Honor at Stake (Love at First Bite Book 1)

by Declan Finn

  Mikhail smiled. “I cannot even recall the last time I even heard one of my men reference Nosferatu.”

  “You're breeding from the wrong end of the gene pool, I guess. You get my point though. Any attempt to fight us, and you're going to take heavy losses. You might even be part of them. You may not survive this, Mikhail. You know this. I know this. Any victory you may have is going to be very Pyrrhic.”

  “If I withdraw, yet send my men in…”

  “I somehow doubt you're going to do that. Let's face it, you've managed unit cohesion throughout decades without a problem. If you send in your forces to be massacred while you stay behind, then I think there are a few hundred nests' worth of vampires who'd reconsider your leadership position. Possibly even revoke it.”

  Mikhail grunted. “Not unreasonable. What do you have in mind?”

  “How about this option. I'm going to give you one chance to kill me. Right here. Right now. No one will see it, and no one will interfere.”

  “Oh?”

  Marco looked up from Mikhail's chest. “Look me in the eye, you son of a bitch.”

  Mikhail laughed, and then met Marco's eyes.

  Marco froze, still and solid as a grave. He didn't move, didn't blink, and didn't waver. There was a long moment when everyone watching them wondered what was going on.

  Amanda was the first to figure it out. “You stupid, stupid man.”

  Marco, for his part, didn't feel a thing. His entire focus was leveled on Mikhail's face.

  Most importantly, he was focused on keeping him out. Mikhail mentally hit a wall. Marco's eyes were intense, and focused like a shark's–eyes that saw the prey, and leveled on them, but remained dead inside. There was nothing behind them. It was like Marco had completely and utterly sunk back into his brain and walled it off behind a protective shell. He was a solid wall of dark, unfeeling void. For Mikhail, it was like trying to punch through a wall of water–every time he punched at it, the wall reformed.

  Every time Mikhail slashed at his mind, he never had true penetration. He scrabbled at it, scratched at it, clawed, and battered his mental fists against the wall of Marco's mind, but nothing happened.

  Mikhail took a step back, blinked, a look of amusement passing over his face. “Really? Interesting. I know some people who will be interested in you, should you manage to survive this.”

  Marco smiled, and flared his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure. Now, withdraw your men and get out of my town, or else this is all going to get rather messy. Am I clear, sir?”

  Mikhail smiled. “Oh yes, quite.”

  Mikhail dissolved into mist, his smile the last thing to vaporize. His mist form swirled backwards, away from Marco, and the rest of the fog bank behind him similarly congealed into nothingness.

  “They are gone,” Amanda said aloud.

  Marco nodded, almost to himself, and then reached into his pocket to grab his cellular phone. “They're gone from here, but that means that they're still alive.” He quickly sent a text message.

  He looked back at Amanda and the Vatican ninjas. “This night isn't over yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Merle asked.

  Amanda gave a growl deep in her throat. “What he means is that Lily Sparks was dropped on Marco's doorstep. Mikhail knows Marco's name, and knows his address.”

  Merle Kraft winced. “And you just managed to wipe out a good chunk of his army.”

  Marco nodded. “He was in a bad tactical position, and he saw that if he closed with us, he and his men would be in a fight they might not be able to win. We've hit them where he lived, but he withdrew and took what's left of his local force with him.”

  Robert Hendershot grimaced. “Just because this was his main force, it does not mean that this was his only force.”

  Marco gave Hendershot a pat on the arm. “Bingo, give the ninja a cigar. Right now that just means that they're going to kick our asses the moment I get home and they think that they are the ones in a good tactical position.

  “In short, everyone, the situation just got much, much worse.”

  Chapter Thirty-One: I Can Kill You With My Mind

  April 16th, 1:50AM. Greenpoint, Brooklyn, NY

  Marco Catalano, Amanda Colt, and Merle Kraft approached the Catalano household on foot.

  As predicted, the front door of Marco's home was blocked. At the foot of the stairs stood the familiar form of the towering Mikhail the Bear.

  “Oh look, a threat,” Marco muttered. “How nice.”

