“Welcome, sir,” said the rat faced little man who Marcus knew as Frenchy. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too,” said one of the large men, a bald biker with a large belly, taking a quick pull from an imported beer between his mustache and goatee. “I didn’t think you was gonna show. Frenchy said you had a wad of cash on you.”
“Which I will give to you, Mr., ah.”
“Call me Ironhead,” said the man. “And my partners are Chainsaw and Hammer.”
“They’re the local representatives of the Satan’s Disciples,” said Frenchy, his own chest puffing out with the pride of association.
“Shut the fuck up, you little shit,” growled Hammer, a man who looked like he spent as much time in the gym as the bar. “I’ll stick a hand up your ass when I want you to be our puppet.”
Fear flew across Frenchy’s face as he looked to the other two for support. Seeing none, he closed his mouth and moved away from the table.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ironhead,” said Marcus with a smile on his face. “Mr. Hammer, Mr. Chainsaw.”
“Now don’t he sound like an educated man,” said Chainsaw, a smaller but still muscular man who picked up his beer bottle with a fluid grace.
Marcus recognized him as the most dangerous of the bunch. But he had faced down the chieftains of barbarian nations, men who would have him tortured to death while they ate their breakfast and loved their women. These men did not frighten him, especially since they could only hurt him permanently if they pierced his heart or cut off his head. Not that he expected them to know that. In fact he was counting on them to not know that fact. Or to think that the sun was about to go down over the horizon.
“You have some cash for us, man?” asked Ironhead, leering up at Marcus. Marcus nodded his head as he looked down at the man, his crimson orbs boring into Ironhead’s eyes. Ironhead kept eye contact for a few moments, then looked nervously down at the table.
“You try to stare me down and you’ll regret it,” growled Hammer, slamming his beer bottle on the table and sloshing suds onto the surface.
“Gentlemen,” said Marcus in his best calming voice. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here for information.”
“Information don’t come cheap,” said Chainsaw, speaking up when Ironhead continued to sit staring down at the table.
Marcus could feel the fear battling with anger in the man. The Vampire Lord knew that the man had lost face in front of his partners. And he knew that the man would now want to take his anger out on the object of that fear.
“I’m willing to pay for it,” said Marcus in his smooth voice, pulling a wad of hundreds from his pocket folded into a heavy gold band. He could feel the greed in the men. And the willingness to commit violence against him to get more than he was willing to offer. He smiled again at the men.
“It’s not a good idea to talk here,” said Ironhead, glancing quickly up at Marcus, then turning to glance at his partners who both nodded their heads. “I think we could talk in the back, if you wanted your information right now.”
Both the partners smiled as Marcus nodded his head. Chainsaw got to his feet and gestured toward a door at the back of the bar and started to walk toward it. Hammer and Ironhead picked up their beers and fell in behind Marcus as he followed the most dangerous of the bikers to the private area, a back room. Chainsaw walked across the room and opened the far door and swaggered into the alley behind the bar, as the other two crowded close to Marcus to keep him from changing his mind.
It was still twilight outside, though the sun had left the sky and Marcus could feel the strength that lived in his dead muscles. Ironhead walked around him and turned, putting his back against the concrete block wall of another building. Hammer and Chainsaw both took up positions slightly to the rear of Marcus, one to his left and one to his right.
Boxed in, thought the vampire. Trapped by men used to using violence to get what they want. But they had no idea what they had trapped.
“Let’s see that money, pops,” Ironhead growled, thrusting his beer breathe face into Marcus’.
“I have some questions to ask first,” said Marcus, again backing the man up with his stare.
“What you want to know, little man?” asked Hammer over his shoulder. Marcus could feel the man’s foul breathe on his cheek.
“I want to know who are the movers and shakers in the criminal world here?” said Marcus. “I want to know where they work, and where they live?”
“You ain't asking for much,” said Chainsaw with a laugh. “We give you those names, what you gonna do with them?”
“That is for me to know,” said Marcus, letting the veiled anger show in his voice. “But let me assure you,” he continued, allowing his voice to switch to calming mode, “I mean them no harm.”
“Let me assure you,” said Hammer in a mocking voice, breaking out into a laugh. “What the hell are you?”
“I think he’s a Narc,” said Chainsaw, putting a hand on Marcus’ shoulder and gripping tight. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and clicked it open, holding menacingly behind the vampire.
“You will release me this instant,” growled Marcus, tiring of the game.
“Or what, you faggot,” grunted Chainsaw, putting the tip of the knife against the small of Marcus’ back.
Marcus reached his right hand up casually, placing his fingers over Chainsaw’s. He heard the man grunt as he applied a bit of pressure, then felt the cold blade slide painlessly into his back. A second grunt, this one filled with pain, followed, as Marcus felt the bones of the hand crack under the pressure he now applied.
“What the fuck,” yelled Hammer, swinging a fist into the side of Marcus’ head. The heavy fist smacked into Marcus’ temple, and rocked the vampire a bit on his feet.
