by Jeff Schanz
“And the longer she waits, the more impatient I get,” said Mikhail. He took the burning cigar and snuffed it on Viktor’s neck. Viktor flinched and shuddered. His eyelids flickered and closed again. Mikhail smiled and relit the cigar, then touched it to Viktor’s hand. Again Viktor’s semi-conscious state only allowed him a shudder and jerk for a reaction, then his eyelids closed again.
“Shall I continue to do this? Seems a waste of a good cigar.” Mikhail waited, Brandt did and said nothing. “Perhaps I am wrong, and this shriveled old sack of bones isn’t worth anything to anyone.”
He looked at Brandt. Brandt shrugged dismissively. “If you kill him, I can have the island to myself. But – Natalia…” he had to remember not to use his nickname for her. To her, the name had power, and he didn’t want to risk that. “…She’ll probably blame me, and then it’ll be a pain to try to get her in the sack.”
“She’ll be in a coffin and will have little choice. But – I will give her one more chance.”
One of the henchmen gave Mikhail a knife and he moved quicker than Brandt had thought was possible. As if Mikhail had suddenly transported himself into the position, he stood behind Viktor, the knife blade pressing into the old man’s neck.
Mikhail spoke loudly to the air. “Now, Natalia! Or your father loses his head.”
Suddenly there was movement on the balcony.
“No,” said a voice. Lia appeared at the top of the stairs.
She glared down at Mikhail. Her hair was up and she had on one of her Edwardian style dresses. Definitely not the version of her that had been in the barn. Brandt was hoping this was her projection, as he instructed. He had told her to hide somewhere and not tell him where, so Mikhail couldn’t sense it from Brandt’s mind. She would go into her trance, then do her best to project into the house and try to fool Mikhail. Then maybe Mikhail would take her projection with him and she could disappear when it was too late. It would buy them some time, he hoped. She didn’t look at Brandt as she began to glide down the stairs.
“Natalia. A lovely vision, as always,” said Mikhail.
Lia didn’t respond. She moved easily across the floor and came within twenty feet of Mikhail. She was still about ten feet from the nearest gunman.
“If you give me your word that you will harm no one else, I will go with you,” she said.
Mikhail smiled and threw his arms wide. “My dear, would you even believe my word?”
“You were at one time a decent man, Mikhail. If you give me your word, I will trust it.”
Mikhail actually looked a little humbled. His expression softened for a moment. Then the snaky smile returned. “If you come with me willingly, I will harm no one but yourself.”
Lia bristled but kept her composure. Brandt took the moment to lift the pistol out of his waistband and into his lap since everyone was focused on Lia. He covered it with his other hand like he was just resting them both in his lap.
Lia nodded in acquiescence, doing a better acting job than Brandt thought possible.
Mikhail dropped his hand from Viktor’s throat and began to stand up. He looked very satisfied with himself. If he had rubber arms, he would’ve patted himself on the back.
Then he stiffened. His eyes narrowed and he stared hard at Lia. She stared back. Mikhail’s brows pinched as he stepped toward her. She took a step back. He continued to examine her. His eyes suddenly snapped open wide.
“It can’t be,” he said.
Uh oh.
Mikhail’s expression changed as quickly as one of Lia’s moods. He snatched up one of his men’s rifles and pointed it at Lia. She looked around confused and shaken. Mikhail fired three shots. Lia flinched. Nothing happened to her body.
“A projection!? You bitch!” he roared to the air.
Lia took several steps back. She had no idea what to do now. The plan had been uncovered. Brandt still held onto his last ace.
Mikhail began to laugh maniacally. He shouted to his men. “She’s in a trance somewhere nearby. Find her!”
Brandt was about to snap his pistol up and fire, but something unexpected happened first. Viktor stood up and struck Mikhail. It was a roundhouse forearm, almost as fast as if it was Viktor’s projected form. But Viktor’s real body had no claws, talons, or wings. As fast as the blow was, Viktor simply wasn’t a powerful man in his real body. Mikhail easily shook off the blow and only lost his balance for a second. That must’ve been everything Viktor had left. He couldn’t even recover to rear back again for another try.