  Merle held up a hand. “Let me try this time.”

  Marco, Amanda, and Mikhail looked with surprise at the short government agent.

  “Really?” Marco asked.

  Mikhail grinned. “Some people just don't know their own limitations.”

  Marco and Amanda had no time to agree or disagree with Merle's decision.

  Merle was already in front of Mikhail, and struck with a kick to the nose that shoved the cartilage into his brain. If Mikhail hadn’t been undead, the move would have killed him. He fell back, blinking, and Merle glanced over to Amanda. She reached into her handbag for the Arizona bottle full of holy water, but it apparently snagged on the inner lining.

  “I told you we should have gone for the backpack,” Marco muttered. “I don't care if this made for a better quick draw.”

  She growled, and pulled out the stake instead. She hurled the purse away and put her left arm forward as a shield. She wielded the stake held like a knife at 11 o’clock on a Friday night in Brooklyn.

  The enormous vampire reacted by getting into a similar stance, only more professional. It was a stance for a hired killer—more specifically, a trained killer.

  Merle frowned. He even knew the martial arts stance—pentjakt silat, an Indonesian martial art that made Karate and taekwondo look like ballet.

  “I am over three hundred years old,” the vampire snarled in a deep voice. “I have sired entire colonies. Do you think that in all that time, I could not learn a few simple martial art forms?”

  Merle smiled at him. “Join the club, buddy.”

  The vampire blinked again, eying Merle with a mix of skepticism and amusement. Suddenly, he yelped in pain, whirled and scooped someone up in his hands. He held Marco by the throat, three feet up in the air, and the vampire’s back was smoking as if on fire.

  Merle hadn’t seen that coming. He has some good maneuvering if he got behind Mikhail while Amanda and I were busy posturing.

  Marco rammed a stake into a spot below the vampire’s wrist and flicked a lighter. The stake went ablaze in seconds, and the vampire hurled Marco to the ground before dropping to the street and rolling in an attempt to put out the flames.

  “No, no, no!” Marco chided. “Your line is, ‘Help me, I’m melting, what a world, what a world!’ Not turn around and grab the supporting actor. You’ve had three hundred years and no time to watch movies?”

  He held up a hand, and the door to the brownstone opened. A long wooden broom handle came out, landing right in Marco's hand.

  Marco glanced at Merle and Amanda a moment and smiled. He pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Merle. He fired. A stream of liquid shot from his squirt gun flew past the agent and hit a vampire a few feet behind him. The vamp took the shot in the eyes. Merle turned and broke his neck, dropping him to the ground.

  The bigger vampire rolled to his feet, the fire out. Marco didn’t hesitate. He fired two squirts. The holy water blinded his enemy for a moment, and Marco seized the opportunity to toss Merle the broom handle.

  Merle caught it and noticed immediately that Marco had sharpened it at one end. Marco pulled out another stake, and quickly snatched up Amanda’s purse, swinging it around like it was a mace on a chain.

  “Come here, you reject from Salem’s Lot,” Marco said, egging his enemy on. “Come and get the pathetic human being. Come on. It’s snack time!”

  Merle cast a glance at Amanda. She stood there, and merely smiled a smile tinged with affection. “At this point,” she said u
nder her breath, “I would like to note that my friend is out of his mind. So please, do not try any of this at home.”

  Another hiss came from behind, and Merle automatically stabbed behind with the handle, ramming another vampire minion through the heart.

  The government agent whirled, expecting to run into one or two more vampires.

  Instead, there was a group of a hundred vampires, at least.

  “This is going to take a while,” Merle muttered.

  * * * *

  Marco studied Mikhail the Bear, coming close, two stakes sharpened. One was held point up in his right hand, and the other, point down in his left.

  He lunged toward Mikhail, slashing for the eyes.

  Mikhail's hand came up and grabbed Marco's wrist.

  The vampire looked up, his eyes now glowing a blood red. I’ve always made fun of novels that using lines about a villain “seething with malice,” he thought to himself. Now I can see it.

