The Devil's Gunman

by Philip S Bolger

“I’d say so,” Lucas said, pausing to drink some of the blood. When he did, his eyes glowed red for a second, before returning to a pale green. “And you’re Nick Soren, my way to get ahead with our mutual liege lord.”

  “That route’s closed,” I replied, keeping a firm grip on my rifle.

  “Looks like it,” he said, putting down the bowl and examining his nails. “You didn’t take my emissary’s offer, and you seem to be a bit upset. So, let’s parley.”

  “No parley,” I said. “You burned my house to the ground. You killed Josiah’s family. You tried to turn Collette into one of your shitty little clones.”

  “No,” he said. “My boys would never turn a woman.”

  He locked eyes with me. He wasn’t trying to charm me, he was trying to insult me. An image flashed through my mind of a bound Collette being ravaged by man-bat hybrids.

  “You sick fuck,” I growled.

  “You’re one to talk?” he asked, standing up. “Who do you think threw those parties and hunt nights you used to attend, Nicholas? Who do you think sits on the board of every bank in this town?”

  My past life of debauchery wasn’t something I was ashamed of. Shallow people do shallow things, but it was worrying he knew. My wife and I were experts in discretion.

  “Please,” I said. “I knew every banker worth a damn. None of them were vampires.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “Just thralls. But they were ours. I know quite a bit about you, Nicholas J. Soren. I know about your recent trips to Texas.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and my hair stood on end.

  “My what?”

  “Don’t be coy!” Skov said, standing up. “The Hellhounds told me. You’re conspiring to overthrow the Patron and replace him with that hick, Vinter! You’ve killed Patricia and Natasha. You’re in revolt. You’ve risen up and betrayed your oath. When I bring you to heel, the Patron will give me a promotion, and this data will help me get it.”

  He held up a USB, which had a skull-shaped cap.

  If the Hellhounds knew, the Patron knew. I was, for the first time since entering the club, starting to get frightened, but it’d be a cold day in Hell before I let this vest-clad, heroin-chic douchebag know that.

  “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” I said calmly. “You play at courtly intrigue, some HBO special kinda shit, but we both know you’re really a mediocre murderer and a petty thug. You’re no different than any of the gangers up on the North Side. No, fuck that. You’re not even on their level. You’re just another predator. That worked out well for you for a while, when prey was plentiful and you were the apex, but now you’ve run into a bigger predator, and I’m going to enforce my spot on the food chain.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Skov replied, his threat a monotone that didn’t hide the flickering fear in his eyes.

  “Your whole coven tried,” I said. “It didn’t work out too well.”

  The fear in his eyes faded. Only anger remained.

  “I’ll rebuild,” he said, his voice suddenly echoing. “I’ll have more. You will have nothing. You’ll wish you’d taken me up on my offer to parley.”

  “Nick,” Lotus’ voice broke in. “The police are breaching. You need to find a way out.”

  “This has all been great,” I said, “but I’m out of time.”

  I raised the VHS and aimed it squarely at his forehead. His entire form seemed to be shimmering, preparing for something, and energy coursed through the air. I heard shouted commands from below and the sound of booted feet heading up the stairs. I suddenly changed my mind. I lowered the rifle.

  The vampire charged me, snarling, as I shoved the rifle into the bag of holding. He fell on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

  I felt his breath on the back of my neck as he pressed my face into the clean, crimson carpet.

  “Odd time to surrender, Nicholas,” he breathed into my ear. “But I’ll take it.”

  I could hear Lotus saying something into the earbuds, but in the struggle, they’d fallen out of my ears. I had to act quickly.

  I had to use a lot of strength, but I threw him off, bucking and kicking wildly. I’m amazed it worked. I must’ve caught him off-guard. The vampire stumbled backward, assumed an athletic stance and prepared to strike again as I stood up. I don’t know why he waited. Maybe it was some sense of honor or maybe he was readying a spell, but he did, and as he hesitated, I threw my glasses and ball cap on the ground, and raised my hands. Skov looked confused and surprised, and he slowly stood up straight, a triumphant grin on his face. I rapidly snatched the USB off the table, then hit the floor and put my hands behind my head. He look confused when I dropped down.

