Night Bites

by Amber Lynn

  Chapter 21

  Let the killing finally commence

  At full speed, I make it back to Debra's house within a minute. The lights are out, so I am not too hopeful Debra is home. Not worrying about knocking, I barge in. The clove scent is still strong so I follow it into the bedroom.

  Reaching around on the wall, I try to feel for a light switch and finally find one. Flipping it up, I am face-to-face with an empty bed.

  “Crap. We had her earlier. She has probably found a new wolf to take. The questions are who and where they are now,” I say rubbing my hand across my face.

  “She seems to be obsessed with a certain individual. Maybe he will have an idea where to find her,” Sebastian suggests. Thank goodness, the other half of my brain is working tonight.

  “Dante slash Roger, do you know where the sheriff lives? We can check the jail first, but we might have to go looking for him.” The fact that he could be in about twenty homes boinking whichever female caught his eye tonight, is something I am not even going to think about right now.

  “You can just call me Dante, and yes, I know where the sheriff lives. It is actually closer, since it is right next door and the lights were on when we came in here.”

  “Which side?” I ask needing to know before I break into the wrong house.

  “It is the one on the left when you exit this one,” he says to my back as I am off and running again.

  I pound on the sheriff's door and wait. I hear something fall inside, seems like only voices don't carry out, and I hope that means he is on his way. After another thirty seconds with no answer, I have had enough and wave Sebastian forward in hopes he will break down the door.

  “Did you even try the knob?” he asks reaching for it. Well, no, I didn't. It isn't anywhere near dramatic enough for the moment. Why does he have to be logical at a time like this?

  The knob turns easily in his hands and he swings the door open. I can hear three beings breathing inside. Two are somewhat muffled and the third seems agitated. I don't think we are going to have very far to look for Debra.

  Like the two other houses in town that I have been in, there is the open area and a single room. Sadly, the door to that room is currently closed, so I cannot see the action.

  “Debra, I am guessing that is you in there and I really hope the glamour has worn off because seeing you in a literal meat suit, up and walking around, has zero appeal to me right now,” I announce from just inside the door. I move to the side a bit, so I am not lined up with the closed door in case she decides to start shooting or something.

  “Figured it out already, have you? I knew you were going to be trouble the minute Kent brought you over earlier. In case no one has told you, there is something seriously off about you.”

  “Story of my life. Do you mind telling me who the third person in the room with you is? I assume the sheriff is with you, probably gagged.”

  “Oh yes, Kent is with me. Did you know he hasn't spent the night here since I was found and Sheila went missing? He has spent all his free time trying to figure out who the big bad mutilator was. Long nights combing the streets, all four whole streets. Then he would usually fall asleep at his desk.” She seems to have a nice speech planned out, so I am fine letting her just talk. It gives me time to come up with a plan. So far, with the house this tiny and, if memory serves me, no other access points to the room, it looks like the door in front of me is the only option. Would it have killed the “town” to have put bedroom windows in?

  “Can you imagine how surprised he would have been if he came home to find his precious Sheila lying in his bed? I am sure he would be horrified because she is not a pretty sight to see at the moment. The pain she is in must be horrible. She has been stuck here with only me knowing of her location, so her pain medication hasn’t been delivered in a timely fashion.”

  “Yes, we all understand what a sick person you are. How about you just turn yourself over now,” I suggest.

  She laughs, just proving further to my mind that she has lost all touch with reality. I thought my request was totally reasonable. “I see no grounds to do that. I have two hostages in here with me.”

  “You would have a point, if I was a regular person, but I didn't become an expert assassin by giving two rat farts about hostages. I will ask again, won't you come out here and turn yourself over, so I can get on with my day?”

  “Let me think about it. I am going to have to stick with no,” she insists.

  I put my knife away; it isn't going to help me against the closed door. I know Sebastian doesn't carry a gun, so I look to Marcus. He smiles and nods then reaches behind his back to reveal a beautiful Ruger revolver.

  I need to have a few questions answered before I use it, though. I use my hand to make a small circle and then a large one, wanting to know the size of hole I can expect it to make. There is no telling what my guards pack in their ammunition.

  He holds his hands far and wide to let me know this would do some major redecorating. Perfect. That is just what I was looking for.

  Next question. I pinch myself on the top of my hand and for the opposite I close my eyes and drop my head to the side. I stick my tongue out just a little for an extra effect.

  When I open my eyes, he is pinching his hand. Good. The bullet will make a big hole, but isn't packing any silver that would kill anyone in the room.

  “Last chance, Debra,” I yell towards the door while I take my stance.

  “You are going to have to come and get me, crazy bitch,” she hollers back.

  “On my way,” I say pulling the trigger. Just before the bullet hits the door, pieces come flying off it widening the hole. I can see enough daylight through it to see Debra's clothed torso, which for now at least doesn’t look like hamburger, so I fire another shot towards her gut. I don't want to chance hitting the heart. The bullet may disintegrate it before I am done with her.

  “You shot me,” she screams from the other room. I can no longer see her, so I would venture a guess she fell to the floor.

