Midnight Riders

by Pete Clark

  Adams had arranged for a big public meeting to take place at the Old South Meetinghouse. They were to discuss what to do about Governor Hutchinson’s refusal to send the ships back to England. Hutchinson was the Brit who was appointed by the crown essentially to run Massachusetts, and he was not in the mood to allow the people to dictate tax laws and shipping assignments. The meeting, of course, was a staged event to gather people together, many of whom had been pre-assigned to lead the charge on the tea ships. Presumably, a large mob would follow the plants and it would turn into a town-wide event with support from those outside of the Sons of Liberty as well. Clever really.

  Prescott’s job, as stated, was to clear the area around the harbor of rippers before the signal came for the meeting to break up and the attack to begin. He had about an hour to finish up. So far, much to his surprise, the harbor was quiet.

  There was a soft snowfall and, as usual it seemed, there was a full moon. It made for a bad night for encountering werewolves, but a good night to see. Prescott was keeping to the shadows. There were a number of buildings that bordered the various docks around the harbor and these made for excellent hiding places, both for him and for anyone else. After a few more minutes of skulking around, he finally saw some movement. Certainly, there was the occasional pedestrian or group of revelers or dockworkers moving about in the night, but this group was odd. There were about four of them. At first, Prescott thought that they were simply a group of prostitutes looking to capitalize as the evening brought many men’s work shifts to a close. But Prescott was a professional and, under more heavy scrutiny, he recognized them as succubae.

  Succubae could be tricky. Shaped liked extremely alluring women, they were supernatural beasts that could suck the soul from your body once they were done mesmerizing you with their beauty. So not unlike regular women, Prescott thought as he stifled a chuckle. What they were doing here seemed obvious. They were looking for prey and Prescott’s duty was clear. If the whole harbor had nothing but four succubae in it, then he would consider himself fortunate.

  Succubae were famed for their sexual prowess and they would first have rapturous sex with their victims before killing them. So, if you had to choose a ripper to kill you, I suppose the succubae would be a pretty sweet choice. Sadly, there was no time for rapturous sex. Prescott had to eliminate the succubae quickly and silently. Fortunately, he was no idiot and he came equipped with a crossbow. The bad thing about succubae is that they could be really persuasive and also they could eat your soul. The good thing is that they really were not that hard to kill. A crossbow bolt would do the trick as long as it hit something vital. They were quicker and stronger than humans, but not much more durable.

  Prescott took aim at the one that was leaning furthest out of the alleyway. He paused. If he shot one, then there would be three left, but they would certainly know something was up. Perhaps he should wait until they split up with prey before taking them out. He checked the clock on the nearby bank. He did not have much time left. There was no guarantee that three suckers were going to show up and hook up with a succubus each. If so, he could pop the fourth and then hunt the others. Prescott waited. He waited some more. He got angry, cursed, then waited. Nobody. What the hell? Where were all the lonely dockworkers?

  He had no choice; he was going to have to go and pretend to be a victim. That would get one out of the way, but they weren’t going to fall for it twice. Where was Dawes or Revere when you needed them?

  He hid his weapons amongst his clothes as best he could. Luckily, he had a rather large coat that looked almost like a cape. It came in handy at times like these. He strolled over to the band of succubae. He tried to look both leisurely and desperate. When he got within a dozen yards or so, they threw out the hook.

  “Hey pretty boy,” said the one he had intended to shoot first with the crossbow. “You look a little lonely. How about some company on this cold snowy night?”

  “That could be good.” Damn, Prescott thought. I am so awkward. I probably won’t even be able to pick up a succubus.

  “Swell.” Did she really say swell? She walked close to Prescott. He had to admit she was extremely attractive. She was a few inches shorter than he was, with very pale white skin and hair that was so red it practically glowed. She touched his arm and he quivered. As she smiled at him, he could feel a sense of warmth flowing through his body. He was really going to enjoy spending an evening with her. Wait a minute. Oops, he was supposed to kill her. That’s right; stay on target, Prescott. Kill the pretty demon. Don’t have sex with her.

  He let her lead him away down a dark side alley. He was sure to stay alert in case this was some kind of trap within a trap. Finally, they reached a small barn. She pulled him inside and pointed to a soft pile of hay that was on the ground. “Will this do?”

  “Sure,” Prescott stammered. “It seems as good a place as any.” Man, what kind of cheesy talk was this? I have no game, he thought, as the succubus started to undressubus.

  She had very nice skin and breasts and -

  “What the hell?” The lady in question was - how do we put this delicately? - equipped with both. “Why do you have that?” Prescott asked.

  “What? You don’t like options? You see, in today’s world, we decided that it was important to offer the customer whatever he wanted. Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Prescott?”

  Prescott took a second to question his sexuality before realizing it had said his name.

  “What is going on around here? How come everybody knows my name?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Prescott peeked briefly at the double options before he started to draw his knife. Then the succubus knocked him into the barn’s wall. His vision blurred, but not so much that he could not see the other three succubae enter the barn.

  ****

  “You sure that’s his place?” Arnold whispered.

  “Yup, that’s it,” Dawes shouted rather loudly.

