by CD Brown
But before she could rain down the death stroke, she heard a masculine groan and looked up to see an angry vamp flying like a bullet at her midsection. The OTN kid hit her right in the ribs and rolled with her seven feet away from his leader.
But that was all he had, as Sophia wasted no time piercing neck flesh and dislodging the kid’s head.
Battle cries were heard from all direction, but Sophia looked up to see Myra, hands cupped at her mouth. “Now!”
Sophia hopped up. Myra was engulfed by the OTN charge, but Sophia had to see what her plan was. Looking down at her own side, she saw another legion of punks stream out of the woods behind her own forces. She and her people were caught in a pincer.
As the front line of OTN vamps was about to pounce, Sophia felt herself lifted from the ground. Jeremiah, or at least the six-foot opossum he had become, had grabbed her with his spindly hands and scurried up a tree. Sophia was held aloft by one hand and the naked tail.
From this perch, Sophia saw claws thrashing and slashing followed by ashes spewing in the air. Both sides were losing vamps, but Sophia could see her side losing more.
“I’ve got to get back in.” Sophia put her shoes to the tree trunk and pushed as Jeremiah whipped out his tail for extra force. Diving over the battle and landing on the far side, she tried to find Myra in the pitch.
While she couldn’t find her sworn enemy, she did see Tamar pulling herself out. The two stood back to back in case anyone wanted to fight.
“What’s going on in there?”
“I can’t tell, but the press is too much.” Tamar stood to face the melee.
“Where’s Alpha?”
“There!”
He’d gotten on one of his brother’s shoulders, slashing down at a line of OTNs like he was chicken fighting in a pool. Soon, the ash from his blows turned his face gray. But Tamar stiffened.
“Watch…” Before she could finish her sentence, they both saw Myra use a hand up from two males and fly towards Alpha. Slashing with her left, she flew past him. Sophia felt Tamar’s spine turn to steel. Clumps of powder rained on the Bomb Squader’s head.
Sophia’s legs buckled as Tamar ran off, leaving only a pained wail. Sophia left her to deal with the leader. She needed to get back in there and salvage this battle. But as she was about to jump in, she heard something in the background, a motorized grinding that made her look up. A tiny helicopter with four blades hovered overhead. Was this thing radio controlled?
She didn’t have time to think about it. While OTN had the numbers, her side had the power vamps gain with age. While she had lost half, the sides were now even, with about thirty per. Sophie bent her knees to spring back in but heard something behind her. Turning, she felt the sting of claws ripping her back. There behind her, both claws at the ready, was Fudgie Whaloosie.
“You like what my daughter did?”
“Who? Myra?”
“My actual blood. It was weird turning her, but it needed to be done.”
“I thought you were power mad, not a psychopath.”
“Who’s crazy? What part of mob family don’t you understand?” Whaloosie laughed at his out quip. “Just fucking made that up.”
“Good for you.” Sophia slashed at him, but he jumped back.
“Keep trying. But you’ll never take me down.”
She kept swinging, but all that open air kept him free to dodge. He’d taken that one shot, but now he didn’t want to fight anymore. Something was wrong. “Tamar!”
She heard Whaloosie laugh as she dove back into the battle. She took a few scratches as she pressed through but could see they were losing as much as they were gaining. They could be defeated if they didn’t pull out.
But thoughts of retreat fled her mind when she saw Tamar who had backed Myra into a wall. The Latina vibrated with rage and didn’t see the three other vamps slowly surrounding her. Sophia dashed in, whipping past the would-be sneak attack. She stood back to back again, grabbing Tamar’s thigh in a sign of bonding. “I got your back, chica.”
Through coughs that were probably sobs, Tamar said, “Gracias.”
“Just got through talking with your pops, Myra. This was one helluva plot.”
“The fuck are you talking about, bitch?”
“Using these punks as cannon fodder before the real battle.” Sophia looked at the three in front of her. They were now listening very closely and not moving to attack.
“Would you guys kill her already? She’s pissing me off.”
