Vampire Uprising

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  “Please!” someone shouted from the living room. “Just get out of here! I’m sorry about the car!”

  The Nymar turned toward Cole and opened his mouth to show the murky venom dripping from curved upper fangs. Cole twisted away so the paralytic substance was spat onto his borrowed jacket instead of his face. Before the Nymar could come up with another trick to tip the scales back in his favor, Cole reeled him in. When the Nymar stumbled toward him, Cole drove one leg straight out to bury his foot in the vampire’s midsection, dropping him to his knees with a huffing grunt.

  “Cole? Where’d you go?”

  Standing over the Nymar with his spear in a bloody grip, he responded, “In here, Paige.”

  She hurried into the bedroom wielding her baton. “You found another one?”

  “Yeah. I think he’s got something to say.” Giving the spear a little twist, Cole bent the Nymar’s hand in the wrong direction and said, “Isn’t that right?”

  The young man with the slashed wrists rushed forward. Even though Paige held him back, he still reached for the Nymar and pleaded, “Let him go. He didn’t hurt me, I swear!”

  Pushing the man back, Paige bought herself enough time to drop her baton into the holster on her boot. She grabbed one of the man’s hands and inspected his bloody wrists. “He didn’t? Than what’s this?”

  “It’s a game we play, that’s all.”

  The cuts made across his veins and had been partially wrapped by shreds of thin material. Studying his eyes, she asked, “Are you on something?”

  “Just some weed and pills. They grow it here. In the basement. I only took it for our games. That’s all. We weren’t hurting anyone!”

  “He shot me!” Cole said.

  “Because you stormed in here!”

  “Cops!” one of the Skinners shouted from the living room.

  “Okay, Cole,” she said calmly. “Let him go. It’s all over.”

  Even though he wanted to rid himself of the Nymar currently attached to his spear, the weapon didn’t seem ready to let him go. Part of the reason might have been the large portion of Cole’s brain that wanted to take the Nymar’s gun hand for a souvenir.

  “It’s all over,” Paige repeated. Raising her voice to shout in the direction of the living room, she asked, “Are we through here?”

  “We’re through, we’re through!” someone squealed loud enough to fill the next room.

  “Cops are coming,” Abel calmly announced.

  Cole still couldn’t get the spear to open, so he did the next best thing and glared down at the Nymar as if trapping him there was his only purpose in life. “If the cops want to see something,” he shouted, “tell them to look in the basement and forget about our visit tonight!”

  “Sure! Look, sorry about the car. It’s just that we got a reputation to maintain. We’re the hook-up around here.”

  From the front room, Madman squealed and begged for leniency from the other Skinners surrounding him.

  Cole lowered himself to one knee so he was the only thing the Nymar could see. “Who said we’d come running?”

  “Wh-What?”

  “When you had the drop on me before, you said she knew we’d come running. Who’s ‘she’?”

  “I wanna see Finn.”

  “Paige, bring the other Nymar in here.”

  Now that things had died down, the man with the cut wrists had collected himself enough to formulate a plan. His main course of action was to wait for Cole to look away and then run straight at him. When that happened, Cole merely snapped his fist into the bloody man’s face to stop him cold.

  Paige left the room, only to reappear while dragging the other Nymar along by the back of his neck. After dumping him off, she stomped away to assist the others in the living room.

  “You all right, Finn?” the Nymar in boxers asked.

  Finn ran a tongue along his split bottom lip. “Yeah. Madman and the rest of these stupid shits started swingin’ when I told ‘em to stay put.”

  “Are there any more of you around?” Cole asked.

  “Not anymore,” Finn replied. “What the hell are you doing to him?”

  Thanks to a clearing head and a bit of luck, Cole was finally able to get his spear to loosen up. The forked ends split apart, but were snagged by the threadlike tendrils that had emerged from the Nymar’s wrist to stitch up the wound. He kept the spear close to his chest in a horizontal grip as he positioned himself so his back was to a wall. “Who put you two up to this?”

  “It’s too late to worry about that,” Finn said. “She’s already gone.”

  “Gone where? Who are you talking about?”

  “The one who told us about the old man in the house across the street.”

  “How long did you know about Lancroft?”

  “A year or so,” the Nymar replied. “Not like it did us any good. He knew about us too. Waved at us sometimes when he left to go wherever the hell he went.”

  Outside, the sirens were getting closer. From what he knew of the street, Cole figured the cops would be pulling to a stop in front of the house in less than a minute. Stabbing a finger toward the man with the cut wrists, he said, “You’re coming with us. We can get you fixed up.”

  “No! I’m staying here.”

  “If he wants to stay, let him,” Paige said with a resigned sigh from the doorway. “Unless Selina or any of the other locals have some good cop connections, we’ve already got enough to worry about.”

  “He’s on drugs,” Cole told her.

  Looking over to a bong shaped like half of a Viking’s helmet, she said, “I kind of guessed that.”

  “He said there were pills too. He could be messed up.”

  “Let me guess,” she said to Finn. “The usual float and flow?”

  “Yeah,” the Nymar replied.

