by Hunter Blain
4
John - France
Hayley pulled into the garage of the upscale Airbnb home located in the suburbs of Le Plessis-Belleville, which was strategically located just outside Paris in the direction of our last stop, Germany.
Without a word, we got out and both made our way into the backyard. It was positioned in such a way that there was an open area behind the house with high privacy walls on either side of the property.
We made it to where Ludvig should have been resting in an area that was large enough to be seen from the Maps app but small enough to hide whoever was transported from prying eyes.
Outdoor wicker furniture had been positioned to form an enclosure. Then the exact spot had been marked on the map with a pin, allowing for an accurate teleportation.
Seeing the area empty, Hayley and I shot confused looks at one another before we heard a door open from somewhere in the house, followed by singing.
Hayley strode in first with me just behind, and we saw Ludvig wrapped in a towel, having apparently just enjoyed a refreshing shower. It had taken us a while to drive from the hidden bunker built amidst warehouses to the rented house, but I was still impressed with how fast the big man had recovered.
“Hello, guys!” Ludvig called out jovially, as if he hadn’t just almost been murdered by a were-pire with godlike powers. Jeez. What a premise. Has Hu-Flix called yet?
“Are you okay?!” Hayley asked aloud while searching every inch of exposed skin.
“I’m fine,” Ludvig answered with a smile, touched at how much his wife cared. I still remember when Hayley proposed as if it were yesterday.
“Phone,” I called out, to which Lude made an “ah” face and walked back into the master bedroom. His clothes were strewn on the floor, but he had at least set my priceless phone made by the US government on the soft bed.
He underhand tossed it to me, and I caught it, slapping it on my wrist. Looking down, I saw a message from Locke.
“Update?”
“Persistent little bastard,” I mouthed as I typed out, “Destroyed the base, but encountered something new.” I dropped my hand after hitting send, thinking about the creature over and over again as if in doing so my brain would be able to explain away the impossibility of its existence.
A lightsaber sound told me I had a response. It was a simple “?” that I knew to be of sassy origins, seeing as how it was from Locke.
My fingers froze as I tried to type what I thought the monster to be. Then I shook my head, hard, and wrote, “Feral werewolf with vampire abilities mixed with the power over obsidian and teleportation.”
I hit send, and had to stifle a chuckle as I could almost hear Locke from halfway across the world screaming at his phone, “What?!”
I dropped my hand again, trying not to laugh at the image of my friend freaking out over what I said, when a lightsaber sounded again.
“What?!”
I barked out a loud, throaty chuckle as my free hand covered my eyes. I might have been crying too, but I wasn’t certain.
The theme to Beetlejuice rang out, startling me, and I looked down to see Locke’s name with a picture of him sleeping on the couch, his mouth hanging open in his slumber. He had whipped cream in both of his hands and an ivory feather was in frame, almost touching his nose.
I slid to answer, putting the phone on speaker.
“Dude, I’m not joking,” I said before Locke could say anything.
Locke answered with stunned silence before he attempted to speak again.
“Wha-wha-what do you mean?”
“Like I said. It was a freaking werewolf—”
“Feral werewolf,” Hayley interrupted.
“Right, feral werewolf that could, like, blur and apparently drink blood. Oh, and he could heal, even against silver. Let’s see...what else...”
“Tell him about de sword.”
“Oh yeah. He could manifest an Aztec sword, which leads me to believe they got Tez.”
“Don’t forget about freaking teleporting,” Hayley added.
“Oh yeah, and tele—”
“I heard her, John. I’m assuming the phone is on speaker.”
“Ah, right...”
“Let’s take a step back. You destroyed one of the last warlock bases guarding the ley line of Paris, correct?”
“Right.”
“And Germany is next on the list?”
“Last, actually,” I corrected, remembering how Lily had suggested we finish the mission in Germany.
“And this...this thing came out of nowhere?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, this is both good and bad. And before you ask, I mean good because it could be seen as a sign of desperation. But bad...”
“Because they have a badass ultra were-pire that beat our asses and almost killed Ludvig. We got lucky when it ran away because of dawn.”
There was a poignant pause before Locke asked, “Dawn? It left because of the sun?”
“Yeah,” I answered, shaking my head as I tried to understand why that was of relevance.
“Then we know its weakness, at least.”
“Oh! Right...”
“Frost hurt it too,” Hayley added, walking up to be better heard over the speakerphone.
“Well, you did freaking stab it in the chest and fill it with ice. Pretty damn sure that would fuck up anybody’s shit. Know what I mean, Vern?”
“Why do you keep saying that? Who’s Vern?”
Sighing at how young the warden probably was, I crossed my free hand over my chest and grabbed my shoulder while still holding out my phone, choosing to ignore Hayley’s blasphemous question. No one disrespects Ernest. No one.
“Okay, sun and ice. What about fire?” Locke asked. I could tell he was formulating a list of some sort, probably in Excel. He was good like that.
“I hit it with a fireball, but it ran it out.”
“Ran...it out?”
“He blurred,” I corrected.
“Ah, got ya,” Locke acknowledged, then he drawled as if writing something down, “Can...out...run...fire...okay, what else?”
