by Craig Zerf
Emily had arrived early, perhaps ten minutes before the boutique opened, and she had sat in the window seat of the coffee shop across the street. She nursed two coffees for just over an hour and then left and took a similar seat in a vegetarian snack bar adjacent to the shop that she was scoping out.
A yoghurt and a carrot juice later she noticed a short, sturdy Jamaican man walk past the boutique, his dreads ensconced in an oversized black beanie with a Rasta stripe. This was the second time that she had seen him so she decided to get up and follow. Leaving handful of change on the table, she walked out.
The Rastaman walked slowly but steadily, never looking back or to the side, his eyes straight ahead and his pace measured. After ten minutes he took a left turn. Then another, before he stopped in front of a matt black door recessed into the front of what looked to be a nightclub. The windows painted black and the exterior, a dark shade of midnight blue.
There was no neon signage or overt advertisements but, using her enhanced eyesight, Emily could make out a discreet brass plaque next to the door.
Club Haile Selassie – Members Only.
The man pushed a button next to the door and waited. It swung open to reveal a dark corridor and, before he went inside, the Rasta turned to Emily and motioned to her.
She hesitated slightly and then ran across the street and allowed herself to be ushered through the door which was closed behind her.
‘How you know about Ben Johnson day?’ Asked a voice in the darkness.
Emily smiled. ‘I remember things,’ she replied. ‘You know that.’ She threw her arms around the lithe Jamaican Shadowhunter who was standing in the gloom. ‘You’re alive,’ she said.
‘You too,’ laughed Bastian as he stood back from her. ‘You looking good, girl.’ He punched her upper arm. ‘Man, rock solid. You been hitting the gym?’
Em nodded, her expression serious. ‘I’m not the little girl that you knew a month ago.’
Bastian’s face darkened. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Some bad stuff be going down.’
He turned and walked down the corridor, beckoning for Em to follow. They walked into a large wood paneled room, a fireplace on the one wall, large windows that looked out onto an enclosed courtyard. Em noticed with amusement that the courtyard had multiple pots growing marijuana plants in them.
There was a long table in the centre of the room and on it was an impressive array of firearms. Semi auto pistols, massive revolvers, mac-10 submachine guns and even an AK47 assault rifle. Piles of ammunition lay scattered casually across the surface and Em could see, by the way the light reflected off the bullets, that the ammo was all silver tipped.
There were six men sitting in the room and all but one stood up when Emily entered.
‘These are my peeps,’ said Bastian. He introduced them to Em, pointing to each as he called out their names. ‘Tagereg, Stakkie, Qwenga, Banton and Samfy.’ He pointed at the man who remained seated. ‘That be Don Dada, the big boss of the place. He don’t stand so good on account of been crippled.’
Don Dada looked the spit of BB King and he laughed out loud.
‘Now, Bastian boy, I told you I don’t be liking that word, “cripple”. I be challenged in the working limbs department, that’s all. So don’t be introducing me as no cripple, boy.’
‘Ah, feel no way, Dada,’ replied Bastian. ‘I say what I say with love and respect.’
Emily smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you mister Dada.’
Don Dada grinned back, showing a row of perfect white teeth and a sizable quantity of gold caps. ‘Me no mister to you, lil-girl,’ he said. ‘You just call me Dada and we gets along fine.’
Em nodded. ‘Unusual names you all got,’ she noted. ‘I’m Emily. Bastian calls me Em so I suppose that you all will as well.’
The man who went by the moniker of Stakkie nodded. ‘Those ain’t be our real names,’ he explained. ‘They be our street names.’
‘Yeah,’ confirmed Bastian. ‘Stakkie is slang for Mental Case. Tagereg means Criminal. Qwenga is Gangster. Banton is Storyteller and Samfy, Con Man.’
Apart from Bastian and Stakkie who had shown them in, the other four men were all six foot five or six. Tall, well muscled and rangy with a palpable well of aggression and arrogance that Emily found both dangerous and attractive.
She could tell straight away that these were men that were quick to smile and easy to anger. A heady combination and one that would keep anyone on their toes.
‘Anyways,’ said Bastian. ‘Sit. We’ve called out for pizza and soda. Now we need to catch up.’
They all sat down but before Em spoke she cast a guarded look at Bastian. He nodded to her. ‘The boys know all,’ he said. ‘They may be Yardies that treat the law a little looser than most but they hate the blood suckers for real. You ask any island boy and he’ll tell you that he ain’t got no truck with monsters or zombies or voodoo.’
‘That be correct,’ confirmed Dada. ‘We sees that crap and we take it out,’ he pat the AK47 assault rifle on the table. ‘We got the tools and we got the skills. Those vamps must learn that the night time streets belong to the Yardies, not the leeches.’
There was a chorus of rumbling agreement from the collected men.
So Em told them her story.
After she had finished Bastian let out a slow, low whistle. ‘Man, you have had a freaky few weeks,’ he said. ‘Bloodborn, shapeshifters. Going on the run and hiding. I see that you’re wearing your Shadowhunter outfit now.’
Em nodded. ‘That’s because I’m not hiding anymore. I’m hunting.’
The Yardies shouted their approval. ‘Cool,’ said Bastian. ‘So what’s the plan?’
