by Lysa Daley
On the edge of the homeless encampment, affectionately called Beachtown by its inhabitants, Stryker parked illegally in a red zone in front of an old bank building and exited the car. I followed, hurrying to keep up. I looked back over my shoulder, wondering if he cared that he might get a ticket, or worse, get towed.
“Hey, I don’t think you can park here.”
“Let’s go.” He marched on.
Obviously, he didn’t care.
At the end of a long crumbling sidewalk sat a parking lot for a now boarded up grocery store. The parking lot, with its cracked blacktop, was crowded with tents and makeshift shacks. It was a modern shanty town filled with the down-on-their-luck.
“Who are these people?” I asked, wondering where they could have all come from. What unexpected twist of fate had reduced their lives to this? Drugs, mental illness, dark magic?
“They’re just folks who had a few more bad days than you or me,” he answered. “Stay close. You never know who might take an interest in a pretty girl like you.”
I quickened my pace, falling into stride right next to him. He didn't have to ask me twice. We continued on into a neighborhood that’d definitely seen better days. The once quaint block of little beach bungalows now sagged with broken windows, peeling paint, and dead, stumpy grass.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Word around here is that Xavier owns the bar at the end of the block and uses it as his office.”
I glanced down at my phone: 9:11am. “A little early for a bar to be open, isn't it?”
“Not in this neighborhood. Sort of a 24-hour a day kind of establishment.”
Kitty-corner and down the block from the abandoned grocery store stood a small wooden structure with a faded sign that read Strange Brew Bar and Tavern. A red neon Open sign glowed in the only window that wasn’t broken or cracked.
I followed Stryker through the swinging half doors that were like something out of a western movie into the smoky haze of the bar.
Stryker knew what he was talking about. A handful of patrons already nursed cocktails and bottles of beer.
The bartender, a meatloaf of the man with a bald head and an impressive array of tattoos, looked up at us. I suspected he might have been part ogre. His expression changed from mean to meaner when he saw us.
“Help you, brother?” he said, eyes glued on Stryker.
Stryker didn’t slow his pace. He kept walking toward the back. “We ain’t looking for any trouble. Just here to have a word with an old colleague.”
The back of the bar was rimmed with shabby wooden booths. A small, squat, sharp-dressed fellow with hard features sat in the booth closest to the back door. He swiveled his head, too big for his body, toward us as we approached, and I realized that he was a goblin.
I’d never seen a goblin in real life.
Unlike the bartender, the goblin smiled. It was a cruel smile, filled with yellow, jagged teeth, but a smile all the same. “Would you look what the cat dragged in on such a fine winter’s morning. Come for another loan?” The goblin’s eyes flicked over to me. “Brought a pretty girl for collateral too?”
“Not today, Xavier,” Stryker replied.
The goblin gestured for us to sit, but Stryker shook his head and remained standing at the edge of the table. I tried hard to look like I wasn't hiding behind Stryker. Except I was.
The goblin gave me the creeps.
Goblins were monstrous, greedy creatures known primarily as loan sharks for the most desperate and needy of the magical world. They might agree to loan you money, but it would come at a high cost. And the rumors, whispered quietly, of what would happen if you failed to pay them back were the thing of nightmares.
“That's too bad. Could have made a little nice profit with your girl.” The goblin shrugged off his disappointment. “What can I do for you? And what am I going to get for it?”
“I'm looking for a vampire.” Stryker immediately put his cards on the table. “Gone rogue. His Highest thinks you might know where he is.”
“Bernardo.” The goblin rolled his eyes. He sounded exasperated. “I knew that guy was going to be trouble.”
“Where is he?”
“How should I know?”
Stryker stepped forward, reached out, and lifted the goblin up by the knot of his red silk tie.
“Hey! Put me down, dog breath!” the goblin bellowed.
In one swift move, Stryker flipped him over, holding him upside down by the ankles. Coins rained down from his pockets, followed by softly fluttering paper currency from at least half a dozen different countries.
