by Shéa MacLeod
I rubbed my forehead. I had an almighty headache coming on. I didn’t do well on lack of sleep, and the crazy dreams I’d been having were wreaking havoc with my sleep patterns.
Sleep wasn’t an option. I doubted I’d be able to relax anyway. I decided a very large cup of coffee was in order. When all else failed, drink coffee, preferably by the gallon.
I staggered into the kitchen only to find Inigo sitting at my table. I frowned at him, then at my back door. It was one of those sliding glass patio doors with the little screws at the bottom, the kind that couldn’t be opened from the outside short of breaking the glass. The door was still firmly closed, the screws still tightly in place.
I turned and walked down the hall to my front door. Still locked with the safety latch in place. Not impervious to breaking and entering, but certainly unlikely, what with the safety latch and all.
I did a complete circuit of the house, checking every window in the place. All of them were closed and locked up tight. I walked back into the kitchen, still frowning.
“I give up. How’d you do it?”
He gave me an impish grin, his blue eyes sparkling merrily. “I’ll never tell.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest which drew my attention to his very well formed pectoral region. Maybe I needed a cold shower instead of coffee.
“Honestly, Inigo, you’ve really got to stop breaking into my house.”
“And spoil all the fun?”
I rolled my eyes and got to work on the coffee. I dumped some of my favorite Italian roast beans into the coffee grinder and whizzed them before adding them to the French press. It was my humble opinion that coffee from a French press just tasted nicer than drip coffee. Plus there was that whole Zen thing that came from the ceremony of making coffee. I dumped sugar and creamer into my mug (Yum!) and left Inigo’s pure.
I sat the mug in front of him and tried really hard not to drool over the muscles his T-shirt didn’t quite hide. I should probably write Congress about the indecency of Hanes T-shirts or something. I cleared my throat. “So, to what do I owe this, uh, pleasure?”
He flashed a devilish grin. Cheeky. “I heard you broke into Darroch’s house last night.”
“How’d you hear that?” It was not something Kabita would have shared with him. She was generally close mouthed about my crazier excursions. She didn’t want to encourage him.
He shrugged. “I’ve got my sources.” Yeah. Inigo and his sources. “I also heard you finally met your Sunwalker.”
“Geez, the grapevine works fast. Yeah, I did. And he’s not my Sunwalker.” I scowled at him over my coffee mug. The steam brought a slight flush to my cheeks. Honest, it was just the steam. Nothing else.
He raised a single brow. He’d either been spending too much time around Kabita, or this was some weird family trait.
“Did you also hear I was attacked by a vampire after my date with the loser?”
He laughed. “Yeah, Kabita mentioned something.”
“Did she tell you that he was Kaldan’s flunky and that Darroch hired Kaldan to have me followed?”
He frowned and took a sip of his coffee. “No, she didn’t mention that.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so. She seems to be ignoring a lot of things lately.” I took a sip of my coffee then dumped in another spoonful of raw sugar. Better.
He leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on I don’t know about?”
I shrugged. “Depends on what you know. Did you know Darroch is connected? As in government connected?” He shook his head, so I quickly ran down my conversation with Kabita for him. By the end, he was frowning even harder than he’d been before, which I hadn’t known was possible. His blue eyes were like twin shards of ice, so coldly angry. This was beyond furious. “OK, Inigo, now what do you know that I don’t know?”
He shook his head. “I need to deal with a few things, Morgan. I might be gone for a while. Do you think you can deal with things while I’m gone? Hunt Kaldan’s flunky, keep the Sunwalker under control and alive?”
“Uh, sure, no problem.” Well, the hunting part would be no problem, but controlling the Sunwalker was another matter entirely. I wasn’t about to get into it with Inigo, though, especially not before I’d finished my coffee.
Chapter Eight
After Inigo left on his oh so mysterious errand, I hopped in the shower. Nothing like coffee and a hot shower to get a girl revved up for hunting vamps. I lathered up with my favorite Champneys rose body wash. So, I had one girlie indulgence. Sue me.
