Vampire Enforcer (Hidden Blood Book 1)

by Al K. Line

  If we caused too much of a disturbance we'd be arrested, and if we resisted, showed our true selves, then the Council would lock us up and then execute us, no chance of mercy.

  "They've definitely picked a good spot for this," I said. "All they have to do is shout for help and the police will be right there."

  "So we have to eliminate them quietly. Take a side each, grab them fast, and load them into that truck there." Dancer pointed at a large vehicle with the back doors open, parked in darkness against the trees that bordered the open space.

  We nodded and although it was clear none of us thought this was the best plan Dancer had ever had, we nonetheless went to break bones, melt flesh, and stop them before they activated the machine.

  I knew it wouldn't work, so did Dancer, and I had the feeling he was just killing time until the madness began. At least then, once everyone went nuts, we'd be able to do as we wished. No way could the police force control a city full of maniacs once this thing got into its stride.

  So I put my game face on and decided to have a hot dog later.

  Picking Them Off

  The only good thing about goblins is they don't weigh much, not that it would have been much of a problem even if they weighed as much as trolls. I left Dancer and Persimmon to their own work and focused on mine.

  I weaved through the throng easily, tapping shoulders and ducking around the staring, chattering people, shoving if I had to, sliding between the tight press of bodies. Goblins were everywhere, many more than I'd realized. I watched as several disappeared, Dancer shrouding himself and his prey as he grabbed them in a headlock and they vanished from sight, leaving just a colored wig or a red nose behind.

  Persimmon used her feminine wiles to distract anyone too close to the goblins immersed in their work at a control center identical to the one back in the cavern, and when the men and women were lost to thoughts of naughty times, she let her shifter nature ever so slightly emerge and snicked out with a deadly paw to dispatch unfortunate goblins before dragging the bodies away, one under each arm, laughing and joking like they'd just had one too many in the beer tent.

  My turn.

  A number of them were gathered around several large cogs yet to be mounted, the last few pieces of the terrible puzzle by the looks of it. I checked the area, but everyone was mesmerized by the towering machine, so I sped into action, body a blur of speed. Before they knew what had hit them, I'd grabbed one in each hand and squeezed their throats until they were unconscious. Their makeup rubbed off on my coat, making me squeeze tighter than maybe I should have.

  By the time I got to the truck their bodies were limp. I threw them in on top of the others, the back of the truck already filling up.

  Back I went, more goblins beside the cogs, so focused on their work they didn't even notice their comrades had gone missing.

  Seven more times I made the same trip, until between us we'd probably got a quarter of them stashed away.

  I paused for a breather outside the closed truck but got no respite—the noise was becoming an issue even above the roar of the fair.

  "Do something," I said as Dancer opened the doors and manhandled two lifeless corpses with faces painted, bizarrely, like cute bunnies inside. Two goblins dashed for freedom but I smashed them hard in the face and they rebounded back inside, hit the far wall of the truck's cab, then slumped to the dirty floor.

  "You're the one not killing them," he accused.

  "We can't kill them all, that's not right. We just need to keep them quiet until this is over." I stared inside and said, "Anyway, you're not killing all yours, just knocking most of them out. Persimmon too." Dancer grunted and with that Persimmon appeared, dragging two bodies behind her like meat she was saving for later. She heaved them up and I took the legs as we flung them in.

  "These dudes stink," moaned Persimmon. "And I hate clowns."

  "Who doesn't?" said Dancer. "We need to shroud this truck."

  "So do it," I said.

  "Okay, but this kind of stuff isn't my strong point. You two will have to finish this on your own. I'll deal with these, you bring the bodies."

  We nodded and got to work as Dancer mumbled under his breath. The whole truck shimmered as he walked around the vehicle making a circle that instantly shut off all noise, and probably repelled anyone who felt like having a look inside.

  With just the two of us we decided to form a more full on attack, meaning we needed a diversion to get as many of them off the machine as fast as possible.

  We spotted the perfect thing.

