Olivia

by Genevieve McCluer

  “Tonight, when I came home from our date, Harvey was closed in his cage. I knew I’d left it open, but I wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He said Moor. I didn’t realize what he meant at first until he said Othello. I’ve never said it around him, and I haven’t watched any of the movies or seen the play since the 1800s. The only way he could’ve known it was if Bianca or Iago was in my home. I don’t know which of them it was. I desperately hope that it was Bianca. If she was lying, if she’s just trying to hurt me, he could still have died in the Hunt. He could really be gone. I let myself believe it for so long. It has to be true. I need it to be true.” My chest heaving with my sobs, I throw my head into my hands, bawling as quietly as I can. It’s too much. I can’t take it. I can’t go through this again. I won’t be his again.

  “I’m here,” Mia says softly, slowly patting my shoulder. Being touched is terrifying, but feeling alone is worse.

  I grab her hand, harder than I mean to. Holding it as gently as I can in my lap, I lace my fingers between hers. “I’m sorry to drag you into this.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to. And besides, they’re both vampires. They can’t break in here. Right?”

  “He has his ways.” I look up, blinking away tears. “Don’t let anyone into your house. Even if you know them, don’t let them inside. He could have been planning this for years. You don’t know what he’s like.”

  “How could he have possibly known we’d end up together?” Her eyes widen when she realizes what she said. “I mean, dating.”

  “Together doesn’t sound too bad right now. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Well, ask me when you’ve had time to think about it, and I’ll say yes.”

  That’s reasonable. I’m the one who normally wouldn’t jump into things. I shouldn’t be doing it now. I can’t stop thinking things through. That will only let me fall back into his clutches. I have to be cautious. I have to think.

  “What if Bianca isn’t working for him? What if she was telling the truth?” she asks.

  “There’s not a truthful bone in her body. You don’t know the things she did to me, the things she did for him.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, but Iago was pretty damn manipulative. He made you do some things you didn’t want to do. You don’t think he could’ve done the same to her?”

  I want to be comforted and believed, not questioned, but I can’t ignore the potential truth in her words. She was weak-willed, spineless, and a coward, but then again, I was too. “Maybe.”

  “What if he’s found her too?”

  Damn it. I just wanted to feel safe, to maybe collapse in this beautiful woman’s arms and pretend that a mass murdering psychopath with a hard-on for me isn’t trying to hunt me down and either kill me or make me his slave again. “She can fend for herself,” I try.

  “Look, I don’t care either way about her. From the sound of it, she deserves whatever she gets, but I have trouble believing that the insanely devout Catholic girl I’m dating would feel the same way.”

  “She deserves it.”

  “Ollie—”

  “She does. But so do I. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to help her. We’re all sinners.”

  With a pained smirk, she looks up at me, wiping away tears from her own eyes. “‘We’?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask, as we pile into my car. I’m not even certain myself. There’s no way Bianca isn’t working for him.

  “I’m not letting you go alone, not after everything you just told me.”

  “Why? Because I’ll freeze up if I see him?”

  “Maybe. You’ll need someone to shake you out of it if that happens.”

  I stop at a light. There are no cars anywhere else on the road. What would possibly trigger the light changing? “I still think it may have been her setting me up. She could’ve broken in and taught Harvey those words.” It is still weird that he said them that quickly. I suppose I’ve never tried using my persuasive abilities on him. I wonder if they work on parrots.

  “And if she did, what’s the chance that Iago isn’t far behind?” In my peripheral vision, I see her reach for the pills in her jacket pocket but think better of it, instead resting her elbow on the armrest and leaning against her hand. I wonder if she’s holding it in place to stop from grabbing the pills.

  “You’re right. She’s either working for him or she was telling the truth.” Which means we’re walking into a trap. “Even if I don’t have a panic attack when we see them, if they want to hurt you, I don’t think I can stop both of them.” It takes me a moment to realize that the light has finally changed, but I slam my foot on the accelerator and make it through before it turns red again.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Mia—”

  “I think by now, I’ve been far from subtle about my feelings for you. You’re not talking me out of this. I’m going with you. You need someone to watch your back. You’re trying to take on a centuries-old psychopath who’s hell-bent on torturing you.”

  “I’m not trying to take him on.” That sounds like a terrible plan. “I need to know if Bianca is working for him. Either she’s alive, and I’ll torture her for information—”

  “You’ll what?” She turns, looking more shocked than outraged.

  “I’m not sitting by while Iago does whatever he wants. I’m sick of letting him ruin my life. I will take back control. Maybe then I can finally have a good night’s sleep.”

  “If that’s all you’re after, I think I could help with that.”

  That is really not helping with my righteous anger. I’d rather not think of all the various ways I could spend the night with her. I need to focus. “While I’m sure that would help me sleep, it would make no difference for the dreams. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “I meant oxycodone.”

  “Oh.” I try to focus on the road, shedding the images that the misunderstanding had given me and doing my best to ignore the thoughts that have been haunting me since I first got home.

  “I mean, I’d be up for your idea too.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you armed?”

  “I forgot my monster slaying gear at home. You don’t have a gun in your glove compartment or anything? What kind of shell-shocked soldier are you?”