The goblin struggled to breathe. Putting his hands up in surrender, he gasped, “Okay, okay. Put me down.”
Stryker spun him right side up, then tossed him back into the booth.
“Fine. You win.” The goblin straightened his shirt and tie, trying to pull himself together. “Last I heard, he was down at the docks. Rented a warehouse or something. I'll write it down for you.” As he scribbled on a piece of paper, he added, “He ain't right in the head, though.”
“That dude’s never been quite right,” Stryker agreed.
“No, it’s worse. It's like he's rabid or something.” He handed Stryker the piece of paper. “If you want my opinion, somebody needs to put the guy down. But I ain’t seen him in weeks.”
“Uh huh… ” Stryker sounded unconvinced. “Weeks?”
“C’mon, man! I’m telling you the truth.”
At that moment, what looked like an industrial stainless steel freezer door in a dark back corner swung open from the inside. Out stepped a middle-aged female vampire dressed like a punk rocker, with her arm draped over a human teenage boy. By his rumpled, gaunt appearance, he was probably a runaway. The female vamp stumbled like a drunk -- which meant she’d recently fed.
The refrigerator door was a facade, hiding a secret area in the back.
“What’s this, Xavier?” Stryker looked pissed. “You got a little speakeasy happening back here? A little blood bank?”
“I swear I got no idea what’s going on in there.”
“Let’s have a little look-see, shall we?” Stryker marched toward the false door, pushing the tipsy vamp and her boy-toy out of the way.
Reluctantly, I trailed behind.
“Hey!” Xavier the goblin yelled. “Don’t go back there!”
Ignoring him, we moved through the fake refrigerator door into the strange vile world that lay behind it.
I could immediately smell the sickening metallic odor of blood. Even in the dim light, I saw vampires lounged on beds, covered with silken pillows, like some sort of old world opium den.
We’d stumbled upon an illegal vampire blood bar. Totally against the laws of the Magical Magistrate.
If ever I had felt in the presence of dark magic, it was now.
Stryker stormed farther in, disturbing the tomblike quiet and startling the lounging vampires. He spun a circle, working fast and taking advantage of the element of surprise. He zeroed in on one particular male vampire.
“Well hello there, Bernardo,” he said. “We’ve been looking for you.”
So this was Bernardo, the rogue vampire.
At first, I thought he wasn’t much to look at. His hair was dirty, and his clothes were tattered. If he wasn’t homeless, he couldn’t have been more than a couple steps away from it. But his face looked like a freakin’ rockstar. The confident gleam in his eyes told me that he knew it too.
Even though he lacked the grace and polish of the vampires I’d encountered in Beverly Hills, he still had the deadly air of a predator.
For an instant, I thought I saw a flash of fear shade Bernardo’s face, but then it faded as he lurched angrily forward. “Stryker Smith, took you long enough. You seekers ain’t what you used to be.”
Stryker sniffed, nonplussed. “Considering I’ve been looking for you for less than an hour, I think I’m doing pretty good.”
With that, the two men launched themselves at each
other in hand-to-hand combat.
I scrambled to get out of the way.
The other vampires scurried like rats to make a quick exit. They didn’t want any trouble.
The two men battled it out. Bernardo may have been stronger, but Stryker was more skilled. Bernardo threw a devastating punch that Stryker somehow avoided by ducking and quickly rebounded with his own carefully placed kick to the crotch.
Apparently that worked on vampires too.
Bernardo doubled over in pain as Stryker attempted to subdue him. For a moment, I thought it might actually work, but then Bernardo recovered just enough to throw a high, hard elbow at Stryker, slamming it into the side of his head and forcing him to let go as he crumpled to the ground.
Then, much to my horror, as Bernardo stood, like nothing happened. He turned his focus on me.
Stryker, lying on the floor, pulled something from his jacket. “Here, kid!”
