Bigby smiled to himself. He knew what was going through the kid's head. As far as he could tell, no one else had noticed. The kid was in love with Amanda Keening.
Or at least he thought he was.
Twenty-one
The road slid beneath the van, a low hum that seemed hypnotic to Cory as he sat in the back with his arms and legs restrained by some invisible force that held him fast. He glanced over at his riding companion, a bull necked fellow with a nose of truly epic proportions. Chase had introduced him as “Nicky the Nose” and mentioned that he knew a lot more about Cory's progenitor than Chase himself knew.
They rode in silence for while, except for the low sounds of NPR playing on the radio in front.
Finally Cory broke the silence. “Tell me about Dave, will you, Nick?"
"Sure, kid. Why not? Not like either of us are doing anything else for the next ten hours or so.” Nicky the Nose settled back in the seat and regarded him through small, beady eyes. He took a long drink from the beer he held clenched in one scarred fist.
"See, Dave was a hit man for the mob. One of the best. When they heard Dave had been sent after ‘em, guys would tie on their own cement galoshes and go for a swim. Only person out there scarier than Dave was Morgan, but she's another story altogether. Even before he was a dead guy, Dave was like a ghost. The Feds could never get a good handle on him. Every time they thought they were getting close, he'd disappear like a magic bunny.
"Anyway—Dave was out on a job and he disappeared for a while. That's when he was getting nibbled by the vamp, I guess. When he reappeared he sent a message to the Bosses and said he was retiring. Without even finishing the job he was on.
"The Big Boys don't like that sort of thing, so they sent two Goombahs to have a little chat with Dave, explain that a guy just don't do that sort of thing.
"About a week later they show back up in Jersey out for blood. Literally. Chewed through half the Tenezi family before they figured out how to stop ‘em. They weren't playing nice, neither. They didn't make anyone into a vamp. They'd suck ‘em dry and crush ‘em like an empty beer can.
"Now, this scared the crap out of the Bosses, but it also ticked ‘em off. For the Big Boys, there ain't a lot of difference between the two emotions, see. They're funny that way.
"They tried to hire Morgan to off Dave, but she'd already heard all about it and told ‘em to go piss up a rope. That left them in quite a spot. See, you just don't argue with Morgan. They call her Death's Daughter, and say that if she held Lucifer's contract, the Big Bad himself would be screaming for witness protection.
"So they pretty much gave up on Dave. Smart thing, too, since he sent ‘em a message that told ‘em that if they kept messin’ with him, he was going to come back and put the bite on ‘em personally. And he wasn't going to be as nice as those two mooks he returned to sender.
"But our boss, he got curious. Wanted to meet Dave. Wants to know what being a vamp is all about. So he sent the Doc and me looking for him. He ain't an easy guy to track, that's for sure. He don't leave no dead bodies lying around, or make too many vamps anymore. Nah, he don't kill people no more ‘less they deserve it, I guess.
"The trick we found is to go looking for happy hookers. Yep. Dave blows into town, picks up a whole drill team worth of decent looking ‘ladies of the evenin', and does them right good. Has a little nibble off of each one and keeps them in nirvana for a while. Being a vamp must be like having a never-endin’ supply of Viagra, ay, kid?
"Hell, you're fifteen. What do you know from Viagra, right?” He snorted. “Dave's got this kind of wandering Good Samaritan thing going these days. Blows into town, plays house with a bevy of beauties, then helps a few folks out. He's hell on the pimps, that's for sure. Doesn't kill ‘em, though. Probably be better for them if he did. He mind-fucks ‘em instead. Hear there's one guy in Salem who used to be a big time playa but now he's running a freakin’ nursery, of all things.” He couldn't help but shudder at that.
"Sometimes he leaves a vamp behind—like you, kid. Left two in Portland, I guess. Don't know why. Know they were a hell of a lot harder to grab than you turned out to be. Guess the female of the species is just nastier. Or maybe it's you being so young and all.” He shrugged. “No offense, kid, but you really ain't that scary."
That's okay, Cory thought to himself, leaning back and closing his eyes. The sun was rising over the horizon. Exhaustion fell on him like a stone blanket. A smile spread slowly across his lips as he heard Nicky's parting words. “I thought being scary kinda came with the territory, but I guess you can't all be monsters."
I can live with scary. Don't have to be a monster to be scary.
* * * *
Tacoma, WA
Athena raised dark eyes as Amanda entered, closing the office door behind her. “Amanda. You look wasted. Are you okay?"
"About as well as can be expected,” Amanda said, dropping into the guest chair with a sigh. She'd made the ten hour drive in seven. Her head as though someone had been using it for a drum for longer than that. She rubbed a spot in the middle of her forehead and groaned. “Mission accomplished."
"She's dead?"
"As the proverbial doornail."
"That's not the whole story, is it?"
Amanda shook her head. “Hardly. I'll trade you a cup of coffee for the whole story."
"Sounds like a deal.” She pressed a button on her intercom. “Sheila—could you bring in a cup of coffee for my guest, please?"
"Sure thing, Athena."