Em shrugged. ‘Haven’t got one. I thought that I’d leave that bit up to you, seeing as you’re about a million years old and I’m barely a teenager.’
‘Steady,’ said Bastian.
Tagareg laughed. ‘Dat be true,’ he said. ‘Grandpa Bastian be make us all like little pickney boys he be so old.’
Bastian shook his head. ‘Hey Tagareg, go easy on the patois, right? I mean you went to Oxford University and got a first in English.’
Tagareg shrugged. ‘So? I speak how I speak.’ ‘Well speak normal,’ said Bastian. ‘At least until Emily learns the lingo. But we need to make a plan. One thing, the vamps must be hurting big time right now. The Shadowhunters and your boys, Sir William and Sylvian, have iced over seventy of them, so I can guarantee that you’ll all be top of the most hated list right now.’
Em shook her head. ‘Not William or Sylvian,’ she stated. ‘The vamps have no idea that William’s a shifter and as far as they’re concerned, Sylvian doesn’t even exist.’
‘Whoa,’ interjected Tagareg. ‘So what you’re saying is that the vamps reckon that you are pretty much wholly responsible for taking out a huge percentage of their standing force. Man,’ he continued. ‘I wouldn’t give long odds on your survival. They’re gonna come after you with everything that they got, girl.’
‘Shut it, Tag,’ warned Bastian. ‘I won’t have any of that negative talk here, okay?’
‘You want me to shut it, why don’t you make me,’ growled Tag as he stood up, topping out at almost a foot taller than Bastian.
The Shadowhunter raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? You want to go there again? Ain’t you sick of me beating your ass to a pulp every time that you try this crap?’
Tag shrugged. ‘Maybe this time I get lucky. Whatever, I’m not accustomed to backing down, so face up, man. Let’s go round and round and see what happens.’
Emily stood up, walked over to Tag and, without warning, she punched him in the chest. The big man took off like he’d been hit by a monster truck, flying across the room and smashing into the wall so hard that chunks of plaster chipped off. Then he slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor in an untidy heap, his limbs twitching as he lapsed into unconsciousness.
‘Look here,’ said Emily. ‘We don’t have time for any of this macho bullshit. Out there are hundreds of blood suckers. Th
ey killed our friends. They’re looking for us and they aren’t going to stop there. If they find the corona potestatem who knows what they’ll do next. This isn’t just about us. It’s about the whole of humanity.’
The Yardies stared at the young Shadowhunter and finally Dada spoke. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘That child jus whipped Tag’s ass big time. I reckon dat we make a plan before she get physical wid the rest of us.’
Bastian grinned. ‘You speak the truth, Don Dada.
Best we get our thinking caps on or Em is gonna tear our arms off and beat us to death with the sticky ends.’
Em stuck her tongue out at Bastian and then sat down. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s make a plan. I reckon that we should get hold of William and Sylvian. See how they can help.’
There was an uncomfortable silence until Don Dada spoke. ‘We don’t want hang with no monsters,’ he said. ‘Damn vampire and werewolf.’
‘He’s a bloodborn,’ countered Em. ‘And William is a shapeshifter.’
‘Sure,’ said Dada. ‘But if it looks like a tiger and acts like a tiger then I learned long ago that you better not pull its tail, or the damn thing will chew your head off. Listen, girly, I don’t mind my people helps to hunt down the dark ones but don’t ask me to team up wid de monsters. We Yardies fight the good fight but we does it alone.’
There was a groan from the corner and Tag pulled himself slowly to his feet. He shook his head and looked around the room. ‘Man,’ he grunted. ‘I just been smashed by a little girl sized truck. Damn, babe, where’d you learn to punch like that?’
‘I’m not your babe, Tagareg,’ snapped Emily. ‘Now are you going to behave?’
‘If I don’t are you gonna beat up on me some more?’
Em nodded. ‘For sure.’
Okay,’ answered Tag. ‘Then I’ll behave. But I’m still going to have to agree with the boss man.
We don’t work with no monsters. Period.’
‘Well then have you got any better suggestions?’ Asked Em.
‘Sure. It’s simple. We get our street merchants to keep an eye out for vamp-whores. Then we follow them to the suck-fest and kill their masters.’
‘Not sure that I understood that completely,’ admitted Em.
‘It’s a good idea,’ interjected Bastian. ‘What Tag is saying is that we get our merchants, the dudes that sell our ganga on the streets, to keep an eye out for familiars. Young guys and girls that are looking to hang out with the vamps. As soon as we get a line on them, we follow them back to their master’s hang out and when the vamps are feeding we attack and kill them.’
‘You can do that?’ Asked Em.
‘Sure,’ affirmed Tag. ‘We got hundreds of salesmen. And there be many Goths and Vamp- lovers out there. We just keep a track on all of them and pretty soon one of them will lead us to a nest. Bish, bash, bosh – we go and machine gun the leeches to death. Then we just keep doing that. Wash, rinse, repeat.’
‘I like it,’ said Em. ‘It’s simple.’
‘Yeah,’ laughed Bastian. ‘Like Tagareg.’
Tag didn’t laugh. ‘Yeah, Bastian,’ he said. ‘You just been all cheeky ’cause you know that the little girl will tear Tag a new asshole if he beats on you.’
Bastian laughed louder and Tag had the decency to join in.
Chapter 28
