by HP Mallory
“The Irish are congregating under O’Banion and have already taken control of all the breweries in the North Side, which means they’ll soon have a monopoly. And Torrio has officially allied himself with the Gennas in Little Italy, which means he basically now has control of the city center. That just leaves us,” Meg continued as she paced the room more earnestly, looking as if she were ready to murder someone.
“This could be good for us, baby,” I said after pulling away from Jane’s throat. I glanced back at Meg and smiled. Then my attention was drawn back to Jane who was bouncing up and down on me with delicious regularity. I gripped her waist momentarily and forced her to stop. Then I pulled her down on top of me, much harder. “Back and forth, doll, not up and down,” I instructed her before I buried my fangs deeply into her neck again.
“How could that be good for us?” Meg inquired, throwing her hands up into the air in obvious frustration and annoyance. “What’s better for us is that we continue to do what we’re already doing without the competition!”
I could not argue with her on that subject. With myriad shipments of moonshine and liquor coming from Canada and the multitude of juice joints already under our control, we’d realized huge profits in the one year since Prohibition started.
“We might not have any choice,” Meg whined as she stared at the newspaper below her. “O’Banion has police protection and insulation. And after that banquet he just threw for the politicians and law enforcement officials, their continued support and protection can only increase. That means he’s basically immune to prosecution.”
“Immune?” I asked as I palmed one of Jane’s breasts and she continued grinding her orchid against me, her gasps growing heavier and faster.
“It’s no secret that he intimidates any witnesses and bribes all the city officials,” Meg explained. “And we both know he’s paid off many of the police officers so they won’t arrest his men.”
“We are guilty of doing the same, Meg,” I pointed out as I gripped Jane’s waist and she shuddered with an orgasm. I smiled at her with renewed pleasure as I held her above me and began thrusting my organ of steel up inside her.
“I’m not talking about us!” Meg snapped as she shook her head violently. “With the North and Little Italy under his belt, Torrio’s sure to come for us.” She sighed long and hard before facing me again. “It’s no coincidence that we’ve been raided already four times in just the last week.”
I could not reply as I gripped Jane even more tightly and positioned her above me, pushing myself deep inside her. I was always more comfortable when I was in control. I pumped inside of her a few more times before the power of an orgasm overcame me.
“Bram?” Meg asked, clearly irritated that I was not responding to her last comment.
I did not spare Meg a glance as I unloaded into Jane. After a second or two, I pushed her away and stood up, buttoning my knickers. “Go now and eat a large supper,” I said as soon as my gaze settled on the bites in her neck. “And do not fail to cover your neck.” I reached inside my pocket and handed her a few bills.
“Leave,” Meg commanded her.
Jane nodded and dropped her attention to her disheveled appearance. Wrapping her arms across her chest, she started for the main room.
“What do you expect us to do about O’Banion and Torrio?” I asked Meg as I shook my head.
There was no slack in her jaw. “I want you to send them both a message.”
“A message?” I repeated, my eyebrows furrowing in my forehead.
“Yes,” she insisted. “I want Torrio to know that we are not interested in joining his ranks.”
“What sort of message is that?” I asked as I eyed her narrowly.
“A bloody one,” she answered. “I want you to take out O’Banion.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bram
Chicago, 1922
“The car will drop you off at the rear of O’Banion’s home,” Meg informed me. We were standing in the back room of Anonymous, one week after she first introduced the idea to me. “Your mission is to go in and eliminate him and anyone else you come across as quickly and as silently as possible.”
“And how are you so certain he will be at his home?” I asked, since I was fully aware that mobsters did not keep the same hours as their law-abiding counterparts.
“Because it’s Sunday and my informants assure me he never does business on the Sabbath because that’s his ‘family time,’ as he calls it,” Meg answered with a quick nod. Her eyes were as cold and as hard as steel. Yet she acted as though she were telling me to take out the trash. In a manner of speaking, I suppose I was. “I want you in and out. No lollygagging or putting on a variety show. The car will be waiting for you in the back alley.”
“No putting on a variety show?” I repeated with a shake of my head as I laughed. “Come now, baby, how shall I find any fun in that?”
“I am serious, Bram,” she insisted, her jaw tightening. “This needs to be a swift, silent knock-off with no questions asked. I don’t want anything coming back to us.”
“Coming back to us?” I repeated facetiously. “Of course it will come straight back to us!”
“No, it won’t,” she argued as her eyes narrowed. In general, she did not indulge debates. “The blame will, most likely, fall on our rival gangs or the police themselves.”
“The police?” I repeated. “You know as well as I do that the police are just as crooked and involved in this as we are.”
“Yes, that’s so, but it doesn’t mean the police commissioner wants the public to know that. There’s only so much crime Torrio and O’Banion can get away with before the police have to get involved, even if it’s just to keep up appearances. No one’s finger will ever point directly at us.”
“In and out,” I said with a wide grin. “Easy-peasy.”