I slapped on a little makeup, blew my hair dry, squidged in a bit of hair gunk so I had the whole spiky windswept thing going on and considered it good enough for hunting. I learned long ago that full war paint on a hunt was completely pointless. Vampires didn’t much care if you wore eyeliner and you usually ended up looking like a raccoon within the first fifteen minutes of a hunt. Better to go minimalist than end up looking like Tammy Faye Baker after a crying jag.
Not that there’s anything wrong with Tammy Faye. I quite liked her, actually. Just didn’t plan on asking her for makeup tips, should we ever happen to meet.
A few minutes later, I was dressed in my standard outfit of jeans and black T-shirt and standing in front of my closet contemplating footwear. I sort of had a thing for boots. Most girls went all gooey for a pair of spiky heeled Manolos or strappy Jimmy Choos. Not me. With me, it was all about the boots. Preferably knee high leather waffle stomper types with serious ass-kicking capabilities. Doc Martins were a particular favorite. And if you could hide a retractable blade in the toe, so much the better.
Hunting usually required a lot of walking, possibly some running, and the absolute certainty of getting lots of icky things like blood and brains and other stuff on your shoes. Spiky and strappy might look hot on the dance floor, but they did not make for good hunting wear.
I decided on my favorite pair of hunting boots. They were like army boots gone bad. They laced up all the way to the knee and the leather was supple enough to give me a good range of movement; plus they were a lot lighter than they looked. I could not only kick bad-guy ass, I could run like hell if I needed to, which, frankly, I’d rather not. Running was so not my thing.
I turned to give myself a critical once-over in the mirror. Didn’t want to go out with something hanging out that shouldn’t. Except it wasn’t my reflection staring back at me from the mirror.
He wore chain mail and a dirty white tabard with a dull red cross on the front. His long hair was tangled and coated in dust so it looked nearly gray. Blood seeped through a cut on his stubbled chin, while his fist clutched a gory falchion sword. Screams of dying men abraded my ears; the stench of death stained my nostrils. I swallowed hard as eyes the color of a sun drenched ocean glared back at me. I knew those eyes.
I closed my own eyes, took a deep breath, and looked again. This time my own moss-green eyes stared back. Just me. Only me. The warrior was gone, but I knew who he was. He was the knight I’d been dreaming about. The one who’d been attacked in the cave by the ancient vampire, the one who’d felt so familiar. The one who looked suspiciously like Jack right down to the little nick on his chin. And now he was invading my waking life as well as my dreams. So not good.
I pushed the vision away and headed out the door. I’d face all this weirdness later. Much later. Right now I had a vampire to find.
***
I loved my car, I really did. These days with the whole energy crisis thing, it was not entirely PC to love your car, but I did.
Ever since I was a kid, I’d wanted a Mustang. Not just any Mustang, either, but a classic red one. So, the minute I moved back to the US, I bought myself a beautiful 1965 Mustang in mint condition. Then I pulled an act so sacrilegious it’d probably get me hanged in some circles. I yanked out the gas guzzling V8 engine and put in an Eco-friendly electric engine. It no longer had the throaty grumble of a classic muscle car, but it could go fast enough and it didn’t spew crap into the air.
I had just pulled out of the drive when my mobile rang. It was Cordelia. I frowned. How odd. I pulled over and let the car idle by the curb while I took the call. “Hey, Cordelia. What’s up?”
“Are you OK?”
Was I OK? Now that was a loaded question. “Um, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
She paused for rather longer than I thought necessary. “Something is awakening in you, Morgan,” she said softly. “It has me worried. I’m not sure you’re ready to handle it.”
Something was awakening in me? What on earth did that mean? “I’m fine, Cordelia, really. Just a bit tired.” I rubbed the middle of my forehead where a headache was starting to form.
“So, you haven’t been … seeing things?”
Crap. “Just, um, some weird dreams, you know. But that’s all they are. Just dreams.”
