Marcus shrugged, “For a first timer you did just fine.” He smirked, “Though you will be punished for lagging.”
Xander frowned, feeling weak and exhausted, “How?”
Marcus pointed off towards the left, “Stan lives in that direction.”
Xander glared at him, “I have to walk home?”
Marcus sighed and shook his head, “You will not walk! You will jump from rooftop to rooftop until you’re out of the city, then you’ll finish the trip in overdrive.” He gave him a smirk then, “By the way, that lagging sensation you’re feeling is normal; comes from being in overdrive for so long, so I suggest you don’t lag this time.” With that he turned and walked towards and over the edge of the roof, dropping the full distance before landing on his feet. Brushing himself off, he looked up towards the rooftop, “I’ll have a meal waiting for you when you get there. And be sure to hose yourself off before you come in!” With that he turned and headed towards his car.
Xander took a moment to catch his breath, shaking his head and cursing Marcus’ name, before he looked down for the first time to admire the rings. The first bore an intricate inlay design that traveled around its length while the second had a strange symbol etched onto one side. The last—a small, silver band with a tiny ruby on top—he had trouble fitting on his pinky and he finally resorted to licking the length of his finger before successfully sliding it on all the way. Staring at them all he marveled at how, though they were each different and seemed in no way related to the others, they seemed appropriate together.
He sighed, dragging his eyes away from his prizes, and looked off in the direction that Marcus had pointed him in and stepped up to the edge of the rooftop, gauging the distance between his and the neighboring building. Before taking the first leap, he looked once more at his left hand and his newest treasures.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
No tag-backs/A lover scorned
It had been a little more than two weeks’ worth of searching, and Erika had finally tracked down Brad’s killer. It had taken a great deal of planning and snooping around, and she had been forced to call in a few favors from a few of her closer friends, but the time had finally come that she would have her revenge.
Despite all her efforts, she knew little more about her target beside the fact that he was driving a beat-up Subaru through the city at two-in-the-morning…
… and that he was about to die!
All the vengeance that had been welling up within her leapt through her throat at that moment and stuck, choking her up and bringing tears to her eyes.
“I love you, Brad,” she whispered as she watched her prey drive by.
She had chosen an all-black outfit for the task—wearing loose-fitting sweats to keep away the cold and allow her to move without any restrictions. While it wasn’t very stylish, it was effective. Coupled with the fanny-pack at her waist, she looked like nothing more than a late-night jogger.
When she was certain it was safe to do so, she allowed her body to slip into the next phase of motion, and rocketed like a bullet after her target. She had almost never found a use for flitting—an ability that, until then, she’d seen as unneeded for a modern-day vampire—but, now that it was about to help her get her revenge, it meant the world to her. As she followed after her target, she circled once around the bastard’s piece-of-shit car as though it were standing still in the middle of the street.
Once in position, she reached down, tugging the zipper of her pack and growling as it snagged. Her aggravation grew and she yanked it harder, tearing the fabric and finally retrieving her stolen Glock.
A year-or-so back, an asshole sporting a hard-on had decided to try and take her by force. At first, it had been difficult to discern the gun from his prick, so she had torn both free from their respective grips, winning two prizes at once and walking away as the man dropped to the ground behind her and screamed over his broken fingers and lost manhood. The penis she’d discarded soon after in a garbage bin, but the gun was too sleek and sexy to toss.
Pleased with her position, Erika aimed—taking her time and savoring the moment—and pulled the trigger before returning to normal speed. The bullet, from her perspective, went from a slow-moving joke to an untraceable blur that blew out the front passenger-side tire and sent a chunk of black, stinking rubber flying down the street. No longer balanced, the car fell at an angle, screeching and throwing sparks all over the street.
Erika watched the delicious chaos for a moment before flitting once again—watching as the car froze in mid-swerve—in order to take her second shot and returning to normal again at a safe distance. The second bullet tore the opposite tire to hell and dropped the front-end of the car and sent it skidding until it collided with a nearby light post.
She smirked, playing with her grip on the gun’s handle. She could’ve simply put a bullet in her target’s head…
… but then he’d never get to see his killer’s face.
Smiling for a moment, Erika leveled the gun at her target as he tore a hole in the roof and climbed out through his home-made sunroof. The murderer—“Marcus” Brad had called him—looked up at her and, seeing the gun, disappeared in a blur just as she squeezed the trigger. A moment later he appeared a short distance away as the bullet flew over the roof of the car.
****
Marcus heaved from the sudden jump in and out of overdrive. Like training the kid wasn’t exhausting enough, now he had to deal with some psychopathic rogue?
Realizing that his clan-issued Berretta was still in the car, he tore the passenger-side door off its hinges and flung it at the shooter to throw them off while he fetched it from the glove-box. The gun—a nine-millimeter M9—had yet to let him down in a time of need and he hoped that this occasion wouldn’t be an exception.
****
Erika hoisted herself from the ground after jumping clear of a flying door and caught sight of the asshole as he drew his own weapon and pulled the trigger over and over. Once again forced to flit out of range, Erika evaded the shots and returned to normal speed several yards away and returned fire. Three shots were fired and another furious pull of the trigger was met with…
Nothing?
