Michael Scott

by Billy the Kid;the Vampyres of Vegas

  Billy rounded a pile of trash and found himself facing a building at the end of the alleyway. There were no windows, and the only door was behind a narrow-slatted metal grille. As he got closer he saw a simple plastic sign next to the door. KARATE CLASSES. SELF-DEFENSE. QUALIFIED INSTRUCTOR.

  He stopped and checked the address again. It was correct. He turned slowly, making sure he wasn’t being followed, and then pressed a small white bell under the sign. His acute hearing picked up the rattle of what sounded like wind chimes. He checked the alleyway, the habits that had kept him alive for so long making him look behind him once more.

  Billy was turning back to the door, finger outstretched to press the bell again, when he realized that the door had opened and a young woman with spiky red hair was glaring at him. He stepped away and smiled to hide his discomfort; he hadn’t even heard the door open.

  “Hi. I’ve got a parcel for a Mrs. Skatog.”

  “Scathach,” the young woman corrected him, reaching for the sack.

  Billy took a step back and shook his head. “I can only give it to Mrs. Scathach herself.”

  “I’m Scathach,” the woman snapped, green eyes flashing.

  “And how do I know that?” Billy asked. “You can’t be too careful these days.”

  “You are the servant of Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent,” she snarled. Her nostrils flared. “You stink of his foul odor.” And then her mouth opened to reveal vampire teeth. “I am the Shadow.”

  “Yes, ma’am …,” Billy said. He thrust the bag toward the young woman hastily. He didn’t want anything to do with those teeth. As she reached out to take it, a phone started ringing from somewhere deep inside the building.

  Scathach turned without a word and disappeared, leaving Billy holding the bag.

  4.

  Scathach had no idea who the young man was. An immortal, certainly, and judging by his appearance, he’d been granted immortality when he was still quite young; he looked like he was in his late teens or early twenties. Handsome, too, with startling blue eyes. His two front teeth were a little prominent, and he deliberately kept his mouth shut to hide them. His red pepper scent was layered with Quetzalcoatl’s serpent odor.

  Scathach flew across the polished wooden floor and snatched up the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Do you remember my voice?”

  In her long life, Scathach the Shadow had faced down monsters and challenged terrors. She had ridden across nightmare landscapes and fought creatures that should never have existed. There was little that frightened her. Yet the sound of this voice set her legs shaking. She sat down heavily in the chair.

  “It’s been a long time,” she whispered. Scathach was overtaken by a wave of swirling memories, and all the good ones were washed away by bitterness. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Almost.”

  “I looked for you,” she said, her voice quavering.

  “Not hard enough,” the man said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “I came back, Scathach. I came back in search of you. I looked everywhere, but I could never find you.”

  “Where are you now?” she said quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

  “I’m in trouble. Terrible trouble. I’m in Las Vegas. The town is run by vampyres and cucubuths. And they’re hunting me. Scathach, I need you. You won’t fail me again, will you?”

  There was a sudden shout, which turned to a crackle on the line … and then silence.

  “Hello? … Hello? … Hello?” Scathach called, slowly standing.

  She heard a click, followed by a dial tone.

  And for the first time in many years, the Shadow buried her face in her hands and wept bloodred tears.

  5.

  Billy the Kid stood awkwardly in the doorway, the sack in one hand, his boots in the other, and looked at Scathach. Blood—thick and bright red—seeped between her fingers.

  “Are you all right?”

  The creature that looked up at him was no longer human. Her pale skin had tightened across her cheekbones and chin, and her eyes—completely red now—had sunk into her skull. The flesh had drawn back from her jaws, revealing the savage vampire teeth Billy had glimpsed earlier, and her hair had stiffened into needlelike quills.

