The Wicked Dead (The Tome of Bill Book 7)

by Rick Gualtieri

  Christy met me before I’d even stepped off the stairs at her floor.

  “I thought you said you could insulate yourself from compulsion,” I said, mirth filling my voice despite the situation.

  “I can,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t think I needed to do it just to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, well, I think you might need to take a raincheck on those forty winks.”

  “I wasn’t asleep yet anyway. I was...” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

  There was nothing I could do but nod. I only wished I knew whether we were ready and that we hadn’t wasted what time we’d been given. Oh, who was I kidding? It was me who’d wasted his time. My friends had tried to strategize, and all I’d done was talk to myself in the bathroom mirror.

  No! Enough with the fucking whining already. What was done was done. I couldn’t go back in time to change things ... hmm, but maybe Christy could with her magic.

  Nah, that was a bad idea. Despite what movies would have us believe, there was the butterfly effect to take into consideration. I might travel back two days, accidentally fart at the wrong time, and return to the present to find New York overrun with dragons or something.

  “Bill?”

  Oh crap. There wasn’t time for my idle speculating. “Pack up whatever you need.”

  “Already done.”

  “Really?” She was about a thousand percent more prepared than either Tom or Ed had been.

  “Early practice for when I go into labor.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of what James had said. She opened her mouth, probably to voice something about what assholes vampires were. Yeah, yeah, I knew that song and dance. I interrupted to tell her to head up and help the guys get ready while I went downstairs to gather the Defilers for the campaign of glory I had promised.

  “Are you sure about them?” Christy asked.

  I was about to respond with a resounding “no,” but thankfully, the sound of screaming drifted up to us from below to save me from being a negative Nancy.

  * * *

  I leapt down the stairs, trying not to enjoy the fact that being a vampire made one an instant parkour star. As I reached the basement, the commotion definitely got louder. Multiple voices, all male, expressed various degrees of “What the fuck?!”

  What had set them off? Had a woman called their apartment by mistake and offered to provide free blowjobs? Usually, geeks were pretty hard to rattle. We were well-versed in zombie apocalypses and shit. Once you accepted the bloody end of everything by ravaging monsters, the rest was pretty easy to take in stride.

  I reached the door and opened it, praying to whatever gods there were that nobody was traipsing around in the nude. It was unlocked and swung open to a scene of chaos. Mike and Adam were shouting at Dave, who was busy shouting back.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “It was his own fucking fault.”

  “This is so not fucking cool, man.”

  Oh Jesus Christ.

  “ENOUGH!!” I compelled, hoping that there weren’t too many folks – vampire or otherwise – outside within earshot.

  There was no real force behind my command, just enough clamor to get their attention, and get their attention it did. The trio immediately ceased their little bitch-fest and turned toward me.

  Wait ... trio?

  “Where’s Carl?”

  “Why don’t you ask Dave?” Mike pointed a finger at my former DM. “He killed him.”

  * * *

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Oh, so he just exploded for shits and giggles?” Adam asked.

  Why, oh why didn’t I leave these fucktards back in Newark when I had the chance? “Okay, slow down. Start from the beginning. What happened to Carl?”

  “I just said...”

  “The word beginning; it means from the start,” I interrupted. “Not the start of time, or the start of this day, mind you, but the start of when you all decided to yell at each other.”

  “We were playing capture the flag over the LAN,” Mike said, “nothing major.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like there’s a lot of folks online these days,” Adam added.

  “Anyway, Carl got up to go see if Dave wanted in.”

  “Where were you?” I asked Dave.

  “He was locked in his bedroom,” Adam said. “Came running in here about a half hour ago all excited and shit about something. Figured maybe he was going to jerk off.”

  Dave shot him a sour glance, but before he could say anything, I asked, “Were you, Dave? Were you jerking off?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Okay, that wasn’t helping. And it was ignoring one very important detail ... one of our friends had just supposedly bitten the big one. I needed to keep that in mind. “Go on.”

  Adam nodded. “So anyway, after a few minutes when Dave didn’t answer, Carl put his shoulder into it and shoved the door open.”

  “It was locked for a reason,” Dave growled.

  I held up a hand. “Chill. You’ll get your turn.”

  He gritted his teeth in frustration, but then simply sighed and made a “go on” gesture with his hands.

  “Thank you,” Adam replied icily. “Anyway, a few seconds go by and I hear Dave freak out.”

  “About?”

  “I don’t know, man. Just then, this booming voice reverberated all throughout the place ... something about sucking cock.”

  “Are you sure that’s not what you normally hear in your head?” Mike teased.

  “Not now,” I warned him.

  Adam continued, “It was loud as fuck ... kind of like that thing you just did at the door.”

  “It was a compulsion. That was me sending it out from upstairs.”

  “You can do it from that far away?” he asked.

  “Why do you want to suck cock?” Mike inquired.

  “Yes, to the former.” I turned to Mike. “Don’t make me compel you to play in traffic on the latter.” Back to Adam. “Keep going.”

