DarkWalker

by John Urbancik

  Lisa scrambled forward, finding Nick’s fallen pistol. She’d never shot a gun in her life. It was heavy in her hands, both hot and cold.

  Nick was on top, but on his back. The creature squeezed, and its mouth went for his neck. Nick wrenched himself forward, avoiding teeth, and broke its grip long enough to roll away.

  Lisa fired, point blank, into the vampire’s face. It exploded in a spray of bone and brain. Teeth scattered on the floor.

  The sound was deafening. The force of the gun threw Lisa’s hand up and back; she was surprised to have hit it, even from less than a yard away. The creature slumped, arms flailing in the spot its head had occupied, and then dropped.

  For a moment, the room was still. Both vampires were dead, or re-dead. Lisa lowered the pistol. Its acrid smell filled the room. Her arm burned, her face stung, her back ached.

  Lisa hesitated. She’d never killed anything, never fought for her life before—or someone else’s life. She didn’t enjoy it, no, but she felt just a little more powerful. She could do it. If she had to. Like she’d done just now.

  However, these vampires were nothing like the one that had snatched her lover. They were no closer to finding Jack Harlow.

  Nick managed to get to his hands and knees; Lisa helped him the rest of the way up. He swayed, relying on her for support, and staggered toward the fallen vampires.

  “Not done,” he said.

  He withdrew a heavy duty lighter from an interior pocket in his jacket, and shrugged free of Lisa’s hold. He moved slowly, wincing as he knelt next to the nearest vampire. He leaned forward, ignited the lighter, and lowered the flame to the pulpy remains of its head.

  Fire flashed through its body, brightening the room. Thick smoke rose, but briefly; the fire was out as soon as it started. The new burnt odor was barely noticeable over the old.

  In the same manner, Nick burned the second vampire.

  Lisa closed her eyes. The more she saw, the less afraid she was of seeing the demon again on her eyelid screen. The hellish realm remained strong, but she knew now she wouldn’t slip helplessly to it every time she rested—even if she had no coffee to ground her.

  She shook all over. Anxiety, fear, exhilaration, it was hard to pinpoint why.

  “That,” Nick said, grinning, “was fun.”

  “You’re a mess,” she told him.

  “I’m hiding it well.”

  “This was the wrong place.” Lisa said.

  He didn’t answer. She opened her eyes again, glanced around the room, wishing they’d been able to end it here and now. Hadn’t that been tough enough, without having to do it again when they found Jack? How many such creatures would they have to fight their way through to get to him? This wasn’t a video game, not a movie. There were no levels, each harder than the last, until they reached the ultimate bad guy (the demon?). Defeating these two had brought them no closer to their goal.

  Nick removed his shirt, revealing muscles she hadn’t quite expected, and tried to look over his shoulder and down his back. “I was hit,” he said.

  Lisa stepped closer, looking at the round wound half way down his back.

  “Is it a scratch?” he asked. “Bite?”

  “Neither, I don’t think,” Lisa said.

  Nick sighed, relieved, and pulled his shirt back on. “Stabbed?”

  “Maybe,” Lisa said. “I’m not an expert.”

  “I think it got me with my own stake. It was sticking out of its chest when it grabbed me. I’m lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Lisa asked.

  “If it had been a bite, you would have to kill me. A scratch, I might be okay, but maybe not.” Nick paused. “They didn’t get you, did they?”

  “She slapped me.”

  “Break the skin?” Nick asked.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  After a moment’s silence, Lisa asked, “Is it always like this?”

  Nick didn’t answer. Instead, he retrieved the two stakes from the ground and returned them to his jacket. Then he held out his hand for the gun.

  Lisa gave it to him. Her arm felt enormously lighter, but empty and weak.

  “Still want to search?” Nick asked.

  Lisa glared. “Damn right, I do.”

  “Good.” Nick smiled, shoving the gun under his belt. “This may be a long day.”

  3.

  Nick Hunter hurt.

  He wouldn’t let Lisa know quite how much, but the stake had been devastating. He was lucky it hadn’t done any real damage. Instead, it left a pain that stretched half a foot in every direction—across his skin, up his spine, and into his gut. Every step hurt.

