Black Magic

by D B Nielsen

  Weasel-face’s eyes narrowed as he leaped up to face Aislinn. He whipped out a shuriken, then another, throwing them at her in quick succession. But the daughter of Kayne easily avoided them.

  “Bitch, you’re gonna beg me—”

  “Don’t think so, asshole.” Aislinn shut him up with a series of bone-crunching punches, leaving him bloody and battered. She launched a quick kick at weasel-face’s balls, but the jacked-up vampire jumped back agilely. “If anyone’s gonna be begging, it’ll be you—for mercy.”

  “Vlad you, bitch. Missed me.” He laughed wildly and dove forward, both hands extended, but Aislinn sidestepped the brutal lunge and smashed her fist down in the middle of weasel-face’s back. He groaned and staggered about, but managed to roll clear of her follow-up blows, strategically positioning himself further out against the wall of the tunnel.

  “You were saying?” she taunted.

  Cole slowly edged away from the whirling fan blades, moving closer to the dueling fighters. He watched the two circling each other, chills running up his spine at the rage-filled look in the vampire thug’s eyes. This Sanguis was running on pure adrenaline, blood rage, and hate.

  “I’m gonna gut you, bitch,” Weasel-face threatened. “Then I’m gonna flay your chicken-shit friend here.”

  “Go ahead, if you can,” Aislinn invited with a provoking grin.

  Weasel-face darted forward and tried to recover his blade from the ground. Cole responded instinctively, kicking it further down the tunnel out of harm’s reach. It was an instinctive act of bravery that was also pure folly as he saw the blood rage spike in the vampire’s eyes.

  “You’ll pay for that.” The other Sanguis whirled toward Cole with both feet lashing out in a tornado kick, but Aislinn dove under him, blocking Cole from his kicks, deflecting the blows with her left forearm. As she rolled nimbly and came to her feet, her right hand flashed out and rammed home, catching weasel-face in the chest. He reeled from the blow but managed to knee Aislinn in the face as he spun away.

  With the back of her hand, she wiped away the trickle of blood from her already-healed nose. Her black eyes flashed angrily, but her voice was steady and deadly. “And you’ll pay for that.”

  His response was another uppercut aimed at her face, but Aislinn blocked it and slammed a decisive counterblow into the pit of her opponent’s solar plexus. As he fell backward from the force of her punch, he launched a low scissor kick, catching Aislinn unexpectedly and sweeping her legs out from under her.

  “Watch out, Aislinn!” Cole cried, but neither combatant paid any attention to him. The fight took all their concentration.

  Aislinn’s extraordinary reflexes kept her on her feet as the vampire tumbled across the rails. He sprang to his feet again in one lithe motion. He was extremely strong, suggesting he’d recently fed. The high from the drug-laced blood running through his system was quickening his reactions.

  Cole wondered why Aislinn didn’t finish him. She seemed in no hurry. It was as if she was venting her anger over the infant drug mules upon the rogue vampires at hand. Weasel-face was outclassed by his opponent, but he was in a drug-fueled frenzy, acting on animal instinct and savagery, his actions and technique unpredictable.

  Both Aislinn and weasel-face moved with lightning-quick actions as they attacked each other again, their hands dancing and parrying blows faster than Cole’s eyes could follow.

  With a smirk, weasel-face delivered a hard, right jab to Aislinn’s jaw, following it up immediately with a knee to her torso. It never made contact. Her hands flashed up, quick as lightning, and caught her adversary’s calf in a deadly, vise-like grip, and they rolled backward together toward the defunct ventilation shaft. Despite being jerked off balance, weasel-faced followed through the fall to coil his legs in readiness to spring backward in a flip.

  Aislinn had been anticipating this move.

  She gave him the extra kick for his aerial maneuver and launched the weaselly vampire up and backward with a tremendous power. The force of his action couldn’t be halted and with a strangled cry, arms flailing uselessly, weasel-face hurtled into the fan blades head first.

  His scream faded horribly as the fan blade sliced through his neck, flecks of blood and globs of brain splattering across the rusted metal and brick.

