Last Cull (Third Shift Book 2)

by D. S. Ritter

  Sam would have done a spit take if she hadn’t finished her whiskey. “What?”

  “You got balls,” he said. “I like that. Plus, you don’t think we know about what happened last year? You’d be good, working for us.

  “You could help me with my little project. Bringing my old world coven into the modern age? I mean, guys like Bartholomew don’t know the internet is a thing, let alone how to use it. I’m tired of him running my shit, you know? I’m ready to run my shit, right?”

  Sam smiled, though it was the last thing she felt like doing. “I’m sorry, but--”

  “You don’t think there’d be opportunities in it for you?” Roscoe stretched as though this conversation were boring him. “We get massive perks around here. Massive benefits. You don’t like power? You don’t want money?”

  “What I want is peace and quiet,” said Sam, surprised at her own guts. “What I want is go to work without finding people unconscious or bleeding out in my parking lot. In my city.”

  “In my city,” he said, trying to stare her down.

  “And this is how your bosses want it? You rolling into town and openly causing trouble? Letting us *regular people notice?”

  “The bosses don’t--” started one of his boys.

  “Shut up,” snapped Roscoe, fixing his lackey with a death stare. When the upstart had settled down, his attention shifted back. “It’s my business what the bosses want or don’t want. Don’t you worry about that.

  “But, what about your friends? Do you think they really stand a chance? If I wanted them dead, it would be easy enough to arrange. I mean, hell, they came with you tonight, didn’t they? The weakest of us here could handle them.”

  Sam felt John’s hand on her shoulder and hoped he meant to assure her. “One second this is a job offer, then it’s an ultimatum. You guys must really be scared of me, huh?”

  Roscoe frowned. “I’m not scared of shit, and you’re on thin ice. Join us, or it’s going to get ugly.”

  Feeling another squeeze of her shoulder, she sighed. “Then, I guess it’s going to get ugly.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  She watched the vampire’s expression turn from annoyance to confusion as she whipped the can of Spray and Pray out of her purse, pulled the pin and let loose. The holy water flew before any of them understood what was happening and doused his sleeve as he held up an arm to shield his face. His lackeys jumped out of the way, abandoning their leader, but she turned the stream on them with devastating effects. They screeched and screamed while their flesh bubbled and smoked. There was a massive flash, like in the tunnels below the mortuary, and everything seemed to freeze. The vampires’ faces were all caught in a horrified flinch, their expressions moving incredibly slowly. It was like reality was being played through at a frame every few seconds.

  Come on, let’s go,” said John, heading toward the door. “I think we know everything we need now...”

  What is that thing?” asked Sam, grabbing her purse and going after him.

  Magical flash-bang. It’ll stall them for a minute, but not forever.”

  As they raced down the stairs, Sam noticed the rest of the club was in slow motion, including Franklin and Heather. She spotted Yolanda and Jesus near the bathrooms, but they weren’t moving normally either. “What about them?” she asked.

  John shook his head. “I couldn’t shield them. Too far away.”

  Sam stopped in her tracks. “We’re not going without them.”

  They’ll be fine,” said John, reaching for her arm.

  No, John, they won’t. Roscoe knows about them.” She wrenched her arm away. “If you want to save your own ass, go ahead, but I’m staying.”

  He sputtered for a second, looking angry, then sad. “I tried to give you an out. You see that, right?”

  Sam sighed. “Look, if you’re going to go, just go.”

  He turned, about to leave, but hesitated for a moment, reaching into his jacket. “Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he said, handing her a bandoleer of stakes, another canister of Spray and Pray and a knife made of silver. Sam looked at these things and looked at him. His worry showed, but apparently those feelings didn’t matter. He shrugged. “I’m really not hero material, that’s all. Good luck.”

  Juggling this new arsenal, Sam tried to collect herself and think of something to say to him, but it was too late; he was already cutting though the thawing crowd, making a beeline for the doors. He didn’t look back.

