“Right. Whatever,” she said, shaking her head.
“And now,” I said as I cleared my throat, “I must be on my way as my work here is finished for the evening. I am quite like the bat creature of the night, am I not?”
“You mean Batman?”
“I do.”
“No, you’re nothing like Batman, Bram.”
“I feel I am quite similar,” I answered with a shrug. “Defending the helpless…”
“I’m hardly helpless.”
“And punishing those who deserve it,” I finished.
She glanced down at those who had received my wrath. “They’re all cops and now I’m probably going to have to take the heat for this.”
“Just tell them it was me, sweet,” I answered. “I will answer for in their human courts.”
“Right,” she said with disbelief as she sighed.
“Adieu, my sweet.”
Raising my hands, I prepared to wrap myself in the shadows and disappear—but we both went stiff at once.
“Do you feel that?” I asked, referring to a dramatic shift in the air. Something as vibrant as electricity seemed to erupt from the bottom of the ocean. Distant and muffled, it seemed very desperate to emerge.
And worse still, it was achingly familiar.
“Yeah,” said Dulcie. Her eyes flashed red, indicating her vampirism was in high gear. It acted as a protective mechanism that I’m sure she didn’t appreciate fully.
A moment later, a sound accompanied the uncanny feeling. An actual scream was followed by a series of gunshots.
“Shit,” said Dulcie as she turned her gaze towards the empty sky where the gunshots came from. “I have to check that out.”
“Allow me to accompany you,” I said—perhaps too eagerly.
“Yeah, but no,” she replied with a look of derision over her shoulder that might have turned a lesser man to stone. “You’re done with following me for the night.”
She almost sounded amused but perhaps that was my imagination.
“Why do you insist I was following you?” I demanded. “I really was not.”
She said nothing, but raised her brows at me. It managed to make me hesitate, however briefly. Dulcie and I were, miraculously, now of a common ilk—and she was more than capable of matching her stare with a stinging slap I could actually feel.
“I can only be of service to you,” I said. “If I become a liability, just say so.”
“You’re a liability.”
I cleared my throat. “I meant, during our investigation, sweet.”
She grumbled something while thinking it over, and eventually decided she could never have too much fodder in her defense. “Fine,” she said, the shadows swimming at her feet as she prepared to dematerialize. “You do whatever you have to.”
The shadows rose around her, swarmed, shrank, and abruptly vanished over the buildings into the blinking starlight. A gust of cold wind lay in her wake, her shadows and mine blowing all the warmth from the air away.
I followed her a moment later, of course. She expected nothing less.
###
I materialized on a red tile rooftop in a nearby suburb—one I instantly recognized as belonging to Samantha White, Dulcie’s beloved wicca. The air felt cold here, chillier than any breeze one would expect to enjoy at night in California. The empty street was barely illuminated by the dim, orange lights, allowing the patch of sky Dulcie was staring at with unbridled animation and fervor to be more easily distinguishable.
I followed her gaze. “Well. That’s less than ideal.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she agreed.
Hanging in the sky—or perhaps floundering is more descriptive—something was doing all it could to drown itself in the air, if such a thing were possible. The unique beast possessed wide, arcing wings and a long, lashing tail. It kept screaming loudly, along with the silhouette of the prey it had clutched in its talons. A sudden flash was accompanied by a loud bang, and I realized the silhouette held a gun, although it seemed incapable of using it.
“Do we know him?” I asked, pointing at the poor wretch.
“I don’t know, can’t tell from here,” said Dulcie.
I looked between her and the monster now writhing in the sky. The hollow lightning sensation felt much more powerful here than back on the street. “Do you think perchance this beast came here for you?” I inquired. The most singular and scary ones almost always were looking for Dulcie.
“Fuck, probably,” Dulcie answered wearily. Holding shadows and fire in her hands, she was looking for an angle, an open shot, I supposed, but the pair moved so quickly that even I had trouble seeing them.
Now that I think more about it, I was having trouble in seeing the monster at all. The rest of the world, however, despite being cloaked in the mantle of night, was crystal clear. Every detail of every house on the street and car and stray animal stood out in my mind, perfectly clear in every aspect, owing to my vampiric eyes. The monster, however, remained a silhouette against the starless sky, and barely visible at that.
“It feels like Meg,” Dulcie remarked.
“It does indeed,” I agreed. The foul feeling felt much stronger here, and I had absolutely no doubt this beast was the product of Meg’s evil mind—or the dangerous powers she routinely called upon.
“Dulcie!”
We both looked down and saw Samantha stumbling out of her house before waving at us from the street. She was wearing pajama pants and a purple top, her hair still tangled as though she quite recently arose from her bed. At this distance, I could hear her heart pounding with all the fury of a tropical thunderstorm. Her hand was wreathed in flames, and crackling madly. Her eyes glowed as well, although that may have been a trick of the light.
In the large and expanding realm of Dulcie’s friends, only Samantha had a fair reason to find me detestable—and I predicted she would give me all kinds of hell for being spotted in the company of her beloved Dulcie. Nearly everyone knew I embraced a sincere affection for the fairy. To avoid unnecessary conflict, I made myself smaller, shrinking into the shadows so Samantha would not see me.
