by S. L. Eaves
The lid is closed – because why would I catch a break now – and I’m too disoriented and tattered to react so I bounce off the lid like a rubber ball and hit the concrete with an audible smack.
Now that my friends is not how I recommend escaping a werewolf.
It takes a few solid minutes for my body to heal the best it can. There are more broken bones than intact ones. Plus I need time to get my bearings. The pain is disorienting. It’s very difficult to function, so I lie patiently waiting for my body to recover. I’m hoping there’s enough blood in me to heal to the point of me being able to walk.
There’s a banging sound followed by hurried footsteps.
“Holy shit!” utters an uncomfortably close voice.
I peal open my eyes and crane my neck to see a shaky figure in a grease-stained shirt clambering towards me. The trash bag in his right hand drops as his left hand raises a phone to his ear.
He sees that my eyes are open and gestures for me to stay down.
“Stay still, I’m calling for help.” His tone is urgent and face panicked as he leans over me.
I react the only way I can. His scream goes mute as my teeth slice through his vocal chords. I have no desire to prolong his suffering so I make it as quick as I’m able. And I don’t let a single drop of blood go to waste.
The blood snaps me back to full consciousness like an adrenalin shot to the heart. I immediately release him and check for a pulse. No longer blinded by the hunger, I’m huddled over him checking desperately for signs of life.
It happened so fast. It’s not the first time I’ve taken human life to save my own and it makes me just as deplorable as the vampires I’ve killed for doing the same. While we are separated by motive, I am just as much as slave to the demon as the rest of my kind. And moments like this one remind me of that grim fact.
His blood has resuscitated me enough to regain use of my limbs and I stand slowly, using the dumpster for support. I’m so sorry. As if that matters; the demon always wins.
Looking around the deserted alley, I relieve him of his phone and cigarettes before lifting the lid to the dumpster and hoisting him in. I toss the trash bag in after him. I’m so disgusted with myself, I feel as if I’ll be sick to my stomach.
Bracing my hands against the dumpster, my insides are burning; a mixture of aftershock from the fall and high from the kill. Not every fractured bone is healed yet and the stinging lingers. I need to get somewhere safe. Clear my head, make a plan. And fast.
My fingers fumble with his phone, 9-1-1 still shows on the display. I power it off, wipe it clean and toss it in the dumpster. As much as I could use a phone line right now, carrying a dead man's phone is never a good idea.
As I turn toward the street, a figure steps into the alley.
“Damn that was fast. I mean seriously fast.”
“Once I got to the street, I only had about a three block radius to cover. Plus, I heard the landing.”
He enters the alley, taking long confident strides towards me.
“Well I’m impressed. I thought that move bought me more time.”
I shake out a cigarette and dig the little plastic Bic from inside the pack. If I’m about to get ripped a part in an alley by a werewolf, I’m having one last smoke.
Striden scoffs, “I’m not often surprised or impressed, but I did not see that coming. Hiding weapons around the apartment, sure, that’s a given. I should have spent time removing them rather than drinking your vodka, but I wanted to be ready when you arrived. Not digging through your underwear drawer.” He smiles. “Rigging an escape hatch, that was elaborate. And the self-destruct warning was a nice touch.”
“Well when enough people have tried to kill you, you start planning ahead.”
“True. Though if it were me, the apartment would be all smoke and debris right now.”
He’s standing over me glowering down. My back’s against the dumpster and I feel myself shrinking under his gaze.
“I don't bluff.”
In an effort to look more confident than I feel, I extend him the pack as a peace offering. He responds by grabbing me roughly by the throat.
The unlit cigarette falls from my lips as I clutch his arm and try to squirm free. The door behind him opens. That familiar clank of metal followed by the murmur of the bar crowd inside reminds us we’re in public now. Striden's posture goes rigid, his hand slackens around my neck.
“Sorry, I was looking for my barback,” a voice says from behind Striden's big frame. “You two seen anyone else out here?”
“No,” Striden snaps, his eyes remain locked on mine.
“Hmm alright. And ya might wanna consider getting a room,” he cracks sarcastically as the door slams behind him.
“We’re too exposed here.” Striden steps back. He looks slightly nervous, if that's possible. So maybe he is worried about being seen. “Temporary ceasefire?” I offer.
He grunts, but nods reluctantly.
I take out another cigarette. He lets me light it this time.
“What do you want Striden? I find it hard to believe you risked coming to the states just for me. And we’re standing within a mile or so from where you were pronounced dead. That seems like a big risk especially for a calculating guy like you.”
“Aww your concern is touching. I have my reasons for being back and you, my fangy friend, are just the tip of the iceberg. Speaking of…how’d Marcus die?”
The question catches me off-guard.
“Crina,” I say after a moment.
He raises his eyebrows.
“No shit. I didn’t see that coming.”
“I don’t think he did either.”
“How did she find out?”
“Find out…?” I am going to make him fill in the blanks.
“That’s why she killed him, right? She found out his was behind Dominque’s death. The fire?”
I nod.
“So how’d she find out he orchestrated it?”