  Billy bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his face expressionless; he’d never shown fear in his life. He held up his boots. “I hope you don’t mind. I invited myself in. I didn’t want to leave the pithos on the steps. And I took my boots off. I know you martial arts types don’t like people walking across your floors in their street shoes.” He looked down at his threadbare and mismatched socks. “If I’d known, I would have worn better socks. My ma always did tell me to wear clean underwear and decent socks when I went out.…” His voice trailed away as the creature behind the desk rose to her feet. She turned and started lifting weapons off the wall and piling them on the table.

  “Look, this might not be the best time,” Billy continued. “I’ll just leave this here and head out. I’ve got some—”

  “What’s your name?” the Shadow asked.

  “William Bonney … well, Billy. Everyone calls me Billy.”

  “I’m Scathach. Don’t ever call me Scatty.” She turned to Billy again. Her face had smoothed out, the vampire features hidden. As he watched, the solid redness in her eyes swirled away, revealing grass-green irises. She rubbed at the streaks of dried blood on her cheeks. “Do you have a car, Billy?”

  “Sure do. A 1960 Thunderbird, Monte Carlo. That’s the Second Generation model with a 430-cubic-inch 350-horsepower V8—”

  “You’re going to do me a favor, Billy,” Scathach interrupted.

  “I am?”

  “You are. And your Elder Master will be thrilled that I’ll now be indebted to you and thus to him. He knows I’m the sort of person who takes favors very seriously and remembers each one. Someday you will need a favor from me and I will repay you.”

  “I’m sort of big on favors myself,” Billy said with a shy smile. “That’s the way I was brought up. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “For a start, you will never call me ma’am again.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma—sorry, Miss Scathach.”

  “Just Scathach. Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. I need you to drive me to Vegas.”

  “Vegas!” Billy looked nostalgic for a moment. “I haven’t been there in more than a hundred years. I used to stay at the Old Adobe Hotel, and I think I might have been in jail there once or twice.”

  Scathach stared at him, saying nothing.

  Billy shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And I was innocent. I think.… Or at least that time I was innocent. I take it we’re not going to Vegas for the shows.”

  “A … a …” She hesitated, looking for the right word. “A friend of mine is in trouble.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “Vampyre trouble,” Scathach said, gathering up the weapons and shoving them into a sports bag. “I’m going to get dressed. Take the pithos and put it back in the car—we’re bringing it with us.”

  “Vampyres,” Billy muttered. “I hate vampyres. Nasty, toothy, clawy …”

  The Shadow stopped. “I am a vampire,” she said, showing him her teeth.

  Billy picked up the pithos. “I’ll get the car.”

  6.

  “I’m driving Miss Scathach to Las Vegas.” Billy spoke into a Bluetooth headset. He handed his passenger the cell phone and transferred the call from the earpiece to the handset. “He wants to talk to you. He sounds upset,” he added with a grin.

  “Is there a problem?” Scathach snapped. The sun was low in the sky, and she pulled a pair of mirrored aviator shades off her head and slipped them over her eyes. The lenses reflected the white façade of the Embarcadero.

  Quetzalcoatl started to speak, but Scathach cut him off. “Something came up and I needed transportation. No, I still haven’t learned to drive, bu
t no doubt you know that. I suppose I should be honored that you’ve obviously kept tabs on me over the centuries. Just as I’ve kept them on you,” she added. The Shadow glanced at the young American immortal. She knew he could not speak the ancient language of Danu Talis, but she was careful to keep her tone neutral so he couldn’t pick up the nuances of her speech. “Your servant arrived just when I needed him.” She turned to Billy and reverted to English. “How long will it take to get to Vegas?” Traffic along the Embarcadero was at a standstill.

  He shrugged. “Once we get out of the city, it should be fairly easy. At this time of night, with me driving, I’d say eight, maybe nine hours.”

  “Do you sleep?” she asked.

  “Not much anymore. Naps every few days.”

  Scathach turned back to the phone. “If he drops me on the Strip and turns around, he should be back in San Francisco by midmorning tomorrow. I’ll make my own way home,” she continued in English, before slipping back into the language of Danu Talis. “I hope this is not too much of an inconvenience for you, but I am sure you have many other servants.”

