The Tome of Bill Series: Books 1-4 (Bill The Vampire, Scary Dead Things, The Mourning Woods, Holier Than Thou)

by Rick Gualtieri

  I had to admit, now that the wooziness had started to clear, I didn't feel half bad. Had I not remembered what had occurred, I’d have never guessed my neck had been chewed out recently. Hell, forget that, I was actually starting to feel pretty goddamn excellent.

  I could likewise feel myself coming to. My eyes were just on the verge of fluttering open when the screaming started. Loud screaming – too loud, as if someone were yelling into a megaphone cranked to eleven.

  I raised my hands – hey, they worked again – to my ears, when suddenly the scream became a choked gurgle. Almost immediately afterward came a WHOOOSH noise, followed by a brief wall of heat washing over me.

  “What the fuck,” I stammered as I opened my eyes. It came out a bit slurred thanks to my newly elongated canines. Guess that solved the mystery of what cut my tongue earlier.

  Before I could do much more, powerful hands grabbed hold of my jacket and hauled me to my feet. That did it. I was finally fully awake. Blinking so as to clear my vision, I took a quick inventory of my surroundings and realized that I had been backed up against one of the walls. Sally was standing next to me, holding my arm in a grip that belied the fact that she was a fraction of my size. Another muscled douche was on my other side doing the same. It was then that Jeff's voice caught my attention.

  “Not bad, Starlight, but you lose two points for the screaming. That was really fucking annoying.” Several other voices, presumably vampires as well, chuckled and expressed their agreement. I craned my head to see what was going on. What I beheld did not exactly improve my mood.

  I was in a lineup of sorts. Most (most!) of the guys that had been singled out with me were likewise being held in place. They were all covered in blood (I hadn't quite built up the courage to look down at myself yet) and appeared to be in different stages of waking from what I assumed was the same dying-like experience I’d just gone through. Jeff was standing at the far end of the line, addressing a dark-skinned brunette (Brown sugar ... how come you taste so good?) who was giving him a pouty look in return.

  Oh, yeah, there were two other quick things I couldn’t help but notice: Jeff was holding what looked like a sawed off, sharpened baseball bat and, secondly, there was a smoking pile of ash next to the babe. I don't think one needed to own the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Blu-ray (it was a gift) to figure out what had just happened.

  “No way!” whined the brunette. “That's not fair, Night Razor.” Night Razor?! “How was I supposed to know he was going to completely freak?”

  “What was that, Starlight?” Jeff, or Night Razor, or maybe Douche Razor, asked in a clear warning tone.

  “Nothing ... my lord,” the girl, Starlight I presumed, meekly replied.

  That seemed to satisfy Jeffy-boy as he moved to the next person in line. His presence seemed to snap the accountant lookalike out of his funk.

  “What are you?” he mewled. “Please, I won't tell anybody. Just let me go.”

  Jeff smirked at his pleas and started to raise the makeshift stake.

  “I have money!”

  “Hold him.”

  The poor dude lost it. He started screaming, “OH GOD! PLEASE! ONE OF YOU, PLEASE HELP ME!”

  Jeff's arms were extended, and the stake was pointed straight at the accountant's stringy chest.

  “PLEASE! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!”

  Jeff quietly answered, “Then you shouldn't be at a party like this,” and brought the stake straight down into his helpless victim's ribcage. The accountant made a strangled noise, but it was cut short. There was a flash, and his body self-immolated from the inside out.

  Holy shit! It's one thing to see it happen in a low budget movie, but to witness it in real life ... well, it's a little hard to grasp. I mean, people don't normally do that.

  I was still gawking when Jeff started speaking to the accountant's redheaded companion. “Pretty good. Two points off for the whining, but I'll give you one back for the wife and kid thing. That one always makes me smile.” By the time he finished the sentence, all that was left of her “date” was a pair of eyeglasses sitting atop another pile of ash. Once again, he moved down the line.

  By now, every one of my recently deceased companions had regained their senses and were doing some combination of begging or crying, except for one portly fellow who seemed to be in denial and was chanting over and over, “Not happening. Not happening.”

  I was last in line and, seeing how much good begging did the last guy, I decided to use my few remaining minutes to try and figure a way out of this death trap, or un-death trap, as it were.

  I scanned the room, trying to take in any useful details. The rest of the partygoers were off to the side, giving Jeff their full attention and cheering him on.

  Wait, not all of them. In the far back, I saw one fellow leaning against the wall. He had light brown hair and was of slimmer build than Jeff, although he still looked like he could have walked straight out of an LL Bean catalog. He was busy picking his nails and otherwise looking bored. Sensing me staring, he looked up and we locked eyes. He grinned and gave me a shrug before going back to the far more important business of making sure he didn't have any dirt under his pretty little fingernails. Asshole! Okay, no help there, and a quick whoosh of heat told me Jeff was getting closer.

