Kill them quickly, sweetheart. Jennifer has only a few minutes before it will be too late…
Samantha’s message to me – her voice caressing my thoughts with daring and urgency – jars me into offensive action. I do not ponder the impossibility of my next act. I merely act.
I race toward the Masters, screaming my death scream, sword in one hand, a Glok 5 semi-automatic drawn to my other.
I fully expect to taste Death any second.
It is here.
Now.
And I am ready for it.
* * *
But Death does not come for me.
However, it comes for others.
The world takes on a kind of surreal quality which is difficult to describe.
I watch as the Masters charge me, but they seem to move in slow motion. So slow, in fact, that I find I am able to decapitate the first Master closet to me without effort.
The head flies high into the air, as the Master’s body continues to run in a strange circle. It almost looks like a piece of performance art dance Francaise, but I have little interest in watching for long. Five Masters remain, their eyes redolent with fury. And they are charging from all points on the compass.
My Glok is up firing repeatedly (its raison d’etre for existence in Gun World) and the face of the next Master kinda just disappears in a spray of bone, blood and goo. I finish the job with another round-house slice of my sword, and it’s good-bye Mr. Master Head.
This is impossible, I say to myself. I have killed two Masters in the span of seconds, and it has been effortless. How?
And then the answer comes, gently, trippingly on my mental synapses.
Dracula and Samantha are using some of their vampire voodoo that Gastroni told me about. Somehow, they are reshaping time and the unfolding of events, slowing down the Masters in their attack against me.
With this conclusion happily nestled in my unconscious, I proceed with the mop-up chore of four remaining Masters.
My Glok runs clean, and I lose it, holding my sword with both hands, swinging like Mantle on his last day in The Show.
I disembowel two Masters simultaneously, their evil, pulsating hearts cleaved in two and falling onto the Dodger Stadium turf, much neglected by time and ennui. The air is filled with blood and vampire slop-essence.
I’m beginning to enjoy myself, but am immediately reminded of Jennifer’s rapidly decaying state from human to Point of No Return Vampire. That, and my friends hanging pitifully on wooden crosses in front of me.
Two Masters remain.
I glance behind myself very quickly. The Grand Master is walking casually toward me, Jennifer at his side. No doubt, to join the festivities.
I turn back and a Master lunges for me.
Amazingly, as I do not have time to swing my sword, I reach out – and grab the Master’s neck. I give a mighty pull, and trachea, along with masticated tissue and arteries fly forth like linguini Alfredo.
The Master’s hands reach for his throat in agony, as I ram my fist into his chest, and rip out his heart in one painfully simple move. The Master goes down to his knees and remains there, twitching in what I assume is a death rattle of sorts.
The remaining Master has however struck forth with a bit of luck. He has knocked the sword out of my hand, and now faces me, claws up, teeth dripping viscous drool, eyes as purple as the little purple helmet on the tip of my dick.
He, like the others, attacks with lugubrious velocity. He tries to side-swipe me, but I duck easily, ending up behind him, my right arm around his neck. I take my other hand, clasp it to my opposite elbow, and twist hard.
The Master’s neck snaps like dry timber. I then tear the head off and toss it behind my shoulder like a used condom.
Real time suddenly returns.
I leap onto the cart where Dracula and Samantha are bound.
“Hold on,” I whisper to both of them.
“No time, Dick,” Dracula says. “You still have one last battle ahead of you.”
I turn, as the Grand Master continues his luxurious stride toward me, a good fifty yards off as yet.
“How did you do that?” I ask. “How did you slow the Masters down like that?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Dracula breathes heavily.
“It was you,” Samantha wheezes.
I don’t understand.
“It was your power, Dick,” Dracula says.
I just shake my head, as I try to unbind the ropes to Samantha’s cross.
“You were near death when you suffered the attack at the airport. The only way to save you was to infuse much of my essence – my inherent vampiric power – into your physiology. As a result … well, you have a bit more advantage in fighting Masters, as you just learned. Unfortunately, it left me terribly weakened, and I did not see the Grand Master’s attack on the safe house in time, nor did I have sufficient strength to fight him. Hence, our capture.”
I look from Dracula into Samantha’s eyes.
“Don’t trouble yourself with us, darling,” she whispers. Blood oozes out of her mouth, as it does out of Dracula’s as well.
“We’re dying,” she coughs.
I shake my head, denial in full force. “No.”
“In a minute, something is going to happen, Dick. Be prepared for it.”
I stare, as tears stream down my cheek, and realize I am holding Samantha’s hand. I have ceased all efforts in trying to sever the binds that solidly hold my friends. I sense that to even try is an expenditure of unnecessary energy.
“I love you,” I whisper to Samantha.
“I love you, too,” she says, and she is also crying. “But I’ll always be with you. A part of me, anyway.”
“We must move on to another plane of existence, my friend,” Dracula says. “But we can give you the remaining power we possess. You will carry that power with you forever.”
“It will … it will make you the most powerful vampire in the world,” Samantha says.
And then I completely understand everything.
