Modern Magic
Page 135
“What the fuck?” he gasped, skidding to a stop to take in the carnage before him.
Ozymandias had played things perfectly. Now there was a vampire who knew what he was doing. However, it would all be for naught if I didn’t do my part. Composing myself as best I could, I started slowly walking toward Night Razor, licking the blood off my fingers as I did so. “Sorry,” I casually said, “I didn’t leave you any leftovers.”
His eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “How the hell…? Last I saw, you were getting your ass dragged out of that club by security.”
That’s it? Thank god. He apparently didn’t see the event leading up to that. Luck was apparently smiling on me tonight, sorta. Either way, it was time for a little embellishment.
“Some fucker got in my face and they jumped me when I started slapping him around.”
“But how did you…”
“The club was fun and all, but I really needed prey a little more challenging than some teenage ravers. I figured you’d understand,” I smugly said. “So, what’s next? I’m all warmed up now.”
He just stood there, glaring at me, so I decided there was one little bit of extra icing to spread on this cake. I gestured down at the camera sticking out of his pocket. “You did remember to tape this, right?”
The Dork Tower
So maybe I should have kept that last remark to myself. That, or I should’ve expected that I’d need to duck. Regardless, I caught one square on the chin from Night Razor, and, once again, found myself on my ass. I guess it was too much to hope that I’d make it through the entire evening without getting hit once. Well, okay; so far, this night, I’d gotten hit several times, but most of them had come from people other than Jeff. Come to think of it, though, maybe that wasn’t something I should be bragging about. On the upside, I was still conscious. Guess my tolerance for beatings was getting better.
We stood there, glaring at each other for a few seconds (okay, I was technically sitting), and then he seemed to think better of the ass whupping he was no doubt contemplating handing out. While I’d love to fool myself into thinking that perhaps he had doubts of being able to take me out (perhaps bolstered by the scene of carnage he stumbled upon), it appeared his reservations were more practical in nature as he said, “We need to get our asses away from this fucking mess before someone calls the cops.”
Pulling myself to my feet, I grudgingly had to admit he did have a point. Subtle this was not. Instead of saying anything pithy that might’ve ended with my head smashed through a wall, I simply grunted my assent with his plan. Without another word, he turned and took off full bore down the alley at a speed that would have made an Olympic sprinter weep. Remembering that I wasn’t exactly a slouch anymore myself, I immediately took off after him at a similar pace – not too shabby for someone who came in dead last in every race during gym class.
Just a few minutes at this speed found us several blocks away. I’d definitely have to remember that. It was faster and cheaper than a cab, with the added benefit of not having to be yelled at in Arabic.
The place where Night Razor finally stopped was deep in shadow, several streetlights in the area being inoperative. “Now it’s your turn,” he said, his back still turned to me.
Oh, shit, that didn’t sound good. I crouched down into a fighting stance (or at least what years of Bruce Lee movies had taught me was a fighting stance) and prepared myself for an attack. What I wasn’t prepared for was the torrent of water that hit me when Night Razor stepped aside. I was blasted off my feet, and worse yet, fuck me, it was freezing cold.
I rolled to the side, out of the spray and, after slipping a few times on the wet concrete, managed to get back up. Night Razor was standing there, grinning, holding the cap of the fire hydrant he had just ripped open. “There. Now you don’t look like you just stepped out of a slaughterhouse.”
Fucker! Again, though, he had a point. I hadn’t realized that I looked like someone who had just run away from a murder scene (which, oddly enough, was what had just happened). Now I just had the appearance of someone who’d decided to take an impromptu dive into the Hudson. Oh, well, water dries better on clothes than blood, I suppose. That was assuming I didn’t freeze to death first…oh, yeah, probably little chance of that happening.
“A little warning next time?” I growled.
“What fun would that be? Besides which,” his voice turned hard, “I think you’ve gotten plenty of warnings from me already.”
* * *
I made it back to the loft a short while later, still damp, but without further incident. Following my improvised street shower, Jeff unceremoniously announced we were done, and then had stalked off into the night. I didn’t need a written invitation to know that his body language clearly said don’t follow. So, I didn’t. It didn’t really matter anyway. I had miraculously both survived the night and given him absolutely zero ammunition to use against me. All things considered, I had probably come out ahead of the curve. That didn’t mean I was particularly happy about it, though.
I walked up the stairs, my shoes making sloshing noises with each step, and just opened the door without bothering to knock. Truth be told, I was starting to consider it a second home of sorts. Weird, huh? But I guess once you’ve been beaten, bloodied, and…oh, yeah…killed in a place, you start to develop an attachment to it.
Anyway, I walked in to find some of the coven milling about and caught the ass end of a few conversations. Most of it seemed to be about me.
“…almost gutted Sally…”
“…fucking animal should be put down…”
“…he even be killed?”
“…lead us in the war against the feet…”
Most of it, anyway. No fucking clue what that last one was about. I wasn’t going to be further enlightened either, apparently. All talk ground to a halt as soon as they noticed I had entered the room. It didn’t matter much, though, as I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be social. Part play-acting, and part being in an actual bad mood, I stopped in my tracks, made eye contact with them all, and simply said, “Get the fuck out.” Which they did.
