100 Miles and Vampin'

by C. T. Phipps

  “You should help this man first,” Sam said, her hand on the wounded man on the ground’s neck. He wasn’t bleeding out, but that was half because he didn’t much blood left. “I’ve helped him, so he’ll survive, but he’s still very weak. You’ve drained him nearly to death.”

  “If he died, I would have made him a vampire,” Jackson said, showing none of the respect to her he’d shown me. “Tony is useful but he’s ambitious and too eager to please. I can sense when one of my boys is into it or not. It’d be nice to have complete control over his thoughts as a proper creator should.”

  “Yeah, you’re just a wonderful creator,” David said, growling. “So when did you decide it was okay to be with guys rather than just beat them up or kill them?”

  Jackson shrugged, clearly not recognizing David. “Blood is blood, man. Once you taste it, you don’t care where it comes from as long as its human and fresh.”

  I frowned and shook my head. “Vampires aren’t allowed to create in New Detroit without the permission of the Voivode or City Council. Have you been making vampires in spite of the law?”

  It was ridiculous bringing up that sort of charge now, especially when I was about to nail him for the much more severe one of killing another vampire, but every little bit helped. Also, I wanted to know if there were any other vampires of his lineage hanging around. People who might object to my carting off their boss and weren’t well-disposed to me.

  Jackson summoned enough willpower to flare his nostrils. “Man, fuck the City Council and fuck the Council of Ancients too. Vampires shouldn’t be worrying about ways to keep our numbers down, we should be figuring out ways to expand. The populous envies us every bit as much as they fear us. We should make everyone and their mother who wants to be a vampire and then march on Washington to tear those fucking vampire-hating bigots a new one.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Then who would we eat, jackass?”

  “Whoever we wanted.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Humans have nukes, Jackson. We can’t turn the army into a bunch of Bloodslaves.”

  “Maybe you can’t, bellidix, but I can. My music reaches out to the masses. I am the messiah of the ninety-nine-percent, and everyone listens to my boys and girls. I am turning a new generation of vampire-hating white, brown, and in-between kids into people who want to be us.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, unsure if Jackson was crazy or just stupid. “Is that why you were with Rebecca Plum?”

  Jackson looked like he was going to tear my throat apart, but his hypnosis prevented him from doing so. Instead, he walked over to his glass desk and smashed his fist through it. He then threw his chair over my head, and it smashed against the glass door behind me. That caused a couple of his guards to rush in, but he just growled at them, sending them scurrying away.

  “Fuck that bitch!” Jackson snapped. “Fuck her and her damned books too.”

  “Money clearly hasn’t changed Carl’s vocabulary,” David said.

  “Man, you clearly didn’t spend long enough in the neighborhood,” I said, shaking my head. “Jackson used to use fuck in dozens of fascinating and unique ways. Quentin Tarantino had nothing on him. He’s positively restrained now.”

  “I take it your relationship didn’t end well?” Sam said, still healing Tyrone with white magic.

  Jackson brushed off bits and pieces of glass from his sleeve. “Fuck no, it didn’t end well. I’m okay with going after the shapely house-wife type. I fucked more mothers than I ever did my classmates. However, the bitch said she’d make me a vampire superstar. That she’d turn my story into a legend.”

  I tried not to laugh, remembering the offer she’d made me. “It was a line she was feeding you? You didn’t get your big star-making role?”

  This was classic.

  “Fuck yes it was a line she was feeding me. Worse, I am in the books! There’s a Karl Paxton who shows up in one of the books and is getting his own spin-off series. Grew up in Detroit, became a banger, and went on to become a rich rapper.”

  “Sounds like you got your money’s worth,” I said, realizing Rebecca had been hitting on me the entire time.

  “Dude was white!” Jackson snapped. “Plum wanted to make me Vanilla Ice.”

  Okay, that was funny. No, wait, it was hilarious. I stifled my laughter. “Okay, well, take care of your friend on the couch and go get Enil. I’ll explain more when you get back.”

  I wasn’t afraid of him running. If he wanted to take us out, then he’d just summon his security and things would get nasty. He wouldn’t pretend to have been mind-fucked and unable to do anything about me. Vampires gave lip service to the law and, like it or not, I represented the law in New Detroit.

  “Why are you asking me about Plum anyway? Isn’t she hanging around with her new Texas friends?”

  “Plum came to visit yesterday,” I said, deciding it was best for him to know. Maybe he knew that Ancients might have a grudge against her. There were only a few Ancients in New Detroit, and most of them were friends of Enil. “She’s dead.”

  Jackson seemed to register he was a suspect. “I didn’t do it.”

  “I know you didn’t,” I said, not at all happy to be reassuring him. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re going to pin this on me, aren’t you?” Jackson snapped.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Jackson’s smile became pained. “Super.”

  Sam looked at me, holding the hand of Tony on the ground. “Peter, please.”

  “Heal him,” I said, looking right into Jackson’s eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “You did it to him.”

  “Obey,” I commanded.