“Did I mention that silver didn’t hurt it? Ludvig hit it with freaking forty-five ammo, and it did nothing.”
“Nine, actually,” Ludvig corrected.
“Nine what?”
“Nine-millimeter.”
“Oh, right. I knew that. Still, though. That shit’s impressive.”
“Alright, I think I have enough to do some digging. Do I need to go ahead and book the next base?”
“Yes, please,” Hayley answered politely.
“And can you get us a freaking van or something? An SUV at least? Do you have any idea how hard it is to lug around all this equipment?”
“You said you wanted to be inconspicuous,” Locke countered.
“Dude...just...just—”
“I’ll get an SUV for you guys. I assume it’s alright if it isn’t electric?”
“Just get what ya can, please,” I answered with a sigh, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. I needed sleep, but not for the replenishment of energy. I simply wanted my brain to shut off for a few hours.
“Alright. What’s your time frame?”
I lifted my hand away from my eyes to look at Hayley, wordlessly begging her to step in. I was done.
“It’s early morning here. Checkout is at eleven, our time. So that gives us,” she grabbed my wrist and turned it to look at the time, “around four and a half hours.”
“Copy. I’ll have the rental agency drop off an SUV and pick up the car. Make sure it’s unloaded.”
“Got it. Thank you, Locke,” Hayley said sweetly in a singsong.
“Ugh,” I bid my farewell to my friend before hanging up.
“You alright there, princess?” Hayley asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Tired. I wanna shower and sleep for a bit. You guys got everything else?”
“Oh, sure, sweetheart. Just let us do all the p
acking of the equipment while you go ahead and get your pretty little nails done and maybe throw in some highlights. You deserve it.”
“Lilith, lady, take it easy,” I said, walking past the sassy warden to one of the spare rooms. I’d let the couple have the master, ’cause I’m a nice guy like that. That, and Hayley swore if she didn’t get the en suite bathroom and biggest bed, she and Ludvig would have the loudest sex ever in the living room whenever I was trying to rest or watch movies. I wanted to argue, but I’d remembered Hayley telling me in private that the big man constantly soaked the sheets in his sweat, plus took up a lot more room than I did. So it did make logical sense for them to have the biggest room. She had also complained about his snoring, but that’d made me burst out laughing because that girl could snore like a world champion. I hadn’t felt like explaining it to her when she’d asked why I was laughing.
In my room, I slipped off my clothes, put on a nice, fluffy robe I had brought, and walked to the washer and dryer. It was weird that across the pond, people had their washer and dryer in a single unit AND had it in the kitchen. Mind-boggling stuff.
My question for the whole world was, why the hell did no one put the damn washer and dryer IN THE BATHROOM? I mean, if you had a big enough bathroom or closet, wouldn’t it make sense to keep it close to where your clothes ended up once clean? Anywho...
I threw my clothes in the washer and dryer combo, including the trench, and set it to the handwash setting. I wasn’t worried about the simple machine destroying my Fae armor. No, no, quite the contrary. I was afraid my clothes would somehow lash out and break the machine, sending water spilling into the home. It wasn’t that I was a polite guest or anything. I just didn’t want to deal with the phone call to a no doubt angry Locke, who would then have to call the Airbnb people and replace the unit.
Walking back to my room, I saw Ludvig asleep on the couch, his legs spread dangerously far apart with only a towel around his waist.
“Yeeeesh,” I shuddered, averting my gaze before I saw his Swedish meatballs.
Back in my room, I closed the door while opening my phone and selecting an album from one of my favorite bands, Consider the Source. The speakers on the wrist-mounted phone were surprisingly amazing. It sounded like I was in a 7.1 theater or something, but to anyone looking in, it barely made any noise. I guess cell phone makers got tired of people using public transport and playing their terrible music for all to hear, as if everyone was secretly thanking them for forcing the music down their ears. Seriously, is that what they thought? “Oh yeah, everybody wants to hear this vulgar, sexually explicit song mumbled by someone who sounds like he is just waking up from oral surgery.” I was this freaking close to adding those types of people to my list of morally acceptable prey.
My music, which was better than everyone else’s, relaxed my mind as the water washed away the dirt and debris from my body.
A hand went up to press against my torso, and I gagged at remembering how it felt to have an entire human inside of my chest cavity. Well, almost entire. My shirt or coat had somehow cut the dude like a laser. I really needed to ask TayTay about that.
Because it was our last day here, I used the rest of the conditioner by squeezing it out to pool in my hand. Once it started overflowing, I brought the bottle up to my head and squeezed out the rest before letting the last of it end up in my thick beard.
With a palm that was overflowing, I used both hands and started scrubbing at my hair, beard, and even my eyebrows. Technically I had paid for whatever fancy conditioner this was, and by golly, I was going to use every last bit!
After standing under the showerhead for several minutes while the remnants of what a normal person would call “a years’ worth” of soap finally left my hair, I looked at the full bar of fancy-shmancy soap, and growled.
Picking up the bar, I lathered my entire body, twice, and then rinsed off, leaving me with almost a complete bar of soap.
