by M. D. Massey
I glanced over to check on Bobby, who was already violently engaged with Hate, and they looked like two cats fighting inside a burlap sack. Hate was almost as fast as Bobby and had a good hundred pounds on him. But Bobby moved like a greased weasel; every time Hate would swipe at him or try to snap those great jaws around an arm or leg, Bobby would slip just outside and swipe him or nip him. Never great big bites or deep cuts, but still attacks that were just enough to hurt.
I had no time to watch the show. Van/Fenrir had finished transforming and came straight at me—and man, could he move. I dove out of the way as he closed the forty-foot gap between us in seconds, and rolled up firing the .45’s at him and backpedaling, jumping out of the way again over an old work truck’s hood to avoid his rush. He collided with the truck and it shook with the impact, then he turned and coiled himself up for another leap at me just as I emptied my last rounds into his side and haunches. One bullet must’ve hit something important, because he stumbled a bit as he turned. But I had no time to reload, and I doubted I’d get the katana out before he could pounce over the truck and snap those massive jaws around me.
Thankfully, Colin chose that moment to charge in and distract him, swinging that hand-and-a-half sword of his, shouting “MacCumhaill, MacCumhaill, MacCumhaill!” and attracting the wolf’s attention with his attack. That gave me time to draw my blade and leap over the truck into the fray, coming at him from the other side and landing several cuts on Van’s flank in the process.
Van had twisted around and snagged Colin around the torso, snapping his head quickly and tossing the kid twenty feet through the air. I thought for sure he’d be dead on impact, but he rolled as he hit and sprang lightly to his feet, still hanging onto that great sword of his. Before suffering the same fate, I took a step back to give the wolf some space. I wasn’t a coward; I just wasn’t a fool, either. I looked around to see what had happened to the rabbi and Josef and saw the little man on the roof of a nearby building, making those strange signs with his hands and muttering in Yiddish, or Hebrew, or something. The old man paused and gestured for us to bring the wolf closer to his position. His golem was nowhere in sight.
Deciding that I’d have time to ask questions later, I rushed at Van, swinging at his face and then angling off to attack his flank. Colin followed my lead, and soon we had him backing up toward the rooftop where the rabbi was safely ensconced. We only seemed to be doing superficial damage, but at least we were moving him back.
Suddenly we heard the rabbi yell. “Move, you fools!” We dove left and right to make room for whatever surprise Rabbi Manny had in store. And a good thing, too; at that moment, Josef appeared right behind the wolf, smashing a glass receptacle squarely on Van’s back. The bottle shattered, splashing a clear liquid over Van’s fur and soaking him to the skin. Then the rabbi tossed something from his hands, a bright blue spark that caused the wolf to burst into flames. Josef backed away from the fire calmly, nonplussed about the flames that danced up and down his arm, and looked on as the wolf became engulfed in fire.
Vanagandr, it seemed, was not immune to fire as the golem was. He roared in pain and fury, turning about and trying to snap at the flames that had spread all over his neck and back. The rabbi’s voice called out to us from the roof. “Now, attack while he is still burning! He cannot heal from both fire and steel at once!”
Taking the little man’s advice, I ran forward and struck at Van’s right forepaw, biting deeply into fur and flesh. Colin moved around the creature’s backside and repeatedly stabbed at his haunches. We both continued to attack as the flames burned out, and Van stumbled off in retreat as we followed him, cutting and hacking with fierce, rapid blows in pursuit.
Without warning, Van rallied and kicked out with one rear leg at Colin, tossing him against a truck and stunning him; how badly, I couldn’t tell. As Colin sagged against the truck, Van turned to lunge at him and finish him off. Sensing an opening and knowing that any hesitation would mean the end of Colin, I dove forward and drove my sword through Van’s neck, in under one side of his jaw and out his shoulder on the opposite side.
