Bloodliner

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  The fall would have hurt—maybe broken—any other woman who was as old as Mother Nothing looked. Being a vampire, however, Mother Nothing just rolled and bounced back up to her feet.

  Then, she hissed and clawed directly at Stanza.

  I guess the old woman's not so blind, after all.

  Stanza ducked Mother's claws and kicked her in the side, sending her right back down to the floor.

  "Don't get up," said Stanza.

  Mother Nothing started to rise, then hissed and relaxed. "Can you blame me? I can't remember the last time I had fresh-squeezed."

  "Apologize to your great-great grandson," said Stanza.

  Mother Nothing sighed like a petulant child. "Sorry for trying to drink your blood."

  Jonah nodded nervously and backed toward the exit.

  So much for the miracle of meeting my ancestor and not being alone anymore.

  *****

  Chapter 15

  Shakespeare gashed his claws across the face of one of the attacking Bluegiller vampires, sending him spinning out of control. Then, he turned and shouted at James, who had just dispatched an opponent of his own.

  "Break away, James!" said Shakespeare. "We shall hold the enemy here while you in haste bring word of the rabbits' progress. Go now, boy!"

  With a nod, James spun and climbed with giant bat-wings flapping, rising through the cylindrical chasm at the heart of the vampire town of Bluegiller.

  Shakespeare, who was also on the wing, turned back to the battle just in time. Another of the Bluegiller vampires lunged at him, swinging an axe.

  Shakespeare darted clear of the weapon's arc, then leaped back in before the enemy could swing again and kicked the axe from his grip. The enemy shrieked and clawed, but Shakespeare stayed just out of reach. When the enemy made a furious, last-ditch charge, Shakespeare nimbly hopped away and came back down with all claws slashing.

  Screaming all the way, the enemy spiraled down into the depths of the central chasm, leaving behind a contrail of blood.

  And two more vampires leaped from the ledges to replace him. Shakespeare faced them with a snarl and bloody talons at the ready.

  You'll not have our rabbits. You'll not steal our only chance at finding paradise.

  Before the two new fighters could reach Shakespeare, Genghis swept down in his red hawk form and snatched one up in his claws. He dashed the enemy against the rock wall, then soared back around as the enemy plunged into the pit below.

  As Shakespeare engaged the other fighter, he kept one eye on the giant hawk. The Bluegiller brood, who lived their days like bats in this underground compound, knew only how to fight like bats, not birds of prey.

  How many has Genghis killed in the handful of minutes since the battle began? Seven? A dozen?

  With just such terrible swiftness and grace, he and his Mongol horde slaughtered men in their thousands on the grassy steppes of Central Asia.

  Of course, the dead of today would still be flying if not for Mother Nothing's temper and the Bluegiller brood's ignorance. Mother had been so furious when denied a drink of Jonah, she had ordered her brood to kill the outsiders. The brood, not knowing that Stanza, Jonah, and Mavis were leading the way to a hidden paradise, had gone after them in force.

  So now it was up to Shakespeare, Genghis, Thomas, James, and their troops to hold off the hungry brood long enough for the rabbits to escape Bluegiller.

  I never thought this day would come, when I would battle side-by-side with such a devil as Genghis and be glad of his wicked skill for taking life.

  As Shakespeare put the latest fighter down with a flurry of strikes, he wondered if Stanza and the others had made it to the surface. They had gotten a good head start, leaving well before Mother Nothing put out the word to apprehend them.

  It wouldn't hurt if they glimpsed a flash of the onrushing threat. Anything that put the spur to them would be of help, so long as Jonah and Mavis remained unharmed.

  Our hope lies solely in those two reaching the goal together...and without corruption. They must navigate a secret world teeming with vampires, yet not be made vampires themselves along the way.

  "Master!" It was James' voice, calling down from above. "They're almost out! They've made it to the ladder!"

  "Well done, James," said Shakespeare, watching as a new opponent glided toward him. "Go again and hurry back when they've gained the surface and shut the door behind them."