“Oh, come on, y’all. You didn’t believe all this punk rock, fight against the man bullshit, did you? Soon as we’re gone, it’s gonna be mob rule, as in a mafia takeover.” Sophia giggled. “Just made that up.”
“Shut up.” Myra sounded panicky underneath her bluster. “She doesn’t know a goddamn thing.”
But they all looked up when sirens whooped and the chugging sounds of helicopters echoed through the park. Twenty cop cars filled the road on both sides, forming a steel blockade. The three young ones in front of Sophia disappeared in a poof, and she saw them streaking into the woods. All of their companions followed.
But Tamar didn’t waste time, gripping Myra in a bear hug. The punker dug her chin into her neck while Tamar tried to bite her throat. Tamar crushed her into the wall. As Sophia went to grab Myra’s head, she got a handful of mist. Myra floated off into the moonlight, another misty form joining her in the getaway.
“She’s dead. And I mean soon.” Tamar could only whisper. Sophia enveloped her in a hug, while Pamela walked up to join them.
“How did the police know to come?”
Pamela pointed up. “VampAmp has drones. Maisie was monitoring the whole time. Ace in the hole.”
“Well played.”
“Abraham had no interest in letting the one who bit him win.”
“She’s Fudgie’s daughter.”
“What?”
“Told me himself.”
“He was here?”
Sophia nodded. “He wanted all this. He wanted the vampire population decimated. He’s about to make his move.”
Sophia watched through the process, saying little. Abraham DelBarca was in one of the side offices recording a video for future mayors to keep the vampire’s contract. Tamar was in Boyle Heights, brooding and mourning while both of the cabals planned a memorial. Sandy buzzed with activity, hammering out every detail with the city attorney and making sure all was advantageous to their side.
Sophia wanted to be with Jeremiah, but the moon was full. He had retreated to the desert but traded e-mails to make sure all was okey dokey. Sophia insisted it was, but she thought she might be lying.
Before the papers were to be signed, Pamela pulled her into the big office. Going to the fridge, she pulled out a plastic bottle of blood, handing it to Sophia.
“Last few of me,” Pamela said. “Only three bottles left.”
“So it’s rare AND vintage.”
“First time I’ve seen you smile all day.”
Sophia knew her smile was rueful, but better than a brooding frown. “The Caballero would never have fallen for this. Nor would Dragos. Pamela, I’m in over my head.”
“Fudgie killed the Caballero. You don’t want that.” Pamela motioned for her to drink. Sophia took a pull, buoying her mood. “Besides, nobody else wants the damn job.”
“You could do it.”
“I got a business to run. And I’m not a vampire.”
“We could change that.”
Pamela’s smile disappeared. “Jim begged me to do it. I miss him terribly, but I was right.”
“I lost Chip, you lost Jim and now Tamar’s lost Alpha. This isn’t a pattern we can sustain.”
Pamela looked at her employees, each focused on their screens. “They’ll outlive me by a century. We’re here to make sure their future will be bright.”
“Even in everlasting darkness. I know. But there’s one thing I know. Until we get rid of Fudgie, everything we do could come tumbling down.”
“You gonna let that happen?”
Now Sophia smiled. “No fucking way.”
Part Three: Forming the Council
Chapter Twenty
“Oh my God!” Sophia stared at the computer monitor, the webcam’s red eye blinking just above it. But she didn’t care about that because for the first time in over a hundred years she gazed upon her own face. Or at least the outlines of cheeks and forehead.
For a few years, VampAmp had been developing heat-generating patches, similar to those used by professional athletes to fix minor tears and bruises, but these conformed directly to facial features, designed to fit an exact mold extruded by a 3D printer. By carefully cutting the wraps, vampires could appear on camera and in mirrors.
“Well, it still won’t help me fix my hair, but it’s a start.”
Pamela ran her fingers through Sophia’s gray locks. “You need to see my stylist.” She dropped the bunched knot. “And not just for your hair.”
“You mean my keep-it-simple wardrobe isn’t good enough anymore?”