As the sword pierced his neck, Van/Fenrir staggered and then arched his back and coughed, like a dog with a bone stuck in its throat that it can’t dislodge. He stumbled and fell, and I, still hanging onto the sword for dear life, got dragged with him. As I fell on him, Van turned his head and snapped at me, catching my shoulder and piercing it with two of those mighty, dagger-like fangs. I screamed with pain and wrenched the sword back and forth with my good arm while he crunched down on my shoulder blade.
No matter how each of us fought, both with flagging strength, neither one of us would let go.
Bobby appeared then, his face bloodied and horribly maimed, one side mangled and his jaw hanging at an odd angle. He landed on Van’s head and drove both of his great clawed hands into an eye socket on either side of the wolf’s skull, savaging each eye murderously. Van released me immediately, howling in agony and tossing me off to the side.
Once I was released, Bobby jumped off Van’s back and landed, wobbly but still functional, a few paces away. Now blinded and skewered by my blade, Van dragged himself forward, still howling his fury—first five feet, then ten—then he fell to his side, panting, and began changing back into his human form. I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled after him.
Despite his injuries, Van pulled himself forward a few more feet to sit against a car. His eyes were a wreck, but he still turned his head toward me as he spoke. “Tell me, Sullivan: do you really think it’s my destiny to be slain by a bard, a washed up rabbi, an orphan, and you, a broken shell of a man?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a good bar joke in there, but you’re missing a punchline. Please, continue.”
"Yes, joke if you like, but for centuries I’ve walked this earth, and no man has bested me. You think I cannot heal these wounds?” He pulled my sword from his neck and tossed it to the side, and I noticed that indeed, the burn marks and slashes on his body were healing rapidly as he continued. “I am the monster of the River Van! I am Fenrir! I have defeated gods! I am eternal! I—”
Figuring I’d better end it before he fully recovered, I snatched my sword from the ground. Stepping forward, I separated his head from his shoulders with a quick flash of Japanese folded steel.
“You’re dead meat, that’s what you are.” I watched as his head rolled away to rest at the base of a fire hydrant. It was a fitting resting place for it.
As I searched around for Sam, Colin staggered up to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder and pointing off to the side. The old man had landed in some shrubs, his arms and legs twisted and his breathing shallow. I ran over and gently pulled him from the bushes, laying him down and checking him over. He was conscious but struggling to breathe, and my once-over revealed massive trauma to his torso. It might have happened when Hate tossed him, but chances were good that the wolf beat him bloody before we even showed up.
I tried to make him comfortable and held his hand. The rabbi came over and gave him a few drops of some liquid under his tongue, saying it would ease the pain. Sam looked up at me and blinked, and I thought I saw some recognition in those eyes. He was trying to speak, so I leaned in to hear what he had to say.
“Too… strong. Couldn’t fight them. Sorry… Scratch.”
I squeezed his hand lightly and shook my head. “It’s okay, Sam. You did more than any person should ever be expected to. Gabby will be fine. The wolves are dead, and we’re about to end that vamp’s miserable existence.”
He started coughing and wheezing and got all worked up. “Not… the wolves… dangerous. Vampire… is real… danger. Careful…” Then he stopped breathing, and his eyes went dull.
I sat there for a moment holding his hand, and finally attempted to close his eyelids, but they wouldn’t cooperate. I covered his face instead with my shemagh to give him some dignity. I stood up and wiped my eyes, taking a moment to collect myself. Sam was one of the few friends I’d had, and
I had damned few of those. Seeing him go like this wasn’t easy.
I said the Lord’s Prayer over Sam’s body, ending it with something to the effect of “commit this soul to your place of final rest,” or some such. It was the best I could do at the moment; I’d give him a proper burial once we’d finished our business with Piotr.
Colin stood there silently for a few moments after I finished, then he spoke up. “You alright?”
“Nope. But there’ll be time to mourn later. Now, we finish taking revenge.”
35
TROY
After I’d taken care of Sam, I looked around to see how the rest of the crew fared. Bobby was sitting on the hood of a car not far away, getting patched up by the rabbi. He looked like a mess. The kid would recover, but he still needed to be put back together to heal properly. A further search turned up Hate’s body several feet beyond, a nearly unrecognizable, bloody lump of flesh and bone. Josef stood statue-still on the other side of the parking lot, facing outward while standing watch.