Smoke leaves my nostrils as I weigh how forthcoming I should be. While I'm not in a sharing mood, I figure talking is preferable to the alternative.
“He told her. They were on a mission in Alaska and things went south. Death bed confession type of thing.” Deliberately omitting my involvement.
With that he gives a dry laugh. “Trion. Yeah I heard a bit about that. Brixton was a bitch to deal with, but she did have a way of making the impossible possible.”
Of course they knew each other.
“Do all you sociopaths know each other? Do you all attend the same meetings?”
Striden’s insidious grin is unnerving.
“You never thought it strange Brixton knew about you? All about you?”
I frown, something isn't adding up. “She had an inside man—”
Striden is shaking his head. “And you figured they fed her all that nonsense about your premonitions, the abilities passing supernaturally, all that? That would make for one hell of a government file, wouldn't you think?”
If the color could drain from my face it would right now. She did know about my visions. She had a weird obsession with transferring them. She believed whole-heartedly that if I turned her she'd inherit my abilities. I never really knew where she got that notion. There's lots of superstitions about my kind. I assumed it was her own theory or that Owen told her...but where would he have gotten that info from? His source wasn't a government agent. It was of the canine variety ...feeding her lies so she wouldn't go after just any vampire, she'd seek me out. Striden wanted to ensure she put me through hell in that compound. To some extent he succeeded.
And now he stands in front of me laughing triumphantly.
The fangs come out. He waves a finger.
“Now who's one with the temper? If you're ready for round two, as ill-advised as it may be here, I'll be happy to oblige.”
I made it out of the compound. Brixton didn't. And Striden is just a ghost of his former self with only buttons left to push.
“If
Marcus was still among us, he'd owe you big for that play,” forcing myself to calm down.
“That so? Bad blood between you two?”
“Let's just say I blamed him as much for Catch's death as I blamed your brother.” And myself.
Something occurs to me, “Wait, did Marcus know you survived?”
He shakes his head.
A couple turns into the alley, they’re too busy making out to notice us, but it brings our little reunion to a halt. Plus there is a body in the dumpster my back's pressed against. Never a good idea to hang around the scene of the crime.
“I’ve got places to be Lori. That little stunt bought you tonight, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing one another again soon, real soon.”
I watch as he turns and walks briskly towards the street. The tension leaves my body. It’s quickly replaced with exhaustion.
Chapter 13
Hailey answers on the first knock. I stand on her stoop looking like I just lost a fight with a blender.
“Hey, got ten bucks? I'll pay you back.” I nod towards the cab idling behind me.
She disappears inside and then returns with the cash. “Sure, here.”
After the cab departs, she waves me inside. “Come in.”
“Umm. You shouldn't. I mean. We can talk out here.”
She smiles, “I'm aware I just gave a vampire permission to enter. I figure after the other night I can trust you.”
I follow her into the townhouse. It's an older building, but nicely appointed with modern furniture and bright colors. The television in her living room has the local news on mute. There's children's toys scattered around. It takes me a minute to put it together.
She emerges from the kitchen holding a beer.
“You want one? You look like you could use it.”
I shake my head. “It would be wasted on me. You have a kid?”
“Yeah, Arianne, she's going to be six next month.”
“You never mentioned her.” I put it together. “Right, why would you? Given the circumstances, you were protecting her. Was your husband her father?”
She nods. “She's why I fight. Making the world safer for her is even more important to me than vengeance.”
“Mom?” As if on cue, a figure appears at the bottom of the stairs.
Hailey crosses the living room towards her.
“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.” I smile, trying to sound comforting in spite of all the blood on my tattered clothes.
“Who are you?” she asks through blinking, sleep-filled eyes while clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest.
“She a friend. She's helping me with work,” Hailey says, as she scoops her into her arms. “Let's get you back to bed.”
She turns to me. “Give me a minute. My mom usually watches her, but she's picking up an extra shift at work tonight.”
A moment later Hailey reappears holding a stack of clean clothes.
“Here, my turn to offer you bloodless clothing. Dare I ask what the hell happened to you?”
“Let's just say I'm having a rough night.” Taking the clothes, “Thanks for these. I'll try my best to keep them free of blood.”
“Just returning the favor. Bathroom's around the corner. You can clean up in there.”
Once freshened up, I rejoin her in the living room. She gestures at the television.
“Local news hasn't mentioned the nightclub incident since this morning. How they've failed to link it to the bodies in Nevada is beyond me. It's as if they're intentionally not reporting it.”
“Maybe they're worried about causing mass panic. People can be a reactionary bunch.”
“True.”
There's a soft knock on the back door. I freeze. Striden?
“I invited my friend, the one from the lab, to help out.”
“The wolf?”
She nods, crossing the kitchen to the back door and greets him with a hug. As he steps inside he stiffens when he sees me.
“So she did come,” he says to Hailey. He then nods at me.
“Told you she would.” Hailey gets a beer from the fridge and hands it to him without asking.
“Lori meet Zach, Zach this is Lori.”
