by Sonya Clark
Jessie snorted with laughter. “Where’d you get that, some online name generator? What’s your real name?”
He shook his head in frustration. “Ethelder,” he spat. “Ethelder Sahlstrom.”
Jessie’s eyebrow quirked.
He shrugged. “I’m from Minnesota,” he said. “About a hundred years ago. I prefer Draven.”
Jessie said, “Well, I prefer Starbucks over Maxwell House, but sometimes any old cup of coffee will do. Ethelder.” She drew the name out, trying to make it sound as ridiculous as possible. Kirkbride shifted in his perch, as if trying to use the movement to cover his nudging her with his knee. She glanced at him. His eyes were on Ethelder and Margot. Draven and Margot. In a much mellower tone, she said, “Okay, Draven, we’re waiting. Give us the big story.”
Draven gave her a look of contempt as he settled himself more comfortably in his seat. “I’d been in a relationship for quite some time, but it wasn’t working anymore.”
“Human or vamp?” Jessie asked, eliciting sideways looks from the reporter and the ex-minister both.
“Vampire,” Draven answered. “Her name was Salome.” Jessie made a face but said nothing. “We’d been together for years but the fire had gone out of the relationship. We didn’t even hunt together anymore.” Inexplicably, he looked to Jessie for understanding.
She rolled her eyes. “Clearly, the thrill was gone.”
Margot snorted. “The fool didn’t know what she had.”
Draven continued. “I started running into a pack of werewolves, crossing paths every now and then. Mostly, we gave each other a wide berth, but there was one...” His voice drifted as he gave Margot another long, loving stare. “She was magnificent. A creature of such sublime beauty and spirit, she took my breath away, and such a warrior. We fought, more than once, fiercely. The third time, right in the middle of the fight, she changed. We made love right there on the forest floor and I knew my life would never be the same.”
Jessie spoke quickly before his pause turned into another “staring deeply into each other’s eyes for three days” moment. “So you broke up with Salome. Then what happened?”
“She tried to kill us, of course. Some of our friends tried to help her, and Margot’s pack cast her out when she refused to leave me. It seemed like it was us against the world. Finally, somebody poisoned me. We’re not even sure who. We left the area as soon as I was able. It’s taking time for me to return to full strength.”
“What was used to poison you?” Kirkbride interjected.
“Like I’m going to let him tell you,” Jessie snapped. “You got yourself a gang here or what? I’ve seen the police files. I know it’s more than just the two of you.”
“You have to understand, Margot is a social creature. She needs companionship, the love and affection of a—”
Jessie cut him off. “You created a pack,” she said.
Margot shot back, “We created a family!”
Jessie stood, arms crossed, her gaze drilling into Margot. “He made new vampires, and I bet you’ve had time to make a werewolf or two, haven’t you?”
Margot answered with only a defiant glare.
Brandon gave a nervous cough. He raised the hand of his uninjured arm. “Uh, I have a question.”
Without looking at him Jessie answered his unspoken question. “You’re fine. They can change into a wolf any time but they can only make other wolves on a full moon.”
Rowdy craned around to whisper to Kirkbride, “There’s a full moon in two days.”
“Yes, there is.” Margot gave Brandon an inviting smile. “I’d love to see you then.”
“Sorry, I’m busy that night,” he replied.
“You’re not making any more additions to your pack.” Jessie addressed Draven. Whether he’d ever met the king or not, he owed fealty to the Vampire Court, and lived or died at the king’s pleasure. He knew that, but apparently needed reminding. “You think you’ve got yourselves a nice little blended multispecies family here when what you really have is a freak show. I’m drawing the curtain on it.”
Draven stood, hands on his hips. He shook his head, his voice full of disappointment and disgust. “I’m so tired of this. All the hatred, the bigotry.”
“If you say ‘why can’t we all get along’ I’ll rip your throat out right here and now,” Jessie said.
