Blood and Bullets (3 page)
Tension sang across my nerves as I tried to look at everything and listen to everything. My steps were slow and careful as I walked in staying near the wall and shadows. I did not draw my gun, but I wanted to. My eyes darted here and there, searching shadows for anything dangerous. Because I wasn't really watching where I was putting my feet, occasionally something sticky would pull against the sole of my boot. I did not look down to see what it could have been.
Broken glass littered the alley floor, crunching and tinkling underfoot, so I did not even try to be stealthy. I just moved slowly, every sense wide open, my nerves tingling with adrenaline.
I was about halfway down when a shadow moved in a shadow.
The dark shape of a man crouched atop a stack of wooden pallets just a few feet from where I stopped. In the dark I couldn't make out much about him. He looked big, bulky with his black coat spread around him. My hand was sliding slowly under my jacket when the shape spoke.
“Are you Deacon Chalk?” The voice from the shape was deep and raspy. How the hell did everybody know my name tonight?
“Are you Nyteblade?” My hand stayed in my jacket, fingertips just touching the grip of the pistol.
“I am Nyteblade.” The figure leaned a little forward, shifting toward me. “Are you Deacon Chalk?”
I had already had a weird night. Now this asshole was starting to freak me out because he was being bizarre. Freaking me out is not a good idea. It tends to make me shoot people. But he should not have known my name. Then again, maybe he should; the note in the folder did not say why he would be in this alley.
Maybe he was sent to meet me.
By the vampires?
Suspicion tightened my scalp and I started looking around the alley because the whole situation suddenly took a new tilt. I was on edge coming in to this. Now I was over the precipice and free-falling.
“That's me, man. Look, this isn't adding up... .”
Wooden pallets rasped against each other and flew away as he launched himself at me. Black fabric swirled out from his body like wings as he jumped, popping and flapping in the night air. A large, pointed object filled his hand and stabbed at my chest, banshee howl flying from his lips.
“DIESOULLESSUNDEADCREATUREOFTHE NIGHT!”
The Desert Eagle cleared leather and swung around. I didn't have time to shoot because we were too close and he was too fast. Instead, my hand holding the gun lashed out, knocking the object away before it could impale me. My left hand clenched into a fist. Without thought, I slammed it into his chest, knocking him back on his ass. The pistol's laser centered on his form sprawled out among the garbage.
On his back, large black duster bunched up underneath him, he was smaller than he looked on the pallets. Maybe 5'10”, the man on the ground was thin. Stick thin. He couldn't weigh more than a buck fifty.
Everything he wore was black. Black boots, black leather pants, and a black T-shirt all hid under a long black duster. Pale, freckled skin and bright red hair gleamed in the night. Big black sunglasses covered his eyes, making him look like an insect.
Who the hell wears sunglasses at night? The thing he had tried to stab through my chest lay next to him, still spinning lazily from being knocked out of his hand. It was a three-foot-long wooden stake as big around as my wrist. A bandolier of them clung tight across his chest. The biggest freaking crucifix I had ever seen was in a contraption of straps on his thigh.
“What the HELL is your PROBLEM?” Spit flew as I screamed at him. Laying on his back, he looked up at me with his mouth hanging open. “You tried to fucking stake me?” The stake clattered down the alley as I kicked it with my booted foot. “I'm not a vampire, dumbass.”
He lay unmoving, every muscle tense and the deer in headlights look that people who are not familiar with guns get when one is pointed at them. In my head, I was debating on shooting his ass when the skin on the back of my neck started prickling. Some supernatural mojo was happening. Every second it built, pressing into my skin like a weight. Heat radiated from the back of my head and neck. In the corner of my vision, wisps of steam from the temperature change of my skin and the cold night air swirled around my face. I quit looking at Nyteblade and began to try to see the entire alley at once. The night breeze shifted and the smell of garbage passed away from me and was replaced with a different smell. A musty, dry smell of shed skin and tainted venom.
