Shrouds of Darkness

by Brock Deskins

  “Wait, you’re a Sheriff? Andre told us the Sheriffs wouldn’t bother us as long as we did what we were told! You’re not supposed to touch us!”

  “Oh I’m not a Sheriff—not anymore,” I reply as I cross the room and stand over him. “They fired me years ago. Seems they found me too violent, my tactics too heavy-handed. Can you believe that, me, violent and heavy-handed? Do I seem violent or heavy-handed to you, Mikey?” I ask as I pull my blade free, plunge it back into his chest but intentionally missing the spine, then giving it a twist for good measure.

  Mikey lets out a scream, his spinal cord already healing enough to return the sense of pain thanks to what I assume to be some gluttonous eating habits.

  “Please, please tell me what you want to know, just stop stabbing me!”

  “Who told you the Sheriffs are supposed to leave you alone and why?”

  He shook his head rapidly. “Andre told all of us. He said we could feed all we want as long as we don’t draw too much attention to the humans and stayed near Brooklyn.”

  “Who’s Andre?” I ask but I already have a sneaking suspicion.

  “He’s in charge. He got orders from someone else; I don’t know who, I swear.”

  “Was Andre a black guy with dreadlocks, from the islands?”

  Mikey nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s him! He knows more than me. I don’t know nothing but what he tells me.”

  “No good. I killed Andre last night along with T-dog and some other stupid-looking white kid. Who turned you?”

  “Andre’s dead? Oh man, oh man.”

  I give my sword a gentle twist to get Mikey’s attention again. “Let’s focus on what’s important here, Mikey. Who turned you and where was Andre getting his orders?”

  My gentle prodding elicits another suppressed scream from the kid. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

  “You don’t know what, who turned you or where the orders come from?”

  “Neither, you fucker! I don’t know who turned me; none us do. It was the same with all of us. I was at a club talking to some smoking-hot Asian chick. She was asking me what I thought about stuff like power and money. Then she started asking me about weird shit like wanting to live forever and what I would do to get all that. I woke up in a room. Andre was there and T-dog and Street but I didn’t know them then. I got really sick for a couple days and they had me drink blood and that helped. Then they brought in this homeless guy or something and told me I had to kill him and drink his blood. They told me I was a vampire now and told me to follow Andre and do what he said.”

  “Did they ever tell you who the woman was or who brought you in?”

  “No, just that it was largely the same with them; hooking up with someone, getting asked weird questions, and being brought in unconscious by a couple dudes in long coats and masks.”

  As strange as all this sounded, it is starting to make some sense to me now, but I am still lost on the motive. Someone is obviously creating their own little gang but why, and more importantly, how? The odds of creating a vampire are really low. Our condition simply isn’t easily transferrable. It’s not like a damn cold. It’s more like post-vaccine polio, but here I have four that appear to have been created specifically to create a powerbase. Does this mean there are hundreds or even thousands of failed attempts sunk in the bay or has someone found a way to increase the likelihood of transmission? Call me dark, but I’m really hoping for the former.

  “How many more little gangs are out there like yours?” I ask, really hoping for none but knowing better.

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure there’s at least one in every borough but there could be more. I don’t know, I swear.”

  “Do you have contact with any of the other groups?”

  Mikey shakes his head. “No, we aren’t allowed to communicate even if we cross paths.”

  “What about Andre? He must have talked to someone outside the group, gotten his orders from a higher up.”

  “No. He had a phone but the incoming number was always blocked when they called. Most of his orders came from a drop location on paper and we didn’t have many of those. Just to stay put for now and hunt only in Brooklyn.”

  “Mikey, you have caught me in a rare moment of compassion. You have been helpful and cooperative so I’m going to let you live. If you happen to come across any more of your little gang members, you tell them Leo is coming for them.”

  I free my sword from the young vamp’s chest and use the fire escape to make my exit. The kid is probably stupid enough to think that I had acted with mercy, but the fact is that it is a tactical decision, not one of involving any sort of emotion. The only thing his information revealed is that whoever is behind all this is damn smart. These gangs he or she is setting up are built into small cells much like the more advanced terrorist cells are. No one cell knows the identity or locations of another until you got to the top, or real close to it.

  By far, the most disturbing thing the kid said is confirming that the Sheriffs were involved. The question now is how deep did go and how high? Did Wyatt have a rogue operative or two inside his squad or is the entire thing rotten with him part of it? My first inclination is to kick down Wyatt’s door along with several of his teeth and find out but I dismiss it as logic insists on being heard. If the whole of the Sheriff’s organization is corrupt, I really do not want to go in guns blazing. That is a bit more than even my inflated ego and I are ready to take head on.

  No, better to let Mikey go and hope he leads me to more of his gang. I don’t know if Mikey is completely honest about not knowing anyone else outside his cell. T-dog’s phone records hint that there is more communication than he let on, but I am willing to bet after I took out Andre and his cronies last night, someone has these guys being watched and they would certainly talk to Mikey and some of the others.

