Blood and Bullets (16 page)
14
Everybody was gathered around the prep table in the kitchen. When it wasn't being used for prep, the employees used it for a table to eat on. Martin, the cook, had the day off with the girls. Polecats was still closed until we got this mess settled. It should be over by tomorrow, but in the meantime, no employees. Well, except for Tiff, I guess. Kat and Father Mulcahy didn't count. They work for the club, but only because it is part of what I do. They were in for the mission. The big mission of killing monsters.
But because the cook was out, the meal was up to me. Father Mulcahy made a mean pot of chili and did fine with spaghetti, but Kat was hopeless in the kitchen. Left to her own, I am sure she would never cook more than a microwave meal. I actually like to cook. I don't get to often, but I can, and when I do I enjoy it. I used to love Thanksgiving. I would invite both families over and we would have a houseful of guests that I cooked a traditional southern meal for. My kids loved the million dollar pie and red velvet cake. Now they would never ...
STOP!
I came back to what we were doing with a jolt. Years after and I keep doing that.
Focus.
The here. The now.
Breathe.
Relax.
I felt eyes on me and looked over at Tiff. She was staring at me. Looking into her eyes, I knew she caught what was going on in my head. Maybe not the details, but that something had gone wrong. She gave me a soft smile and then looked away. I looked down at my plate and scooped up another forkful of scrambled eggs covered in cheese and salsa. Chewing mechanically, I swallowed and washed it down with a swallow of sweet tea.
Sweet tea is a southern thing. It is the nectar of the gods. You take five tea bags, boil them in a pot, and then let them sit on the stove to steep for an hour. Grab your two-gallon pitcher and put two inches of sugar in the bottom. Pour the tea over it and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then add cold water from the tap until the pitcher is full. Viola, southern-style sweet tea. It goes with every kind of food ever made and can be drank for a snack. Folks from the North don't have sweet tea. They always try to get you to just add sugar to unsweet tea, but it doesn't work that way. It's not the same.
So I had whipped up some breakfast for everybody, even though it was midafternoon. Breakfast is a good, hearty meal that you can cook pretty quick. Scrambled eggs with cheese, ham heated in the microwave, biscuits from a can, and sweet tea.
I ate and Tiff ate. Father Mulcahy leaned on the doorway and drank coffee. I knew for a fact it was not his first cup; hell, I was pretty sure it was not his first pot. Father Mulcahy does coffee really well, which is a good thing, because he drinks it all day long. He was holding a saucer that held his coffee cup when he wasn't drinking and also served as an ashtray for his ever-present menthol cigarette. He is the only man I have ever seen who could take a sip of coffee with a cigarette in his mouth.
Kat had eaten already and nibbled on a biscuit slathered with butter and honey. She was leaning back in her chair with her feet on the edge of the table. She was wearing cutoff shorts and a Sepultura shirt that was older than she was.
Tiff was sitting across the table from Kat. She ate eggs with salsa and no ham. When she passed on the ham the explanation was that she was a vegetarian. Kat had asked why she was eating eggs, then, if she didn't eat meat. Smiling, she replied, “I don't kill animals for food, but I am pro-choice.”
That caused Father Mulcahy to suffer from a coughing attack. I didn't know if he was choking on his coffee or if it was from the cigarette smoke.
Larson was across the table from me. His plate in front of him was as untouched as a nun. He had absolutely no humor at the moment and he looked like shit. Obviously sleep had not come to him. Sitting with his arms crossed, he glared at me through those bloodshot eyes. Dark circles cut under them, making him look almost sinister and slightly mad. My fork crossed the table and tapped lightly on the edge of his plate.
“You should eat something. You will need your strength tonight.”
Larson glared at me some more. He picked up his fork and scooped up some eggs. I took another bite of mine. They were quite tasty even if they were cooling to a rubbery texture. Hey, no matter how good of a cook I am, eggs do that. Larson put his fork down on his plate instead of taking a bite. It made a loud clank as it hit the ceramic. He continued to glare at me as I continued to eat. I took a gulp of sweet tea.
