We just stared at each other. We’d gone one whole month without much incident, and now everything was being weighed in these few single seconds. I slowly closed the fridge, and he pulled the blood pack away from his mouth, his eyes flicking from me to my wounds and the kit on the counter containing everything I’d need to hunt people like him.
Living in the city meant there was never really silence of any kind, but damn if the tension right now wasn’t the best soundproofing we could ask for. Too risky to fight, a bigger risk if I did nothing.
“I’m guessing those are not props for some leather movie?” He moved and I grabbed a small bottle of the holy water and he froze again, holding his hands up.
“No, and that isn’t cherry flavoured corn syrup.” I nodded to the bag in his hand still, reading the B- on the side facing me. I met his eyes again, and shifted onto my good leg, and got a sturdy grip on the bottle.
“No.Maybe we should talk.” He tried to step back but froze again when I raised the bottle and pulled on the cork with my teeth. “Think this all the way through shall we?”
I paused but made sure he could see the cork was loose. “Go on.”
A muscle twitched on his brow. “If I had wanted to harm you I would have done so by now. If I was feral your scent would have sent me into a frenzy. The look on your face tells me it wouldn’t be your first.”
“A fair few, ferals mostly, and some sickos. Tonight’s one liked going after younger teenagers.”
I glanced sidelong to the window, checking it was still a little open.
“I hope you put him down like a rabid dog.”
I flinched at the snarl. “Chased him through the rooftops, fell through a skylight into a church with a baptising pool. Staked him and held him under until there was just goo.”
He put the blood bag on the counter, propped up against the paper towel roll. “Let me get to the point you are clearly in a hurry to hear. I am tired of finding new places to hide because of what my people do. You are barely making enough to afford your double lifestyle and certainly cannot afford to move anywhere else in this city anytime soon.”
“I don’t make deals with vampires.” I grumbled, and couldn’t stand much longer, and with a little effort hoisted my 5ft self up onto the counter to sit, the bottle of holy water resting on my thigh as I re corked it.
“For your survival you will.” I shot him a glare, and was met with a glint of his fangs. Cocky bastard. “I propose a simple, in theory, solution to our little predicament.” He picked up the bag again and I looked away while he drained it, only looking back when the crinkle of the bag hit the trash can. “While we’re both contributing to rent here, we don’t try to kill each other. Neither of us can afford relocation. You’re too injured and…suffering non insignificant blood loss. I’m simply tired of fleeing every decade or so.”
I made my own little growl of frustration. “Fine. I’m not happy about it but, fine.”
That had been six months ago now.
At first things were tense to say the least. We both jumped at every little surprising sound or movement. We stayed as far apart as 200 square feet of apartment would allow. It helped that we only really had to endure one another at dawn and dusk. The routine made things easier for a while.
Then one Monday morning he hadn’t come back. Odd but not out of the question. However by Wednesday it was now a concern and his half of the rent was due by Friday and our particular landlord showed as much flexibility as the pavement.
I checked the coffee place on our street, the dingy old music shop he said he was working at and the owner looked disinterested at best and unreliable at worst. I never inquired where he usually went, didn’t want to know while we had the truce up.
I waited. Then I kitted out, took everything I could reasonably carry and threw on my overcoat. Time to hunt again.
The music shop’s security system was decades out of date, and simple enough to bypass. The grate lifted slowly but allowed me to slip under and pick the door’s lock. I could just about reach the bell to keep it from chiming, mostly out of habit. There were no cameras inside, only a mirrored disc in one corner so the clerk could see down the end aisle.
The shop was so tucked away I doubt it ever saw natural daylight. Then again if Light barely got in it was just as unlikely to get out right? I’d never noticed much traffic going by the place, even at peak hours.
I used a small torch, checking behind the counter, feeling near the register and around the shelves. A few more dusty vinyls, a mostly empty lunchbox with a crushed beer can inside. Nothing of interest and no secret alarm.
I slipped under the beaded curtain leading into the back, not wanting any additional movement or noise. It was much quieter back here, the traffic sounded distant and muffled. Creepy at this time of night, but the quieter it was the easier it was to pick up on unusual sounds. Once I got accustomed to my own breathing and blood thumping my eardrums.
The back looked more or less as I imagined it was, Floor to ceiling shelves of vinyls, cassettes, some old and colossal looking hi fi system from a previous generation. A beat up couch that looked like it was saved and patched up from a dumpster. Though the stench of full ashtrays and stale beer, and for certain some lingering scent of pot covered up by some cheap body spray.
I paced around the couch, shining the little beam of light over the shelves looking for any hint of my roommate’s presence. I could feel a headache starting as I tried to recall details from our few interactions. Given both our penchants for deception it was difficult to recall anything significant.
I almost missed it while my mind was elsewhere but a passing police car and siren had me ducking behind the sofa with the light out and waiting to see if they were stopping. When the sirens quieted down and left, I spotted something under the sofa near the brick supporting the back right corner.
I reached for it and shone the torch on the bit of metal. Broken keyring, and a small clubcard for the coffee shop just barely hanging onto it. I turned the card over, his name printed on the back. The whole thing was well worn, unsurprising he was usually there twice a day.
I pocketed it, and searched under the sofa some more, leaving a pair of socks well alone since they looked glued to the floor. I hope from cleaning up a beer spill. Under the shelves, some broken bits of CD cases or CD’s. Aha!
