Spirit Sanguine

by Lou Harper

  Dedication

  I want to thank my friend Jo, aka Vile Temptress, for her support, honest opinions, and endless supply of plot-bunny feed. I’m also beholden to my editor, Linda, for kicking my manuscript into shape. This story wouldn’t be what it is without the feedbacks and comments of Cleon, Blaine, Susan, L.C., Kari, Edmond from the MM Critique Group. Thanks to Josh Lanyon for creating such a forum.

  Seeing Red

  Chapter One

  It was Gabe’s thirteenth straight perfect summer night in Chicago since he’d arrived back from Budapest. He left his cheap hotel in Rogers Park and headed downtown. The air was as smooth as fine red wine, and the moon hung in the sky like a fat lump of Camembert. It felt strange being back home after all those years. The city was essentially the same as he’d left it, but he’d changed and no longer fit in. The odd sensation of being a stranger in his hometown made him restless.

  As it was Friday night, the streets of River North were teeming with tourists and locals. Gabe popped in and out of bars, not staying long anywhere. He had a few beers, but it would’ve taken something stronger than alcohol to fill the void inside him. He stalked the streets at night because he didn’t know what else to do. Coming home had been a logical and necessary step, but he had no idea what came next. To make things worse, he hadn’t gotten laid for far too long. Not that there was a shortage of willing bodies. Gabe knew he didn’t stand out in a crowd, but he had no problem attracting guys, especially ones who liked a bit of rough trade. Dark-haired and sturdy, he had the physique and air of a man who could give that to them. So there were plenty of interested men, just none of them “lit his fire”. Truth be told, he was in the granddaddy of all funks.

  Gabe would never in a million years have expected to find someone to answer all his yearnings at once. The young man who bumped into him in the crowded bar murmured hasty apologies and walked away. As collisions went, it seemed as innocuous as the first contact between the Titanic and the errant iceberg, yet at the moment of contact, Gabe’s heart hurled itself at his rib cage, sensing the impending disaster. As they parted, he stared after the other figure: short, slender, dark-haired and undead. A killer combo. It was unfair; the most fuckable ass he’d come across in who knew how long, and it belonged to a vampire.

  Gabe had a sixth sense for these things, quite literally. In the proximity of a vampire, his skin prickled and the short hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. At the same time, an invisible compass in his brain zeroed in on the creature. Oddly, in this instance the sensation was as faint as the brush of a spider web, yet still unmistakable. To clinch it, Mr. Killer Buns was several degrees too cool to the touch.

  Finding and slaying vampires was Gabe’s special skill, one might even say calling, although he’d been having second thoughts about that as of late. The current situation was most disturbing; thoughts of sex and vampires had never before occupied his brain at the same time. The undead he and his uncle had been hunting across Europe for the past several years hadn’t inspired such notions. They’d been a revolting bunch that without fail had tried to rip out his throat. Not one of them had worn tight jeans showing off shapely buttocks.

  “The only good vampire is a dead vampire,” Uncle Miklos used to say. So Gabe sent the carnal thoughts packing and concentrated on the task ahead. It had to be done. Pity.

  When his mark left the bar, Gabe followed at a prudent distance all the way to the El station. Since he saw no trains coming, Gabe waited a minute before walking up to the platform. He spotted his target at the far end, so he stayed back. It wasn’t yet time to make his move. He was going to follow the vamp back to its nest where there might be more of its kind. Minutes ticked by. Gabe took a few casual glances at the creature. It seemed oblivious, chatting on a cell phone. Gabe wondered who was on the other end of the line. The bloodsuckers he’d had experience with were neither particularly social nor technologically savvy.

  The train finally arrived, and they got on. A good twenty minutes later when the vampire got off, Gabe followed, waiting till the last minute to jump off. The vamp had already walked down the stairs and out of sight, but Gabe could still feel its presence. He tracked it on deserted, dimly lit streets. He tugged down the zipper of his leather jacket and slipped his hand inside. Three wooden stakes sat on each side in their custom-designed holders. Old habits died hard.