  “Fu…yes,” Jackson said. The mob boss went over to Tony and slid open his wrist to let a dribble of molasses-like blood flow from his vein down the thug’s throat. Vampire blood had healing properties, but it was also addictive like crack, heroin, and your first love all in one. Sympathetic masters suppressed those qualities like Thoth did to me during my time as a Bloodsworn, but I sincerely doubted Jackson bothered with it. What, me, prejudiced? No!

  Tony drank from the wrist until he looked less like death warmed over and more like a guy who could serve as serious muscle even in a place full of mercenaries. Jackson licked the wound on his wrist closed before sending Tony away.

  “I appreciate that,” Jackson said, speaking to me. “Listen, I know we’ve had our differences but maybe we should—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “Go get Enil.”

  Jackson wasn’t used to being dismissed, and his anger looked like it was ready to fight against Enil’s control. Unfortunately, for Jackson, it didn’t last long, and he lowered his head submissively. Jackson walked past me, banging into my shoulder and out the door.

  “Any chance that was all an act?” Sam asked.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Jackson might lull me into a false sense of security before attacking me, but he wouldn’t compromise his pride that much. There will be no Red Wedding stuff here.”

  “That’s a relief,” Sam said. “Not that this is a wedding, we’re invited guests, or it’s Westeros.”

  I looked up at the platinum records on the walls. “This is exactly the life my brother wanted.”

  “Damien wanted to be a vampire gangster rapper and criminal mastermind?” David asked, looking uncomfortable with his surroundings. He’d known Damien too but hadn’t been around him when his life had turned to shit thanks to drugs, guns, and what our grandmother would have called “bad influences.”

  “Yeah,” I said, admitting to myself this was exactly where my brother would have been if he’d lived. “Damien was basically Jackson-lite toward the end. He would have done anything to have the fine cars, the gold, and the paper. I didn’t exactly stop to ask around, but word was he was already talking about what it would be like in the Knives when he was in charge rather than Jackson.”

  That particular revelation had come out years after I’d shot up Jackson’s place a
nd he’d gone from being a minor crime lord in the city to a world-famous rap producer. Despite this, I occasionally thought Jackson was jealous of me, perhaps because my creator gave a shit about me while his was just using him to get rebellious teenagers to download songs at $2.99 a pop.

  For all of Jackson’s talk about being the messiah of the 99%, the records on the wall were for a bunch of songs that stood for no one and were about nothing. They were nothing but glam rap rip-offs of better stars. Jackson was the king of vampire music, all produced, packaged, and sold by the corporate machine. He was the perfect example of a vampire sell-out. Damien, when he’d rhymed, had real power to his voice and spirit.

  Or maybe I just wanted to remember him better than he was.

  “So it was self-defense?” David said, pointing out something I didn’t really want to dwell on.

  “Doesn’t matter if it was self-defense, by a very loose definition, or not. Damien was my brother.”

  They, thankfully, didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t a good guy or a bad guy on the streets of Old Detroit, and it was one of the reasons I was glad it was getting demolished block by block. At least in New Detroit, you knew who the bad guys were. They were people like me, guys with fangs; the good guys were those who opposed us.

  Simple, eh?

  I was about to comment further when I saw a little snow-white fox dash through the glass door’s shattered remains. I blinked as the fox transformed into Yukie, and I found myself face-to-face with the woman I thought had been killed by the Ancient she was chasing.

  “Well, this is awkward,” I said, looking at her.

  “You!” Sam said. “You have made a really big pile of shit for us.”

  “Cool, a werefox!” David said, completing the trio of our reactions.

  Yukie looked at me, and I tried to see some of Thoth inside her. I couldn’t see it in her features but caught a glimpse of my creator in the intensity of her gaze. It was gone in a second, though, and I was left with the partial-demon quarter-vampire shapechanger. Which, really, was way, way too many weird things for one single supernatural.

  No matter how hot.

  Yukie stared at me. “Mister Stone, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Please, call me Peter,” I said, uncomfortable at her presence. “Listen, we need to talk about what you saw.”

  Against my better instincts, I actually wanted to find out who was guilty of this crime even if I thought they deserved a fucking medal for killing Rebecca Plum. I just hoped it was, A:] Someone we could actually arrest and B:] For a reason other than she was a psychopathic killer.

  Yukie ruined both theories. “I traced the Ancient who killed Rebecca Plum there. He is Enil the Second Eldest. We need to get out of here before he kills you all.”

  Okay, now Lucy was kicking me in the nuts after stealing the football.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dammit.

  When it rains, it pours, except in this case it was pouring acid. Enil was a wrecking ball compared to your average vampire’s baseball. He was also someone I kinda-sorta considered to be a friend. If Enil had killed Rebecca Plum, then there was no chance of bringing him in.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, certain the answer wouldn’t change.

  “I’m really-really sure,” Yukie said.

  “Hello, you must be Yukie,” Sam said, cheerfully offering her hand. “I’m Samvrutha Mitra, here representing the voivode’s consort and chancellor.”

  Yukie shook it, looking confused. “Uh, nice to meet you, Sam.”

  “Right,” David said, getting up. “So, it is now time to exit stage left.”

  “A most wise-sounding idea,” Sam said. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything that could slow Enil down, like, say a tactical nuclear warhead.”