  Just then, someone kicked the door in, and a flashbang landed about a half foot away from me. I turned my back to it and felt the burn as it cooked off, and the SWAT team entered.

  I screamed as loudly as I could, “He’s got a gun, he’s crazy!”

  I couldn’t really hear myself, though, because my eardrums had been damn-near shattered by the flashbang. All I could hear was a dreadful, high-pitched ringing.

  It didn’t seem to matter. I don’t think the SWAT team was listening to me. I rolled over and saw that the vampire had, unwisely taken a swipe at the point man. I heard a beautiful, but muffled, chorus of gunfire and saw the vampire struck down. I did my best to appear shocked, then I stuck the USB in the bag and palmed a smoke grenade. There was no way I was going downtown. A bit of concealment would go a long way.

  “Sir, you okay?” one of the masked figures asked. My hearing was returning to normal.

  I nodded slightly.

  “I need to go; I have to find my wife!” I said, sobbing.

  “Stay calm, and we’ll get you to safety.”

  At that moment, Skov sat back up, cursing humanity as his pale skin reformed over dead flesh, and his mouth twisted in a horrific snarl. One of the SWAT guys shouted, and the four cops shot again, filling the small room with a typhoon of coordinated gunfire and coating the floor with hot brass. That many rounds together had the same impact as my M240. There wasn’t enough left for him to get back up, and when he turned to dust, the SWAT guys seemed surprised. One of them, though, was on his game, and hustled me out of the room.

  “Man, what the fuck was that?” I asked the SWAT guy. He didn’t say anything, and I could see fear in his eyes through his protective gear. He hustled me downstairs, through the ruined barcade, over the corpses of the human security personnel, and through the ashes of many vampires. We cleared the front door, and I felt the coolness of the night’s breeze close in on me. The scene outside had become a circus. The cordon was being continuously reinforced as emergency service vehicles, sirens wailing, pulled up. The night was painted by the strobing red and blue of police cruisers and ambulances, and a SWAT armored car blocked the intersection. I noticed, though, that they hadn’t yet covered the one exit I needed.

  A couple of the uniformed cops managing the perimeter rushed over, and I heard one of them talking about a cut on my face. I hadn’t realized I was bleeding, until I reached up and felt the sticky wetness of fresh blood. I remembered my smoke grenade and slipped it into my pocket. They were supposed to search me, if they were following procedure, but I somehow expected that between the suspect that turned to dust when they shot him and the one who fell out of the second story window, the cops were a bit overwhelmed by weirdness. That worked for me.

  “One coming out!” the cop said as the SWAT guy handed me off. “He’s injured; let’s get a medic over here.”

  I’d shed my jacket and lost my hat and glasses. I had my backpack, but apparently, nobody had fixated on that. I heard radios crackling, describing the ongoing search for the suspect. As I approached the cordon, a guy in a suit with a badge came to take my name, before passing me off to a paramedic. I told him I was Arthur Treacher, and he seemed to buy it. Luckily the paramedic hustled me into the back of a waiting ambulance before my bluff was called.

  I heard the usua
l paramedic platitudes about how I was gonna be fine but needed to go to the hospital to get checked out. But I wasn’t going to the hospital.

  As they put me on a gurney, I pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and discreetly dropped it, letting it roll. The red smoke billowed out, quickly massing, and I heard the paramedics coughing as they tried to make sense of what had just happened. Cops closed in, handguns ready, but they were unable to see through the thick, red cloud.

  I leaped off the gurney and fled the cordon, clutching Josiah’s bag closely as I ran. I could hear the patrol officers in pursuit, their feet smacking against the concrete, but that was okay. I turned the corner, leaving the smoke cloud, and ran down the alley, into the open van. Amalfi was driving. I closed it, and she drove off, slowly, blending into traffic. Out the back window, I saw two MPD officers run into the open, looking for me.

  Lotus, in the passenger’s seat, closed her laptop.

  “Well,” she said. “That didn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d hoped. But it was beautiful watching the glasses transmit those cops blowing Lucas into little bits.”