  “None like Billy the Kid,” Quetzalcoatl said. “Try not to damage him.”

  Scathach hung up and passed the phone back to Billy. “He likes you,” she said.

  Billy laughed delightedly. “That old monster. He doesn’t like anyone. I’m not even sure he likes himself.”

  Scathach shifted in the seat to get a better look at her driver. “So you’re the famous Billy the Kid. I thought you’d be taller.”

  “I’m five eight,” he answered, then paused. “You know, people used to say that all the time. But I haven’t heard it in a while.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re all dead.” Billy smiled. “The curse of immortality, eh?”

  Scathach nodded and turned away, looking out across San Francisco Bay as Billy swung right, then circled left onto the Bay Bridge.

  “I know you’re not human, so I’m guessing you’re an Elder, like Quetzalcoatl?”

  “Next Generation,” Scathach said shortly.

  “What’s the difference?” Billy asked.

  “I was born after the Fall of Danu Talis. Quetzalcoatl was born on the island.”

  “So you’ve lived a long time. You know what it’s like to be immortal, to see everyone around you age and die. How do you deal with that?”

  “You need to ask your master,” Scathach snapped.

  “He doesn’t tell me anything.”

  Scathach remained silent for a few moments. “I’ve seen many humans face immortality, and they never get used to it. You’ll learn to accept it. You’ll learn never to make a close association with a mortal human.” She turned to look at Billy. “You’ll never take a mortal wife, or have a mortal girlfriend. You’ll learn to artificially age yourself. You’ll dress differently, add gray to your hair, grow a beard and then move on. You’ll never live too long in any one place. You’ll spend the rest of your life on the run, looking over your shoulders.”

  “I did that when I was human,” Billy said. “I’m well used to it.”

  “You’re young. Enjoy it while you can. In another hundred years, two hundred, five hundred, a thousand, you will see things differently.”

  “You’re just a bundle of laughs,” Billy muttered. “I was enjoying being immortal.”

  “Billy, I have lived on this world—and others—for ten thousand years. I have watched the very Earth reshape itself. I have seen empires rise and fall.” Her voice turned lost and lonely, and Billy caught the hint of what he recognized as an Irish accent, not unlike his mother’s. “I have watched the death of nations; I have seen entire tribes vanish into myth and great civilizations fade to dust. I have seen so many friends die … and do you know the true curse of immortality?”

  Billy the Kid shook his head. “Not sure I want to know now.…”

  “The curse is that you remember every single face.” Her expression became hard, lips disappearing into a thin line. “Ultimately, that’s what will drive you mad.”

  “You remember all the faces?”

  “All of them,” she breathed.

  “But you’re not mad,” he said lightly.

  Scathach peered at him over the top of her aviator glasses. “How do you know?”

  7.

  Quetzalcoatl sat in a room surrounded by the remnants of a lost empire, holding a cell phone in his hand. It was a slender rectangle of glass, metal and liquid crystal, the very latest in high-tech gadgets, and yet incredibly crude when compared to the technology of his youth.

  Every day Quetzalcoatl mourned the loss of his world. Once he had been worshipped as a god—now he was almost forgotten, remembered in a twisted collection of stories and folk songs that barely hinted at his true nature. But his time would come again. He had ruled the humani in the past; he would rule them once more. Even now, plans were in place to return the Elders to the earth. Within two years, three at the most, the humani would be nothing more than slaves again. There were, however, a few inconveniences—certain Elders and Next Generation and a few immortal humani—who would stand with the humans and fight. They had to be removed, but carefully, discreetly, quietly. Scathach presented a particular problem. There was no point in sending assassins after her: she had survived innumerable attempts on her life. And then she invariably went after the would-be assassin’s employer.

  Quetzalcoatl had been authorized to try a much more devious method of killing the Shadow.