  “Oh, that’s gross,” Cole stated, dry retching. By now, he should have been used to Aislinn’s tendency for death by decapitation, but she always found new ways to surprise and shock him.

  “Highly effective,” Aislinn replied as she straightened out of her combat maneuver, glancing once at the still-twitching body with a clinical eye. “I might ask Benjamin to place one in the Abattoir, just for fun.”

  “Your idea of fun is very different from mine.” Cole didn’t need to add that her idea of fun was very different from most vampires. She didn’t seem to fear death like the rest of them.

  Aislinn shrugged. “It’s one thing that your boss and I can agree on, though he likes to torture his victims first. Maybe you should recommend railway spikes as well.” She looked over at him. His expression was blank. Inwardly, she sighed. The irony was lost on Cole. He truly believed his poetry was good—though it was only good for punishing people, which was why Styx had hired him.

  “C’mon, let’s keep moving. I’ll need to report this to the Atum Council when we get back, and they’re not going to like it, especially the illegal infant harvesting. As soon as we get out of here, I’ll call Benjamin and have him send a team down into the Underground. Maybe there’s still a chance to save some of them.”

  Walking back to where Cole stood trembling in the tunnel’s shadows, Aislinn picked up her skean from where it had fallen.

  She expected Cole to grab at her in relief, giving her a massive hug and exclaiming how he was going to compose an ode or ballad or whatever. Instead, he was nervously keeping his distance.

  He glanced at her weapon warily, backing away. “What’s up with that dagger?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “Why didn’t you catch it when I threw it to you? You could have put weasel-face out of your misery.”

  “No way, no chance,” Cole replied quietly. “I saw what it did to the other vampires. It turned them to dust. Poof. Gone. Vanished. Ashes in the air. Soot in the slipstream of time.” He was becoming poetical again.

  She made a wry face. “Oh yeah. Right. That.” She’d forgotten about that. Months ago, she’d had the same spooked reaction. Now, she just accepted what the blade did to her enemies as normal. Touching it didn’t harm her. She tossed the blade into the air to watch it spin and caught its hilt, repeating the gesture over and over, checking the blade’s balance.

  “Well, don’t wave it around me!” Cole yelped. “Just keep it to yourself.”

  Aislinn smirked. “Fine. Don’t be such a chickenshit.”

  Cole’s voice went up an octave. “I’m not a chickenshit. I just don’t like pointy things that can kill me. Like seraph blades, and cypress stakes, and—”

  “Toothpicks,” Aislinn teased.

  He shot her a dirty look. “Oh, ha ha. Very funny. So, did Benjamin supercharge it or something?”

  “No, not Benjamin. A—” She paused to consider her next words, choosing the safest explanation. “A friend. A weapons expert I met by chance.”

  By a stroke of luck, she didn’t have to explain further. Instead, she hurried him on.

  They saw a vampire vagrant, red eyed and mean looking, propped up against the graffitied tunnel wall. He stopped taking slugs from his bottle hidden in a brown paper bag long enough to observe them pass by. His eyes held suspicion and warning, flashing jet black, but he didn’t speak, nor did he approach them. He held his distance, even as his eyes followed them, boring into their backs until they were out of sight.

  Chapter 10

  Though Cole had never been to the Underground before, he could understand the allure as they continued walking. The sharp tang of blood infused the tunnels. Faint hints of it had been carried o
n the air since they had found the infant drug mules, but now, inhaling deeply, they could breathe in that intoxicating, metallic bouquet.

  At the entrance to another tunnel in a pool of harsh artificial light, a band of surly vampires stood blocking the path. Their bloodstained leathers, rust-spotted weapons, and the pile of bones picked clean by vermin suggested they were guarding their territory within the Underground. A fact confirmed by their speech.

  “What’s your business here?” one of them asked Aislinn before spitting on the ground in disdain.

  “That’s my business.” Aislinn’s curt reply was a deterrent to further questions. With Aislinn up front, oozing a “don’t fuck with me” attitude, and Cole now covered head to toe in blood, they looked like they belonged down here among the crooks and lowlifes.