Marcus twisted the hand he gripped in his, hearing the cracking sounds of wrist bones breaking and the tearing of cartilage. Chainsaw screamed as he brought his knife back and stabbed into the back of his tormentor. With a swing of his arm Marcus twisted Chainsaw to the side and away, to smack into the concrete block wall. Chainsaw slid down the wall, his good hand gripping the other after dropping the knife.
Hammer grabbed Marcus by his jacket and tried to lift and push him at the same time. Ironhead came off the wall swinging a combination of blows toward the vampire’s head, landing them without effect. Marcus grabbed the wrists of Hammer as he fell back, stopping the fall as he dug his sharp fingernails into the human flesh. The smell of blood hit his nostrils as he bared his fangs and felt the hunger begin to war with his rational mind. But he had been around long enough to always be in control.
Marcus pushed back, throwing Hammer into the air, the man flailing his arms as he fell onto his back with a huff of expelled air. Ironhead had stooped down and come up with a section of iron pipe. He raised it over his right shoulder and brought it down with all of his might. To Marcus it was as if the man moved in slow motion. He reached up his right hand as he twisted toward Ironhead, grabbing the pipe and pulling it from Ironhead’s hand. Marcus brought the pipe back swiftly and struck at Ironhead’s skull. He bared his fangs in satisfaction as he felt the bone of the man’s forehead crack under the pipe, followed by spurting blood that sprayed over the alleyway.
Ironhead fell to the ground, his wide-open eyes blank as his frontal lobes were destroyed. Marcus threw the iron pipe at the quivering body, propelling the cylinder through the man’s biker vest, blasting through ribs and into his chest. Grunting in satisfaction Marcus turned to the rising Hammer.
Hammer took one look at Marcus, another at the body of Ironhead lying on the ground with blood pouring from his head and chest, and turned to run. Marcus watched him run, feeling a smile creep across his face. A huge black man appeared then at that end of the alley, standing calmly in the way of the fleeing biker.
“Out of my way, nigger,” yelled Hammer as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a short barreled revolver. The black man stood there, not a bit of emotion showing on
his face. Hammer pulled the trigger, firing point blank into the body of the obstacle before him. He stopped and fired again, as the black man stood there as if nothing was happening.
“You may feed, Tashawn,” said Marcus, as he caught Chainsaw out of the corner of his eye as the man struggled to get back to his feet.
Tashawn reached forward and slapped the pistol from Hammer’s hand. He then reached and grabbed Hammer’s shirt with the speed of a striking viper, jerking the man toward him. Hammer stared at Tashawn like a bird caught in the gaze of a serpent as Tashawn pulled him close. The giant opened his mouth, his jaws hinging wider than humanly possible. With a thrust of his head Tashawn pushed his sharp canines through the skin of the biker he was holding close.
Marcus could hear the slurping from Tashawn’s feeding as he turned his attention to Chainsaw, who was now on his feet and stumbling toward the other exit from the alley, holding his shattered wrist and hand close to his body. Marcus could hear the sobs of the fleeing man, could feel the fear radiating from him.
With a rush of speed Marcus was past the man and in front of him. He turned to face the running Chainsaw, to his heightened speed looking as if he were creeping down the alley. Marcus slowed down his time acceleration and stood in front of the frightened biker, seeming to have just appeared there to the human’s perception.
“What the fuck are you?” screamed Chainsaw as he skidded to a halt and almost fell to the ground.
“I would think that would be obvious by now,” said Marcus, allowing his long canines to show, reaching toward the man.
“That’s impossible,” yelled Chainsaw, trying to turn and run, stopping as he saw the huge black man at the other end of the alley still bent over the standing form of Hammer.
Marcus grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun the biker back to face him. Marcus then grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted the bigger man into the air.
“Now,” said Marcus, his fiery gaze boring into the man’s eyes. “How about we talk about that information I wanted.”
Ten minutes later Marcus was sure that he had drained all the information the man had. Minutes after he was sure he had drained all of the blood the man had. He dropped the body to the ground, looking down on the man as he decided what was to come next. He felt Tashawn over his shoulder, and turned to face the huge vampire.
“I don’t want these rising, Tashawn,” said Marcus, looking at the three bodies scattered around the alley. “Not that they wouldn’t make useful minions. But I have no need for this area to become crowded with our kind.”
“What’s the deal with that,” said Tashawn, a frown on his face. “Why do you care if they rise or not. What can the puny humans do to us?”
“Ah,” said Marcus, laying a hand on the giant’s shoulder as he looked up into his face. “The exuberance of youth. That is why so many of our kind meet their ends before they develop the wisdom to survive.”
“Yeah, man,” said Tashawn, towering over his master. “Why ain't the cops here yet? Someone had to hear the commotion. At least the gun shots?”
“I have a feeling that this is their home turf,” said Marcus, nodding at the body of Chainsaw. “Things like this must happen often around here, and people are used to staying out of things and minding their own business.
“Or maybe things not quite like this,” laughed Marcus. “I’m sure they had no idea what was to transpire tonight.”
Marcus reached down and picked up the body of Chainsaw, holding him like he would a small woman. He walked the corpse to the center of the alley and laid him against the foot of the door. He turned to Tashawn as he stood over the dead man.
“Go and get the gas can from the car,” he ordered his minion. “Bring it back here and we will take care of this trash.”