Shit!
She’d been carrying a piece for more than a year only to have it not be fully loaded?
She had convinced herself that her love for Brad would carry the bullets through the asshole’s head before a reload had been necessary. She growled and cursed her poetic mind and the falsities of romantic mysticism as she tossed the weapon aside and charged at him; her fangs fully-extended.
At least she’d been smart enough to establish some backup if the situation turned ugly.
****
“Fuck!”
Marcus cursed and dove to the left, dodging the psycho bitch-rogue and landing painfully on his already-sore shoulder and rolling to his feet. He listened as his gun hit the pavement and skidded across to the other lane.
The bitch was fast, he’d give her that much, but she was sloppy. Either that or she had never been in a fight before. He watched as she stumbled, trying to get a fresh grip on the ground to try and charge at him again.
****
She’d missed, but her target had hurt himself in the process of avoiding her. She couldn’t be sure how bad his injuries were, but his left shoulder was sagged and he was clutching it as he glared, awaiting her next attack.
He moved into a wide stance and narrowed his eyes at her. She knew little of fighting, but Erika had watched enough crappy interpretive dance routines to know when somebody was preparing to jump without knowing at that moment what direction it was going to be in.
He was expecting her to charge again.
She snarled and, instead, pushed off the ground—springing into the air like a cat and coming down hard on the fucker as he tried to compensate for a faulty strategy. With revenge so close at hand, Erika thought of Brad. She thought of his face and how he’d made her feel just with a simple stare. The warmth that
she used to feel when he touched her swelled under her skin and turned to rage as she spotted Brad’s murderer. Feeling her fangs begin to extend, she hissed and swung her right hand. The attack caught him in his throat and reminded her how hungry she was to both see and taste his blood.
****
“Dammit!” Jurek rubbed his arms with his palms. The network of fibers that made up the fish-net top he wore stretched and relaxed with each rough pass, “It’s fuckin’ cold out here!”
Derryl shook his head and glared, “Did you honestly expect that… thing you’re wearing to keep you warm?” his voice rang out as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his fur coat. “Seriously, you’re out of your mind! At least Erika had the mind to wear something warm.”
Jurek scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, “You’re glad that she’s all covered up? Fag!”
The two grew silent, as they often did when Derryl’s sexuality came up. They shifted, looking away from one-another and peering over the edge of the rooftop Erika had asked them to wait on. Another breeze kicked up Derryl’s coat tails and Jurek shivered and swore again.
“I mean, maybe we don’t even need to be here! Huh? She’s kicking the shit outa that blood-sucking bastard down there! What the hell does she need us for?!”
“We’re here in case something goes wrong. Yes, she’s got the situation handled, but things can go awry and she’s asked us to wait here for her in case they do.”
“You’re here because you were best friends with Brad and are just as interested in seeing the leech dead!” Jurek spat, not turning away from the battle in the street.
“If it’s so miserable for you to help out”—Derryl shot a glare at his companion and grinned as a hard shudder crawled up his spine—“then get lost!”
Another silent moment was shared.
Jurek looked up at his friend, still shaken, and heaved out a foggy sigh. “Just said we didn’t need to be here,” he mumbled, “Didn’t say anything ‘bout leaving.”
****
Marcus could feel his pulse in the spot the rogue had hit him, and it felt like the throbbing might wrap around his throat and choke him.
Looking up at her, he bared his fangs and hissed. There was no longer any doubt that she wanted a fight, and he wasn’t about to lie there, gasping for breath while the bitch got her way. He smiled with satisfaction as she recoiled and he jumped up, catching her at the waist with a hard kick and bringing her crashing down to the street. He pulled his fist up and brought it down to where her head had been a millisecond earlier.
****
The fucker was trained!
Brad’s killer wasn’t some art thief or bitter rival come to get some trophy. He was a fucking professional!
She saw his fist coming and rolled her neck to the side at the last moment, screaming in surprise as the force chipped the road and sent bits of it into her face. If she lived through this, there’d be scars. She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. It would be worth it. Beauty had died in Brad’s bedroom…
It was time for the beast!
The fury in her grew and her knee pulled up, driving it into his chest and forcing bloody breath from his lungs. He roared out in animalistic fury and jumped to his feet, gulping in air and stomping down.
Rolling free, Erika did a back-handspring—recalling her time spent in gymnastics—to her feet and charged him again. The hunger was eating away at her. Never before had she put so much effort into anything and her body was beginning to argue with her demands. Though it felt like they’d been fighting for hours, not even half-a-minute had passed.
She gritted her teeth and let out a jagged breath; all of this just meant she was putting her all into killing him.
****
Marcus had been holding back, thinking that the bitch might tire herself out and then high-tail it and he’d have a story to tell the kid as a lesson in being prepared, but there seemed to be little hope in her wising up anytime soon.
Still, she did look familiar; old girlfriend?
