by Jonah Hewitt
Wallach lay panting on the floor. He glanced at Miles and shot him a look of venom. Miles felt a stinging pain between his eyes, but he somehow pushed it back and Wallach winced and looked away.
“How about now, Wallach,” Hokharty spoke, “Are you convinced of my identity yet?”
Schuyler was shaking his head in admiration. He leaned over to Miles and spoke in a delighted hoarse whisper, “He was toying with him the whole time!”
“Yeah, but why bother? Why go to all the trouble?” Miles asked genuinely curious.
“Effect, buddy! Effect!! Had he just dispensed with him, the other vampires would have just thought it was a one-off, a fluke, but by doing it this way, they got to see Hokharty beat Wallach at his worst. It’s genius!”
Miles sighed. Schuyler may have gotten this nuance quicker than he did, but then Miles didn’t nearly jump in on the wrong side either.
Wallach’s eyes were darting around the room in a panic. The remaining vampires, about half had already fled, were slowly gathering over to Miles and Schuyler’s side of the room. They had made their decision. Only Ulami and Forzgrim remained on his side. Wallach shot a glance their way with a desperate look that said, “HELP ME!!”
Hokharty raised a hand and began to say, “Don’t,” but it didn’t matter. Bitterly loyal to the last, they obeyed and lunged at Hokharty instantly, however, when they got there Hokharty was gone. He was replaced by a swarm of golden insects. The cloud of insects gathered densely around them, lifting them into the air as they thrashed and swatted at them impotently. In the dark, glittering cloud, Miles lost sight of them, then as the cloud dissipated, large chunks of the two vampires fell to the floor.
“OH, MY GOSH!!” Tim made a sound from behind Graber like he was trying to keep from retching and even several of the vampires cringed. The cloud of insects gathered into Hokharty’s familiar shape in the middle of the room. He looked calm and somewhat despondent as if he was saddened it had come to this.
Wallach blinked in disbelief, and then he looked frantically for an exit. He was hardly up to his feet when Hokharty spoke, “Enough of this.” He turned to Graber and said a word Miles didn’t recognize.
“Angriffein.”
Graber moved surprisingly quickly across the hall. Wallach rushed forward to the dais, rummaged around in the rubble and pulled out a saber. Just as Graber was reaching for him, he swung and caught Graber across the face just above the nose.
The top of Graber’s head was rolling around on the ground like a dropped bowl full of lumpy gray oatmeal with a couple of large, white hardboiled eggs thrown in. Those were Graber’s eyes. Graber acted like it was a mere annoyance and scratched the exposed brains and flat stump of his partially decapitated head like a man absent-mindedly scratching his scalp. Tim began throwing up for real now, and the five white kitten girls gathered around Schuyler’s middle and clutched onto him like frightened children. Miles gaped himself. He had seen a lot of vampires recover from some pretty horrific wounds, but never, EVER had he seen a vampire that could get by without the top of his head.
Wallach dropped the sword in horror as Graber’s massive hand closed on his face like a vice, stifling the scream that never made it out Wallach’s throat. He held him up by his head, his feet dangling, arms flailing powerlessly. He turned his eyeless face to Hokharty for the command.
“You came to this land to die Wallach. Now I am going to grant your wish.” Hokharty made a slight flitting move with his eyes and Graber turned.
Despite now being blind, Graber somehow dragged Wallach across the dais to the boarded-up double doors on the opposite side of the hall. With a single kick he broke the doors open letting in the morning light. The vampires cringed and huddled together on the opposite side as far as they could. The sun was up. It was already past dawn. A single patch of growing golden light was cast under the trees on the lawn. Graber walked out of the doors dragging the writhing body of Wallach the whole way directly to the patch of light. When he got there, he didn’t hesitate at all, but walked straight into it. Wallach kicked furiously as his body began to fester and burn. Thick smoke began to rise from his hissing body. Graber wasn’t affected in the slightest but stood inertly like a large bull sunning himself in a pasture. It was the first time Miles realized Graber was no vampire, but something far scarier. The whole assembly watched for the better part of twenty minutes as Wallach flailed in agony, held silently in Graber’s immovable grip. Finally, after several more tortuous minutes, the twisting, smoldering body of Wallach began to stop wriggling and burst into bright orange flames. Graber dropped the body and turned his back on it like it was pile of burning trash. It moved only a little after that and soon stopped moving altogether. And that was the end of Wallach.
