by Ross, P. A.
“You have three women on your trail,” I said, knowing her earpiece would receive the message.
“I used to be a singer in a band called the Leeches,” Thorn suddenly said to her victim.
“Really,” he replied.
This was one of our codes to say we received the message. Good, I knew she would be prepared. She would have probably detected them anyway and unlikely to be in any trouble, but it allowed me to play my part as her protector.
The gang of girls walked as quickly as their tight skirts would let them down the dark alleyway, with their high heels splashing through the shallow puddles on the ground. One of them grabbed a bit of broken wood from the side of the alley and held it like a club as they moved in. I waited for Thorn to signal me for help but she didn’t. Thorn and her victim stopped kissing as they detected the girls approaching.
“That’s my boyfriend; you leave him alone,” a chubby blonde girl snapped.
Her dyed blonde hair scraped back tight over her head into a ponytail, and her face plastered in makeup. Her dress too tight for her size and the fat pushed out at the seams of the fabric. She looked horrible and scary in a different way than I was now used to.
“He is a grown boy; I am sure he can make his own choices,” Thorn replied, with no sign of emotion.
“I wasn’t doing anything, Michelle I promise,” the man pleaded with her.
Thorn let go of his arm, and he walked over to Michelle. She slapped backhanded across his face. Her gold sovereign rings cut his mouth leaving his face red and his body shaking.
“Get out of here now you prick and go home,” she screamed into his face.
He recoiled, holding his bruised jaw, and he looked at Thorn apologetically.
“Sorry,” he said, and received another smack on the back of his head as he walked away making him stumble forward. He walked back to the nightclub and saw me laughing to myself.
Behind him, the girls had surrounded Thorn.
“Going to teach you a lesson, little Miss Perfect. After I am finished with you, no bloke will want you,” Michelle said sneering and her friend slapping the broken wood into her own hand.
I looked forward to watching this but the scolded boyfriend approached and he looked angrily at me.
“What you laughing at?” he said.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he said, face red from the slap and wanting to regain some pride.
He pushed me back into the wall. I pushed myself off it and shoved back making him stagger backwards. He charged in and swung a fist. My instincts took over, I ducked, and rugby-tackled him to the floor and rolled off back onto my feet. I was scared and reacting from instinct. I tried to let my anger pour through me by thinking about the mugging but I didn’t have time and he returned to his feet and punched at me again. I put my hands over my head, absorbed a couple of blows and then fired one back into his chin making him step back. I followed up with a couple more, which he stepped back from and then he caught my square on the chin with a punch. I dropped to the floor. He stood over me ready to follow up, when Thorn appeared in front of him and launched him off his feet into the alleyway wall.
Back down the alley, the three girls were rolling on the floor in pain, covering their clothes in grime and rain. Thorn had cut open the man’s arm and crouched over him like a predator feeding on their kill. Yet another normal night when hunting with Thorn, as I often got embroiled into the fights. I got the impression it was part of my training plan.
CHAPTER 13
It had been six weeks since joining forces with Thorn, and my day and night lives were becoming acutely distinct. The days filled with plans of what could happen if I left and the new life I could lead. Maybe Scarlett and I could forgive each other. I could work for the government and let them test me in return for safety. I revisited those old daydreams of living with Scarlett and the normal things we would do as a normal couple. I wished I could be back on that sofa snuggled up watching a film together. In the meantime, during the day, I collected more money and stored it in the bag in the freezer. I practised the route home and investigated getting a UV lamp. During the rest of the day, I continued with my training, building my skills and muscles.
The night was all about time with Thorn; training, fighting, feeding, dancing and passion. I would be scared as the night came, and then sad to see it go as I enjoyed being with Thorn and the excitement it brought. In the daytime, I would be happy to be myself, with my own thoughts and desires. Not having to fill my thoughts so Thorn couldn’t read my feelings. However, recently I had to do this less and less, as at night thoughts of escape and Scarlett never returned. At night, I only thought about Thorn and revenge on Barry. I had become two different people, Day Jonathan and Night Jonathan. Day wanted it to all end and find a way back home to Scarlett. Night wanted it never to end. Night enjoyed the violence, sex and training, and looked forward to the final revenge on Barry, and expanding out into the rest of the vampire world.
That day had special significance, as I knew it was the day of the kidnapping trial in Leeds against the three O’Keefe brothers. I should have been there giving evidence against them, and if convicted it would have probably stopped Giles’ Mum’s case for dangerous driving. I hoped they would still get a conviction even though my evidence was critical having been the only eyewitness to all of the events on that day, and the events of the previous ten years of bullying as well. The killing of the gang and rescuing Thorn had meant I couldn’t attend. I decided I would check the Internet later for any news.
