Emily Shadowhunter 4 - a Vampire, Shapeshifter, Werewolf novel.: Book 4: DAY WALKER

by Craig Zerf

  Emily pulsed Troy and relayed the information.

  ‘Great,’ he responded. ‘See you at the helicopter in five. I’ll collect the rest of the team.’

  ‘I’m not coming,’ pulsed Emily.

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘I’ll lose control, Troy,’ she said. ‘We both know that I will. I simply cannot stop it. The overwhelming urge to destroy in the worst way possible. Once it starts, I can’t seem to be able to differentiate between the enemy and the people that I love. I can’t risk it. Take one of your wolves instead. In fact,’ continued Em. ‘Don’t take the usual team. It’s time to blood your Pack. Take four wolves with you. See how their training has helped them.’

  Troy gave a mental nod. ‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘When I get back, we’ll talk.’

  ‘Whatever,’ responded Emily. ‘Be safe.’

  Minutes later she heard the clatter of the helicopter taking off and hammering away into the night sky.

  Chapter 13

  Larry and Barry Plumpton still lived at home. With their mum. They were identical twins. Larry was the oldest of the two by seven minutes. They both sported schoolboy haircuts, short back and sides with side-partings. Pencil mustaches and small triangular goatee beards.

  The Twins were what is technically referred to as mildly schizophrenic with sociopathic tendencies. Or as the word on the street was, complete nutters.

  In fact the only person more feared by the criminal underworld in London and surrounds was their mum, known to all as Aunt Plumpton, or simply Aunty. And she ruled her domain with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. In the main, Aunty controlled drugs, gambling and high-class prostitution that, in turn, gave her a certain amount of clout with the political elite who were oft addicted to all three of the vices she dealt in.

  She left protection rackets, GBH and robbery to the criminal gangs that she considered to be the bottom feeders. People like Mister Stopes. Or the Naidoo Family, originally from Calcutta. The only gangs that she kept well away from were the ones that operated out of Chinatown. As Aunt Plumpton always said, ‘The sames with the sames and the different with the differents’.

  And anyway, the Chinese gangs made her feel uncomfortable with their tattoos and strange traditions and bowing. She referred to them as ‘Nasty foreign muck’, and anyone with any sense merely nodded in agreement or mumbled a ‘Yes, Aunty’. Because those who didn’t agree inevitably got a visit from The Twins. And anyone in their right minds would prefer to avoid that if it were in any way possible.

  At the moment, The Twins were doing the rounds. Mum was very particular about the rounds. In the kitchen there was a whiteboard and on the whiteboard was a weekly to-do list. Mostly this consisted of The Twins doing the rounds. Visiting their many Houses of ill Repute, as mum put it, as well as their upmarket opium dens and discreet gambling salons where gentlemen could gamble on the strangest of things.

  When they did their rounds The Twins were chauffer driven. An old Jaguar. Their driver was an old Kenyan by the name of Monty. He had been in the families employ for over fifty years and, although both his hearing and his eyesight were beginning to go, he knew London like a pair of his own underwear.

  Ostensibly, when in public, The Twins dressed similarly. Not identically. They both carried silver topped sword canes; they both wore three piece suits and silver watch chains. But the color of their suits differed. Whereas Larry, as the eldest, always wore a deep navy blue, Barry went for what he felt was a less ostentatious dark midnight blue. Thus they felt it was easy for anyone to tell them apart.

  It was a Wednesday so the first stop on the list was Madame Petunia’s.

  Madame Petunia’s was a brothel situated in Wimbledon, close to the hallowed courts but away from the hustle and bustle of the shopping areas. From the outside it looked like any other large, suburban mansion circa 1920’s. Part Art Deco and part post-war concrete extension. On the automatic front gate, next to the intercom, there was a subtle brass plaque inscribed with the capital letters MP.

  Needless to say, entrance was by invitation only.

  After buzzing the intercom Monty drove The Twins around to the back entrance, stopped, alighted and opened the doors for them, saluting smartly as he did so.

  As always, The Twins ignored him and proceeded through the back door into the establishment.

  They were greeted by the manager of the house, Betty Grant. There was no actual Madame Petunia. There never had been.

