Authors: Patrick Kampman
“Hey!” I said.
“What, you think this little old corpse isn’t hot enough to get your blood boiling?” Katy walked right up to the guy, putting her arms around his neck.
Katy’s move and sudden change in demeanor caught him completely off guard. He stood frozen, looking down at her, unsure how to react.
It was the opening Katy needed to forcefully move her knee up into his groin. The action was quick, and I would remember the sound of the preternaturally strengthened collision of knee on balls for years to come. My legs cross involuntarily every time I do.
“Don’t worry about answering. It was a rhetorical question,” Katy said, as the guy doubled up.
She grabbed the back of his leather jacket’s collar and threw him behind her. He slammed head first into the side of a pool table. The impact of his skull on the laminate siding made a loud crack like a good billiards break.
Katy leisurely picked up her glass and ate an ice cube as she watched the guy slump to the floor. I began to slink toward the back door again.
Katy shattered another ice cube with her canine and said to the stunned onlookers, “So… any of you flea-bitten mongrels actually been with a bitch that wasn’t wearing a collar? No? Too bad—it makes all the difference.”
With that remark, the tattooed guy’s buddies finally moved, and when they did, they were fast. The werewolves went from stock still to up and moving in no time flat.
Unfortunately, Katy’s death wish had rubbed off on me. Despite my best attempts at self-preservation through cowardice, two of the five assailants peeled off and headed in my direction. I sighed as I readied myself, noting that somehow Lacey continued to remain unnoticed as she surreptitiously closed in on the exit.
In retrospect, I should have gone for a pool cue, but something about a barroom brawl made me think: bottle. Of course, in the movies, they usually use the larger ones meant for whiskey.
Let me tell you the reason for that. As it turns out, beer bottles are neither as gratifying nor as prone to breaking in spectacular fashion as the other type. The one I used to clock the first guy upside his head thumped against his dome with extreme ineffectiveness.
To add insult to injury, I hadn’t checked to make sure the makeshift weapon was empty before deciding to brain the guy with it. As I brought the bottle up in an arc above my head, its contents fell prey to the force of gravity. A room-temperature shower of fermented liquid and backwash rained down on me before the ineffective collision.
The guy barked out a short laugh as the bottle rebounded off his “ironic” knit cap.
That did it. My right hand dropped the bottle as I sent a quick left jab up at his grinning face. I felt the gratifying, though painful, impact as my knuckles hit home under his jaw.
I wasn’t able to enjoy it for long. His buddy tackled me from the side. We slid across the worn felt of a nearby pool table, sending balls in every direction. On the painful journey, I got to watch the yellow-and- white-striped nine-ball fall into a corner pocket before we rolled off the opposite edge of the table and dropped a hard three feet onto the stained concrete floor.
The werewolf I was grappling with was stronger and faster than me, but I was better trained, and on the floor is where I do my best work—in more ways than one, at least according to my past girlfriends.
I maneuvered for a leg hook, flipping myself around so I was on top of him as he lay face down on his back. I applied a chokehold, which would have had a regular human in submission in short order. It might even take out this werewolf fairly soon. I had never fought with one before. I knew they had inhuman strength and endurance, but I wasn’t sure exactly what their limits were.
I never found out. The guy in the knit cap had circled around the table, landing a football-style punt kick to my side. It sent me rolling sideways, fresh pain lancing from the earlier gunshot wound. My gun slipped out of my pants and went skittering across the floor.
Training took over; I regained my feet and assumed a ready stance. The bartender picked up the handgun. I thought the situation was going to go from bad to worse, but he ejected the clip, locked the slide back, and tossed the piece back down on a table.
My peripheral vision caught the blur that was Katy. She was landing a kick into the face of a tattooed girl sporting a Black Dog Pool Hall t- shirt. I was relieved to see that Katy hadn’t escalated the encounter into anything more deadly than fisticuffs. I doubted her self-restraint and was glad she had left her axe back home.
Lacey arrived at the exit to the hall, where she took up position to watch the fight. My annoyance with her rose when she reached toward the nearby counter and started helping herself to the basket of pretzels.
