Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires (55 page)

BISCUIT IN THE BASKET

A
rm in arm, Roger, Rachel, and I stumbled down a long hallway behind the bleachers. I vaguely remember singing at one point. Then, suddenly we were in the locker room, meeting the Void City Howlers.

My vision cleared long enough for me to see Sparky Parker, my former hero, the king of the ten-minute penalty, transform into a werewolf. A snarl started at the base of his toes and ran up his entire body, leaving hair, fur, and muscle in its wake. The only signs of his human form were the green and white Howlers jersey he was wearing and the hockey stick gripped tightly in his left paw.

You'd think I'd have put it all together. After all, the team was called the Void City Howlers. In my own defense, though, the Mighty Ducks had never turned into mallards on ice. So the deductive reasoning wasn't as intuitive as it might seem. Plus, I was totally wasted for the first time in forty years.

Autograph book in hand, I looked around the room. It was just me, Sparky, and the other Howlers…no sign of Roger or Rachel. “Where did they go?” I asked.

“Your friends just ditched you, vampire,” Sparky growled. “They ran.”

“That's good.” I blinked. “Did I run away too?”

“You shouldn't have done it, vamp,” he growled.

“You've got spots.” He did have spots. Wolf Sparky looked sillier than any werewolf I'd ever seen. Coarse white fur covered most of his body, but it was speckled with dark black spots. He blurred. A large Dalmatian-spotted blob hit me in the face with something long and thin with a curved end: a hockey stick. I was grateful, because when the world stopped spinning everything was a little clearer.

He grabbed me by the face, palming my head like a basketball, and tossed me through the double doors that led out to the rink.

Other blobs expanded. They were angry fuzzy blobs with white and green middles, kind of cute, really. My vision cleared a little and a very wavery Wolf Sparky loomed over me. A long trail of drool dangled from his muzzle and pooled on the souvenir jersey I was wearing. I wondered if it was the one I'd bought for Rachel, and if so, how I'd ended up in it.

“You have a droopy ear,” I observed. “Did you know that you had…have a droopy ear? I think your mom got a little drunk one night and…oof.”

That time he grabbed my leg and tossed me out onto the ice. I felt kind of bad about mentioning the whole parentage thing. I'm kind of a happy chatty drunk and my mouth gets away from me. Cold hard ice broke my fall and I slid along the freshly resurfaced rink. The top layer hadn't quite refrozen and the glacial water soaked into my clothes.

No crowd cheered the Howlers when they took to the ice this time, but I was impressed. “You guys just skate around me, okay?” I told them. “I don't think I can get up.”

I don't know who took the next several shots at me, but they must have been pissed off about something, or maybe…“I'm starting to think you guys don't like me,” I complained.

“He's totally hosed,” growled a dark black one with a bobbed tail and brown highlights like a Doberman's. “Just stake him and get it over with.”

Trying to roll over, I lost my balance and fell to the ground with a loud crack.

“Lookit. One of his eyes is blinking.” Strobelike red light flashed rapidly on and off, upsetting my stomach.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” I said to no one in particular.

“He's gonna yack,” one of them said, gliding past me.

“Vampires can't yack,” called number 45 from one side. Each of them moved as easily on the ice bare-pawed as they had with skates, but in wolf form their strides were more confident, their reflexes better.

“You guys ought to skate like this all the time,” I said. “Then you might win a game or two.” That didn't come out the way I had meant it.

A sharp pain in my side sent me spinning along the ice quickly. Sparky was driving me down the rink, a human-size hockey puck, across the blue line, straight through center ice, and toward the goal.

“Yeah, Sparky!” someone shouted.

Two of the other Howlers, Fordman and Hartaff judging by the jerseys, skated in to try and steal me from Sparky with more resounding thuds. One of my arms gave way with a crack and pain lanced up to my shoulder; my blood was smeared all over the ice.

“Okay, fellas,” I said. “That's enough.”

Sparky brought me in, shoving me across the goal line and into the boards. About that time, I realized they weren't just playing, they were fighting. My growl was louder than Sparky's.