  For a few breaths, the three of us reflected on that. The attacks would stop. Maybe I’d have a bit of peace.

  “What now?” I asked. I hoped I was going to hear about a trip to a great restaurant and some cold drinks, but I knew better.

  “Now we rest,” said Lotus.

  “No,” Amalfi disagreed. “This mission was an excellent test of Nick’s skills. We know he has what we need. Now, we kill the Patron. The Duke of the Midwest must die.”

  Lotus drew a sharp breath. “The Patron is the Duke of the Midwest? Your former boss? Are you still determined to try to kill him? You stand no chance of completing such an insane task.”

  “We kill the Patron,” Amalfi repeated. “That’s what Nicholas agreed to. He will honor that oath.”

  Lotus turned to look at me, her face twisted in shock. “Have you lost your mind? I’ll repeat it to make sure you heard me: You stand no chance.”

  “That’s a recurring theme,” I said.

  “I’m serious,” Lotus said. “This isn’t something that can be mitigated with some techno music and an accuracy rune. You stand no chance. He is a duke of Hell!”

  “We’ve defeated his minions,” Amalfi said with confidence. “The Hellhounds Trish and Tash died at our hands. Skov and his coven have been annihilated. We are ready.”

  “Pfft,” said Lotus. “You think you, a Chimera, can take on a duke of Hell? He can grant magical compacts, and you think you can claw his head off?”

  “I’ve got the St. Joseph Rifle,” I said. “Vinter thought that would work.”

  Amalfi took us onto the highway and into St. Paul as the argument continued.

  “Your magic gun won’t work,” said Lotus. “You fucking fool. You’re a mortal. She’s a monster. You’re both apprentices in the magical arts. You have absolutely no idea what you’re fucking around with and no idea of the depths of power you’re casually dismissing.”

  “What does magic have to do with this?” I asked, irritated that a vampire would tell me I knew nothing about the Patron.

  “Magic is the energy greater beings use for their power,” she lectured, as if she was explaining what green looked like. “Demons and devils have much more than most. They’re capable of great feats of sorcery, things you and I would dream impossible. Their age gives them time to train, which gives them more power. The one you call the Patron is one of the strongest beings in Hell, and you think you can kill him with a holy rifle because it kills vampires? Are you nuts?”

  It had always seemed crazy to me. I guess my reluctance showed. Amalfi intervened on my behalf.

  “Lotus,” she said. “I do know magic. I am quite—”

  “You’re a parlor-room huckster!” Lotus spat. “You can shapeshift because you were granted that power. You assume that, because you were granted control over machines, you’re some kind of powerful magician? What spells can you cast other than the blood magic equivalent of Craigslist? The magic you know, not what was granted by some long-dead god, is nothing more than child’s play.”

  Lotus gestured excitedly as she continued, “That devil, the Patron of all of us in the underworld, is unbelievably strong. He can cast any number of spells and imbue magic in others. He can create vampires and demons, and he draws on a nearly endless reservoir of magical energy. Every time someone interacts with his domain, he gets stronger. Do you not understand how much of the world is run by bureaucracy?”

  Fear clouded my mind as I remembered all the people I’d been sent to kill, all the terrible fates I’d watched the Patron dole out. Lotus sounded, to me, like the most rational person in the vehicle.

  “You don’t have to join us,” Amalfi said, her eyes glittering with doubt.

  “It’s not that,” Lotus said quietly. “You…Never mind.”

  “We’re not going to continue the rest of this getaway in silence,” I chided.

  “You guys are my friends,” Lotus said, softly. “And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  I was touched but a bit baffled. The ancient vampiress seemed sincere. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and dripped down her ancient face.

  “Please,” she begged. “Reconsider.”

  “We might,” I said, ignoring the harsh look from Amalfi.

  “We will not,” insisted Amalfi. “Mr. Vinter is trying to save the world. Eliminating the Patron will be a noble act.”

  “I’m not sold on that,” I said. “The hipsters had some data. I’m not sure what it was, but Skov was comfortable menacing me with it.”

  I pulled the USB out of my pocket and handed it to Lotus, who immediately inserted it into her laptop. She started scanning the data, and eventually found something that must’ve been shocking. She put her hand up to her chest and breathed deeply.

