Body Count_SVS Book Two

by D. R. Perry

  “Earlier, the Deep One said something about them dying when they’re out. What’s that about?”

  “The people in those black ones are dead because being without water that long kills them. It takes a couple of days though. It’s how Deep Ones find mates when there aren’t any of our kin in the area.”

  “Oh.” I don’t want to hear more about this but Mother’s not finished.

  “That’s what happened to my brother. He was a Lamb. And they only sent him back after he died. In one of those.”

  I’m about to let her have it with a giant tirade but I can’t. There’s a fresh wave of Deep Ones coming at us. They look smaller and more feral than the others we fought so far but there are more of them this time. I use my anger up, fighting them. And I see the gleam of tears on Mother Pickering’s cheeks as she lights up her hands with green fire and roasts the foes.

  It’s been a long time coming, but I think maybe she’s learning.

  I still won’t forgive her until she apologizes for everything to Frankie and gets help. But that’s not my concern right now. I check and see that all my friends are standing. Frankie’s been behind me the whole time and nobody who traded blows got slimed so far. It’s a good time to check because we’ve fought our way through the pipes and into some new scenery.

  It’s a round room, where the pipelike tunnels all intersect. In some ways, it reminds me of an old-fashioned railway roundhouse. In others, it’s like the rotunda at the Rhode Island State House. Either way, it’s lit up.

  “Come forward and swell our ranks!” The King’s voice is every bit as authoritative as it was during my Trial.

  The bubbles are here, too, far above our heads, afloat at the high ceiling. They’re shiny and bear different hues. None of the ones in here are black. At the center of this circle are Fake Stephanie and also King DeCampo. I think he’s a fake, too, but I can’t be absolutely sure. Both Lazakhars are glowing like stars. The real Stephanie must be on the ceiling. Unfortunately, I can’t reach those bubbles to break some and find out. But we’ve got ranged attackers. Raven’s already taking aim at the one nearest to them. The knife flies through the air but bounces off.

  “Frankly, I’m sick to undeath of waiting.” Fake Stephanie rushes straight at me. I ready my saber but she’s got an honest to God rapier and I can tell she knows how to use it. The best I can hope for is to hold defense long enough for the others to figure out how to free the real Steph and everyone else up there.

  King DeCampo’s locked eyes with Maya. She screams out in wordless challenge. As they rush toward each other, I try not to worry. She’s even more outclassed than I am. I watch the King pop claws of his own, but instead of spikes, his skin covers over with something chitinous. They clash and I’m thanking God that copying a vamp seems to mean copying our abilities. He’s either not able or willing to slime Maya. I hope the same holds true for Stephanie.

  We lock blades and even though my greater height and weight gives me an edge, she’s by far the superior fighter. I try to use leverage in my favor but that effort is only just keeping me from getting myself beheaded. Fortunately, I hear my allies discussing things in the background.

  “Needs magic to break them.” Mother looks at her hands. “Opposite kind.”

  “Why can’t Sparky fly?” Leora’s wringing her hands.

  “He can fly with this.” Frankie holds up the levitation powder. “Is that okay, Sparky?” Yes, my buddy Frankie is asking a lizard for consent. Salamander. Whatever. I’m proud of him, okay?

  “Go for it!” Leora gives Frankie the thumbs-up and with a few shakes and even fewer seconds, the salamander’s rising toward the bubbles on the ceiling.

  Maya and the fake King break their grapple. The fake King sees what’s happening and points a magically glowing finger at Sparky. Maya closes with him again and knocks his arm to one side.

  And the blast hits Leora instead.

  I see my future ward faintly inside the new bubble, fists banging against the side. We’ve got to get her out of there but I don’t know how besides waiting for Sparky to do his thing. I’m barely holding Stephanie back. She’s fighting with a fury that makes little sense unless it’s personal. But I can’t imagine why it would be. Well, there’s no harm in asking.

  “What’s your problem, anyway?”

  “You are, Val.”

  “Hate that name.”

  “Hate your attitude.”

  “Yours is worse.”

  “Restraint is vital to a long existence.”

  “You’re not my sire. You don’t have that kind of experience for real.”