  Cole looked around at the bong and several other colorful bits of paraphernalia lying around. If not for the scent of burnt cordite after the gunfire, he would have smelled the weed a lot sooner. But that didn’t answer the main question on his mind. “What the hell is a float and flow?”

  “It’s a way people like to get fed on,” Paige told him as she led him from the bedroom so she could get a good look at what was going on in the rest of the little house. “They get a little high, sometimes a lot high, and then pop a whole bunch of aspirin to thin their blood. The Nymar can feed slower since the blood doesn’t clot as quickly and they both get a buzz. Float and flow. Thing is, it’s not really what we would consider a terrible offense. Weird? Sure. Worth maiming someone over? Not so much.”

  In the living room, Skinners were letting themselves out through the front door as several of Madman’s buddies skulked back to their own respective corners. Between the TV and a few lamps whose shades had been knocked off, it was difficult to tell if the oddly angled light came from there or from cops closing in on them. The squawk of a radio outside put that little quandary to rest.

  “There’s no time to finish this up properly,” Paige said as she shut the door to the bedroom. “We’re going to walk out of here calmly without looking any more suspicious than we already do.”

  “Don’t you think these guys will say something about the way we busted in?”

  Opening the door again and looking into the bedroom, Paige said, “I don’t know. Do you think these pot-smoking vampires will say anything to make the cops stay here any longer than necessary?”

  “No,” Finn said through gritted teeth, “but I’d better make sure.” He shoved past the Skinners and into the living room. Thanks to the people clustered in the living room and on the porch, he made it all the way to the front door before he was noticed.

  “Stay where you are, sir!” one of the cops said from the street directly in front of the house.

  “I’m the owner of this place. We just had a fight after a big party,” Finn said while shooting a loaded glance over to Madman. Judging by the way the big dude in the Eagles jersey looked over at the Nymar, he wasn’t anxious to
step on Finn’s toes.

  Although nobody came forward to dispute the story, the cop was still wary. “Someone said they heard gunfire.”

  “It’s all right, Nate,” Selina said as she crossed the street from Lancroft’s side. “We were just having a party. Remember the one I told you about?”

  The cop wasn’t much older than Madman’s crowd. His clean-shaven face was cut from hard lines and marred by a few small scars, but it softened a bit when Selina came along. “I thought that party wasn’t supposed to be for a while and that it was going to be at the place across the street.”

  “It got changed,” she said with a shrug.

  “Great. Can we go?” Paige asked.

  The front door remained open and a breeze was blowing through the little structure thanks to some other open windows. When the stench of burnt cordite drifted outside, Cole swore he could smell pot as well. If the cop with Selina or the other one directly behind him had functional noses, they wouldn’t be able to miss those scents.

  “Things look all right here,” the cop said. “Everyone go on home and keep the noise down.”

  Chapter Six

  Paige walked calmly across the street, and it was all Cole could do to keep his voice down to a whisper when he said, “Those cops had to know there was more going on in there.”

  “I know. Keep walking.” When Cole took a quick glance over his shoulder, she snapped, “Don’t look. Just keep walking. Selina and Jory know some cops around here, but it looks like they’ve got a better arrangement than I thought.”

  It felt like miles before they were finally on the other side of the street. “I think they’re working with the Nymar,” he said in an overly deliberate whisper.

  Paige stopped just after stepping onto the curb in front of Lancroft’s house and went against the order she’d just given. “Who?” she asked while looking back at Madman’s house. “The cops or Jory’s crew?”

  “Maybe both. The Nymar doing the float and flow mentioned something about a woman telling him we’d be coming.”

  “You mean Selina?”

  “I don’t know,” Cole replied quickly. “He just said ‘she’ told them we’d come running and that she also told the Nymar about Lancroft being in that house. I tried to get more out of him but didn’t have time. Then that cop made it sound like he knew something was going to happen as well.”

  “Why would they expect us to go over there, unless …” Paige spun on her heels so she was once again facing the Lancroft house. “Unless we were being pulled away from the only thing in this neighborhood valuable enough to convene a Skinner summit meeting.”

  She strode into the house, pushed open the door and shoved past the Skinners waiting in the living room. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line and her eyes burned with an intensity Cole knew all too well. Rather than try to get in her way, he did his best to watch her back as she climbed down the stairs to the basement.

  “You think the locals were trying to draw us away from here?” Cole asked once they hit the small brick-walled room at the bottom of the stairs. A doorway led into the workshop where half a dozen Skinners from almost as many places were going through boxes of weapons collected or made by Lancroft himself.

  “There’s some good stuff in those files,” she said quietly. “And then there’s the basement below this one. The creatures in some of those cages downstairs may be more valuable than anything else. Even the dead things have their uses to Skinners who know their craft. Since the only thing that’s been preventing anyone from carting away too much for themselves is the agreement we made when we opened this place up, there’s plenty of reasons for someone to want some time alone in here.”

  “Plus,” Cole chuckled, “there’s the stuff we stashed before everyone started arriving.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a comfortable smile. “That too.” As easily as it had come when she looked at him, her smile disappeared when she looked back into the workroom. “I thought the right thing to do would be to take what we needed and let everyone else pick from the rest. Some of the others were bound to get snippy and squabble over some stuff, but I wasn’t interested in being the mommy around this house. Maybe I’m the dumb one for thinking this could go smoothly at all.”