  Mikhail growled and pulled Marco off his feet, slamming his back against the wall of his brownstone. The only reason Marco's head wasn't smashed in was that he tucked his chin, taking the impact along his back and shoulders.

  Marco stabbed up with the stake. Mikhail intercepted the blade, wrist to wrist.

  Mikhail grinned, baring his fangs. ”I'm going to rip your arms out of your…” He grimaced in pain. His teeth ground together, his arms started to shake.

  Marco's eyes flicked to Mikhail's hands. They were starting to smoke and smolder.

  Mikhail growled and tossed him aside. When Marco hit the ground with his arms taking the impact, Mikhail blinked in shock.

  The crosses from the rosaries wrapped around Marco's wrists became visible.

  “You little bastard.”

  Marco got to his feet, and started doing the math.

  He can charge. But no, he's got a few martial arts under his many belts. Charging is too much like brawling…

  He can lunge and punch…Likely…

  He can burst forward and kick. Not impossible. Less likely, though…

  A roundhouse kick? Possible. He can easily advance with it by not recoiling, and he can smash my ribs in.

  Definitely a kick then. Punches would be too easy to dodge. His speed makes kicks hard to avoid. He'll kick off his back foot, which is his right, so I should go to his left and avoid the kick altogether.

  Without even another word, Marco burst to the side at the same moment that Mikhail shot forward, launching a roundhouse kick. Instead of a punching motion, as he was trained to do against a groin kick, Marco swung down with the stake, which jammed into Mikhail's shin as the point of Mikhail's boot just grazed Marco's ribs.

  Mikhail had to fall back with the stake sticking out of his leg.

  Marco spun around with the force of the blow. Even that graze was enough to shatter two of his ribs.

  Marco blinked at the pain. It took an effort on his part to not grab his aching ribs. “You're a fast little sucker, ain't you? I'm going to need to redo my math.”

  “You will need to redo your ribcage by the time I'm done with you.”

  The vampire roared and lunged in, hands wide.

  Without even a second's thought, Marco saw the attack and broke it down.

  He's going to swing from the outside, obviously with his right hand. Therefore, he’s going for my ribs again, since they're already my weak point. I can work with this.

  Marco shot forward, his left arm already up with a block to the ribs. They met wrist to wrist, the rosary draining strength from the blow. Marco's arm came up like a bicep curl around the attacker's arm, and his right hand clamped down on the vampire's shoulder. Marco leaned back, his knee coming up into Mikhail's groin. Once, then twice.

  Then Mikhail's left arm came up, then chopped down, breaking Marco's right arm.

  Marco screamed and fell back. He tried to work the math on the next strike, but once again, Mikhail was too quick for him.

  The next roundhouse kick came in low. Marco had intercepted it like he had been taught at his Krav Maga school, but while a shin-on-shin defense worked against a human, Mikhail's blow snapped Marco's leg like a twig.

  Before Marco could fall over, Mikhail grabbed him by the shirt and threw him up against the wall.

  “Your rosaries might stop me from even ripping your throat out,” he said, “but that doesn't stop me from punching a hole right through your chest.”

  Marco did the math. Mikhail was right.

  He was beaten in seconds.

  * * * *

  “Oh nuts,” Merle said as he looked over the crowd of vampires as they held back, waiting for their boss’s fight to end, “and here I left my flamethrower at home.”

  Merle looked at the whittled broomstick in his hand, and sighed. He broke it over his knee so he had two sharp pieces of wood.

  “Does this feel like an odd Buffy episode to anyone else?” he muttered.

  Amanda gave out a musical laugh. “After a fashion.”

  Then all hell opened up.

  From the rooftops came several packages. Boxes with test tubes taped to them. They exploded on impact with the ground, turning into fireballs.

  “Homemade napalm,” Amanda said, watching them fall. “Right.”

  Gunfire opened up from the roof. Flares shot out from a dozen rooftops, and from down the street, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of machine-guns. Not one, or two, or even three, but dozens, spitting fire.

  “Tracer rounds,” she added, taking a step back.