  “Would that work?” David asked. “Only Old Ones can kill Old Ones, but a nuke is still a nuke.”

  “You know, I don’t know,” Sam said, frowning. “I suppose being science rather than magic, it would really, really hurt but he’d eventually regenerate after a few centuries from ashes. Technically, while less dramatic, cremating the body would be equally effective. He’d probably be hopelessly insane after that, though.”

  “Actually, I think he’s immune to fire,” David said, making this conversation even more disturbing. “I once saw him douse himself in gasoline before lighting up and dancing to show off his powers.”

  I took Sam by the arm and started directing her to the door to get us out of here. “Let’s save the fascinating ‘Can Captain America beat Dracula?’ talk for later, okay? We need to get our only witness out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Yukie said, causing me to stop in mid-step.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Run that by me in Detroitese, lady? Because it sounded like English but clearly not a dialect I’m familiar with.”

  Yukie kept her voice low and even. “I failed to protect Rebecca Plum, and I’m honor-bound to avenge her.”

  I stared at her. “Honor-bound? Are you fucking serious?”

  “It’s not a concept I expect you to understand,” Yukie said, frowning.

  “Because I’m American, black, or because the samurai were so fucking bad at the honor thing the Japanese people rose up en masse to kill them because they were bleeding the country dry?” I said, staring at her.

  “Technically, they didn’t so much kill them all as install the Emperor as an absolute ruler, but I know you know this,” David corrected. “History Channel for life. Mind you, they show nothing but Vikings, aliens, and vampire reality television nowadays.”

  I glared at David.

  Yukie shook her head. “It’s not that, Peter. Honestly, everything my research about Detroit’s vampires suggests you’re a better person than any bellidix has any right to be. I also know you as a patriotic soldier who defended his squadron in the face of immense odds. You made numerous tough decisions in Iraq.”

  I stared at her. “You’ve been researching me?”

  “I would be a crap bodyguard if I didn’t,” Yukie said. “Believe me, I think you would have put up an immense fight against Enil if I hadn’t uh, distracted you.”

  “You’d be wrong there,” I corrected. “There’s also a lot you don’t know about my Iraq service. Not a lot anyone knows.”

  The Iraq War had been a disaster for the United States and not just because of mismanagement from on-high, but also because of supernatural intervention. While the Reveal had been when humanity had officially learned of the existence of ghosts, ghouls, shapechangers, and worse—a huge number of American troops had learned about the existence of the supernatural while fighting Saddam.

  Saddam, like Adolf before him, hadn’t been shy about deploying magical forces. In a way, it was a good thing the vampires had revealed themselves because otherwise I, and everyone else who had lost a buddy to the undead, would have been ready to break out the torches and pitchforks.

  Only replace them with RPGs and tanks.

  “You can’t win against Enil,” Sam said, sitting down on the couch. “Any attack against an Ancient would be a futile gesture. Even if by some miracle you did him harm, killing him would only cause massive reverberations throughout the supernatural world’s power structure. Many innocent vampires—”

  “Which exist, honest,” David felt the need to clarify. “The really young ones mostly.”

  “Thanks, David,” I said, rolling my eyes.’

  “—would die,” Sam said. “What we need is a diplomatic solution, and your testimony is our best option for that. Also, honor-wise, Rebecca Plum committed many grievous offenses against the natural order. Enil’s murder of her was most likely motivated by a desire to do justice. You can fulfill the spirit of your vow by bringing evidence against him while not throwing your life away.”

  I blinked, looking at Sam. She was really good at this. “You’ve got some mad negotiating skills, girl.”

  “I had to win out over twenty other female meteorologists to be the weather girl,
” Sam said. “Not that my legs hurt.”

  Yukie paused, clearly looking troubled. “It’s not just an issue of fulfilling a promise, though that’s certainly involved. My teenage years were spent among mobsters, and I have no illusions about being one of the good guys. However, if I’m ever going to find the demon who killed my mother, I have to prove I’m willing to honor my contracts. I’ve only found as many leads as I have because of my willingness to abide by their letter, no matter the terms. That’s the honor I’m speaking of, not the honor of the samurai who were a bunch of classist assholes if you want my opinion on them.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But maybe when you’re a katana-wielding fox girl, you should specify you mean professionalism. Cuts down on the confusion.”

  Yukie glared.

  “This is all some crazy vengeance quest?” David asked, sitting down beside Sam on the couch.

  Yukie nodded. “There’s an old Chinese saying that when you seek vengeance, you should dig two graves.”

  “I saw For Your Eyes Only,” David said. “Best of the Roger Moore movies.”

  Yukie shook her head. “Most people assume that means you shouldn’t seek vengeance because it will get you killed. For me, it means that you should be prepared to sacrifice yourself in order to get their retribution. I will sacrifice anything and anyone to destroy Magog.”

  “Magog?” David asked.

  “Big bad demon,” Sam explained. “He’s listed in the Lesser Keys of Solomon. Notably, he’s usually paired with an even bigger demon named Gog. They’re considered patrons of England, which is something that’s only surprising to people who weren’t colonized by them.”