He opens the beer and takes a swig, his eyes never leaving mine. He's tall, medium build with piercing blue eyes and a young baby face he's trying to hide under a thin, light brown beard.
I force a smile. “Hailey told me what happened with you at S&D. I'm sorry. That must've been hell.”
He lowers the beer.
“Yeah, it was.” Turning to Hailey, “I picked up his scent. A club downtown, a few blocks down from the one he hit last night. We move quickly we can get him.”
“Great, nice work.” Hailey smiles as she sets a case down on the kitchen table and unlocks it. She starts to remove gear. A bow with a bag of arrows, a few stakes in various sizes, a large cross and a rifle scope. I pick up the scope and examine it.
“Night vision, professional grade. Not bad.”
“You can buy them on Amazon these days.”
Zach picks up a stake and slides it down the small of his back. He picks up the cross and looks at me. I'm aware they are both wearing small ones around their necks. It's smart. It's a deterrent...as much as a cigarette burn would be to a human.
“You shouldn't have invited her in – that's a thing right?” He looks from her to me, adding, “No offense.”
I nod, putting my hands up, “Hey I said as much. Happy to meet in a public setting.”
“Nonsense, Zach I told you we can trust her. We've got more enemies than allies right now, we can use all the help we can get. She's not part of the problem.”
“I'll be the judge of that.” His eyes harden.
He's not wrong, I am part of the problem. Can he tell I recently fed?
“And you'll have an opportunity to because my mom couldn't take Ari tonight, so I need you two to go after the vampire.”
We regard one another with matching skeptical expressions.
“I'm game, wanna take me to that club?” I feign enthusiasm because I need them on my side for what is rapidly becoming a serious threat. Besides, I’m too weak and tired to argue at this point. What I really want right now is a hot bath and a bottle of vodka. And to get the hell away from anyone who howls at the moon.
For a moment it seems like he’s going to protest, but all that comes out is a grunt.
“Go, hurry,” she encourages, “It's getting late, he could already be feeding.”
“Yeah, okay. Come on vamp, let's see how you do against one of your own.”
I nod thanks to Hailey, pick up a stake and follow him out.
He walks briskly down the street. It’s difficult for me to keep up given the state I’m in, but I manage to keep up and when we've gone a couple blocks I finally break the awkward silence.
“Is this place within walking distance?”
I'm feeling a bit exposed after the earlier attack and am constantly fighting the urge to glance over my shoulder.
He responds by grabbing my arm and spinning me to face him. I meet his eyes, the innocent baby blues make it hard for him to look menacing, but certainly not for lack of trying.
“Tell me why you smell like lycan and fresh blood?”
I yank my arm free.
“I was attacked by one earlier. As you well know, vampires aren't the only beings going bump in the night around here. And humans aren't the only ones being hunted. Things got messy.”
I'm hoping he doesn't press me about the blood.
“Did you kill the wolf?”
Shaking my head, “No, but if he shows himself again I will.”
“Alright,” he starts walking again, apparently satisfied by my explanation.
I look up and realize for the first time it's a full moon. Striden's timing wasn't a coincidence. I really should set calendar alerts or something.
He stops. “Have you ever killed one?”
I don't hesitate. “Yes. More than one.”
> The car next to us beeps as Zach unlocks it and opens the driver side door.
“So we're not walking after all.” I slide into shotgun.
The car ride is mercifully short. He hadn't been one for conversation and as much as I want to ask him about his experience as an S&D lab rat, I can tell prying isn't going to get me anywhere. Once parked, I follow him through a lively section of downtown.
“You ever kill a vampire before?” I ask.
“No,” he says, as he bypasses the line of people waiting to enter.
“Umm...I didn't realize this place was exclusive...I'm not really dressed for the part.”
He laughs. “I'm pretty sure you could be wearing a trash bag and they'd let you in. But either way, I bribed the bouncer here earlier, getting in will be the least of our problems tonight.”
“Have you seen him? This vampire? You know what he looks like?”
He shakes his head. “I'm going to be straight with you. This isn't my scene, at all. Hailey told me what she was doing and I stepped up to help her out because she's the type that – when her mind is made up – there's no changing it. And I don't want her getting herself killed. But this is her mission, her drive. Me, I'd rather be home watching Sports Center right now. I've got zero interest in delving into this world.”
“Well look at that, we have something in common.”
It's a whole different world inside the club. Skimpy clothes, neon paint, glow sticks, drugs, booze, more drugs, more booze. There's a DJ spinning pop remixes on stage and a wave of people below moving in uneven cadences to the beat. When we finally reach the bar, I turn to Zach.
He's sniffing the air.
“Anything?”
“Yeah, stronger than earlier. It might be my proximity to you throwing it off, but I'm pretty sure the vampire's still here.”
I continue to scan the crowd. Nothing.
He orders a couple gin and tonics and hands me one. “Here. Helps us blend.”
Blending is not what I'm worried about. No one in this crowd is sober enough to notice us. At worst we look like undercover cops. At best we look, well, human. For a moment we stand at the bar sipping our drinks, listening to the music and we could pass for couple out on the town for the night.