“If you were Mark Zuckerburg, I guess it would be okay. But you could be so much more…”
“I know. Sandy’s been bugging me to go shopping with her ever since I arrived. But this Zuckerburg guy, whoever he is, sounds like he has the idea.”
“He had one good one, at least.” Pamela paused. “So, you’re piercing the Orange Curtain tonight?”
Sophia nodded. Sandy had become tired of “schlepping to Silver Lake” in her words and thought she was ready to form her own chapter in Irvine. But she wanted Sophia to run the first meeting to give Sandy that feeling of passing the torch. She hoped Sophia’s blessing would make the new location a success.
“This is what I wanted all along. I can’t be the only one running the meetings. And now that all these Hollywood bloodsuckers want to be seen at my place, the room is overflowing. I had to ask Jeremiah to stop coming.”
“Well, he has been getting one-on-one counseling for a while now.” Pamela’s Cheshire smile was naughty but not insulting. “Besides, he can actually eat food. He shouldn’t be taking the blood.”
“He wanted to fit in.”
“Does he?”
“I’ll never tell.” Sophia stood and peeled the patches from her face. They weren’t the same kind of adhesive as bandages, so taking them off didn’t hurt. “Are we all set for the first council meeting?”
“Yes. Someone named Scratch-dilla will now be representing the Bomb Squad.”
“He came out on top? I thought Tamika was gonna get the spot.”
“I don’t think they’d ever take being run by a female, vamp or no vamp.”
“They should take lessons from all the other cabals. Regardless, this is a just a casual sit-down to get the rules together.”
“Shows how many boardrooms you’ve been in. That’s the biggest fight of them all.”
Sophia couldn’t keep Pamela’s gaze, looking instead at Maisie tilting her head back and forth while watching her image. Pulling out her cellphone, Maisie took a selfie then showed it to Horton who showed her his. “This has to work. And it has to work our way. Those other councils out there need to be taken down. They want power. We want order.”
“And a stop to the fighting. But the way Jim described it, fighting is what LA vamps do.”
“Everyone can change. Everything can change. That’s why we have such a long afterlife. We are here now to get this done. And done right.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Pamela saluted her, then walked to her office. Sophia was left alone to figure out how to get to Orange County.
Sandy had decided to use the conference room at her office for her rehab meetings, so Sophia had Jeremiah drop her off there. The industrial park was generic in that California way, red brick stripes peeking through beige adobe buildings which tried to evoke the romantic mission viejo past but only succeeded is wiping away any personality. The fact that seven identical buildings occupied this business cul-de-sac didn’t help.
Sandy wanted to keep her meeting vamp only, so Jeremiah dropped Sophia off then went to see a movie. The insides of these buildings were generic in a modern way, with sleek glass doors and a reflective plastic desk centered for reception. Sandy waited for Sophia there, hanging up her cell phone as Sophia approached.
“Hey, babe. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad.” Sandy pointed to the small cooler Sophia held. “Oooh, snacks. Can’t wait.”
“How can so many people be on the road at 9 p.m.? Do they not want to be home?”
“No, but they do want to work either downtown or Hollywood. My drive is twenty minutes.” Sandy walked them to the elevators. As she pushed the button for the fifth floor, she turned to Sophia. “Jeremiah drop you off?”
“Yeah. It’s surprising what he’ll put up with.”
“Come on. He’s practically a thrall.”
“I don’t…”
“I know the blood is infrequent or whatever. But he’s all into you neck deep.” Sandy’s look got serious. “Are you thinking…long term with him?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing next week.”
“No, not that. I mean, you could help him with his furry problem.”
“You mean turn him? I’ve never done that.”
Sandy looked shocked. “Really? I’ve only done one, but you’re like way older than me.” Sandy rubbed Sophia’s shoulder. “No offense.”
“Whatever. But to your question, David took that responsibility. He built the cabal, so he was the sire. It was his way of keeping the group close and controlled.”
“Seems anti what we’re doing here.”