  Under normal circumstances, with a wound like this, he’d find a motel room, sleep for a day, and eat painkillers for breakfast. But he was on a mission now. He didn’t quite understand how he’d gotten drawn into it, but no longer cared. He liked having a goal more specific than kill another beast. It made him feel useful. Necessary. Less like an expendable anonymous shadow looking for a quick hit. He missed having a partner.

  He liked Lisa. Liked the way she worked. She was a hunter, regardless of what she’d been before. He’d have to train her, teach her, show her things. They’d have to trust each other intimately if they planned to make a habit of this. Lives were at stake—more than just their own. She was fit, and fearless, and she’d seen things Nick had never seen. He wouldn’t mind Lisa as a partner.

  One step at a time, Nick walked, staggered, or swayed. The pain lessened. He concentrated, instead, on the destination. The quest. Neither hope nor fear had been part of his life, not since Diane died; but here and now, he felt a little of both.

  After the first structure, they checked the other two. Both were just as burned out, torn apart inside and out, but there were no other beasts.

  The charred smell lingered in his nostrils. He had to get rid of it. He also had to wash. The blood of a vampire was often black but sometimes like human blood, and he’d been drenched with too much to avoid unwanted attention.

  Lisa waited outside while he broke into the bathroom on the side of a gas station. The station itself was closed down and abandoned, its windows boarded and signs smashed. Ready, perhaps, for future renovation, no one had touched it for months. Two restrooms were around the side. He hoped water still ran through the pipes, but would have been satisfied with enough paper towels or toilet tissue to wipe off most of the gunk.

  Water trickled, warm, out of the faucet. No pressure, but he cupped his hands underneath and cleared his face. After wringing out his shirt, he examined his wound in the mirror.

  It didn’t look as bad as it felt, barely more than a pinhole. He washed it and tested its depth. His whole fingernail went in, sending ripples of pain as far as the nape of his neck. Okay, so it was worse than it looked—deeper, anyhow. Damned good stakes.

  He rinsed himself as best he could, drying with crumpled newspaper. He moved slowly, giving his pain some time to subside. Though not enough to stop him, it would slow him down. That could be deadly.

  He pushed out of the bathroom. “Your turn.”

  Lisa screwed her face, apparently dreading the thought, but went inside anyway.

  They were not far from downtown, maybe five blocks west, and Nick easily saw the tops of those bank buildings. There were seven, maybe ten of them. Not many, but they provided plenty of places for beasts to hide.

  Wandering on this part of town would attract attention. The few people on the streets—it was still early—stared as if he did not belong. He didn’t. He didn’t feel endangered, but conspicuous.

  4.

  The rain started as a trickle.

  Lightning cracked the sky. The rain intensified, even as Lisa Sparrow emerged from the restroom on the side of the abandoned gas station. Thunder crashed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  1.

  First, he heard thunder. It rattled his bones, echoed.

  Slowly, Jack Harlow opened his eyes. His throat was sore, his head groggy, his vi
sion blurry. He rubbed his neck, trying to figure out what he was looking at. The city stretched below him—far below. He was at the edge of a window, in no danger of falling out, sitting on a rather comfortable leather chair. He was in an office.

  He turned, slowly, spinning in the chair so he could see the rest of the room. Besides the window and the chair, there was only a single, heavy wood desk. A few electrical sockets lined the walls. Fluorescent bulbs hung, dark, in the ceiling. All light came from outside, and didn’t amount to much.

  The carpet was flat and blue, the walls gray, the chair black, and the door closed. He didn’t know where he was, exactly, and couldn’t even be sure he wasn’t in a different city. He didn’t know Orlando that well; but he did see lakes, trees, other buildings, and even houses through the window, which seemed right.

  He was neither bound nor dead, surprisingly. The last thing he remembered was a kiss . . . no, a bite . . . a lick? A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. He didn’t want to stand, but didn’t like the idea of waiting.