  I don’t have Andre’s phone but it isn’t hard for Marvin to get his call logs from the provider’s database now that he has the information from the phone I gave him, and that definitely has some numbers and addresses I need to check out tonight. In fact, I am willing to bet there will be a lot these guys were going to want to discuss once Mikey passes along my little message.

  Another cab ride and I am home again. I grab a bag of blood from my refrigerator and sit down to call Marvin. If I keep getting into fights I will need to hunt and take a life soon, but right now, I need to keep the inertia going on my case.

  “Marvin, I need you to look at the guy named Andre’s phone logs. Cross reference them with the phone I gave you along with Mikey’s and see if any calls show up more often than the others. I also need you to watch Mikey’s phone and track who he calls and see if those numbers correspond with the other most called numbers. Can you do that?”

  “Marvin does not have that kind of mad skill but Mo’ Money can do it no problem. Maybe if you asked him real nice he would be happy to look into it.”

  It takes significant effort on my part not crush my own phone and hope that it somehow reaches Marvin’s skinny neck on the other end. “Marvin, do not toy with me. If I have to replace you, I will, and when I replace someone, I replace them permanently. Do not make me downsize our business. Do you understand me?”

  “You know, you create a very hostile work environment that is not conducive to maximum performance,” Marvin replies, sulking from his easily bruised ego.

  “How about broken legs, would that add or take away from your overall performance? For me, motivation through fear of impending pain is an excellent method in achieving maximum productivity from my employees.”

  “All right, don’t get your BVD’s in a bunch. Yeah, I can do that, no problem. I already have access to their accounts so I can track the calls.”

  “Good. I have one more thing that may be a little harder. Can you triangulate the exact, current position of those cell phones?”

  Marvin pauses to think then replies excitedly, “Yeah! I can track the time differential of the signal as it reaches di
fferent cell towers. Then I can reverse plot that onto a satellite map from the towers back to the source of the signal. Where the lines intersect is where that phone is. Oh man, this is some straight up James Bond, CIA shit here! Damn I love being a genius!”

  “I’m glad you’re a genius too just don’t think so much of yourself that you start thinking you can’t be replaced. There’s seven billion people on this planet; there’s bound to be a few more geniuses amongst them.”

  “Yeah, but do you speak Chinese?” Marvin fires back, “because there’s like a ninety percent chance that’s who they’ll be.”

  “Actually I do speak passable Chinese.”

  “Oh. Well don’t you worry, I got this.”

  “Good work, Marvin. I never doubted you,” I tell him, figuring it is always good policy to provide a little positive reinforcement as long as they remember that negative reinforcement is very near at hand.

  “By the way,” Marvin says just as I’m about to hang up, “Mo’ Money is no employee. Mo’ Money is at least a valued partner.”

  “Yeah, but Marvin is my bitch so you average that out any way you want so long as you do your job.”

  “You’re a real asshole, Malone.”

  “That’s what people keep telling me. I’ll call you tonight when I need the locations of those phones.”

  A knock at my door sounds as I hang up on Marvin. It’s safe to assume anyone meaning me harm would not bother to knock so I don’t bother checking to see who it is, but I do keep a firm hold on Shalonda’s grip inside my pocket as I open the door.

  Katherine is standing in the doorway, illuminated in the golden aura of the sun like an angel sent down to save my soul—assuming I still have one. I almost let slip my façade and return the bright smile that is on her perfect lips. Fortunately, I am instantly aware of the poetic crap my brain is currently processing and that sufficiently sours my mood enough to prevent it.

  “May I come in?”

  I pause to respond so she simply shoulders past me and takes a seat on the only other piece of furniture I own.

  “How did that lead turn out?” she asks me.

  “I’m still seeing where it goes. I should have more information tonight. I did confirm that vampires are behind most of this.”

  “Hm, that’s not good.”

  “It gets worse. It looks like at least one or more Sheriffs are involved which means someone fairly high up the chain is also involved. I’ve never known any Sheriffs to have the imagination to attempt a power grab on their own.”

  “Do you have any idea who might be at the top of this and why they would involve my father?”

  I shake my head but tell her my suspicions. “Right now my lead suspect is Vincent.”

  Katherine looks appropriately shocked at my accusation. “Vincent, head of the Council Vincent? Why would he risk so much on something so dangerous? Surely he doesn’t want a war with the werewolves?”

  “I’m not sure. Vincent is old, really old and he is not fond of change. He comes from a time when vampires were feared wielded enormous influence and power. It could be he wants to recapture that. I have also heard that his influence is slipping amongst the Council and voting vampires. He could simply be creating a crisis so that he can resolve it and make himself look stronger.”

  “You think he would take that big a risk just to get reelected?” Katherine asks, finding it hard to believe considering the high potential of disaster.

  “It got Bush reelected after 9-11,” I reply with a shrug. “Look, Katherine, I need you to stay away from me. Don’t even call me. It’s for your own safety.”

  Katherine bolts from the couch and starts jabbing me in the chest with a finger as she speaks. “I told you before, Leo Malone, you’re not going to scare me off that easily. I’m a big girl and I’ll make my own decisions! I gave you my heart and more and I won’t be cast aside because you’re scared!”