She started throwing punches at him with both hands in a fashion that made Marcus think that maybe she’d watched too many Kung Fu movies. They were easy enough to evaded, but the few that landed did more-than enough damage. A fist slid by his defenses and he felt a sharp pain in his right arm as something broke.
Block. Block.
Broken collarbone.
Block.
Torn lip.
Block. Block. Block.
The pain caught up on him and he stumbled and soon all of the attacks began landing. His worn-out body slipped out of overdrive and he felt the individual punches turn into an unbearable force that pushed down harder and harder. He couldn’t see her arms anymore, just a woman standing over him and blurs extending from her shoulders.
Her face was so damn familiar!
He stared, trying to ignore the pain of a thousand simultaneous punches. It was beyond even trying to block them anymore; at her speed it would have been trying to stop a bus with a spit bubble.
She was pretty, he had to admit it, but more hippy-esque then he was usually attracted to.
Hippy?
Brad!
He frowned and felt that his nose had broken and wondered how many punches ago that had been.
He frowned and tried to ball up to protect his organs. He had done his job! A simple mission! He didn’t want to think of Brad being killed by one of the others of the clan… so he had taken it. And now his mission’s angry girlfriend was taking her revenge.
He stared up again at her as tears streamed down her face, her fists still pounding him with inhuman speed. Almost at once he felt several of his ribs break and his eyesight dimmed. As he questioned whether or not he felt remorse for taking the Brad-job, Marcus saw the shaggy black hair and the fierce red eye rushing towards them.
****
Remembering how exhausted he’d felt after his training in overdrive, Xander had decided to save some energy and rest for a moment.
There was still a long distance to be traveled and he was thinking of moving on when he heard gunshots and a crash several blocks over. Curious, he turned away from the path to Stan’s house and instead followed the sounds.
At first he saw nothing; just some wrecked car that had gotten itself wrapped around a streetlight. As he continued to stare, however, there was a sudden shimmer near the wreck; a shimmer that he recognized as the movement of a vampire in overdrive. He frowned, looking back at the totaled car and realized that it was Marcus’.
Concern rising, he looked closer; watching as the shimmering blur began to fall into focus.
Marcus’ body appeared on the street and began morphing in front of his eyes into a broken and bloodied heap. After a second another individual shimmered into view: a woman with a dark yellow aura—her arms moving in a blur as she dealt more and more damage to his mentor. As he watched, Xander saw Marcus’ bright blue aura begin to dim.
Scanning the streets for anything he could use to turn the tides of the fight, he saw a discarded handgun. Though he wasn’t sure whose it was, it mattered little at the moment and he jumped from the rooftop and hurried to retrieve it.
****
“Who the hell is that?!” Jurek demanded, thrusting a long finger in the direction of a figure that dropped down from a shop across the street.
Derryl shook his head. “He’s not with us,” he said as his feet began to lift off the rooftop, “And that can mean only one thing!”
“This mean we finally get to see some action?” Jurek asked, suddenly unbothered by the cold.
The fur-clad auric didn’t respond as he flew off the roof like a human cannonball and hurtled towards the scene.
Jurek’s smiling face tightened as he groaned in pain, his jaw twitching and snapping forward. His body seized, his joints tightening as his muscles bulged under his skin and he felt himself sway for a moment as his six-foot frame became an over eight-foot one. A hot wave swept over him and he grinned, letting out an excite
d chuckle, as a patch of nearby ice melted and evaporated from his body heat. The all-too-familiar sensation of his bones breaking and reshaping cut his laughter off and he threw his head back and howled in both pain and exhilaration.
It hurt like a motherfucker, but something in the release from the filthy human form compensated for it.
****
Xander ran towards his mentor and the female vampire attacking him; fumbling with the retrieved handgun. When he was sure that his grip on the weapon was firm enough he took aim.
Only to have it ripped from his hands by a bright purple aura.
****
The young vampire was bold, Derryl noted, but he was also very, very clueless.
Grinning, he brought the stolen Beretta closer to himself, disassembling the weapon as he did until all the separate pieces floating in his aura resembled a metallic grape Jell-O mold. Finally, with the gun rendered useless, Derryl pulled his aura back into himself and let the various components fall to the street.
Jurek’s energy signature grew stronger as he jumped down from the roof and his heavy steps approached from behind.
****
The auric that had taken the gun had caught Xander off guard, but it was the approaching monstrosity that scared him! He stared, slack-jawed, as the beast—looking like an eight-foot tall, bipedal pit bull with a steroid problem—stopped beside the smirking auric and looked Xander over. Its aura, the same color as October leaves, writhed around its bulking form like a nest of snakes, rolling out with each heavy breath. It grunted, looking towards the auric beside him—heavy clouds of breath wafting from its gaping jaws.
Its companion shrugged, pulling his hands from the pockets of his long, brown fur coat and pinching the end of his chin as he looked at Xander for a long, silent moment. In the distance, the sound of Marcus’ beating continued, and Xander frowned and looked away long enough to determine that his mentor wouldn’t last much longer.
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 23