Yes, in hindsight, it seems a remarkably childish reaction, but I digress...
“It’s Meg!” shouted Samantha. She meant that the monster had the same coarse aura that all of Meg’s nightmarish magic possessed. Or perhaps she thought the winged beast was Meg herself? I doubted that though. Meg could transform into many things, but she was never incompetent at any of them. And that thing in the sky was having a hell of a time trying to kill whoever was clutched in its talons. “I know,” Dulcie shouted back, staring at the apparition defiantly. “Apparition” was a fitting word, too. It appeared to be no more than a puff of smoke with leathery wings like a bat. There were more flashes and more bangs before the winged smoke-beast screeched a terrific scream—without dropping the tiny silhouette.
All at once, I grew more certain that the silhouette as the admirable Special Agent Casey James. But the question remained: how had he managed to be scooped up by an angry, arcane something-or-other?
“Dulcie, it has Casey!” Samantha shouted.
Aha! And there you have it! I am nothing if not an accurate witness in times of crisis.
“Fuck!” said Dulcie, “Okay, okay, um…”
“By any chance, can you fly?” I asked Dulcie.
“No,” she said. “You?”
“Hardly,” I answered. “Although I am a rather excellent jumper.”
“Do you think you can jump high enough to grab that thing or at least to help get Casey away from it?”
I looked up and found the creature spinning closer to us with every second. I estimated it would be directly above us in a moment or two. The pervasive smell of blood was rank, mixed with something sulphuric, like rotting eggs, which I attributed to the creature. It most likely carried the stink of whatever ancient cesspool Meg dragged it from.
“We shall see.”
When the beast moved directly above us, I be
nt my knees and leapt into the air.
It had been quite a while since I had any reason to leap. Vampires are not particularly known for their skills in jumping, but my absurd strength includes many abilities, and jumping is only one of dozens.
Launching myself off the roof as hard and fast as I could, with four hundred years of nourishment from pure hemoglobin coursing through my veins—I slammed face-first into a furry and extremely odorous torso.
I grabbed my first fistful of fur and clung to desperately. Its bat-like wings battered me relentlessly as its talons scratched my chest with rage and fury. The blood I lost was inconsequential, but the beast’s claws were so sharp, I scarcely felt them entering my flesh. Now that I was up close and personal, however, the smoky effect seemed to clear, and I could begin to detect its almost human shape. Darkness clung to it like a frightened child, giving it the effect of wet glass in its lack of definition. Its shape became more pronounced, but it remained rather vague. Mostly it was comprised of fur and an overly ripe stench.
I have not gagged for decades, maybe even centuries; my stomach lost the ability to digest after hundreds of years in retirement. However, the human reflex remained active, and I was doing my damnedest to restrain the urge to vomit.
A hand landed on the back of my leg and I looked down and saw the outline of Agent James. There was a massive black claw impaled deeply into his shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound as the monster rose and fell, readjusting its grip on its hostage and at the same time, trying but failing to drop him. One leg suddenly spasmed and kicked out, as if it were shaking off a bug, but its claws only gripped its prey more tightly. Agent James began screaming rather loudly as a result.
What now? I thought. Then the bright solution appeared to me. I reached up and grabbed the beast’s head, snapping it sideways with all the strength I could manage.
Not the best solution, as it turned out.
The monster growled a horrific noise and I reached for the fur on the back of its head. I dug my nails into its thick skin, scoring it deeply and the blood that flowed smelled foul, like a bog, all acrid and muddy. Squeezing its grip once again on the unfortunate Agent James, who could only scream louder, the wings continued to buffet and batter me. With its free leg, it grabbed my ankle, and began pulling with all its strength. It managed to tug me down just barely an inch and it lowered its head with me.
I worked my fingers into the back of its skull until I scraped the bone under my nails. It squealed like never before, a shrill bleating like the sound of iron scraping over glass. A thick, purplish-black cloud gushed out from between its teeth, sucking out all the air and smothering us. It filled my lungs like quarry dust, and clung to the sides of my throat. My lungs were little more than sentimental ornaments now, but I heard Agent James coughing below me.
“Hold on tightly!” I shouted, although I doubt he needed any encouragement from me. The monster’s shrieks far surpassed human hearing and I could scarcely think.
Pulling back on the monster’s head, I managed to tear out part of its skull. The sound of its skull cracking was as loud as a hovering thunderclap. The pathetic screaming ended abruptly. The wings stopped flapping and the creature’s terrible claws curled inward. The ones embedded in Agent James’s shoulder all but ripped his arm off.
Then, together, we fell.
I shook the blood and brains off my hand and reached down, tearing the leg clean off the monster, and Agent James along with it. “Try to hold on,” I shouted and he nodded. I wrapped my arms around him and leapt into the air.
The monster crashed to the ground, nearly fracturing the entire street. Agent James and I were not far behind it. I carried the agent in my arms and landed on my feet, bending my knees to absorb the impact as best I could. Agent James did little more than gasp and groan.