Once the last one had left (quickly, too, as I gave him a hungry growl on his way out), I checked the rest of the apartment for stragglers. While there was nobody hiding in the bathroom (food or otherwise), I did notice that the mess had already been cleaned up. I guess Sally wasn’t shitting me about the cleaning staff. I then checked the bedrooms. The first one was empty (and clean…thank god). The door was shut on the second. I tried the knob. It was unlocked, so I opened it. Sally was lying in the bed. She was wearing pajamas and had a cold compress upon her head. Starlight was sitting by her side, spoon-feeding her from a bowl of blood.
Upon seeing me, Starlight jumped to her feet and turned in my direction, dumping the bowl’s contents onto Sally’s lap in the process. At least this time, her eye-roll wasn’t entirely directed at me. However, she quickly composed herself and gave a little whimper as I approached. Starlight, in turn, stepped between me and the bed, baring her teeth in a snarl.
“You won’t hurt her again, monster!” she barked as if she were an extra in a bad B-movie. I let out a bemused sigh in response.
“Two for the price of one works just fine for me,” I said, taking a step forward. That seemed to deflate whatever bit of bravery she had in her. Starlight’s mouth dropped open, and a look of fear crossed her face. She started breathing heavily, her large supple breasts heaving up and down with every breath, practically begging me to cradle them in my hands, and…
Oh, sorry. I did it again, didn’t I? I mentally slapped myself back to reality and away from Starlight’s inviting cleavage. Before they could mesmerize me again, I stepped to the side and hooked my thumb toward the door.
“Just get the fuck out of here.”
Whatever sisterly instinct she might’ve had toward Sally evaporated at my giving her an out. She gave Sally a momentary look of pity, and then raced past me. A second later, I h
eard the front door close. As soon as that happened, Sally gave a sigh and started to get out of bed.
“I was just getting comfortable,” she complained.
“Milking it just a little bit, aren’t we?”
“What? It’s not every day one survives an attack by the legendary Freewill.” She stood and stretched. “So, how’d your hunting trip go? I see you still have your legs attached, so I’ll assume it went better than planned.”
I filled her in on the club (leaving out the part about my face and the bar becoming intimately acquainted), the street thugs, and Ozymandias’ subsequent slaughter of them. She nodded thoughtfully at that last part.
“Figured he might do something like that. Smart. It’ll probably be on the news by tomorrow. Regardless of what Jeff says at that point, the others will put two and two together.”
“You think?”
“No doubt. Congratulations, you really are Dr. Death.”
“Right now, the only thing I am is Dr. Tired. I chased everyone out so I could catch some sleep. If there are no other surprises, I kinda need to be somewhere early tomorrow.”
She considered this for a second and then said, “Okay. You’ve probably earned it. I think we’ve spread enough chaos and misinformation for one weekend.”
“Thanks.” I stifled a yawn. “Well, I’m gonna crash. What are you going to do?”
“I was thinking we could…I don’t know…maybe crash together,” she purred, sauntering over to me seductively.
My eyes immediately went wide as my mind filled with the possibilities and just as immediately emptied as she yelled, “Psych!” and giggled. Bitch! “Sorry, stud. But I’m heading out to enjoy the rest of the night. If I run into anybody, I’ll just tell them how I barely escaped your ravenous clutches.”
“That works, too…sorta,” I commented, somewhat deflated before remembering how she had clawed me earlier. “Need me to rough you up a bit to make it realistic? I kind of owe you one, anyway.”
“Maybe next time.” She tittered and then went off to get dressed.
* * *
Shortly before sunrise, I found myself on a bus headed toward Newark, New Jersey. I had gotten just enough sleep to feel somewhat less dead, when my phone alarm awoke me. Since I was now very allergic to the sun, I took pains to dress for a day out – my attire consisting of a hoodie, gloves, scarf, and sunglasses. The weather was still cool enough so that the outfit wouldn’t appear too bizarre, but I still looked like some pseudo uni-bomber-type weirdo. The weather was forecast to be partially sunny early on and then cloudy with a good chance of rain. So, assuming the weatherman was correct (a big assumption), I figured I’d be okay for the trip home. Regardless of how the weather turned out, though, I’d rather be over-dressed than over-cooked.
I reached my stop and then hiked a few blocks to my destination. Upon reaching the apartment complex, I walked over to the correct unit and rang the bell. I waited a few minutes, and there was still no response – not too surprising, considering it was only slightly past six a.m. So, I did the charitable thing – charitable for myself, that is: I leaned on the bell until the door was unlocked from the other side. Unsurprisingly, the face that greeted me was not a happy one.
“What the fuck do you want?” he angrily asked.
Oh, yeah. I still had the scarf and sunglasses on – probably looked like an overly polite home invader. I quickly swept them off to reveal my countenance.
“What’s up, Dr. Dave?” I cheerfully greeted my dungeon master.
“Bill?” he drowsily asked.
“Yep.”
“I repeat the question, what the fuck do you want?”
“I’m here for the game,” I replied innocently enough, enjoying messing with him.