The wooden stake sailed into my hands. Bernardo stopped. I raised the stake. I was close enough. All I had to do was plunge it down, hard and straight.
But I hesitated.
“Do it, Lacey!” yelled Stryker.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill him. Who was I to play executioner? I knew in my heart I wasn’t a killer.
The vampire, a stone cold monster, seized upon my weakness.
Bernardo lurched forward and slapped the stake out of my hand. It skittered across the floor. He grabbed and spun me around like I was some sort of shield. “Now what, Stryker? How much does she mean to you?”
“Her?” he said, sounding completely uninterested. “Keep her. I don't really need her, anyway.”
“Stryker!” I wasn't sure if he was serious or this was some sort of diversionary tactic. Either way, I didn’t like the direction of the conversation.
“Good,” Bernardo hissed as his fangs protruded from his gums. “Fresh unwilling blood is always better than this blood bar crap.”
The vampire’s cold fingers brushed the hair from my neck. I had about two more seconds of life before he sank his fangs into me.
Was Stryker really abandoning me?
Then, in a flash, Stryker grabbed a wooden chair, spun it upside down, snapping the leg off to create his own personal wooden stake.
Thank God he was actually going to do something.
Stryker was also faster and stronger than even a regular paranormal. He wasn't a vampire, but he seemed to be their equal.
The world clicked into slow motion as Stryker powered towards us, while Bernardo leaned closer ready to take a nice little bite out of me.
The race was on, and I was the prize.
But a tie didn't bode well for me, nor my future ability to walk on the earth during daylight hours.
I tried to throw an elbow, stomp on his foot. But he was so strong. I closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to see who won.
Suddenly, a loud boom sounded behind me. I opened my eyes as an exterior door exploded open. Daylight poured into the blood bank, illuminating the surroundings for the first time.
Man, this place was a dump.
A silhouetted figure in the doorway took a step forward. I blinked hard. “Sam!”
He pointed his gun at Bernardo. “LAPD. Drop the girl.”
The vampire laughed. “Go ahead, Officer. Shoot me.”
Unless they were wooden bullets, they wouldn’t affect Bernardo.
However, the distraction was enough for Stryker to fly forward, knocking Bernardo back and freeing me. The momentum of the impact threw me to the floor.
Trying to escape, Bernardo scrambled toward the open exterior door.
Sam, who didn't understand the threat he was facing, mistakenly tried to block Bernardo’s exit.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” he demanded.
When Bernardo charged, Sam fired his gun; but the regular bullets did no damage to the vampire. He posed no threat to Bernardo. Instead, the vampire, fangs still extended, grabbed Sam.
“Don’t do it, Bernardo!” yelled Stryker.
But it was too late. The vampire sneered, then sunk his teeth into Sam’s neck.
“No!” I screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
If there was a silver lining, it was that the terrible ordeal didn't last long. Bernardo sucked in Sam’s blood shockingly fast. The expression of total terror on poor Sam's face cracked my heart.
When he finished, the vampire just dropped Sam, weak and shivering and pale in a heap on the floor.
The vampire, his strength renewed by the infusion of human blood, fled into the Venice daylight, pulling his tattered sweatshirt over his head to shield his paper thin skin from the sun.
Sam was unconscious by the time he hit the ground.
“Sam!” I cried, scrambling across the room.
Stryker made his way over, fuming. “Tell me this joker is still alive.”
“Don’t call him a joker.” I rolled Sam over and felt for his pulse. It took forever to find the slow, faint rhythm of his heartbeat. “He’s alive. But fading.”
“Fantastic,” Stryker said, actually sounding relieved until he had to go and add, “The paperwork when a human dies is crazy.”
“Could you be more of a jackass?”
“Probably.” Then he asked, “I take it you know this joker?”
“Yes. No. Not really. He’s a cop. He’s been following me.”
“Why is he following you?”