I am a vampire. Or a strange hybrid of vampire. As if reading my mind (and he probably is), Dracula nods wearily.
“Yes, you are a new species, Dick. And with our collective life force surging through you, you will walk in daylight with impunity, you will fear neither Church nor Cross, and you will not suffer the Hunger of vampires throughout history.”
“I don’t want this,” I say slowly.
“You have no choice,” Dracula says. “It is already done.” He pauses, and gives me is signature grin: “Look at the bright side – no more masturbation before midnight.”
And then both Dracula and Samantha take on a strange, iridescent glow.
“Thank you, my angel,” Samantha says. “Thank you for loving me. And if it is at all possible … I will be watching over you. Good-bye.”
I have to back up suddenly, and shield my eyes.
I turn, and see that the Grand Master has even covered his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks. Little Jennifer turns away, releasing the Grand Master’s hand and backing away from the monster.
Father Gastroni and Colonel Kellog turn their heads down, eyes squinted tightly shut.
Because I’m the biggest klutz God ever created, I take another step back, and fall ass over teacups from the cart onto the grass. I hit the ground painfully, but I cannot take my eyes off what is transpiring on the cart in front of me.
Dracula and Samantha have now become two orbs of brilliant, star-like light. They are spinning rapidly, like tops. The ropes that once bound them in human form disintegrate.
And now the orbs descend over me.
“Be well, Dick,” Dracula says, his voice an echo in my mind. “There is much work to be done. Remember us.”
“Remember me,” Samantha says softly.
And then the orbs that were once my friends envelopes me.
It is as if I have just been immersed in the most perfect bathwater imaginable. Warm tendrils of energy course through ev
ery limb, every cell. The feeling is galvanizing – I feel as if my body is experiencing a prolonged orgasm, starting at my toes, and ending at the top of my head. The joy is overwhelming.
I scream a scream of pleasure.
And then I open my eyes … aware that Dracula and Samantha are now dead. And that portion of them that was able to sustain themselves in this world, has been transferred over to me.
I look around – but now it is with my new vampire eyes, exponentially enhanced to the point where I can see even a fly on the top of the highest banister in the stadium with zero difficulty.
I look to the vampire children, who collectively hiss, creating a nightmarish noise that has no comparison in the human lexicon of vocal range.
The Grand Master stares at me from the pitcher’s mound.
“So,” he says. “You are one of us now.”
“Never like you,” I say, a new confidence in my voice.
He smiles at that.
I fly toward Gastroni and Kellog’s cart. I reach for their ropes and rip them away, again with effortless exertion.
“What the fuck just happened?” Kellog says, looking for the first time since I’ve known him to be somewhat out of control.
“Dracula and Samantha,” I say. “They’re gone.”
“May God bless them,” Father Gastroni says, and crosses himself solemnly.
I am still stricken with grief for the loss of Dracula, but a hundredfold for Samantha … yet I have no time to wail for the dead. Not here. Not now.
Several thousand little bloodsuckers are responsible for my delayed reaction to irreconcilable personal tragedy.
“This is bad,” Kellog states the obvious.
I turn back to the Grand Master. He remains fixed on the mound. Watching me in silence.
I decide I shall oblige him and make my move.
“I’m going to get Jennifer, gentlemen. And then we’re going to get the fuck-all out of here.”
I don’t tarry for a response.
The Grand Master awaits.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Very nice performance,” the Grand Master says easily. My eyes wander over to Jennifer, who is a good thirty feet away from me, on all fours like a dog, salivating and staring at me with livid fury and famishment.
“How long ago did you take her?” I ask the Grand Master.
He shrugs in what I assume is a kind of magnanimous gesture. “Not that it will matter to you, half-vampire, but the child is 15 minutes away from being forever lost.” He smacks his lips. “Tasty little bitch, I’ll give her that.”
I see that the Grand Master has not bothered to produce a weapon of any kind.
“I almost regret having to kill you, Inspector Pitts. You have been most challenging. Now that the Old Vampire and his whore-bitch are dead, you and I are alone. Alone to finish it all.”
I nod slowly. “Get ready for an express elevator ride to hell, plasma-pig.”
“You are confident because Dracula and the woman imparted some of their power to you. No matter. I will still break you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. You’re still more human than vampire. And that makes you terribly weak. You are still encumbered with fear and doubt. And your conscience –“
“Oh, Christ. You talk too much.”
And then I swing the sword.
The Grand Master surprises me and literally evaporates before my eyes.
“I am a chatty Cathy, I’ll give you that,” he says from behind me.
I turn. The Grand Master slaps the sword out of my hand. I hesitate for a micro-second, but it is enough time for the Grand Master to pick me up bodily and throw me into the air.
And quite a throw it is. This time I am aloft longer than the first airplane ride by the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk. Something more than 14 seconds, I can gather --
Suddenly, there is a stab of unequaled agony running through my body.
I look down at my mid-section … I have been impaled on some kind of construction piping up in the top section of the stadium. I am literally pinned like a fly.