  Gabe caught a movement in the shadows from the corner of his eye, but it didn’t alarm him much—the only undead in the area was half a block ahead. The sudden sharp sting in his posterior took him completely by surprise. After a moment of confusion, he yanked the dart out and stared at it. Why would somebody shoot him with a dart? As his knees turned to jelly and the world faded away, he understood he’d probably made the last mistake of his life.

  Gabe came to in an empty, windowless room, lit by a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The mold-stained walls amplified the low-budget-horror-flick ambiance. The one thing out of synch was the bloodsucker crouched in front of him—it looked at him with concern morphing into relief as Gabe clawed his way back to consciousness. Now that he got a closer look at it, the vampire proved to be even more intriguing; its features were an appealing fusion of Asian and Caucasian. The eyes staring at Gabe were brown around the iris, blending into green. It was, without question, the most attractive vampire Gabe had ever seen. But that wasn’t saying much.

  Gabe knelt on the cold concrete floor, propped against the wall in an uncomfortable position, but when he tried to move, he realized he was expertly bound—ankles together, hands behind his back, and all tied together, so he couldn’t even stand up.

  “You’re a slayer, right?” the vampire asked, more curious than accusatory.

  Gabe had no intention of giving in that easy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was walking home when you kidnapped me. It’s a federal crime, you know.”

  “And you simply happened to have six very sharp wooden sticks on you. Or were you just happy to see me?”

  For the first time ever, Gabe witnessed a vampire smirk. It perturbed him more than a vicious scowl would’ve. Looking down, he also became aware of not wearing his jacket anymore. Well, the gig was up. Still, he wasn’t going to make this any easier for the bastard; he clamped his jaws together and said nothing.

  The vampire sighed. “Don’t be a grumpy pants. Let’s say we agree you’re a slayer.”

  “And you’re a soulless bloodsucker.” Gabe produced a scowl appropriate for the circumstances, but he started to get a strange feeling that they weren’t working from the same script.

  The vampire wasn’t bothered. “Sticks and stones. Tell me, where did you come from? You’re new here, right? We haven’t had a slayer around here in ages. What brought you here now?” It looked at Gabe as if he were the Easter Bunny.

  Gabe figured it made no difference, but he might as well make up some pretty lies. “Fine, you got me. My buddies and I are new in town. I was supposed to meet them. They’re probably looking for me.”

  The vampire cocked its head sideways and studied him for a second. “Nah. You’re lying.”

  Gabe shrugged as much as the ropes allowed. “Maybe. Or maybe not.”

  The vampire chewed on its fingernails while studying Gabe silently some more. “You’re a pain in the ass,” it said.

  Gabe stared back in his best Bruce Willis impression, but inside he felt flummoxed. He’d been insulted by vampires before but never so benignly. Threats of getting ripped from limb to limb were more along the line of what he’d been expecting. This was a strange fucking night.

  The vampire leaned forward and put a hand over Gabe’s heart. Its eyelids drifted closed, and its curvy lips parted slightly, as if in a trance, creating a positively sensuous pictur
e. It almost made Gabe regret what he was about to do. Almost. Putting all his strength and weight into it, he launch himself forward and head-butted the vampire. Having been knocked back on its pretty ass, it looked startled for a nanosecond, but then in a flash it was in Gabe’s face, fangs bared, eyes burning with amber fury. It put a hand around Gabe’s throat and squeezed while sliding its other hand under Gabe’s shirt, fingers digging into naked skin.

  “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t disembowel you?” the vampire hissed.

  Thanks to the hand crushing his larynx, Gabe could only make faint gurgling sounds. The vampire looked properly scary then, with its furious glare and flaring nostrils. And disturbingly hot too. Gabe’s vision filled with black spots, but before he could pass out, the vamp let him go and stood. Gabe greedily gulped for air while his attacker loomed above, visibly trying to regain self-control.

  “You’re just a big bully, aren’t you?” the vampire snarled.

  “Me, bully? That’s rich,” Gabe croaked.

  “Yes, a bully who likes pushing around the little guy—you know, the Chink, the fag, the soulless bloodsucker. You’re all the same.”