As he watched the burning corpse of the most frightening vampire he had ever known, his endless tormentor, Miles felt his chest enlarge and something like a breeze flowed over him. It was like taking a long, deep breath after having been under water for a very long time. Things were different now.
Graber came back inside and brushed Wallach’s ashes off his hands like a workman brushing off the sawdust from a day’s honest work. Hokharty had walked up to the open doors to watch the spectacle but didn’t venture outside. Still, he obviously had a much higher tolerance for sunlight than your average vampire. He was rolling the fingers of his one hand near his face in his typical thoughtful gesture. As Graber returned he said to him simply, “Fetch her.” Graber walked purposely through the hall to the other double doors and the small crowd of vampires parted around him. He put his hand on Tim’s shoulder and started dragging him after him.
“Great! Where are we going now?” Tim whined. As they turned and left, Tim wiped some vomit from the corner of his mouth and said, “How on earth are we going to cover up your head after THAT!” gesturing to Graber’s truncated head. “It’s not like you can go around wearing a motorcycle helmet the whole time!” The two left but didn’t close the doors behind them.
Hokharty shut the doors to the garden and the whole room breathed a sigh of relief to be spared from the sunlight and the view of Wallach’s ashes. Hokharty went first to the girl that had provided Wallach with his last meal and brushed the rubble off her. Then he carefully closed her eyes, laid her out flat and crossed her arms across her chest. He found Wallach’s cavalry coat and covered her face and top with it. She was dead. It was oddly tender. Wallach never treated the bodies of his victims with such deference. No vampire did. Hokharty walked around the room and found one of the least damaged chaise lounges, dusted it off, brought it back and centered it on the dais carefully. Miles half expected him to sit on it like a king on his new throne, but he didn’t. He just left it and walked casually to the middle of the room.
“We have much work to do – all of us. First, some rules.” The entire vampire company snapped to attention. The room went dead silent.
“I would be greatly displeased if any harm were come to the mortal, Tim.”
There was nodded consent all around. “That should encourage Tim,” thought Miles. He would make sure to tell him when he got back.
“No one is to attack, harm or kill any mortal without my express permission.”
No objections to that either.
“Finally, these two,” and he pointed to Miles and Schuyler, “are my personal lieutenants. You are to obey their word as you would my own.”
“WHAT?” thought Miles, “Was he serious?”
The five white kitten girls who were already sheltering around Schuyler’s feet began mewling, purring and nuzzling Schuyler like beloved pets. Schuyler was enjoying it a bit too much.
“Oh, sure,” thought Miles, “NOW they like him. Bloody Suck-ups. Phonies.” But he couldn’t help but notice that no one was nuzzling up against him and felt a little hurt.
“Miles, Schuyler…a word.” Hokharty gestured for both to follow him and then turned to walk back to the dais.
“What?” Schuyler shook himself from his daydrea
ming and idiotic grinning. “Oh, yes…of course…Master,” he added with a note of extra reverence for good measure and then to his newfound groupies, “Sorry ladies, duty calls.” Schuyler pulled himself from the girls with some difficulty while they clung to him and whimpered like jealous girlfriends.
Once he extracted himself from their talons he joined Miles in the middle of the hall.
“What?!” he said to Miles’ judgmental sideward glance, apparently totally sincerely. Miles just rolled his eyes and followed Hokharty.
Miles and Schuyler approached Hokharty cautiously. Miles didn’t know what the protocols were now. Wallach had always required the most obsequious gestures of loyalty, but that wasn’t Hokharty’s style. Should they kneel or bow? Before either could decide on what to do, Hokharty simply gestured them over to the steps of the dais.
“I have work to do in the city, and you two cannot yet travel in daylight.”