“Why the hell can’t we? Why does everyone at the Court of Monsters have to hate each other?” He pointed at Margot. “Aren’t we proof it doesn’t have to be that way? Vampires and werewolves can coexist. You know, I bet if the two of you got to know each other, you’d be friends.” He missed the dubious look on Margot’s face.
Jessie gave a short, mocking laugh. “What, you think we’d go shopping together, knock back a couple of Cosmos, watch some TV?” She looked at Margot. “What do you think, Hooch?”
The werewolf stood. “I bet you can guess what I think.”
The five humans came to their feet, Rowdy still aiming the shotgun at Margot, Lenny and Haywood holding crossbows trained on Draven. Jessie glanced at them, thinking Kirkbride looked ready to rumble and worried no one would think to get the injured Brandon out of the way once this turned into a fight.
Jessie faced Draven. “I don’t care if you call this a family or what. It’s out of control. You’ve got too many, and they’re killing too many. You know we can’t have this kind of attention.”
Draven shook his head, laughing. “You can’t be worried about mortals. What can they do to us? They can’t touch us.”
“Hundreds of years ago our kind were nearly wiped off the face of the planet by illiterate peasants armed with crosses, swords and fire! What do you think modern mortals could do, with the weapons they would have at their disposal? Have you even thought about what exposure might mean for us?”
“I say, bring it!” Margot cried.
Jessie rolled her eyes. “Big surprise there. Draven, just because I’m standing here talking to you, don’t think this is open to debate. You realize I’ve got all the information the king requires.” It was more statement than question, and she schooled her expression to be grimly formal.
She felt Kirkbride tense next to her. Good. Don’t have to worry about giving him a signal.
Draven gave her a wide, warm smile. “I’m feeling better now. This little rest has done me good.”
“There is another piece of information you need,” Margot said, almost purring. “We love our family. We’ll do anything to protect them.”
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it, they’re only buying time. Jessie glanced quickly at the doors and windows.
“And they’ll do anything for us,” Draven finished.
“Find a way through and get your people out,” Jessie said in a rush to Kirkbride.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’ll meet you at the shelter,” she replied. The crash and clatter of breaking glass and exploding wood sounded around them as the pack burst through the church’s doors and windows. At quick count it looked like more than half a dozen vampires and two werewolves. Whatever worry she felt for the safety of the mortals was quickly eclipsed by a feverish anticipation. This was going to be a nasty fight, and those were always the best kind to win. Jessie gave Margot a slight smile and a nod. “You and me, Marmaduke. You and me.”
Margot laughed as the change came over her.
Chapter 6
Brandon figured they must have had a plan for protecting civilians. Kirkbride and Haywood, both being ex-military, would have thought of that. As the monsters advanced, Rowdy and Lenny grabbed him and hid behind the altar, weapons ready. The vampires may have retained their human form but they looked to Brandon just as animal-like and predatory as the werewolves. They wore ragged clothes not much better than the homeless people they preyed on and carried no weapons he could see. Of course they didn’t need to—their fangs and their strength gave them all the advantage they needed. The werewolves frightened him even more. Larger than real wolves, not q
uite formed right, it was hard to accept there were human beings trapped inside claws and fur. If he hadn’t seen Margot change with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it.
Kirkbride, Haywood, and Jessie threw themselves into the fight. At first Brandon heard more than he could see, sounds of wood shattering, bones snapping, screams of pain and yells of anger. The wolves howling and growling, one of them whimpering, followed by another crack of breaking bone. Trying to peer around the altar, he spotted Haywood wrestling with one of the wolves, Kirkbride trading blows with a vampire, looking for an opening for the stake in one hand. Draven watched the fight with a satisfied smirk. In a far corner was a blur of movement, almost like the shimmer on a far horizon. Brandon didn’t understand what he was seeing until a cloud of smoke exploded and Jessie stopped moving long enough to find her next target and take off, tanto flashing in the low light and dripping blood.