  ‘Mister Plumpton,’ greeted Betty. ‘And mister Plumpton,’ she greeted again. ‘May I take your coats?’

  ‘No time, Betty,’ answered Larry. As the older of the two, Larry always fielded the questions and did most of the talking. ‘Flying visit, I’m afraid. Just collection, quick scan of the books.’

  Betty bowed and led them through to the main office.

  Unlike one would expect, the house was tastefully decorated. Original art on the walls, subdued colors, plush wool carpets and pot plants. More five star hotel than South-of-the-border brothel. Behind the closed doors of the twenty separate “Games Rooms” it was a different question. With names like, ‘The Dungeon Room’, ‘The Naughty Boys Room’, and ‘The Scoutmasters Study’, nothing was left to imagine what actually went on behind said doors. Suffice to say that the house did more spanking than it provided actual sex and, as such, it was particularly popular with Tory Politicians and Upper Class playboys.

  It was also part of Aunty’s biggest earners.

  Betty handed over the ledgers and, while Larry perused them, she handed a large wad of cash to Barry who proceeded to count it.

  Larry pushed the books away from him and steepled his hands. ‘Takings are slightly down on what I’d expected, Betty,’ he said.

  ‘I agree,’ added Barry after he had finished counting.

  ‘Well it’s all there, mister Plumpton and mister Plumpton,’ insisted Betty. ‘I checked it all myself.’

  Larry shook his head. ‘Are the girls pooling their tips as we instructed?’ He asked. ‘Are we talking half and redistributing the rest?’

  Betty nodded. ‘As always, sirs.’

  Larry pulled the ledger towards him and opened it up again. Then he ran a finger down one of the columns. His finger stopped. ‘This girl,’ he said. ‘New, is she?’

  Betty nodded. ‘Started a fortnight ago. Awfully good with the whip. Got the politicos lining up to get a spanking.’

  ‘Fetch her.’

  Betty jumped up and ran from the room. Under a minute later she came back. Behind her a generously built woman, five ten, brown eyes, brunette, false eyelashes, wearing a rubber nurses outfit and ridiculously high heels, sashayed in.

  Betty introduced her. ‘Mister and mister Plumpton, this is Miss Voluptua.’

  The woman bowed slightly and batted her eyes. Then she leant forward, displaying an impressive cleavage, and ran her finger down Larry’s cheek. ‘I am pleased to meet you, you naughty boys,’ she breathed in a fake Russian accent.

  ‘Betty,’ said Larry. ‘Please inform this girl that if she touches me again I shall cut her finger off and stick it up her left nostril. And ensure that she appreciates that I am being deadly serious.’

  Betty grabbed Miss Voluptua and pulled her back. ‘Listen, Love,’ she said. ‘You don’t go touching the bosses. They don’t take gladly to it.’

  ‘Now, what is our name?’ Asked Larry.

  ‘Miss Volu…’

  ‘Your real name, miss. Come along now, we’re all busy people.’

  ‘Sienna Morning.’

  ‘Real name,’ repeated Larry.

  ‘Oh,’ said the girl. ‘Sorry. I fought you meant my uvva real name. Oh, my name’s Chloe. Chloe Brown.’

  ‘Goo, now, Chloe, Chloe Brown. Did Betty explain to you the system regarding the cash tips that you receive?’

  Chloe nodded. ‘We ‘and then in and then you give us some back.’

  ‘So why are you keeping half of your tips?’

  ‘Oh I ain’t, sir,�
� protested Chloe.

  ‘Yes you are.’

  Chloe put her hands on her hips. ‘I would never, sir,’ she insisted.

  Larry sighed. ‘Barry,’ he gestured towards his minutes-younger brother.

  Barry stood up, drawing a straight razor from his jacket pocket as he did so. With practiced ease he flicked it open. The scalpel sharp edge glowed like a line of ice as he stepped towards the young girl.

  ‘Oy,’ she said. ‘What you going to do wiv that?’

  Barry slashed the blade swiftly from side to side and then up and down.

  Chloe squeaked in shock as the blade sliced through her outfit, barely touching her skin.