  “Yes, I do. We’re as immortal as you vampires.”

  “She admits it.” I cackle.

  “No.”

  “Not a vamp.” I blow Fake Stephanie a raspberry. It’s a good thing I don’t have to breathe. “Got you!”

  “She regrets turning you.”

  “No shit.” I try to pretend that doesn't hurt. Which is impossible. I convert all the pain to anger.

  The Deep One grunts, blocking the attack that comes after my feint with ease.

  “My attitude sucks.” I strike. “I’m homesick.” Again. “I whine.” This time I feint. She doesn’t take the bait. “And I’m no good at vamping.”

  Fake Stephanie gets past my parries. Her rapier runs me through the gut, which isn’t as bad as it sounds because of the whole being undead thing. But it still hurts like a bastard. She pulls the rapier out and I just keep on going, using method acting techniques to try to ignore the pain.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Maya. She’s looking a bit tattered from grappling the fake King over and over. Basically, they clash, sink claws into each other, then break it off to start the cycle again. It’s brutal. I’d never have survived even one of those.

  Which leads me to wonder why these Deep Ones attacked us they way they did. It’d make sense for the brawler to tackle the stage-trained swordsman and the finesse fighter to take on the brute with no armor plating. And that leads me to think about how the whole body-snatching thing must work.

  Because the person they’re wearing has to be alive in the bubble for them to keep on walking around looking like them. So that must mean there’s a psychic link. And one thing I learned tonight from Maya about those is, they go both ways. So Stephanie and King DeCampo are both up there and they’re doing what they can to help us by controlling the information the Deep Ones get. I decide to send them a message.

  “Hey, Fake Stephanie!”

  “Oh, do shut up and die already, Val.” She tries to run me through again. This time, aiming for the heart.

  I parry her blow. “You know, I like the real Steph. Want her back.”

  “Hogwash.” The fake snorts and tries a slash.

  “No, really. She’s bossy but the girl’s got real class.” I parry. Is it getting easier?

  “You try to get rid of her.” Fake Stephanie lunges.

  “Because she’s too awesome. I feel like a moron around her.” I dodge.

  “She wishes you were Tierney.” This time, Fake Stephanie’s attack is totally obvious.

  “Don’t blame her one bit.” I smile as I block. It’s working.

  “You hate her.” The fake snarls and rushes at me.

  “No way. Love her like a sister.” I just stand there, smiling. Because I just saw the fake’s eyes change color from storm gray to sky blue. It’s almost over.

  Fake Stephanie drops the rapier, jaw slack. Her hands twitch. Something drops from the ceiling. No. Someone.

  And before I know it, the real Stephanie is sweeping up the dropped rapier. She uses it to behead her double in one fell swoop. Told you she was awesome.

  The head reverts back to its Deep One appearance before it hits the wet concrete. Stephanie is about to put down the rapier, seemingly oblivious to everything else going around us.

  “Heads up!” One of Raven’s knives flies past us. I manage to track it and see it bounce off the fake King’s hide. Still, he
hisses.

  “Oh my.” Stephanie blinks and casts her gaze around the room. Then, she looks at my saber. “You need to get up there.”

  “But Maya—”

  “I’ll help her. Your sword’s got magic on it.”

  And she’s right. And without that red and black energy blazing along the metal edge, I’d have died for sure. Baba Yaga’s making good on her end of the bargain so at least something is going right.

  I sprint toward Frankie and skid to a stop, almost smacking into him. “Hit me with the flying powder, buddy.”

  “Okay.”

  But just as he does, I feel a trickle of something that’s too thick to be water on my leg. I look down. My right leg is covered with slime. The splatter pattern makes me think Fake Stephanie got me with it when she was going down. A parting shot.

  I open my mouth, about to tell Frankie never mind and hand my sword off for someone else to go up in the air. But it’s too late. He’s sprinkled me seven times already. So, there I am flying in a glorified wastewater treatment hub with bad luck slime all over my pants.

  And I thought the undead life would be eternally boring.