###
There were no lamps to illuminate the street in front of O’Banion’s home. It was dark, and the darkness suited me as we were one and the same. I sidled along the back wall of the massive, two-story home, replaying the plan in my head. When I reached the window, I glanced around myself in all directions just to make sure I was indeed quite alone. As far as I could tell, I was. There were no sounds of breathing, or hearts beating, or hot blood rushing through human arteries and veins. At least not for a mile radius. Inside the house might have been another story, but I would not be able to detect any signs of life until I was actually inside. My superhuman vampiric powers of perception could not pervade or penetrate the thickness of a brick wall.
I approached the window and aimed my index finger toward the lowest, outermost point of the glass pane, just below my left hip bone. Centering my fingernail on that point and using my other hand, I slammed my palm into the ball of my other fist. Owing to my veritable strength and the keen sharpness of my nail, the glass pane shattered beneath it almost instantly, smashing shards of glass inward onto the carpet, as well as outward onto the grass. I instantly heard the sound of a dog barking and bemoaned my bad fortune. Meg failed to warn me about a dog.
I reached inside the broken window to unlock the door beside it, wholly unconcerned over the possibility of cutting myself. Almost as soon as any injury is inflicted upon me, my body instantly heals itself, so such trivial incidentals matter very little to me. I unlocked the back door and stepped inside at exactly the same time as the barking dog entered the room, baring his fangs as he growled menacingly at me.
“Come now, my canine friend,” I began in a very soft voice. “There is no need for any unpleasantness,” I explained as I stared him in the eyes, pacifying him instantly with my powers of persuasion.
The dog soon began wagging his tail before sitting down and looking at me eagerly, as though he expected me to throw a ball for him. “There’s a good boy,” I whispered as I patted him on the head and started for the hallway. Using my uncanny night vision, I managed to deduce that the room into which I had intruded appeared to be an empty guest quarters. The h
allway leading into the main house was quite short—and after barely ten steps, I found myself in the living room.
The interior was ostentatiously appointed with gilded furniture, huge marble columns and heavy, brocaded chairs and settees. I paused at the base of the stairwell to listen for the sounds of breathing and heartbeats. I had to discern the precise location where O’Banion would be. From what my super-sensitive hearing could perceive, there were four people in an upstairs bedroom. I could not hear any voices, and the circadian rhythms of their breathing as well as the depressed blood flow led me to believe they were all asleep.
And if any of them are children? I suddenly asked myself. What then? Will you murder them as well?
The thought of killing innocents turned my stomach. Never mind how many lives I had taken during my long centuries on this earth, I had never and would never kill a youngster. Not now, and not ever. In this, my current scenario, I would be silent and swift, simply stealing into O’Banion’s bedroom, breaking his neck as quietly as possible and fleeing the premises soundlessly again. There was no reason to kill anyone else.
I started up the stairwell, secure in the knowledge that my footfalls made no noise whatsoever. I was as quiet and imperceptible as the very night air. When I reached the top of the stairs, I relied on the moonlight to find my way. From the sound of multiple heartbeats, I narrowed my search to the bedroom that was located at the end of the hall.
I continued down the hall, passing two more bedrooms on my way. When I reached the final door, I turned the knob slowly and opened the door wide. I immediately saw the form of a man, who appeared to be sound asleep in his bed. O’Banion, I presumed.
In and out, I reminded myself of Meg’s specifications.
As soon as I lifted one foot over the threshold, I was promptly flooded by bright light. I instinctively brought up my arm in order to shield my eyes while realizing someone had to have flipped the light switch on.
“Very good of you to join us,” the man’s voice said congenially. Slowly lowering my arm, I had to blink a few times to allow my night vision to adjust to the brightness of the room. I could only stare at the man on the bed in front of me. He was heavyset and calmly pointing a pistol at me. At the sound of the door closing behind me, I turned my head and caught a glimpse of the two thugs behind me. But where was the third? I was certain I detected four distinct heartbeats. As soon as I glanced back at O’Banion, I noticed another stockily built man with a bulldog face. He walked into the room, and I realized he was just returning from the en suite toilet.
“How did you know I was coming?” I asked politely, trying to sound as nonchalant as I could. These men were merely humans, which meant I had nothing to fear. At least, not from them. I was willing to play their game in the meantime, if only to obtain more information, and then I planned to destroy each and every one of them.
“I hate to be the messenger o’ bad news, my boy,” O’Banion started as he stood up and approached me. “But your ol’ lady set you up tonight.”
O’Banion was short and round. Although he was undoubtedly human, he more resembled a chicken. His eyes were smallish, and his nose looked very much like a beak. His narrow lips and birdlike mouth were only exaggerated by his multiple chins. Still sporting a full head of hair and lacking any facial wrinkles, I imagined he could not have been much older than thirty or thirty-five, at the most.
“Meg set me up?” I repeated, absent any doubt in my voice. “And why, I wonder, would she do that?” I was not certain how O’Banion discovered our plan, but I was convinced Meg had nothing to do with it. There must have been an informant posing inside our ranks. I fully intended to sniff him out too—just as soon as I freed myself from my current situation.
“She did it because she was under orders and had to do it,” O’Banion replied with a smirk as he motioned to one of the goons behind me. He approached me with what appeared to be a set of handcuffs. I could only scoff at him inside my mind because the silly fool had no idea how easily I could snap the handcuffs. About as easily as I could break his neck.
