Supernatural Vigilante series Box Set

by D. R. Perry

  Vampires get a set of talents in common. Speed, strength, frowning at bullets instead of screaming and bleeding. With time and training, we learn stuff like invisibility. We get better senses than anything but werewolves, too, and then there are the freaky Gifts. These are individual and obscure skills. Nobody can predict what they'll be until they happen.

  And what's happening now is that I'm getting visions from dead blood. When I puke it up. Awesome with a side of suck sauce. Shh, I’m trying to watch the movie in my mind.

  It’s the office at the Broad Street studio, and my perspective is from the floor. Cigarettes is tamping one out that’s almost down to the butt. After that, he kicks out with one foot, and I’m rolling. Scratchy woolen fabric plagues my skin like a poison ivy rash.

  “Just want you to know, it ain’t personal.” Cigarette’s voice is raspy as ever. “Like the poet says, nobody beats a rug. It’s the dust inside they want.”

  "The Boss will kill you for this. He's got ways to make it look like misadventure."

  "Just so happens there's someone more important to me than him. Them's the breaks."

  Cigarettes lays down another rug, then rolls me again. After that I can’t talk because there’s something cottony in my mouth. And then I can’t see. The rug gets beaten. And that’s why I didn’t smell blood. I spill something about the fishes getting revenge for everyone we dump on them. After that, the mind I’m goes empty and everything fades in a fog.

  And I’m back to myself. Sort of. I’m still spewing but aware that it’s chunks of ash now. I try to stop but can’t. It’s from Esther’s potion, which is everywhere, but mostly all over Kayleigh and me. I can’t stand, so I crawl toward the kitchen.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—” Esther slaps her hand over Scott’s dishtowel-covered mouth before he can say my name.

  I can’t speak, so I hurl again. The potion’s on my clothes. Esther grabs the sprayer in the sink and hoses me down, washing away the nauseating stuff. I feel like a wet Vampire Retriever. Maybe I look like one too, I don’t know. But the improv shower works. I stop puking.

  Before I get up, I chug all the blood bags in my opera cloak as fast as I can. I burn most of it to heal the sections of gut I lost in the unintentional purge. Esther’s magic watch beeps, the signal that the puke bombs have worn off. We get back into the living room to find Kayleigh and her guns gone, but I can smell her in another room. So can Scott.

  “Wood this time.” Scott taps his nose, then unzips the duffel. He can tell what the ammo is through walls. I try to be grateful instead of jealous. I fail because I suck at beating down envy and let him go first. Taking turns at being inhuman shields was part of our plan, anyway, but the plexiglass riot shield he’s now carrying doesn’t hurt.

  Down the hall are a bedroom and a bathroom. I already know Kayleigh’s in the bedroom, so I point. I hear a rustle of paper behind me as Esther takes something yellow from a pouch. She slaps it on the wall. It’s a sticky note with her wonky alchemic writing all over it. That script is almost like the Post-it I found on my car, but spidery instead of fat-handed.

  And I watch the wall dissolve. I shit you not. It’s almost like watching lights come up on the opaque side of one-way glass, except completely different. A cop in interrogation knows that’ll happen. Kayleigh isn’t expecting this.

  She’s reaching for the shelf over Esther’s bed, a row of trinkets and keepsakes. Her eyes go wide like the time we rescued a flipped-over turtle that turned out to be dead. I open my mouth to ask her why. Why murder? Not every kid has to go into the family business.

  But Esther dashes through the hole in the wall. She hip-checks Kayleigh, knocking her off-balance so she can’t draw her pistols. It's like her right leg weighs more than it should. And then alchemist reaches for the last thing I’d have expected—a creepy little blonde doll. It’s got that glittery green glow around it, too, like Esther’s hands when she does magic.

  Kayleigh regains her footing and uses it to aim a kick at Esther’s head. I’m blocked by Scott, who charges through the door. Except I don’t know it’s him at first because he’s got a wolfy head and hairy paw-hands like Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf. I can see them through the riot shield.

  “That’s why!” Kayleigh aims at Scott and lets silenced bullets fly, toasting the shield. She glances down at her pistols, nose wrinkled. She drops them and pulls two more from a line of holsters under her coat. It’s like something out of Boondock Saints, a movie Kayleigh couldn’t watch without covering her eyes.

