Phillip, Luca’s host, was standing right next to the Dumpster. My skid and near fall had startled him, and he was looking up at us with eyes that gleamed too brightly, almost glowing in the moonlight. The expensive clothes from the night at the mansion were gone. Now he wore plain shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, with thong sandals on his feet. Everything was matted and filthy, with so many tears that it was a wonder that it hadn’t fallen off him. He was carrying something wrapped in those white trash bags you buy at the grocery store, something long that he had been carrying with both arms. He shifted a little, hissing at us like a startled cat, and I saw that there was long blond hair hanging down from one end of his bundle.
It was one of the Grann girls; I couldn’t tell which. There were dark smears on the white trash bags, and when I looked closer I could see that it was blood. I couldn’t tell if it was hers, because it was covering Phillip’s hands, and it smeared wherever he’d held her.
“Put her down, Phillip,” I said loudly. I couldn’t remember drawing the gun, but it was in my hands now, a solid and comforting weight. At my feet, Suzume growled loudly, dropping her switchblade onto the ground and opening her mouth to display those sharp white teeth.
“Mine, Master said,” Phillip gibbered. He’d never spoken at the mansion. His voice was hoarse, almost broken, garbling and chewing at each word. His eyes were rolling around wildly, showing the whites, and I wasn’t sure if he recognized me from the other night, or if he even knew what was standing at the mouth of the alley, just that something was there. Spit flew with every word he said, and there was dirty foam caked in the corners of his mouth. “Master said, Master gave. Mine!” He crouched down low, almost squatting, even though he never looked away from where we were standing. His arms tightened on the bundle in his arms, and even though the girl didn’t make a sound, I could see the bunching of his arm muscles and knew how hard he was gripping her.
“Put her down and back away!” I raised the gun, holding it two-handed for better control, and sighted down at him. My legs had spread without even thinking about it, and I could almost feel Brian’s hands on my arms, feel him behind me, holding my body in the right position. The years fell away and the stance felt as natural as if I’d been doing it every day, instead of not since I was nine. But I hesitated. The girl was in his arms, held low to his chest, but if I missed I could hit her. I hadn’t been to a range in years. I couldn’t trust myself to make this shot.
“No, no, no, no!” Phillip screamed. “Mine! You cannot take!” He squeezed harder. I heard something crack, and knew it was from one of the girl’s bones giving way.
There was no time to trust myself. I squeezed off a shot before the echo of that crack had even left my ears. I felt the gun kick in my hands, but I held it steady. The bullet caught Phillip right where I’d aimed, exactly where Brian had always told me to aim when my targets had been paper outlines of bodies. Just at that midpoint between neck and shoulder, where it stood a good chance of breaking the collarbone. Painful enough to stop someone, but not fatal. There was a spatter of blood from the wound, and Phillip toppled back, dropping the girl in the process. She bounced once on the concrete, then was still.
Phillip screamed again, and there wasn’t anything human in the sound. He lunged forward, arms swinging widely, and now was coming straight for me. I was still holding the gun, but now I froze. That had been a stopping shot—he shouldn’t have jumped back up from that.
Apparently he didn’t know that. I moved my target to his other shoulder and squeezed off another shot, but he was right in front of me and one long arm slammed into me, knocking me off my feet and making the shot go wild. The blow knocked the wind out of me, and I hit the ground hard, gasping. Phillip followed me down, his huge, blood-smeared hands grabbing at my shirt, then at my neck. Panic ran through me as his hands wrapped around my throat, and I began fighting hard, kicking up at his body and knocking my fists against his hands, trying to break his hold. But I couldn’t knock his hands loose, and he squeezed. I gasped for breath, and my vision started to blur. Phillip’s face was close to mine now, those gleaming eyes now all too focused, and I could feel his wet saliva hit my skin as he babbled.