Once she had a cup in hand, Amanda leaned back and stared at the immortal woman who sat across from her. Athena didn't look a day over twenty-five, even though she was actually somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-five thousand. She had a strong jaw, pug nose, and black hair that swept away from her brow like a pair of raven's wings. “I arrived to find my brother and mother had already been turned into vampires by the kid, Cory Flynn. Jason invited it, Gina didn't."
"It was a total mess down there, Athena. We had a flock of vampires—do vampires come in a flock, a pack, or something else?—a teenage werewolf, a Marine fire team, and a couple of cops, and we still almost got ourselves killed."
She ran through the whole sordid story in about five minutes, finishing with their frenzied escape from the caverns, trying to gloss over the slaughter of Veronica's zombie people as much for her own benefit as for Athena's.
"Sounds rough,” Athena replied. “Nightmares?"
Amanda snorted. “If you can get nightmares when you're not even asleep. I see it every time I close my eyes."
Athena locked gazes with her and nodded, as if to herself. “Take two weeks."
"Two weeks?"
"Vacation. You earned it."
"What the hell am I supposed to do with two weeks off?"
"Hell if I care. Go to Mardi Gras, earn yourself some beads."
Amanda gave her a cold stare. “Have you seen what I have to work with? I'll be lucky if I see a bead."
"Now you're just being difficult. Get out of here. I don't want to see you until you've had some time to work through what happened."
"Shit.” Amanda stood. “Fine. I'll find something to do.” She turned to leave.
"One more thing."
Amanda heard a drawer open and glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch a leather wallet as it flew through the air at her. She caught it and flipped it open. It had a real badge and ID card inside.
"You made the grade. You're a full agent now. Congratulations."
"Thanks, I guess. I'd feel better about it if you hadn't just chased me out."
"You'll get over it. Take care of yourself, Amanda. Go get drunk, get laid, and try to forget about it."
Amanda grunted once, tucked the wallet into her jacket, and snatched a mana thread out of the air. She cast a quick transit spell and arrived a brief heartbeat later in her old room at the Academy. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see her belongings already packed up and ready to go. She grabbed up the stac
k of boxes and transited out again.
Time to go house hunting.
* * * *
Athena spent some few minutes staring at the spot where the girl had vanished before reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a silver flask. She unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swig. The liquid left a satisfying trail of fire down her throat into her stomach.
The girl had made it through, but Athena had known she would. The girl had brains, talent, and grit, despite being the size of the average thirteen year old. She had high hopes for her. Once she'd gotten a little seasoning, Athena thought she'd be perfect to head the Magical Activities Division.
Time would tell.
Epilogue
July 8 2008,
Las Vegas, Nevada
Darian Brooks had been here too long. He'd come to this hellhole to find his fortune, like so many others before him, and been bound here in chains of loss and dark gray hopelessness. He'd become just another brother in a dead-end job, living a dead-end life.
Lost in these morose thoughts he didn't see the white guy until he was standing right in front of the desk. The truly, very white guy in khaki Bermuda shorts and a terribly obnoxious green and orange Hawaiian shirt. Though it was the middle of the night—and Darian knew this in particular because he was the night manager of this poor excuse for a hotel/casino so far off the strip he couldn't even remember which direction the strip lay—the white guy was wearing a pair of very dark sunglasses. He had no luggage, just small leather case tucked casually under one arm.
"Welcome to the Paradisio, sir. Will you be wanting a room?"
"Yes, I think I will,” the stranger replied with a tight smile. “Your best."
"I'll need your credit card, sir."
"I don't believe in credit cards, kid. Take it from me, they're pure evil.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out the fattest wad of cash Darian had ever seen, even here in Vegas. He peeled off ten one hundred dollar bills and pushed them across the counter. “I think this will cover me adequately for a while, don't you?"
"Uh ... yessir.” Darian took the bills and put them in the cash drawer. “With that much you could stay at any hotel on the strip,” he murmured, disbelievingly, as the wad vanished back into the man's pocket.
"I don't think I'm ready for the strip yet,” the white guy said conversationally, leaning against the desk and lifting his sunglasses as he regarded Julian with strange violet eyes. “Or, rather, maybe I should say the strip's not yet ready for me."
His smile creaked open a little wider. “So, kid, how'd you like to own this town?"
"I'm afraid my dreams aren't quite that big, sir,” Darian said with a nervous chuckle. Is this guy whacked, or what?
"No such thing as too big a dream. There are those who dream too small, but no one dreams too big. That's always been your problem, Darian. You've dreamed too small."
"Maybe so, sir. Care to sign your name in the register?"
"Go ahead and write it in for me, kid. The name's Dave. Just Dave."
Meet Saje Williams
Besides having a standard writer's resume, which includes a little of just about everything, Saje grew up a construction brat. That's a lot like being a military brat without the chance to go to anywhere more exotic than Sacramento. Saje currently lives in Washington State with his wife, two cats, an assortment of dogs, and a python named Baal.
VISIT OUR WEBSITE
FOR THE FULL INVENTORY
OF QUALITY BOOKS:
www.wings-press.com
Quality trade paperbacks and downloads
in multiple formats,
in genres ranging from light romantic comedy to general fiction and horror. Wings has something
for every reader's taste.
Visit the website, then bookmark it.
We add new titles each month!
* * *
Visit www.wings-press.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
Of Man and Monster Page 25