  I gently grab her finger and hold her hand. “It’s not about me, not really. If someone isn’t watching me right now, they certainly will be after tonight, and the less they know about you the better. If they have seen you with me already then they probably just assume you hired me to look for your father. But if they even think there is more to it they can use you against me, use you to hurt me and to stop me from doing my job. I’ll keep you informed whenever I get new information, but right now it is best that we have as few connections as possible.”

  Katherine gives thought to my words and sees that they make sense. “All right, but when this is over I’ll be back. And, Leo…”

  “Yes?”

  “If they hurt my father, I hope you kill every one of them,” Katherine remarks with a level of scorn that makes me proud.

  “You can count on that. I won’t even charge extra.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After Katherine leaves I head into my armory to prepare for my date tonight. I go for the practical yet stylish Miguel Caballero bulletproof trench coat with custom-made weapon holders. It’s my last one so I really hope it doesn’t get terribly damaged but that is highly unlikely.

  As house warming gifts, I choose a wide assortment of explosives, my favorite amongst them being my high-tech triple whammy which I created by duct taping a smoke, concussion, and fragmentation grenade together.

  A few other explosives crafted for various particular functions round out my collection of party favors and I stash the smaller ones amongst my many pockets and retaining straps while the larger ones go into a black combat pack.

  "All right, Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close-up," I jokingly say to my empty chamber. And people say I don’t have a sense of humor. I crack me up sometimes.

  I told Marvin to call me and report any increase in activity, but other than several calls being made, there has been no real physical movement yet so I sit and wait. My gut tells me they will meet tonight, and as the clock slowly rolls over onto the next day, I get the call I am waiting for.

  “Leo, I got several of those numbers moving all towards the same spot. It looks like they’re all heading towards the docks on the northwest side of Brooklyn just north of Conover Street. Two of the phone numbers are already there and haven’t moved for about thirty minutes so I’m betting that’s where they’re all going. I can’t say for sure, but Google maps show a huge brick warehouse near the water. I’d bet money that’s where they are. That’s as close as I can get you.”

  “I know the place. Good work, Marvin. I’m shutting my phone off so I’ll be out of touch until this is all over. Keep looking into Vtech’s security logs and let me know what you find out.”

  I hang up and shut my phone off so an errant call does not give me away. I need my surprise to be total. I am going to be outnumbered but I figure I outclass them by a significant amount. So far, all these scum have just been younglings and street thugs. None of the vampires I have crossed so far have been particularly well trained or been a vampire long enough to have come fully into their full strength. The entire physics of fighting changes when you have a near twenty-foot vertical leap and enough strength to throw someone like a shot put.

  It is this difference in skill and shear meanness that I hope will give me the deciding edge in this conflict. That could all change depending on who else shows up to play. Even a couple decently trained Sheriffs could cause my entire plan to go bad real fast, but I never let small concerns like that keep me from doing what needs to be done.

  Taking a cab is out of the question. I don’t want any witnesses putting me anywhere near the scene but I need to get there quick. It is time to dust off my trusty bike. It is an old 1981 Yamaha Maxim and it is unregistered and used only on rare occasions. It is also still common enough to give me plausible deniability of any witness sightings.

  I take off in the opposite direction of my destination just in case someone is already watching me. I weave in and out of the mild traffic of the late night, zip through several alleyways, and use streets with little or no nearby roofs that would
allow another vampire to follow by that elevated route. Once I am certain no one is following me, I make haste towards the suspected rendezvous point.

  I park several blocks from the warehouse. There are no nearby structures in which to cross to the warehouse by rooftop so I have to chance the open ground. I’m not too concerned. It is a cloudy, moonless night and I am decked out head to toe in black. The likelihood of posted guards is also slight. One of the vampires’ greatest weaknesses is the confidence of their own immortality. This is especially true of the young ones who still remember how weak and frail their human bodies were by comparison. They will likely be confident that no lone vampire, regardless of his fearsome reputation, will attack an unknown number of enemies.

  As I prefer to be, I am right and they are wrong. I spy no guards outside the building at all and I am fully prepared to deal an ass-whooping of epic proportions upon the occupants of that building no matter how many of them there are. I think I have kept to the shadows for too long. People have forgotten what it means to cross Leo Malone. It is time to put the fear of reality back into the legend. The thought gives me shivers and a slight chubby. I need to focus better.

  I stick three small explosives to the steel door that is used to enter the building, place a hefty satchel charge in front of it, and attach a trip wire to door handle in case someone opens it before I am ready.

  Locating a drainage pipe bolted to the wall, I quickly shinny up the side and gain the roof where I set up a dozen small shape charges in a ring about ten feet across not far from the door I booby trapped a minute ago . I peer through the broken pane of a skylight and take stock of the goings on below.

  There are perhaps a dozen figures gathered near the center of the cavernous chamber below, gesticulating and shouting in obvious agitation. The mob does not worry me as much as the lone figure that most of them are addressing their concerns to.

  He, or she, since whoever it is wearing a mask and hood to conceal their features and identity, stands seemingly impassive at the fore of the crowd.