Looking to the room, three angry Vampires looked back at me. I grabbed the rope and tested some weight on it. Everything held. I smiled and flipped them the bird. "Tell Maccus that worse pieces of shit have tried to kill me, and I'm still standing."
In hindsight, that may have been something to shout out over my shoulder once I was off the ledge and away from the angry Vampires. Charlie, spiteful little bastard that he'd become, lost it. He charged onto the balcony. Veronica and his mother both tried to grab hold of him, but when they got their hands on him, his burned skin just sloughed off in bloody sheets of charred flesh.
He flew into the air and plowed into me. I had just enough time and presence of mind to roll my shoulder right before he hit me. We both went over in a tangle of flailing limbs and screams. Charlie's body billowed smoke and burst into flames mid-air. I twisted through the air and barely managed to keep hold of my makeshift rope. His claws sliced into my jacket and scraped along the plates of my vest.
The cloth went taught, and my right arm nearly ripped out of the socket as I flipped around, letting go and falling into a snowy bush. I heard several snaps as I collided with the ground. I was pretty confident that the sound wasn't my bones breaking. I didn’t have time to check though.
Cursing, I rolled up to my feet, stumbling out of the bushes. Charlie had landed a few yards away. He was writhing in the snowy grass, red flames erupting from his mouth and eyes like road flares. His screams were cut off as he either ran out of air or vocal cords. I could hear more angry Vampires above me and decided it was time to get going.
I hobbled my way to the truck. Carl was standing next to it, eyes wide and staring at Charlie’s burning body.
"I told you to stay in the truck!”
He looked away from the burning corpse and looked at me.
"Get in!" I shouted.
I yanked the handle and collapsed in the front seat. Carl didn't need much more encouragement. He took one last look at the balcony and got in the car.
Fumbling with the keys, Carl was breathing heavy. He managed to get the right one in the ignition and the car rumbled to life. He popped it into gear and stomped the gas. The tires spun on the ice before catching, lurching us forward before skidding again, the back end whipping out behind us. With the bed of the truck empty, we slid our way down the driveway.
"Ease into it," I said. "You keep stomping the pedal, and we'll never get out of here."
He nodded and almost followed what I felt were pretty simple directions. He pushed the gas, a little more gently than before, and we proceeded to lurch forward.
Once we cleared the gate and got on the road, he had a better handle on it. I stuck my head out the window and looked up. The cloud coverage was rolling in, and the sun was all but blotted out by the ominous grey storm clouds.
"We gotta get inside," I said.
“Can we go back to the apartment?” He asked.
“Unless you got somewhere else you want to go.”
Carl shook his head. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. I needed to kill Al and get the hell out of here already.
23
We were a block away from the apartment when I noticed the black SUV parked on the street. The tint on the windows was black as night, showing a mirrored reflection of the cloudy sky and falling now. I felt my ass clench as I looked in the side mirror and saw a second one tailing us.
“Dammit.”
Carl glanced my way. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get out of this.”
“I wouldn’t be too quick to jump to that,” I said. “We got company.”
“What?” Carl turned around to look behind us instead of using the mirrors. Smooth.
“SUV behind us. We just passed a second one on the street.”
“Could it be a coincidence?”
“Not with the week I’ve been having.”
Sure enough, as we turned the corner, a third black SUV was parked up on the curb in front of our building. Mr. White stood in front of the door. Wallace and the blond lady, still wearing her slate grey pantsuit, flanked him. I had a moment of hoping that they’d been out there in the cold waiting for us for awhile. In actuality though, the other SUVs had probably radioed ahead and let him know. Maybe they’d had to scramble to get out and tripped on the ice. That would have been nice, someone else other than me falling on my ass in the snow.
“What do we do?” Carl asked.
I gave a thought to running, but Carl drives like a grandma. There was no way we’d outrun them, not in his beat-up Toyota pick up.
“Pull in the lot,” I said. “Park like normal.”
