by Cas Martin
'Hello?'
'Hello, Elizabeth?'
'Who is this?'
'It's Dennis. Monica's Dennis.'
'Are you okay?'
'I'm fine. I've just had a message from Monica. I don't know what is with that woman and walking straight into traps today, but I think she's done it again.'
'Where? I'm on my way.'
'I'll collect you. You might want to get your band of merry men together again as well. I have a feeling that it's going to take more than just the two of us.'
'I'll call them.'
'I'll be there in fifteen.'
'I'll be ready.'
Twenty minutes later Dennis was doing his best not to speed as he wove his way through the streets, feeling uncomfortable with the motley crew of passengers he had in his car. It spoke against every one of his instincts to have them there with him, but he was sensible enough to know this was something he would not be able to handle on his own.
At least Monica had the good sense to leave him a message letting him know exactly where she was going. It seemed like the only logical thing that she had done during the past twenty-four hours. He swore to himself that if they all came out of this unscathed then they would be having words. He didn't give a damn if she was his senior in just about every area of their lives, he was going to give her a piece of his mind.
He glanced across at Elizabeth sitting in the seat next to him, fidgeting and nervous, not sure what they were letting themselves in for. When he had turned up at her apartment she had been knocking back another couple of painkillers, leaving him with some doubts as to just how capable she would be in a major fight to the death.
'I'm sorry I had to drag you into this.'
'I'm glad you did. After everything Monica has done for me lately, I wouldn't have it any other way.'
'Are you sure you're up to it?'
'Nope, but that doesn't mean we're going to give up without a fight. I've got a funny feeling that I'm going to feel like death tomorrow. Or just going to feel dead,' she quipped, but didn't get much of a laugh from her audience.
'I don't know why she just went ahead with this. She could have called me.' Dennis banged the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration.
'She did call you.'
'She could have called me and then waited for me to get back to her. Instead of running head-first into danger.'
'I don't know Monica as well as you do, but if someone left a dead body for me on my doorstep, it probably wouldn't leave me in a particularly rational state of mind either.'
'That's the thing. Until a couple of weeks ago, Monica would never have done this. She's one of the most successful businesswomen I know, and you don't become that by taking uncalculated risks. She's applied that philosophy to the other areas of her life as well. I can't see what's changed so much since you came along.'
'Are you saying you think this is all my fault?' Elizabeth bristled next to him.
'No, I didn't mean it like that. It's just the timing of it I guess.'
'Well, perhaps she is taking a calculated risk. Maybe she knows the odds better than we do. She wouldn't have been chosen as the head of the family if she didn't know what to do for the best. She's the right person for the job. You have to carry on believing that.'
'I do still believe it.'
'Are you sure? Because you don't sound like it.' Elizabeth's accusation stung, but it was a fair thing to say. He visibly deflated.
'I guess I'm just scared. We had finally managed to get some kind of normality going on, and we were integrating into society quite happily. America had been a wonderful thing for my people. We got the chance to escape from all the mistakes our ancestors had made in Europe. Then with the death of your father everything just seemed to unravel. I can't help it if I don't like it.'
'I can't say I'm a big fan either. This wasn't what I planned to do with my life. But one thing I've come to believe is that all of this stuff happens for a reason, and we just have to keep believing in that. We're on the right side after all.'
'You're more naïve than I give you credit for if you think that the good guys always win.'
'I never said that. But just because they don't always win doesn't mean that we won't'.
'I admire such confidence in the face of adversity,' said David dryly from the back seat.
Garth interrupted the conversation with a hesitant cough. 'I don't mean to be obvious, but shouldn't we have some sort of plan?'
'What did you have in mind?' asked Dennis. He still found it hard to believe that this scrawny kid was a vampire hunter. If he had any recollection of their initial meeting on the train, he was showing no indication of it. Dennis used all his senses but couldn't penetrate the physical and emotional armour of the boy.
Garth was right though, they did need to have some kind of plan. He just wasn't sure what to advise. A meeting on the pier was something of a cliché, which was why he was surprised Monica had fallen for it. Everything screamed out 'trap'. The problem with the pier was that there was one way on and off, and it was far too easy to get caught with only the water as a way out.
'Well,' began Garth, 'I'm not sure what to suggest. I have a friend who used to work down there before they shut down his shop. At this time of night everything will be closed. But there'll be more than a couple of homeless people out on the beach. Seems to me that they could have a lot of witnesses. So it's more likely to be right at the end, where the cargo ships come in.'
'Good thinking. At this time of night the Port Authority is closed. There will be virtually no one around.'
'Seems like the most likely place they would choose for any type of showdown.'
'Are we sure it is a showdown? That sounds a bit dramatic,' asked Elizabeth, turning in her seat so that she could see them all better.