“You got something to say, Larson?”
I was waiting for it. I didn't know how it was going to come, but I knew it was indeed going to come. His fingers closed on the edge of his plate, jerked, and flung it to the floor. The plate shattered with a loud crash, sending pieces of porcelain, eggs, biscuit, and jelly skittering across the kitchen floor. Tiff jumped, everyone else remained the same. His chair hit the floor as he pushed back from the table and stood, eyes flaming and finger pointing at me.
“Fuck you, Deacon! FUCK YOU! My family has been held hostage by those monsters all day. I know where they are! We should have gone to rescue them! But no, you”âhis finger jabbed and his face turned a mottled purple. He looked like his head would explode he was so angry. Angry and scared. “YOU LEFT THEM THERE!” Screaming, he came over the table at me, fingers going for my throat.
He was so out of control it was almost too easy. My arm came around, hand connecting with the side of his head as he got on top of the table. It was a good solid backhand, and it did its job. Larson crumpled over on his side, laying awkwardly on the table. Standing, I pinned him to the table with my hand on the side of his face. He was laying twisted with one arm underneath him. His head dangled off my side of the table, his feet flailed in the air on the other side. I loomed over him. Bloodshot eyes rolled up at me.
Again, I know exactly how big I am. I knew I was the only thing he could see. I was his whole world at that second. My arm applied pressure to his neck and I knew it hurt.
So I leaned in a bit more.
“Listen to me. Listen very carefully.” I gave him my best glare. It has been known to make bad guys wet the bed. “I am your only hope. I am the only hope for your family. Me. No one else. You cannot save them. Do you understand?” He stared at me and I shook him. “Do you fucking understand that?”
He nodded. More weight, more pressure, more looming.
“Pay attention. I left your family there because we had
no
choice. The vampires are asleep during the daylight and they are as safe as they can be. There will be a plan. But know this”âso close our noses almost touchedâ“it will be my plan. I cannot have you do anything more than what I tell you. If you do not listen, then your family has no chance of living until tomorrow.” I let him go and stood up.
no
choice. The vampires are asleep during the daylight and they are as safe as they can be. There will be a plan. But know this”âso close our noses almost touchedâ“it will be my plan. I cannot have you do anything more than what I tell you. If you do not listen, then your family has no chance of living until tomorrow.” I let him go and stood up.
He coughed and rolled over, sliding off the table until he was kneeling on the floor with his head the only thing left resting on the table. There were tears in his eyes. His voice was weak when he spoke.
“How do you know they are still alive?”
“I don't.” My voice cut into him. He flinched and then looked up. “We have to act as if they are and we can save them. But I do not know if they are still alive or not. All I can do is promise you that if they are not, then we will kill every motherfucker who touched them tonight.” Picking up my plate, I carried it over to the sink. “Now pull it together. We need your knowledge to make our plan. Get your shit together for your family and come to the conference room.” I was at the door now and I turned to look at him. There was one last thing.
“And clean up your fucking mess before you come.”
15
It was crunch time. We were going to be gearing up against the scariest fucking vampire I had ever heard of. We had innocents held hostage by the monsters. We had no advantage. It was a crap situation and so I'd had to remind Larson who was in charge of things. If he didn't get it after the scene in the kitchen, then he never would. If that was the case, I would use him to get to Appollonia and once that was done, I would tie him up and stuff him in the trunk of the car until it was all over.
The chair I always picked in the conference room molded to my back. Feet up on the table, I leaned back into it, finding the sweet spot that made it my chair. Everybody would be in shortly and we would come up with the best plan we could.
Would Larson's family survive? I didn't know. I didn't even know if they were still alive at the moment. That couldn't come close to being my concern. I could only pray they were. I had never met them, and so far Larson had almost been more trouble than he was worth, but they were human.
Since my family was taken from me, I've worked to save any humans I can from the monsters. If you are human, I will put my life between you and the monsters. One day that mission will end and send me to where my family is. I know this, and it is fine by me. I can't take myself there, though; it has to happen when it happens. One day my ticket will be punched. Until then I take out every monster I can.
