I ran for the next set of doors. The ballroom. I did not really know what I was going to do if I stumbled across the enemy. She had moved so quickly that I could scarcely believe my own eyes. Hopefully I would have time to blow Ray's brains out before Susan tore my head off. I really wished that I had Gretchen and her faith right about then. I knew that I did not have time to gain religion in the next few seconds, but it sure would have been nice.
The doors opened. I stepped quickly into the ancient ballroom. I heard a noise, something wet and slurping. I shined the Surefire light across the walls. The old-fashioned mirrors reflected the brilliant beam, over and over, refracting seemingly without end from all of the reflective surfaces. Even the chandelier was briefly lit. My reflection stared back at me from twenty mirrors, but there was another reflection as well. Ray Shackleford was in the center of the room, legs sprawled on the floor, head tilted back and mouth lifelessly open, torso slowly rocking, unsupported at an impossible angle as if he were held up with wires. I turned to face the center of the dance floor.
He was not unsupported at all. Vampires just didn't cast reflections. His wife held him, cradled in her arms. She was in human form again, squatting, with her naked back toward me. She was feeding from Ray's neck. She stopped drinking when the beam struck her. Susan lifted her dripping face and kissed her husband tenderly on the forehead, leaving a crimson lip imprint, before letting him drop limply to the ground. She looked at me and smiled. Her eyes reflected the light like a cat. She licked the blood from her lips.
"We have some unfinished business, you and I." She wiped her forearm across her face, and smeared blood down her bare chest. She strode wantonly toward me. I was terrified. I snapped Abomination to my shoulder, aimed at Ray's brain cage, and squeezed the trigger. It might have been murder, but the fate of the world was at stake.
Nothing happened.
I could feel the texture of the metal beneath the joint of my finger, but it wouldn't respond. I concentrated, but I could not force myself to pull the trigger. My hand would not respond to my brain. I could feel her presence, boring into me, her iron will testing itself against mine. She walked right into the gun, putting the muzzle directly between her breasts and over her heart. I could not fire. My body was frozen. I could not even move.
"You are a strong one," she told me, "but your human will is no match for mine." She dragged one fingernail under my eye, opening the skin and spilling blood down my cheek. A black presence pushed against my conscious mind, probing it violently, relentlessly. "Tell me, how did you hurt me? How did you burn me? Nothing can inflict pain upon a Master, but that did."
I tried to speak through rigidly clenched jaws. I fought a battle inside my skull, a fiercer fight than anything I had ever experienced before, a struggle for the very control of my body. The black weight pressed down hard, and unfortunately for me, this was an unfamiliar battleground.
"Tell me your secret, Hunter. Tell me and I will give you a gift. I can see it in your mind, the very thing you desire most." She smiled seductively. "Let go of your secrets, join me, and I will give you my daughter. She can be yours forever."
The blackness encroached into my vision, I could feel the tendrils of her power crawling deep into my mind, and I was powerless to stop it. I did not know how to defeat something with no physical body. Pain began to emanate from my skull, rippling down my paralyzed spine, and searing every nerve in agony. I fought on, I did not know how, but I knew that I fought.
"I just have to say, Hunter, you have the strongest will of any mortal I have ever encountered. You'll make a good servant for Lord Machado." I watched in horror as her razor fangs extended. I knew what was going to come next. She would rip me open and drain my blood. Either she would let me just die to rise again as a near mindless undead, or she would open her own veins and force me to partake of her blood, and I would become a horrible beast in her image. I despaired, but I fought on.
Boy. Let me help.
I heard the comforting voice of the Old Man. Suddenly I had hope. Something else joined my internal struggle, another presence took up the fight, the blackness paused, and was then overwhelmed and pushed aside. I gasped in relief as my muscles unlocked.
Susan stopped, her teeth hovering centimeters from my throat. "How—"
Abomination cut her off as a solid ounce of silver exploded through her black heart. She stumbled in surprise. I felt the Old Man's presence leave my body to continue his assault against her mind.