  “Shhh. You need to understand the value of stealth.”

  Arnold and Dawes had seen Revere walking around the docks a few days ago. They had since followed him until they could discover first Adams’ house, as well as another man whom Dawes knew but was too stupid to mention: Samuel Prescott. Prescott was in on it as well. He had already left for the night, however. They had seen him sneak off, clearly loaded with weapons. This is what tipped them to the hypothesis that whatever was going on was happening tonight. They were going to break into Prescott’s house and look for clues. They should have just followed him, but Dawes would not let them. He said that there was no way Prescott would not know they were following him. Arnold was not so sure that he believed Dawes, especially given his track record, but he decided to listen anyway.

  They had approached the front door to kick it in, when the commotion began. Some random guy leading a mob was shouting about a huge meeting at the Old South Meetinghouse. It was to determine what was to be done about the tea ships in the harbor and the general British meanness as well.

  “Deus ex machina,” said Dawes.

  “What?” Arnold asked.

  The question went unanswered. They debated about following until they heard that Adams was leading the meeting. Adams generally tried to avoid public displays given the Brits’ distaste of him. He was not likely to be targeted, though, for murder since the fallout would be too great. Either way, Arnold and Dawes followed the mob.

  Meetings were boring, decided Arnold. All about what they should or shouldn’t do but nobody ever did anything. He swore that meetings would probably bring about his downfall someday. Adams was getting the crowd all seething with anger and such. He was presenting key issues as if he didn’t want them to be mad while, at the same time, he was clearly trying to incite a riot. Odd really. It took a bit of time before Arnold realized what was going to happen.

  “He’s going to get this crowd to destroy those ships,” Arnold told Dawes.

  “You think?”

  “Yes
. He is getting them all hyped; then they’ll attack, but he’ll stay here with witnesses and not be blamed. This Adams is a wily gent.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Let’s beat the crowd down to the docks. I don’t want to be caught up in the mayhem, but I do want to see how it plays out.”

  The two of them went sprinting down the street. The noise of the growing anger of the crowd rumbled after them. It didn’t take them long to reach the harbor. When they arrived, it was much quieter than usual. Just a few people milling about. A few workers, a couple of drunks, and some guy trying to hook up with a prostitute.

  “Hey, that guy with the prostitute is Prescott.” Once again, Dawes yelled too loud. Luckily, none of the party in question seemed to care.

  “Let’s go see what that friend of yours is planning.”

  “I think it’s pretty clear what he has in mind. He’s going to give her some money and-”

  “I don’t think so. Why did he leave his house so well armed and come here knowing what is going on just for that? No, something is up. Let’s follow them.”

  Arnold and Dawes crept along the shadows much as Prescott had done just minutes before. Had they looked closely, they could still have seen a few of his footprints in the fallen snow. They saw Prescott being led down an alley by one of the girls. The other three hesitated and then followed out of sight.

  “Uh oh. Something strange is going on,” said Dawes.

  “Good,” said Arnold drawing both of his swords. “I’ve been looking for some action.” He jogged in the direction of the alley down which Prescott and the ladies had gone. As they peered into the white swirling darkness of the alley, they saw three of the women standing patiently outside a small barn. Then there was a crashing sound and the three of them entered. “We need to get in on this.” Arnold sprinted down the alley; Dawes followed a few feet behind and watched Arnold disappear into the barn.

  ****

  Adams had to suppress his grin. In fact, he was so overwhelmed with feelings of self-congratulations that he almost physically patted himself on the back. He was delivering an impassioned speech. Sure, it was a meeting format and others had spoken, but he and everyone else knew that he was running the show. And what a show it was. Talking up the policies of the British, shaking his fist in the air, and yelling freedom and liberty a lot felt rather exhilarating. Really, that was all it took. Yell liberty and freedom, point to an invisible enemy, and soon a group of peaceful, hardworking men and women were ready to run down to the harbor and commit vandalism on a massive scale.

  Finally, after a number of others had kicked in their thoughts on why the British needed a symbolic lesson, it fell to him as always to deliver the crucial words.

  “This meeting can do nothing further to save the country,” Adams bellowed. With that, there was a great uproar and several men shouted seemingly random yet carefully planned phrases to cue the mob.

  “To the harbor.”

  “We’ll board the ships.”

  “We’ll show ‘em what they can do with their tea.”

  Other statements of a similar nature continued. Eventually people who weren’t in on it started picking up the sayings and soon, the mob was moving in a chaotic cluster toward the harbor. Many of the Sons of Liberty had put on Mohawk Indian costumes that they had previously prepared. Others were handing out masks so that all participants could remain anonymous as per the plan. How anyone with a clear mind could think that this was all spur of the moment was beyond Adams, but he knew they would. He would get to kick off his war and somehow manage to dodge most of the ire from the British.

  He turned to Gill. “Perhaps this day will be looked upon as the birth of a nation.”

  “Perhaps,” Gill said. “Or maybe just the destruction of the tea. Oops, look out! A zombie.”

  Gill shot it dead.

  ****

  If Prescott managed not to die, he was going to remember just to crossbow the next succubus he saw and take his chances. He tried to crawl away on his back as the still rather sexy succubus approached.

