I was rapidly learning that enhanced senses didn’t mean shit if you weren’t paying attention. I had been so wrapped up in my little killing fantasy that I’d completely missed someone hiding in the shadows, waiting in ambush. I really had to learn to be a little less introspective in the future.
As the gun barrel prodded me forward, three more guys stepped from a bend in the alley. This wasn't exactly good news. Even so, it was also a safe bet that none of them were ninjas like that creep back in the club. The advantage might still be mine ... if I could avoid a barrage of bullets to the brain. Vampire healing aside, that didn't sound like much fun.
I was going to have to make this fast ... so I did, before I could psych myself out of it. The next time the gun owner gave me a push forward, I put everything I had into it. Spinning on my heel, I brought up my right arm. Before my would-be assailant's neurons could fire off a message telling his fingers to shoot, my fist collided with his wrist. I heard the snap of bone (not mine, which was cool), and the gun went flying off into the shadows. He screamed and doubled over, holding his shattered appendage.
I almost couldn't believe that worked. Standing there in front of him, I gloated, “You picked the wrong guy to fuck with tonight. When I'm through with...” CRUNCH!
Oh, yeah, forgot about the other assholes trying to mug me. Note to self: make sure all the bad guys are down before spouting off one-liners. In the meantime ... holy shit, that hurt! What connected with the back of my head had the consistency of a crowbar, which meant it probably was one. Stars exploded in front of my eyes and I found myself on the ground looking up as the three ... make that four (my lovely crack ho friend was joining in) remaining assailants started to stomp on me.
It wasn’t exactly my shining moment. However, before I could see whether or not I had enough left in me to mount a counterattack (my ego said yes, my logic center said doubtful), I heard a wet tearing noise. A second later, a human-shaped projectile flew into two of my attackers, knocking them away. Before any of us could make sense of what had just happened, a bloody fist erupted from the chest of the last guy standing above me. A gurgle escaped from his throat and he collapsed on top of me.
It only took a second to push his still-twitching body off, but it was pretty much all over by then. I looked up to see the prostitute – correction: pieces of the prostitute – being flung about. I sat up and caught a face full of her severed leg.
I finally had enough of being pummeled with body parts. Rolling to the side, I managed to push myself to my feet, ready to take down whatever gang banger was closest to me. Turns out, it was hard to tell. There were plenty of body parts close by, but I wasn't entirely sure they were all from the same person.
A faint whimper caught my attention. I looked just in time to see the last of my attackers have his head twisted completely around with a sickly snap that made my wrist break seem lame in comparison. The mugger dropped, boneless, to the alley floor, very much dead.
“That was ... well, there's no two ways about it. That was fairly pathetic,” said Ozymandias, stepping from the shadows.
“I took down one of them,” I lamely replied.
“Alas, two hundred is not exactly an outstanding batting average.”
I tried changing the subject away from my less than impressive fighting prowess. “What are you doing here?”
“Aside from saving you from an embarrassing beating? Seriously, you should have been able to take out attackers of this caliber without breaking a sweat. That aside, as I told you earlier, your reputation would be spreading after this weekend was over. I’ve heard that you've done a pretty good job of talking your way through things. However, talk only gets you so far amongst our kind.” He looked around at the carnage. “Congratulations on your first massacre. It shall not be your last.” He inclined his head to the side as if listening for something. “Now, if you'll excuse me. Try not to do anything silly like fall down and hurt yourself.”
He turned and disappeared down the far side of the alley, almost too quickly for my eyes to follow. Damn, maybe he had a point about those espressos.
I was standing there, looking in the direction he had run and contemplating my next move when I heard movement from the entrance of the alley. A few moments later, Night Razor came into view.
“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. 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 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
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 I'd make it through the entire evening without getting hit once.
Well, okay, so far I'd gotten hit several times, but most had come from people other than Jeff. 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 almost certainly contemplating handing out. While I'd love to fool myself into thinking he had doubts of being able to take me, 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 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 being 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 one – 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 and holding the cap of the fire hydrant he had just ripped open. “There. Now you don't look like you just stepped o
ut of a slaughterhouse.”
Fucker! Again, though, he had a point. I hadn't realized that I looked like someone who had run away from a murder scene (which, oddly enough, was pretty much what happened). Now I just had the appearance of someone who’d decided to take an impromptu dive into the Hudson.
“A little warning next time?” I growled.
“What fun would that be? Besides...,” 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 had unceremoniously announced we were done and then stalked off into the night. I didn't need an engraved letter to know that his body language clearly said don't follow. 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 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 started 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, one after the other, and simply said, “Get the fuck out.”
I didn’t need to say it twice.
Once the last vamp 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 from earlier was gone. 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 a 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. Starlight gave her a momentary look of pity and then raced past me. A second later, I heard the front door close.
As soon as that happened, Sally sighed and started to get out of bed. “I was just getting comfortable,” she complained.
“Milking it 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's 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 opened wide as my mind filled with the possibilities, but it emptied just as quickly once 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 be sure to 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 temperature was 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.
Bill The Vampire (The Tome of Bill Book 1) Page 15
