The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  I scurried to my feet. Backpedaling toward the stairs, I searched the dark corners for the little shit. When he leapt, he must have rolled into the shadows somewhere because I had no sight of him. In an instant, I made the decision to haul ass up the staircase. Gun in hand, my feet carried me swiftly upward. I emerged, breathless, and dizzy into the pitch black space of the bar area. Thinking sensibly, I reached back and shut the door that led downstairs. The closed door cut the light out completely, but at least I would know if I had a monster at my back.

  I made my way through the maze of tables, somehow getting myself turned around ass-backwards in the dark. I had made it to the bar that I knew; other than that, I was fucked. I turned and put my back to the padded bar, aimed my gun chest high, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the blackness.

  In the dark your other senses are on full alert. To my right, I kept hearing a shuffling sound. It almost sounded like mice in a cupboard. I listened closely for a minute or two. The sound never grew louder or closer to me. My eyes were beginning to grow accustomed to the darkness. I could make out the tables, with chairs stacked on them, a few feet in front of me. There was a pool table to my left. To my right was an interesting silhouette. It took my tired brain a heartbeat to recognize the shape it was seeing and react to it. It was a heartbeat too long. The odd shape leapt over a table and tackled me to the ground. My ass hit first, thank God. But my back wasn’t far behind. When my back hit the floor, it jarred my arm and my gun went sliding. The gun made a strange scraping sound as it slid farther and farther away from me. It was the sound of hope lost. The fall had knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t breathe as it was and the figure on top of me was heavy, strangling the air from my lungs.

  I worked my legs back and forth trying to wiggle out from underneath him. He was strong and weighed a lot. This must have been the third man. Philippe/Diego’s skinny ass could never have weighed this much. Stringy hair fell over my face as the figure leaned his body over mine. I could feel his hot breath on my skin. He was a mouth breather. His hands held my upper arms flush with the ground. I kicked rapidly. My hands flexed and clenched. My body was resisting eminent death at all costs. My eyes began to focus on the object before me. A hairline and whites of eyes were all I was able to make out. I figured as long as I could see his eyes, I had something to aim at when I jabbed them with my thumbs. I smiled at the thought and started working my arms harder now, trying to break free of his intense hold. Seconds felt like hours trapped under the dark mass. The face was coming closer to mine now. Only inches away, it smiled. As I saw the whites of eyes, I could see the white of teeth now. I could see the double fangs he bore. He smiled wide.

  Shit.

  I kicked and screamed and shook my head side to side, over and over and over again. He put his lips to mine. I squeezed my lips tightly and moved my head to the side. That’s when he bit me.

  I screamed. Bloodcurdling, horror movie scream. I felt his hot breath on my neck. The sharp points of teeth pressed into my flesh. I felt the skin on my neck pop under the pressure of piercing fangs. My mind kicked into overdrive and something told me to fight like hell. With him over me as he was, I didn’t have many options. His face was buried in my neck, body pressed against mine. I had only one option; I bit him back. I had to jerk my head to one side to do so. As I did this, I tore my flesh from his clench. The searing pain of torn flesh was almost unbearable but not as much so as the thought of dying by poser vampire bite.

  As hard as I could, I sunk my teeth into the meat of his neck. It was thick and muscled. At first, he only groaned. It almost seemed as though it was a pleasurable experience for him. Then I bit harder. The tough skin that covered his neck finally gave way. Hot, salty blood filled my mouth. He howled in pain.

  Good.

  His jaw released its grip and he threw his head back. I kept my hold on him. Blood flowed softly into my throat. I tried hard not to swallow any of it, holding the majority in my cheeks. I bit harder and shook my head from side to side like a pit bull on its prey. I hadn’t hit an artery or there would have been a lot more blood at a much faster rate. So I did my best to inflict as much damage as possible.

  He lifted himself up using only his back muscles, taking me with him. His hands searched my body for my throat. I released my hold before he had the chance to find it. As soon as he was free, he stumbled back away from me. I crawled backwards away from him, spitting his salty blood from my mouth. My back hit the pool table. I used the edge of the table to pull myself up.