  Her ridiculous rubber outfit fell in pieces to the floor leaving her naked but for an over-tight black lace bra.

  And tucked into the bra were three twenty Pound notes.

  Barry plucked them from their lacy constraint and handed them to Larry.

  ‘We won’t mention this again,’ said the older twin. ‘Suffice to say that both of you will have this week’s wages docked from you salaries. You,’ he said to Betty, ‘for not paying due care and attention, and you,’ he addressed Chloe, ‘for stealing.’

  He stood up. ‘Come along, Barry. The morning is wasting.’

  Barry left the room.

  Larry, stopped on his way out, turned to Chloe. ‘A word of advice, young girl,’ he said.

  Chloe nodded.

  Larry bunched his fist and hit her in the stomach, moving forward as he did so. Putting his body behind the blow. The punch threw Chloe against the wall and she slid to the floor, her face ashen as she desperately tried to suck in some air. ‘The next time that you step out of line I’m going to tell my mum. And you wouldn’t like that.’

  He nodded to Betty and left.

  ***

  The Twins got home late that evening and when they walked into the kitchen, they both knew that they were in trouble.

  Mum was sitting in her usual chair at the head of the kitchen table. On the table in front of her was a three foot Malacca cane. It was almost an inch thick. It was supple. It was heavy. And it was stained with blood.

  She called her cane, ‘Mister Twinkle-toes’. And she used it for disciplining The Twins.

  Both Larry and Barry went pale at the sight.

  ‘Evening, mum,’ ventured Larry. ‘Everything okay?’

  Missus Plumpton nodded. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

  Both Larry and Barry shrugged.

  ‘Well,’ continued the mum. ‘I suppose there might be one small thing.’ She stood up, picking up the cane as she did so. Swishing it through the air. ‘For example, someone might be stealing from me and then my sons, my own flesh and blood, might not be telling me. Or indeed, might not even be doing anything about it.’

  ‘What do you mean, mum?’ Asked Barry. ‘No one’s stealing from us. We’d know.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ retorted mum. ‘So that floozy that you caught pocketing our cash today, not stealing?’

  ‘It was a minor transgression, mum,’ said Larry. ‘We took care of it.’

  Missus Plumpton shook her head. ‘You did not take care of it,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I had to go out there and take care of it myself this afternoon when I found out. Now, you know the punishment for bad boys who don’t do as they’re told. Come on, bend over.’

  With unshed tears in their eyes the two grown men pulled their trousers down and bent over the kitchen table. Missus Plumton counted off each stroke as she delivered them. Six of the best for each son. When she had finished, there was fresh blood on the cane.

  ‘There you go, boys,’ she said. ‘All done. You know that I do this for your own good.’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Now, you have a nice hot bath. Put some Epson Salts in the water, that’ll help with the healing. Then after that I need you to go back to Madame Petunia and help Betty get rid of the body.’

  Again they nodded in unison.

  ‘Yes, mum. Straight after our bath,’ agreed Larry.

  Chapter 14

  Nathan had decided on a guard of five. They were the very best of the best. All Bloodwraiths. All elders of more than five hundred years. And all fanatically loyal to both him and his ideas.

  He called them his Nightwalkers.

  And he took them to Italy with him. To seek an audience with the Capo. The master of all masters.

  To inquire about his advice.

  To ask for a boon.

  And to kill him.

  As usual, they had flown privately, at night, followed by a car ride in a blacked out limo. Upon arrival he and his crew were given rooms in the mansion that were commensurate with Nathan’s rank.

  As soon as they had settled, he approached the Capo’s secretary and petitioned for a personal and private audience. The secretary bade him wait and, over half an hour later, informed Nathan that he had been refused. He explained that the Capo was extremely busy.

  However, there was a function arranged for that evening. The chapter house was receiving the head of the Lithuanian Nosferatu along with his entourage and a formal dinner was being held in his honor. Nathan and his team were invited to attend. During the evening the Capo hoped that he would find some time for him and Nathan to talk.

  The ex-Shadowhunter bowed his acceptance and left.