“So, nothing in the waking world?” she probed.
Great. Just great. How did she know I was seeing things? “I’m fine, Cordelia.” It wasn’t an answer, but I wasn’t about to let her know I was seeing Crusaders in my bedroom mirror. That just sounded nuts. “I’ve just got a vampire to hunt, an amulet to find and I’ve got to figure out how to save the life of a bloody Sunwalker. I’m a little stressed.” My voice was going a little high pitched and whiny. I hated when it did that.
“So, you’ve discovered the Sunwalker is more than he seems?” I could hear the smile in her voice. In fact, her voice sounded downright smug.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ve gotta go. Vampire to hunt, remember?”
She laughed and for a minute my headache went away. “OK, Morgan. Go get your vampire. You might want to check the Waterfront tonight.”
The Waterfront. Right. “Sure. I’ll do that. Thanks, Cordelia.”
***
I liked the Waterfront. Much like the Park Blocks, Waterfront Park was one of those odd mixtures of peacefulness and energy. It sliced its way through the heart of the city along the seawall right on the edge of the Willamette River. If Pioneer Courthouse Square was considered Portland’s living room, then Waterfront Park was its playground. All summer long it played host to a plethora of festivals from the Blues Festival to the Bite of Portland. When it wasn’t acting as the site of a citywide party, it was the home away from home for skate boarders, a romantic spot for couples in love, and a fun place for kids and grownups alike to escape the heat in its giant fountain. And through it all there was the river rushing on its way toward the ocean.
I might have been an air sign, but I’d always had a bit of a thing for water. I might’ve preferred wind to rain, but give me a raging river or a pounding ocean and I was a happy girl. So, I guess if I had to hunt a vampire, the Waterfront was the place to do it.
I parked the car a couple of blocks from the Waterfront. The World Trade Center buildings were near the Waterfront, and ever since 9/11, parking had been restricted due to security concerns. It was a pain, but what could you do?
I always carried a couple of weapons on me. Never knew when they’d come in handy. I rarely weaponed up fully, however, until I’d actually found the vamp I was looking for. This time, though, Cordelia had given me the heads up, and I was starting to realize that when Cordelia gave you the heads up, you’d better listen, so I was going in fully loaded. In addition to my usual built-in boot knife and favorite bra stiletto knife, I slid a small sword into its sheath which was slung at an angle across the back of my leather jacket, strapped a blade bracelet on each of my wrists, and slipped a couple of silver tipped metal spikes into my belt.
I once had a conversation with a monk who told me the Catholic Church still prefers old school slaying: wooden stakes and holy water. That’s all well and good for a six foot monk with enough muscle to bench press a Volkswagen, but trust me, shoving a wooden stake into someone’s ribcage was no easy task and the holy water was just for show. A metal stake through the heart would kill a vamp just as dead as a wooden one. Not to mention you could get the point a lot sharper on a metal stake, so it went in a heck of a lot easier.
In addition to my other weapons, I had a new toy I was itching to try out. I got all my weapons from Tessalah because she was the best in the business. If you needed to kill a demon, slay a dragon, or dust a vampire, you went to Tessalah. If she didn’t have a weapon that could kill it, she’d invent one. And if she couldn’t invent one, then you were pretty much out of luck.
My new toy looked something like an aspirator for babies. The bulb was glass which had been infused with magic so it was flexible like rubber. The magic gave a faintly purple luminescence to the clear glass. The bulb was bracketed by thin bands of sterling silver which in turn attached to the thin needle-like neck of the aspirator, also made of sterling silver over steel.
Instead of sucking baby boogers, this aspirator supposedly killed vamps. Theoretically, the silver neck was stabbed into the vampire and then the bulb was squeezed, injecting salt water straight into the vampire. Salt water acted on vampires very much like acid in humans. Ejecting it straight into the body would essentially melt it from the inside out. Uber cool. I’d yet to try it out, but I was sure it’d work just fine. Tessalah had a way with magical weapons.