The next thing happened which such speed that it didn’t immediately register in Brandt’s brain. Mikhail had raised his knife, and without ceremony or final words, he slashed it across Viktor’s neck. The cut was enormous and Viktor’s head lurched forward. His eyes flew open wide. He choked and gasped, which made a wet bubble-popping sound. Fluid poured from his neck as he raised his feeble hands to clutch at it. He fell back into his chair and shook for a moment, then the shaking quieted and he merely began to slump forward.
“Goodbye, Viktor,” said Mikhail.
Lia screamed.
CHAPTER 30
“NOOO!” shrieked Lia, the sound ringing through the house like the horn of a locomotive.
Rage flooded her face. She lunged at Mikhail, but Mikhail was much more experienced and had already guessed her intent. In mid-air, he had transformed into something spiny and fired himself at her like a human-sized cannonball. The two forms smashed through the staircase, sending splinters of wood, and a white cloud of plaster, into the air. Lia struggled to get to her feet in the wreckage. Mikhail instantly stood up, a smear of white dust on his jacket the only visible effect of the carnage.
Brandt was momentarily stunned, watching both the unexpected slashing of Viktor's neck, and the savage battering of Lia, but his brain finally switched into soldier mode. It instantly told him two things: One, there was nothing he could do for Viktor; Two, Lia's projection had stayed solid, despite the attack, which meant Lia still had enough energy to keep the effort going and was still safe wherever she was hidden.
Brandt snapped the pistol into firing stance. The men had been distracted and probably had not considered him an immediate threat since his rifle wasn’t within easy reach. He hit one of the henchmen dead center in the chest. The man toppled back, clueless as to what had just happened. Brandt swung the pistol left and aimed at another henchman. That man had the benefit of watching his comrade get shot, so he was already moving when Brandt fired. But Brandt landed a hit to the man’s shoulder and the guy spun off-balance and fell.
Mikhail glanced distantly toward the melee, probably only interested in finding the real Lia. To the nearest henchman, he said, “You’re with me. Move!” They both ran for the front door.
Brandt turned his gun on the fleeing men, but a round of return fire caused Brandt to duck instead. One of the healthy gunmen was targeting Brandt's head. Brandt dove under the thick mahogany table. Before the assaulting gunman could rearrange his aim to point under the table, Brandt sent a volley of shots at the gunman's knees. The man leaped in the air and crashed hard on the ground. Regardless whether Brandt's shots hit or missed, it would take a moment for the guy to regain balance and aim again. In the meantime, another unmolested gunman was already running around the side of the table to get a better angle to aim. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo about exposed knees. Brandt fired three shots at the guy’s knees. Blood, fabric, and a shard of patella bone went flying, and the guy hit the ground in a heap, clutching his legs. Dumbass.
Brandt was satisfied with his good shooting, but had no time to spare, realizing that the first gunman would have his barrel trained on Brandt at that moment. The guy was already on the ground and would now have an easy shot. Brandt snapped his head around, expecting to be greeted with gunfire. Instead, he saw the feet of the man suddenly disappear upwards. There was a ripping sound, then a heavy thud, and another heavy thud as the man came back into view in two separate pi
eces. Copious amounts of blood pooled on the floor between the two halves of the man.
Viktor? Did the old vampyre have one last projection left in him before he finally left the earthly plane? Brandt took the opportunity to scramble from under the table and duck behind a broad chair in the reading corner of the living room. He poked his head around to see what had just happened. He had expected to see Viktor’s bat-form. Brandt was wrong.
He saw only Lia. She was in a wide stance, white-hot rage on her face, and long claws on her hands. Whoa. She had cut the gunman into two halves the same way Viktor had done and was looking to see who else she could slaughter. The guy who had been hit in the shoulder stood up and pumped a few rounds at her. She had drawn the attention of the other two gunmen as well. Apparently, they hadn’t read up on vampyres, or just forgot that projections are bullet-resistant. Lia charged at one of them, not quite as fast as Mikhail had done, but still blazing fast. The gunman had no chance. He was thrown into the wall, knocking over another man in his path. Lia followed him and made two scissor-like slashes with her clawed hands, and his head fell off his shoulders.