'I'm fairly certain,' replied Dennis, sad there really was no other option. 'I could tell from the way she was talking on her message. Whatever they said to get her out there must have been pretty serious.' He slowed the car down as they rounded the block. The pier, its edges just about clear against the darkness of the inky night sky, came into view. 'If we're going to come up with a plan, we've got about a minute to do it.'
'I think we go with the stealthy approach,' said Elizabeth, patting the pockets of her combat trousers for her assortment of weapons. 'If they are luring her into a trap she'll be in it by now. If we're lucky they will be so focused on Monica they may not notice us. It's a fairly calm night, and we have no choice but to hope that the wind direction is in our favour. When I got your call Dennis, we bandaged the wounds we got from the other night, so the smell of blood should be hidden as best we can. Stale blood is less obvious, but we can't get rid of it completely.'
'I'd noticed that none of you smelled as wounded as I expected,' smiled Dennis, impressed in spite of himself. 'You really do know us better than we know ourselves.'
'There are some basic principles I found in my father's notes that can help us stay alive for as long as possible. Not tormenting you is always a good start.'
'Hopefully it will give us a bit of an advantage. They will expect me to show up at some point, but not you. They'll assume that if you are foolish enough to come, then you'll be weak. Easy pickings. You're not though, are you? You're all well enough to fight? Monica would kill me herself if she thought that I'd convinced you to come out here to help her when you wouldn't even be able to help yourselves.'
'The wonders of modern medication. We'll all pay for it in the morning, but for now we should be fine. Besides, your people will always have the upper hand against us when it comes to sheer physical strength. Fighting vamps is about something else entirely. No offense intended.'
'None taken. I just hope that you're right and you don't get too badly hurt tonight. And I hope we're not already too late.' He swallowed, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.
'We're about to find out,' Elizabeth replied, her own voice an octave higher than normal. 'Is everyone ready
?'
'Yes,' came the unanimous response.
'If it's looking heavy, we let Dennis go in first. Then we'll be the surprise second wave. Of course, the plan is flexible. The aim isn't. Stay alive, and get Monica out alive. You can work that however you want in the end, as long as we achieve the goal.'
Dennis looked at the young woman giving out orders like a true leader. He was beginning to understand why Monica liked her so much.
37
They got out of the car and separated, using the shadows for cover. It seemed odd, thought Elizabeth, that they were working together, attempting to work as one when they were so used to working on their own. Her life was once again changing right in front of her eyes, and she knew that she no longer had control over any of it.
She strained her eyes and her ears, keeping her attention on Dennis as he pushed himself steadily ahead. She could read the sudden urgency in his movements, the slight quickening whilst still trying to maintain his stealth, and she was certain he had got the scent of Monica. She felt her own stomach lurch and she hoped they were not too late. She had not allowed herself to even consider they might be, despite the nagging voice in the back of her brain that had been telling her otherwise.
As they made their way along the sides of the pier, trying to stay in the darkness and not announce their presence, she began to hear the drift of voices on the wind. That was a good sign, she thought. At least it meant that the wind was not sending their scent right to the people they did not want to pick it up. That was the good news. What she was hearing was not.
The sounds were those of a pack hunting, and with them the screams and whimpers of pain she instinctively knew came from Monica. That meant Monica was still alive, but she might not be for much longer.
Elizabeth watched as Dennis suddenly broke into a run, also able to tell Monica did not have much time left. She heard Garth behind her step forwards, always ready to go straight to the fight rather than wait for it to come to him, and she held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks. She needed to see what they were up against first. They needed to let Dennis inflict whatever damage he could before they went in. They would stick to the plan, even if only for a little while longer.
From this distance she saw that Dennis had taken them by surprise. Even if they had been expecting him at some point, they had become so caught up in the kill they had forgotten about the world around them. The all-consuming blood lust was a weakness that she was willing to exploit.
Elizabeth watched as the silhouette of Dennis lunged and his fist connected solidly with the jaw of the vampire nearest to him. In the dark stillness, the sound of bone meeting bone echoed through the night, a flat hollow sound that was promptly followed by a yell of pain. The blow was a good one and the vampire fell straight to the ground, not getting back up as Dennis moved onto the second closest person.
This is what Elizabeth had been waiting for. Once they realised they were not alone, the remaining vamps pulled themselves off Monica, understanding they now had more pressing matters to deal with. They ceased to be a violent mass and Elizabeth could count how many there actually were. She was surprised to see that there were five, if she included the one that Dennis had already felled. That was more than she wanted, but at least it gave them a fighting chance.
Now was the time to move as Dennis drew attention away from Monica, but found himself four against one. Those were not good odds and Elizabeth knew they had very little time to swing things back in their favour.
She could feel Garth straining against her arm to move forward, desperate to throw himself into the fight, and she gave him the nod. She could feel David at her back, and even though he did not have the same eagerness as the boy, she could tell that he was ready and willing. She didn't know if it was because he was always willing to take out a few vampires, or if it was because he wanted to help Monica, but at that moment, she really didn't care.