  One of them, stout and quite hairy, snorted. “The Underground’s a big place. We wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you wandering around and getting lost. No telling what might happen.”

  “You can get lost,” Aislinn stated bluntly. “I’ll get around just fine.”

  He chuckled with condescension. “You pay for your passage down here. What have you got to offer us to let you go through?” He leered lasciviously at her.

  “Nothing. Stanislav’s got my back.” She smiled, producing her paperclip, even though she knew she shouldn’t need it. Her incisors elongated menacingly as she stepped into the light.

  Her pale hair appeared almost white. Her appearance was ghostly. At this, several of the vampire warders immediately backed off.

  One or two cast a wary look her way, muttering among themselves like an incantation. “Baba Yaga.”

  The lecherous vampire ignored his companions. He gave a cruel smile and scratched at his thick black beard as if in deep thought, threatening, “Seems to me we have a problem here. That just won’t wash. Here, we’re the law. Stanislav’s no friend of ours. His word means nothing in these parts.”

  “Is that so?” she asked sharply, pocketing her paperclip.

  “Yep, that’s so. That commie bastard’s not the boss of me and mine. No sirree.” The arrogant creature lost his smile as he stared at them. “Way I see it, Stanislav ain’t around to protect you, Daughter of Kayne. That’s right. I know who you are. All I see is that lapdog at your heels, and he don’t scare me none.”

  “Is that so?” Her tone was sharper as she repeated her question—and ice cold, enough to freeze beer. “Fierce words, but I’ve heard a lot of fierce words from many foolish men.” Aislinn’s smile widened. It wasn’t reassuring. “If you apologize and let us through, I’ll let you keep your tongue.”

  The stout vampire listened about as well as Cole did.

  He swung forcefully with his left arm, but he swung high. She ducked her head, avoiding his fist easily while she waited for the second swing to follow up the first. It came in fast and low, toward her abdomen. Again, she slid to the side. She grabbed his forearm to pin it behind his back and, using his momentum, swiveled him around to now face his companions. They hadn’t moved a muscle to help him.

  The ironlike blow she gave punched through the tattooed flesh under his jaw and up into soft sinew. The vampire made a gurgling sound of protest. It was immediately cut off. When she pulled her hand back out, she was clutching the vampire’s lolling tongue and half of his bloody trachea in her small fist. That much damage was irreparable. A vampire couldn’t grow back body parts that were vital to their continued existence. His eyes rolled back into his head. She let him drop, and his body collapsed on the ground. It never got back up.

  Behind her, she heard Cole gag. Two of the other guards lost their lunch, moaning about “poor motherfucker Pete” whom she presumed was their now-silenced companion.

  Still holding the gruesome object, she placed her other hand on her hip and looked them over. “Anyone else wish to say something?” She paused for a heartbeat. They remained silent, except for the interminable retching. “Nope, didn’t think there was anything to add.”

  The chorus of gagging continued. After what seemed like minutes, but was really only a few seconds, they finally stopped long enough for Aislinn to get a word in.

  “Enough of this crap.” She shifted stance. “Seeing as you lot so kindly offered to guarantee safe passage down here, you can take us to the Praetorian. I have some business with him. And you.” She pointed to a tall, square-jawed Sanguis who seemed less stupid than the others. “I want you to deliver a message to Stanislav for me. Tell him he was right.”

  The square-jawed Sanguis looked at her as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, high up on his no-go list along with sunbathing, eating fire, and swallowing holy water. She rolled her eyes.

  “I think you’ve misunderstood.” Aislinn tossed Pete’s silenced tongue at them. It landed on someone’s boots, splattering blood and gore like a dead fish and starting a fresh round of gagging. “It wasn’t open for discussion, boys. Move it.”

  But it took several more moments for them to recover enough to move it—and several more after that for Cole to.

  The Underground was saturated with the smell of blood and the rank detritus of criminal dealings—drugs, sex, and dead things. They proceeded down several tunnels cautiously. More clusters of vampires nestled further in, some doing trade. Gold coins changed hands, along with human blood—especially type AB, the highest form of currency in the Underground, coveted for its rarity. These vampires didn’t care for Kayne, nor the Atum Council, nor Primus Julius and his coven. Blood and gold were all that mattered to them. And staying alive long enough to enjoy them both.

