The Tome of Bill Series: Books 5-8 (Goddamned Freaky Monsters, Half A Prayer, The Wicked Dead, The Last Coven)

by Rick Gualtieri

  “How so?”

  “Duh. I gain the power of whatever vamp I happen to use as a sippy cup.”

  “Gain being the operational word there. I suspected it first way back when you took on Jeff. You managed to overpower him.”

  “He was bleeding pretty badly at the time.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You were slightly stronger. You’ve even said it yourself in the past: you add their powers to yours. It gives you an edge, even if just a tiny one.”

  “So you were thinking...”

  “Exactly. You’ve just never tried it before with multiple vampires.”

  “I’m usually lucky if I can get the bite on one.”

  “That’s the point. Up until now, you’ve mostly used it as a defensive power.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. I thought back to Sheila’s boyfriend. What I did to him would probably be considered pretty damn offensive.

  “But now,” she continued, “with us in need of some brute force with nary an ancient vamp in sight, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to run an experiment. If you only got the strength from one of them or if maybe their blood canceled each other out...” She trailed off, then snapped her fingers. “But what you did back there says otherwise. I’m not ashamed to admit you took me out way too easily - even with all the training I’ve been putting your ass through. It worked. You currently have the power of five other vamps coursing through you. On their own, they’re pretty pathetic...no real threat. Together, though, well, I’d say you probably have the power to take on a vampire twice my age.”

  I considered this, and it actually made sense. “So what you’re telling me is that by drinking the blood of multiple vamps, basically they combine to form Voltron inside of me?”

  “No, I’m really not saying that at all.”

  “Same general concept, though.” Goddamn, why hadn’t I thought to try that before? Well, the answer was pretty obvious - the lack of willing donors. As Sally had said, I’d used it more as a defensive weapon than anything. Back when I’d ruled over Village Coven, I’d never thought of asking the various assembled vamps to line up and let me bite them all in succession. Even if I had, chances were most of them would have told me to go take a flying fuck off the Statue of Liberty. “I get what you’re saying, but I’d never really considered it. I mean, I’ve usually been happy just to be strong enough to beat off any bad guys who were kicking my ass.”

  She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Beat off?”

  “Poor choice of words.”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  “Bite me,” I said, but with no real rancor. I was too busy considering the possibilities. Past a certain point, my body normally couldn’t handle the power and it could trigger my change into Dr. Death. The thing was, he currently wasn’t an issue. In theory, with the right slushie made from the blood of potent donors, there wasn’t any limit to what I could do.

  Sally stood up and placed some weight on her leg, grimacing. It obviously wasn’t fully healed yet, but it was good enough to support her weight. She hobbled over. Almost as if reading my mind, she said, “It does open the door to possibilities, doesn’t it?”

  To my surprise, I found myself grinning at the prospect. “And then some.”

  Going Down

  Despite my earlier optimism, I realized Sally’s plan had some potential snags. For starters, the blood may have had a cumulative effect on my powers, but as it turned out, it didn’t do anything to extend the duration the boost offered. My body still seemed to metabolize it at the same rate. Thus, while it would be good for a fight or a quick escape, it still wasn’t ideal for a prolonged operation. I could get the benefit from a small sip, but there was still only a finite amount I could carry with me on a journey that would last God knew how long.

  There was also the fact that Pandora Coven was a relatively young group these days. I’d picked up hints from Sally that the previous master had a few centuries under her belt, but she was no longer amongst the present and accounted for. Sally was now the oldest vamp in the building. Steve and a few others had a couple of decades on their side as well, but there were none that could be considered even remotely ancient among our number.

  In short, this was far from being a done deal. Even so, I could have kissed Sally for giving us as much hope as she had. A snowball’s chance in Hell was better than none and, hey, we were in Vegas after all. Playing the odds was practically an unwritten law here.

  Once our plan of action was confirmed, Sally and Steve set to work prepping things with brutal efficiency. Sally ordered mandatory blood donation from any vampires over two years in age, herself included. I was taken aback by the amount she drained from each not-so-warm body. Needless to say, if any sane blood drive had tried to do the same, they’d have been locked up for attempted murder.

  To compensate, any vampire heading down with me received free access to our human blood reserves. After all, it wouldn’t do to load up for battle only to have everyone around me get all woozy and faint.

  While Sally went upstairs, presumably to mix up the blood cocktails, Steve took charge assembling the strike team. His original plan called for a six-man crew: me, three other vampires, and two mages. Unfortunately, we ran into a bit of a problem with that latter part. Being part of a vampire coven meant that the concept of volunteering was more or less a bad joke. The Magi weren’t vampires, though. Technically, we could’ve tried compelling them, but I for one didn’t want to be walking into danger and suddenly have a pissed off wizard come to their senses around us. They’d been helping us for the purpose of mutual defense, but it was entirely of their own free will.

  Steve tried to use the logic about the best defense being a good offense to persuade them, but one of the mages who’d helped us defend Pandora’s Box - a wizard by the ridiculous stage name of Fontaine the Astounding - pointed out there was a fair bit of difference between the patrols they helped out with and making a stab directly into the heart of the enemy.

