The Red Slayer
30 - Cemetery Standoff

If the cat was out of the bag when I threw that gas grenade at Michael, the cat has now torn the bag to shreds, set it on fire and swept the ashes into the bin. There’s no use hiding things for Tara’s sake anymore. I pull off my waistcoat and shirt, tossing them among the shopping bags.

Tara gasps at seeing the top of my long-sleeve leotard and corset. But that’s nothing when I slip out of my trousers to show the micro-miniskirt and long purple boots.

Luke grins. ‘Of course you were wearing that the whole time.’

I pull out my mask and slip it over my face. ‘Tara, get behind us.’

‘What’s going on?’ she asks nervously.

With night-vision on, I see the distinct shape of three women striding towards us and stop a few metres away. They’re dressed in black trouser suits. Plain, not at all stylish. The look gives the impression that they don’t wear suits often or they’d play around a bit and get something that fits their personality. Even the dullest of accountants adds colour to their ensemble now and then.

‘Did Michael send you?’ I ask them.

The middle one, a dishwater-blonde smirks. ‘Hand over the girl and we’ll walk away.’

‘I have a better idea,’ says Luke. 'You walk away and we won’t kick your asses.’

‘It wasn’t a suggestion,’ says the brunette to the left.

I sigh and roll my shoulders. ‘Looks like this encounter’s going to end violently no matter what.’

‘I hope you’re as easy to take down as your friend, Crystal,’ Luke quips and takes a stake from his waistcoat.

The third woman starts at hearing this name. ‘What?’

‘Oh yeah,’ I add, ‘First casualty of the Gold Slayer.’ I slap my hand on Luke’s shoulder.

The shock in the third woman’s face turns to anger, she leans forward, ready to pounce, but the centre one grabs her forearm to hold her back.

‘What are you doing?’ hisses Tara.

I continue. ‘Gosh. How high will my kill count be when I add you to it? I lost count after burning down that club in May. Let’s be generous and say twenty…thirty?’

‘That was you?’ says the second woman. ‘My sister was in that fire.’

‘She was complicit in human trafficking, then. Not my fault that karmic forces caught up to her.’

She launches before the middle can catch her. Tara screams. The second she’s close enough, I send her careening into the nearest tombstone at full momentum. She flops over on the ground and doesn’t get up. This provokes the third enough to pull from the middle’s grasp and charge at me too. I stand and wait as she reaches for my throat. I grab her wrists and ram my forehead against hers. My mask protects me from impact, but she falls backwards onto the cobblestones.

I step over them to face now solitary vampire again. ‘I didn’t have to kill them to take them down. Do you want to have that privilege?’

But she grins instead. ‘If you think that’s all my boss will throw at you tonight, you’re very, very wrong.’

She pulls a whistle from her jacket pocket. Realising what it’s for, I lunge forward, grabbing Luke’s stake to silence her. But she’s as quick as I am. A sharp note escapes into the darkness before I plunge the stake into her heart where she ages and decays instantaneously.

Tara screams.

‘Oh crap,’ Luke gulps, looking behind him.

More vampires are approaching us. Five to our left, five to our right. Three leap out from behind tombstones where Tara and I were just sitting. The two women I knocked out clumsily get to their feet.

Luke and I stand back-to-back with Tara tucked between us.

‘What do we do?’ he whispers. ‘Gas grenades?’

‘I have three left. What about you?’

‘Four. You take North and East. I’ll take West and South.’

I throw mine as quickly as I can. The cream-coloured gas explodes across the path and to the left where the first two women sit. Luke throws his, surrounding the three of us in a ring of garlic scented mist. Coughing and spluttering fills our ears but we’re not about to drop our guard yet.

‘Infrared vision I think,’ I tell Luke. He nods.

The two women choke on the fumes and fall to their knees. Their bodies, usually a mix of yellows and oranges, transcend to the deepest of blues before they keel over and turn to dust.

‘It’s working,’ I say.

‘What is?’ Tara whimpers, almost hysterical.

I turn off infrared as the gas begins to clear. What would have been an outnumbering force of vampires are now piles of clothes and dust on the ground.

‘That was easy,’ Luke remarks lifting his mask. ‘Surely, your uncle knew we had the ability to gas his goons.’ He goes to pick up the shopping bags again. ‘Might want to give these clothes a wash if you don’t want to go around smelling of garlic.’

I’m about to join him, only to realise, 'You’re right. That was too easy. Send three to distract us as they set up an ambush, I can believe. But man said ambush with droogs susceptible to gas he’s encountered twice now? Something’s not right about that.’

Tara drops to her knees, silently staring into space. I catch her just in time to save her from the impact.

‘Has she snapped?’ asks Luke.

I pull her to her feet. ‘Going into shock I think.’ I lightly tap her cheek. ‘Come on, Tara. We’re sitting ducks out here. I promise I’ll tell you everything once we’re safe.’

She remains unresponsive. I don’t want to slap her. The colour rapidly drains from her face. I sigh, kneeling down so I can sling her over my shoulder. Her head will face down, so hopefully the blood will get there. Luke slings the duffle over his shoulder and picks up the shopping bags.

We walk quickly down the path, jogging as best we can under this weight. We reach, pausing on the verge to make sure no more vampires will jump out. Instead, Olga comes running across the road in her White Slayer garb, leading us to the nearest tunnel entrance.

***

‘She’ll be okay,’ says Dad. We have Tara sleeping on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with her feet elevated. I massage my shoulder from where I was carrying her. Trust me to use the formerly dislocated one.

Dad and I adjourn to the kitchen, leaving Ariel to sit dutifully beside Tara, where Elisa, Luke, Olga are filling a newly-arrived Dante on recent events.

‘So, Tara’s in on vampires existing now?’ he asks as I sit next to him.

‘Thank goodness she didn’t see me take out my first vampire.’ I pause thoughtfully at how much has happened since then. Dad places a ham sandwich in front of me which I devour in minutes. The carbs and protein keep me from falling into fatigue. The second I let myself be tired, I’ll drop off.

With the last bite, I take a sip of Diet Coke and let relief turn to seriousness. I look at Dad as he takes my plate away. ‘So, about the data…?’

Dad nods grimly, putting the plate in the sink before turning around and facing the five of us. This moment of dread buries us with enough silence to hear Ariel panting.

‘Michael Hughes has been experimenting with vampire blood for months it seems,’ he begins. He’s not the brain behind the science himself but as soon as he’s caught by the authorities, he’ll be held the most accountable.’ He taps his stubbly chin ‘The thing is, he isn’t smart enough to have devised this himself.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask. ‘Before he went to prison, he was an investment banker…or a banking executive—something bank-related.’

‘He’s cunning enough to bribe and backstab his way to a high position,’ Dad explains, ‘But he mostly gained that position because of his family’s reputation. A reputation he ruined when his abuse was exposed. No one comes out of prison and gets placed in charge of a supernatural scientific research lab. He’s working for someone.’

‘Who though?’ asks Dante.

‘It could be anyone,’ says Elisa. ‘People are always trying to weaponize vampires.’ She cocks an eyebrow at Dad. ’You tried it once.’

'I was trying to prove humans could have vampiric abilities without turning,’ he asserts.

‘I’m that proof,’ I add.

Dad nods at me gratefully. ‘Anyway, making yourself a guinea pig is a far cry from making a Feral.’

A collective gasp sweeps across the counter. Olga, who was resting her head on her hand, sits bolt upright. Dante drops the protein bar he’s eating. Luke drops his can of Coke and the contents spills across the worksurface, Elisa blanches, and I replace a lump in my throat that wasn’t there a second ago.

© Alice of Sherwood, June 2020