Fucking vampires on the wind.
3
Movement from the end of the alley made the Desert Eagle jerk up. Sighting down my arm, I watched as the garbage began moving. Bags, boxes, and clumps tumbling down from the heap like lava from a volcano. Vampires rose up, shedding garbage like a second skin. I quickly counted twelve of them. This was bad, really fucking bad.
Nyteblade jerked back when I kicked his leg. “Get up, dammit. We have to go now or we are totally screwed.” The vampires were out of the garbage now and slowly walking toward us. Nyteblade stood to his feet, his head crossing in front of the gun barrel as he moved beside me. Damn idiot. The extra clip I took out was heavy in my left hand, but I would need it if I had to start shooting.
A hand touched me on the arm. Glancing quickly at Nyteblade, I noticed that he had lost the sunglasses and his eyes were wide. White showed all the way around pupils that were a bright cornflower blue. His pale, freckled hand pointed up in the air behind me.
As he drew my attention, a low hissing began to fill the night air, buzzing and snaking its way through the alley's acoustics. A fast look around and I saw that the tops of both buildings were lined with vampires. Numbers tumbled in my head as visually I grouped them in rough tens. I didn't perform an exact count, but easily fifty bloodsuckers surrounded us.
I had forty-six bullets for the Desert Eagle. Another five in the Taurus put me at fifty-one total. To kill a vampire by gun meant two bullets per, one in the heart and one in the head.
No way could I hit every shot fired. Nobody is 100% when it comes to shooting. Especially if you add in the fact that no vampire was just going to stand still and let me cap their ass. So I would not be killing all the vampires in the alley. I just couldn't. I might be a lot of things, but I am not a damn superhero.
Head shots only as much as possible.
A bullet in the brain will not kill a vampire. They will heal it eventually. But it would put them on their bloodsucking ass for a few minutes, and a few minutes might be enough for me to get us gone. Pointing Nyteblade toward the open end of the alley, we began to move. Slowly.
Inching our way out, the air was heavy with tension. It vibrated like the strands of a spider's web when an insect has been caught. It was like swimming in a pool of hungry sharks. One tiny drop of blood and it would be a feeding frenzy. It was only going to take one small break to rain vampire hell down around our ears. Every step we took, the vampires took one also. Mirroring our movements, they were acting like zombies. Or puppets tied together with one string.
I knew it would happen. It had to. But I still didn't see it coming when it did.
Nyteblade cursed as he stumbled on something and fell against the wall, just ten feet shy of the alley's opening. He cursed again as the brick tore open the skin on his palm. I couldn't smell the blood from the scrape, but the vampires reacted like they had been plugged into a live wire.
Their hissing became a cacophony, high and shrill. Thunder from the barrel of my gun rolled across the alley's walls as I shot into the mass of vampires. My ears closed and everything became muffled. Recoil ran up my arm and into my shoulder as I pulled the trigger. Ten bullets spit out in as many seconds. Cordite swirled the air in front of me as I popped the clip and let it fall to the ground. There was not time to catch it as I slammed a new one home.
Pushing Nyteblade with my shoulder, I kept firing into the vampires who were scrambling down the alley. The ones on the roof let out a chorus of screams. Most of them began crawling down the wall like lizards and a few launched themselves into the air, swooping up as the wind caught them. I hate flyers. They are the hardest to kill and they are fast as hell. They became my focus as I pushed against Nyteblade. He was dragging ass, fumbling inside his coat.
Bullets flew from the end of my gun as fast as I could get a bead and pull the trigger. This is why I use laser pointers on my pistols; they make a huge difference when you have to find your target fast. I'm a better-than-average shot winging many of my targets, making them spiral out of control to slam into the garbage on the alley floor. Another two clips down and I spared a glance to both Nyteblade and the end of the alley.
