by Hall, Ian
Then he brought in a skeleton, with a sack of jello suspended inside, and we began practice once more, crossing our Bãtrane inside the organ again and again.
On the skeleton, the ribs were numbered in large black letters, and when Ivan called out a number, we’d hit the heart above that particular rib.
When dinner got called, I felt more relieved for the rest than the nourishment.
Valérie Lidowitz, January 1959, Miami, Florida
Georgie joined us in our last days of training. He watched as Ivan re-capped every topic we’d covered, then one by one we were sent from the house, with orders to infiltrate. Finch took it all with a youthful excitement, I accepted the challenges, knowing that I’d soon finish training, and mother would be notified.
Finch went first.
“You’ll infiltrate the house, go to room 21 on the first floor, and take the letter from the bed.”
Once she’d ran outside, Ivan positioned me at the open front door, Georgie stood on the stairs, and Ivan stayed in the room.
We practiced the heck out of that too.
Three days of busting into our own house.
Our targets would be certain rooms, envelopes in safes, we’d have to place a handkerchief in someone’s pocket, steal a document, or kill a dummy. Each exercise made sense, but Finch seemed to have a lot more actual fun with the process than I did. I’m afraid my cynical side kicked in and by the end of the third day, I’d had enough of being an invisible assassin.
On the fourth day of exercises, Ivan presented Finch and I with a black leather roll, tied with sinew. “These are your own Căluşari Rolls,” he said as we untied the bundles, eager to see what lay inside.
Each roll had many pouches inside, two of which held a fine pair of Bãtrane daggers. Both Finch and I made mewing noises over these.
“Spanish steel,” Ivan said, “made especially for a smaller frame. There’s a little more weight in the handles than normal, we thought they’d suit.”
“They’re stunning,” I said, and Finch agreed.
The rest of the pockets held smaller knives, and a selection of hardwood Aşchie. I smelled the heavy oils of bubinga and blackwood, bloodwood and ebony.
We were given tight fitting black suits with tight elastic hoods.
As I pulled the thin almost stretchy material, I realized our training was heading quickly to a close. As we slipped on the outfits, and smoothed our hair behind the hood’s elastic, Ivan opened each Căluşari roll and tied it tightly around our waist. To my surprise, it made a perfect holster arrangement with our Bãtranes at each side, the smaller knives at the front, and easy access to Aşchies to finish the job. Ivan again flipped a coin. “Valerie will go first.”
“Figures,”
“The target will be sleeping in bedroom 25, on the second floor.
“You will strike him dead at noon precisely.” Ivan said. “Same procedure as before; you are to be seen by no one. Apart from Finch, Georgie and myself, the house will be deserted. We will be armed, and will strike at anything that we consider a movement.” He looked at me, his eyes staring into mine. “Be careful, this is where the training becomes dangerous.”
I walked away in silence, keeping my breathing in check. Outside, I trotted past the first hedge, and ducked. I crouched down behind some bushes, and glanced at my watch: 11:50. I had ten minutes to figure out my strategy, get inside past all the guards to find and kill the subject.
I shimmered invisible, then circled round the house; the blurry vision proved more difficult to cope with outdoors, with anything apart from the house completely out of focus. Apart from the open patio door, where Georgie was messing around with chairs, they seemed to have left no other easy ingress.
On the verandah side from the south, keeping up wind to a certain degree, I cautiously approached Georgie, who sat smoking, looking out to sea. A slim sword lay across his lap. The door behind Georgie lay ajar, and I held my breath as I passed him by and neared it. A thin, almost invisible wire had been fastened to the door handle, and I ducked under, slinking inside.
I flattened myself against the wall to get my bearings.
Seeing no barrier I began to climb the stairs. Finch stood at the top, on the carpet of the second floor, swinging her Bãtranes in practiced arcs. I would have to pass right under her nose. Steeling myself, I shimmied upwards, back sliding against the wall, keeping my eyes on her every second. I held my breath as I passed, no further than four feet from the tips of the undulating swords.