  That evening Nathan and his Nightwalkers dressed for dinner. Like the Bloodwraiths, the Nightwalkers wore a uniform. In almost all aspects, it was the same as the Bloodwraiths leathers. The only difference being the color. Instead of deep maroon, they wore blue.

  Royal blue as befitting the personal guard of a king.

  They were ushered to their seats that were situated close enough to the head to avoid showing disrespect but far enough away to not show any favor.

  There were another twenty vampires at the table. Ten Italians and ten Lithuanians. Along the walls stood another ten bodyguards. The meal started with a short speech by the Capo. He welcomed his guests and praised the head of the Lithuanian house for his loyalty and dependability. He did not stand while he spoke and he barely raised his voice. But Nathan could feel the ancient vampire’s power and coercion and it filled him with an emotion that came close to fear. But it was not true fear as the blade of the Capo’s influence was blunted on the anvil of Nathan’s overweening ambition.

  Then the leader clapped his hands and dinner was dragged in.

  A dozen young men and women. Naked. They had been bound and gagged via the use of leather straps and bright red rubber balls in their mouths. Because, while no one minds their food thrashing around a bit, it is decidedly unpleasant to hear them screaming and mewling while you ate. Especially at a formal dinner.

  The vampires fed quickly and efficiently and in less than half an hour the bodies had been cleared away and the marble floor mopped of any excess spillage.

  Nathan and his Nightwalkers had abstained.

  It was then that Nathan stood to address the gathering. Uninvited and uncalled for.

  ‘I stand before a group of old men,’ he began. ‘Weak. Pathetic. Spent. A gathering of cowards and vassals. Only days before I approached the elders’ council with a plan.

  A plan that would enrich the lives lf the Nosferatu. A plan that would increase our influence. Our power. Our wealth. A plan that would see us in our true places in this modern world. Not as skulkers in the dark but as kings of the night. Leaders of the world. Owners of the human race.

  But that plan was rejected as were any other thoughts that I had for the betterment of the Nosferatu.’

  When Nathan had started to talk the Capo had smiled in condescending amusement. But after a few lines he started to grow angry.

  ‘Sit down, young Tremblay,’ he commanded. ‘Before I order my guards to make you do so.’

  Nathan laughed loudly. ‘Your guards couldn’t make a kindergarten teacher sit. They are as venal and pathetic as you and the rest of this audience.’

  The Capo ges
tured and the ten guards aligned along the walls moved to his command. But before they had taken two steps, the Nightwalkers were on them. And it was like a group of toddlers attempting to fight off a pack of pit-bulls. In mere seconds the Capo’s bodyguards lay dismembered on the floor.

  Nathan laughed again. ‘Look,’ he said to the Capo. ‘Pathetic.’

  The ancient leader of the Nosferatu stood up, his face a mask of controlled anger. ‘Enough,’ he hissed. ‘Your insolence once amused me but now it offends. You have gone too far.’ And he unleashed the full power of his coercion onto the young would-be usurper, crushing him to the floor.

  Except, it didn’t work.

  Instead Nathan pushed back and released the power of Erin. Lashing out at the Capo with the strength of the very gods themselves. The room shook as if under an artillery bombardment. Windows shattered and flagstones buckled.

  The two vampires, young and ancient faced each other across the table. Both stood stock still while all about them vortices of power swirled and coruscated. Paintings tore off the walls, drapes ripped and statues were sundered.

  And slowly, the Capo started to sink to his knees.

  As his knees struck the floor, Nathan was on him. His talons and fangs fully extended.

  Smashing and ripping and slashing at the withered, old flesh. Tearing and slicing with abandon. Then he picked the Capo up with his right hand and, with his left, he grasped what was left of the ancient’s neck, and tore his head from his body.

  Instantly everyone in the room fell to their knees.

  And as one they said the words.

  ‘Capo. Lead us.’

  Chapter 15

  The Prof opened the door to Em’s room without knocking and stood staring at her. Then he approached and walked around her at arm’s length, pausing every now and then to wave in the air with his right hand.

  ‘Morning Prof,’ greeted Em. ‘Creepy much?’

  The Prof shook his head. ‘It’s all wrong,’ he muttered to himself.