“I’ll keep the engine running,” Carl said. “If anything happens, I’ll try and get away.”
I shook my head. “You’ll only end up getting yourself killed. The roads are slicker than puppy shit, and you’ll be as likely to crash into someone else as you are to get gunned down by the suits.”
“Are you sure?”
“Carl, for once, please shut up and just listen to me. I’ll do all the talking. You just stay there and keep quiet.”
“Alright.” He said, pulling into the lot.
I shook my head, holding back any comments I had about him saying something after being told to be quiet.
I slammed the door as I got out, trying to make a lot of noise. Maybe a neighbor would see and call the cops if we got abducted. Though, most of our neighbors were idiots, and they all thought I was a jerk. I hoped that maybe if they also took Carl that someone in the building would call the fuzz. People liked Carl.
Frozen snow crunched beneath the layer of fresh powder as we walked up to the front of the building.
“Remember, I do all the talking.”
“Sounds good.”
Again with the talking.
“Mr. Stearns. How good of you to join us. We were hoping to talk with you and Mr. Rodriguez.”
I didn’t let them see me flinch when they used Carl’s real name. They’d gotten his prints somewhere. Probably from the coffee shop. It would be easy. Send in an undercover agent with gloves on, buy a coffee and then pull prints from the cup after Carl made it. That’s how I would have played it.
I swallowed the bile creeping up my throat and put on a smile. I couldn’t let them see me sweat. White, like Prufrock, was a predator. You had to meet with force with force when it comes to predators.
“You think it’s gonna take long?” I asked. “I don’t have DVR, and I was hoping to get to watch my stories this afternoon. Someone just came out of a coma to find they had their brain transplanted into another person's body and someone else had been living as them for the past three years.”
White was unfazed. He stood, still smiling. “Sure. You can stay here and answer questions if you would like Mr. Stearns. We will be taking Mr. Rodriguez with us though. We have some questions regarding an incident involving some destruction of property in San Francisco last year. It seems there are some questions regarding what caused the damage. Skipping town, crossing state lines, and changing his name. One might think he was trying to get off the hook for some sort of liability.”
What White hadn’t said was that I couldn’t stop them from taking Carl. He was banking on me either coming in peacefully if my friend was going in or doing something stupid to give him an excuse to shoot me.
The SUV that had been following us crunched in the snow as it rolled up onto the curb. Two more agents got out. Both were dressed in black, but one was a younger kid with Dumbo ears and a hand that was shaking, thinking about going for the holster on his right hip. I looked around, doing the math. It wasn’t good.
Wallace was a killer, plain and simple. He had the look, he had the stance, and he had the grim demeanor of a man who enjoyed killing and had been denied a chance to do any lately. The blonde looked like she had a stick up her ass, but she was tall, athletic and wearing mirrored aviators like she was on the set of CHIPs. The younger agent was my best bet. He looked jumpy, which meant he might just shoot me in the back fo
r no reason. It also meant that he wasn’t on his game. That could mean I could get around him, use him as a shield and take his gun.
White still had the big Smith and Wesson six gun on his hip. From ten feet away, there was a chance it could hit the younger agent in the chest and just keep going right through him. I didn’t relish the idea of taking a .357 slug to the chest, even if it had already gone through someone else first. I’d seen Wallace’s Glock the first time we’d met. He seemed like a 10mm type. Running my eyes over them, I didn’t think they were wearing vests at all. If they were, it was soft armor, and I could punch through it with some 12 gauge slugs. Of course that involved getting to the KSG, which was three floors up and down the hall in our apartment, assuming they hadn’t already swept the place.
“Shall we?” White asked, taking a step toward me.
I looked at Carl and realized any plans of fighting were doomed. Best case scenario, he dropped to the ground and stayed out of the way. Worst case he either stood there stupid, or he tried to help me by rushing one of the agents. The odds of him getting shot in the crossfire regardless of what he did were too high to risk anything.