“He’s suspicious about what Stroud and you guys are up to. But he doesn’t know anything concrete.”
“We need to get him to headquarters if he’s going to live. He’s got fifteen minutes, maybe less, to get a transfusion.”
My heart sank. “There’s no way we can make it downtown in fifteen minutes.” I stated the obvious. “At this time of day, the traffic will take over an hour.”
Even though the 10 Freeway was a straight shot from Santa Monica into downtown, it would be bumper to bumper.
Stryker scooped Sam up and hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “We’re not taking the freeway.”
I followed him, struggling to keep up. Stryker walked at a fast pace toward the business district a couple blocks away. It seemed as if Sam's bodyweight was nothing more than the equivalent of the sweater thrown over his shoulder.
I had no idea where he was going.
“What's the plan?” I called from behind him.
“You any good at animating?” he asked, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead.
I knew he didn't mean drawing cartoons. He meant making inanimate objects come to life.
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
Animating was a skill that every young witch or wizard learned. Sure, I could make a paperclip dance or a small stuffed animal walk around. My limited ability probably wouldn't be useful in this situation.
When we got to the corner of Ocean Avenue, a busy business district, Stryker looked around at our surroundings, eventually focusing on the four-story office building on the corner.
When I spotted the massive stone gargoyles at the top of the old brick-and-mortar bank building, I knew what he was going to do.
“You can't do that here,” I said. “Not in front of all these humans.”
He laid Sam on the sidewalk and pulled a sleek black fiberglass wand from the inside of his leather jacket.
So he was a wizard after all.
“Well, darling, my choice is to either let your boyfriend die or risk having a few humans marvel at my incredible spell casting abilities.”
He pointed his wand up at the far rooftop corner of the bank. “Vitro Vitales!”
Instantly, the brick and mortar at the top of the building crumbled away. Huge chunks of rock plummeted to the sidewalk. Regulars screamed and got out of the way as the pair of huge stone gargoyles came to life.
The massive statues were a cross between really ugly apes and maned lions with angular bat-like wings. Fully alive, the two gargoyles looked at each other and roared.
&n
bsp; I won’t lie. They were terrifying.
Stryker pointed his wand at them at commanded, “Venisse!”
Breaking free from the restraints of the brick and mortar building, even more hunks of stone rained down, pounding the street and sidewalk below.
The gargoyles spread their wings, pushed off the side of the building and flew down to us.
“What’s the plan?” I asked as the gargoyles lumbered closer. “What can I do?”
“You go with him back to Stroud. He’ll know what to do. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
“You want me to fly on one of these things?” I asked. “I’d rather turn into a bird and follow them back to headquarters.”
Stryker shook his head. “Unless you can become a peregrine falcon then you won’t be able to keep up.”
Peregrines were the fastest birds alive. Only a Class 4 animagus could become a falcon for long enough to fly downtown. The best I could probably conjure would be a mighty quick sparrow. And that wouldn’t have been fast enough.
“Get on.” Stryker pointed to one of the gargoyles as he gently laid Sam down in front of the other one.
My gargoyle stooped slightly, like a well-trained horse, allowing me to climb on his back.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, trying to get securely seated.
“I’ll stay here and clean up this mess. There’s a whole bunch of super-nothings that need a good mind wipe.”
Super-nothing was a derogatory term paranormals used for the regulars humans. Super-nothing or para-nothing. It meant they had no magic.
Stryker was going to erase what the humans had just seen. It wasn’t a difficult spell. A mind wipe was time consuming because you had to round them all up.
“Ready?” he asked while I was still trying to get settled. There really wasn’t a good place to hold on to the stone creature. The gargoyle’s back was hard and slick. Before I could answer, he swatted the gargoyle’s hind end. “Go on, girl!”
So the gargoyle was a female. That I would not have guessed.
The other gargoyle, holding Sam in his huge clawed talons, followed. I hoped the beast was being gentle.