  I had to admit the risk-reward ratio on this one was kind of slim. I tried to use the argument that there must’ve been a reason the Jahabich kidnapped Ed rather than just biting his face off, but it was a dubious affair, as there was no guarantee the end would justify the means. The bottom line was this was a rescue mission because Ed was my friend. Painting it any other way was the equivalent of offering everyone a shit salad for lunch and asking them to close their eyes and dig in.

  Much to my surprise, though, the truth was all we needed. We were just about to ixnay our plans for magical backup when a volunteer stepped forward - a witch by the name of Miranda. I didn’t know her too well, but I’d heard that she and her husband had been performers at a small club off the Strip. The scuttlebutt around the club was they’d been active in the community, doing what they could to help Vegas’s large population of homeless. Their generosity had proven their undoing. At some point in the weeks prior to my arrival in this city, they’d been handing out sandwiches when one of those freak supernatural storms had hit and a pair of the Jahabich in disguise had waylaid them. She’d gotten away, but he hadn’t been so lucky. Ever since then, she’d been a mainstay in our patrol schedule.

  I was still surprised to hear her volunteer. In my few brushes with her, I’d gotten the impression she didn’t much like vampires. She wasn’t overly hostile toward any of us, but I definitely got the vibe that she considered us lower life forms. We were simply the lesser of evils and a means for revenge against the monsters who’d killed her mate. I didn’t figure her for the type to join us on what was probably a suicide mission. Maybe the possibility of getting some revenge in the Jahabich’s main lair was too tempting. Either way, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The plan called for six, but we could deal with five.

  It turned out Sally hadn’t been joking earlier. Brock was assigned to the team, although whether it was because of his martial skills or his desire to get into Kara’s pants I didn’t kn
ow - or ask. Speaking of Kara, she actually asked to join too. She knew Ed from our days of living in New York - when I’d still possessed a heartbeat - and had been on neutral terms with him. I think it was more out of loyalty to her big brother than anything else. Regardless, Steve vetoed that quickly, assigning Vlad - not his real name, obviously - to the team. He’d served as one of the club’s bouncers back in the days when it was still entertaining clientele.

  Steve put himself down as the final member of our little expedition, which made my opinion of him climb a notch. It also made me feel a bit better. I didn’t necessarily like the guy much, but he was competent.

  We’d need that trait down there as if our lives depended on it...probably because they did.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  We suited up and armed ourselves. Hardened Kevlar and ceramic body armor was the dress of choice for this mission, as touching those fucking monsters was akin to running one’s hand over broken glass. The downside? We would likely smell like a Sasquatch’s ass before we traveled more than a mile. Each of the vamps got a pickaxe or hammer, a combat knife, a shotgun loaded with explosive shells, and other such accoutrements - in short, mostly stuff I really wasn’t qualified to use.

  Steve was just loading up a backpack with grenades when Sally reappeared. She was carrying four large canteens, the contents of which I could easily guess.

  She put them down next to our supplies then turned toward us. “Strip.”

  “What?”

  “Not you,” she replied, pointing a finger at Steve. “Him. Take that stuff off and hand it over. You’re staying.”

  “But...”

  “I’m going with them. That’s all you need to know.”

  Steve froze in place. “Coven Master Sally, as your lieutenant, I must inform you that doing so is ill-advised.” I had to admire his courage. Most vamps had it beaten into their heads from an early age they shouldn’t breathe incorrectly at their master if they wanted to keep living.

  “And as coven master, I must inform you that I don’t give a shit about your opinion.”

  Silence overcame the room. No doubt everyone wondered if they were about to see their second bloodbath of the day. Eventually, Sally said in a nice, even voice, “Clear the room. I need to have a word with my subordinates.”

  It’s funny. When most people get all worked up, they usually start screaming at each other to sound intimidating, raising their voices to painful decibels. What they don’t realize is that a quiet, steady voice can be a lot scarier. Not surprisingly, the room cleared out quickly. I’d have gone too, but I’d heard the plural in Sally’s request. Also, she knew damn well I would jump at her commands about as well as she had during our Village Coven days.

  Once we were alone, she said, “I’m leaving you in charge, Steve.”

  “But I’m not...”

  “It’s time to stop being a behind-the-scenes guy. Both the coven and the refugees respect you. They’ll listen and do as they’re told. That’s key because if anything gets weird up here, I want you to relocate. Hell, it’s probably a good idea regardless.”

  “But this building is defensible. We have supplies...”

  “This building won’t mean shit if we can’t bury this problem. They’ve already proven that.”

  “They took us by surprise.”

  “Yeah, and who knows what tricks they’ll use next time. We underestimated them. These things are obviously smarter than they’re letting on. They didn’t need to stop today. They could have overrun us. For some reason, they chose not to, but next time, they might not. We don’t have enough vampires or wizards to fight them all. Also, you’ve seen what it’s like out there. There are things watching us from out in the desert, things that aren’t on our side. Eventually, they’re going to try their luck. We can’t fight a war on two fronts with what we’ve got.”

  “Reinforcements?” he asked.

  “Good luck,” I scoffed.