The rabbi must have sensed how impotent I felt, despite our victory, and glanced at me momentarily over his bifocals as he sewed Bobby’s face back together. “You acquitted yourselves well. I am sorry about your friend, but he was already dying by the time we arrived.”
I just shook my head and decided to let it drop. “Bobby, how are you feeling?”
“Right as rain.” Only his words came out like, “wight ath wane.” His jaw was seriously screwed up. I looked at the rabbi. “Think you can fix that?”
“His jaw? Needs to be reset. It is dislocated, and I am not going near a werewolf’s mouth when he is in pain. You must do it.”
“Alright, alright.” I had Bobby sit facing me. “This is going to hurt, kid. So whatever you do, don’t bite down.” I stuck my thumbs inside his mouth, placing them on his back lower molars, and pressed down while pulling up on his chin until his jaw produced an audible “pop.” The kid pulled away and moved his jaw around.
“Mush beh er,” he exclaimed.
The rabbi looked at him and nodded his approval, then he looked at me and scowled. “Bah! You are worse off than he is! Sit down, sit down, before you pass out.”
I waved him off. “Leave me alone, I feel fine.”
“You only feel fine because you are high as a kite on that elixir I gave you. When it wears off, you will know it.”
“Well, I feel fine now.”
Bobby gave me the thumbs up. “Ane guh ty to beed.”
Colin looked at him with an eyebrow cocked. “Huh?”
“I think he’s saying, ‘Ain’t got time to bleed.’ You know, Jesse Ventura from Predator?”
Colin made a sour face. “Ah, Jesse the Body Ventura. He was much cooler before he got into politics.”
I smirked. “Isn’t everyone?”
He cocked his head. “Mmm, except Reagan. His cool factor went up a few notches after he became president. Bedtime For Bonzo pretty much killed any swagger he might’ve had before then.”
I tilted my head in acquiescence to his point, and waved the rabbi over. “Alright, patch me up. Last thing I need is to fall over while I’m kicking this vamp’s ass.” I sat on the ground, and the rabbi knelt as he proceeded to bandage my shoulder and various other minor cuts and scrapes. There was some sewing involved, but he was quick and efficient, and I was too busy reloading my Glocks and spare mags and worrying about Kara and Gabby to pay attention to what he did.
While the rabbi wrapped things up, he spoke quietly to me as he tied off a bandage. “Are you sure you do not want to wait for morning to chase this vampire down? He will be weaker then, and we may be able to catch him unaware.”
I shook my head. “No. No way. For one, if they have the uranium that the wolves were searching for, then waiting might be a mistake. Second, since the wolves took everyone, I’ve been trying to get Kara back and I’ve been delayed every step of the way. There’s nothing and no one that’s going to keep me from her right now. And third, he has Gabby.” I clapped him on the shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Rabbi, there’s no way in hell I’ll leave that kid alone with that monster one second longer than I have to.”
He sighed as he packed up his medical supplies. “It is hard to lose people you care for, and I have lost many over the years.” He patted my leg in a very grandfatherly manner before he stood up. “This work is unforgiving in that way. Pray that you do not live a life as long as I.”
I pushed myself off the ground with a groan. “I have a feeling that won’t be an issue—not the way I’m going. But if I had my way right now, I’d retire somewhere quiet with no deaders around, and raise a nice little family with Kara.”
He smiled a sad little smile at me. “I suppose there is always hope.”
“I suppose there is at that. Now, let’s go see about killing a vamp.”
I looked over at the old man as we gathered up our gear and prepped for the final showdown with Piotr. “What’s the deal with all the blades? I saw you messing with them earlier, but you never used them during the fight with the wolves.”
He patted his bandolier and touched his nose with one short, gnarled finger. “These are for the vampire. I coated them with a poison that will hopefully slow him down.” He pulled a long, slender silver knife from a sheath and handed it to me, handle first. “Here. If you get close enough, stab him with this. Otherwise, you likely will not survive your encounter with him.”