  Merle looked to her and said, “Really? I know Marco told the Vatican ninjas to take a helicopter to get here ahead of us and the vampires, but still…”

  “He also sent a text message.”

  Merle looked down the streets. From one direction came a bunch of stereotyped Guidos in suits alongside men in NYPD uniforms.

  Didn't they say that they had a small confederation of policemen with them? Did they make a deal with the mafia?

  “Okay, then,” he drawled. “Time to make with the hacking and burning–”

  Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by another horde of humans charging at the vampires, closing in on the bloodsuckers in a pincer maneuver.

  “Now what?”

  “These are the local gangs,” Amanda explained. “These are friends.”

  Merle looked over his shoulder for Marco Catalano, knowing he’d like to see his guys in action.

  Marco, however, was pinned to a wall by Mikhail. His left leg was broken in an obvious fracture, his right arm dangled useless at his side.

  “If these guys have things covered, I think Marco may need some help.”

  * * * *

  Mikhail grimaced, in obvious discomfort at being so close to the rosary around Marco's neck.

  “I may not be able to bite you, but I can kill you.”

  Marco growled low and deep. “Then look me in the eye when you kill me. Look deep into my eyes, dirtbag.”

  Mikhail did. “I’ll hack into your brain and chew through it like tissue paper.”

  This time, Marco didn't fight him.

  When Marco Catalano said he was a genius, he wasn’t exaggerating. His focus was always so intense because he noticed everything and contemplated all of it. His mind never filtered or slowed. Like a supercomputer, a hundred little thoughts were ongoing beyond the surface. He had been fighting Mikhail, tracking Amanda, processing his love for her, working strategy, contemplating telling Amanda about his true feelings, considering what to do with the Kraft family, with the United Nations, trying to process vampire strategy of the killings in Brooklyn, working the interrelated problems of balancing his four forces, seeing if the Ninjas would lend him some weaponry, if the mafia could be trusted, if they could find more cops, if the gangs would get themselves killed…

  Looming large was Amanda. Her brains, her body, her movement, the way her hair flowed, her expressions and warmth and color of her eyes, her laugh, her voice. The way she made him feel human and alive. />
  Then there was the other part of Marco. The part he wouldn't allow Amanda to see. The part he kept close to the vest. The darkness he would die to protect Amanda from.

  All of this hit Mikhail at once. He had tried to hit Marco's brain like a battering ram. But this time, Marco let him in. Mikhail's attack turned out to be hitting the guard rail on the roof of a skyscraper. He punched through and then he just started falling. Only this time, there would be no hitting the ground.

  The effect was much like popping a 256K IBM into a supercomputer. The walls of water had dropped on top of him. The Red Sea had opened up to let him in, and then began to crush him. Mikhail's mind was a snack, and this time he was the one being eaten.

  At the deepest, darkest part of Marco's mind, Mikhail hit bottom. He touched something cold, and hard, and ruthless. Something savage and primeval, and something far more ravenous than Mikhail. It was something that wanted to rip his throat out and watch him die, bleeding on the ground, for no other reason than that he was there, and he was something to kill.

  It was something that leapt from the shadows of Marco Catalano’s mind, and it was something much more vicious than any vampire Mikhail had ever met.

  Then it started to rip him to pieces.

  * * * *

  Amanda's heart stopped when she saw Marco apparently at Mikhail's mercy. He was broken and beaten, and the only thing she could think to do was to charge the giant vampire.

  That was until Mikhail dropped Marco and backed away, screaming in pain. He grabbed his head as though there were something inside trying to break out.

  She exchanged a look with Merle Kraft. He looked about as confused as she did.

  Mikhail gave his head a final shake, and then whirled on Marco again.

  Marco, who simply smiled. Despite having only his right leg and left arm working, he reared up and launched a projectile.

  The vampire tried to sweep it aside, thinking it was the purse Amanda had thrown at him before. Instead, he swept at the dislodged bottle of holy water, and smashed it, spilling the contents all over himself. He kept coming and knocked Marco aside. He slammed himself against the wall, putting out the tendrils of smoke.