  This was not good. I was trapped, alone, dead and, judging by the idiotic ratings that were being handed out, the unlucky guest of a supernatural pig party. What a fucking weekend, and it was only half over.

  Okay okay, I needed to stop feeling sorry for my somewhat oddly terrifying predicament, and get my head back into the game ... the game of saving my own ass.

  It was time for me to pay attention again. There were windows in the place, but a quick look confirmed they all appeared to be painted black. No one was going to be watching. The music was pretty loud. Besides which, if the original screamer didn't attract outside attention, I doubt I would do much better. And besides, who was I kidding? In the middle of the city on a Saturday night, would anyone even think twice if they heard a loud yell? In short, none of it looked good, and my two captors were still holding me in an iron grip with their unearthly, undead strength.

  Wait a second ... unearthly, undead strength?

  Sometimes I am such a fucking idiot. These dipshits were super strong vampires. I was now a vampire, too. Thus, as a newly minted deadly predator of the fucking night, shouldn't I have access to the same powers? Thank you very much, circular logic.

  I gave my muscles a quick flex to test that theory and, sure enough, they definitely felt stronger. Okay, that probably didn’t mean much. Kind of like how someone who just started working out will swear they can see results. Tom went through that phase a couple of years back. He had been dating this chick who was into fitness. For an entire month – oddly enough, the full length of the relationship – she managed to drag him to the gym with her. For that same month, the rest of us had to put up with him flexing his non-existent (to everyone but him) muscles, like he had stepped out of Pumping Iron. But still, delusions or not, I felt stronger, much stronger, and, even if that was nothing more than bullshit, it was all I had to go on at the moment.

  I waited until Jeff was staking the guy next to me. Sorry dude, but if only one of us was going to get out of here in something other than a dustpan, I'd prefer it be me. He ashed the poor guy and then turned to the cheering crowd to give his judgment. At that moment, I stomped down hard on Sally's foot. Okay, so it wasn't the manliest thing in the world to do, but, considering the circumstances, I figured the other side had already thrown the rules of fair fighting out the window.

  She squealed in pain and loosened her grip enough for me to wrench my arm free. Before anyone could react, I balled my free hand into a fist and sent it crashing into the face of the asshole holding my other arm. To both of our surprise, it actually worked, and he went flying back with a grunt. Holy crap, I was a genuine badass.

  Unfortunately, that was probably the w
rong time to mentally pat myself on the back. The whole scenario played out in just a few seconds but, by the time I turned to run, Jeff had already stepped over to block me.

  “Cute.” He smirked, looking to either side of me. “... but playtime is over.”

  Fortunately, I didn't agree. Before he could advance on me, I crouched down and launched myself effortlessly over his head.

  At least that's how it played out in my mind.

  In actuality, my legs were up to the task, sharing the same unholy strength as my arms, but there was one teeny little problem. In my rush to escape (and look cool doing so) I kind of didn't bother to notice that the ceiling wasn't exactly high enough for that sort of move. So what actually happened is I launched myself vertically about two feet until my head crunched into plaster and then came down to land in a heap at Jeff's feet along with a good chunk of ceiling. Spider-Man, I was not.

  I looked up to find the crowd staring at me incredulously. Perhaps they were all in awe. Probably not, but hey, we all have our own personal delusions. Anyway, for a moment, all was silent, but then a loud chuckle erupted from the back of the room, snapping me out of my daze. Figuring it had worked well a few moments ago, I launched my fist at Jeff as I rose. I was strong and fast. I could do it.

  Or not. As it turned out, he was stronger and faster.

  He caught my fist with his hand. Whatever grip Sally and the other vampire had on me earlier were an absolute joke compared to him. It was like sticking my hand in a fucking vise. He started to squeeze and I could feel my bones begin to bend. Putting on a maniacal grin, he continued to increase the pressure until I was forced to my knees.

  “I told you (squeeze) you're nothing but cattle (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) doesn't (squeeze) fight back (squeeze). Cattle (squeeze) just go (squeeze) quietly (squeeze) to (squeeze) the (squeeze) SLAUGHTER!” Squeeze ... crack ... ow! He sneered down at me. “You have the nerve to think you're now our equal, but you are not one of – UGH!”

  Just for the record, should you ever find yourself in a similar scenario, the middle of a monologue is the perfect time to send a fist smashing into the bad guy's crotch. Jeff simultaneously released my hand and doubled over in pain as another loud laugh, from the same voice as earlier, rang out from the far end of the room. Oh, yeah, I was comedy gold.

  As he sank to my level, I looked him in the eye and quipped, “I am the terror that flaps in the night, motherfucker!” Yeah, it sounded a lot cooler in my head than out loud, but in a stressful situation, you took whatever you could get.