  Flailing around in the air sucks. I don’t know how birds do it, honestly. Probably without bad luck slime. I see Sparky dog paddling. Or salamander paddling. If the little guy is trying to get through all that space and break bubbles, the least I can do is help. And Leora’s in one of these. I take a swing at one with the saber. And it hits, cutting through like butter.

  The occupant falls like a star. It’s Leora.

  “Catch her!”

  And the last person I expect responds to my call for help. Mother Pickering. She pauses in her spell-casting to do it, too. And I realize that the whole time, she’s been holding off hordes of Deep Ones, keeping them away from Maya and me as we battled the body doubles.

  Leora crashes down on her, and they both go down in a tumble. Because of this, a Deep One finds a way through and slimes them both. Mother pushes Leora away and gets swarmed by a mob of angry Deep Ones. She doesn’t stand a chance and there’s nothing I can do.

  But Leora’s got an ace up her sleeve. She grasps her charm bracelet and calls out for Baba Yaga.

  In the meantime, I slash open another bubble. It’s no one I recognize but they sure look weirded out. I don’t blame them for hiding in a corner until this is all over. Sparky pops another one. And this time, I definitely recognize the person inside, who must have gotten snatched that very night.

  “Kayleigh!” I call out to my ex. “Heads up!”

  She doesn’t land on her feet exactly. More like on all fours. But the hunter recovers fast and does what her daddy trained her for. Taking out monsters. She’s got guns, so having her join the fray doesn’t turn the tides of this battle but it makes up for Mother Pickering getting slimed.

  I take a stab at another bubble but I miss this time. Stupid slime. Looking down, I see that Maya’s flagging. Stephanie’s been helping but my would-be girlfriend is just no match for even the fake King DeCampo. Well, there’s a good reason he’s the Vampire King of Providence, after all. Even his copy kicks serious ass.

  The bubble I was trying to get open comes in range again. I slash but don’t have time to look because a scream from below pierces me in the heart. I have to see what’s going on down there.

  It’s Frankie. He’s slapping post-its on a gaggle of Deep Ones who broke through while Mother was down and before Kayleigh joined the fray. Leora’s there with backup, swinging what looks like Baba’s wooden spoon. It glows with red and white light and decimates every enemy in front of her. The hut’s here too, now. And so is the person who fell from my last bubble.

  It’s Father Pickering, and he looks to be in rough shape. That bubble I got him out of was turning brown, too. Which probably means he was almost dead. It also means the guy I dealt with back at the house was a Deep One and we left Levi and Sarah with him. Of course. That’s how they knew to look for Mother’s van. And why there are more bubbles up here than I expected. As Father falls to earth, I scream out, “incoming!”

  Baba’s hut spins, the motion carrying it sideways just in time to break Father’s fall on its thatched roof. The poor man sits up and the first thing he sees is his wife, covered in slime and fighting, anyway. He looks up at me, then points to two new looking bubbles.

  I get the message and slash at one. Sparky understands too, and he has more success. The first bubble bursts and Sarah sails through the air. She keeps her head and uses her magic to push off the ground so she lands gently. Sarah Pickering sees her mother and screams, defiant as an eagle.

  Jets of sea-foam light shoot from her hand, blasting with more power than anyone else in the room. She’s still screaming as she walks forward. Deep Ones scatter in her wake. Sarah’s a prodigal talent in the magic department. But all she wants right now is her mother as dysfunctional as that lady is.

  I know from long experience as the stable friend that loving someone, especially a parent who is that toxic is only going to hurt in the long run. But you can’t tell a person in the throes of that kind of love what it is and how to manage it. It’s like with addiction; only the affected can effect their own escape. So I let them be and try for another bubble.

  This time, it works. I free Levi. The kid touches ground in an unprotected patch.

  And now, Frankie is screaming because this is his worst nightmare come to life. Levi's in exactly the danger Frankie sacrificed sanity or escape to keep him out of. He’s sprinting toward his brother, getting in front, between him and the Deep Ones. His hands are empty, too. I want to be down there but it’s no use. I forgot how Esther turns this stuff off. And even without the levitating powder doing its thing, I’ve been slimed. I’d just klutz out.

  Leora throws herself in front of Frankie. She screams out for Sparky, who’s changed into humanoid form in mid-air next to me. He holds out his hands but their glow is still building. He won’t have his blast ready in time.