“Cuff him, Liam,” O’Banion said to the underling.
“Git yer ’ands behind yer back,” the oversized, brutish, slovenly creature demanded. I chuckled as I shook my head but obeyed the order. I was eager to let them think they were fully in charge of me while I unraveled the nature of this latest mystery. As soon as I had it figured out, I intended to kill them all.
I felt the weight of the handcuffs as soon as Liam wrapped them around my wrists and locked them. That struck me as odd; ordinarily, human handcuffs were about as heavy and hard to break as a paper-chain bracelet.
“I want to know who the rat is,” I stated as I faced O’Banion, who was now standing directly in front of me. Having his pistol reholstered, apparently he no longer considered me a threat; as long as my hands stayed bound behind my back.
“I already told you,” O’Banion retorted.
“I do not believe Meg would do that. Not for a second,” I replied.
“Well, ya better start believin’ it, ’cause it’s the honest truth,” the man behind me, Liam, announced.
“Explain,” I demanded as I glared at O’Banion.
“We’re breakin’ Chicago up into smaller territories,” he started. “And Meg intends to keep the South Side all to herself.”
“I am well aware of that,” I interrupted.
“I was perfectly willin’ to give her what she wanted, just as long as she showed me that she was still serious about joinin’ up with me. It’s on account o’ what good ol’ Abe Lincoln said. You know, ‘a house divided against itself can’t stand,’ right?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “I can’t afford to have my house fall apart, which means I have to find trustworthy partners to ally myself with.”
“So … I am the collateral?” I interrupted. I was growing impatient with his explanation, and my anger refused to be ignored. Was it possible that Meg had actually set me up? She certainly failed to mention this part of our plan. Had I trusted her blindly?
“You were the collateral,” O’Banion finished with a quick nod. “But now you’re the sacrificial lamb, the victim. Meg had to prove to me that she would stand with us, and not turn against us. The only way I could trust her was if she sacrificed something dear to her.”
I nodded, but that did not mean I was persuaded by his explanation. Although from all appearances, it appeared Meg set me up for an ambush, I was utterly convinced she had an ace up her sleeve. She knew something they did not know: that I was a vampire. It would not be an easy task to eliminate someone of my ilk. I began to chuckle. “She did not set me up,” I started as the laugh died on my lips. “She set you up.”
O’Banion did not react or respond. I took a step closer to dispatch him, satisfied that I now had all the information I sought. Consequently, my show was about to begin. I attempted to twist the handcuffs that bound my wrists apart and was astonished when I discovered I could not. I pulled against them much harder the second time, but only managed to strain my left shoulder.
“Meg provided me with those cuffs,” O’Banion explained with little interest. “She told me of your … unique abilities and assured me that police-issued handcuffs were not sufficient to restrain you.”
I was astounded. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Then what you said was true?” I asked, now completely deflated. I simply could not understand or comprehend what could have induced Meg to do such a thing as this to me.
“I may be many things,” O’Banion started with a smile. “But I am foremost a man of my word.”
“What will you do with me?” I inquired dejectedly.
His only response was to aim his pistol at me. He fired the weapon, and I watched the bullet lodge into my upper right thigh. The pain he inflicted was no more than a mere blip on my radar, although I must admit he surprised me by choosing to take that shot. “Shooting me in my leg will not kill me,” I said with a smile as my fangs began to lengthen. Although I mi
ght not have been able to free myself from the handcuffs, I still had supernatural strength and speed …
Except I was starting not to feel quite as strong or powerful as usual. There was a burning, fiery sensation where the bullet entered my flesh, and the discomfort was radiating outward, as if it were poisoning the rest of my body. Unable to tolerate the increasing pain, I collapsed onto my knees.
“That should keep you detained for quite a while,” O’Banion said smugly. He motioned to the wound in my thigh which was now streaming blood that was gathering into a puddle on the carpet below me. “Or at least until the sun comes up at dawn and disposes of you without further effort on my part.”
“What was that bullet comprised of?” I demanded as the stabbing pain began to throb throughout my entire being, and rippling waves of agony pervaded every part of my body.
“Dragon’s blood,” O’Banion answered with a quick laugh. “Or at least, that’s what Meg called it.” He started for the door, his thugs following in line behind him. “I hope the toxic bullet kills you before the sun gets the opportunity.” Then they all walked out of the room. I collapsed onto my stomach, but any position I took failed to alleviate the persistent pain. Having never heard of dragon’s blood bullets, they certainly sounded foreboding.
“Oh, and one last thing,” O’Banion said as he reappeared in the doorway again. “If it eases the situation you now find yourself in, you might like to know that even though Meg is fully responsible for setting you up to take the fall, I also set her up.”
“What … do you mean?” I inquired.
O’Banion shrugged. “I did a little bit of research, myself, and I found out you bloodsuckers don’t fare very well in encounters with fire,” he explained, his self-impressed smile returning to his arrogant face. “Let’s just say that Meg is just about to meet her own … hot demise.” He took a long, dramatic breath and added, “I prefer not to do my business with the undead.” Saying that, he turned on his heel and walked out, closing the door behind him.