The lights glinted off the water, turning the river into a Monet reflection of the city. I’d seen numerous photographs and paintings try to recreate that image, yet not a single one did it justice.
I breathed in the night, reveling in the glory that was darkness. Sometimes I worried if I wasn’t a little too much like the creatures I hunted, loving the night as I did. To me the night had never been about fear. Most nights, the darkness wrapped itself around me like a well-worn blanket and asked me to stay awhile. Tonight was no different.
As I strolled along the waterfront, I wrapped the night around me like a cloak, sending my essence, my spirit, wandering out into the darkness. I drew strength from it, energy from it, like most creatures draw from the sun.
I stopped dead. OK, so maybe tonight was different. I’d always loved the night, but I’d never gone all esoteric about it. Sending my essence out? What the heck was that all about?
So, I did what any sane person would do. I did it again. I let my senses go rushing out through the darkness and I felt them, the lives, spirits, along the waterfront. A man, human, trying to sleep curled on a park bench. Three boys were smoking pot and talking smack over by the giant anchor. Two were human, but the other … He was something else, something other. Not evil, not vampire, just trying to be normal, human.
Further down there were two more, a man and a woman. I frowned. The human was a bright fire, hazed by overwhelming lust. She wanted sex and she wanted it now. The man was dim and overwhelmed by … hunger. I felt it burning in my veins as that slow, throbbing ache I knew so well began to build at the base of my skull. Hunger to rip and tear and drink. Hunger for flesh and blood.
My senses snapped back into my body and suddenly I was running, drawing in the energy of the night to carry my feet faster and faster along the sidewalk. The river flashed by. The old man asleep on the bench didn’t even stir. The boys started, the one stiffening in fear. I could feel them relax as I flashed by, the non-human one letting out a sigh of relief. And finally the couple locked in a passionate and hungry embrace.
I grabbed her with my left hand, wrenching her away from him with more strength than I knew I had while catching the vampire by the arm with my right. She tumbled to the ground with a cry. Through vision gone strangely hazy I saw her throat unblemished. Good, I’d gotten to her in time.
She gazed up at me with eyes full of terror. “Go,” I snapped. Then I turned to the vampire, ignoring her while she scrambled to her feet and ran.
It was the blond vamp who’d attacked me at the restaurant. I recognized him instantly. My lips drew back in a feral grin.
He snarled back, flashing fang.
With a flick of the wrist, I unleashed my left blade from its bracelet and plunged it into the vampire’s chest. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite as good with my left hand as with my right, and with the awkward angle, I missed his heart.
Adding to my misfortune, whatever weirdness had let me cross eight blocks worth of space in less than a minute had now deserted me. The shadows receded and the night was just the night again. I was just me. And the vamp was a hell of a lot stronger.
With a scream of rage, he wrenched the blade out of his chest and sent me flying across the park to land with a jarring thud next to the ship’s anchor which stood in the middle of the park. Fortunately, I landed on the grass instead of the monument itself, but it still hurt like hell.
The boys gaped at me for a minute then scattered into the night, the non-human one pausing for just a moment before following his friends. Smart boys.
I staggered to my feet pretty sure nothing was broken, just badly banged up. He was much, much stronger than I’d expected. I pulled my sword from the sheath across my back. It was made of ultra-light steel and edged in silver. It went through a vampire with hardly a hint of resistance. I was so not messing around with this guy.
His eyes flashed red in the darkness and he tossed his blond hair back with a laugh. “Stupid Hunter,” he jeered. “You think your little knife can hurt me? You are pathetic!”
“Oh, come on,” I goaded him. “I don’t know why you vampires always insist on taunting Hunters. I mean, for gods’ sake, it’s like bad B movie dialogue. Bram Stoker would have been so embarrassed.”
He hissed angrily. “Fine. Why don’t I just kill you then?” He stalked toward me. His eyes were very definitely red. Vampire should have been a bit colorless, like all the color they had in life got leached out after death. Red was most definitely weird.