“Grr,” I growled while bringing my hands together and rubbing them back and forth at preter-speeds, making a waterfall of bubbles spill from between my palms as the soap was whittled away into nothing.
There was a heat in my hands, and I stopped as I saw red flowing down the drain.
“Eh-yah!” I called out as I brought my hands up to my face and saw that I had rubbed them to the bone. “Damn you, Mr. Soap!”
I let the water wash the rest of my blood away as my flesh healed.
Now, I know you are thinking, “You sure do hate that soap, Mr. Vampire!” And you’d be wrong. It’s just been a long...freaking...day. You have them. I have them. We all have them. Just one of those days when everything seems to get on your nerves and your skin crawls at the most minute of inconveniences...like a defiant full bar of soap. You get it...
Once I got my money’s worth, I shut off the shower and picked up a damp towel off the ground. Past John was a dick who had no consideration for Future John.
After I was mostly dry, I dropped the wet towel on the ground and put my robe on. I am aware that some people put their robe on while still wet, and to those people I say: yuck. There’s just something about the wet cotton clinging to you that reminds me of really old people trying to hug you. It’s not firm, but it’s there enough to let you know this is happening. Even though you can easily move, it is still weird to me. I don’t know why; that’s just how it is.
I entered the living room in the extra-long robe that went all the way down to my ankles, and plopped down on the couch. I saw that Ludvig had retreated to the bedroom at some point during my shower.
Bringing up my phone—which I had connected to the TV day one—I selected a familiar movie to play while the hamster in my brain tried to force the rusted, squeaky wheel to turn.
Danny Elfman’s brilliant composition came to life as the camera swooped down a winding labyrinth that turned out to be the Batman logo. Then a family was walking down a bustling city street at night, unable to find their way.
Hushed grunts and moans were sneaking under the master bedroom’s door to invade my ears. With a scowl, I turned the volume up right as the two homeless baddies were counting their score, all while a dark figure approached from behind.
I zoned out. Sound became muffled, as if noise-canceling headphones had been slipped on. My vision concentrated only on the movie in front of me as the rest of the living room vanished like sand in the wind.
***
“Listen to me. There ain’t...no...bat,” I hear what I assume to be the leader of the homeless duo say around a freshly lit cigarette.
I descend from somewhere on high to stand, without a sound, on the rooftop where my students of pain sit patiently for the bell to ring. I am their teacher in the ways of justice, and class is in session.
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have turned the gun on that kid, man. Shouldn’t have turned the gun on that—”
“Hey!” the leader exclaims. “Do you want your cut of this money or not? Now shut up. Shut...up.”
I let my footsteps be heard, prompting the duo to look up and see a monster escaped from their nightmares.
They scramble in their panic as I lift my wings to glide the rest of the way to their level.
The leader pulls out a gun and fires several rounds into me. I make a show of going down, letting him think he’s won.
The men turn to flee the scene, only to see the rooftop access is boarded shut. The orchestra intensifies as stringed instruments sing out in a high octave. I am on my feet again, raising my cape to further elevate their levels of terror.
I kick the second thug through the boarded rooftop access, feeling ribs crack under my boot.
The leader frantically turns to run, and I retrieve my batarang from my belt. It whistles through the air to wrap around the fool’s leg, and I drag him back with a cord strong enough to support a car.
“Oh God,” the man croaks before I lift him by his shirt collar, his feet dangling over the roof. Then I move to the side, and he is now dangling several
stories above an unforgiving alley. I want him to know the pavement would share with him the same courtesy he had shown his victims. Stone is careless to the plight of those around it.
“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, man! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, man!” he cries out, unaware of the irony in his change of status on the food chain.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I rasp out. “I want you to do me a favor. I want you to tell all your friends about me.”
“What are you?” he nearly shrieks.
“I’m Johnman.”
I throw the thug to the side, content with the message given, and jump off the roof, disappearing into the night.
***
The door to the master bedroom swung open and Hayley walked into the kitchen, snagged a cold water bottle from the fridge, and returned to the living room to plop at the other end of the couch from where I sat. She sighed in satisfaction after taking a large chug from the plastic bottle. She was wearing what I thought to be running shorts and a long-sleeve T-shirt.
“Where’s Lude?” I asked, not taking my eyes from the screen.
“Shower.”
“Again?”
“He sweats.”
“Ah...gross.”
“Mhmph.”
“Aren’t you gonna shower? I mean, I can basically hear the dripping from here.”
“Funny,” she responded sarcastically. “I’ll jump in next.”
“Why not together?”
“Because he can’t keep his hands to himself, and I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”
“Ah.”
“Mhmph,” she said again as she watched the movie. “Seriously, how many times are you going to watch this?”
“Infinity plus one.”
“I don’t understand your fascination with it.”
“Well, you’re a chick, so I really wouldn’t expect you to understand. I’m sorry I don’t have any, like, glittery unicorns and pouty lip stickers for you to play with.”
To my surprise, Hayley didn’t participate in our usual back-and-forth as I dangled the bait. Instead, she leaned her head back on the comfy couch and watched the movie.