  Raven acts. They just stride up, full of purpose and the promise of doing major harm. Nobody else sees but I have a special vantage point. It’s all bluff, even more so than back at the Pickering house. Raven’s out of throwing knives. They’re unarmed, defenseless, but willing to give up eternity to protect their fellow Lambs from yet another set of abuses.

  My face is wet, my eyes so bleary I almost don’t see Mother and Father Pickering give each other that look again. You know, the one that made me sick before. Mother’s got her magic back, but it looks paler now, faint and depowered. And Father’s as unarmed as Raven and in twice as rough shape. I see Sarah’s mouth form the words “Mother, no,” but if she stops casting she’ll fall, and she knows it. That kid has a tactical mind.

  The Deep ones meet them and the couple is overwhelmed. I realize they’ll never get a chance to make amends or apologize.

  But no. I understand. This final act is their apology. Sacrifice.

  The betrayal made by former loyalists incenses the Deep Ones to new heights. Their bloodlust is tangible, even from up here. Frankie, Levi, and Leora cling to each other. Raven stands in front of them like an eternal shield. Mother and Father Pickering get torn to pieces. I glance down at Maya and Stephanie, horrified to find that they’re on the cusp of suffering a similar fate.

  Something bumps my arm. I turn my head. It’s the last bubble. My sword slices through it with ease and the real King DeCampo lands on the ground in a superhero pose, the back of his suit tearing as he flexes his muscles. He roars like a lion and smites down his double with one clawed hand, cleaving the fake's head in two.

  The hordes of Deep Ones stop in their tracks. Of course their leader took on the guise of ours. I should have known. And if I’d acted sooner, the Pickerings would all be alive.

  Guilt washes over me, tainting all my senses. It muffles Raven’s words as they negotiate new terms for the Pickerings so the family won’t lose their magic. I even hear them all agree that Lambs must consent and any family member can choose
to act as one, not only those with no magic.

  And the guilt reddens my sight as I gaze down on Stephanie and King DeCampo, standing closer together than I’d ever have expected to see them get. Their Lazakhars glow on the ground where they fell during my duel. She picks them up, and he sets hers around her neck. Stephanie returns the favor.

  Something dips in the air at my left. It’s Sparky. He’s starting to drift downward. I hope that means I’ll start descending soon, too. Except I already am down, in the emotional sense. There’s nothing I can do about it, either. I’d talk to a priest, but that’s impossible. And the weight on my heart is so heavy I’m absolutely certain nothing can lift it, not even if I unlive for a million years.

  When I touch ground again, my first impulse is to curl up and stay there. Vampires have the ability to sleep for ages, waking in new times. And in that moment, there’s nothing I’d rather do.

  A hand drops on my shoulder.

  “Tino, come on.” The warm voice reminds me of waking up on a Saturday morning in my old bedroom. “It’s time to go home.”

  “I don’t deserve to, Maya.” Yeah, it’s her. She’s the only one here who has that kind of effect on me.

  “We’re all responsible. Anyone could have jumped in and saved them.”

  “I was the only one doing nothing.”

  “Nu-uh, mister.” I turn, see the salamander kid tugging on my sleeve. “Me too.”

  And he’s right. I don’t want him to be. And he’s only a kid. I could just ignore him. But someone else won’t let me. A pair of shoes, scuffed all to Hell and clearly second-hand, appear in my field of vision. The socks on the feet inside them come from my own wardrobe.

  “Hey, Tino.” It’s Frankie. “This really smart dude told me a thing. It changed my life. You wanna hear it?”

  “No.”

  “Well I don’t care. I’m gonna say it, anyway. You’re not alone.”

  And I can’t stand it. My head sinks into my hands, shoulders heaving with sobs as blood tears stain my face and palms. Because I should be alone. Because I think that’s what I deserve. But if people only ever got what they think they deserved, if they treated people according to their worst experiences the world would be Hell. If no one acted with compassion and mercy, everybody would be alone for a darker eternity than any vampire ever endured. And yeah, both of the oddball kids are right. I can’t argue with the truth, so I don’t.