  “Mia,” I grumble. “Could you not?”

  “Sorry.”

  “She was staying at the Community Center. We can grab weapons there.”

  “Sounds fun. I love shopping with you.”

  “Well, this time we’ll actually pay.” I pull into a spot in the empty parking lot. She lives so close by. I hadn’t actually realized. I guess it makes her commute easy, since the vet is only a few blocks farther. “Come on.” Before I can go to open her door, she climbs out, and we head inside.

  Everything looks as it should. It’s a little past three a.m., and the place is still crowded. I can’t tell if Bianca or Iago have been, as there’re too many scents. What I wouldn’t give for a good bloodhound.

  “How about that one?” Mia asks, pointing toward a stand stocking an archaic collection of weapons. Guns aren’t too helpful against vampires anyway, though a bullet always hurts.

  “Yeah, that looks fine.”

  “Evening, Olivia,” the fext who owns the shop says. It always seems so strange when any other creature that could pass as a human runs a business here, but I suppose we are more likely to buy medieval weaponry than humans. It takes me a moment to recall his name. We hadn’t even exchanged words since the center moved to the Honeydale Mall. I don’t shop for weapons often. I’m surprised he remembers me.

  “Good evening, Vitaly.” We do have a strange concept of time, don’t we? Shouldn’t it be afternoon? It’s only three. “I need something sharp.”

  He gestures toward his display. “I’ll advise your human friend not to try them on me, but everything I have is battle-tested
and ready. I’ve sharpened them all myself and can certify their quality from personal experience.”

  Being immortal is always so convenient when it doesn’t come with a host of psychological trauma. “You don’t need to tell me.” Mia groans. “I still have the scar from when I had to operate on one of you and no one had bothered to tell me that.”

  “Sorry,” he mutters. “That would be my cousin, Natalia. I heard about that story. Any way I could make it up to you?”

  “Free weapons?”

  “How about twenty percent off?”

  She lifts up her shirt, showing off a surgical scar on her abdomen. “Thirty sounds fair.”

  “You drive a hard bargain. What kind of weaponry are you looking for?”

  I have to say it, don’t I? I’ve literally become my worst nightmare. “We’re hunting a vampire,” I admit through clenched teeth, doing my best not to see the crowd of fiends as the oncoming horde of hunters back in England. “I’m assuming you don’t have stakes, so maybe some axes.” It’s been centuries since I’ve had to behead anyone.

  “Do try to keep the infighting outside.” He holds up one ax and a claymore. “The ax is weighted perfectly for beheading, but I’d recommend this claymore for you. It’ll do the job.”

  “How about a cavalry saber?” If I’m to be getting into a fight, I’d rather it be with something with which I’m trained. It’s not like he’ll stand there while I lop his head off.

  “That’d be doable.” He sets the claymore back down and runs his fingers over a few more of his weapons, turning to the table to his left. “Ah, this should be perfect.”

  He hands the blade over. It’s very top heavy. The head seems to be made of a thicker material than the rest, maybe folded. It’s off from what I used in the army, but it’s manageable. I give it a few practice swings in the air. “Yeah, I can handle this.”

  “Have any machetes?” Mia asks. “I can’t use an ax, but from everything I’ve read about executions, they’re not the most efficient way to do it.”

  “Fine,” he grumbles. She’s right. The ax would require him to be at the right angle. I’m too used to having super strength and speed. A machete is terrible for a fight, but for cutting someone’s head off, if it’s made well enough and sharp enough, that’d be about perfect. “Carbon steel, folded, and sharpened within an inch of its life. It should cut through bones like butter. It’s just boring looking.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “I’m not interested in looking like a badass warrior. I’m interested in making sure that we both make it out of this alive. It’s like dissecting a frog but faster, and this time, I’m cutting the spine intentionally.”

  “If you say so,” he says. “It’ll be four…right, three hundred.”

  I pay the man before Mia has the chance to. This is my vendetta, and I’m already uncomfortable with letting her join me, so I’m certainly not going to let her pay for it. We grab some belts from a nearby stand, as we were not prepared for this day at all, but when we’re done there, I lead the way to the stairwell, my hand on the cavalry saber’s hilt. I can do this. I can face him.

  She doesn’t say a word as we ascend. I wonder if she’s ever been in a fight before. She seems the type, but it’s hard to say for sure.

  When we reach the second floor, it’s already plainly clear that something’s wrong. I knew I smelled blood. The whole place reeks of it. It’s not human. I hold out my hand, signaling for Mia to wait.

  She glares at me.

  I don’t want to say anything out loud. They doubtless heard our footsteps, but on the off chance they were dumb enough to miss them, I’d rather not make my presence obvious. However, my sign language is very rusty, and I don’t think she knows it. “I smell blood, lots of it,” I whisper.

  “Oh.” She swallows, and I hear her heart rate pick up.

  “You can stay here if you want.”

  “Do you know how hard it is to find a cute girl I actually get along with? I’m not giving up on you that easily.”

  I nod. In truth, I was hoping she’d come. I don’t want to face Iago alone, no matter how selfish it may be. I just hope I don’t get her killed. It sounds like exactly what he’d do: let me start to develop feelings for another person, then have me cause their death all over again. No. Not this time. I won’t let it happen.