Then there was a scream of pain and his hands suddenly let go. I pulled in breaths of air desperately, and my vision cleared. Suzume was on his back, her jaws locked deeply into the back of his neck. Phillip shook himself, but she hung on tenaciously, her teeth digging in deeper. He reached back and started smacking his fists into her, and she let go with a yelp. She fell, twisting as she went so that she landed on those catlike paws. Phillip had turned and was lunging for her, and she nipped hard enough at his hands that he pulled back with another scream. She’d left gouges across his palms, and one finger was almost severed, spurting blood as it hung back grotesquely, held on by only a thin strip of skin.
Phillip kicked her, and even though Suzume jumped back fast, he made partial contact, and the force of it threw her hard, and she hit the alley wall, her small head smacking against the bricks. He moved in closer, and my fingers scrabbled frantically around the ground. The gun was gone, and I couldn’t find it, but when my hand found an old brick that had been knocked out of the wall and half-covered with garbage, I gripped it. Phillip was closing in on Suzume as she stumbled almost drunkenly, dazed from slamming into the wall. She was trying to hop backward, shaking her head, and she didn’t seem to realize that she was blocked by the wall. I slammed the brick down on the back of Phillip’s head with everything I had. I could feel the impact all the way up my arms, the hard surface of the bone giving way to a sickly softness, a hit that should’ve had him out like a light, if not dead, but Phillip turned and lunged for me. There was blood seeping out his ears and nose, and he was moving slower, but he was still coming. I pulled back far enough that his grab missed, but I stumbled on something, and his fist slammed into my side. Suzume moved in. There was blood matted in the fur around her head, but she was moving with intent again, biting wildly at the back of his legs, blood flying and staining her white teeth. He pulled up sharply, kicking again, and this time catching her full in the chest, sending her hurtling backward. I still had my brick, and now I slammed it straight into his face with as much force as I could muster. His nose crushed inward, but his eyes didn’t even seem to register that. He grabbed for me, and I had to stumble back again.
Then Suzume was there again, running hard. She changed shape so fast that it was as if I blinked and a woman replaced the fox between one step and the next, going down to her knee, grabbing down with one hand, and coming back up with her switchblade completely extended. She buried it in Phillip’s throat, shoving it in and then tearing it back out again, releasing a flood of blood as it sliced completely through his windpipe. Phillip went down on his knees, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. I was flat on my ass, staring, and Suzume was in a half crouch, blade ready. A long moment stretched as Phillip rocked forward, braced on all fours. His head dropped down, and I let out a heavy breath.
Phillip’s head rocked back up, bobbing wildly on his half-ruined neck, and those unnaturally rolling eyes were fixed directly at me. His lips pulled back to bare his teeth, and he started crawling toward me, mouth working in a silent biting motion.
“Just die already,” Suzume yelled, and shoved her knife into his right eye, both hands on the hilt as she put all her weight behind the strike. The blade went completely in, stopping only when the butt of the hilt knocked against the bone of the eye socket. Blood and awful, viscous things squirted out of the wound, and Phillip fell backward, landing sprawled out. His mouth snapped open and shut twice more; then he gave a huge shudder and didn’t move again.
There was a long moment while we both stared, unable to move, tensed and ready in case he suddenly pulled another slasher movie stunt and came back for one last hit. But the glow of his one remaining eye faded, leaving it dull and dead, and I became aware of the ragged sound of our breathing. The adrenaline faded enough that I also felt every
hit that he had landed in one almost blinding rush of pain, and I let out a very unheroic whimper of pain.
“Are you okay?” Suzume asked. There was blood running down her face from where her head had hit the alley wall, and she had one hand pressed against the right side of her rib cage, where a truly massive bruise was already starting to spread. She was also completely naked, which seemed like an impolite thing to notice after what we’d just experienced, but there it was. Even covered in both her and Phillip’s blood, banged up, and rather dirty from rolling around in a filthy alley, it was still an impressive sight. I pulled my mind back to what was important.
I rolled from my back to my stomach. My body gave me a very clear signal that standing up wasn’t a good idea yet, so I started crawling on my hands and knees over to where the Grann girl was wrapped in white plastic, still lying where Phillip had dropped her.