  As the motley group passed, some dealers and merchants watched, idly curious or hopeful, until it became obvious that Aislinn and her companions weren’t going to stop, and then they went back to their own concerns.

  After about a mile, the muttering began as their guides calmed down enough to realize where they were headed and with whom, and that she’d sent a member of their organization most probably to his imminent death at the hands of the Russian mafia boss.

  “I thought only shifters tore out your throat.”

  “Baba Yaga,” another whispered. “She’s the daughter of the devil himself. Maybe she can shapeshift.”

  “Shh, she’ll hear you,” his companion cautioned. “Do you want to end up like Pete?”

  “It was an improvement on his ugly face,” another feebly joked, trying to lessen the tension. “Though it would make feeding on humans harder without a tongue or throat.”

  Behind them, Aislinn smiled with a certain smugness. Having this kind of reputation in the Underground was pure gold—better, it was AB human blood. A badass reputation wasn’t something you could just buy.

  She enjoyed it hugely. It would make things easier the next time she ventured into the Underground.

  One of the guides stopped to turn around. He was huge and heavy, with a florid face that held open curiosity. “Back there. You mentioned business with the Praetorian. You know the Praetorian personally? You’re friends?”

  The others paused, shocked that he’d dared to question her. They held their collective, needless breath and waited for her response.

  She nonchalantly shrugged. She could have ignored his question, but she chose to answer. “I know him as well as I’d like. He was banished from the London Coven, disavowed by its head for his transgressions. He’s no friend of mine.”

  Up ahead, one of the men chuckled, finding some amusement in her response.

  Cole looked at Aislinn out of worried eyes. His face paled even more than usual, and he swallowed hard. “I don’t much like the sound of that. If he’s not a friend, then what exactly is he? A business acquaintance? Ex-lover? Frenemy?”

  She shrugged. “More like enemy. He was always a bit of a douchebag.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that,” Cole conceded on a groan of pain.

  The silver-haired vampire chuckled again. “Don’t surprise me none. He’s got a lot of enemies but not too many friends.”
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  “None, by my reckoning,” another agreed.

  “Well, I can’t say much about the company he keeps,” the florid-faced vampire said candidly as the others nodded in response. “You don’t make friends down here by consorting with the other races. Stick to your own kind, I say. No good will ever come of interracial relationships.”

  “Hey!” one of them protested. “Don’t be such a bigot.”

  “Oh, for Vlad’s sake, Mike. No one’s talking about your midnight ventures into TransAlley.” The others snickered at the mention of the notorious red-light district where any sexual pleasure with any species was available for the right price.

  “His girlfriend’s a dog.” They all laughed at the coarse joke—all but Mike.

  “Vlad you, Jerry. At least she’s not a Sookie Stackhouse fangbanger.” Mike’s response was followed up with a vicious stabbing of the loudmouthed vampire, Jerry, in the heart—which was completely purposeless since vampires couldn’t be killed with ordinary silver daggers. The most it did was cause Mike’s companion a temporary discomfort as the wound almost immediately healed over. A slight scuffle between the two men followed.

  “Cut it out, you boneheads. Stop fighting among yourselves.” The heavy-set vampire spat on the ground. “I’m telling you, those dark mages are putting the rest of us out of business and driving us against one another. Motherfuckers.”

  Forgetting that Aislinn and Cole were surface dwellers, their disgruntlement dimmed common sense and discretion. There was a lot of grumbling about the “stranglehold” and “monopoly” the dark mages had now. According to the gang, the dark mages were “corrupt crime lords”, rapidly increasing their powerbase, using their dark arts and foul practices to squeeze other criminal organizations out of a lucrative market.

  Aislinn thought it ironic but wisely chose to remain silent.

  There were laws in the Underground that were known only to those who lived and traded down here. It was a different world from the surface and its eleven official vampire covens. A dangerous, dark world. The Underground was crime central. Unfortunately, it was also where real power in the form of Black Magic could be found.