“Mind if I get a drink first?” I asked. “Been working on some cold brew for two days. Wanted to try it out, see what all the fuss is about.”
White shook his head. “I’m afraid not. When we arrive at the office, you’ll have to try the batch of Luwak coffee I just picked up. I had it flown in from Indonesia last night.”
“What?” I asked, unsure what he was talking about.
“If you prefer, I have an excellent nitro cold brew as well. I had the beans flown in from Blue Mountain Jamaica. I roast them myself. Trust me when I tell you, that it is indeed worth the hype.”
“Sounds great,” Carl said.
I moved in-between Carl and the Coffee addicted bureaucrat. “I told you to shut up,” I said, talking out of the side of my mouth.
Carl looked at me. “Deckland, it’s hopeless. If they want to take us, we can’t stop them. We might as well go with them.”
He was right, and I hated it.
“Fine,” I said, looking back to White. “But I want to try that nitro brew. If it’s garbage, I’m gonna be pissed.”
“Excellent. Now, we will need to frisk both of your first. Standard procedure.”
“Yea yea,” I muttered, holding my arms out to my sides and turning around. “I want Wallace to do it. He looks like he has a delicate touch.”
I’m pretty sure I heard someone snicker at that. It might have been me. I’m not entirely sure, but I promise you, someone laughed. From the way that Wallace man-handled me during the frisking, I was pretty sure he hadn’t been the one to laugh. He pulled off my fanny pack, undid my ankle holster and found the various other things I keep on my person at any given time. The fourth agent, the driver of the SUV that had been following us, gave me a look, pulling his sunglasses down in disbelief. I’m very serious about my EDC.
The blonde frisked Carl, which seems unfair. He was too afraid and too pious even to enjoy it. When they were done, Wallace opened up the door for us and gestured. I got in Carl following after me. When we were closed in, and seat belted up, White got in the front seat and passed us a pair of black bags for our heads.
“You know the drill.” He said.
My asshole finally released as he passed back the black fabric hoods. Carl looked at me, shaken and with a hint of wetness in his eyes. He was terrified. I could have jumped for joy if I hadn’t been belted into the fancy paddy wagon. I grinned at White and pulled the hood down.
“What kind of detergent do you guys use on these?” I asked, through the bag. “It’s lovely. Is that lavender?”
No one answered. I didn’t care though. I was wearing a bag on my head. They were driving me to their secret base, and I was wearing a black bag so I couldn’t see anything. You don’t do that if you plan on just offing, someone. The noose wasn’t around my neck just yet.
24
I was back in the small interrogation room. This time I had Wallace, the Lady agent, and another older looking guy. Even with the grey hair in his goatee, he still looked like he was solid muscle. He had a nasty looking scar peeking out of his collar that had to have come from a chemical or electrical burn. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, but he had the look of one of those grizzled old veterans who’d spent time as a POW, and it just made them pissed and dangerous.
They had the decency not to put me in cuffs. I sat with my hands on the table, palms down and in plain view. I didn’t want anyone getting jumpy and shooting me in the back.
Mr. White came in eventually, after taking his sweet time. He had his little French press with him, and I had a feeling he’d stopped to boil some water. I bet he used a tea kettle and not a hotpot like a normal person. He set the French press on the ground and checked his watch. He kept his eyes on it for what had to be twenty seconds before pressing the plunger down. He poured some of the steaming black coffee into a glass mug. He pushed the French press out of the way. He looked up to me as he did. He gestured to the remaining dregs in the press.
I shook my head.
“Suit yourself.”
He took a delicate sip and nodded to himself. “There’s nothing quite like the first sip of a great cup of coffee.”
“I preferred single malt myself.”
He ignored my comment, setting his mug down. “We need to talk Mr. Stearns, or whatever it is your real name is.”
“You expect me to believe your real name is Mr. White?”