Blood oozes from my body, but I still feel like I have considerable strength – and I realize that because of my newfound transformation, the wound I suffer now will eventually heal. Still … the Grand Master has me at a disadvantage, as I begin to pull myself along the pipe-beam in an attempt to free myself.
On top of that several little fang-fiends are running from fifty feet away, no doubt anxious to tear me limb from limb.
I can see Gastroni and Kellog even from here being cornered by child-turnovers. I know that they will be devoured within minutes. I have my .357 holstered, but my Glok remains on the grass below in the field – empty of rounds. And my sword is eighty yards away from the priest and good colonel. They are defenseless.
Jennifer looks up at me from below.
The Grand Master, however, decides to levitate up to me.
I free myself painfully from the beam, in time to slap three bloodsucking kinder off the balcony. So that once again, the Grand Master and I are alone.
He hovers in the air.
And I decide to join him, holding onto my leaking entrails.
There we are, nearly five hundred feet above Dodger Stadium, facing off against one another – suspended in mid-air.
Again, the Grand Master appears surprised.
“Very intriguing,” he says. “The Old One and the bitch gave you a lot to work with.”
“That’s what friends are for,” I smile, as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Please pass the Academy Award, if you would … because I’m terrified. And I hate heights.
“Let’s finish this, shall we?”
I nod. “Fine by me, you evil son of a bitch.”
The Grand Master releases a howl and lunges toward me. I meet his attack full on. As we tear into one another, we begin to descend. The blows we exchange could kill ten men collectively, but for the Grand Master and myself, they are stunning blows merely at best.
I am already healing myself, my midsection sewing itself up by magic, so I am free to utilize fists and cuffs.
I have only one sure-fire way I believe I can destroy the Grand Master … and it is only a hunch. If this does not work, we no doubt could go on assaulting one another for all eternity without one victor to surface.
I escape from a clutching hold the Grand Master has on me, and reach into my jacket pocket.
I pull out the crucifix that Samantha had given to me back at the house, yet I do so surreptitiously so that the Grand Master cannot see.
Predictably, he thinks that I am tiring.
He flies at me once more, open mouthed, fangs dripping all kinds of foul saliva-shit.
This time I do not engage him in the body tackle.
Instead, the hand I hold the crucifix within lashes out. I shove the cross into the Grand Master’s mouth, with sufficient force to send it speeding down his vile throat.
The Grand Master swallows hard, and then stares at me in horror.
“What – have – you – done?”
“Just rammed the fear of God into you, pal. Send me a postcard from hell if you’d like.”
The Grand Master backs away from me, eyes wide. His body begins to tremble in mid-air, and I could swear he is beginning to bloat.
“NOOOOO!” he screams to no one in particular.
I float a few feet away from him, and watch the paroxysm of horror begin.
The Grand Master now begins to spin on his own axis, gaining rotational speed, until he is a screaming blur.
Suddenly, he stops. His eyes meet mine. They are bulging, agonized. His body now looks like a huge melon.
“You win, man-vampire,” he hisses.
And then he explodes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I am, not for the first time, again enslimed from head to toe by the residue of a sworn enemy. I drip Grand Master goo.
I look down at the field below.
Jennifer
continues to stare up at me, hissing.
And then I look to Gastroni and Kellog, as a thousand little vampiric tykes move continuously from the grand stands, onto the field, ready to take part in the human repast to come.
I dive toward them, making a mental note to myself that I am now technically flying – this time, under my own volition and steam.
Gastroni and Kellog look up as I approach them, either arm outstretched.
“Grab on!” I yell.
Gastroni and Kellog do not hesitate. As I slow to a screeching halt, just a few feet above the grass, the priest and Kellog hold fast to either arm.
I then shoot up twenty feet, well above the madding crowd of kiddy bloodthirstiness.
“Kellog, grab Jennifer,” I say.
“Yes, sir!” he responds instinctively.
I fly over to where Jennifer paws at the air in an attempt to drag me out of the sky. But Kellog is swift and deft in his capture of the child, and in a second, he’s holding her tight as she screams and hisses in protest.
I rise above the grandstands, and then land softly on the parking lot asphalt, only a few feet from the Esplanade.
“We only have a few minutes,” I pant to Gastroni and Kellog. “After that, Jennifer is one of them.”
“Where to?” Gastroni asks.
“Nearest hospital is County. Can you get us there quickly?”
“Not a problem, Inspector.”
“Why don’t you just fly her over, Dick?” Gastroni asks. “You seem to have a newfound gift.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. This new power – I feel it has limitations at the moment. I wouldn’t make it all the way. And then I’d be forced to land and try to run her there. We wouldn’t make it.”
“Get in,” Kellog says. “In a second, you’re going to think you’re flying on God’s Harley.”
I nod, holding Jennifer tight, as she snarls and gnashes her teeth in animal fury. Little Prick looks at us from within the car – and then at Jennifer. He yowls and disappears from sight.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” I whisper to Jennifer even as she growls at me like a rabid ferret.
Monster Vice Page 24