He had hauled that huge silver crucifix out from under that coat and was holding it above his head. It was easily two feet long and probably weighed at least twenty pounds. Holy light shone out from it in a halo that covered Nyteblade like a spotlight. On the other side of him was a gang of vampires who had crawled down the wall to block our exit. They were a snarling mass of undead bodies, held at bay by the glow of the cross.
Vampires hate crosses and religious symbols. It doesn't matter the faith of the person holding the cross either, it is the symbol itself that hurts them. Vamps make holy objects glow in their presence, and the light will cause immense pain and damage to them.
Now, this doesn't mean that you can just grab two sticks and hold them up in the shape of a cross. That does not work. But if you take a few moments and lash or nail those sticks together, then they have power against vampires. It's the intent to make a cross that gives the shape its power. And the cross can be made of anything: Wood, steel, silver, plastic, frozen holy water, even chocolate all work. Trust me on that last one, I don't have time to get into that story.
My last clip slipped into the Desert Eagle like a lover and I began eyeing up the vampires left behind us in the alley. They were advancing slowly, shuffling like zombies. A quick count was twelve vampires still in the alley with us. I had nine bullets for the Desert Eagle and five in the Taurus, enough for each of them, but then I would be completely out of ammunition.
I really didn't want to be out of bullets if I didn't have to.
The twelve vampires were injured by my shooting, but their bodies were healing and they were moving faster with each step. Taking a second, I put the healthiest one in my sights. Sighting down my arm to the barrel of my gun, the laser's dot danced on his face. I matched the rhythm of my breathing with the rhythm of his shuffling.
Once we were in sync, I squeezed the trigger. The bullet took him in his cheekbone, just under his eye. A blink later and the vampire behind him was splashed with watery brain mush. He didn't react at all as the one I had shot fell at his feet. A squeeze of the trigger and I took him out with a head shot next. Seven bullets later and I had thinned the advancing vampires down to the three most injured ones.
The Desert Eagle was hot through the leather holster as I slid it under my arm.
Nyteblade was still waving his giant cross at the mass of vampires on his side of the alley. He was wearing down, though. His arms were visibly shaking, even through his duster. Every so often, the cross would dip down some and a snarling vampire would try to dart over the glow, only to be driven back to the group as Nyteblade swung the cross in their direction. My hand touched his shoulder.
“Hold them off just a few more minutes.” My mouth was right next to his ear because I knew the concussive noise of the gunfire had probably made him almost deaf. Holding him steady with my left hand, I used my right to pull two of his wooden stakes from the bandolier around his chest.
They were good, solid pieces of wood. About three feet long, smooth and sharply pointed, their weight told me they were made of hardwood. My guess would be hawthorn. That was the traditional wood for stakes. The backs of both were carved into a notched handle so that the best grip possible could be maintained, polished on the pointy end so they would slide in as friction free as possible, and unpolished on the handle to help you keep it in your hand.
This was important for two reasons. One, it is next to impossible to shove a piece of wood into someone's chest, so you want the tip to be sharp and slick. Two, if you do get the stake in, it is a bloody process and makes you prone to losing your grip, so you want the handle to be rough and absorbant.
Now, I have no idea why a wooden stake through a vampire's heart will kill them, I just know it works. Silly as it sounds, a piece of wood in the heart will turn a vampire to dust quicker than anything. And any piece of wood will work. One day I will tell you the toothpick story, but for now, just trust me, wood plus heart equals dead-ass vampire.
I spun the stakes in a circle to loosen up my wrists and forearms. The last three vampires on my side were still closing the gap. They were in rough shape. I've seen zombies move faster. Watching them, I noticed that they were moving weird even for being shot up.
All three were drawn and stretched thin. Thinner even than the girl vamp from earlier tonight. Like her, they reminded me of pictures of the Auschwitz prisoners from World War Two. I had never heard of anorexic vampires, but there was a first time for everything. The most important part of the description was the vampire part. Coupled with the rabid mass of vampires Nyteblade was holding at the end of the alley and all I was worried about was making them dust.