  I smile and hand the gun back over to Marcus. “Thanks,” I tell him taking my knife back out and marching towards the door.

  “Do you guys always just kind of stand back and let her run things?” Dante asks.

  “She is the P.I. and this is her case. I blocked her from meeting you earlier without a shield, but that was a rare moment. Nyx knows how to take care of herself,” Sebastian explains.

  “Must drive you crazy.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Yeah, yeah, whatever. I kick in the already mostly destroyed door to enter the bedroom. Debra is down on the ground, like I expected, whining. Kent is tied to a chair and gagged. I might just keep him like that for a while. It may teach him that he needs to learn to control his boy parts.

  Looking to the bed last, I see another grotesque body and I really wish I could not tell that it was breathing. Sheila looks just like Betty of the freezer did.

  I lean over Debra and smack her face for fun. Hey, I am a woman and it is my prerogative. “Do you still have her skin?” I ask hoping as horrifying as it would be that she says yes.

  “In my freezer,” she whimpers. Good. It should be well preserved. Why she would keep it, I really don’t want to know.

  “Why did you take her and then pretend you were the next victim?” I could just kill her already, but I am inquisitive by nature.

  “Kent. She wasn't going to give up like Betty. She was fighting to live. He was spending so much time with her. He still made his rounds, but it was clear he was starting to change just a bit. He didn’t flirt as much and seemed more reluctant to partake in the activity he loves most in life. I was getting rid of the competition, not paving their way into his heart. I figured since it was working for her, I would get rid of her and take her place.”

  I look over to Kent to make sure he is getting all this. His eyes are closed and he looks to be in physical pain. I still don't feel sorry for him. The only victims here are Betty and Sh
eila.

  “I hope it was worth it. You tortured two women causing one of them to die. To me that warrants a death sentence. It has been a while for me and I am not a member of the Collective's team anymore, so I don't have a special script, but here goes nothing.

  “Debra I don't have a fucking clue what your last name is, I have convicted you of killing another being without provocation and I am here to serve as your executioner. In the name of my sanity and that of the other inhabitants of your little backward town, I remove you from this world to make it a better place for others.”

  I shove her so she is lying flat on her back. With the pain in her gut she doesn’t give much fight, she must have a weak wolf. I take my knife, which is silver, and place it just a bit above her breasts. I slam it down into her chest causing her to convulse. Not done, I drag it down effectively cutting her heart in half.

  She continues to convulse a few more times, but the light is quickly fading from her eyes. Not wanting to be covered in werewolf gunk, I leave the knife and stand back. I decide to go ahead and untie Kent. While I am completing the task, I hear a bit of a splat as the silver has worked its way through her body to leave a mess I am not cleaning up.

  “In a way, I am kind of sorry for your loss, Kent.” I tell him, after I finish untying his hands. The ropes have silver strands threaded through them and have left welts on his wrists.

  “Betty was a good woman and I will miss her. Hopefully, with Sheila's skin we will be able to hasten her healing process,” he says and I can hear the tears in his eyes.

  “We will leave you to it. If you need us for anything, we will be at the saloon. I plan on leaving early tomorrow evening. You can expect my bill sometime. I am not sure how I am going to get it mailed here,” I say.

  “I will leave the amount your website said at the saloon tomorrow. I have a feeling it is going to be a long rest of the night for me. Thanks for coming. We really do need to look into getting a real sheriff for this town. I couldn't even find my missing person and she was in my own house.”

  He has that right, but I don't feel like rubbing it in right now. I grab my knife and wipe it off a little on the carpet before sheathing it. What? The carpet is already way past any hopes of salvation. My entourage quickly vacates the premises and makes a slow trek towards the saloon.

  “So, do days always end this exciting around you?” Dante asks with way too much glee in his voice.

  “I haven't killed anyone in almost a month, so maybe not this exciting. The past week has provided me with a demon stalker and the grand experience of being kidnapped by a demented werewolf. I wouldn't exactly call things boring.”

  “Cool, where do I sign up?”

  “You have to talk to the man with the plan,” I say being vague. I seem to only have one and a half vampire guards at the moment. I don't know if I could trust Dante, any more than Smitty, but that is for someone else to decide. Right now, all I want to do is find Clyde and convince him that sleeping in his deluxe puppy bed is a good idea.

  Chapter 22

  It’s a family affair

  When we get within five feet of the saloon, Clyde comes running out to greet us. I should say, he comes out to greet me, he growls at everyone else, especially the newcomer.

  “You have a Hellhound, too. I would for sure list your life in the exciting column,” Dante says marveling at Clyde, but not getting too close. He might actually have half a brain in that head of his.

  “Dante meet Clyde, Clyde this is Dante, be nice.” If I tell him that enough, maybe one of these times, he will listen. Like the other things I have tried convincing myself when it comes to Clyde, I doubt it will happen.

  “Jonas, Walt, glad to see he left the bar in one piece,” I say making my way through the swinging doors.

  “He was surprisingly well behaved. We may need to take Walt with us to serve as a permanent babysitter,” Jonas suggests.