He watched the back of the enormous man as Tashawn walked from the alley. What I could do with such strength, he thought. Unfortunately that strength was attached to a youth with no wisdom. But if he survives he will become formidable. I wonder if she knows what she has unleashed upon the world.
Marcus picked up the other two bodies and carried them to the door, then opened the door and looked into the back room. It was deserted. Crossing the room he grabbed the knob a twisted it out of shape, destroying the opening mechanism and insuring that no one would come into this room. He walked back to the door and tossed the first body into the room. He followed with the other two and Tashawn appeared with the gas can.
Marcus took the three gallon can from his minion and poured the gasoline over the bodies, then poured some more over the floor boards around the bodies. He motioned Tashawn out of the room. In the alley he pulled a Zippo out of his pocket, flicked it to life, and tossed it into the room. The gasoline flared to fiery life as flames engulfed the bodies.
“What if the building burns down?” asked Tashawn. “Be kind of rough on the whores if they can’t get out.”
“As you so eloquently say, my friend,” said Marcus, looking into his minion’s face. “Fuck em. Now we have a place where we need to be, and this is not it. So let us go and wait for our prey.”
“You know where she’s gonna be?”
“No, Tashawn,” said Marcus as he gestured for the other vampire to lead the way. “But I have a good idea where she might strike next. I hope your human servant is good at reading maps.”
About the Author
Doug Dandridge is an ex-professional student with degrees from Florida State University and The University of Alabama, and coursework in Psychology, Biology, Geology, Physics, Chemistry, Anthropology and Nursing. Doug has interest in all of the fantastic, including science fiction, fantasy and horror, as well as all eras of military history. Doug is a prolific writer, having completed 25 novel length manuscripts. He is still seeking a major publishing contract, but has decided that self- publishing is the way to go at this time. His work can be found on Amazon and Smashwords, as well as his own website. Doug lives with his four cats in Tallahassee, Florida, and currently has no social life, as he is too busy writing around his work schedule.
Follow my many characters and settings at http://dougdandridge.net
Contact me at [email protected]
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The Favor of a review.
Reviews, rating and comments on Amazon about this novel are much appreciated. If you liked the novel please leave a review that will help others to discover this novel. If you have comments about mistakes I might have made, posting them in a review will tell me what I need to do to grow as a writer and put a quality product out on the net. If you want to see these characters again (at least the ones that survived) a review will let me know I should consider writing in this particular Universe again.
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Books by Doug Dandridge
Science Fiction
The Deep Dark Well Trilogy
The Deep Dark Well: An Adventure 40,000 years in the making. Pandora Latham was a Kuiper Belt Miner from Alabama. She’s used to landing on her feet, even when the next surface is through a wormhole, halfway across the Galaxy and 46,000 years in the Future. Pandora must discover the secret behind the end of civilization, and the enigma of the Immortal Watcher, the last survivor of the Empire that once ruled the stars. Her decisions will set the path for Galactic recovery, or a continuation down the roads of Barbarism.
To Well and Back: Pandora Latham is back, working Watcher’s plan to restore Galactic Civilization. But first she has to deal with the Xenophobes of the Nation of Humanity, back in the Supersystem with their sights set on making the Galaxy their own. Pandora is angry at the hyper religious Nation, and you don’t want to make a woman from Alabama angry.
The Exodus Series
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1: The introduction to the Exodus Un
iverse. Two thousand years prior mankind fled from the Predatory Ca’cadasans, traveling a thousand years and ten thousand light years to a new home. Now the greatest power of their sector of space, things seem to be going well for the New Terran Empire. Until the enemy appears once again at the gates. And the years have not softened the aliens’ stance toward Humanity.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2: The saga continues. The Ca’cadasans attack at the moment when the government of the Empire is at its most chaotic. There are other enemies as well, waiting for their chance to fall on the overwhelmed humans. And a young man with no ambition for power finds himself in the position he most dreads.
Other Scifi
Diamonds in the Sand: When a perfectly healthy scientist falls dead of an apparent heart attack, it is up to Sarasota Police Detective Lieutenant Gary Lariviere to find out what really happened. The scientist was working on Nanotechnology, a secret desired by everyone from the Government to the Mob. There are too many suspects, including the woman that Gary comes to love. The Army had made Gary better than human, but had they prepared him for the terrors that had been unleashed by the new technology?
The Scorpion: The Scorpion had been the world’s deadliest living terrorist. Kestral McMann had been in on the kill. Now The Scorpion is back as a mind upload, using clones to penetrate the tight security of an isolationist United States. McMann is the only man who can stop him. But can McMann survive the threat of his own side, and the insane President who leads the Nation, in time to stop The Scorpion from plunging the Great Satan back into the Stone Age.
The Shadows of the Multiverse: Something has been periodically wiping intelligence from our Universe through the ages. It’s back, and it’s up to three unlikely heroes, the Captain of a Battle Cruiser, a Physicist turned Archeologist, and a Child, to save the intelligence of the Universe from Monsters from another Dimension. Can they learn to use the powers of their unusual Quantum Minds to defeat creatures that have been playing the game for billions of years?
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1 Page 35