“Yet?!” thought Miles. Was that even an option?! Miles exchanged hopeful looks with Schuyler.
“I will take Tim. You will remain here with Graber and train the others. I will return for you this evening. I have an important task for you to perform when I get back.”
“Train?!” said Schuyler incredulously, “To do what?” then added “Master” when he realized he might have sounded a bit curt.
“To fight, Schuyler.” Both Miles and Schuyler raised their eyebrows at this and looked at each other, but said nothing. Even with the battlefield promotion, they weren’t exactly first bench. Miles just trusted that Hokharty knew what he was doing.
Hokharty leaned in close to Schuyler and spoke softly, “I trust we know whose side we are on now?”
Schuyler looked definitely terrified, but he bowed convincingly and said only, “Yes, Master,” without much theatrics. A subtle nod from Hokharty told him he was released for the moment. Schulyer quickly turned back to his new fan club.
“Where were we, ladies?!” As he made his way over to them they giggled and cheered as if they were Japanese schoolgirls, and he was their rock star boyfriend who had been away for ages. Miles shook his head. As he turned back, Hokharty had already turned his attention to cleaning the chaise lounge he had just set up.
Miles thought how odd it was to have a new master and how different he was from Wallach. He certainly hadn’t expected this turn of events. “Master,” the word wasn’t filled with contempt and dread for him anymore, but he was still afraid of this new master all the same. The thought reminded him of something Tim had said out in the garden.
“Master Hokharty?” Miles approached him carefully.
“Yes, Miles?” Hokharty didn’t turn but kept on his task of preparing the lounge for something.
“Tim said…well, out in the garden, he said that ya were just a corpse in a morgue a few hours ago. Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.” He went on silently preparing the lounge, flicking off pieces of debris.
Miles swallowed. “He also said that a strange man brought you to life?”
“Yes,” Hokharty replied, “That is also true.”
Miles pressed on. “It’s just…it’s just that line ya used with us in the alley, and again with Ulami, and again with Wallach. Every master has a master…”
“Until there is at last a master who is master of all,” Hokharty finished. He stood up, faced Miles and dusted off his hands. “You are wondering if I too have a master.”
Miles nodded weakly.
“That’s very perceptive of you, Miles. I’ve come to expect no less of you. Yes, I have a master, two in fact…”
As Hokharty said this, the thudding steps of Graber entered the room. Tim was right behind him. Miles turned. Whatever Miles had expected Graber to be carrying, it wasn’t this. Graber was carrying the body of a woman with brown hair, wearing flats, blue jeans, and a red flannel shirt over a pink t-shirt. She had a kind but strong face. When Miles looked at Graber, Graber smiled, and Hokharty smiled back.
“And I expect that you will meet them very soon.”
Chapter Sixteen
Yo-yo
Lucy sat on the edge of the counter of the hospital information booth idly kicking her dangling legs and trying to not feel like a little kid. It wasn’t easy. The purple and pink princess kitten pajamas she was wearing weren’t helping. After last night’s outburst, the whole hospital staff had heard about her plight and they had sort of adopted her. The next morning there were balloons and flowers, and the doctor from the previous evening had even snuck in a couple candy bars. Balloons, flowers and candy were good, and the people were very nice, but a smile from someone she knew would have been worth a thousand flowers or balloons or cards signed “The Staff and Administration of Pinnacle Health.” Trouble was, she didn’t know anyone but her mother and she was now gone forever. She couldn’t even mourn her because the body was stolen. They had had some close friends back in Texas, but that was nearly a year and a half ago. She kept imagining that someone from back there would show up and take her back with them, but she had a hard time believing it would actually happen.