  Persimmon crouched by a large generator powering the bumper cars. I watched until everyone got off then nodded to her. She saluted, lit a length of soaked cloth that ran into the fuel tank, then ducked away fast.

  Almost instantly the tank exploded and metal rained down. Luckily, people were well away and nobody was hurt but the effect was instant panic. There have been bombs in the city and everyone is still very paranoid about terrorists, so it was hardly surprising that the incredible noise sent people running for cover in a panic.

  As the crowds dispersed and people scurried screaming in all directions, some out to the roads, others up to the museum to take shelter, I did the shimmer shuffle and was on the goblins before they had time to react.

  I smashed through them like a whirlwind, punching out fast and furiously, not bothering to gather them up as Persimmon was already working her way through the carnage I'd created and dragging them off as they fell.

  There were so many, and they're such sneaky buggers, that my attack grew less effective as the easy marks were dealt with. They knew something was happening but didn't know what. None were scared off by the explosion, but by their neighbors smashing to the ground in various states of destruction then being dragged off.

  More goblins dashed to the machine from out of nowhere, all made up like tigers, and I slowed as it was impossible to keep aiming properly at them with my fists when they were all in such a muddle. I came to a dead stop in front of three at the edge of the newly dug pit, the digger now backed away. I saw that the machine already had the strange pumping mechanism in place, disappearing into darkness far below. This hole was obviously not dug by the digger alone, magic of one form or another was involved and that wasn't good.

  A thick steel tube from the base of the machine pulsed as it fattened, as if the metal was made of rubber. Moments later a deep rumble began from deep inside the tunnel then vibrated through the earth. Shrugging, and knowing it was quicker, I slammed all three heads together and they collapsed, falling down the shaft. They didn't even scream, but they woke something. An almighty howl of wind roared up from the hole and with it came incredible heat. Like their bodies had somehow punched through the last vestiges of our reality and hit the hells beneath.

  Turning, I saw a group of goblins working frantically at the console, glancing around nervously, cajoling and bickering as several fiddled with the underside, wires in hands and pliers between decaying teeth, as others twiddled knobs and pulled levers then shouted obscenities.

  I sped up again and launched myself onto the machine itself, grabbing goblins and flinging them off the cogs and metal protrusions as sirens wailed and police converged on the area. Lights from police cars flashed, sirens from ambulances and fire engines lit the distance and turned the castle walls orange and blood red as they converged on the suspected bomb. I panicked a little.

  I smashed the goblins off frantically but there were so many of them and they were so agile that no sooner had I got rid of one than another took its place, hurriedly trying to put the last machine parts in place. All the while, the structure throbbed with the beginnings of the magic somehow drawn from the realm of spirits.

  Then I was at the very top of the thing, standing on a giant cog. I stared down at the carnage below, bodies everywhere, people flailing and screaming, fires burning where the generator had exploded. I saw the top of the truck where the goblins had been locked away.

  The air shimmered
around it but the roof was on fire, and I screamed to Dancer but he didn't hear me. Whatever they'd done, or planned to do, we couldn't let them burn to death in the truck. That's inhuman, and I may not be the person I was but if I let this happen I'd be a cold-blooded bitch and my humanity would be lost.

  I wobbled as I nearly lost my balance, and peered down only to find that the cog was turning slowly. There was a cheer, and the clown goblins around the console fist-bumped the air and slapped each other on the back. I groaned as I saw the lever pulled back into place and several switches activated. A pompous looking technician with a huge spotted bow tie snapped an already set dial into place. I bet this one went up to eleven.

  The machine stuttered then the cogs all moved on greased arms and the teeth bit into each other. My guts churned as the whole large extended arm began to pump up and down rhythmically.

  I scrambled down, dropped the last fifteen feet, landed in a crouch and rushed to the truck, screaming, "Dancer, let them out, let them out," as I pointed up at the roof, now engulfed in flame.