  Outside, it was daytime—stormy, but after sunrise. He’d survived the night. The vampire might be asleep somewhere. She’d neither killed nor turned him.

  Rain splattered the window. He was thirsty. Before Jack could gather the strength to stand, the office door opened. The hall behind was dark, as well. The vampire stepped out of those shadows carrying a Styrofoam cup.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” she said.

  “I know you,” Jack said, squinting, still not able to see clearly. Petite, with short black hair, Asian eyes and skin. He’d seen her the other night in the club.

  “We’ve met, yes,” she said. “I’m Jia Li.” She put the cup, water, on the desk, and then jumped up there herself. She bent her knees so she didn’t tower over him, but looked down nonetheless.

  She was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. The eyes cinched it: so light a brown they were almost amber, with yellow eye shadow making a thin mask that stretched to both sides and accentuated the already narrow, almond shape. She smiled, her lips a shade darker than her skin. She showed a lot of skin, dressed in form-fitting black and an extremely short skirt. She was thin, subtly curved, and enticing. Of course, she was a vampire, a particular type; she was designed to seduce every sense.

  “How’s your neck?” she asked.

  “Sore,” Jack said. He felt no bite marks, not even the slash of the were-bat’s claws.

  “It ought to be,” she said. “It was ripped open when I found you.” She smiled, setting one hand on the desk in front of her; she looked like a cat about to pounce. She tightened every muscle in her legs and arms, thrust her chest forward and down, elongating her neck, revealed glimpses of the hair between her legs. “I really couldn’t resist,” she said. “I had to taste you. I needed it.”

  “Needed?”

  “It’s like sex,” Jia Li said. She spoke slowly, softly. “Drinking is very intimate, and sometimes disappointing. But you . . . you were extremely satisfying.” She licked her upper lip. “I’m very particular when I choose a partner.”

  “Victim,” Jack corrected.

  She shook her head once, touched his lips with her warm finger. “Partner,” she said again, “though somewhat more like the black widow, I suppose. I’ve never heard a complaint.” She lowered her voice. “Not even from you.”

  She was close, painfully close; a wild, exciting scent drifted from her skin, and even her breath. Her finger lingered on his mouth. It quickened Jack’s heart. “But if you died,” she said, “I couldn’t enjoy you again. And I so very much want to taste you, in every way.” She slid her hand across his cheek and behind his neck, pulling his face toward hers. “Oh, I admit, there’s a strong urge to snap your neck, rip open your throat, gorge myself in a short-lived orgy. But I’m a patient girl. And so lonely.”

  She kissed him, lightly, on the lips, with a pure, soft lust. Every fiber of Jack responded, though he didn’t move. His mind jumbled, and he tried to focus on something else, someone else. He was too weak.

  “I hope you never die,” Jia Li said. “I’ll kill for you, lover. To have you again even as a human woman might. To know you like you’ve never been known. Eternity is not mine to give. But for as long as you last, I can savor every delectable minute, can I not?”

  Jack tried to move, but couldn’t even look away from her.

  “Do you know what it’s like, to be a god?” Jia Li asked. “To walk among humanity for a thousand years, never aging, never tiring, never growing weak.”

  “The sun,” Jack said.

  She smiled. Gorgeously. “Overrated.”

  “Vampires die,” Jack said.

  “At the hands of your hunter? Your girlfriend?” Jia Li asked, chuckling. “I am not worried. And don’t you fret, either, love, we are safe here. Protected.”

  “From what?” Jack asked.

  “You have walked in the dark all your short life,” Jia Li said. “You know what’s out there, or at least a small part of it. You’ve witnessed, first-hand, things that most would die for seeing. This, I think, is what makes you so wonderfully delicious. And the electricity, when I touched you that first time, in the bar, when I knew I couldn’t have you.” She shuddered. “You left me breathless. And now, how fortunate am I, I can share with you everything, give you all I am, until you can take no more.” She raised an eyebrow. “And then, you will give me all you are, all you have, until you’re drained of every fluid, every ounce of strength, until you cannot even open your eyes. Then you’ll sleep. Rest. Recover. And then we can do it all over again.”

