Into the Fire

by Patrick Hester

  I couldn’t make much out with all the rain, but as we got closer, I could see there were about a half dozen people clustered about the gate and a limo parked just beyond. All were dressed in dark colors, reminding me of mobsters in movies: long coats could conceal shotguns; dark glasses hiding their eyes, that sort of thing. The tallest of them stood maybe half a head taller than Mayfair, with thin, dark hair gone white at the temples. He wore it slicked back gangsta style. He had a long face, a wide nose, and bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows.

  Halfway down the walk, the temperature dropped the closer we got to the gate. I found myself wishing the trench coat were a little heavier winter version. Jack Mayfair stopped walking maybe five feet from the open gate, placing the creepy skull stick before him, both hands covering the knob.

  The tall man spoke; I blinked, not catching a word of it. Russian?

  “I’m doing well, Vladymir Yurevich. What’s gotten you out in the rain this evening?” Mayfair replied in English.

  Vladymir, the tall one, didn’t seem too pleased with Mayfair at that moment, but he covered his annoyance quickly enough.

  “Ah. Straight to business, my friend, as always.”

  I expected a Russian accent when Vladymir spoke English, so it surprised me he spoke without any trace of one. To hear him speak, he could’ve been from my neighborhood. I glanced around, taking in each of his companions. Closest to him stood a woman a little taller than me. Her coat ended at the knees, and I could see suit pants and a pair of black boots with a dangerously tall heel that meant she really wasn’t any taller than me after all. I resisted the urge to stretch up on my tiptoes. I liked her boots, though, and idly wondered where she got them. Probably wouldn’t be good to ask. She had blonde hair pulled tight into a bun and held with a pair of jet-black hair needles.

  Number Two was a big guy who could’ve been a linebacker for the Broncos. He had his dark hair cut short, almost military, and stood with hands clasped in front of him while he continuously scanned the area like he wasn’t waiting for trouble; he expected it. I wouldn’t want to be trouble. Trouble would get its ass kicked if it came around that guy. Number Three, nearly Number Two’s twin, only black with a Wesley Snipes style short beard neatly trimmed and framing his mouth. Numbers Four and Five looked young, almost too young, but sometimes it’s hard to tell anymore the way parents sex up their daughters with clothes. Four probably had a skirt on under her coat. Asian, her long, dark hair had pink streaks and flowed down her back. Her lips were red as rubies with giant disco shoes to match and long, painted fingernails on each hand matching the pink in her hair. Five really should’ve been with the pep squad, working on routines for the big game. She had curly blonde hair and bubblegum-pink lips and a waist that made me regret every cheeseburger I’d ever eaten in my life.

  Bitch.

  I had to keep from grinning as I noticed her cheap-ass tennis shoes.

  The linebackers stood on either end of the limo, boxing the rest in and shielding them from anything that might come from around either side. The two young girls leaned up against the car like a pair of cats lounging in a sunbeam, but they weren’t as lazy or unaware as they appeared. I could see the way their heads moved, eyes scanning the area around them; they were wary and watching for an attack just like the linebackers were. All four of them had the body language that said something would go down any minute. They were wound tight like coils and just waiting to pounce. None of them seemed to notice the fact that they were being soaked by the cold rain. The only thing that didn’t bother them at all seemed to be the rain.

  Weird.

  Mayfair’s words echoed in my head. These were Vampires. First Ghosts, then Werewolves, and now Vampires? I gripped the handle of the umbrella a little tighter and tried not to think about it. That’s when the blonde next to Vladymir locked her eyes on me. Her body language shifted from casual to tense in a heartbeat. It all made me think of a scene out of The Sopranos. Or Blade. Yeah, Blade’s better, given who these guys were and how Number Three reminded me of Snipes. Blade would cut these guys up with his sword. I wished I had a sword. A sword had to be a handy thing in these kinds of situations.

  I contented myself with the knowledge that a 9 mm rested in a holster on my belt.

  “I would never dream of wasting your time, Vladymir Yurevich,” Mayfair said with a slight nod of his head.