  He hit Send and watched a 702 area code number scroll across the screen. The call was picked up on the first ring. “She is on the way,” Quetzalcoatl said.

  “Alone?”

  “She is being delivered by one of my servants, an immortal humani known as Billy the Kid.” The Elder sighed. “She has told me she will send Billy back to me, but I know his nature: he will want to help her.” Quetzalcoatl’s thin lips twisted into a sneer. “So be aware that you may have two enemies.”

  “If he sides with her, he will die with her.”

  The Elder shrugged. “A pity. His loss would be an inconvenience. If you can spare him, I would be grateful.”

  “I have a pack of cucubuths I’ve been starving for the past week and a nest of vampyres—proper blood drinkers—that I have not permitted to feed for a month. Once I unleash them, there will be no escape for Scathach or her accomplice.”

  “I will not advise you to be careful, but let me offer a word of friendly caution: you have never dealt with anyone like the Shadow before,” Quetzalcoatl said.

  “Ah, but I have, Elder. You forget: Scathach trained me.”

  8.

  Billy was happiest when he was driving. It represented the ultimate freedom. He didn’t remember learning how to ride; riding was just something he had always done. A huge body of myth had grown up about the special bond between cowboy and horse. In truth, Billy had never felt that connection with an animal, and had known few cowboys who did. You took care of your horse the same way you took care of a car. It got you from point A to point B faster than you could walk. But he did remember the precise moment he’d bought his first car. It had been—naturally—a Model T, and in 1916, it had cost him over seven hundred dollars, which was a fortune in those days. He’d driven Fords for the next forty years, until he’d bought the 1960 Thunderbird convertible. He’d instantly fallen in love with the car with the sweeping tailfins and had never bought another. In the past five decades he’d spent a fortune maintaining the Thunderbird, and he didn’t regret a single cent. This car was his pride and joy. Sitting back, he pressed gently on the accelerator and the big V8 engine surged forward with a low bubbling growl.

  “Careful,” Scathach said, the first words she’d spoke in over three hundred miles. “We don’t want to get pulled over for speeding.”

  “I’m always careful.” Billy smiled.

  The red-haired woman straightened in the seat and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. She looked around. The road on either side was lost in t
he night, only briefly illuminated as the headlights washed over road signs. “Where are we?”

  “We’ve made good time. We’ve just gone through Barstow and turned onto Interstate 15. Maybe two and half hours to Vegas. We should arrive there with the dawn.”

  Scathach stretched, working her head up and down. Muscles popped. “You’ve been driving all night. How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine. I love driving. One of these days I think I’d like to drive from one side of the country to the other, coast to coast.”

  Scathach nodded. “I went by train a long time ago,” she offered. “I never really thanked you for this, did I? I know you didn’t exactly volunteer.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he admitted, and grinned. “But I didn’t think I was in a position to protest. I thought you were going to bite my head off. I didn’t realize you were a vampire.”

  “I don’t drink blood,” she said with a smile, deliberately showing her teeth. The dashboard lit her face from below, turning it into a terrifying mask. “My clan, the vampires—vampire with an i—are vegetarians. There are others, vampyres, with a y, who are blood drinkers.”

  “That’s good to know. I thought you were all blood drinkers. How can I tell the clans apart?”

  “You can’t. The best advice I can give you is to stay away from all of them. We’re bad news.”

  “Even you?” he teased.

  “Especially me.”

  Billy grimaced. “So,” he said, changing the subject. “Your friend who’s in trouble. What are you going to do?”

  “Rescue him.”

  “All on your own?”

  “You really have no idea who I am, do you?”

  The immortal shook his head. “Never heard of you before today.”

  “Well, let’s hope you never find out.”

  “Look …,” Billy began slowly. He’d been thinking as they drove. “I’m not real comfortable with the idea of you facing off against a bunch of vampyres—with a y—on your own. Maybe I could hang around and back you up.”