“Stake him!” Fordman shouted. Sparky's custom stick plunged into my back and out through the front of my souvenir jersey. I didn't want to think about how much strength it took to jam a blunt handle completely through a man's torso. Red illumination flashed on the boards in spurts. Off. On. Off. On. Blood wine erupted violently from my throat. It ran down the stick and onto the ice. The glow from my eyes blinked twice more and stayed on.

“Biscuit in the basket, baby!” several of them roared.

“Get the cooler.” The hockey stick wasn't made of real wood, but I was still moving far too slowly. Two of them ran off of the ice and then came back toward me with a cooler.

“This ain't football,” I complained. “What the hell are you guys—” They dumped the cooler over my head. It burned like acid. Holy water. I think they thought it would kill me. It was a good try. It would have worked on a Soldier, or possibly on a Master, but as I keep trying to remind everyone, I'm a Vlad and we are damn near indestructible.

“I am so fucking killing you guys,” I said as my skin peeled away and caught fire. Holy water is powerful stuff. It ate right through my clothes, my skin, through the bone, mixing with my liquid remains and flowing out onto the ice like gruesome pancake batter.

The blood wine I'd spewed mixed with the puddle of water and with, well, me, turning the mixture into a bubbling red mess, with smoke pouring off the top as I sizzled and popped like a fried egg. I knew I was going to survive, but a vampire who has been melted is in bad shape even if it doesn't send him to the great beyond. We need blood to re-form. Fortunately for me, I was lying in a puddle of it.

As the holy water boiled away, the smoke stopped and bit by bit the grotesque liquefied mass developed solid chunks, drawing in on itself. I floated above the ice, looking down on my body, detached and clearheaded, glowing that same ghostly blue I'd been the one time I tried to turn to mist.

Being melted was pretty damn low on my list of sobriety quick fixes, but it did the job. My bones re-formed first. One of the werewolves rammed another hockey stick through my ribs where my heart was going to be. I guess he thought the stick was made of wood, but it was some high-tech plastic. Plastic doesn't do dick.

My body lay naked on the ice and I found myself drawn back into it, momentarily disoriented, but regaining my senses just fast enough to pull the stick out of my chest before my clothes came back.

It's good to be a badass. Using my anger as a focus, I turned into a bat. It took longer than usual and felt different, like when your dick falls asleep because your underwear is too tight and there is that long agonizing wait followed by a pins and needles sensation exactly where you never want one. I flew out over the rink and landed in the stands. When I changed shape again, my clothes were back. I'd instinctively regenerated my usual outfit, but at the high price of what felt like every last drop of blood in my body.

I missed the Howlers jersey, but it was okay. I was over them. Now these assholes had it coming. They'd lured me back to the locker room with Roger's unwitting help, used me as a hockey puck, and been the first group of people to ever melt me down with holy water. Worst of all, they'd made me sit through a piss-poor game of hockey. There is no excuse for bad hockey.

They'd make it up to me though. I was hungry.

This time, I wouldn't make the mistake of holding back like I had with the guys who'd wrecked my Mustang. I was tired of talking, and at this point the hunger wouldn't have let me hold back anyway. I felt the blackout coming, bitter and cold like winter rain. Yep, these jerks had it coming. They had it coming Dracula style.

As my vision started to blur, I hovered at the edge of awareness just long enough to make one last taunt. “So are you motherfuckers going to come and get me or do I have to hang a steak around my neck?”

HIDDEN DEPTHS

T
he whole no-reflection thing was really starting to grate on my nerves. I needed mirrors. There is only so much a girl can tell about how she looks by craning her neck and bending over backward. The other girls were busy, so I did the best I could on my own and then called up front to ask Talbot if he had a few minutes to come to the back.

“Why?”

“I need someone to check my makeup and stuff; the other girls were busy, so I tried to do it myself, but—”

“Ten minutes.” He laughed and hung up.

While I waited, I finished up the second pint of blood he'd brought me earlier. It tasted a little funny, but I didn't want to have to argue with Talbot over it when he came back to check me out. I was tired of being cooped up in the club and I wanted to go outside for a while after my set. After I finished the blood, I still had five minutes to wait, so I practiced popping my claws and making my eyes glow. It was cool and all, but I wanted to know more about what I could do. I wondered what would happen if I used a power that I didn't know how to undo. What if I turned into a bat and got stuck that way?