  “No, I suppose you would not. I wish to speak on the matter that took place last night. Terrible business.”

  “Ah,” Mayfair said, never taking his eyes off the tall man. “I wondered if that would be bothering you.”

  “It is no small thing, Jack. Many ask questions about this incident.”

  “I can assure you, Vladymir Yurevich, everything is under control.”

  “Under control?” he replied softly. “Is it? I have a pile of ash where an apartment building used to stand that would seem to indicate otherwise.”

  Mayfair spread his hands as if to say, terribly sorry about that. “Even under the best of circumstances, Vladymir Yurevich, tragedies happen and cannot be avoided. You can rest assured the Council is on top of it.”

  Vladymir snorted. “Your little Council knows nothing, of this I am certain. I will have justice for my fallen comrade and restitution for the loss of my property.”

  “It seems to me justice has been done. A police officer mutilated and most likely will die.”

  I wanted to flinch but remembered Mayfair’s admonition to show no emotion. Which would’ve been easier if he hadn’t gone there. But he did, so I concentrated on giving back the stare the blonde bitch shot me. I could do that much.

  Mayfair continued, “Which means a Werewolf was responsible for the death of an innocent human. A Werewolf who lived in an apartment full of regular people? Quite unusual.”

  “The comings and goings of my people are no concern of yours,” Vladymir replied with a dismissive gesture. “But if you must know, he provided security for the property. You must be careful these days, with all the drugs and crime rampant in the human world. My tenants needed to feel safe. As for the human officer, he should not have broken in and accosted my employee.”

  “Ah. Employee. I would’ve described him more as a slave, myself,” Mayfair said quietly. “Still, a human there on official police business. The rules are quite clear on matters that threaten exposure to the human world. Your Werewolf should have cooperated, in human form, or fled the scene completely. Instead, he chose to shift and do combat in the open. He lost.”

  “It’s clear he did not face normal humans. Incinerated on the spot? The resulting fire destroyed my property. Have you forgotten I owned that complex?”

  Again I wanted to flinch, but I didn’t do it.

  “How could I?” Mayfair asked. “You’ve mentioned it twice now. I assure you, I am well aware of the situation, and it has been handled.”

  “Everyone felt the surge of power …” He let the sentence trail off, and I could feel his eyes shift to me for a moment.

  I kept staring straight at Bitchy the Vampire.

  “Did they?” Mayfair asked. “I didn’t think it as big as all that. Perhaps a few of the more sensitives in the area experienced a small blip. At any rate, an anomaly to be sure.” He waved his hand to dismiss the comment. “I took care of it. It won’t happen again.”

  Were there letters of some kind on the inside of the gate columns? Were they beginning to glow softly? Come to think of it, why were Vladymir and his people standing outside the gate? It was open; why not just come up onto the porch and get out of this rain?

  “Has it.” Not a question.

  My arm was getting tired, so I switched hands on the umbrella.

  Vladymir leaned forward. “Perhaps this is a matter best taken before the Guardian.”

  “As always, that is your right. But I will assure him, just as I have assured you, that this matter is well under control. And who knows? He might be very interested to learn of a Werewolf living among humans. He might be very
interested indeed.”

  Vladymir glared at Mayfair, Bitchy glared at me, and I gave her as good as I got. Tensions were running high. Any minute now, everything was going to boil over; these people were going to come flying through the gate or simply start shooting. My hands twitched, the right one slowly starting to drift to where my 9 mm rested on my hip … completely covered by this damned trench coat! Shit!

  Of course, that’s when Abba cut through the heavy silence, belting out “Dancing Queen.”

  My cell’s ringtone.

  What can I say? I love disco.

  * * *

  “Who is this pretty young woman you have dragged out into the rain, Jack?”