I took the knife and shoved it in my belt at the small of my back. I figured that it might come in handy, although I was growing awfully fond of the katana for this sort of work. Kind of hard for a vamp or a ’thrope to fight back when they’re missing limbs. As I tucked the knife away, I double-checked my gear and took out a grenade that I’d saved just for this occasion. If I had to, I’d pull the pin and hang onto that son of a bitch, and take him out with me. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but these people deserved a chance to find freedom and safety at the Facility, and I knew that the Doc could give it to them.
I strapped the grenade to my vest and took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s do this.”
It was a short walk to the building that Joe and Sam had pointed out as the place that housed the reactor. The building itself was nondescript, and it looked like it could have been any building on any college campus anywhere. There was a sign that said “Nuclear Engineering Lab, PRC 159” in white letters on blue attached to the brick next to the front door. There was also a nuclear radiation warning sign below the placard, again faded by many long years in the hot Texas sun.
We listened to the sounds around us, trying to determine if there was a trap of some sort waiting for us on the other side of those doors. But we heard nothing but cicadas and the lonesome call of a nightjar from off in the distance. I tried the door to find it unlocked and pulled it open slowly, searching for traps and tripwires. There was nothing to fear; apparently, the front door had been left open for us and we were invited guests for the evening’s festivities.
The rabbi grabbed my arm and stopped me before we entered. “Do not be alarmed if Josef disappears before we confront the vampire. He will be around, yet unseen. But I will stand with you this night, to give you what small assistance as I am able.”
I nodded once to him, and moved on into the building. The place was lit with the occasional fluorescent bulb, but they’d been long neglected, and most flickered and gave off little if any reliable light. We didn’t need it, at least not Bobby and I, but it still managed to add a definite sense of creepiness to the place. Besides the ballasts humming in the light fixtures, there were no other sounds.
We proceeded down the hall and followed the signs that pointed us to the nuclear engineering lab and reactor. The building itself wasn’t particularly large, and we reached the entrance to the lab in little time and with no surprises. Nothing and no one was waiting to prevent us from making it to our destination; apparently, if the wolves didn’t stop us, either Piotr had nothing else to throw at us, or he just did
n’t care. Either way, it spoke to his confidence in his abilities, or his lack of confidence in our own.
As we approached the door, I motioned them back against the cinder block wall and snuck up to the door to take a peek inside. There was a faint blue glow pulsating from a wall of glass on the far side of the room. Against those windows sat a row of ancient-looking computer cabinets like one might expect to see in an old sci-fi film from the fifties, as well as several modern computers and a line of monitors mounted to the ceiling. Kara was seated at one of the computer stations, her back half-turned to me with her face obscured. I’d nevertheless recognize that red hair and silhouette anywhere. She wore a white lab coat, and of all things, a pencil skirt and heels.
My heart raced at the sight of her.
Gabby was duct-taped to a chair just a few feet away, her mouth taped shut while her eyes bore holes in the figure standing next to Kara. It could only have been Piotr, and none other. He cut a startling figure, I’d give him that. Six-one, or maybe a little taller. A dark, full head of hair, of the kind that movie stars once spent a lot of money maintaining and replacing. Slim hips, broad shoulders. Expensive black slacks, Italian shoes, and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and most certainly Brooks Brothers, if I had to take a guess. He was half turned toward Kara, posing with one hand stroking his chin, the other arm draped across his chest to give him someplace to prop his elbow. He said something to her, but I couldn’t make it out. Whatever he said, Kara started typing commands into the computer in response, and the glow behind the glass grew a little brighter.
I leaned back from the window and whispered to Colin, Bobby, and the rabbi, filling them in on the situation.
Bobby looked at me seriously, his brow furrowing. “How do you want to play this, boss?”
I turned to look at Rabbi Manny, who shrugged. “He is waiting for us, and unconcerned, which means he is well-fed and dangerous. I do not recommend giving him a chance to fight back.”