  “I have nothing to give you,” Jack said.

  Jia Li laughed. She shifted her weight backwards, still balancing on the desk (on toes and palm), and looked down at the cup. “Drink,” she said. “You need water.”

  Jack looked at the cup, a regular, ordinary cup you might find in any office kitchen.

  “I’m not going to poison you,” Jia Li said.

  He lifted the cup. The water was cold, refreshing. He drank it in two gulps, then dropped the cup on the floor; he didn’t have the strength to return it to the desk.

  “I have had many lovers,” Jia Li said, “but few in the style in which you’re familiar. Like I said, the drinking is orgasmic for me. Euphoric. I have to be careful not to lose myself; I am not indestructible. I can forget myself. And right now, here with you, I have never been in more danger of losing my senses. Never. You’re like no other lover I’ve had.” She leaned forward again, whispering. “Why do you think I want to keep you?”

  Jack inhaled deeply, trying to find energy in the air. “I won’t be willing.”

  “No?” Jia Li kissed him again, warm and moist. Her tongue slid gently across his lips, then between them. She held his head in one hand, pulling him lightly; he could not resist. It was heavenly. Mind-numbing. His whole body craved to share this kiss.

  When he tried to picture Lisa through clouded thoughts.

  Lightning played across the sky outside. Thunder rumbled. Rain poured. Jia Li’s kiss continued. She drew his tongue into her own mouth, closing her lips over it gently, caressing it with her teeth. Jack had no will anymore.

  Jia Li ended the kiss, pulling back even as Jack strained forward. She held his head, though, and kept his mouth an inch from her own. “Are you willing now?” she whispered. “I really do want you to live with me for as long as you can. I’m just afraid you don’t have much time left.”

  Jack’s head swam, worse now than before. He couldn’t see straight, could barely put two thoughts together; it was hard enough to react to what was happening, and even in that he failed. But he managed to grasp this thread. “What do you mean, not much time?”

  Jia Li shrugged. “You’re the watcher, you tell me. Those things in the street, the demon and were-bat . . . I’ve seen all those things before, don’t look so surprised. It takes a powerful demon to control that much at once. And the rats, did you see them? I hate rats.”

  “You’re a vampire,” Jack told her.
/>
  “I’m a girl,” she said. “A child, to some, but old enough . . .” Her grin broadened. “It’s past dawn. May have been your last. But I imagine whatever you did to get that demon after you, he won’t give up because I got you first.”

  “I did nothing,” Jack said. “Never saw it before tonight.”

  “This morning,” Jia Li corrected him. “Doesn’t matter, you’re attracting things. Just look around. There’s a reason I took you here instead of home. I have a great view of the city—half the city from this window, the rest of it elsewhere. I keep these offices for a number of reasons. I never thought I’d use them as a stronghold.”

  “Stronghold?” Jack asked.

  “It’ll take a long time for the rats to climb twenty-seven stories,” she said. “Same with the roaches. They keep this building pretty clean. Anything else, I’ll see it coming.”

  “You mean to keep me,” Jack said.

  “Exactly,” Jia Li said. “If I must fight for you, I will. But a demon . . . those are big, you know. Nasty. Not exactly going to turn and run when I go Boo.”

  “You’d risk your own life?” Jack asked.

  “You’re unique,” Jia Li told him, though he wasn’t sure if she said it or if he dreamt it. “You’re a power.” She narrowed her eyes, intensifying the effect of the make-up mask around them. “I absolutely love power.”

  2.

  The storm raged. Rain fell harder. Wind whipped more ferociously. Clouds hid the sun so well it might as well have been midnight.

  Dark cloaked the city, the county, the countryside. The weathermen said conditions were ripe for tornados. Expect the rain to continue into Saturday. Possible flooding. Stay home, they warned, if you can. Stay dry.

  3.

  The search felt long, endless, and excruciatingly slow.

  By noon, Lisa Sparrow’s legs ached. That was hours ago. Constant rain had pruned her skin. She shivered, cried silently, and followed Nick through abandoned homes and ruinous motels.