  Sword in hand, I push open the door to the second floor. The smell is overwhelming. Blood, viscera, feces, all mixed together and coming from—

  No, not the hostel. It’s coming from the chapel. We walk on, and I chance a look in the hostel as we pass. There’re trails of blood leading away from it, but there are no bodies. There are barely even signs of a struggle. I suppose two vampires, each five hundred years old, are rather difficult to overcome. In comparison to us, a newly turned vampire is scarcely more than a human, and it makes me even more scared of Iago. I don’t know how old he actually is.

  I can hear bile building in Mia’s throat, but she swallows it, her eyes narrowing in determination as she clutches the machete. I pull her hands farther away from her and tap her knees, trying to get her to bend them. It takes her a moment, but she follows my lead and only looks indignant for a second. What am I doing dragging an untrained human into a fight with monsters? I’m such a coward.

  Leading the way, I approach the chapel. Elizabeth said that there were no actual religious items or symbols in it, so it shouldn’t stop me from entering, but I’m scared to try. I hold my hand out, trying to will it to touch the door. I can do this. I need to find out.

  Mia steps in front of me and pulls the door open. She promptly has to swallow her vomit again.

  My eyes widen, and I almost drop my saber. I’d expected a trap, not a tableau. The bodies of half a dozen fiends decorate the space, all crucified. He’s mocking me. On the altar, the lights all set to perfectly illuminate her, lies the contorted form of Bianca. She was telling the truth. I let this happen to her.

  Mia takes a few steps away and hurls. I collapse to my knees, tears falling from my eyes. I hated her. I still do. But this is my fault. He was sending me a message. That sick bastard did all of this to get to me. And he killed my only lead.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amelia: The Crime Scene

  I try to focus. I may not be finished vomiting, but it can wait. This is ridiculous. I’m used to cadavers, even if they tend to be a bit less humanoid. Besides, we were coming here to kill Bianca. I should’ve expected to see a dead body either way. This just means I don’t have to get my hands dirty. I tuck the machete in the leather sheath slung around my waist, turning my attention to Olivia. She seems to be taking this even worse than I am. “Ollie?” I ask. “How you doing, honey?” Wow, I’m already acting like we’re together. That’s a great sign. Though she is too. Something bad happened to her, and she ran right to me, then my manic ass jumped to help her get some murderous vengeance. Sounds like my last relationship.

  After a quick glance around the macabre scene, I kneel beside her, taking her hand. “Come on, Ollie, it’s okay, I’m here.” Okay, an immortal psychopath is taunting us and waiting to do who knows what. I grip her shoulders and give her a light shake, but it has no effect. Well, I guess I ought to take a look while I’m waiting, not like there’s a fiend medical examiner or anything.

  Trying with all my might to keep what’s left in my stomach on the inside, I take a quick peek at the bodies. The food stays in my belly. I risk looking longer. The bodies are horrid, gruesome, grotesque, and about a billion other unpleasant descriptors, but they’re not turning my stomach, so I elect to take a closer look.

  They’ve all been dead—or maybe deader—for at least a day. I’ve had tragically few chances to examine the bodies of fiends for rates of decomposition, but none of these are at all fresh. In addition to Bianca, there’s a young centaur, maybe sixteen, his rear end severed to make the crucifixion possible; a grindylow, her long green hair stuck to her neck, red and matted with blood; a goblin who may have been
as old as Olivia, if not more; a redcap, his hat newly dyed; and…I have to squint, as at first, the sixth cross seems to be bare. Then I see the blood. It may be an ashray, but it could be any of a number of translucent creatures, and I don’t believe ashrays can survive out of the water. I can only make out its form from the spots where the dried blood clings to it, but upon closer inspection, it seems to be a boy.

  I glance over my shoulders constantly as I examine the bodies, but Iago—Christ, that’s weird to say, like I’m being hunted by a parrot—doesn’t leap out from behind a corner, and Ollie doesn’t stir. They all have exactly the same injuries, save for the centaur. Their throats were slit with a blade, not fangs, and most of their blood seems to still be here, though it’s tough to judge. I’m not sure if vampires can eat other fiends, so that doesn’t tell me much. I’ll have to ask Olivia when she’s more coherent.

  Other than that, there’s not a lot I can tell. Whoever did this was strong, but that doesn’t say much, and they could touch crosses, which says a lot. Either Iago has help, or Ollie is gonna be pissed. I’m sure she’d rather have whatever other weaknesses he has than not be able to go to church, though maybe that’s the point.

  Okay, these bodies are making me uncomfortable. “Ollie!” I shout, trying to drag her back to reality. “Can we find someplace better to go catatonic? I’ll even join you.”

  “Huh?” she asks, her eyes still locked somewhere miles away.

  “Ollie—”

  “Mia?” She shakes her head, clearly still stuck wherever she was. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” It’s only been around an hour. That’s not worrying at all. “Is there anyone we should report this to? There aren’t fiend police, are there?” I’d like to think I know everything after helping the community for three years, but who knows what they might not tell a human?