"You want my secrets?" BOOM. BOOM. I shot her twice through the face. "You really want to know?" BOOM. BOOM. I shot her in the throat and chin. "There is no secret . . ." BOOM. A slug pierced through her brain, rocking her back. "I just hate monsters!" CLICK. I released the silver bayonet. It locked into place with a snap. "So go to hell . . ." I slammed the broad blade through her torso and released the shotgun as I reached for my knife. "And die . . ." THWACK. The ganga ram's blade embedded halfway through her throat, lodging against her hardened spine. Black fluids and fresh red blood geysered forth. "You evil bitch!" I wrenched the big blade violently free.
She grabbed my shotgun and pulled the blade out. Abomination was still slung to my body. She swung it around and I was dragged along. I was launched hard across the dance floor. I crashed and skidded, coming to a stop next to Ray Shackleford. The big, red lip prints on his forehead would have looked silly if our situation had not been so deadly serious.
Susan twisted her head around as her wounds closed. I had not even slowed her down. She changed right before my eyes, lengthening, thickening, twisting into the gray killing machine that we had seen upstairs. Her brown eyes, so like Julie's, filled with blood and turned into red pools of hate. I could feel the Old Man's presence in the room with us, but after his initial surprise, he had nothing to offer against this creature.
I got to my knees as I pulled my STI and placed the .45 against Ray's temple. He looked up at me weakly, and nodded. The vampire paused, pulsing and seething in its killing rage.
"Stop or I'll waste him. Even you aren't that fast." I had about two and a half pounds of pressure on the three-pound trigger. I felt her will intrude against my own, but this time I was ready. I knew what was coming. I cannot explain the mechanism of it, but her attack was thwarted. This time my will was mine and mine alone.
"Mom!" Julie called from the entrance. An ominous hum emanated from the lit flamethrower in her hands. "Your invitation has been revoked. Get the hell out of my house!" She depressed the trigger.
The vampire was engulfed in a spray of pressurized napalm. The stream of jellified gasoline exploded in a wall of intense heat, setting the floor afire, and shattering several of the antique mirrors under the assault. I grabbed Ray by the collar and pulled him away as burning fuel splashed in every direction.
Trip appeared on the balcony above. "Run, Z!" he shouted as he leveled the grenade launcher at the inferno. He at least waited long enough for me to be out of the blast radius before launching a high explosive round into the floor at the monster's feet. The concussion was horrendous. The priceless chandelier fell from its mounting and crashed to earth, flying into millions of separate shards.
Susan's burning body was flung against the far wall, shattering the glass doors to the veranda. Julie kept up a constant spray of napalm. Even the mightiest queen of the undead could not regenerate under that onslaught. The vampire smashed through the glass. I picked up Abomination and fired a grenade after her. My aim was off, but it was close enough to shred the burning flesh from her bones.
I heard Trip shouting. "Backblast! Backblast!" I looked up in time to see Holly steadying her RPG over her shoulder. Firing that with her back against a wall would probably be immediately fatal.
"Oh yeah," she said, "damn it!" She threw the rocket-propelled grenade aside and retrieved her rifle. And she had been so looking forward to blasting something with it.
Julie followed her mother, keeping up the onslaught of fire and burning fuel. The ballroom was burning no
w, and it was spreading up the walls and toward the ceiling. The house was going up. She finally stopped, and the flamethrower's stream died off to a small flame.
Her mother was on the burning veranda, a charred and curled skeleton, flesh turned to ash. The creature crumbled as it tried to move, revealing blackened and twisted bones. She slowly stood, ash falling away, new flesh and tissues already pulsing underneath.
"Won't you just die already?" Julie screamed. She was crying. My heart went out to her. Her home was burning down, and her undead mother was intent on drinking her blood. It was a really crappy evening by any standard.
Then something strange happened. One second the room was burning, fire licking around us, scalding us with intense heat, and the next second it just stopped. The flames were extinguished, leaving only smoking embers. The temperature dropped at least seventy degrees almost instantly, as if we had just stepped into a walk-in freezer. My breath came out in a cloud of ice vapor. The remaining mirrors fogged up and cracked.
"What the hell is happening?" Holly asked quietly, her voice trembling.