Haywood was losing to the werewolf. It looked even bigger than Margot and clearly had experience fighting. It pinned Haywood down, sinking its claws into his forearm. Without thinking, Brandon rose from his hiding place and ran to them, swinging the nunchucks at the wolf. He was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the nunchucks opened a wide gash on the wolf’s head, followed by a blast of pain from his own injured shoulder. He sank to his knees and watched as Rowdy fired her crossbow, planting an arrow in the wolf’s chest. Haywood pulled himself up to sit in a pew, holding his arm and looking ready to pass out. Rowdy rushed to him, pulled a first aid kit from her backpack and got to work.
“Lenny, we need cover!” she yelled. Brandon looked back to the altar to see Lenny. The boy stood with his arms outstretched, held in place by the three vampires feeding on him. Raising the nunchucks, Brandon hauled himself up and charged at the nearest vampire. All three of them scattered before he could get there, though. Jessie and her tanto might have been the reason but he wasn’t sure. His vision tunneled until all he could see was Lenny, left on the ground like a broken doll, covered in his own blood.
* * * *
The Joshua Shelter was located in a renovated warehouse several blocks from the abandoned church. It should have been an easy walk. Not too bad of a run, either. Brandon would not forget how strange the air felt on his face, how clean it was, as he ran as best as his injured shoulder would allow, Haywood’s nunchucks still gripped tight in one hand. On Kirkbride’s orders Rowdy sped ahead, her feet barely touching the ground. He kept going, thinking of the safety ahead and not what was behind him. It should have been a quick trip. Time seemed to stretch out like a rubber band and Brandon saw everything again, whether he wanted to or not.
He heard a banging ahead as Rowdy reached the shelter and threw the door open. By the time he got to the door, she had already gone for the first aid kit. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, blinking in the bright light, not sure what to do. The pain in his shoulder ebbed and peaked in waves and right now was definitely at a peak. The torn remains of his shirt clung to his skin, sticky with sweat and dried blood. Rowdy ran back in carrying a big plastic box full of supplies, setting it down on the long prep table half covered with pots and pans. She swept everything to the floor, the clatter of metal hitting the floor making him jump. He was about to speak, to ask what he could do to help, when shouting sounded from the alley. She looked up from unpacking bandages and he went to the door to hold it open. As soon as they were in, he shut the door, using every lock it had then sagged against it. He shut his eyes tight but all that did was bring forth more images from the church.
Brandon rapped his head against the door and opened his eyes. Lenny lay on the prep table, Haywood on one side, Kirkbride and Rowdy on the other. Puncture wounds in Lenny’s wrists leaked blood on the table and floor. There were more wounds on his neck. Rowdy pressed bandages to those wounds to try stopping the bleeding.
Brandon blinked, remembering the look on Lenny’s face as the vampires fed on him. He didn’t think there was a word to describe the kind of agony he saw there.
A puddle of blood formed on the floor under the spot where one of Lenny’s hands hung off the table. Brandon watched it, mesmerized. Drops of blood kept falling, making the puddle grow larger, falling almost in a rhythm. He heard an uneven rasping sound but didn’t know or care where it came from. His entire focus remained on that puddle of blood, and the drops that were feeding it. The drops seemed to be slower.
A sharp voice made him snap out of it.
“Will! Will! William!” Haywood screamed. He pulled Kirkbride away from Lenny, and Brandon realized Kirkbride had been doing CPR. “It’s no good. He’s gone, Will.”
Rowdy began to scream. Kirkbride took her in his arms and held her, not trying to quiet her. Haywood closed Lenny’s eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, heedless of the blood. Their collective anguish filled the room and Brandon wanted to run from it, get as far away as he could. He found his chance when he saw a flash of movement at the other side of the kitchen, in the door leading to the shelter. Jessie stood there, staring. Soaking wet, she was covered in blood, her clothing torn and hair a wild cloud. Brandon made his way to her and pulled her from the doorway into the short hall, yanking the door halfway closed.
“Did you get them?” he asked. “The three that did that?”
She nodded. “Draven and Margot got away. They split up. Draven and another vamp took off with the wolf you hit. I went after Margot but I lost her in the water. Did you get hurt again?”