  Sam stood there, a lump in her throat. The people around her were speeding up. Franklin and Heather grew aware of her and then came back to normal within seconds.

  “You’re going to need these,” she said, handing Franklin the stakes. She gave Heather the Spray and Pray. “Just point and shoot. We need to get to Jesus and Yolanda and then get the hell out of here, like now.”

  The effects of the flash bang seemed to wear off based on proximity. Those furthest away were already back to normal. Sam suspected they had another fifteen to thirty seconds before the VIP room was back in full swing. She fought her way across the dance floor, keeping the silver knife concealed as best she could. Yolanda and Jesus still stood next to the bathroom, oblivious to the loss of time.

  “Hey guys,” said Jesus, “we heading out?”

  “Yeah,” said Sam, “we need to get out right now.”

  “That’s gonna be tough. Looks like security’s not happy,” said Yolanda, nodded at the doors where several large men in shades had bunched together and were watching the dance floor. Sam couldn’t tell if they were living or dead, but either way, she did not want to mess with those dudes.

  “This is going to be a bloodbath,” she said, looking around. The ravers were partying on, unaware of the carnage about to descend.

  “I got an idea,” said Heather, eyeing the hall to the restrooms. “Try to stick together.”

  Sam watched as she walked up to the little red fire alarm and looked around. “I’ve always wanted to do this...” She flipped the switch, and a shrill alarm sounded, cutting through the bass. The entire crowd slowed, with many of them looking around, confused. Then, the movement toward the door started.

  When the first wave of the crowd met with resistance from security, panic started. Those trying to get out pushed and pressed up against the huge security guards, who pushed back, a mistake. The fear of fire had taken hold of the crowd. Sam and her friends got dragged along as it surged, overtaking any obstacles, including people, like a swarm of ants.

  In the chaos, Sam found herself separated from the group. She climbed over a booth to avoid being trampled and looked for another exit, but there was none. At least the others will get away, she thought. Her stomach turned to ice as the VIP room emptied and black-clad vampires rushed toward her.

  The vampire saliva was working because she actually saw them coming. She moved her arm, the silver knife clutched in her hand so tight her knuckles went white. One vampire, the one with the trucker cap, screeched and clutched at his throat, a dry slash turning scarlet. She felt another behind her and plunged the blade into his chest.

  She sliced and cut, sometimes only air, sometimes vampire flesh. While she was clumsy, she was unpredictable and much faster than they’d expected. But she wasn’t invincible. Pain seared across her back as one of their claws ripped into her skin.

  “Mother fucker,” she seethed, turning and slashing the one responsible, cutting his arm down to the bone. Warm wetness told her the wound was bleeding, which seemed to encourage them. And, despite the chemical boost, they were still faster than she was. It wasn’t a losing battle yet, but her muscles already screamed. She needed help.

  “Out of the way, you blood sucking fucks!” The battle cry echoed over the crowd, along with the hiss of smoking, steaming vampire skin. Sam spotted Heather, spraying down anyone in range with the pressurized holy water. Franklin was there too, plunging stakes into vampires within arm's reach, using his height and strength to wonderful advantage.

 
; Sam continued to hack and slash at the monsters around her as best she could. Any vampire that had eaten oozed like a squashed jelly sandwich.

  A skylight exploded, showering humans and vampires alike with dirty shards of plate glass. And then things really got insane.

  Through this broken skylight flew more vampires, some dressed in out of date, dark clothing, others wearing skinny jeans and other more modern fashions. Alissa and Bartholomew descended into the chaos like vengeful gods. Combat shifted to something that was almost faster than the eye could pick up. If Sam hadn’t been on saliva, she’d have been blind to the action going on around her. Luckily, she was, and these new vampires presented more of a threat than she did. Using this distraction, she slipped away and rejoined her friends who still fended for themselves.

  “This is one hell of a party,” said Franklin, slamming a stake into the chest of another vampire, who exploded into a shower of ash. “You ready to go?”