  “Amalfi,” she said, “pull over. You’re going to want to see this.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifteen: Revelations

  We were clustered around the TV in the safe house. While we were on our mission, Josiah made a tater tot hot dish, along with a chocolaty version of Chex Mix he called “Puppy Chow.” I was lying on the couch, Collette next to me, holding a compress on the head wound she’d stitched up. Thankfully, it was just a scratch, and I liked her doting on me; the illusion of intimacy comforted me. Josiah sat next to me, clad in a black button-down shirt and black slacks, his mourning period for his family ongoing. His middle-age features were worn, and his holy brand, the one that prevented him from raising a gun, glowed softly in the mid-morning sun. Lotus sat in her wheelchair, her Herculean blonde thralls at her side. She was dressed in casual modern attire, jeans and a t-shirt promoting a trading card game. Her arms didn’t look as green-tinged as usual, and I suppose that was her being confident or using a glamour to cover it up. It was hard to tell with magical types.

  Then there was Amalfi. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, snacking on the hot dish sitting on the coffee table. She was clad in casual clothing—an unusual look for the Chimera—but she was relaxing.

  The entire safe house smelled delightfully of freshly-cooked potatoes, and it felt comfortable, like the way my grandparents’ place did when I was a kid. But there was something poisonous in the air. Maybe it was anxiety or apprehension. Maybe it was distrust.

  Lotus motioned for Collette to leave, and the doctor got up and walked into the next room. I guess Lotus didn’t want to expose her to any more supernatural weirdness than she’d already experienced. Without a further word, the jiangshi pressed play on her computer and security camera footage of Vinter and his wife, chatting amicably in their mansion’s kitchen, appeared. Mimi’s form was a bit distorted—those of magical creatures usually were on video—but still recognizable. The date and time on the video were from the day I’d visited, shortly after Amalfi had taken me to the airport.

  “You think he’ll do it?” Mimi asked.

  “’Course he
will,” Vinter drawled. “I just hope it works. He swallowed all that shit about being the only other one who survived and how that makes him special. That’ll keep him from thinking about it, though I get the impression he don’t think too much anyway. He’ll keep dancin’ to our tune.”

  “Soon the Duchy of the Midwest, and by extension, the Duchy of Hammurabi will be yours,” Mimi said, her voice practically dripping with lust. “That’s a stepping stone, my sweet. The Archdukes respect the Hammurabi. My ex-husband was lazy. But you have enough ambition that you’ll go far, my love. I know this title will carry you straight to the infernal throne.”

  “Heh,” said Vinter. “Jerry Vinter, God of Evil. I like the sound of that. You’re right, though, this is the first step. Couldn’t have done it without you, my sweet. The decision to loan him Amalfi is what’s going to make this happen. If he does somehow figure things out, she’ll stay the course, and he’ll follow her. He’s a cowardly fuck. He never tried to stand up to the Patron. Amalfi ain’t as strong, but she’s the same kinda threat to him. She’ll never waiver, either, dumb fuckin’ animal. Hell, she’d probably disembowel herself, if we commanded her to.”

  “Amalfi is a loyal tool,” agreed Mimi. “I suppose it’s good her gods created her with a limited ability to think for herself. Does she know?”

  “No,” said Vinter. “I’ll wait until she asks, and we both know she won’t. It’s not her style. I’m sure Nick’s gonna run into something coming back. A retiring assassin always leaves a power vacuum. Not sure who’s even up in Minnesota. Seems kinda like bumfuck territory, outside of the Patron’s inexplicable love for that shit-stain part of the country. I gotta guess there’s some kinda supernatural presence there, though. Vamps? Trolls? Minor demons? Doesn’t matter. Nick won’t go back and be happy sorting papers, and as he tries this mission, he’ll need help fending off the locals. Presto! We’ll give him a Chimera. He’ll think it means we support him, and she’ll enjoy the excuse to get off her ass and do some killin’. If she witnesses his attempt on the Patron, that’s part of the pact fulfilled. If she dies, I’ll convince him to carry her blood with him when he tries.”