  “Don’t worry,” it said. “You’re really going to enjoy yourself before you die.”

  Prescott was not totally convinced. As such, he reached for one of his pistols. The redheaded succubus was quick. She lunged forward and knocked it from his hand. She then straddled him and forced him to the ground. Some hard straw poked him in the back and he wished he had crawled to a softer spot.

  “So are your creepy voyeur friends going to watch or do we at least get a little privacy?” Prescott was trying to stall for time. He was looking for a way out. He still had a bunch of weapons on him but she was too fast. He’d never get to use them if he could not find a distraction of some kind.

  “Them? Oh, they’re going to do more than watch. We’re all going to take turns with you. By the time we’re done, you’ll be in so much ecstasy you won’t even know we’ve killed you.”

  “In that case, let’s just skip the killing part.”

  “We can’t do that, darling. You see, once we get paid, we finish the job.”

  “Paid? Paid by whom?”

  “Haven’t you guessed by now, my dear?” She smiled and suddenly her mouth looked all misshapen and filled with crooked fangs.

  “It’s that de Lavoir bastard, isn’t it?”

  “That’s a gold star for you. Now just lie back and think of England.” She started to reach for his pants.

  “Do you like fishing,” Prescott asked idiotically.

  “Wow. You have no game,” said the succubus.

  That was when Dawes and some random guy came running into the barn. Random Guy had two swords out and beheaded a pair of succubae before they knew he was there. Dawes shot the other standing one in the face. The redhead who was on top of Prescott turned to face the attackers.

  “Wait,” Prescott yelled, but the random guy took her head off before she could do more than scream.

  “Wait?” Arnold asked. “Wait for what? Do you know what kind of diseases they carry?”

  “Not that, you half-wit. She knew about de Lavoir and you cut her head off before I could ask her.”

  “Sorry. Next time I’ll check before saving your life.”

  “Are you all right?” Dawes asked, helping Prescott to his feet.

  “I’m fine.” He retrieved his fallen weapons. “But we need to get to the harbor. The mob will be here any second and I want to check the boats to see if de Lavoir is really where Adams says he is.”

  ****

  As Prescott and friends were rushing out of the barn into the night, the mob was rushing through it and into a bunch of rowboats. Much like the Gaspee incident, the water was filled with dozens of men. They approached the three boats and boarded. They found no guards waiting. After all, these were not warships; they were just here to bring tea. The Mohawk-clad colonists broke open the hundreds of crates and began dumping the tea into the harbor. In fact, had a person dipped a mug into the harbor that night, he may well have had a cold but tasty cup of English Breakfast or Earl Grey. It took three hours to destroy all that tea. Several thousand pounds worth. The colonists finished, returned to their boats, and then slowly, and under anonymity, returned to their homes. There was a spark in the air that night. The colonists could feel themselves unite. As if they were not just a collection of individuals, but rather that they had become a nation. A nation that would learn to stand together to combat the oppressive rule of England. As for Prescott, he looked for de Lavoir, but neither he nor anyone else appeared to be stationed with the boats. Adams had probably lied to him. That was not going to stand.

  As the night drew to a close, the people of Boston, and of America, could sense the stirring of revolution. But it would not come as soon as they expected. Before the two armies were to fight with guns, they would first fight with economic policy. Also, they had to kill some monsters.

  CHAPTER SIX:

  Happy Christmas! Now We’ll Destroy Your Economy

  1774
>
  Franklin returned to the colonies with news of vampires, possible French assistance, and the coming of significant British economic sanctions. He had had discussions with the Brits and they wanted the colonists to pay back the cost of all the tea they had destroyed, which was quite staggering. The colonists, of course, refused and this led to a series of laws passed with the intent of punishing the colonists. The most obvious response to the destruction of the tea was the virtual closing of Boston’s seaports. British warships now regulated every import and export; this essentially shut down and destroyed Boston’s ability to make money. There were also a number of other laws that included taking court cases to England, which would lead to favorable results for the British. There was also the suspension of self-governance, which prevented Boston from having any of its own elected officials, and there was the Quartering Act, which forced the colonists to allow British soldiers to use their personal homes to stay. In effect, making people’s own homes a small military garrison for the enemy.

  These acts were enacted in an attempt to show the other colonies what punishments there would be for revolutionary extremists. The British had hoped that this would cause the majority of the colonists to eschew the radicals and enforce their commitment to the crown. Instead, the opposite occurred and a great wave of sympathy and support grew for Boston. Soon, in Virginia, there would be a Continental Congress. Leaders would meet to discuss what could be done.

  Elsewhere, near Virginia, in the Carolina territory, stage one of a certain gauntlet was finally reaching its conclusion.

  “Can we go to the cave of the darkened eyes now?” Morgan asked. He had probably asked this question thrice daily for several weeks. He always got the same answer: “Soon.” Today was finally different.

  “Yes,” said Mahrak. “The ice has subsided; we may go to the cave.”

  “Can I finish knitting my socks first?” Marion asked. In response, Morgan drew his gun, fired, and knocked the knitting needle from Marion’s hand. He looked down sadly at his fallen socks. “To the cave, I guess.”