I did not know. But I took the opportunity to reload a fresh grenade into Abomination's underslung launcher. My fingers fumbled clumsily, suddenly nerve-deadened by the cold. I shivered, and my teeth began to clatter together. A horrible feeling of dread traveled down my spine.
"Who's that?" Trip asked. His tone betrayed his fear.
I looked up in time to see a second figure appear on the veranda. This one was a gaunt man, with greasily slicked back hair, and a narrow hatchet face. He was wearing a full-length trench coat. His bearing was ramrod straight, his movements were unnaturally sharp and crisp. The tall man paused beside the scorched vampire. He stood at parade rest. It was the lead vampire from my dream. Lord Machado's lieutenant. Susan's blackened form bowed before him. He placed one gloved hand on her head.
"You have failed me, Susan. I am most displeased." His voice was deep and had a precise German or Austrian accent.
I could still feel the Old Man's presence in the ballroom. The ghost surged with anger toward the new intruder.
"Forgive me, Jaeger," she rasped. Her vocal cords had been burned seconds before, and she could barely speak. "I didn't kill them. But I have learned of the Place. My husband told me."
"Excellent." He patted Susan on the head, scattering ashes from her skull. Then he turned his attention on us. "You are in luck that I do not have an invitation. Be warned. Do not trifle in our affairs. Or it will be your death." The Master vampire looked upwards as he heard something. The perimeter alarm sounded. Helicopter blades beat in the distance. Company was on the way.
He glared at me in particular. "If it isn't Byreika and his oafish friend." I could feel the hate emanating from the Old Man toward the vampire. It was almost a physical thing. "You are out of your league, Juden. I am surprised at your resourcefulness. None of the others that have been used have been able to come back to this world. You ever surprise me, but in the end, you are nothing."
We will see, Nazi bastard son of bitch.
The hatchet-faced vampire smiled, showing us his razor teeth. "You amuse me, Old Man. Your kind always has. . . . Come, Susan. We have much work to do." He faded into the darkness and was gone. The temperature slowly began to climb to normal levels.
Susan Shackleford was whole once again. She brushed back her hair, knocking the remaining ashes free. The beautiful vampire was savagely angry.
"You will be mine again, honey. Just you wait."
"Don't call me honey. You're not really my mom."
"Whatever you have to tell yourself to keep the nightmares away, honey. I love you." She slowly backed into the shadows, fading away until only her eyes were visible. She blinked and they too were gone into the night.
Chapter 20
I knelt at Ray Shackleford's side. He had been savagely bitten and torn open. I pressed my hands against his neck to try to staunch the flow of blood, but it just kept pouring out.
"I'm sorry," he rasped.
"Just relax. You're going to be okay," I lied. His pulse was very weak. "Gretchen!" I screamed.
"Susan. She took it from my mind. I couldn't stop her." He groaned in pain.
"Dad." Julie fell to her knees, the super-hot flamethrower clattering to the floor next to her.
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." He coughed, and blood bubbled from his lips. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just loved her so much. I couldn't let her go."
"It's okay, Dad," she gasped, grabbing his hands. Tears cut a path down her soot-blackened face.
"I didn't know . . . vampire . . . that's why the spell failed." He was growing weaker. "Forgive me."
"I forgive you," she cried. "I forgive you. Just hang on."
Gretchen appeared. She pushed me aside and pressed a cloth against Ray's savaged throat. She wiped away enough blood to get a good look and then she immediately went to work with a small kit of primitive tools. I backed away, so as not to disturb the healer in her work. Trip and Holly were standing back, watching the veranda, weapons at the ready. The helicopters were louder now.
"We have company," Holly said. "Feds."
"Listen . . . the Place . . . Natchy Bottom."
"Mississippi?" I asked. Milo had warned us briefly about it during our trip to visit the Elves.
"Yes . . . Deep down . . . Hidden . . . Talk to the Wendigo." He closed his eyes. Gretchen looked up at Julie and shook her head slowly. "Julie . . . I love you." His voice was barely audible. "I'm so sorry."
"I love you too, Dad," she whispered. Only minutes before, she had been prepared to kill him, but now at the moment of his incipient death, she had to confront her feelings for her father. My heart ached for her.