  As they turned their eyes to me, I scrambled to pull the cell from its belt holster and silence it. Difficult while holding an umbrella above your head so it covered a too-tall man standing beside you and when you’re wearing a trench coat three sizes too big! My face flushed hot, and I tried to ignore it as I fumbled with the belt on the coat, snagged my cell, and hit the silence button on the side. I caught the caller ID, though, and had to fight the groan trying to escape my lips. I turned the ringer completely off and returned the cell to my belt as fast as I could manage. It couldn’t have taken more than a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours under Vladymir’s intense scrutiny. At least my gun was free now, more or less.

  “My apprentice,” Mayfair answered.

  If the temperature radiating from these people had been cold before, it dropped twenty degrees with those words. Bitchy the Vampire looked like someone had just slapped her across the face. Hard. Her jaw about hit the sidewalk, and I had to stifle a laugh. Vladymir just stared at me. Stared so long my skin began to crawl, but I gave as good as I got, blanking my expression and meeting his gaze levelly. Mostly. I stared at his nose and not his eyes, keenly aware I’d been pretty much covered in blood a few minutes ago and now stood in front of a bloodsucking Vampire.

  Great. I am now capitalizing Vampire in my head. The impossibility of that thought nearly made me cackle. I still needed a really strong drink.

  “This is intolerable,” he said softly, slowly shifting his gaze back to Jack Mayfair.

  “My affairs are my own, Vladymir Yurevich. You are well aware of that. I can Name whomever I wish.”

  “You are making a mistake, Jack.”

  “Perhaps, but it is my mistake to make.”

  “You arrogant—”

  Whatever Vladymir had been about to say, a flash of light so bright I had to cover my eyes and turn my face away swallowed it whole. When I turned back, the letters on the columns faded to a dull glow again. Jack Mayfair stood stock still beside me. Everything on this side of the gate hadn’t changed one bit. Beyond the gate? A different story. Vladymir lay sprawled on the ground, his Vampire groupies standing over him in various defensive stances.

  Vladymir’s face changed, and I froze. It contorted into a misshapen mass as long as a horse’s face but much thinner. His eyes bulged, mouth agape to display two rows of tiny, ragged black teeth. Worse than all of this, though, color bled through and changed his pallid skin to a red so dark it was nearly black. The mass beneath the surface undulated, stretching the skin unnaturally. I got the impression it wanted to push its way out.

  Mayfair’s hand gripped my arm briefly, and I breathed again. I didn’t even remember when I’d stopped, but his touch broke the spell and calmed my pounding heart.

  Several minutes passed before the Vampires got Vladymir back on his feet again. His face shifted and snapped back into shape with a slurping sound I never, ever wanted to hear again. They helped wipe the water from his coat and stand him up straight. He pushed them all away and stared daggers at Mayfair.

  I heard stone grating on stone and traced the source to the gargoyle on the column above me. Which didn’t seem to be moving at all, but I could swear the sound came from there. I shook my head, sending a spray of rain in a line around me. That’s when I remembered I’d lowered the umbrella and we were both getting soaked. I scrambled to bring it up above us again. For his part, Mayfair didn’t seem to notice anything but Vladymir.

  “You are not invited, Vladymir Yurevich Tupolev. And you never will be.”

  “Your arrogance is without measure.”

  “Family trait,” Mayfair smirked.

  “And look where it got them.”

  Mayfair’s face could’ve been cut from stone, anger boiling just under the surface. His hand had gone white clutching his skull cane. I resisted the urge to go for my gun again, fully expecting all of this to deteriorate into a fight any minute.

  “Your audience is ended, Vladymir Yurevich,” Mayfair said instead of throwing down.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how he’d throw down if it came to it. I don’t remember seeing a gun on the man, and I doubt a walking stick could do much damage against a Vampire. Unless it’s a stake or something, which, given who stood on the other side of the gate, had to be a possibility.

  “I will not forget this,” Vladymir spat, then snapped his fingers at the others. The door to the limo opened quickly, and the Vampires disappeared inside. The linebacker and his twin got in front and started it up. It sped off into the rain while Mayfair and I still stood there watching.

  “Nor will I,” Mayfair said in a half whisper. “Nor will I.”