I didn’t have time to dwell on her lack of help, because Knit Cap was coming for me again. I went on the offensive, moving into him. I executed a foot sweep. Grabbing the front of his shirt with one hand and his left arm with my other, I twisted him around as my foot brushed the floor, knocking his feet out from under him.
He went airborne. I twisted him during the journey so that he would land on his back, laid out in front of me. I kept hold of his arm and moved to secure an arm lock as he hit the ground. He screamed out in pain from the impact and the force I began to apply to his limb. I internally applauded myself at the textbook takedown.
His buddy wasn’t as appreciative. He’d gotten up and grabbed a pool cue, the one I should have taken at the beginning of the fight, and sent it whistling in an arc toward my face. I was forced to jump back out of the way, releasing the hold on Knit Cap as I did.
I kept my eyes on the attacker as he made another wild swing with the cue that I easily dodged. Had I expanded my field of vision, I would have noticed that his friend on the floor had spun around onto his hands and feet and lunged at my legs.
Knit Cap crashed into my shins, and I fell face down on him. I sent a series of sharp knees at his face. The first connected, and I thought I broke his nose. He jerked his head out of the way, causing the rest to land hard against the top of his shoulder. I heard the satisfying crack of his collarbone as my last strike broke it.
My celebration ended when his buddy broke the pool stick across the back of my head.
My body had taken more than its fair share of beatings in recent days, and it was not at all happy. As I regained consciousness, it protested loudly and in excruciating fashion. At this point, the only thing keeping me going was whatever residual amount of Marie’s blood still flowed through my system.
Someone must have thrown me out the back exit I had originally been heading for, because I lay sprawled in an alley beside a dumpster that could have made a skunk turn green with envy.
Katy was standing over me. The grime covering one side of her once- white tank top told me she had been thrown out along with me. The standing-over-me part told me she had obviously recovered a bit faster than I had.
Her lip had been split open, so when she smiled, it was a bloody grin.
“That was fun!”
I seriously questioned the girl’s idea of a good time. “I’m surprised they let us live,” I said, rolling into a sitting position. I tried to decide between rubbing the back of my head or my side. Other things hurt too, but they were too far back in line to garner my attention. I settled on rubbing both. It probably wasn’t a good look.
Katy made an exasperated sound and stepped away to kick a discarded soda can. The empty maroon-and-white container ricocheted off the wall with a loud hollow ting.
“Come on, Chance. Why do you have to be so dramatic? Not everything involves killing. Sometimes a situation calls for a good old-fashioned barroom brawl.”
“I thought it was a pool hall,” I said.
Katy grinned wider.
“I told you that expecting Chance to keep you out of trouble was a dumb idea.” Lacey stepped into focus above me. She extended her hand, which I took. With her help, I managed to stand up, only crying out a little as I did.
Standing hurt worse.
“And where were you while all this was going on?” I asked Lacey, knowing exactly where she had been.
“On the sidelines cheering you on! Don’t worry—I would have stepped in if things had started getting ugly. You did okay, considering there were two of them.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course, you lost.”
“Nice of you to notice. And Lacey, I’m glad I can count on you to have my back,” I said.
In a moment that reminded me of old times, Katy said, “Well, Chance, when it comes down to it, you know I’ve got your back.”
Lacey dismissed the vampire with a look. “Sorry, I don’t like physical violence. I imagine it would be painful. Besides, like the nutter over there said, they weren’t going to kill you. Speaking of killing, here’s your gun.” Lacey handed me the Browning and its magazine.
“I’m glad you were sure enough of that to let them beat on me,” I said, sliding the magazine into the weapon and tucking it back into my shorts.
“I thought you were done having women come to your rescue. Isn’t that why you came all the way out here to Texas by yourself?” Lacey smiled, taking a few steps back.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Smart. Even smarter would be taking a shower. You smell like a brewery. I’m no tactician, but I can’t figure out what advantage you thought dumping that beer on your head was going to give you. It’s not like the wolves were trying to track your scent; they were right in front of you. I’m pretty sure they could see you.”