The helicopters were overhead. Searchlights stabbed down onto the property as federal agents fast-roped onto the grounds. A loudspeaker boomed as directions were shouted at us. "Drop your weapons. Do not move." An Apache hovered low, beating the air, causing the broken remains of the veranda doors to rock closed. The 30mm chain gun was aimed directly at us.
We had no choice but to comply. I removed Abomination and pushed it away, then unbuckled the pistol belt and set it aside as well. Trip and Holly did as they were told. Julie was still holding her father's hand.
"Julie. Toss your gun." I did not know if the Feds would just blast the whole house, but I didn't want to provoke them. "Hey. Julie. Listen to me." She snapped out of it and angrily slid her pistol away. Black-clad troopers were approaching rapidly, guns leveled at us, flashlights pointing into our eyes.
"What do we do?" Trip asked. Julie did not answer. She just looked sullenly down at her dying father. I did not know what was going through her mind.
"Do what they say."
I had a feeling it was about to get ugly.
The Feds hit the house hard and fast. Windows shattered as flash-bang grenades were thrown in. Doors were smashed open with handheld battering rams or blown off their hinges with shotgun breaching rounds. The Monster Control agents swarmed over us, shouting orders, and forcing us to the ground. I fared a bit better than the last time I had encountered them. The boot placed on my neck was not nearly as heavy as the last one.
"We have an injured man," shouted one of the troopers. "It's Shackleford. Send the medic."
Gretchen howled in pain as one of the Feds booted her aside.
"Hey! She's a doctor!" Trip shouted. He pushed against the Feds that were trying to handcuff him. The first blow landed directly behind his ear, sending him sprawling back to his knees. He was clubbed to the ground in a flurry of rifle butts, and then stomped and kicked into submission. Assholes.
A trooper who must have been a medic dealt with Ray. From my position on the ground I could make eye contact with Julie. She was sobbing, looking at her father's still form, years of pent-up emotion all let free in a horrible moment of violence.
"Building secured," stated one of the troopers. "Opening up the perimeter." The noise level died off as the helicopters banked hard an
d away, covering more area, searching for vampires. I knew that they weren't going to find anything.
"We have another Hunter in the house. He's probably dead or injured," Julie shouted at the Feds, thinking of the missing Grant.
"Lieutenant, medevac Shackleford out of here. Get this one up," ordered a familiar voice. I was pulled up so that I could look into the stern face of Special Agent Myers. His personal attack dog, Agent Franks, stood behind him. Once again Myers was dressed in his cheap suit. The other agents were geared up in all of their body armor. "Pitt, what's going on here?"
"Vampires. They came for Ray," I answered truthfully, as Ray's limp form was carried out on a stretcher to a waiting Blackhawk. He did not look good, and if he was not already dead, I knew that he soon would be. If his injuries didn't kill him, standard operating procedure that I was well familiar with meant the Feds would take care of him.
"Where is the Place? Did you learn about the Place?" Myers shouted at me.
I did not know if I should mention it. I had been mistreated at their hands enough times that I had real doubts about how much I could trust them at all. On the other hand, somebody had to stop the Cursed One, and they were probably better equipped to do it than us.
"Talk," he ordered. "This is serious business."
"I know, Myers. Damn it. It's in . . ."
"Owen. Don't tell them!" Julie shouted. One of the troopers kicked her in the ribs. She cried out in pain.
"Stop that!" I shouted. Franks brushed past Myers and slugged me in the side of the face. It was brutally hard. My head snapped back on my neck, and I was only kept from falling by the Feds that held my arms.
"Tell us where, Mr. Pitt!" Myers shouted. "We're at condition red. None of you have any civil rights at this moment, so we will beat it out of you if necessary. The clock is ticking." Franks punched me in the stomach. My abdominal muscles seized up in agony and I wheezed for air. The man could certainly throw a punch. I swear that he had to beat on sides of beef like Rocky or something to develop a punch like that. I did not know why Julie did not want me to tell them about Natchy Bottom, but if she said not to, I trusted her. I knew this was going to hurt.
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