  “So, needless to say, that freaked the fuck out of us,” Adam continued. “I got up to check on things and made it to Dave’s door just as Carl started screaming ... except it got cut off, turned into a gurgle or something.”

  Oh crap.

  “I stuck my head in the door to ask what was wrong and saw Carl fucking explode. One second, he was there. The next, there was this flash of like white fire from inside of him and poof, he blew apart into fucking ashes.”

  White fire?! Double crap.

  * * *

  “Tell me what the fuck happened,” I said to Dave once we were alone.

  I had sent the others to get packed and ready. They were upset, quite rightfully, so I had to compel it into them. I hated to force the issue, messing with their minds in the process, but I didn’t see much choice in the matter. We didn’t have the luxury of time on our side.

  Following that, I’d dragged Dave outside into the hall with me. As I faced him, I was surprised to find myself far more annoyed than upset. That was odd. Carl – all of them – were friends. Hell, Starlight’s death still stung like it had happened just yesterday. I’d even beaten myself up over biting some army guy I didn’t even know. Oddly enough, though, I couldn’t bring myself to mourn the passing of a guy I’d sat next to at the game table for over five years. What the hell?

  First, I was compelling my friends, and now this?

  They’re just cannon fodder ... meaningless to us.

  I forced myself to push it all down and found myself disturbed it came so easily. This was not like me.

  “...and the dipshit grabbed it.”

  “Huh?” I asked, trying to focus. Finding out the circumstances behind Carl’s untimely demise was more important than whatever was going on in my head.

  “I said, I was in my room working on Ed’s blood. I had just gotten
a sample mounted onto a slide and was about to take a closer look when Carl came in and grabbed it off my desk.”

  “Your microscope?”

  “No! The blood.”

  “The slide or what was left in the syringe?”

  Dave averted his eyes.

  “Spill,” I commanded. “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t in a syringe. In my excitement, I sorta bumped into the door on the way in and snapped the needle. So I grabbed a clean coffee mug out of the kitchen and squirted the blood into it so I didn’t lose any.”

  “You had Ed’s blood in a coffee mug?”

  “I think one of you dropped my box of test tubes on the way over.”

  “So why the hell did Carl take it?”

  “I might have sort of forgot to put those spare blood packs you gave us in the fridge. I just dumped them on the desk, and I guess Carl thought I was taking a snack break. I was too busy paying attention to what I was doing and didn’t notice him taking a swallow until it was too late.”

  “Motherfucker,” I muttered.

  “He was my friend too,” Dave said.

  “I know,” I offered apologetically. It was stupid to assume he’d done it on purpose.

  “But did you see what the fuck happened? He blew up like a fucking bomb! I really have to get some more from your roommate because that shit ain’t normal. Think of the possibilities.”

  And just like that, I found myself wondering whether I should be more worried about myself or the psycho standing in front of me.

  * * *

  “You know it’s in the rules. Look them up.”

  Adam eyed me skeptically, but Mike shrugged and said, “Bill’s got a point. Is that really how it works, Dave?”

  I had found myself stuck between the choice of two evils. I didn’t want to keep compelling my friends. That was a slippery slope I’d already started to lose my footing on.

  At the same time, the truth was going to seriously fuck shit up. I kept trying to convince myself that we didn’t have time to grieve for anyone. It sucked. Carl was probably the biggest ass at my gaming table, having once spent an entire campaign embezzling gold from the mine I’d inherited from my family. Even so, he deserved better. But better would have to wait.

  Thus, I had fallen back on game rules. Dozens of years of vampire movies and TV shows had taught us that when a vamp is dusted, that’s it – sayonara, sucker. Aside from what I’d recently seen deep below the streets of Vegas, they were right too.

  However, RPGs, in the name of making monsters tougher and giving GMs everywhere extra chances to fuck with their players, had changed things up a bit. When a vampire was defeated in D&D and other fantasy variants, they turned to mist and returned to their crypt to regenerate. That was the only place where they could be killed permanently.

  Dave, having both been read the riot act by me, and also not wishing to lose his personal equipment mules, had gone along with it. “Yeah. He’s probably reforming as we speak.”

  “At your apartment in Newark?”

  “Seems a shitty place to always end back up in,” Adam commented.

  “Hey!” Dave protested.

  “It’s true. No offense, man, but you live in a dump.”

  “So why don’t we go back and pick him up?” Mike asked, coming to the logical conclusion that I hoped they wouldn’t.

  “We don’t have time for that,” I said. “I just received new orders from the Draculas...”

  “What the fuck are the Draculas?” Adam asked.

  Mike jumped in. “Is Dracula real?”

  “No on the second,” I replied, “at least that I know of. As for the first, that’s the nickname of the ruling vampire council. Just don’t say that to their faces. Otherwise, they’ll remove yours.”

  I ran with the distraction and spent several minutes bringing them up to speed on vampire politics. Fuck it; if any of them managed to survive, they’d need to know this shit anyway. Sadly, ignorance of vampire law was definitely not considered an excuse for breaking it.