He was surprised at the quality of her voice. It sounded almost tender. “No. I just...” His voice trailed off.
“You’re in shock,” she said. “You need your wound cleaned, antibiotics. Some whiskey wouldn’t hurt.”
She started to go in the kitchen but he stopped her. “I think we should let them have a little space right now.”
“You need help and they’re the one with the supplies. They...” She stopped at the sight of them.
The three stood together over Lenny’s body, Rowdy looking tiny and fragile between the two big soldiers. She held Lenny’s hand tightly between both of hers. Haywood covered her hands with one of his. Kirkbride did the same and began to lead them in prayer. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” As the other two joined in, Jessie backed quietly out of the door, closing it softly.
For a long moment she seemed reluctant to meet Brandon’s gaze. “Let’s sit out here and wait awhile.”
He nodded. They sat, leaning against the walls opposite each other and quiet in their own thoughts.
* * * *
Kirkbride exited the kitchen. The last thing he felt like doing right now was dealing with the vampire but he wanted to get it over with. He offered Brandon his hand to help him up. “We’ve got a better first aid kit in there.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Go, let Haywood fix you up.”
Before Brandon could respond, Kirkbride turned his eyes to Jessie. “We need to talk.”
Jessie rose to her feet and gave Brandon a nod as he returned to the kitchen. Kirkbride led her to the shelter’s small office and closed the door behind them.
Kirkbride stood behind his desk, staring blankly out the small dirty window. “How many did you get?”
“A wolf, four vamps. Margot and Draven got away. They split up. I followed Margot but she went into the harbor. I couldn’t track her in all the funk.”
He said nothing for a long moment. “The four vampires...”
“The three that killed your boy are dead,” she said quietly.
He nodded, still not looking at her. “I took out a vampire. There’s one werewolf pretty badly injured, leaving the two leaders and how many more, do you think?”
“Uh, two vamps. I got the sense this was the whole crowd, but I could be wrong.”
“You should stay away from Haywood and Rowdy. I think right now they’d kill you on general principal.”
“What about you?”
He turned to face her. “You make one move to help the pack, I’ll kill you myself.”
She showed no surprise. “I told you my purpose here. You know you’re not going to have to kill me. You’re grieving and you want someone to take it out on and I’m the only vampire right in front of you now, so you threaten me. Did it help?”
He came at her, his face full of hatred, his arm raised and fist clenched. She made no move to stop him, and that fact shamed him more than all the other reasons he had to be ashamed of this moment. He stopped himself, his fist so close to hers his knuckles nearly touched her skin. For a moment she looked so small to Kirkbride, smaller even than Rowdy, but he knew she had enough strength to hurt him easily. She could kill him easily, but she simply stood there, looking up at him, unflinching, unafraid to meet his eyes.
He lowered his arm. “I don’t know what would help this.” He walked back behind the desk and sank into the chair.
“Finishing off the pack, for one thing. I know that’ll do me a world of good.” She sat in the folding chair, pulling it closer to the desk. “There’s something else we need to discuss right now, Brother William.”
The strange tone of her voice rang alarm bells. “What?”
“Do you know if they made him drink?”
Fear edged out the grief. He stammered for a moment, unable to say anything.
“Do you know what to do?” She kept her voice low and even.
“Is there any way to tell, other than the obvious?”
She shook her head. “If they did make him drink, you don’t want to see what comes next, and you damn sure don’t want that little girl to see it.”
“Will cremation, would that...” He was unable to get the rest of the words out.
“Scatter his ashes. You’ll have to do it before the next nightfall. If he was turned, that’s when he’ll rise.”
He shot up out of his chair and ran to a side door leading to a small bathroom, barely making it before his stomach rebelled. He retched until his stomach felt empty as the rest of him. He flushed the toilet and hobbled to the sink, splashing water on his face. He avoided his reflection as long as he could, not wanting to meet his own eyes. Scared of what he’d see there. He never should have let those kids go out with him and Haywood. So stupid, so careless, thinking he could give them all the training they needed to fight.