I said a prayer of safety for Larson's family. Yes, I pray. For all the blood I shed, I do pray. I firmly believe in God, I am a good Catholic. If you had seen a demon face-to-face, you would believe too. I've watched crosses turn away vampires, I've seen holy water drive away demons, and I have rescued an Angel of the Lord. Hell yes, I believe. So I prayed for their safety and their lives. I don't pray nearly often enough. Truthfully, I pretty much rely on Father Mulcahy to cover that department.
Prayer doesn't result in thunder and lightning. There haven't been any burning bushes. Sometimes there is nothing at all. But occasionally, I get this feeling, kind of like a weightless weight, and it causes a shiver down my spine. I believe this is an acknowledgment of my prayer. Not an answer, just an acknowledgment.
It's enough because it has to be. That's the deal.
The prayer was short. As I finished I felt eyes on me. Looking up, I found Tiff leaning in the doorway. I didn't say anything, just looked at her. She was dressed normally in a pair of jeans and a sweater. The sweater was blue and black and matched her hair color. Her hair touched the sweater at the shoulders and that is all. It wasn't straightened today and had nice wavy locks that framed her face.
The heavy Goth makeup was gone and in its place was a cute face scrubbed clean. Her eyes were still big and blue, set above a cute nose and full lips. The jeans and sweater fit and showed off a cute figure. She was small and built like a gymnast. There was something delicate about Tiff. Something that made you feel like protecting her but didn't detract from her desirability. She was adorable. In her eyes I saw care and concern for me. Care, concern ... and something else.
There was a heat in her eyes. She seemed innocent as a lamb, but that look was not innocent at all. She did a long, slow blink at me and a smile danced at the corners of her mouth. Pushing off the door frame, she walked into the room.
“I am not sure I know all that is going on around here. I know something weird happened last night at the club. I don't know what it was. You promised me a reason why I had to leave my job, and all I have gotten so far is a really tasty omelet.”
I had promised to tell her why she was here. Truthfully, I didn't completely know. Getting her out of Helletog was a no-brainer, but telling her to come here for a job wasn't a well-thought-out plan. Still, I could at least tell her why she had to leave her job, especially since she had seen the confrontation with Larson. Should I break it to her gently? Nah. Not really my style.
“The club you worked for was owned by a vampire. I had gone there to kill him and I didn't want to leave you behind.” See, that was simple enough. Rip the bandage right off, won't sting a bit.
Realization dawned on her face. “Gregorios was a vampire? A real vampire? As in âI vant to suck your blood' vampire?” I nodded to her question. Her head shook, sending those big locks of hair sweeping across her face. Sitting in the chair closest to me, she leaned forward. That was one really well-fitting sweater she had on. I was listening as she continued, I promise. “I mean, I knew he was Goth, it was a Goth club, but I met him during the day. Don't vampires explode in the sunlight?”
“Not so much explode as they burn up like a human-sized birthday candle. And during the day you met his renfield, and that is a whole other subject. But Gregorios's renfield looked a lot like him.” Greggie had not survived his master's demise. I had Father Mulcahy go check while we headed to the jack shack earlier. Greggie had turned to dust. He had obviously lived far longer than a mortal was supposed to. Both the bouncers were gone when Father Mulcahy got there.
Her full lips pursed and blew a puff of air to move the hair that had slid down toward her eyes. She sat in shock, thinking about what I had said. It was a lot to take in. Undead, bloodsucking creatures of the night are always a shock the first time you realize they actually exist. After a long moment, her big eyes turned up to look at me again.
“So, if my boss was a vampire, then why didn't he try to bite me?”
I thought about my answer for a moment. “Oh, I am sure he would have gotten to it soon. You are pretty bite-able.”
A blush crawled up her cheeks and came to stay for a minute. It made me grin.
“Why, Mr. Chalk, are you flirting with me?” The smile crossed her face, cheeks still glowing pink.
“I could be, darlin', I very well could be.” My smile matched hers. Yep, I could be indeed. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen in the past twenty-four hours.
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