  It was only after I’d finished that I realized I’d been giving them the equivalent of an orientation speech, introducing them to the vampire world as if I now considered myself a part of it. That was a scary thought.

  “So Carl will have to fend for himself for the time being,” I concluded, hoping that was the end of that. At some point, I’d need to explain the harsh reality of the afterlife, but for now, it seemed to mollify them.

  Just then, footsteps could be heard descending the stairs. Saved by the cavalry.

  Tom and Ed appeared, their shoulders laden with backpacks. Tom’s was much fuller and heavier in appearance, as he was no doubt Christy’s designated pack mule. Ed was carrying a longish item wrapped in a blanket – his shotgun. Hopefully, the police wouldn’t pick this night to start reasserting their presence on the streets. An insulated travel mug was in his other hand. End of the world it might be, but some folks weren’t going out without one last swig of coffee.

  Christy came last, following down the stairs as best as she could in her current state. She was also carrying a bag, but it was much smaller than the ones weighing down my roommates. Judging by the scent that hit my nostrils from her direction, it held pungent herbs I couldn’t identify except to say they probably weren’t pizza toppings.

  “Everyone ready?” Ed asked, stepping to the open doorway of the basement apartment.

  “Yep,” I replied.

  Tom joined him, peering inside. “Hey, where’s...”

  “We’re ready to go,” I interrupted, not wanting to open that can of worms again. Tom was a brother to me. I loved him as much as any man could love another without picking out matching floral drapes, but I trusted him to keep his fucking mouth shut about as much as I trusted myself to win a game of mercy against a four-armed Sasquatch.

  “Where to?” he asked, thankfully easily distracted.

  “We have work to do before we can really hit the road, and we’re still two fellowship members short,” I replied, earning grins from around the room. “There’s only one place we can go for now and hope they catch up to us ... the Brooklyn safe house.”

  I just hoped it lived up to its name.

  A Rare Blood Type Indeed

  We received no acknowledgements to the texts sent to our missing friends. That wasn’t entirely surprising as the increasingly spotty cell service around the city seemed to get worse by the day. That I’d been able to call home the day before was probably a minor miracle.

  So, to be safe, I left notes taped to both the front door and the girls’ apartment informing Sheila and Sally that we’d be at the place “we discussed.”

  It wasn’t exactly a top-notch cipher. Hell, pig-Latin would have been more esoteric, but it was the best I had. I just had to hope James had either been kidding about our place being burnt to the ground or that they’d hold off once they saw the bulk of us heading out.

  That left the safe house. The big question was how safe it would actually be. On the one hand, it was known by the Boston staff. That being said, most of them, including their current Prefect – a tight-assed chick by the name of Calibra – were currently enslaved by Vehron. I had a feeling that didn’t exactly put them on speaking terms with the Draculas. James knew about the place, having been there, but I had to trust that he wasn’t looking to fuck us up the ass the second we turned our backs.

  There was also the little problem of James confirming our phones were tapped and us being under constant surveillance. Oh well, at least that explained the feeling of being watched. Unfortunately, there was a chance the Brooklyn safe house would be about as a big of a secret as who Luke Skywalker’s father was.

  We had maybe a day at most before we’d be forced to get our asses on the move. That would allow our human contingent to catch up on their rest, but that was about all.

  “Shit!” I muttered as we made our way through the pre-dawn streets of Brooklyn.
/>   “What is it?” Tom asked.

  “We’re pretty much screwed.”

  “Just figuring that out now?”

  “I meant the plan ... the one to help me control my little personality disorder.”

  “I’m pretty sure as far as that’s concerned, you’re a lost cause,” Dave said.

  “Bite me,” I replied. “No. I mean, Christy and I were going to work together to...”

  “What do you mean, were?” she asked.

  I turned toward her on the dark sidewalk. “Exactly what I said. I doubt we’re gonna have much time to get comfortable where we’re going.”

  “So we’ll get started right away.”

  “Except we have no idea where Sheila is. We all agreed this is dangerous enough even with her there. Without her, it’s off. There’s no way I can guarantee your safety.”

  “There were no guarantees to begin with.”

  “I know, but at least with her there, the chances of...” I stopped mid-sentence. Multiple scents reached my nostrils a split second before a voice rudely interrupted our chat.

  “I think we’ll be taking your cash, bags, and your bitch too.”

  * * *

  Call me crazy, but I almost laughed as a group of men stepped out of a recessed basement entryway ahead of us. My ears perked up and I turned my head to see an equal number coming up from behind us. Eight in all. Not much more than our number, but it was a safe bet to say these guys weren’t regulars on the gaming circuit. They were a mix – some big, some wiry, and each one of them meaning business – all with eyes as soulless as any vampire’s.

  This was the true problem for most normal people. Even with the war approaching its zenith, the chances of stepping outside and having a random monster encounter were still probably not exactly super high. In any emergency situation, though, there were always going to be those who took advantage of things, becoming the predators in the night. Most folks didn’t need to worry about Sasquatches and vampires. Other people were monsters enough.