The corridor lay empty, and I quickly moved to the correct door. Number twenty-five. I tried the door, but found it locked.
I looked at my watch; five minutes to twelve.
There was no way I could remain invisible and pick the lock, the two jobs were incompatible, so I crouched down and got to work. A few moments later, the tumblers softly clicked into place. I disappeared again, pushing the door before me as if it had blown open in the wind, I waited for a moment, then moved inside.
Through the fuzzy vision I could see the bed, and the dummy on his back, covers pushed downward to its groin. I looked around for Ivan, instinctively crouching low, and none too quickly. Above my head I heard the soft sound of blades cutting the air; Ivan had shimmered himself, making it harder for me.
I tried to place the sweeping blades, then realized that I had not looked at my watch outside. How could I strike at noon precisely, when I didn’t know what time it was?
Ducking low, I crossed to the bed, away from the sound of the blades. Putting my hand low to the floor, I carefully tried to un-vibrate just my hand, so I could see my watch. It seemed to take ages to get my wrist under control, but suddenly, the watch appeared in front of me.
One minute before noon.
I shook my hand again and flipped out an Aşchie, putting it between my teeth. Bloodwood, I tasted, how appropriate! I silently drew my Bãtranes and rose slowly, towering over my target. I chose my points of attack carefully, one just below the shoulder, one near the base of the ribcage.
Lifting my body upwards onto tiptoes for impetus, I struck downwards. To my eternal satisfaction I felt the blades collide inside. I quickly took the Aşchie from my mouth and slipped it down the top blade, pushing hard with my thumb, rapidly finishing the job, and sped from the room with my Bãtranes in my hands as Ivan began to shout an alarm.
I stood outside by Georgie before he’d completed his sentence.
Afterwards, we analyzed every facet of the exercise and I was given top marks for my first attempt.
Finch had to try it next, and to her credit, passed me with ease. Once familiar with the idea, we both were given more missions, always with a single target, every one more complex than the last.
Then Finch and I were assigned a joint mission.
Apart from the additional pressure of timing, it felt much better to have a partner; we’d shimmer together, whispering to each other as we whisked through the house. When possible, we held hands to avoid bumping into each other. I felt so exhilarated in my new partnership, it was sometimes difficult to concentrate on the mission. When not joined together, we adopted a strategy of me always going to the left, Finch moving to the right, and it worked well, I couldn’t imagine the panic if we bumped into each other.
We were given double targets, then three and four. All of which we completed to the satisfaction of our instructors. Considering the frequency of the missions, and the short time we had to plan them, I thought we’d done incredibly well.
As evening approached and after we’d debriefed our last quadruple kills, Georgie announced that dinner would be at his restaurant at eight o’clock. It had been the first time we’d been at the restaurant since training began. It felt like a Rubicon.
I sighed with pleasure at the news; we had two hours to relax, shower, and slip into something other than stretchy black uniforms for the first time in so many days.
“Bring your Căluşari Rolls,” Georgie said as he left the room. “You might need them.”<
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Finch and I exchanged a glance, her expression as grave as my own. The intense feeling of relief had gone.
“Do you think we’ve finished our training?” Finch folded her arms as she watched Georgie and Ivan drive away.
“It looks like it, dearie.” I returned to the table in the debriefing room and collected my equipment, folding them into the leather Căluşari Roll.
The shower now held little pleasure, just a calm acceptance that we’d been trained as killers, and somehow this path held the way to see mother again.
Nothing else mattered.
The Mission
Theresa Scholes, February 1959, Miami, Florida
Considering the intensity of our training, dinner turned out to be a light hearted affair. Conversation flitted from Typhoon Vera hitting Japan, to the pictures of the moon taken by the Russian space probe, Luna 2. In our absence from the real world, top Miami newspapers told of strikes and unrest from the Cuban contingent; Castro had flexed his muscles. It all seemed such a long way from the training we’d been given.