Night descended, and I became Night Jonathan. Thorn and I sat in the car outside a nightclub back across London in the area I went to college, looking and waiting for Barry, as we knew he frequented it. The alternative nightclub played pretty much anything except pop music, and the clientele consisted of a raw cross section of people and music types from the surrounding areas. The nightclub was called, “Excite”; green fluorescent letters curled and glowed out in the dark, above two worn blue doors with the paint peeling off. I sat in the passenger’s seat of Thorn’s black BMW, tinted windows, leather seats, aircon and all the top of the range trimmings. The car sat across the other side of the road, in the shadows about twenty meters away. Other cars had parked all around us on this side of the street, and the other side remained empty. I had sat watching the door for over an hour and was getting bored. I wanted to go inside and search for him but Thorn advised not to, as Hunters would be looking for us. I asked Thorn about the Hunters days after her escape and their attempt to stop us. Thorn explained they had captured her and they were an organisation hunting down and killing vampires normally but things had changed recently as they now seemed involved with government. If we were looking for Barry, they were probably watching him in the hope we would return.
I shifted in my seat and felt the cold metal of my gun in my hand, a Browning nine millimetre High Powered Semi-Automatic Pistol. Thorn’s training had recently gone beyond hand-to-hand. Thorn had been training me in Thai boxing, as it resembled the vampire martial art style of fighting. Thai boxing is known as the science of the eight limbs, and the vampire style is similar by adding in the razor sharp claws and fangs of a vampire. It is a direct style of fighting with the purpose of taking the opposition down, nothing fancy, just a clean direct kill. We moved on to fighting with small blades, to mimic the claws of a vampire, so I would be prepared for whenever I made the changes through the needles. The plan eventually would progress onto swords, and she had a couple Japanese Katana swords for us to practice with once I had mastered the small blades. Only yesterday, we moved on to guns. Thorn didn’t like guns as vampires fought better up close using their superior speed and strength. In a gunfight, the battlefield levelled out between humans and vampires but I wasn’t a vampire yet and a gun would allow me to protect her and myself. In the basement of her house, a weapons rack remained hidden behind one of the walls with the picture of the werewolf and vampire fighting. A button under the bed slid t
he wall back revealing a rack of swords, knives, throwing stars, machine guns and pistols. From this rack, she had chosen the browning pistol for me and loaded it up, and then we drove to a deserted warehouse to practice using tin cans on an upturned box. It felt like an old western shooting tin cans but it did the trick. I learnt quickly with Thorn’s guidance, and her psychic abilities pushing in the right images and feelings into my head. The Hunters had machine guns and knives, and I needed to know how to fire back to defend myself and protect Thorn, especially during the daylight hours.
The music played from the car stereo gently in the background to break up the monotony of waiting and watching. Thorn shifted in her seat and her tight denim jeans rubbed against the leather. She stretched her feet in her red leather knee-high boots and adjusted her short black leather jacket with red strips down the arms, underneath which she wore a black vest. I continued getting bored and restless in the car, while Thorn remained patient and focused her senses at the nightclub and her surroundings. I guessed that patience and focus came with age. Yet I didn’t know how old Thorn was but on a couple of occasions, she mentioned events from history and I had tried to work it out. She had mentioned the hundred years war, which made her at least seven hundred years old but I think she went back even further. She continued to be tight lipped about her history.
I tried to break the silence and relax us for a second.
“Thorn, what do you call an asthmatic vampire?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she responded seriously.
“Vlad the inhaler,” I answered, giving a slight laugh to indicate it was a joke.
Thorn looked over and frowned.
“No more jokes,” she said.
We went back to sitting in silence waiting for something to happen.
People came and went from the nightclub but no one I recognised. People pushed open the two blue doors and stumbled out into the dark night. The florescent sign offered some light around the entrance and tainted those coming and going in its glow. Groups of people walked into the nightclub dressed up in gothic clothes and a few girls in nightclub small skirts and tops. Two girls walked out of the blue nightclub doors and the music followed them breaking into the quiet night outside. Their hair dark, one short bobbed, and the other long and wavy, and they both dressed in a rock chick style. The shorthaired girl wore jeans, black boots and white t-shirt showing under her red leather jacket. Her face heavily made up with black eyeliner and a pirate skull nose stud and ears pierced with three crucifixes in each ear. It took a moment to break out the features from the clothes she wore but it was unmistakably Mary. She obviously found a new friend, as that couldn’t be Scarlett; the hair colour was wrong. The woman with the long dark wavy hair stumbled slightly as she lost control of her feet encased in heavy purple platform boots, her hair sweeping around concealing her face, and her friend grabbed her by her black leather jacket and pulled her up straight. They both giggled and staggered off. Above her boots, fishnet stockings led to a denim skirt and on her top, under the jacket, she wore a low-cut red shirt. She swished her hair out of her face showing heavy makeup, creating black patches around her eyes and black full lips. Her ears decorated with ascending gold hoops and a gold chain around her pale neck. She looked vaguely familiar. They giggled as they staggered down the street when a rough looking guy wearing dirty denim burst out looking worse for wear. He was quite tall and sported a grubby goatee. He staggered about a bit looking up and down the streets when he saw the two girls walking off.
“Scarlett, come back!”
She turned around, and her long wavy hair swished in the half-light of the cold winter’s air. I recognised the way the hair moved, and I knew it was definitely Scarlett. However, this wasn’t my Scarlett as I remembered her, she had changed beyond recognition into something else, or someone else. I didn’t even think about what to do next, as soon as I recognised her I clambered out of the car, slammed the door and walked over to her.