“On the surface, yes. But he thought another vampire meant another predator. To bring someone into the family was a big deal as well as a moral obligation.”
“Wish I could’ve been around him more.” Sandy led them out of the elevator and down a hall where an open door awaited them. “Carmen spoke so highly of him, but I only got to that one meeting. You were obviously in love with him.”
“Hold on.”
“Oh, yeah, you had your guy. But stop denying it.” Sandy pulled the door all the way open. “We’ll pick this up later. Now let’s rock their world.”
The Orange County vamps were all real young, less than a decade turned. They, like Sandy, were trying to balance a continued work life with all of the annoying inconveniences of undeath. Sophia started with the blood—wild boar from central California, chickens from East L.A. and tuna fresh from the dock “for that sushi taste” as she put it. The libations helped get them talking and, while their problems weren’t that different from the working stiffs surrounding them, Sophia preached, prodded and delved to get their feelings exposed.
“Don’t let them fester,” she said. “Let them dry out and blow away.”
They ended with the convergence which Sandy led. In this moment, Sophia passed the torch of leadership to her friend because inciting this bonding showed everyone in the room that Sandy had the right temperament to focus outside of herself and onto a larger group.
When the group filed out, Sandy held Sophia back. “I gotta admit. I was nervous, like first day in court nervous.”
Sophia hugged her, rubbing her tension-filled back. “You did good, baby.” Sophia let her loose and they walked to the elevator.
“That’s some serious power, though. It feels like you’re holding all of their souls, but they’re about to burst like balloons. You have to handle them, yet it’s so fragile.” Sandy looked at Sophia’s face which had an “I told you so” look. Sandy chuckled. “Jesus, I sound like such a noob. Why don’t I tell you about drinking blood?”
“It’s hard to remember, but I was that way with David. I couldn’t get over garlic.”
“Ugh! My first thrall—before the program, no judging—was Italian. I took one sip of his blood, and that metal stabbing of garlic flooded me. It hurt all the way down.”
“Tell me about it. Chip used to work in the grocery, loading string after str
ing of the stuff on the walls. I swear he didn’t smell right until 1957. I know in my mind that it doesn’t actually hurt us, but the smell! Five, six blocks away and I want to run.”
“Seriously, I can’t drive to San Francisco anymore. Between Gilroy, the garlic capitol of the world, and those giant feed lots—I call it Cowschwitz—the whole drive is too overpowering.”
“Speaking of drives…” Jeremiah waited outside as Sandy opened the door for Sophia. “Oh, we’re also going out to the desert next week. He needs help with his…condition.”
“I’ve already said it, but you have the cure.” Sandy waved at Jeremiah, his goofy grin and big eyes shining in the street lamps. “Damn, what do you two even talk about? He’s a puppy to me and I’m only 55.”
“He talks, I listen, and all is right. He’s what’s simple in my life.” She hugged Sandy goodbye. “But, yeah, the boy could read a few books.” Sophia waved, ready to get back to her bedroom.
As nervous as Sandy was about starting her own rehab group, Sophia was convinced it couldn’t compare to her own feelings about the first council meeting. Sure, they had been meeting regularly, but that was informal, more to keep tabs on each other than any sort of ruling body.
But the one thing she couldn’t understand was why it came so easy to Dragos. Yes, he had run New Orleans for three hundred years and was one suave vamp, but did he ever have bad days? Those kind where you’re over it and don’t want to be responsible for everyone? When she thought about it, however, she knew the difference. His word was law; her word would be a strong suggestion backed up by a committee. Her choice to run things in that fashion paled her authority, but she didn’t care. Dragos was a monster. She was never gonna be like him.
The choice to turn VampAmp into the council offices was also rubbing her wrongly. They needed to separate the council activities from any place of business. Any indication that Pamela and her crew were getting better treatment could bite her on the backside at the wrong moment.
But until those issues could be settled, they had more room and were more central than ZLVG. To that end, she had to defer to what was convenient over what was perfect. Like so many things in this world.