When the meal came to a close, Ivan said his goodbyes and left quietly, leaving us with Georgie to give us details of the first mission. He led us upstairs to a small room, where he opened a bottle of plum brandy, pouring the dark liquid into three small glasses.
With no toast given, I sipped my drink slowly, letting the liquid drive its heat down my throat. Georgie lifted a brown envelope from a briefcase at his side, and sat it casually on the table.
“Raul Ramirez is not a vampire,” he began, “but he’s a relatively large cheese in the Cuban community in Orlando. He’s involved in all kinds of crime, drug running, extortion, and probably much more. You’ll find addresses, house plans, photographs in here.” He tapped the envelope. “He’ll be travelling back to Cuba in early March, for some big Hoo-Ha over there, so you’ve got no time to hang around.” He looked at us both in turn. “This is a major bad guy. He’ll be surrounded by some of the most ruthless gangsters in the country. Don’t treat this lightly, this one is not an easy introduction, but Ivan thinks you’re ready for it, and that’s enough for me.”
“Do we study it now or later?” Valérie asked, picking up the envelope.
“Do it later, take your time, get it right, but don’t hang about.”
“Any special instructions on the method of death?”
Georgie smiled. “Căluşari is good for me.”
It was my turn, “Do we just kill him? Or do you care if there are other casualties?”
“My main concern is taking down Ramirez, and you two getting out alive. Anything else is a bonus.”
I sat in silence as Georgie left, giving each of us a kiss on the forehead. “By the way, no vampire signs on this one, okay? This is just a simple execution.”
Valérie and I nodded solemnly.
“Do we open it here?” she asked.
“Let’s get back to the spa.” I nodded, “I like the privacy, the building is completely ours right now.”
She sipped the last of her drink, and we left.
The facts in the envelope were quite comprehensive; name and address, some photos, a plan of the house, and a map of the area.
After passing the papers back and forth for an hour, we decided to head up to Orlando the next day and take a closer look.
Since being turned, I never seemed to sleep much, maybe an hour or two a night, and today proved no exception. At three in the morning, with the dark skies cloud-filled, I decided I needed some fresh air. A run on the beach sounded like a good idea, and I quietly dressed in dark t shirt and shorts. Of course, the beach lay deserted, not a soul for miles, and I became quite exhilarated as I ran, thinking of the mission ahead. As I returned to the spa, however, I immediately detected that something was wrong.
Two new parked cars sat on the corner, given the quiet neighborhood, they instantly looked suspicious. I crossed to one, their Pennsylvania plates increased my feeling of dread. I placed my hand on the hood. Still hot. Damn.
I tried the door, finding it unlocked, and stuck my head inside, getting the final clue; stale cigarette smoke and vampire musk.
I took off like a shot towards the house, then shimmered as I got through the gate. On the south side, behind a low wall in the garden crouched two men, a large long box lay between them. Their attention lay completely on the contents. Since I probably smelled ripe with recent sweat, I decided not to approach, and gave them a wide berth, trying to find a way into the house.
On the east side, I met another two men, hunched over similar boxes rummaging inside silently.
“Oh, great,” I hissed under my breath, I could only think of one thing: Amos Blanche had found us. As fast as I could, I raced up the open fire escape on the north side of the house. Once inside, I flashed to Valérie’s bed.
“Valérie?” I shook her arm and she opened her eyes, instantly awake. “There’s vampires outside, all round the house.”
“Is it another exercise?” she jumped out of bed and grabbed her Căluşari roll and her black outfit.
“I doubt it.” I shook my head. “Their cars have Pennsylvania plates. Meet me on the road, by the south corner.” She nodded and I dashed to my room, grabbed my own gear and sped outside. A few seconds later, I stood on the corner, dressed in black, my Căluşari roll pulled tight around my waist.