  If we have a babysitter lined up for Clyde, now all I need is to find one for Phee. I look over to Dante and consider the possibilities. Sure, Phee now has Sam to follow her around like a puppy dog, but I can just see them getting into all sorts of trouble together.

  “Any ideas on why he likes you so much?” I ask turning back to the active conversation. I will leave my evil planning until later.

  “Probably just senses our similar blood. I imagine he is friendly to anyone in your family,” Walt explains knocking me for a loop.

  “Family? I thought you said you were just a friend of my father.”

  “Astonishingly enough, we do keep on friendly terms. I would say we are each other’s closest friend.”

  “Other than friends, what would you classify yourself as?” I don't know a bunch about my family, other than my dad is the current head of it. The Collective doesn’t exactly have the history of the monarchy on their approved reading list.

  “If I had to classify it, as you say, I would go with brothers. I being, the younger, much lesser known, of the two.”

  “That would make you my uncle?” I ask trying to grasp this situation. I look to Jonas for confirmation and he nods.

  “Wait a second. Walt is a werewolf, last I checked. That tends to mean a sibling is a werewolf as well. How are you standing here as a vampire?” Dante asks. His questions and everything else around me currently don’t matter. I keep staring at my supposed uncle.

  He is bigger than my father and I don't see any similarities that jump out. I guess the general complexion is the same. I don't know, maybe if I squint I will see it. I try and it doesn't help.

  “The fact that we look nothing alike has helped keep my existence relatively quiet. I was born the spare and have always been well aware of the fact. If you want, I will show you my mark, but you have to show me yours.”

  “Have you ever wished it was in a more convenient place?” I ask. I might actually have someone who understands my plight.

  “I have never been asked or had to show it and since you are here and alive, I doubt I ever will. You are the new heir and I hear you are pretty resilient.”

  “The bits of this conversation I am piecing together are hurting my brain,” Dante interjects. Can’t someone shut him up? “Not only are you a descendant of a werewolf with vamp fangs, but you are also a Gentry. You really need to show me where to sign up to join your crew. It must be like Freaky Friday every day at your place.”

  “As I said, see the man with the plan.” Doesn't he have somewhere to be? “Since you are family and all, do you happen to know anything about my mother?” I ask Walt. I think it has become the first question I ask anyone that even vaguely has heard of my father. So far, I am batting a big fat zero, but this guy is supposedly family. He should have the dirt. My current mission is over, so he cannot side step my questions now claiming I have other priorities.

  “I take that to mean you have taken care of the skinner already. I am pretty sure I indicated we wouldn’t have any of these conversations until that bit of nastiness was over.”

  “Yeah, yeah. It was Debra. She was faking her injuries. She is dead now. On with your story,” I say trying to hurry him along.

  “I was out of the country on a mission when you had to have been conceived. I do know your father didn't know about you until he infiltrated the Collective. If he would have known, he wouldn't have allowed you to be raised by them.”

  I have heard that same story from Daddy Dearest. I thought wolves tended to be able to sense when their offspring were conceived. I am talking just after the deed is done, lying in bed catching their breaths, ability to sense if the little swimmers hit their target.

  “Did he ever say anything about the woman who gave birth to me?”

  “No. He had a lot of little flings back in those days. Apparently, all except one were with werewolves. I believe he has found out more about her, since he has really started looking recently. From what I have heard, he isn't happy with what he has been able to piece together. He wants to try to explain it to you before he tells any
one else.”

  “I guess I will just have to wait until he comes for his visit,” I say sulking. If Aaron had spent more time with me over the years, he would realize keeping me waiting isn’t a healthy life choice. It doesn’t help when I wander upon people like Walt, and potentially Jonas, that I think should be able to give me information and I get nothing from them.

  “It is for the best. I know Jonas was joking about the babysitter thing, but I am really thinking about coming with you guys when you leave. It will give me an opportunity to teach you more about the wolf side of your roots and tell you all kinds of embarrassing stories about your father.”

  That cheers me up a little. “I would like that. There won't be any issues with Alex, will there?” I turn to ask Jonas.

  “No. They haven't officially met, but they will get along fine. Having more people around that we can trust in the months leading up to your birthday is a good idea,” Jonas insists.

  “Am I going to turn into the sparkly unicorn you always used to tease me about?”

  “Maybe. It is unsure exactly what will happen, but we do expect something.”

  “I was joking,” I say not expecting that as his reply.

  “I was not,” he says with an evil grin.

  “I am already a werewolf, vampire, magical elf or something, hybrid. What more could happen to me?”

  “Just like your vampire and werewolf sides came online, your something else line is supposed to rear its ugly head,” he explains.

  “But the other two components were activated by bonding with those species. I don't have room in my life to bond with anyone else.” Now I am whining. This is all my stupid mom's fault.

  “I don't think this will be like the other times. Aaron just thinks it is something that will happen. Whatever your mom is, he seems to think her kind doesn't have mates,” Walt explains.

  That is a bit of a relief. With my luck, a new mate would have been even worse than the great annoying one, Alex. It would probably be some Kent wannabe that couldn’t keep his little brain in his pants.