Holy shit! Brandt couldn’t decide if he was more impressed or more proud of her. As Lia was devastating her second victim, Brandt ran over to the guy he had hit in the chest. The elixir stuff was apparently strong enough to heal a chest wound because the guy was trying to get up. Brandt didn't give the guy the chance. He plunged his knife into the thug's eye socket and wrenched the blade around. The man bucked and screamed for only a moment before he went still, with a gargling breath trailing in his throat. Heal that!
The guy with the knee injury tried to stand and figure out who he should point his gun at. Brandt simplified matters for him and shot the guy in the temple. Decision no longer needed, dickhead. Brandt ripped out the knife from one man’s brain and slammed it into the other guy’s brain just for good measure.
If Lia’s a monster, then I sure as hell am.
He caught Lia's eye. She was still in rampage mode, but starting to calm down. She was breathing heavily even though she was a projection. Her dress was torn and her body bloody, which worried him because he thought projections received no damage. Wherever she was, her body must be under severe stress while in her trance. He wondered how long she could keep it up before she lost the ability.
“Brandt!” she called nervously. “They’re looking for my body. If they find me…”
“I know, I know! Hang on, sweetie!”
He snatched up his rifle from the table and charged out the door. He didn’t actually know where Lia’s real body was, and didn’t want to know. If he did, Mikhail might sense it. All he needed to do was chase down the assholes as they were looking, then kill them before they got the chance.
Outside, he saw two black-scarved gunmen running to the center of the island. Those must’ve have been the hidden sentries. They were waving at a helicopter which was descending from the overcast sky. Apparently, they liked their chances better if they got into the air.
“No, you don’t,” said Brandt under his breath. There wasn’t a lot of time to aim, but AK-47’s don’t need exceptional aim on full auto. A spray of bullets was sent at the men, and they flailed and dropped. He knew they probably wouldn’t stay down with their elixir-infused bodies, but it would buy him some time. He spun around looking for Mikhail.
Mikhail and the last henchman were slinking around near the barn. It was a logical first place to look for Lia. Mikhail was trying to keep to the shade, the henchman was out in the light. Brandt sent a burst at them and was rewarded by the henchman clutching his leg and stumbling to the ground. Mikhail, of course, had no such worry, but he looked really pissed off.
So am I.
Mikhail spawned a vicious look that might give Satan pause. In an inhuman voice, he growled, “I will find Natalia when I’m finished with you. I’m going to enjoy ripping your throat out.”
Brandt wasn’t sure what moves he possessed to deflect a vampyre that he assumed had similar powers to Viktor. All he could do was hold his ground and prepare. Show me what you got, Count Chocula.
Long wings suddenly grew from Mikhail’s back. They had sheer skin covering long, spiky bones, with visible veins running in between. From his hands grew sword-like claws that would’ve impressed the superhero Wolverine. His feet transformed into what looked like raven talons. He snapped his hands and wings out to their full width, which was immense, and snarled at Brandt with fatal looking fangs. He resembled a human-headed, fanged Pterodactyl.
Right — so that’s what you got. Brandt wasn't expecting less but was hoping for less. He had nothing that could defeat a projection, like fire, explosives, or radiation. The afternoon sun would help, unless Mikhail was fast, which he would be. If Brandt could get at Mikhail's real body, he could destroy it, which he assumed was probably way out on the yacht. Brandt had some C4 in his bag behind the barn, but he couldn't get to it, and he hadn't had time to set up any of it.
Mikhail flew at Brandt. Brandt had less than a second to enact a plan. Any plan. He had none. As it turned out, he didn’t need one.
Another figure smashed into Mikhail at the speed of sound. Brandt couldn't tell if the cracking thunder was the sound barrier or the sound of two aerial bodies colliding. Mikhail and his attacker crashed into the side of the barn. The other henchman happened to stand up at that moment and was crushed by the two flying missiles. His body was pulverized against the barn wall, becoming a mass of splintered bones, bloody fabric, and pulp.