  Without a word, James whirled and flew once more for the upper reaches of the chasm.

  Suddenly, then, something struck Shakespeare from behind, slamming hard between his shoulder blades. The impact stunned him, knocking out his breath and setting stars before his eyes.

  Even as he tried to turn and answer, another blow caught him on the side of the head, blacking him out for an instant. When next he came aware and looked around, someone had an arm across his throat.

  Shakespeare thrashed and bucked in midair, trying to dislodge his sneak attacker. Thanks to his captor's hold, Shakespeare had the use of only one hand, and it wasn't enough to pry loose the arm across his throat. He used his wings as well, flapping them back as hard and far as he could...but he couldn't quite reach whoever had latched onto him.

  This isn't good.

  When Shakespeare's struggles hit a peak, his captor suddenly swung him around. There before him was one of the Bluegiller brood, flapping just enough to stay aloft.

  The new arrival leered and shook something he held in his clawed right hand.

  A wooden stake.

  Before Shakespeare knew what was happening, his captor held him out in front and charged, swooping straight toward the sharp-pointed stake.

  Oh my God.

  As Shakespeare lunged at the stake, the moment stretched out before him. Visions of life bolted past his mind's eye...but visions only of his life as a vampire, as if he had never been anything else.

  He remembered giving himself over to the bite of his Dark Lady muse, who had promised him glory.

  She kept her promise.

  He remembered his wife begging him to transform their dying son, Hamnet, thereby sparing his life.

  But I could not bring myself to do it.

  He remembered the day, long after his "death," when he decided he'd been called a cheap imitator of William Shakespeare for the last time...and resolved to spend his undead existence on dark deeds instead of words.

  All the while hating this heartless mockery of life.

  If I cannot have the paradise I seek, perhaps the sharpened stake will do.

  But Shakespeare did not die.

  Just as he was about to be impaled, hands grabbed him from above, clamping onto his shoulders. They wrenched him up and away from his vampire captor, who continued on ahead and took the stake's sharp point in his chest.

  As the mortally wounded vampire screamed, Shakespeare looked up to see who had saved his own life. He fought to hide his disappointment when he saw his savior's face.

  Thomas.

  "What?" said Thomas. "No 'thank you,' Suckspeare?"

  Shakespeare lashed up a claw, but Thomas let go and leaped away without a scratch, laughing.

  "You owe me now!" said Thomas. "I guess that makes you my bitch."

  Genghis has trained this one well, I'll give him that. As much as Thomas mirrors James in face and form, he echoes Genghis in the darkness of his words and deeds.

  He might not be redeemable at all, though I'd hoped otherwise.

  Just then, James soared down from the upper reaches, pumping both thumbs in the air. "They're out! They all got out and the door is closed!"

  Shakespeare spun and jabbed a finger at Thomas. "You! Go to Mother Nothing!" He pointed at her hole in the wall above. "Find out where she sent them!"

  Thomas leered and licked his lips. "With pleasure!" Then, he rocketed upward, aiming straight for Mother Nothing's nest.

  The little monster has his uses. Let him do the dirty work that must be done.

  Suddenly, Genghis bolted
past, thumping Shakespeare on the back with the edge of his wing. "Giving orders to my page now, are you?" His voice was a screeching mixture of human speech and the cry of a hawk. "Why not tell us all what to do, you bloodless hack?"

  "Good idea," said Shakespeare, and then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Stop fighting!" He turned in a circle, projecting his words to as many in the central chasm as he could. "The intruders have escaped!"

  Shakespeare repeated himself twice with equal authority. The battle died down almost instantly, as if commanded by a director in the wings of the stage.

  I've not forgotten everything I learned in the theater.

  The two sides drifted apart—Bluegiller natives reassembling on one ledge, Shakespeare and Genghis' group on another. The sides glared at each other across the chasm, waiting only for another signal to rejoin the fight.

  Finally, Thomas swooped down from Mother Nothing's nest with a grin on his face. He landed on the ledge in front of Genghis and made it a point to speak directly to him.