“Have another drink; come on, you owe me,” the rough guy shouted.
“Get lost,” Scarlett shouted and turned back around to start walking off, when she saw me marching across the road to her. I was dressed for comfort that night in jeans, black hooded top and trainers. My hair had been trimmed right back into a stylish short cut, with spikes gelled up in places. She took a moment to recognise me, same for her I guessed, out of context situation and a different look. My determined walk over had made her pay attention and focus, and finally the penny dropped.
“Jon,” she said, arms flung out.
I ran the last bit into her arms and hugged her tight. I didn’t know why I did this after everything that had happened. Maybe instinct took over, as I was happy to see her after everything I had been through. Maybe due to her intoxication, she appeared happy to see me as well. As I hugged her, I heard fast footsteps approaching from behind, and I realised what I enormous mistake I had just made. I let go and stood back to look at Scarlett properly and took in her new look.
“You changed,” I said admiring the black makeup, piercings and newly dyed hair.
Scarlett looked at me; her eyebrows rose.
“Look who’s talking,” she responded eyeing me up and down, then looking at my side as Thorn’s hand grabbed my hand and squashed it under her firm grasp. I grimaced, trying not to let the pain show.
I dreaded what might happen next, and I looked around at Thorn and offered an apologetic smile. Her face cool and calm but I could sense seething anger beneath the surface.
“What happened to you?” Scarlett asked, looking suspiciously at Thorn.
“You know stuff happens; you have to deal with it,” I answered, and regretted getting out of the car.
“It’s all true then, what the news has been saying about you and her,” Scarlett said, pointedly looking at Thorn.
I realised her comments referred to the news of the gang murders, and the drug dealers Thorn killed on her first night and few other minor incidents. I didn’t know how to answer the question and luckily, I didn’t have to, as the drunken tall rough looking guy had continued stumbling towards us. He grabbed Scarlett’s arm and wretched it backwards.
“She is with me kid; now get lost,” he said pulling on her arm.
Before I had time to react, Thorn stepped across and kicked him in the groin. There was nothing like a man attacking a woman to incense Thorn, and she was already boiling with anger. He dropped to the floor and onto one knee, and looked back up as Thorn followed up with a right hook bang on the jaw. His head snapped around fast, and he skidded down the pavement from the force of the blow, leaving a trail of blood coming from his face as it acted as a brake on the rough pavement.
Thorn turned around to glare at Scarlett and me, and then she looked straight past us into the dark.
“Hunters,” she shouted and pushed us all to the ground as shots rang over our heads.
“Go into the club and find a way out the back; I will meet you there,” Thorn shouted as the shots continued.
I pulled out my gun and fired randomly into the dark, and it seemed to be enough to allow Thorn to run for cover behind the row of cars. I grabbed Scarlett and Mary, and pushed them back towards the front door as the bullets smashed into the brickwork about us, spattering us with dust. I fired again and again in the vain hope it helped, as two men in black suits ran towards us pistols firing. Scarlett and Mary bundled through the front door and crashed to the floor. I followed on not far behind when a pain ripped through my lower leg as a bullet dissected the flesh of my right calf muscle. I lost my balance and went crashing through the door then into Scarlett and Mary creating a heap on the floor.
The bouncers approached, and I turned the gun up and around to them quickly.
“Back off; I just want the exit,” I shouted, and they raised their hands and moved backwards.
Scarlett and Mary help me to my feet, and I hobbled as quickly as possible into the club. All the time I kept the gun pointed at the bouncers and forced th
em to stay in the entrance hall. Inside the nightclub, the circular dance floor in the middle overflowed with people jumping up and down, and head banging to some thrash metal band. We pushed past the other revellers around the sides of the dance floor, and those queuing at the bar shouting for drinks. A few people looked around and then saw the gun in my hand and backed off sharply in panic. The music banged aloud, the red, blue and green lights flashed into my eyes, and intense pain overwhelmed my leg. I pushed through the pain using my anger and fear to drive myself forward, just as Thorn had taught me. Mary knew the club well and directed us through the throng of people to the back fire door and out onto a small fire stair well used by the revellers for smoking. The people outside moved quickly out of the way in panic upon seeing the gun and the blood on my leg. The top of the stairs had a small landing area connected to the back door of the nightclub, and the stairs went down one flight into a small car park at the back where the staff parked. There was a gate on the back of the car park stopping non-paying guests from sneaking in the back way.
I felt cold. The smell of cigarettes still permutated the air and I coughed on the cigarette smoke as we walked out onto the stairwell.
“You two need a moment. I will keep an eye out,” Mary said, and walked back inside.
I leaned against the wall taking the weight off my shot leg, and as the blood poured out, I hoped Thorn wouldn’t take too long. I should probably get some first aid training as well.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Scarlett asked, looking at my gun in disbelief.
“I can’t explain; it isn’t safe to know,” I answered, trying to focus through the pain.
“People came to question me after the incident in the park. They told me to tell you, if I ever saw you again, it’s not too late; they will understand. They will look after you. You can have your life back. It’s the woman they want and a formula,” Scarlett said.