Mikhail recovered with barely more than a torn suit as the result, then shot away like he was on skies running downhill. He barreled for the incoming helicopter and his last two henchmen.
Brandt was trying to figure out what just happened and couldn’t decide where to point his rifle. Viktor! Viktor stood up from the wreckage, brushed off the henchman’s gore from his own partially torn suit, then spied Brandt. He nodded for the briefest of moments before taking off in the direction of the helicopter.
Lia’s projection came running from the house. “Brandt!” she called.
Before the sun could affect her, she joined him in the shaded area and they embraced for a moment. She felt unnaturally soft and looked luminous, resembling a hologram. She must be losing focus or energy. They had no time for reunions.
“Your father!” he shouted, pointing at the helicopter.
Lia gasped. Her mouth fell open and her hands flew to her lips.
Brandt knew Viktor would use every ounce of life he had left to punish the men who sought to kill his daughter, but he may not have much time left to do it. How long could his dying essence hold out?
Brandt knelt down and carefully took aim. Not quite a sniper, he was a pretty fair shot, usually one of the top men at the distance range. This time all he really needed to do was damage some machinery. Aiming at the helicopter rotor, he breathed in, then out, and held it. He fired. Full auto was bound to hit something critical, and his guess was right. The helicopter shuddered and the rotor started wobbling. Smoke came from the roof.
“Yes!” he shouted.
The chopper lurched, burying one of its skids in the ground, rotating out of control, as the henchmen desperately tried to jump out of the way. Mikhail slid to a stop, avoiding the chopper blades. He only had a moment to remember that Viktor was right behind him, and that moment passed by too quickly. Viktor slammed into Mikhail for the second time, crushing the side of the helicopter with their combined impact, tipping the craft over. The pilot tried to leap clear, but was immediately struck by the twisted, whipping blades, and was shredded as if he had been in a blender.
Mikhail was slower to get to his feet this time. Viktor recovered quickly and picked up one of the scrambling henchmen. He held the man by his feet and flung the screaming man into the still rotating blades. Like the pilot, the man was dissected into tiny pieces, showering the ground with blood. The third man had made it ten yards before he ran into Lia. She reached back with all he
r remaining projection power and gave him a punch that went through the man’s body entirely. Her clawed hand protruded from the man’s back gripping his spine in her fist as she lifted him up. She then flung the limp man aside.
Brandt came up behind her and leveled his rifle barrel at the man's head. He fired point-blank into the man's brainpan and turned it into reddish mush.
“Had to be sure,” said Brandt.
Lia stood, her chest heaving, her eyes flooded with tears. “Papa!”
Viktor glanced only momentarily in her direction, wanting to stay focused on Mikhail. Mikhail stood up, still unbroken, but looking at least a little woozy. Apparently, even projections can get the metaphorical wind knocked out of them.
The afternoon sun glowing through a hazy sky, even at less than full power, was still deadly to vampyres. Mikhail's skin was now burning in the sun, as was Viktor's. Lia recognized her own jeopardy and brought her hands to her head. Mikhail looked between the two vampyre projections and the sun, ultimately deciding to retreat. He grinned mirthlessly, then suddenly lifted into the air and sped toward the ocean as fast as a jet fighter. It was only then that Brandt noticed the yacht parked about a mile offshore.
“Son of a bitch,” said Brandt.
Mikhail beat the air with his huge wings, grey smoke swirling off the edges as his flying form receded into the distance.
Brandt yanked off his shirt and flung it over Lia’s head. He pushed her to the ground and stood over her, his back to the sun. She didn’t even notice what he was doing. Her attention was locked on her father.
Viktor made no motion to find cover as his face burned. Smoke roiled around him as he smiled at Lia.
“Papa!” she cried. “You have to get back in the house! Hurry!”
He shook his head. “No, my svet.”
“You will die!”
His smile widened. It was the warmest smile Brandt had ever seen from Viktor. This wasn’t the same strong, proud, intimidating man who had slaughtered men and hosted Russian royalty. Here was simply a dying father getting one last look at his daughter.