  I shoved the asshole to the side and made a break for it before the crowd could react. There were too many vamps off to the right, where the door was, so I made a dash straight ahead.

  The only one standing in my way from that direction was the LL Bean model. As I approached, he smiled at me and stepped aside with a quick bow and an “after you” gesture. I distinctly heard him whisper, “Good luck, Darkwing Duck,” as I passed.

  Since the door was out of the question, that left only the window. Normally, diving off the third floor of a building might have given me pause, seeing how there's that whole dying in a messy splatter thing at the end. But that was before. Now I was beyond death. Nothing could stop me. I would swoop out the window on wings of darkness. I would become insubstantial like the wind. I would...

  CRASH!

  I would realize that flying was apparently not one of my new powers. Goddamn it. Once more, Hollywood had lied to me. I had just enough time to think Fuck SoHo before I slammed into the sidewalk below and all went black.

  It Sucks To Be a Vampire

  I was only out for a few moments, or at least I thought so. Maybe I couldn’t fly, but my new vampire body was, fortunately, a whole lot tougher than my old living one. I don't know about you, but trading a pulse for the ability to shake off a thirty-foot face plant onto concrete didn’t sound like too bad a deal to me.

  Unfortunately, those few moments of blissful unconsciousness were enough to erase any lead I’d built up. I had only a second or two to notice I’d landed in an alley behind the building, and apparently not woken any of the neighbors in doing so, when rough hands grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around. Jeff's extremely angry-looking face was right there, and then it wasn't as I doubled over from the force of his fist impacting my stomach.

  More hands dragged me to my feet. “This time, hold him.” Jeff raised the stake. The fall and the punch had taken the fight out of me. Realizing there was no way to break free in time to avoid becoming ashtray remnants, I did the only thing I could think of – closed my eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt much.

  “Wait!” a voice from above cried out. When no sensation of impalement came, I chanced opening my eyes a bit.

  Jeff was frozen in place, a vein throbbing in his forehead. How did he do that with no heartbeat? He slowly lowered the stake and looked up. I lifted my head to follow his gaze and saw LL Bean leaning out the window.

  “What?!” Jeff shouted to him.

  “Bring him back up,” answered my well-groomed benefactor.

  “This is none of your concern, Ozymandias.”

  “I'm making it my concern. Now, do as I say and bring him up.”

  I had no idea what was going on but, in this pissing contest, the one called Ozymandias apparently had the bigger dick because Jeff backed down following the exchange. He lowered the stake and addressed the two thugs holding me.

  “Do as he says.” He glared at me and whispered in a barely audible voice, “This is not over.”

  Okay, so I was batting about five hundred. I wasn't a pile of dust, but I was far from being free. Still, any reprieve from the reaper was a welcome one and also meant that another opportunity to escape might present itself.

  The goons dragged me, none too gently either, through a back door and up the stairs. I'm not a svelte fellow to begin with, and I wasn't exactly being super helpful toward their effort. Nevertheless, I seemed to inconvenience them little more than a bag of groceries might. We quickly made it back to the loft where I was dragged to the center of the apartment and tossed unceremoniously onto the floor.

  I looked up to find LL Bean/Ozymandias standing over me with the same bemused grin he’d worn just before I did my best impression of Greg Louganis diving onto solid concrete. Jeff came charging in the door a few moments later, looking slightly less than overjoyed. Oddly enough, despite the fact that my opinion of his douchebaggyness was growing by the minute, I found my mood closer to matching his. It was hard to enjoy even my momentary reprieve, mainly because I had no freaking clue what Ozymandias's game was. He might’ve been saving my ass, but it was rapidly becoming obvious that Jeff’s annoyance was his amusement. For all I knew, he just wanted to kill me himself for no other reason than to tick Jeff off.

  I gained my footing just as Jeff got into Ozymandias's face. “What's your game? I gave you a chance earlier to take your pick. You declined. That means you let us finish the ceremony by our rules.”

  In this, at least Ozymandias and I were of the same mind, as we both blurted out, “Ceremony?”

  Despite our mutual reply, Jeff ignored me. “You know what I mean. We bring them, bite them, judge them, then dust them. Those are the rules I created for this. Don't forget, this is my coven.”

  I should’ve known better in situations like these – not that I've been in too many – to keep my mouth shut, but I didn’t. “Excuse me, but aren't covens for witches?”

  Jeff gave me a look that said he wanted to punt me into next week, but Ozymandias kept grinning and answered in a casual tone as if we were discussing the weather. “Who do you think they stole the idea from?”

  Jeff ignored this exchange and continued as if I hadn't spoken. “You seem to forget where you are. I rule this coven.”

  Ozymandias immediately lost his casual tone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees. “And you forget your place. You rule this one little coven. I oversee all the covens for this region. You're un
der my jurisdiction.”