  The barrier shimmered then disappeared. Dancer yanked open the doors, and goblins blinked and rubbed their eyes, confronted with a night bright with lights and fire. They had one focus, and all stared at the machine that was bringing hell to Cardiff fair.

  I moaned when I noticed that the hot dog stall was ablaze.

  A Problem

  The goblins tumbled out of the truck in a rage of green mania and red and blue wigs, skinny legs and arms pumping furiously as they dashed to their beloved machine, everything else forgotten. They neither glanced back nor showed the least concern for their dead, intent only on one thing.

  The massive pump worked flawlessly, the big bulbous-headed arm going up and down, the cogs turning as smoothly as if they'd just been forged. It bobbed then raised its head and the whole area took on a strange pallor as strings of green bulbs pulsed on and off in time to the movement.

  The crowds slowly came back, some of the rides still running with people screaming, as they'd been abandoned by the fairground folk. As they slowed and people climbed down, wobbly and moaning, many threw up on the grass. Police were everywhere now, cars and vans parked at crazy angles as squads dashed out. Riot police pushed through the crowds as people asked questions and spoke excitedly about the explosion.

  That's the thing about the Welsh, they love to gossip, and as was always the case, the Welsh grapevine worked so damn well that half the city appeared out of nowhere to come see what all the fuss was about.

  Ambulances arrived, fire engines spat out men and women dressed in full gear. Hoses were unreeled and used to put out larger fires while fire extinguishers were used to douse smoldering lumps of metal.

  The truck was covered in some kind of foam before being put out with water, and I figured it would be a total nightmare to explain, what with the bodies inside. Dancer smiled with an evil grin as he snapped his fingers and the vehicle lurched to life then slowly drove away, sending fire crews and Regulars scurrying for safety.

  "How the hell did you do that? What magic is that?" I asked.

  "I called a goon, he's driving," said Dancer with a wink.

  "Ah, right."

  As police and fire fighters stood in groups talking, all heads turned to the mangled metal that had been the generator. It was obvious they were satisfied it had been a fault and not terrorists. Many machines were now switched off, but people were arguing with the owners, clamoring to have a ride now the threat had passed.

  The news had spread that it was a simple fire, and although personally I wouldn't want to go anywhere near a ride knowing the generator could pack in at any moment, that didn't stop people. They were here for the fair and they'd damn well enjoy themselves.

  What was wrong with them? Weren't they afraid?

  No, of course they bloody weren't.

  The machine sped up, the ground pounded to the beat of a hellish drum, and nobody could give a shit about anything.

  Why would they? They weren't scared any more. Of anything.

  Faster, Faster

  Police co-ordinated with the firefighters and taped off areas where the fires had been extinguished fast and efficiently. Then everything changed. The firefighters began arguing with the police, shouting at them, telling them to let them do their job, and the boys in blue grouped together and taunted the teams, laughing at them with their breathing masks.

  Soon there were factions squaring off against each other, then the riot police crowded in, pushing with their shields, kicking out with their heavy boots, and the truncheons were raised.

  We moved away, knowing we couldn't intervene as all we'd get for our trouble would be smashed heads if we were lucky. Magic wouldn't do us much good as the only one of us able to do anything even remotely subtle was Dancer, and he was already looking exhausted after whatever he'd done to the truck.

  Things were about to get out of hand, it was obvious, and small fights broke out. Even the ambulance crews got involved, and it would have been funny if it hadn't been so serious. They began to punch and kick to get to those that were already down and in need of medical attention.

  Then radios crackled and angry voices pressed buttons and answered calls. The emergency services stomped back to vehicles with warnings to their colleagues, and left, leaving just a skeleton crew behind.

  It was clear what was happening. The city had erupted into violence and was burning. They had to go deal with the endless outbreaks throughout the city. Streets away, I could see fires lighting the night sky; the smell of smoke filled the air.

  The crowds paid little attention to any of this, they wanted their fun and would make sure they had it. People crowded around rides, shoving and jostling to get a seat, laughing manically as rides raised then spun them around faster and faster. The men in control pushed the machines to their limits as everyone screamed to go faster and faster, shouting angrily when the rides slowed down so the next group could get their turn.