  Chapter Six

  Mayfair stood there for several heartbeats before stepping out from under the umbrella and pushing the gate closed. Turning, he took a deep breath and seemed to deflate. I hadn’t realized it at first, but during the encounter with the Vampires, he’d seemed larger, radiating both authority and power. Now the power faded, leaving a man again, not a Wizard.

  He pulled his coat close around him as if he’d suddenly noticed the rain.

  “That was different,” I offered.

  “I’m sure you have questions. I encourage you to ask them.”

  “Where to start?”

  He shrugged, making no attempt to move back beneath the umbrella.

  Okay, if he wanted to get soaked, he could. “His face?” I asked, remembering how the thing inside seemed to be pushing against the skin to get out. The memory made me shudder.

  “I told you how they take human shape. They hollow out everything that is human and live in the skin. What you experienced was only a glimpse of the true monster. When they go on the attack, the weaker ones don’t look much different from you or me, but the strong ones, the old ones like Vladymir, they can absorb the outer skin, pull it inside to let the true monster out for a bit. Not long, but long enough.”

  Okay, new nightmares forming. “What kept them outside?” I pointed my nose at the gate behind him.

  “Places can have power, especially homes. A threshold, for example, can provide a protective barrier against most anything supernatural trying to get in.”

  “A fence isn’t a threshold,” I said. “Houses have thresholds, not fences.” I’d seen enough movies to know that much.

  “No,” he said, “it’s really not. The fence line all around the property is the first of many barriers to gaining entrance to Banba, each worse than the last for someone trying to enter against my will. They will hold back Vampires, some of the lesser Fey as well. Anything more powerful could easily break through—say, a Dragon for example. But they would think it beneath them to even try and would be so insulted by the whole affair they’d probably just destroy everything instead.”

  Ghosts, Werewolves, Vampires, and now Dragons. All capitals. Anytime this wild nightmare wants to end…

  “These … barriers? Would the glowing letters on the columns be part of it?”

  Mayfair lifted his chin sharply. “Yes. You could see them?”

  I pointed where they’d been, but Mayfair grabbed my hand and rubbernecked around as if he expected someone to jump out of the bushes.

  “No, don’t do that.” He stared at me. “Not everyone can see them, and I’d rather not have them pointed out.”

  “Okay. Gargoyles
too?”

  He nodded slowly. “Gargoyles too.”

  “He knew Russian. I thought he or it or whatever, replaced the person who used to wear that skin.”

  “It’s complicated. I admit we don’t know exactly how it all works. Maybe saying ‘hollowed out’ is misleading. More like they absorb and digest the person from the inside out.”

  “What a gross and disturbing image,” I said. “Thanks for the nightmares. So, he knows everything the person he replaced knew?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the whole biting thing? They bite you, you become like them?”

  “No,” he said. “Not exactly. That’s how they breed, for lack of a better word, but not all of them can do it. The old ones can, but it would kill the young. We only have rumors and legends to go on here, but their lack of population growth would seem to suggest some truth to it. Our best guess is it’s a form of asexual reproduction where they infect a human host with a piece of themselves. The piece grows quickly, absorbing the host and turning them. The old ones can do this three, maybe four times in a year.”

  “So were all of them—were they his spawn?”

  “Yes,” Mayfair nodded. “And all are genetically tied to him. As their maker, he can bend them to his will, feel when they are injured, find them when they’re lost, and probably a host of other things we don’t even know about. The connection is incredibly powerful—and their greatest weakness. Kill Vladymir, and all those he has made would die as well.”

  “Wow.” I considered that for a moment. “And how do you do it? How do you kill one? Stake to the heart like in the movies?”

  “Actually, yes. A wooden stake can hurt them. They are not a natural part of this world, so there is something about wood that repels them. But a stake alone would not kill a Vampire, especially not one as powerful as Vladymir. But if you staked him to the ground, he would die in a matter of minutes. They can’t pull the stake out, and the earth soaks up the blood sustaining them. They become a dried-up husk. Nature abhors them and will not abide their existence.”