The pretty, dark-haired doctor that had held and rocked her back to sleep last night came by to check on her mid-morning. She reminded Lucy of her mother. She was nice, only she obviously didn’t have any children of her own. Her mom always talked to her like a person; the doctor talked to her like she was five. She had brought Lucy the pajamas and a white bathrobe. The pajamas were bright pink and purple and covered with cartoon princess kittens with enormous eyes complete with wimples and crowns. It was weird. She had never liked things like that as a kid, but the doctor was trying to make her feel better, so she had just said, “Thank you,” and had taken them without a fuss. She hadn’t even known they made things like that for girls her age, but they fit well, they were comfortable and they were better and warmer than the thin hospital gowns that were open in the back. She put them on and wrapped the white bathrobe tightly around her so no one could see the freaky, big-eyed princess kitties.
The social worker had also come by that morning. She was a nice, middle-aged, plump lady with big hair and a heavy New Jersey accent in a large, floral-print dress. She was friendly and loud. Lucy didn’t say much. There wasn’t anything to say. Her dad was dead, grandma had died six years ago, and there were no close friends nearby and no other family at all. The social worker did ask her about an uncle, but Lucy didn’t have any uncles. It was strange. Lucy asked what was going to happen to her, or what happened to her mother’s body, but the social worker didn’t have any answers for her yet. She promised she would soon.
Since she was healthy enough they had disconnected her from the monitors and IV. The social worker recommended that it would be good for Lucy if she could get out of the room for a change and the doctor agreed, but she always had someone to babysit her. The current babysitter was a young, male orderly. The orderly was supposed to walk her down to the cafeteria for lunch, but right now he was chatting it up with the pretty receptionist, so she had to wait until he was finished.
He didn’t look like he was going to stop any time soon, so she hopped down from the information desk and walked idly across the lobby. She had always chafed under her mother’s restraints and rules but now this being constantly watched and tended and mollified was far worse. What she wouldn’t give to be in her own room under one of her mother’s time-outs. She walked over to the nearest window, a wall of plate glass stretching from floor to ceiling, the kind that all institutional lobbies seemed to have. She couldn’t see much of the swath of green along the riverfront because her own reflection was in the way. She took a moment to examine herself. She could see the horrid, pink and purple kitties and their big, googly eyes staring back at her, so she pulled the white bathrobe tighter around her. Once the gigantic eyeballs of the pink kittens weren’t staring back at her, she had time to look at her own face for the first time since the accident without distraction.
There was a butterfly bandage over her left eyebrow, but other t
han that, there were no obvious marks left by the accident. She touched it briefly, but then flinched when her finger barely grazed it. It still stung. She was sore and tired, but otherwise, she was fine. She was amazed that somehow she had managed to go through the wreck, be thrown from the car and still survive. How had she survived when her mother hadn’t? It didn’t make any sense. They had both been wearing their seat belts – mom always insisted – but somehow during the crash they had both been thrown from the car.
Then she thought of her mother’s body. Somewhere her mother’s broken body lay lifeless and no one knew where. Her body had been stolen, stolen by some common thief for spare parts. The thought nearly started her crying again, but then she bit her lip and found her resolve. Anger began to slowly replace sadness in Lucy’s heart. It just killed her that somewhere in some ugly back room, somebody, some monster, could be cutting her mom up to sell. She closed her eyes tightly and squeezed a few hot tears from her eyes. As she gripped her hands into tightly balled fists, she made an oath to herself that somehow, someway, she would find her mother’s body and she would avenge herself on the people that had taken her mother from her.
Suddenly, with her eyes closed and burning from salty tears, she saw a flash of a vision. She was somewhere dark, rumbling, like the trunk of a car, and then she was lifted out by someone large, gigantic even. It was dawn. He was carrying her towards a house. It was surrounded by a high stone wall, somewhere with overgrown trees, and in the center, a big brick house with a large porch and fancy columns. Then, the face from the water stain suddenly appeared before her.
Lucy’s eyes snapped open. She was breathing hard. She had been seeing a lot of strange things lately, even with her eyes open, but this was different. She was certain that the water-stain face, the woman with long, black hair and grey eyes, had just been her imagination, but the boy…the boy she had seen through the window last night…now she wasn’t so sure. She knew he was the same boy she had seen in the headlights, the boy with the yo-yo, the one who had caused the whole accident in the first place, but whether either of them were real, she just didn’t know anymore.