  He screamed at me. “You bitch! I fucking kill you! Can’t wait to drain you dry.” His voice was deep and oddly familiar.

  “I thought I was tainted.” I was backing farther away from the bloody maniac.

  “Slayer blood. Amazing. AHHH, what a rush.” A small hint of an accent floated in the air.

  “You think I’m a vampire slayer?” I couldn’t hold it in. The laughter boomed from my throat.

  “Don’t lie to me bitch. You kill my Regina. Staked her. Took her fucking head!” He was holding his neck where I bit him.

  “I killed her?! I didn’t fucking kill her. I thought you did.” I had backed up as far as the wall would allow. I leaned against the hard surface and felt something roll against my back. I felt with my hands and discovered a rack of pool cues. Better than nothing.

  “Why would I kill my ravenous beauty? She was my eternal concubine.” His voice went soft.

  “So, you didn’t kill her? And you think I did it.” I gripped the shaft of a wooden cue and held it at my back.

  “You were tracking the three of us. Here. Fresno. I would not kill my immortal.”

  “Well I didn’t fucking do it.” We stood at a standoff for a moment. Staring at each other. “But you did kill the other girls, right?” I said finally.

  “Oh yeah. Of course.” He chuckled lightly.

  “Okay, just checking.” I pulled the cue around my body and held it machine gun style at my groin.

  “You die tonight slayer!” He charged me then. Full force run: fast, heavy and never wavering. His dense frame plunged into the end of the pool cue with a wet squeeze. Kind of like ketchup. The sensation was both liberating and horrifying in one staggering breath. He staggered back, stick protruding from his core. He looked at it, then at me. He seemed a bit confused. His legs finally faltered and he toppled to the floor. His last breath escaped his lips, ragged and final. Died for the cause, I guess.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Huh, staked you fucker.” I kicked him in his side for good measure. His limp body moved only slightly.

  With all the chaos, I’d nearly forgotten Diego and Tatum in the basement. Mike and Cyrus had all but disappeared. And here I was right back where I started. In the dark. Only this time, I was joined by my dead friend on the floor.

  The idea that I’d actually taken a life was starting to sink in. I stared at the wide lump of wasted human. Bile began to find its way to the back of my throat again. I told myself I wasn’t a killer. People who killed bad guys aren’t murderers, they’re heroes. Or vigilantes at least. Hell, in this case, I may very well be a slayer.

  That’s way better than murderer. Right?

  A loud crash to my left brought my thoughts back to present. Light spilled into the blackened room as Mike and Philippe, I mean Diego, careened through the wooden door. Instinctively, I grabbed a second cue from the rack and prepared myself for a fight. Somewhere in the mess was my gun.

  I scanned the floor quickly utilizing the new light. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the dead man at my feet. My stomach turned as I looked over his all too familiar features. The heavy frame that had held me to the floor belonged to Sam, blood still drying on his mouth and collar of his shirt. My sweet Hawaiian friend was dead on a bar floor at my feet. I had put him there. I was vexed; I liked him, and I thought he was a good guy. I was really fucking mistaken. Eyes watering with rage and sorrow, I made the attempt at shrugging off the loss and turned my focus to the matter at ha
nd.

  At that moment, Cyrus sailed through the broken door. His eyes were wild as they found me in my darkened corner. The other two tousled about on the floor. One in control, then the other. I moved around the billiard table toward the scrap. I was on my way around a high-top table when my foot kicked something. A familiar scraping sound scuffed the ground at my feet. Scrambling quickly around the ball of men on the floor, I went for my gun. In that instant, Cyrus joined the battle. He leapt into the middle of the jumble like a dog in a pack. Mike was on the bottom of the pile now, Diego sandwiched between them. Diego had his hands clamped onto Mike’s neck. Cyrus grabbed him by the head and began pulling backward. Mike was making horrible sounds from high in his throat. Light washed over them from the gaping hole left in the broken door, acting as a spotlight. I could see Mike’s face changing from pink to red to nearly purple. The scratchy gurgle sound had stopped and only silence emitted from his gaping mouth.