  “We need to find Roscoe,” said Sam, slashing a monster coming up on Heather. “The head guy, we need to make sure he gets taken out, or this isn’t going to end.”

  “I watched a slick-looking guy go out that way,” said Franklin, pointing to a half-hidden exit down the hall to the restrooms.

  Sam headed that way, cutting a path for her two friends to follow her. The exit lead to a back parking lot, hemmed in by scrawny, put-upon pines and lit by a single bent, flickering street light. There was a lot of underbrush around the lot, but Sam could see where the vampire had broken it, creating a trail. Two figures she recognized as Jesus and Yolanda already headed over to investigate. “Hold up,” she said, running up.

  “We saw one of them get away,” said Jesus. “We were gonna go back in, but we heard the racket back here and saw him.”

  “He ran out of there like a bat outta hell,” said Yolanda. She and Jesus had both fashioned crude stakes out of broken branches and Sam could barely believe they’d go into the cover with just those meager weapons.

  “Okay,” said Sam, “let’s go, but be careful. He’s gonna be pissed.”

  Together, the group ran after the lone vampire, into the darkness beyond the pale circle of light cast by the broken lamp.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The area behind the club wasn’t exactly deep woods, though the trees obscured a lot of the industrial area around them, and blocked most of the light from the road. The ground was uneven with shallow roots and troughs in the dirt, hindering their progress, but they heard someone crashing through the scraggly brush ahead of them. It seemed the holy water was still doing its work because there was an almost steady stream of screeches and curses in that direction.

  Sam followed these noises, juiced on adrenaline and saliva, both ready and terrified to fight. She felt so angry. Who was this guy to throw a wrench into her life? This shit was not fun, and she was tired, and not looking forward to coming down off the chemical cocktail pulsing through her veins. Why the hell couldn’t she be left alone to live a normal life?

  They broke into a clearing in a little dip, not a hundred yards away from the highway. Roscoe made his way to the edge, stumbling and clutching his face. He was moving fast, but not fast enough.

  Sam took the silver knife, its blade slick with secondhand blood, and whipped it at the fleeing vampire. Later, she would swear she could never replicate that throw. The blade flew end over end, twirling through the air before it embedded in the vampire’s back, practically up to the hilt.

  Clawing at his back, Roscoe couldn’t reach it and fell to his knees as blood seeped out of him like molasses.

  “I wanted to change things,” he grasped, leaning over. “I just wanted to drag the coven into this new century. Kicking and screaming into…. But you came and fucked it all up...”

  “You came into my city and used people like juice boxes,” said Sam, her anger at a quiet simmer. “I’d say you came and fucked it all up. Where are your ultimatums now? Where are your promises?”

  “Just kill me,” moaned the vampire, his tears, blood red streaks down his face. “Just kill me before the others do…”

  Sam took a step forward, trying to see his face. He seemed sincere, but she didn’t think she had that kind of mercy in her anymore. “Why should I do that for you?”

  “KILL ME!” he screamed.

  Sam took a step back and pulled the knife out. “No,” she whispered.

  It didn’t make her happy, having the better of him. She wanted the trouble to be over. She wanted the responsibility out of her hands. She was so tired. Blood dripped down her own back, soaking her black dress and trickling down her leg. She wanted it all to be over.

  “Sam, finish him!” said Franklin, stepping forward.

  Sam shook her head. “Bartholomew, are you here?”

  A blurred figure appeared out of nowhere, his movement only denoted by the disturbed leaves on the ground. “Ah, found the culprit, have we?”

  “Yes,” said Sam, fatigue making itself known in her voice. “I thought you guys might want to deal with him.”

  Bartholomew nodded and whistled, a loud, piercing noise that cut through the sound of distant traffic and the soft creaking of the pine branches. Three more vampires appeared. They looked upon their fallen brother with utter disdain and disgust and picked him up off of the ground. As they did this, the little clearing filled with shadows. More vampires, both of their coven and the local group were gathering.