As Garth moved forward she allowed him a ten second head start before she followed. There was no time to formulate any kind of strategy, but something told her that a wave of attack would be the best thing to keep the other side on the back foot. David must have realised what she was thinking, because when she set off after Garth, he did not immediately follow her.
Her ribs already hurt from the run, the painkillers only doing so much to suppress reality. The group of men looked considerably larger now she could see them close up. No wonder Monica had been howling in pain when they got there. She would not have been able to hold them off forever, no matter how hard she had fought. This was more than a trap, this was a lynch mob sent to make sure she never got off that pier alive.
No matter how much she did not want to admit it, the vampires were far superior to all of them in strength, with the exception of Dennis. On the periphery of her vision she could see that despite her initial calculations, there were three men lying flat out on the floor. Monica had managed to take out two herself before they'd arrived. Elizabeth pulled a hunting knife from her belt and waded into the fight.
She heard a groan to her left and in a moment of panic realised that Garth was on the floor, his hand clutching his side. She was almost sent to the ground herself as she lost concentration for that brief moment, when she should have known better. Her opponent would take the slightest opportunity to kill her. His eyes were crazed with a vicious blood lust, and in that moment she saw there was blood around his mouth and on his chin. She recoiled in horror with the knowledge he not only tried to beat Monica, he had tried to bite her as well. The disgust cemented itself into resolution that if she was going to be killed by anything or anyone, it would not be this monster in front of her.
Then he pounced.
38
Garth was lying on the floor doing two things. Firstly, some part of his brain was nonchalantly joking that he was never going to get full function out of that kidney again. The second was more serious, knowing he would have to pull some impressive stuff out of the bag if he was going to take down someone who was the same height but twice his weight. How did he keep getting himself into these situations? He had been discreet, quiet and effective before Elizabeth had shown up, and now he kept finding himself out of his depth.
It was not a feeling he enjoyed.
The one thing he didn't mind doing was playing a little bit dirty, if it meant he was going to stay alive. The man had stopped to loom over him as Garth hammed it up a little, clutching his side and acting like he was pretty close to giving up the fight. As he suspected, like any schoolyard bully, the vampire took a moment to savour the kill, to wring fear out of his intended victim. He even took the time to let his fangs slide out slowly, hoping the boy beneath him would whimper for mercy.
The vampire, lulled into a false sense of security by Garth's hand clutching his side, completely failed to notice the other one reach into his jacket and pull out the knife. He was unaware of the foil until it was too late, and the knife pierced below his belly button. Garth sliced it up and pulled it free before it could connect with the ribcage. The vampire still lunged at him. In retrospect it had good and bad points. Garth was far too close, and the vampire's hands were able to slide round his throat. The good news was that the action in itself changed the wound into a slit, and Garth experienced the uncomfortable sensation of the vampire's slippery guts spilling out onto him.
That was all it took to force the man's hands from his throat, as he instinctively clutched onto his intestines to stop them tumbling down onto the floor in front of him. That gave Garth the second opportunity to get the knife in and this time it was a slice across the throat that brought the man to his knees. Garth had the confidence now to move on and help Elizabeth. He had tasted of victory and it was sweet.
This was where he was meant to be. Killing vampires was his gift and he loved to use it.
39
David, on the other hand, wasn't having quite as much luck. He was more evenly matched with his opponent. They were the same size, but this man was more measu
red in his fighting style, less violent and reckless. He had already landed at least one good head punch that had sent David sprawling to the floor. The only the thing that kept him moving was the knowledge that if he went down, not only would it be curtains for him, there was a very good chance that would throw the numbers out and put them back on the losing side.
He rolled out of the way as the man tried to land a kick on his ribs. As the toecaps grazed his sides he realised it was even closer that time. There was no way he would have got up again tonight if that foot had actually landed. He carried on rolling until he could get back up on his feet but the previous blows had started to take their toll. His reactions were sluggish and he had a feeling the blow to the side of his head may actually have been harder than he first thought. He thought he could hear the voice of Professor Hastings whisper in his ear. Forgotten conversations. Misremembered warnings.
When the second hit to the face sent him straight back down to his knees he knew he was in trouble. The third meant that the sides of his vision began to close in and a sickness rolled in his stomach. He realised he was losing the fight and, despite doing his best to get back up on his feet, this time he felt like he had met his match. The final straw was a boot to his back. His reactions were so slow he didn’t even have time to put his hands in front of himself to protect himself.
The last thing he saw was the ground rushing up to meet his face.
40
'David.' Elizabeth half-whispered, half-groaned as the joy of victory dissipated as soon as it had come. She limped over to him as quickly as she could, scared by what she might find when she got there. She knelt at his side, the wet darkness surrounding him soaking through her jeans. 'David, I need you to wake up.'
She reached over and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were open and she felt a glimmer of hope. A glimmer which quickly faded when she realised how cold and clammy his skin already was. The blood from the wound on his neck was no longer flowing.