  That was then, this is now.

  I know she’ll shoot silver this time. I get in the way again, even though I’m fresh out of Kevlar and blood.

  “Why, Kayleigh?”

  The bullets hit me. One, two, three. Punctures punctuate syllables. I hiss. Her eyes narrow. Lines at their corners draw me closer. She draws another set of guns. I step, grab, and throw, a move from my days at the Academy.

  She’s a brick, falling slowly. Her back hits a dust- and marble-topped antique vanity table, mirror included. Bullets chew through the wall over Scott’s head. Reflective shards fly, silver-backed, bad luck city. I open the opera cape and they patter against it, then tinkle on the hardwood. Scott growls behind me. I raise my hand and kneel beside Kayleigh.

  Her legs aren’t moving, but her forehead’s got that crease. You know the one. No, you do. It’s the line between the eyes, the one that says, “I’m doing the thing.” But this time, it’s saying, “Why won’t the thing work?” Kayleigh’s gaze turns up, cutting through mine. It could cut diamonds, it’s so sharp.

  “Fuck you, Valentino.”

  “So much for my disguise.” I shrug with one shoulder.

  “You better not have broken my back.” Kayleigh shuts her eyes. When they open, tears stand at the corners like guards. I don’t know how she’s managing to talk because she’s got to be in ten worlds of hurt.

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t let you shoot my friends.”

  “You’re monsters.”

  She’s right, we are. But she’s also wrong because I’m learning that being a monster is less about your physical details and more about how you decide to use them.

  “I know. But we’re still, well, ourselves, so I hope you’ll tell me why. Why shoot us? Why shoot my dad? And Maury’s partner?”

  She blinks. Her tears shimmer, threatening to fall and unleash an army of their fellows, but she holds them back somehow.

  “I never killed Larry; he’s human. I did the other Tierney, though. And you were my target, not your dad. Why can’t I move my legs, Tino?”

  “I’m sure it’s only temporary.” I’m not, but I have a crazy idea as usual. I know nothing about the long-term consequences. I hesitate.

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, really. I think you’ll be okay, Kayleigh, if we can figure this out. But you’re getting into stuff, setting yourself against people you can’t possibly take on alone.”

  “So the vampire ex-boyfriend is doing all this for the girl’s own good? What is this, a Twilight movie?”

  “You can’t fucking reason with shit-for-brains hunters.” Esther’s pointing a finger at Kayleigh. Her other hand holds a glowing green Post-it. I already know what those do. “Get out of the way, bloodmunch.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, only good hunter’s a dead one.”

  “You can’t kill her.”

  “She broke in here and tried to trash my place.” Esther has got to know she’s done more to break stuff in here than Kayleigh. What was it that Raven said about property damage and alchemy? But it’s her apartment, after all.

  “This isn’t Florida, and we don’t have Stand Your Ground.”

  “Fuck you sideways with a chainsaw.”

  “Yeah, okay, in a minute. I’m just trying to figure out why a vegetarian whose childhood dream was joining the Peace Corps goes into the wetwork business.”

  “Fair enough. But you can’t make allies out of hunters, Tino.”


  “I’ll remember that, Esther.”

  “You told her my name, asshole.”

  “I knew it already, Ms. Solomon. And where you live.” Kayleigh sticks out her tongue.

  I can’t help it. I laugh. A series of canine snorts from behind me indicates that if I’m crazy, Scott’s along for the ride. He’s a good guy to have around, I guess. Or a seriously effective enabler. I’m not sure which.

  “So Kayleigh, are we talking here?” I look in her eyes and almost melt. Almost doesn’t count. Instead of an old memory about Kayleigh, my mind conjures up Maya. Huh.

  “Okay, we’re talking.” She closes her eyes. The line between them eases, but its ghost sticks around. “I was a teenage rebel. It’s the family business.”

  “Assassination?”

  “Hunting.”

  “Oh.” It’s my turn to blink. “But why for the Mafia, and why now?”

  “Because we need the money.” She cuts her eyes away. “No, not me and Dad. We as in me and my fiancé, Calvin. He’s in a coma, and that’s expensive.”