  “Bill’s right. Yvonne has about as much chance of helping us as I do of sprouting a penis.”

  “Chicks with di...”

  She turned and glared at me. “Don’t start. The Draculas won’t do shit either. We’re here to contain this problem, but Vegas isn’t otherwise tactically important to them. They won’t commit a sizable force if we get squashed.”

  “You could try calling James,” I offered.

  Sally’s face fell. “I already did. He’s not answering. He hasn’t answered my calls since New York.”

  Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I still think this is a poor idea. I could do this job. The coven needs you.”

  “No, the coven needs a leader. Anyone competent enough can fill those shoes, and you’re more than up to that task. Let Kara watch out for the humans. She’s good with them, but keep an eye on her. She’s young and occasionally her bloodlust gets the better of her.”

  “But where should we go?”

  “If things go to shit or we’re not back in a few days, try heading southwest. Find a quiet suburb to settle down in. Nobody in this godforsaken war seems to give a shit about those.”

  Sally was right on that one. Last I’d checked, my parents were still nestled pretty cozily in mid-Jersey. There’d been a little bit of weird stuff, but the main nastiness so far seemed to focus on the heavily rural and urban areas - go figure, the main strongholds of the respective sides in this clusterfuck.

  “When you get settled,” she continued, “make contact with Christy on the East Coast. Let her know where you are and what happened.”

  Steve opened his mouth again. I thought he was going to protest, but he closed it and then started unbuckling his weapons belt. “I just have one question...why?”

  Sally didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her head toward me and smiled. It was similar to one she’d given me months back, when we’d first discovered that Sheila was the Icon. I’d been on the verge of a breakdown, but she’d surprised me by coming through and standing by my side when I needed her most.

  “My partner needs me.”

  Journey into Darkness

  Though I’d have gladly taken a bullet than see any of my friends in harm’s way, I felt better as I stepped from the tunnel into the sewer proper with Sally by my side. We didn’t always win, but we always seemed to make it out of shit alive when we were together. I wasn’t a great believer in luck, but at that moment, I’d have taken anything that offered a bit of hope. Now to see if our streak held up.

  Sally handed one of the canteens to me as we stood at the intersection. “Time to juice up.”

  I took it from her overly pristine hand with its freshly polished nails.

  She must’ve noticed my confused stare because she added, “While I was mixing up the blood, I had Alfonso give me a manicure.”

  “A manicure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why? You do realize we’re heading into a sewer, not a nightclub, right?”

  “Of course, and I also realize that the chances of us coming back out are slim. If I never make it to the surface again, at least my last memory aboveground will be a happy one.”

  All of a sudden, that lucky feeling felt more like a leaden weight around my throat. What the fuck had I been thinking? “If you’re wearing five-inch heels when it’s time to bug out, I’m leaving your ass.”

  “If I have an occasion to wear five-inch heels, then you’d better damn well leave me because I’m probably in a situation where I don’t want us to be seen together.”

  “Are you two going to do this the entire trip?” Miranda asked, a high-powered headlamp shining from her forehead as the sole member of the search party without night vision.

  “Probably,” I commented, unscrewing the lid on the canteen. “Bottoms up.”

  Although we probably had about two gallons of vampire blood on us, I took only the barest of sips - maybe a shot glass’s worth. “Ugh.”

  “Something wrong?” Sally asked.
r />   “Weird aftertaste.”

  “Sorry. I mixed some anticoagulant in to keep it from turning into a clotted-up mess.”

  “Good idea, but next time, make sure it’s cherry flavored, okay...whoa!” The mingled blood mixture hit my stomach and I immediately felt the effects. It was similar to drinking one vamp’s blood, but a bit different nevertheless now that I took a moment to experience it. Think of the difference between drinking flat versus carbonated soda - something like that. Gee, I really hoped the concoction didn’t give me gas, although considering where we were headed, it’s not like people would notice.

  “So, what’s it like?” Brock asked.

  “Kinda like this.” I cocked back a fist and drove it into the wall. The damp masonry shattered like glass.

  “Whoa! Need to get me some of that shit.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to try it,” Sally said. “Vamp blood is an acquired taste that only Freewills can stomach.”

  “Jealous much?” I teased her. “I have some of you inside me. Maybe you want some of me...”

  “Finish that thought and I’ll finish you in my own special way.” She patted the oversized holster that held her preferred weapon - a fifty caliber Desert Eagle. “So how much of a boost did it give you?”

  “Not quite at James’s level, but not too far off, either.”

  “It’ll have to be enough. Now, make like a good little bloodhound and start sniffing.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Even a young vampire has senses far beyond that of normal humans. We can hear better, smell better, and see in the dark. The only downside of that last part is that I’m still stuck wearing glasses. With regards to smell, that’s not always a good thing, either. Don’t get me wrong; waking up just when the bakeries pulled their rolls from the oven was quite the joy, despite the fact that I preferred my muffins soaked in blood first. Reverse that, though, and a bad enough smell could feel like it punched you right in your soul. Sasquatches, for example, probably smell like rancid shit to a person, but to a vamp, it’s enough to make us wish for a quick death. Oddly enough, it’s not much different in sewers - go figure.