  The outburst had Gabe bewildered—he was the same as what? He didn’t get to find out, as a knock came from the direction of the door. The vamp went and opened it a crack. Gabe detected a whispered conversation but couldn’t make out the words. A minute later, the vampire turned and walked back, holding a hand behind its back. Gabe could do nothing to block the needle when it jabbed into his neck.

  The next time Gabe opened his eyes, he was in a cheap roadside motel. The note pinned to his chest urged him to “Stay the fuck out of Dodge”—a piece of advice he had no intention of heeding. His jacket was gone, but his courteous assailants had left him his wallet. As soon as Gabe shook the grogginess from his head, and figured out he was in Libertyville, about forty miles outside of Chicago, he took the first bus back. He bristled with annoyance and embarrassment on the whole way there.

  As soon as he arrived, he began the hunt. His missing leather jacket gave him hope. When he and his uncle had pursued bloodsuckers across the Eastern Bloc, they always had small electronic tracking devices hidden in their clothing. That had come in handy more than once, especially those times when Gabe had played the role of bait.

  Gabe was alone now, but that device was still hidden in the lining of his jacket, and he had a tracker. He began the search at the spot where he’d been captured, but wasn’t surprised at turning up a blank. Next he returned to the bar where he’d first spotted the vampire, and from there worked his way through the city, grid by grid. He did it in the daytime to be on the safe side. At night he bolted his hotel room door and slept with a whole set of wooden stakes under his pillow.

  It took over a week before he got a ping. Then it took him an hour of circling around a block of gray stone buildings till he could pinpoint the source: the basement unit of a small apartment complex. Bars and heavy curtains blocked the windows. Gabe went around and found the back door leading to an alley. Perfect. He went back to his hotel for supplies.

  Gabe returned to the building before dusk. He wore loose-fitting cargo pants with pockets large enough for spare stakes. The rest of his equipment was in an inconspicuous canvas bag. He hid in the narrow alley between a couple of Dumpsters. A gap between the wall and the large metal container gave him a straight view of the door while he remained concealed. Pungent odors of rotting trash and piss permeated the air around him. He kept his lips firmly pressed together—breathing through his mouth would have been like taking a bite out of the stench.

  He found a grimy plastic crate to sit on. It was ideal; he positioned himself so he could leap up quickly, but his muscles wouldn’t cramp up from crouching too long. He took a small crossbow out of his bag, fitted it with a wooden stake and cocked it. Laying it across his lap, he focused on finding the simmering fury that had always powered him in these matters. He didn’t quite succeed. However, after a few hours he didn’t notice the smell anymore.

  The moon perched high in the night sky when the door finally opened. Gabe’s muscles tensed as he gripped the crossbow. The vampire stepped out, and Gabe’s heart did a funny little somersault. The guy looked so very young and benign in the moonlight. Not guy but vampire—he had to remind himself. And he was a vampire slayer. All simple and clear-cut. He sprang out of his hiding place, aimed and shot with his usual lethal efficiency. Immediately, it all went wrong. Maybe it was the vampire climbing up a step, or maybe Gabe’s own treacherous hand jerked at the very moment he pulled the trigger—either way, the stake hit the vampire in the stomach instead of the chest.

  The momentum of the stake knocked back the vampire, who stumbled down the stairs and landed on its ass. Gabe rushed forward, dropping the crossbow and grabbing a spare stake as he moved. A second later, he crouched over the supine figure, arm raised, ready to strike. A jumble of emotions flickered over the vampire’s face: surprise, fear, anger, and finally, resignation. Its body went limp. It threw Gabe off his game. In five years, he’d never experienced a vampire simply surrendering. He hesitated, and it became his undoing. The vampire moved lightning fast, shoving Gabe off, landing a hard knee in his crotch in the process.

  Gabe could do nothing for a moment but curl up on himself from the pain. A moment was all it took for the vampire to take control of the situation, aiming Gabe’s own crossbow at him. The wooden spike in it was the very same one Gabe shot the vampire with. It glistened with blood. Stupidly, Gabe wondered if that particular detail qualified as irony.