  “Oh, shit, Kayleigh. I’m sorry.”

  “It was ruled an accident. Brain injury. We’ll run out of money to keep him on life support if I don’t do this Mafia infiltration thing.”

  “Wait.” I straighten, staring down at her. “Infiltration?”

  “Yeah. The money will keep Cal alive while I get revenge on the vampire who fucked him up in the first place.”

  “What vampire?” I think I already know, but I want to hear it from her.

  “I don’t know, but he’s pulling the Caprice’s strings, and me and Dad can’t touch him because of that.” She shakes her head. “He made the hit list. It’s hard to describe him. Average everything, would go unnoticed if he didn’t wear white zoot suits like a moron.”

  “I know that guy, and he sucks.” I take a leap of faith and make an offer I hope she won’t refuse. “You want me on the case?”

  “Tino, I’m supposed to kill you.” She slows down like someone explaining things to a kid. I let that slide, trying to cool my jets.

  “Yeah, and if I fix this problem, you don’t have to.”

  “Look, it’s not just the hit list. My entire family thinks monsters should die, even if they’re behaving themselves. I still don’t agree with that, but I’m the newest hunter, and my opinions don’t count for much.”

  “Man, I know how that feels.” I shake my head. “Anyway, I’m going after Mister Zoot Suit for other reasons. Might as well pool resources.”

  “Fine, but Calvin’s problem isn’t going away. Even if you distract or off that vamp, you can’t fix it all.”

  “Maybe he fucking can.” Esther can’t even be hopeful without tossing in a four-letter word. Of course.

  “What do you mean?”

  “So fucking typical.” Esther shakes her head. “You know my name, my damned address, and you don’t know jack or shit about what an alchemist does.”

  “I think Esther’s got an idea about the other half of your problem.”

  “I can fix your man if the vampire and the werewolf help.”

  “Really?” Kayleigh doesn’t seem to mind that Esther spaced on the finance detail. Being in a coma is expensive.

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  “What about my legs?” She clenches her teeth. “Still can’t move them.”

  “Here.” I turn so she doesn’t see me bite my wrist and will blood into the bottle I swiped from Esther’s supplies. Ironic, using my blood to heal someone who made me spill so much of it. I hand the vial to Kayleigh.

  “What is it?” She tries to lock gazes with me, but at that moment, my will is blue steel.

  “Health potion. Doctor Horrible’s Leg Tonic. Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. Just drink it.” I can’t tell her the truth because she might refuse it, but even I’m not sure exactly how it works or what side-effects she’ll experience. It’s not the kind of medicine with an FDA-approved list of side-effects.

  She uncorks it. “Down the hatch.” After drinking, she makes a face, the one everyone pulls when they suck the lime after a tequila shot. “Ugh. What was that?”

  “You don’t want to know.” My blood has healing properties when used quickly enough. I wonder if Esther’s plan for fixing Calvin involves it, too. I clench my jaw, trying not to breathe so I don’t get hungry.

  I’m all smiles as Kayleigh wiggles her feet and stretches her legs. She sits up and holsters all the guns she dropped faster than I expect. After brushing bits of glass out of her hair, she stands. It’s awesome because she was almost paraplegic. I remember her running bases at the old lot we played stickball in. Hope for a good ending in all of this conjures Maya's optimism to my mind again. Maybe she’s right, and it’s not so bad, being what we are. Kayleigh tells us what room Cal is in at Kent County Hospital and that his last name is Kelley. Esther nods.

  “This truce between us is only temporary, Tino.” I already know it is but I have hope she’ll break rules and change minds in the hunter community. After all, I’m trying to do the same thing on the vampire side.

  “You decide terms when it comes to me, Kayleigh. But leave my friends out of it.”

  I hear a murmured “Fuck, yeah” from Esther and something like “aroo” from Scott because he’s still wolfed out. What did you expect me to do, anyway? Leave my friends hanging? No way. I told them I’d look out for them, and vampires keep promises.

  “They’re not on my list, so fine.” Kayleigh pauses at the hole in Esther’s bedroom wall. “But this deal is just with me, remember.”

  “What?”