  The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stood on end as she felt them moving around, stirring the air. Jesus, Yolanda, Heather and Franklin crowded together, staring at the group amassing around them. It was like being in the middle of a school of sharks.

  The vampires whispered to each other, staring at Roscoe, whose face was a portrait of utter despair. And then, everything went quiet. A final vampire appeared, and a hush fell over the gathering. He was tall and slim, dressed in a well-tailored suit that might have been in style half a century before. Now, it still looked sharp, but in an odd, retro kind of way. The skin of his face was smooth as marble and just as pale, with two dark eyes set in it like dark jewels. His nose was prominent and pointed, his mouth, severe. The deference from the crowd was almost palpable as he strode toward the prisoner. Sam shivered as this new vampire caressed Roscoe’s face with his immaculate, razor-sharp fingernails and frowned.

  “I think you must already know how disappointed I am, my child,” he said with a deep, steady voice, like stone.

  “I just wanted…” began Roscoe, his strength deserting him in the presence of his master.

  The revered vampire hushed him gently. “Yours is not our way. Yours is one which will endanger our kind. You dream of domination, but I have been on this earth for hundreds of years. I have seen movements like these before, and they always end in tragedy.” He sighed, like a father who must teach his son a harsh lesson. This will hurt me more than it hurts you, he seemed to say. “I must nip this in the bud, I’m afraid.”

  His voice grew harsher as he raised its volume. “I find you guilty of breaking our laws and customs and of flaunting our rules of secrecy. For this, the penalty is dismemberment and death.”

  The humans present gasped and stepped back as the vampires moved in, with grim expressions. Sam couldn’t see what was happening within the crowd, but she could hear Roscoe’s painful screams as they picked him apart. She clung to her friends. They stood in a clump, ten feet away from the violence, tangled in each other's limbs and cowering like worms in a jar.

  “What are they going to do to us?” Heather whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “I don’t know,” whispered Sam, trying not to look over. She’d never wanted to be at home in bed so bad.

  After a few moments, the screaming stopped. When Sam peeked outside their little huddle, she found the clearing empty. The only evidence anything had happened at all were the broken branches and a bit of blood soaking into the dirt beneath the pines. “I think we’re okay,” she said, slowly straightening up. “They’
re gone.”

  Franklin visibly shuddered. “That’s it? They’re done? It’s done?”

  She nodded, her adrenaline putting her on edge, despite her desire to calm down. Sam couldn’t detect any vampires hiding out in the trees. Given their speed, they might have been a mile away. “It’s done.”

  “Fuck,” sighed Yolanda, who slouched like she was deflating. “Screw this vampire shit, Westly Snipes can keep it.”

  “For real,” said Jesus, leaning on her.

  ***

  Kim and Carter, true to their word, had stayed in their car. They got out when they saw everyone else heading into the deserted parking lot. The vampires had disappeared and their human guests gone elsewhere for their thrills and chills. Matt remained though, sitting in his Honda Fitt, drinking what looked like an off-brand energy drink. All three got out when they saw Sam and the others come out from the woods.

  “Oh my God,” said Kim, “what happened?”

  “All hell broke loose,” said Sam. She felt like she wanted to sleep for a million years, not answer questions. And she was noticing her back laceration, which was starting to hurt pretty bad.

  “John told us to call in the vampires,” said Carter, “then he disappeared. I figured he‘d headed back to you guys.”

  “Vampires?” Matt looked dubious, but interested.

  “I didn’t see him,” said Sam. “Things got crazy.”

  “But, it’s over?” asked Kim, peering at her bloodstained, shredded tights.

  “We think so,” said Jesus, remembering to put down his sharpened stick. “Pretty sure all those bloodsuckers went home.”

  “After they pulled that guy apart like a roast chicken at a Sunday dinner,” said Yolanda. Carter and Kim made faces of disgust.

  “You guys are really talking about vampires?” asked Matt, hovering at the fringe of the conversation..

  Sam sighed. “Yeah, but it’s all over. Let’s go home.”