“Don’t, Fort,” Suzume called. I ignored her and pulled at the plastic around her face. It had been wrapped tightly, and my hands were coated in blood (both mine and Phillip’s), but I was able to tear at them enough that they started to give way.
“She’s already dead,” Suzume said, not moving from where she was kneeling beside Phillip.
“No. No, she’s not.” I yanked harder, and the plastic finally lifted away and I could see her face. It was Jessica Grann, the older girl, but she didn’t look like the smiling girl from the photo anymore. There wasn’t any mistaking this for sleep. There were bites all along her face and throat, bites that had taken chunks of flesh. The plastic was still wrapped cocoonlike around her lower body, but I could see the top of her chest. She was wearing a little flannel pajama shirt, bright yellow, with cheerful daisies. Her eyes were still open, glassy, blue, and staring.
“She was dead before we got here,” Suzume said. “I smelled it when Phillip dropped her. She’s been dead for hours, maybe even all day.”
“Why would he steal her?” I asked. It didn’t seem right for her to be wrapped in trash bags, like junk, and I kept ripping at them, trying to get them off her. “Why didn’t he just kill her with her parents?”
“I don’t know. I don’t speak crazy.” Suzume yanked hard at her knife, but it was still lodged in Phillip’s eye socket. She braced a knee on his chest and pulled again, harder, and this time it came free. “Don’t touch her body, Fort. The last thing you need is for a CSI team to pull one of your fingerprints off her.”
“I won’t leave her like this,” I said.
“Take the plastic off if you have to. We can dump it somewhere else, but just don’t touch her, okay?”
“We can’t just leave her here.” Not after everything that she’d been through. We couldn’t just abandon her again.
“Yes, we can.” Suzume’s voice was hard. “You can’t help her, Fort.” She glanced at Jessica’s small face, and her voice softened. “We’re right next to a bakery, and judging by the smells from the Dumpster, they use it regularly. Tomorrow morning someone will be taking the trash out and they’ll find her. She won’t be here long.”
It hurt to do it, but I nodded. “Fine.” I’d gotten all the bags off, tugging them out from under her, and I wrapped them into a ball. Jessica was lying on the dirty ground now, staring up at the sky. Her feet were bare, clean, and untouched. Somehow that was the worst part of this.
“Her sister,” I said urgently, remembering Amy with a rush. “Suzume, can you track Phillip back from where he came from? Amy—”
“Is probably also dead. I can smell another little girl on Phillip.”
That sudden flare of hope died. I looked down at Jessica and wondered if somewhere her little sister was lying in another Dumpster, wrapped in trash bags, waiting to be found. If she’d suffered as much as Jessica had.
“I need a little help over here,” Suzume called, and I made myself pull back from Jessica. There was nothing left I could do for her. Beside her I saw the gun, half hidden under the Dumpster where it had landed when Phillip knocked it out of my hand. I pulled it out, thumbed the safety back on, and tucked it back in my waistband.
I was able to stand, despite shrieks of protest from my gut, ribs, and left knee, and I walked over to where Suzume was still crouched beside the body. She’d been busy while I was distracted. First she’d cut away what was left of Phillip’s shirt, and had wrapped it around her hands like cloth mittens. Then she’d carved open Phillip’s chest, and was now cutting out his heart.
“Suzume, what the fuck?” I asked. I didn’t feel outraged at her desecration. Right now, with the knowledge that the girls were dead still seeping into me, everything was dulled, though I doubt I ever would’ve spared much outrage on Phillip’s behalf. Mostly I felt tired.
“To kill an older vampire, you have to destroy the brain and the heart,” Suzume said, sawing away at the last stubborn ventricle that held the organ in place. “Otherwise he can regenerate and come after you. Usually it’s a good idea to torch the body too, just to be sure. Now, our buddy here might not be a vampire, but he stayed up long after we should’ve put him down. He was faster than he should’ve been, and I have some cracked ribs that say that he was also a lot stronger than a scrawny guy should’ve been. So we’re just going to be a little cautious here.” She freed the heart, and dumped it on the ground carelessly, where it lay like discarded meat partially wrapped in the fabric she’d used to help keep her hands clean. “Do me a favor and crush that with your brick.”