  “You fucking asshole!” the vampire shouted at him. “I went out of my way to spare your stupid life, and trust me, it was far more inconvenient than getting rid of your stinking carcass would have been. The minimum courtesy would dictate that you at least leave me the hell alone. This is just fucking rude!”

  “I’m a slayer,” Gabe explained through gritted teeth. Really, what the hell did this weirdo bloodsucker expect of him?

  “Oh, you mean a single-minded moron, with the mental capacity of a charging rhino? That’s a fine excuse.” The vampire’s eyes flashed with fury.

  Gabe had absolutely no answer to that. Still crippled with pain, he tried to curl into a tighter ball—he needed to protect his most vulnerable parts long enough to regain control of his body. He had his arms over his face and neck but looked up when he heard the sound of wood smashing against brick. It was his crossbow shattering against the wall. He watched openmouthed as the vampire, his shirt soaked in blood, stepped over him and walked into the apartment, slamming the door.

  Gabe heard no sounds other than the usual hum of the city as he lay on the ground, utterly bewildered. He’d stumbled into terrain more unfamiliar than the forests of the Carpathian Mountains. Since he saw no indication of the vampire returning, and because, frankly, he started to feel stupid, he cautiously stood up. His balls were still plenty sore, but he’d live. The sensible thing was to leave, perhaps regroup, and make new plans. So naturally, he did the opposite. He told himself he should go after the wounded vampire and stop it from alerting others. Curiosity might have also played a role in his decision.

  Gabe tried the door, and it yielded. Walking in, he found himself in a large room that served both as a living area and kitchen. The space looked a lot like an IKEA showroom. It didn’t even surprise him anymore. The vampire was bleeding onto a beige couch, arms cradling his stomach, face half buried in the cushions. He was obviously in pain—pain that Gabe caused. It made Gabe feel uncomfortable. He was a hunter, not a torturer.

  He couldn’t find any of the familiar fury in himself, only emptiness and an inexplicable sense of remorse. Strictly speaking, undead or not, this guy had never done any serious harm to him, in spite of ample provocation. No vampire had shown him mercy before, and this turn of events left him disoriented.

  The vampire didn’t even look up. “What the fuck do you want? Finish what you started?” He sounded bitter and somehow disappointed.

&
nbsp; “Hey, you’ll heal, right?” Gabe heard himself say. He knew they healed fast—another reason to kill them quick.

  “What the fuck do you think hurts so fucking much?”

  “For a small guy, you curse a lot.” It felt strange to have a conversation with a vamp, as if they were two regular people.

  “What does one have to do… Oh shit, shit, shit—” The guy…vampire doubled over in agony, his face twisting in pain. Human instincts overriding five years of training, Gabe dropped to his haunches and put a hand on the guy’s back in a comforting gesture. He was at a loss. This was not how these things were supposed to go down. Life used to be simple; his job was to make the undead dead, and their job was to fight back and die. Everything had gone off-kilter now. He didn’t have it in him to slay a vampire that didn’t try to do the same to him. He’d never had this problem in the Old Country.

  The slender figure on the couch, racked with pain, was all wrong, making Gabe feel all wrong too. Not knowing what else to do, he stroked the guy’s back, even made some nonsensical shushing sounds, as one would to soothe a sick child. The shivers running through the vamp’s body subsided, and slowly his breathing returned to normal.

  “I should’ve disemboweled you last time,” he muttered.

  “You’re just saying that. Entrails make a big mess.”

  Gabe felt the body under his hand shake, and he realized it was from laughter.

  “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  “Sorry.”

  The guy cracked an eye open and looked up. He was pale, even for a vampire.

  “I’m Harvey,” he said weakly. He moved his hand as if for a handshake, but seeing it covered in blood, he pulled it back.

  “Gabe.”

  “Gabe, I need to feed.”

  With the sudden agility of a man who’d just about stepped on a rattlesnake, Gabe snatched his hand away and sprang to his feet.

  Harvey pursed his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Just get me a bottle from the fridge, okay?”