  "They're headed for England," said Thomas.

  That got Shakespeare's attention. "Where in England?"

  Thomas didn't answer until Genghis prompted him: "Where exactly, son?"

  "A place called Lyonesse," said Thomas.

  "Lyonesse?" said Shakespeare. "Are you sure?"

  "Are you sure it's Lyonesse, son?" said Genghis.

  Thomas sneered and cracked his knuckles. "I'm sure."

  Shakespeare rubbed his bearded chin and paced the ledge, submerged in thought.

  This adds a new twist to our enterprise.

  "What's the problem, Shakespeare?" said Genghis.

  "If they indeed are heading into Lyonesse, I'll be surprised if they survive it." Shakespeare drew a finger across his throat. "Even I would hesitate to slip unbidden 'cross the secret border."

  Genghis laughed loudly. "You're even more of a chickenshit than I thought!"

  "B-kaw b-kaw b-kaw." Thomas imitated a chicken, clucking and flapping his folded arms.

  "You can stay behind, widdle pussy," said Genghis. "Thomas and I will charge in without you. Will you come with us, James, or are you a pussy, too?"

  James' only answer was a scowl.

  "Mock the danger all you like," said Shakespeare, "yet it won't diminish...and it remains but one concern regarding Lyonesse. The greater peril to our undertaking is the presence of another player, one with force and will enough to steal away our prize."

  "Another player?" said Genghis. "God Himself couldn't come between me and my prize."

  This time, it was Shakespeare's turn to laugh. "Close!" he said. "Your guess is closer than you know."

  *****

  Chapter 16

  Mavis wasn't happy at all. She wished her stool would corkscrew through the truck stop floor and keep going, taking her with it.

  Taking her away from Stanza and Jonah and the vampires and the greasy, bloody burger on the counter in front of her.

  This is not medium well.

  Normally, she would have sent the burger back, but she had a feeling the waiter slash cook would shove it down her throat if she tried. His bulging arms were tattooed with skulls and flames and spiders and swastikas...his eyes seethed with the knifetip glint of rage and danger...and the barbed piercings studding his cheeks and ears and jawline didn't help.

  If Mavis had had to choose between facing him or a vampire, she thought she might choose the vampire.

  Or is he a vampire, too?

  Mavis watched him closely but couldn't tell. He didn't open his mouth much, so she couldn't see fangs. He didn't have wings, but maybe they only sprouted when needed.

  How else can you spot a vampire, unless he goes for your throat?

  The thought made Mavis nervous. As Stanza and Jonah chatted away beside her, she looked around the truck stop restaurant, wondering which of the customers might be vampires.

  Anyone. Anyone might be.

  Mavis shivered and buried her face in her hands.

  I liked my old world better.

  As she sat there like that, Stanza and Jonah's words seeped through her unhappy haze. They were still talking about going to England.

  "What about passports?" said Jonah.

  "My associate has already broken into your apartments," said Stanza, "obtained your passports and some of your clothes and things, and overnighted them to a post office box in Dallas. We'll pick them up on the way to Dallas/Fort Worth airport."

  Mavis frowned.

  Did she just say her associate broke into our apartments and stole our passports?

  "Wait a minute," said Jonah. "Where did you get the money to pay this 'associate'?"

  "Your parents, of course," said Stanza. "It's in the contract under 'travel expenses.'"

  Jonah sighed. "There won't be any money left by the time we're done, will there?"

  "It was a necessary expense," said Stanza. "We couldn't leave the country without a passport, but the vampires would be waiting for you if we went back to get it."

  "I just...geez," said Jonah. "Would it kill you to check with me first?"

  Suddenly, Mavis heard something hit the counter hard, and she lifted her face from her hands. She saw spilled coffee, jarred silverware, and Stanza's fist planted on the Formica countertop.

  Somebody's got a temper.

  "Just so you know," said Stanza, "I'm in charge here, Jonah. My contract says I get paid for keeping you alive...but it doesn't say you're my boss. It doesn't say I have to take your shit.