  Cole held her face in his hands, slipping his fingers beneath the newly clipped slopes of hair framing her cheeks. “We’ve been here the whole time,” he told her. “There’s no way to catalogue this crap, and even if there were, these are the people we would have called to do the cataloguing, right?”

  “Yeah.” Suddenly, Paige’s face lit up and she pulled away from him so she could get another look into the next room. “Cataloguing! Did you ever print that sign-out sheet you were talking about?”

  “The one you said was a stupid idea because it was treating Skinner weaponry and artifacts like rental movies?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “Has anyone been using it?”

  “They’d better!”

  “Or there’ll be a late fee?” she chided while jogging through the workroom, stopping a few paces shy of the Skipping Temple. “Do you smell that?”

  Compared to the smells that had filled Madman’s place, the scent of freshly cut timber was a blessing. Cole nodded quickly.

  Taking a quick look at her watch, Paige cursed under her breath and ran into the room covered in wall-to-wall Dryad script. Although the ancient markings were as beautiful as they were mysterious, the nymph sitting in the corner poking out a text message on her phone was the only thing Paige wanted to see. “When did you get here, Jordan?”

  Dressed in a baggy shirt and cutoff sweat shorts, Jordan looked up from her phone and smiled. The hair she flipped over one ear was chestnut brown with amber highlights. By anyone’s standards, she was a knockout. Because she was a lower level Dryad more commonly known as a nymph, even the curves of her ear were sexy enough to hold a human’s attention once she fixed her eyes upon them. Cole had met her before, while rescuing Jordan from being worked to death by Jonah Lancroft, but he still had to brace himself to keep from being mesmerized by the sight of her perfection. When the nymph straightened her back and shifted to the edge of her seat, it became clear that she was gloriously unsupported beneath her shirt. He cleared his throat and tried to do the same for his mind.

  “My shift just started,” Jordan said. “Will you be needing us much longer? Every hour I’m away from the club means less money in my pocket.”

  “Shouldn’t be much longer,” Paige replied. “Did someone just come through here?”

  “Sure. It was off the usual schedule, but I just got here. My pipes are in good shape, so I bent the rules a little. Seemed like the ones who went through were in a hurry.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. The only Skinners I know by name are you and Cole. Hi, Cole. I see you squirming over there.”

  “Hi, Jordan.”

  Uninterested in the nymph’s attempts to make Cole even more uncomfortable, Paige said, “I need to know who came through.”

  “All I can tell you is where they went.”

  Paige’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward expectantly. “Where?”

  “Florida. They got here in a rush and needed to leave quickly. The only club that had enough juice stored up to transport them on short notice was in Miami. Always plenty of juice in Miami.”

  The Dryads used spiritual energy gleaned from the emotions or excitement within living things. Humans were the richest source of that energy, and the oldest, most reliable way to get a human excited was to appeal to their baser instincts. The nymphs had been doing the same act for years, tempting mankind through everything from belly dancing to songs sung in forest clearings on summer nights. More recently they’d been making a killing at strip bars scattered throughout the country. Money was the least of what they harvested from their customers, but no harm was done.

  Cole had already picked up the clipboard resting against the
wall and was scanning the front page. When he shook his head and put the board down, Paige shifted from one foot to another as if getting ready to bolt and just needed to be pointed in the right direction. “Did they take anything out of here?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Jordan said. “Everyone’s taking stuff out of here. Isn’t that the point of all this?”

  “Can you send me to where they went?”

  Smirking while blowing a few strands of auburn hair away from a mouth that glistened with the color of ripe raspberries, she replied, “You know I can.”

  “Then do it. Cole, stay here and see if you can find out what was taken.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  When Jordan stood up and started to hum, the melody of her voice carried throughout the entire room. It rustled beneath Cole’s skin like a passing ghost that brushed its fingers along his spine as it went looking for another attic to haunt. In a matter of seconds the symbols on the walls thrummed with latent power.

  “I want to go with you, Paige,” Cole insisted. “We can figure out the rest later.”

  She placed a hand on him, and this time there was nothing close to a smack tagged onto the gesture. “If the locals or any other Skinners are involved in something dirty, they’ll be quick to cover it up.”

  “Then stay here so we can both do a search. After that, we can—”

  “No. The search needs to be done now. If someone told those Nymar across the street to rile up the neighbors to draw us away from here, then it was probably to clear a path for whoever came and went in between the scheduled songs or jumps or whatever the hell we’re supposed to call this stripper subway.”

  “Good one. I think I just decided what I’m calling it from now on.”

  Jordan poked the keys on her phone and stuck it into one of the microscopic pockets in her sweat shorts. “They’re ready for you on the other side.”

  All Paige had to do was tilt her face upward to get Cole to come closer to her. The crooked line of her nose cast a funny shadow on her face when the glow from the wall hit her. Despite the recent escalation in their partnership, he still hadn’t noticed all the little scars she’d collected throughout her tenure as a Skinner. And even though her hair had been cut within the last week, it was already getting unruly around the edges.