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Do you want to just leave it unsmushed?”
Well, when put that way…I grabbed the brick and gave the heart a few good whacks, until now it was a very flattened piece of meat.
“And the brain?” I asked.
“It’s already dribbling out his ears thanks to when you nailed him during the fight. Now help me haul.”
Suzume grabbed his shoulders, I grabbed his feet, and we started moving Phillip from the middle of the alleyway to one of the back corners. While Phillip wasn’t particularly heavy, neither of us was feeling very good after the fight, and we were both grunting and cursing a lot whenever we hit a sore spot, which we both had in spades. At one point Suzume surprised me by calling for a break halfway there. We both crouched down and wheezed a little.
“How do you know how to kill a vampire?” I asked. “I didn’t know any of that.” Not that that was a subject that was likely to come up over dinner, but I couldn’t help feeling slightly miffed at how ignorant I was of our own basic biology. I’d always assumed that we were just like humans, only a bit faster and stronger. I did know that a wooden stake to the heart wasn’t a great idea, but only because Chivalry always muttered a lot whenever he watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns with me. I’d asked him once if it took a stake to kill us, and he’d told me that at my age having a wooden stake hammered into my chest would certainly prove fatal, but I could also get the same result with stakes of any other substance. Or by getting shot. Or stabbed. Or run over by a car. Or even eating bad shellfish. I’d assumed at the time that the takeaway on that lesson was meant to be that we were all fairly vulnerable. In retrospect, it apparently was meant to be that I, personally, was really vulnerable to everything, and the rest of them were just careful to avoid any aggressive movements directed at their chests.
“My grandmother told me.”
“How does she know?”
“Oh, she asked around.” For the first time, there was the hint of a smile. “Purely academic curiosity, of course.”
“Of course.”
We finally got Phillip’s corpse to the spot Suzume wanted; then we spent another few minutes fussing around until he was situated the way she wanted. Now he was rolled up on his side, knees pulled up to his chest, with one arm under his head like he was napping.
I looked at our handiwork.
“Oh yeah, this looks like a completely natural death,” I said. “As long as you ignore the gunshot, the smashed head and nose, the empty spot where one eye used to be, and, oh yeah, the
gaping chest wound.”
“I like the sarcasm. You must be feeling better. Now gimme your shirt.”
I stared at her, slightly confused.
She spread her arms and wiggled her shoulders. “Naked, dude.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I found that I was still able to blush as I hauled off my flannel button-down and handed it over to her. Clearly I must’ve incurred some kind of head wound to not only manage to ignore her nudity during the entire heart-smushing and body-moving ordeals, but fail to volunteer my shirt before that. Clearly I was lacking in chivalrous moral fortitude. So to speak.
She took my shirt with a little smirk and a completely gratuitous wiggle that had a chain reaction on some of her more interesting body parts. To my surprise, she didn’t put the shirt on. Instead she turned it inside out and began to scrub off the blood that was still liberally coating her from the fight and her postmortem activities.
“Did I get everything?” she asked.
“Um, one more spot on your face.”
“Thanks.” She wiped it off, then handed the shirt back to me. I held it away from myself and looked at her, confused. She held her hand out expectantly.
“T-shirt, please.”
“Oh, hell no,” I said. “I gave you a perfectly nice shirt. It wasn’t my fault that you decided to make it a washcloth.”
“Fortitude,” she said in a reasonable tone that set my teeth on edge. “We need to get back to the car without having someone call the police. That means that we can’t be obviously coated in blood, and I really shouldn’t be naked.”
I couldn’t really argue with her reasoning, though I did try as I stripped off my T-shirt and handed it over. She pulled it on, and it completely tented her, falling almost down to her knees. Then she grabbed my flannel and proceeded to mop me off as well. It did get most of Phillip’s blood off, though it revealed more than a few scrapes and cuts, plus my own set of blooming bruises that seemed to completely coat my torso.
Generation V Page 15