“The game isn’t for another…what time is it anyway?”
“Almost 6:30.”
“I’m going to shut the door now…”
“Wait. I know I’m a little early,” I pleaded as he made to close it on my face. “But it’s important.” The door stopped. “I kinda need your help. Seriously. I wouldn’t be bothering you like this otherwise. You know that.”
“If you’re fucking with me, your character is going to be in a world of hurt.” he threatened from the half-closed door.
“Trust me. If you don’t find this interesting, then be my guest. You can line up the elder gods to take turns corn-holing Kelvin, and I’ll sit there and take it, smiling even.”
That assurance seemed to satisfy him, oddly enough. He sighed and stepped aside to let me in, grumbling, “I guess I’m already awake anyway.”
We went into his apartment and he locked up behind us. After ascertaining that what I had to say was important, but not life or death important (at least not anymore), he excused himself to grab a quick shower and maybe a Red Bull or five to wake up. As I waited for him, I checked to make sure most of the blinds were drawn, although there wasn’t much to worry about in that case. On the best of days, Dave typically kept his apartment illuminated in a manner similar to a cave. His job kept him from seeing any form of natural light for most of the week, and I guess he figured there was little use in dealing with it for the short time he spent at his home awake.
About twenty minutes later, he returned looking much fresher, if not entirely happier. As I stood there debating how to begin, he started taking game manuals down from his bookshelf.
“Since you’re here, you can tell me what’s going on while you help me set up. Maybe afterward we can go out and grab something to eat before the others arrive.”
“No problem on the first, although I might have to decline the second. I really can’t go out.”
“Can’t?”
“Can’t,” I assured him.
“I’m not going to get a visit from any cops looking for you, am I?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Probably not,” I answered, only half joking.
“Good to know. I’d rat you out in a second anyway. Grab the chairs from the kitchen and bring them out, okay?”
I did as instructed and then decided to dive right in. “So, basically, I need you to write me a doctor’s note.” Did I say ‘dive right in’? Maybe dip in a toe and test the waters was more like it.
He stopped what he was doing and looked at me questioningly. “A doctor’s note?”
“Yeah, you know; those things that people like you write for your patients.”
“Is someone beating you up on the playground again and you want to skip gym class?” he quipped, resuming his game-day preparations.
“Not quite. I need an excuse to not have to go into work.”
“Laziness isn’t a disease,” he stated.
“Not like that,” I protested. “I need an excuse so that they let me work remotely on a permanent basis.”
“Dude, it’s like what? Maybe one train to get to your office.”
I shook my head. “You’re not getting it. I can’t go into the office during the day.”
“Okay, I’m listening. Why are you suddenly allergic to work?”
“It’s not work that I’m allergic to. I had a bit of an accident the other week,” I confessed. “It’s why I missed the game.”
He gave me a quick once over as we set up the game table. “You look fine to me.”
“Yeah, well, if you examined me you wouldn’t think I was fine.”
“What would I think?” he asked, deadpan.
“You’d think I was deceased,” I answered in the same tone.
He laughed. “And I suppose somebody cast resurrection on you.”
“I’m not joking.” I took a breath…here we go again. “Last week, I was bitten by…a vampire. I died and came back to life as one of them.” He once again stopped what he was doing and began to open his mouth, but I cut him off before he could say anything. “And, yes, I already know how stupid, crazy, and pathetic it sounds. And, no, this isn’t some stupid joke me and the rest of the party came up with to mess with you. And it’s certainly not some delu
sional drug trip because I stayed up all night doing bong hits while watching Twilight. This is real.”
“Why would you take hits during Twilight?”
“Oh. Ed and I were playing a game, take a puff every time Robert Pattinson said something fruity sounding. We were completely wrecked by the end of it.”
“I bet,” he said. “But let’s get back to this vampire bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. Here,” I held out my arm, “look for a pulse.”
He gave me a dubious glance, but did as asked. He felt for it, shifted his grip a few times, and gave me a puzzled look. He then reached over and felt for a pulse on my neck, I guess just in case I was doing something to cut off circulation to my arm.
“Just let me know when you’re finished feeling me up,” I said.
He pulled his hand away and hesitated for a second or two. “Okay, that’s a little…odd.”
“You do know how to check these things, right?”
He gave me a withering glare in return. “Wait right here.” He left the room, returning a few moments later with a stethoscope. “Take off your shirt.”
“Should I also take off my pants and cough?” I cracked wise.
“You’re getting real close to an agonizing and embarrassing death for your character,” he warned. Some people just have no sense of humor. I did as told, this time keeping any comments to myself, and he spent the next minute or so searching for a heartbeat. When he pulled back, the look on his face said he was completely perplexed.
“Let me guess…he’s dead, Jim. Right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He just kinda shrugged in return. “There’s definitely something going on in there…I just can’t call it a heartbeat.”
“Well, while you’re contemplating whether to break out your zombie survival kit, chew on this,” I said, opening my mouth and extending my fangs (I had been practicing).
He was starting to get a bit of a far away look in his eyes, as if considering something. “If you are fucking with me, I gotta admit I’m pretty flattered at the effort.”