  Cyrus leaned back on his heels with Diego’s head held tightly in his forearms. The move caused the man in the middle to bow backward awkwardly. Cyrus moved his hands and placed them firmly under Diego’s chin. It looked as though he was trying to pull his head clean off. Mike was nearly unconscious now. Catching me in the corner of his eye, he strained to look at me. His eyebrows pulled together and his eyes began to flutter closed. Diego squeezed tighter on his neck. He was going to kill him.

  Diego’s chest was left exposed from the position Cyrus had forced him into. I made a rash decision then. Very carefully, I took aim on the scrawny little chest of that petite bastard. Once he was targeted, I took a deep solid breath in, and let it out through my nose. Shot up a prayer and pulled the fucking trigger. My ears rang instantly with the loud blast of my pistol. I could see the aftermath but it was like watching a movie on mute. Blood blasted from the hole in Diego’s chest splattering Mike’s face with red spots. Cyrus fell backward releasing his hold on skinny pricks chin. Mike rolled onto his side; mouth opening and closing like a fish. Cyrus’ mouth was open wide, eyes squeezed shut. Diego, the idiot vampire, fell to his side limply. Like a push of a button, the sound returned.

  I felt like I’d missed something vital. Mike was gasping for air. On all fours now, he was crawling toward the broken wooden door. Cyrus was screaming and hollering. Diego lay there silent and bleeding. Pool cue in one hand, pistol in the other I stood in awe at the damage I had caused. Mike pulled Cyrus away from Philippe’s body and leaned him against an adjacent wall. Mike ripped Cyrus shirt open to reveal a clean little hole. I noticed only then the blood that covered his shirt. I had shot him.

  Well shit, I didn’t want to shoot him now; that was earlier.

  “Oh shit, sorry. I was trying to shoot that fuck.” I pointed toward the dead asshole by the door.

  “I’ll live. It just hurts like hell right now. You nailed him though. Good job.” His voice was feeble.

  “Where did you guys go?” I asked through ragged breathing.

  “We thought we found a back room to the left. There was no one in the main area when we walked down so we went through the door. The two of us ended up coming out in the alley out back. When we came back in, that asshole rushed us from nowhere.” Mike’s thoughts were scrambled as was his breathy voice.

  “Did anyone check on Tatum?” They both just looked at me like I had introduced a brand new concept to the equation. I rolled my eyes and turned to make my way down stairs.

  I was feet from the hole in the door when Diego/Philippe soared up from his spot on the ground. His tall thin frame thrust the both of us backward through the hole. Down the steps I tumbled, again. This time I was carrying the alien, vampire, tool with me. Our bodies crashed to the hard floor with little sound. We flipped and rolled like a human bowling ball, crashing into the stacks of five gallon buckets. They fell over like pins at the end of the lane. Thick, sticky, liquid splashed from the overturned buckets. Diego and I were dowsed with gallons of blood. The underground room was instantly filled with the smell of blood. Like a jar full of pennies. Or an old rusted tin can.

  When we finally skidded to a stop, I was on top; just the way I like it. Miraculously, I held the cue the entire ride down. It had broken a bit, leaving only the splintered ends of about a foot of the polished wood. Without thinking, I plunged the jagged piece of wood into the hole I had made in his chest with my bullet. The sound was wet and sloppy; I don’t think I need to mention a descriptive simile. I wiggled the wood around digging it further into the gory hole I had created. He struggled at first but the struggling died down after a minute or so. Blood oozed from his mouth and other places onto the concrete. It mixed morbidly with the buckets of blood that had been spilled from the tipped over containers.

  That’s going to leave a stain.

  His breath fell ragged, and after a moment or two, it stopped. I took the liberty of slapping him across the face a few times to make sure he was good and dead. As far as I could tell, he was.

  One more time for good measure.

  “Alright that’s enough.” I jumped at the sound of Mike’s voice.