I carefully put him down and noticed his glasses had remarkably remained on his face. One of the lenses was cracked and the other was gone altogether. He was wearing a pair of jeans and conspicuously shirtless. His manly physique glinted in the orange lamplight—particularly where he was oozing blood.
“Oh, dear,” I said as I started towards him. The monster’s claw was still attached to his arm and shoulder like a torturous fishing lure. With every breath he took, I could hear the talon scraping against his bones. He tried to remain utterly still to avoid more pain. “You should sit, my friend.”
Agent James began to laugh and immediately collapsed to the ground. Samantha ran to his side at once, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder.
“What could possibly be amusing you?” I asked as I approached him.
“I never figured you for a do gooder,” he answered.
I shrugged as this was a new role for me as well.
I knelt beside him to examine his ghastly wound. His blood had a pleasant aroma, one that might have become intoxicating if not for the overwhelming stench of the dead beast behind me. Samantha looked at me. There was surprise in her eyes.
“You are the witch,” I said. “Any recommendations?”
“I’m no battlefield medic,” she snapped. I saw the tears in her eyes, staining her cheeks in long shimmering lines. She must have endured a very long night.
“Of course,” I said. “Please accept my apologies.”
“You are lucky the talons failed to puncture any major veins or arteries,” I informed Agent James. “A fair number of minor veins and tissue have been damaged. Not any that are life-threatening.”
“Thank God,” Samantha said on a sigh.
“We must remove the claw before we can clean and bind the wound. It appears to be nothing more complicated than that.” I turned to Samantha and asked, “Do you have any bandages, my darling?”
“Don’t ever call me that,” she warned before adding, “and yes, I’ll get them.”
“My apologies. Would you also be so kind as to include any rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide or similar wound-cleaning agent? Whatever you might have in the house.”
She blinked at me, frowning. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll be back.” She stood up and hurried off, exchanging a visibly confused look with Dulcie as she went inside. “Did he just apologize?” Samantha asked Dulcie in a meek voice.
“Yeah, it threw me too,” Dulcie answered.
Are apologies so rare coming from me? I wondered. They both reacted as if it were a cosmic event…
Hmm.
“This will be remarkably unpleasant,” I cautioned Agent James.
TEN
Bram
Samantha emerged from the house a moment later. She was carrying a roll of first-aid gauze and tape and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. While she was gone, Dulcie said nothing, appearing totally lost in her observation of the now still beast. Wrapped in the smothering darkness, it was inert, and the fuzzing effect was substantially diminished now. I could see its hands and claws with relative clarity, and the orange lamplight glimmered off its teeth and eyes, but there was little more to describe than that.
Dulcie was stroking her chin, pondering the sight more thoroughly than I’ve ever seen her, and looking very confused.
“Are you all right, sweet?” I asked her.
“Fine,” she said absently then she looked up at me with renewed interest. “You can feel this too, right, Bram?”
“If you mean the palpable aura of dread, doom, and imminent destruction wrapped up in sugar-sweet despair? Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Yeah, that too, but I was referring to…” She frowned, and began hugging herself. “There’s something else. Something much stronger. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.”
I swallowed—another human impulse I never managed to discard, along with blinking, breathing, and groaning whenever someone did something blatantly stupid.
“Meg,” I answered.
Dulcie turned on me in an instant, her eyes wide. “Yes.”
The sensation of Meg’s magic was much stronger now, which meant, whatever it was might be edging closer, gaining ground
in our reality, if indeed it came from Somewhere Else. At this point, I had trouble believing it could have been anything but Meg’s doing.
Naturally, that made it a very bad thing for the rest of us.
“Bram, that means Meg is still alive,” Dulcie continued.
“Give me a moment,” I responded to her as I turned to Agent James. “Try to remain as still as possible. Samantha, hold his hand. Do you have a stick or a bit of leather for him to bite down on?”
“Just do it,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Suit yourself, good sir. I will count to three.” I examined the first of four claws with my hand—three toes pointing forwards, and one pointing backwards, similar to a bird, however, each one of these was thrice as thick as any of my fingers. “Try not to bite off your tongue.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he said.
“Grand. One,” I announced as I pulled the first claw from his shoulder.
Agent James predictably screamed. “Hey! You said you would—”
“Two.” I pulled out the second claw with a gush of blood. “Three.” The third did not come out so easily. It was curled more than the others, and stubbornly lodged behind his collarbone.
“You said you’d count to three first!” he gasped in protest.
“That is exactly what I did.”
“Not exactly,” he started.
“Brace yourself,” I interrupted as I began to pull the last one out as quickly as I could manage, also drawing more blood in the process. Agent James grunted, clenching his teeth tightly.
“Careful or you might break a molar.” I moved behind him to reassess the claw’s position and sucked in a deep breath. This one was a sight to behold, entering the center of his shoulder and emerging from the top like an oversized, tasteless body piercing.
“Ah,” I said.
“What?” Agent James asked, smelling strongly of fresh perspiration now.
“What’s wrong?” said Samantha, but when she glanced up, she saw the problem plainly. “Oh. Casey, look at me.”
“That sounds good,” he muttered, turning to face her.
What Screams May Come Page 11