  "This is going to get very bad, very quickly," I said to Dancer as we watched the chaos unfold.

  "I know, but we have to be careful what we do. Don't lose the plot, don't let this take you over. You have to focus, be aware of the difference between what you feel and what's being forced on you."

  "I've already mastered that. Had a lot of practice," I said, gritting my teeth as a wave of anger at Dancer's stupid hair made me want to punch him in the face then stomp on his head.

  "Good. Persimmon, how are you?"

  "Fine," she said sweetly. "It doesn't affect most of us, I'm cool." Dancer and I exchanged worried glances then ushered Persimmon away into the shadows between the vehicles, talking low and in soothing voices as we did so.

  "Guys, will you get the fuck off me? Why are you treating me like a kid? I'll slice your fucking ear off if either of you touch me again." Persimmon shrugged Dancer's hand off her shoulder and she took a step back from us as I lowered my own hands.

  "Um, I think it might be affecting you," said Dancer, glancing at me quickly and nodding for me to keep my distance.

  "I'm fine, I told you," Persimmon snapped.

  "Then why are your hands like that?" Dancer hissed.

  Persimmon looked down at her hands, except they weren't her usually perfectly manicured nails and delicate but strong fingers. They were covered in fur, fat and meaty with claws curved and dangerous. "Oh, damn! I didn't even realize."

  "Keep it cool, don't let your anger rise too high. You've lost any sense of fear so you don't care who sees you or what might happen. But remember, if we show ourselves it will all come back on us. We'll be history when this is over, if we don't get ourselves killed first," warned Dancer.

  Persimmon took deep breaths, her chest heaving in a mesmerizing fashion, and I had to swallow the annoyance, the wish to kick her for being so damn lovely. Her hands morphed back to her own and she kept breathing deep until her body found a rhythm. Unexpectedly, her face turned dark and she turned on me fast, and hissed, "What are you look
ing at, skinny? What, you got something to say?"

  Forcing myself not to lose it, I said, "You're locked into the rhythm of the machine. Change your breathing, and remember we're friends."

  It was like a jab to the ribs and Persimmon caught her breath, inhaled and exhaled randomly until the spell was broken, then nodded a silent apology.

  "Let's move. We can't hang around, we have to stop this. Now. Just go grab the goblins and break the bloody machine up. That's the main goal, get to the console and turn it off. These people will kill themselves if we don't stop this soon. Ugh, why are the goblins doing this?"

  "Because they're mean," said Persimmon.

  "Let's go," ordered Dancer.

  We moved cautiously from the safety of the dark and into the strobing lights and the blare of dated rock music. I watched the machine pumping its head up and down as if it were pleased with what it saw.

  I wasn't.

  A Regular Disaster

  Students ran past us, skipping and jumping about wildly, their faces distorted with manic grins. Their hysteria was far from unique, everyone was the same. Dashing this way and that, jabbering excitedly about the ride they wanted to go on or how fast they'd go. Groups ran around chasing each other, oblivious to their wounds, playing aggressive games of rugby but without the ball. They tackled each other to the ground, torn clothing and copious pints of blood unnoticed. I noticed the blood, though, and I caught myself licking my lips numerous times.

  The rides were overrun now. Those in charge either went with the crowds' wishes and let them run ridiculously fast, overriding the safety features, or were thrown aside and the revelers took control, pushing the machines beyond their limits.

  The lights on the attractions pulsed in time to the machine, flickering, shining bright then dull, myriad colors transforming the fair into a hellish scene Bosch would have been proud to paint.

  And then the vampires came.

  Scores of them, wild and excited, infected by the will of the machine and the energy of the people, unable to resist the power of such life force as it shone bright and angry, full of hate and violence, craving ever more extreme experiences. The vampires moved fast, a blur to Regulars, even most Hidden, but I saw them. I recognized them and witnessed their actions.