He smiled, giving me that wolfish leer. “I thought we had an understanding when we last talked. I feel like you sat in that very chair and told me that you wouldn’t interfere with our investigation, that you wouldn’t return to Sanctuary, and that you had nothing to do with Maccus Dunn.” He stopped for another sip.
“So you’d imagine how surprised I was informed of you coming out of the Sanctuary, with Mr. Rodrigeuz in tow, discharging a weapon that you no doubt acquired illegally, and killing at least one individual. You then fled the scene of the crime with a woman who was not seen entering Sanctuary with you.”
He blew on the surface of his coffee and tested the temperature. He wanted to see me squirm. I sat there, hiding my sweating palms and playing it cool.
“You get it on tape?” I asked.
He smiled. “We did actually.”
It was worth a shot.
“What do you want?” I asked. “You obviously brought us here for something. I was wearing the bag over my head for a reason. If you were going to just kill me, you would have had Wallace try it already.”
I over pronounced try when I said it.
“I have some questions for you. First, I want to know what you were doing at Sanctuary.”
I weighed my options. I didn’t see any harm in telling him that I was there for Veronica. Again, lies of omission are the best.
“Like I told you the first time, I was hired to find a girl. Her younger brother was under the impression that she’d been kidnapped. When I started looking into her, I found out that she liked to hang out at Sanctuary. When I was there the first time, I asked one of the bartenders to give me a call if he saw her.
I got the call last night, so I went down there to make sure she was okay and try and convince her to go back home.” White cocked an eyebrow at me. I raised my hands.
“Yea yea, I know, I wasn’t supposed to go back, but I didn’t get paid if she didn’t go home. I’m not made of money you know.”
More nodding and coffee drinking. “So you were only there to find this girl? What was her name again? Samantha?”
“Veronica Owens.”
“Find her?”
I looked back at him. He was asking questions that he already knew the answers too, I just had the feeling. He was testing me to see if I would tell the truth. This was a warm-up for what he really wanted to know. I leaned back in the chair, keeping my hands flat on the table, hoping no one saw the slick sweat evapo
rating off the surface.
“What was left of her.”
“She’s dead?”
“Depends on your definition I supposed. For my money, she’s as good as dead. She was turned.”
“Turned?” He asked.
I leaned back in my chair. “Oh come on now, White. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Your secret base here has a UV lamp perimeter that’s been turned on now that the sky has gotten overcast. The lights weren’t on when I was here in the daylight. The skylights have been shuttered and barred to prevent anything from getting in from above you. You’re here to hunt Maccus, and he’s more than an ordinary serial killer. He’s a Vampire, and you know it.”
White nodded, pausing to take another sip. “You believe that Maccus Dunn is a Vampire and that he’s turned this Veronica Owens into a Vampire as well?”
“You want to play, let’s play,” I said. “Whoever you people are, you know Hellions are real. You’ve got too much firepower down there to be going after anything else. This isn’t the Middle East. You don’t need an armored Humvee with a Bushmaster on the turret to hunt down a serial killer. You’re expecting a fight.”
“An interesting theory.”
I leaned forward, nodding my head toward the blonde agent. “I bet each one of these suits has specialty silver bullets in their weapons right now. Wallace over there has at least three guns on him, and I’d bet my right nut at least two of them are loaded up with silver. You want to call me a liar or crazy to my face, have him unload a round and let's see. One round from that cannon under his shoulder.”
White drained the rest of his coffee. He moved to pour himself more as he looked back at me, still smiling and took another drink. “Mr. Wallace, your service weapon please.”
White held out his hand, not taking his eyes off of me. Wallace pulled himself off of the wall and walked over. He pulled a Glock 20 out of his shoulder rig and handed it to him. Setting his coffee down, White dumped the mag and racked the slide, catching the 10mm round in mid-air as it flipped out of the chamber. He set the Glock and the magazine down and slid the round across the table. I reached out and picked it up. The brass casing held a hollow point round. The bullet was capped off with some sort of polymer. The harden substance was filled with pieces of what looked an awful lot like silver.
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