  "If you don't like it, you're welcome to go solo." Stanza leaned closer, forcing Jonah to lean back into Mavis. "But good luck with the vampires when you're on your own, sweethearts. They've got your scents now."

  With that, Stanza whirled away from them and stormed out of the restaurant.

  Mavis watched her go. After the outburst, she liked Stanza a lot less...and yet, she knew Stanza was right.

  If it's me versus the vampires on my own, I'm screwed.

  That realization made Mavis change her mind about one thing.

  I need to make friends with Jonah.

  Not forever, of course. After all, she hadn't forgiven him and his family for ruining her life.

  I just need to be his friend long enough to survive this nightmare.

  With Jonah as an ally, Mavis would have leverage against Stanza. The fact was, Stanza did have to take Jonah's shit; without him, she wouldn't get paid.

  Jonah might also provide the kind of backup that could keep Mavis alive if they found themselves Stanza-free at some point.

  Now if I can just force myself to be nice to this guy instead of telling him what I really think of him and his family.

  "I think she missed her meds," Mavis said to Jonah.

  Jonah looked surprised, then smiled. "Way too much caffeine."

  "Wow." Mavis blew out her breath. "What a day, huh?"

  "Yeah," said Jonah. "It's tied with yesterday for the weirdest day of my life."

  Mavis chuckled. At least he was easy enough to talk to. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard, after all.

  "How about great-great grandma?" said Mavis. "I expected her to be more into Geritol than blood, y'know?"

  "Better results than Geritol," said Jonah. "Born in 1848, and I'm pretty sure she could take me."

  "What a freakshow." Mavis combed her fingers through her crimped red hair. "Welcome to the dark side. If my parishioners could see me now."

  "The vampire-fighting pastor," said Jonah. "I wonder how they reacted to the mess we left at the church?"

  "They probably think I'm dead," said Mavis. "Or a murderer. Or both. I don't even want to know."

  Jonah sipped his coffee. "I doubt anyone's even missed me. My band and my boss have probably already replaced me."

  "Tomorrow was supposed to be my big debut," said Mavis. "My first service as pastor of Desert Wind Presbyterian."

  "No kidding." Jonah frowned as he stared into his coffee. "Today was my parents' funeral."

&nb
sp; Mavis' mouth fell open. Sudden, searing shock roared through her.

  "What?" she said. "They're...dead?"

  "Three days ago," said Jonah. "They died in a car accident."

  The surprise didn't let up for Mavis...and it was joined by anger. All this time, since joining Jonah and Stanza on the run, she'd imagined Jonah's parents were alive and well. She'd thought she could still tell them to their faces how much pain they'd caused her and how much she hated them for it.

  There was a conversation she'd played out in her mind or in front of a mirror a million times...a conversation in which she finally let them have it for what they'd done to her. Now, she could never have that conversation the way she'd imagined.

  I can't believe they're dead.

  On the heels of her shock and anger, however, Mavis felt something else. It was something she almost hated herself for feeling, because it contradicted and diluted the anger.

  It was sympathy. As much as she'd hated Jonah's parents, she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Jonah.

  I guess I've been in the ministry too long. I'm still a sucker for sob stories.

  "I can't believe I missed the funeral," said Jonah. "I mean, I'm trying to make the best of things, right? After all, Mom and Dad hired Stanza and set up this whole search for my roots thing before they died. But still..." Jonah shook his head. "I feel pretty lousy."

  Instinctively, Mavis reached toward him...then caught herself and pulled back.

  Remember what his family did to you. Still, this is a golden opportunity to win him as an ally.

  I mean an opportunity to minister to someone in need.

  She put her hand on his shoulder.

  "Listen," said Mavis. "The day isn't over yet."

  Turning to the hostile waiter slash cook, Mavis raised her coffee mug. "Can I get this to go?"

  *****

  Outside, Mavis took Jonah to the farthest rear corner of the truck stop parking lot. A few bits of dried-up scrub bobbed in the breeze licking over the sandy soil beyond the tarmac.