Shuffling to the right three steps helped me cut the first one from the group. He was short and dark, still wearing a dirty chef's apron and smock. His face was gaunt, all fangs and hollow eyes. As I drew near, he lunged out to grab me. The stake in my left hand flashed as it crashed into his cheekbone. Black blood flew out of his mouth as his head turned sharply away and splattered down his filthy formerly white smock and apron. Hooking upward with my right hand, I drove the stake under his ribcage and through the rubbery diaphragm.
I must have hit the heart on the first thrust because his eyes got wide and he froze in mid-attack. The transition to a pile of dust took seconds.
When staking a vamp by hand, you have to go under the ribs to hit the heart. You cannot just drive the stake through the sternum. Nobody can without a hammer. The sternum is thick, very tough, and made of a flexible, fibrous cartilage. It is like Kevlar over your heart. If the stake you are using is thin enough, you can slip it between the ribs, but then you have to travel through the lungs, and most bloodsuckers will not stand still for that.
The next vampire scrambled toward me. She was a young one when she was turned and apparently a hippie. She looked about twenty, with long brown hair that hung to her butt. Tiny, round, purple glasses rested on a perky nose above thin, colorless lips. She was even wearing a tie-dye shirt with bell-bottom jeans and no shoes. Her hair was clumped with garbage and stuck to her shirt in several places by some unidentifiable substance. She swiped a thin arm at me that had talons extended. They rasped as they scraped along the leather of my coat. My left arm knocked hers away and my right drove the stake into her side. Wet fluid shot over my hand and the smell in the alley actually got worse. I had hit an intestine in a dead body.
Gross.
The shriek that tore from her mouth was shrill and ear piercing. A twist of her body yanked the stake from my hand. Spinning, she launched herself at me like a homicidal rag doll and whirlwinded into me. Even though she was small, her weight knocked me down, driving me across the alley floor. Scrambling like an insect, she skittered on top of me before I could catch my breath.
I landed on my right side with my arm trapped under me. My left hand still held the stake, but the arm was between me and the vampire. She was trying to get to my throat and open a vein. My arm was the only thing keeping her back. Fangs latched on to my arm through my jacket. She didn't have a good grip with her mouth, but the puncture wounds her teeth caused burned like acid. If I hadn't had the leather coat on, her fangs would have scraped on bone.
The butt of the other stake scraped her eye socket as I jammed it in her face. Shrieks were muffled behind the thin hands covering her eye. It was the opening I needed.
My hand closed on the stake still jutting from her side. Pushing down to change the angle, I shoved it up and into her body cavity. The wooden stake slid in and up like silk, hitting her heart and exploding her into dust. I closed my eyes and held my breath as it rained down on me.
Relief flooded in and a shudder ran through my body. Adrenaline painted my nervous system. I got to my feet a little unsteadily, using the alley wall to help me up. Blood was making my arm stick to the inside of the jacket from the bite. It throbbed with every step over to the last vampire on this side.
This one was a caricature of a vampire. The once-expensive three-piece suit hung on him like a joke because he was so thin he looked like a skeleton. His walk was the shuffle of a zombie, not the predator glide of a vampire. Putting my hand on his head to hold him back, I put the stake under his ribcage.
Dead eyes looked at me, glazed over in a sickly yellow cast. His jaw worked mechanically, the teeth chomping up and down slowly. He wasn't really trying to get to me, just going through the motions. There was a bit of wiggling the stake to hit his heart, but he just stood there until I dusted him. It was actually pretty pathetic.
The vampires on the other side of Nyteblade were in a frenzy. They leaped and crawled over each other like a mound of rats. Still howling, hissing, and spitting, they boiled in a knot of undead fury. I knew they were frustrated by being held off by the cross. I knew they could smell the blood under my jacket. I knew they were pissed off that so many of their kind had been killed tonight.
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