I pulled out his house key, recognising the little scratched in D he put on it. Must have been flung over here when the ring snapped. But why would it have snapped? The place didn’t look like a fight had broken out, as far as I could tell. It seemed the organised chaos was untouched.
The only other exit was a slim fire door that led into the back alley, which was a dead end one way, and the other was gated off from the street. The top of the fence looked bent, and the barbed wire was swinging over the gate itself.
I backed up to the wall as an old man pushing a trolley full of cans and bottles ambled by, muttering to himself and grumbling into a bottle. I waited another minute after I couldn’t hear him anymore to shine my light on the wire to inspect it. Mud had clumped to some parts, and the dried flakey residue was definitely blood.
I turned to shine the light at the wall, brownish red stained some of the grimey bricks, and went up unreasonably high.
I bounced the light back and forth, then looked at the gate again, then at where I was standing. The gravel had been kicked about quite a bit near here.
Let’s hope my leg was up to the task, I’d only been back on ‘duty’ for a few weeks, and was sticking to ground level as much as possible to get back into things. The doctors were always annoyed with the sort of physical strain I keep putting myself under, but to keep up with undead bastards with decades of experience I couldn’t afford to slow down.
It took a few tries and a running start to jump to the ladder and pull it down, trying not to let it clang too loudly. I moved up as quickly as I could, examining every floor. I could see some blood flecks on the railings, and worrying dents in some of them.
Once upon the roof I could see where the actual fight took place. Someone’s long abandoned greenhouse was shattered, potted plants were rolling around in the wind if not broken. Glass was everywhere and sparkled in a mockery of the night sky veiled by the city lights.
Blood was splattered in a few places, and footprints in the blood and soil and roof grit. I followed them, trying not to disturb anything, and following the fight, trying to imagine who the attacker could be. I didn’t have to imagine for long, as I nearly tripped over what I can only describe as an exploded boot.
It was a large, steel capped work boot. The steel toe cap was several feet away inside the greenhouse, and next to the torn sole of the remaining boot was a massive, bloody paw print. Larger than a bears, but the arrangement was canine.
“Bloody hell.” I hissed. Looking for the trail again. Another print on the ledge of the building, and as I shined my light over it I could see a smear on the next building. There was no way I was clearing the gap.
The signs suggested the building was some telecommunications office. Their security looked a little better than the music shops. I began reaching for my lockpicks when a voice made me jump and grab for one of my knives.
“S’no good. Doorway faces the wind.” The old man with the trolley was ambling back, smiling up at me. “Freezin’ even in summer. Go round back there’s plenty o’ doorways to pick.”
I nodded, not really sure what to say, but he wasn’t moving away. I reached into my pocket, not finding much on me, a few coins. I held them out. “Sorry, maybe it can get you some coffee?”
He held out his hand, looked at the coins and shifted them about. “Ha, Coffee! Aye I’ll get some Coffee!” He chuckled, ambling down the street again.
I walked the opposite way looking for a way to the back of the building, an alley or a gate.
I was too busy looking for a way in and I forgot to check the opposite side of the street. This led to being tackled into a deep set doorway with my arm being twisted up to my shoulder blade and my face being pressed into the glass on the door.
“Awful night isn’t it? Dull, quiet. How about a little scream for me eh?” Blood and alcohol made for disgusting breath.
“If you can actually hurt me I might give it a go!” I stomped hard, grinding the heel of my boot right where the vampire’s toes were. Supernatural or not, the smaller extremities still broke easiest, and hurt like a motherfucker.
“FUCK! YOU little BI-” I put both feet on the door and shoved hard to force him out into the street. He let go at some point, and now I could reach my knife and a bottle of holy water.
He slammed me, attempting to remove the knife first, his mistake. I smashed the bottle over his face and listened to him scream as it burned and melted the flesh down to the bone.
I kicked him off of me and got my knife back, kicking him onto his back and pressing the blade against his chest right at perfect staking height. “Answer my questions and I’ll end your misery.”
“Fuck I aint telling you shit!”
I pulled out another bottle and bit the cork to show him, I wouldn’t admit it out loud and I am loath to admit it here. I did like seeing the fear in their eyes when they realised I was not fucking around and could actually kill them.
“Darren McHallow. Know him?” I asked, pressing the blade through his shirt into skin, feeling him twitch.
“Crazy fucking bitch!” I pressed harder and removed the cork. “Fuck! Yes I know him. Freak.”
“Listen, you only live while you are useful to me, the second that changes. You’re done, is that understood?” I spilled a drop on his chest and it hissed like a lit fuse. “Where is he?”
He tried to squirm but the blade only bit deeper. “Some MoonBiter got loose, wanted to get out of the city. Went to your man there for help, and well fucking, full moon innit? Or was.”
“No no no no he’ll kill me if I-”
He watched the holy water move precariously over his head again and I could see the flinch. “Careful I might drop it.”
“You’re insane. Fuck, if I wasn’t melting right now I’d ask if you wanted to f-OW OW Bitch!” He snarled at the drops of holy water in the eye. “Saint Anders wanted the wolf man back and McDumbass got in the way, Anders been after his neck for centuries, has him under one of his nightclubs in the pit!”
There were hundreds in this city alone. Fuck.
“You just earned yourself a very short leash. I’m going to need you to take me to this club. His rent’s due and he’s not skipping out just because one of you fuckers has him chained up somewhere.”
He tilted his head up to look at me with his good eye. “You’re goddamn insane you know that lady?”
“Have to be to deal with six foot mosquitos.”
“You got a name short stack?”