  “Thanks for the back up.” I climbed to my feet steadily for the first time in a while.

  “It happened so fast. Before we knew it, you were through the hole and out of sight. I came down as fast as I could. Nice move with the make shift stake by the way.” He sat unsteadily on the bottom step.

  “You should see the guy upstairs.” I walked away then and finally went to see my friend on the metal slab.

  I walked cautiously toward her naked body. I heard Mike rustling around behind me.

  “Hey, stay over there for a minute please.” He didn’t answer. He didn’t move any closer to me either so I assumed he understood.

  Her skin was so pale she almost glowed. I got close enough to touch her skin. It was cool to the touch but not the cold you get from the truly dead. My stomach let up its tension just a smidge. I leaned my face over her nose and listened for breathing. I heard nothing. Shit. I turned my head and put my ear tight to her nose; eyes focused on her chest. Waiting for even the slightest rise and fall, I stared until I thought I was hallucinating movement. My heart jumped and I smiled. She was breathing. That was when she bit me.

  Oh fuck!

  CHAPTER 33

  “Haha! Gotcha!” She had released her bite and I backed away swiftly, falling on my ass.

  “You bitch! I almost called Mike to come stake you!” I said from my spot on the concrete.

  She was laughing as she sat up. I recovered the sheet and handed it to her to cover herself with. My blood soaked hands left morose red stains on the stark white sheet.

  “Thanks,” she said taking the stained sheet from my hands.

  “You’re lucky I saved your ass. What the fuck were you thinking shacking up with someone like Malcolm? And then keeping it all from me! You made me feel like a fucking idiot. You and that bastard Cyrus. Now that this is all over, you’re both on my shit list.”

  “I didn’t tell you because I was sworn to secrecy at first. I met him during a story last year. I had gone in undercover for an expose’ on underage bloodletting in the scene. The story never panned out but Malcolm and I ended up hooking up a few times. Well, maybe more than a few. But I knew you wouldn’t understand. Besides, it was just sex.” She spoke as though I should just forgive her and let it all go. Not a chance.

  “What about Embrace? And Sandora? And fucking Cyrus for that matter?”

  She looked at the ground. Refusing to meet my eyes she began talking.

  “I knew all about the bloodroot.” I scoffed at her comment. “I also knew it was safe and fun. I knew we’d have to bloodlet when we met with Sandora. You would have freaked, so I didn’t tell you.” She looked at me in the eyes then. “I know Cyrus. I thought you’d love him. You had been so into your work this year, I thought you needed some fun. And what better way than to work and play.” She smiled. “I know you saw him leaving with a blonde. It was me.” I looked at her in shock. “It wasn’t
like that. I drank too much and he took me home. I had gone to visit Malcolm after you and I met with him and I ended up not being able to drive myself home. He likes you, Dylan. Yes, he can be a complete ass, but I don’t think he ever betrayed you.” She knew the look I had on my face. She was there in high school when I was betrayed, purposefully. It was back then that I decided to never let anyone in. “This isn’t high school, Dylan. He’s not the hot jock that fucked you around. You don’t have to love, shit you don’t even have to like him. But don’t think you were an idiot for one second. If anyone betrayed your trust, it was me. And I am so sorry. I just wanted you to have fun.” She stopped then. Her apology was over. When it came to Tatum, I could either accept it and let it go, or continue to be pissed. It made no difference to her. She said sorry, that was it. I wasn’t going to get it again.

  “I wish you would’ve said something. Maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.” It was my turn to look down. “You got kidnapped dude. I killed two people.” I laughed at the sound of my own squeaky voice. My body was beginning to shut down from the overload of shit I’d just put it through. She laughed too before she moved her way past me. The conversation was over. It would never be brought up again. Not if Tatum had anything to do with it.

  “Oh shit. You weren’t kidding.” Without regard, she stepped over Philippe’s body like he was a bag of garbage left at the curb, tracking bloody footprints behind her. “Hey Mike.” She smiled sweetly.