  “The Caprices only gave me one of their lists, and monster hunting is a family business.” She takes one last look over her shoulder. “Don’t get in Dad’s way. You know what he’s like.”

  Yeah, I do. Ornery with a side of mean. “I’ll remember that.” The words come out garbled because my fangs won’t go back in.

  I need blood, and there’s none in Esther’s apartment that’s not inside my friends’ bodies. There are only so many more minutes I’ll be able to control myself. No, seconds is all I’ve got. Kayleigh has left the building, but Esther and Scott are right there in my path. And this time, even Scott’s gamy scent isn’t putting me off. They both smell delicious.

  I open my mouth, about to quip something like “You won’t like me when I’m hungry”’ but the joke gets lost in the slipstream around the sound of their hearts pumping blood. When I try telling them to run, I hiss instead. The edges of my vision go red.

  I thirst.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Esther sprints out the bedroom door, which makes sense. She’s running away. Scott plays the typical teenager card, Bad Idea. He runs toward the hungry vampire, growling. I rush at him, fangs forward.

  We clash. I bite. Tufts of fur fill my mouth, and my fangs can’t dig in. I spit it out. Old hand-to-hand muscle memory kicks in, and I sweep his legs. We fall. He grabs me around the waist and kips us both up. I strike like a cobra, aiming for the jugular.

  I make contact, but get a mouthful of fur again. A chiming sound from the next room comes with the scent of burning herbs. I spit fur again. Wolfman Scott’s got a bald patch on his neck now. I lunge again. It’s growing back before my eyes.

  Scott’s weird hand-paw thing ends up in my mouth. I splutter, but he’s got me. It’s like the time me, Ma, and Dad got hopelessly lost on vacation in Florida and ended up at a gator-wrestling show. The old dude put a metal pipe in the alligator’s mouth vertically. Scott’s paw is so huge, I can’t open my mouth wider to dislodge it. Just like that poor reptile, I’m captive. Or at least my fangs are.

  I can’t burn blood to get faster now because I'm out of everything but what keeps me awake. If anything, my strength increases. I unleash a flurry of punches on Scott’s midsection, but it’s like werewolves are the ultimate holdback friend for vamps. You know what I mean. The buddy you have who, when you’ve got to punch a dude on principle, holds you back so you don’t get arres
ted. Anyway, Scott’s making a noise that sounds more like laughter than screaming.

  But we’re at as much of a stalemate as when Kayleigh had her guns out. Except no, we’re not. I’m going to run out of steam in a minute and zonk. Not good. Vamps going unconscious from lack of blood oversleep on an epic scale. If I don’t get blood or have someone to conk me out soon, I’m not waking up for years.

  Scott’s taking the punishment I can dish out pretty well, but it’s got him on the defensive. He can’t knock me out or fully subdue me. I hiss around his hand and wish I could pray instead. I might be a vampire, but I was raised a good Roman Catholic boy. What do you want from me?

  The chiming sound from the other room turns into humming. I’m not talking about the noise a fridge makes or that tone when someone hangs up on you. This is like a person, a little girl maybe, doesn’t know the words to a song but wants everyone to hear the tune.

  The humming’s right behind me now. A hand curls around my arm. It’s not one of Scott’s. It’s bigger, and it has no claws. I try to shake it off, my body responding by hunger instinct instead of the way my higher brain wants it to. But the hand doesn’t budge.

  I shake my head, hissing as I try to dislodge Scott’s paw. I don’t have to. He moves it and steps back. That humming creeps me out. It doesn’t sound human, and at first, I’m not sure why. It’s a voice directly behind me, but no breath moves my hair. And something else about whoever’s back there isn’t human either.

  No heartbeat.

  I snarl, using the same weight shift that ended with Kayleigh’s broken back, but the thing holding me doesn’t flip. It’s too heavy, like Esther's leg. Instead it turns me around so I can look in its face. After that, the fight goes out of me like air from a deflating balloon.

  It’s a doll’s face, the one Esther grabbed off the shelf earlier. Except its fake plastic features are human-sized with creepy doll proportions. It’s like a toddler she-Hulk with blonde hair. The skin is pink, overlaid with a pale green with a sparkle to it, like all the rest of Esther’s magic.