I was about to let Lacey know where she could shove a beer bottle when Katy interrupted.
“Hey, Chance, I thought you were some sort of martial arts expert. At least I took out all three of mine before the rest of them jumped me! You couldn’t even handle two.” Katy gave me a condescending pat on my shoulder. At least she had the decency to find one of the last areas on my body that wasn’t in some way damaged.
I had to admit, I was a little embarrassed about getting my ass kicked. So I took it out on the closest annoying blonde in the alley.
“Look, Katy—I’m glad at least one of us had fun, but not all of us here have supernatural powers. Some of us actually need time to heal from our beatings. I apologize if I’m not happy about having to participate in your self-centered little thrill ride back there.”
“Geez, sorry.”
“Now can you
please
tell me where my mom is?”
She shrugged, somewhat subdued by my outburst. “Last time I saw her she was with Martin, getting gas for the Explorer. I have no idea where she is now.”
I could hardly believe it. “What? Are you serious? So after putting me through all of that—” I jerked my thumb toward the pool hall “—now you’re going to tell me that you don’t know where she is?”
“Like I told you when you called, Christian asked Martin and me to watch your mom, the kid, and that vamp you guys worked over, while Christian and the rest of the gang went to go meet your girlfriend. Not that much of the gang is left. You’ve kind of thinned us out, Chance.”
“Forgive me for not caring.”
“I can’t blame you. And, really, most of ‘em were ass-hats.”
“Glad I got your approval. I’ll sleep better now.”
“Ha. Anyway, sorry about the fight. I was pissed at having been put on babysitting duty. Can you believe Christian wouldn’t let me come? He said I would be trouble.”
When I didn’t answer, Katy made a huffing sound. “I guess I needed to release some tension, you know?” A sly look crept across her features. “Of course, I still have a whole bunch left I need to work off. I bet you and I could think of a better way to do it.”
“Katy, I already told you—I’m with Toni.” This garnered a reaction from Lacey, but at least she kept it non-verbal.
Katy pouted. “I totally wanted to go see this Toni of yours. I want to know what makes her so special. I would give anything to watch her tell Christian off some more. That would have been epic, at least until he ate her.”
“I’m sure it would have been an amazing sight. Now, can you please tell me where my mom is?”
“Like I said, Christian asked Martin and me to baby-sit the three of them. Martin’s still having issues walking after what you guys did to his legs. High-five for that, by the way.” Katy held up her palm and I reluctantly slapped it. She continued, “I bailed on Martin when we stopped to get gas. I figured if I didn’t get to see the girlfriend smack-down, I could at least go check out some werewolves.
“Screw Christian. He thinks he can make me sit around with that douchebag Martin. Besides, I didn’t see the point of having two of us babysitting them. Your mom is enthralled—she’s not going anywhere, the kid seems happy to sit around and ask lots of annoying questions, and that tramp-vamp you guys abused is still so banged up she just lays there. Man, you guys messed her up.”
“We did?” asked Lacey. “I mean, yeah, we totally did.”
They must have assumed Megan wasn’t with me. Then it dawned on me: of course they did. She’s a vampire, I’m a vampire hunter. I finally followed the same line of reasoning to Marie. It was at that point I realized Christian would never have used a vampire as a plant. He assumed I hated all vampires.
“Katy, you swore to me you would tell me where my mom was if I met you,” I said.
“I did tell you where she was. It’s not my fault she moved.” She smiled at her joke, but she stopped as soon as she saw that I didn’t find it funny. “All right, calm down already. How about I tell you where she
will
be instead?”
“You know where they’re going?”
“Well, that vamp you guys beat up was in bad shape, but she wasn’t one of Christian’s, so you wasted your energy. You should have whacked her. Anyway, Christian figured she must be one of the locals. Christian told us to wait until she had recovered enough, and Martin could walk again, then bring them to Marie’s place. Marie is the head vamp around here. Or at least she was. Christian is now, of course.”
“He is?”
“He’s way older and more powerful than that bimbo. He’s waiting on the official word that Texas is his. There’s some sort of vampire protocol, if you can believe it.”