Valérie had already shed her nightdress and was putting on her black, stretchy trousers. “Any idea how many?” she asked.
“I counted four,” I replied, “there’s two cars.”
“But there could be more,” she tied her equipment roll with a sharp tug. Even in the dark, I could see the excited grin on her face. “Let’s go!”
I jumped the fence to enter the garden when all hell broke loose.
Rockets from all four sides simultaneously launched at the house, their blue and yellow trails lit up the night, then, entering by first and second floor windows, the house completely erupted.
Illuminated by the explosions, I saw two teams of two men, standing on the manicured lawn. “Probably eight!” I shouted over the din, hoping that Valérie could hear me.
“Four each!” I heard behind me, Valérie’s voice pierced the deafening inferno.
Running invisible, I met my first victim still standing behind a low wall, rocket launcher on his shoulder, admiring the scene in front of him. His partner was picking up a second projectile from the box behind them.
I slipped below the bazooka weapon and thrust my Bãtranes between the guy’s ribs, both front and back. As my blades bit deep inside, I felt the blades slide together in his heart. A perfect kill. He stood upright for a second before slumping to the ground.
Close enough to touch him, I caught his musky smell. Vampire. The man next to him acted no quicker than his friend. I twisted on his neck, and ripped his head from his body. Blood exploded into my face, but I felt far too in control to let my urge to feed come to the surface.
I retrieved my blades from the first corpse and set off for the next pair.
Suddenly knocked onto my back on the mown lawn, a figure crouched nearby, his arms flailing in the air, looking around in vain for the object of his unlucky collision. Even through the unfocused mist of invisibility, he looked dark and somewhat handsome. “Shame,” I got up, stepped forward and drove my blades in from both sides, hoping one would pierce his heart. When the handles hit his side, I twisted the blades, and he grunted in pain. I slammed the heel of my hand up into his chin, if I hadn’t already found his heart, I’d probably broken his neck with that single blow.
I pushed his carcass away, not watching it fall to the ground, and turned to the house: directly in front stood a fourth vampire with a gun, aiming in my direction. He’d obviously seen his friend die, and looked around in vain for the culprit. I moved quickly to one side as he rapidly started to fire, wild, directionless rounds aimed towards my previous position. I circled behind him to the left, leaving him quickly missing by quite a margin. Invisible to the
world, I grabbed him by the arm and threw him at a low garden wall. He hit head first and slumped to the grass.
Suddenly Valérie appeared at my side, looking around for me. “Four vampires dead!” she enthused. “Well, one can answer questions later, the other three are dust.”
I shimmered visible, buoyed both by her enthusiasm and the fact that we’d both survived, a testament to our recent training. “I’ve got two with broken necks that’ll be able to talk tomorrow.” I looked up at the blazing house, now completely in flames, long plumes of yellow from every window. “All those dresses,” I mourned.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Valérie replied, “we’ll buy more.”
It wasn’t until we’d started to round up the bodies that I realized we’d never given a thought to running away.
Valérie Lidowitz, January 1959, Miami, Florida
I shimmered invisible, and with a surge of exhilaration, I ran into the garden. As I neared one of the pairs of men, clad in suits and fedora hats, Finch’s call broke through my deep meditation. “Probably eight!”
My body thrilled to the challenge, “Four each,” I called over my shoulder.
I met the first vampire, his head in the box, lifting another rocket to the launcher.
What will they think of next, I thought as I snatched the large projectile from him. As it began to disappear into my already invisible hands, he looked at in astonishment as I lifted it above his head.
His cranium made a satisfying sound as it caved under the swing, the projectile smashing half of his head to a pulp. I’d never killed a vampire before by crushing his skull, but as he fell to the ground, I doubted if he’d ever wake up.
“Reload, Tommy!” The second stood with his back to me, obviously waiting on his partner loading the weapon, he had the bazooka thingy already aimed low at the first floor.