When Talbot came into the bedroom, I retracted my claws and let my eyes turn back to normal.

His smell wasn't human and it was thrilling to be near him, to not know what he was. He looked me up and down and I studied him in return.

“You look fine,” he said. He turned and started to leave again.

“Wait. Talbot, do you have a few minutes?”

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Why?”

“I wanted to try and figure out what other powers I have.” I walked over to the dresser and fiddled with my hairbrush. He showed up clearly in the mirror even though my reflection would have been blocking his.

He closed the door and turned back to me. “You don't need me to do that.”

I looked down at the brush in my hand. It was silver. For a moment, I was lost in the shiny surface. My grandmother had left it to me when she'd died. She had always intended it for Rachel, but cancer had taken my sister away from us earlier than anyone could have expected. She was so angry at the end, she blamed me for not finding a way to save her.

“I'm afraid,” I admitted.

Talbot came closer, put his hand near my shoulder, and then pulled it away. I could feel the heat of him behind me. It was like standing with my back to the fire on a cold winter day. I leaned into him involuntarily and closed my eyes. “You feel so warm.”

Gentle, but firm, he pushed me away from him. I was off balance and I almost didn't catch myself. Something was wrong. “You don't want to play the kind of games I like, Tabitha,” he told me softly.

How embarrassing! Did I have to throw myself at every warm-bodied man that crossed my path? I shivered. “I'm sorry. It just feels so cold.”

“You'll get used to it.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and I realized that it was the first time that I had ever seen Talbot sit down. He was always leaning on things, but never actually sitting.

“So how do I do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

I put down the brush and threw my hands up in the air. “Do anything! I've read lots of books, but it isn't something that Eric ever talked about. I could ask Roger, but—”

“You don't want Eric to get jealous.” He nodded. “I get you. Which do you like best: bats, cats, fleas, wolves, frogs, or do you want to try for something funky, like a virus?”

I turned around and leaned up against the dresser. “What?”

“You don't know yet how powerful you are. If you're a Soldier or a Drone, you might only be able to do the first one you try, or you might not be able to do any of them. You might not get a choice, but if you do get a choice and you can only do one…” He shrugged. “Well, they say that's what happened to Froggy.”

“So, it'd better be one that I like,” I mused. “Okay. Wait, a virus?”

He laughed. When he did, I could tell that even with his fangs retracted, his canines were a little longer than normal. “It's been done. I guess it was a good way to avoid hunters back in the day, but it sounds kind of gross to me.”

“Can I try something else weird? Is there a bird, like a raven or something?”

“Try it and see,” he urged.

“Do I need to take my clothes off?”

“Some do, but why don't you just go ahead and try it with clothes for now.” He got up and walked around the room, arms outstretched like a big kid playing airplanes. “Close your eyes and think of yourself as a bird. See yourself flying over the city, like in a helicopter ride only the wind is underneath your wings. You aren't in some metal cockpit. There is no glass between you and the air, no metal. It's you, just you.”

I spread my arms like he had done. At first I felt silly, but gradually, I really could see it. My body tightened, wrenching painfully in on itself, my skin an overfilled balloon that might pop any second, and then the wind was beneath my wings; I was free! It was so sudden that I screamed in surprise, but no human sound escaped my lips. It was a bird's cry. I had done it! Of course, I didn't know how to fly, so I fluttered to the ground. When I landed, I felt dizzy and confused, sick to my stomach. Talbot pounced, catching me between his hands and eyeing me closely with his fangs out and his cat eyes flashing. “Gotcha!”

Willing myself back to human size didn't work. I flapped my wings ineffectually and started pecking at his fingers with my beak. If I'd had fangs I would have bitten him. As it was, I tried for his eyes, but he was too far away.

“If you're a Master vampire,” he gloated, “you'll be able to turn back even though I have you trapped. Just concentrate. Think about being humanoid. Picture yourself biting my hand or something.”

It didn't work. I couldn't focus.

“Try it. Picture yourself dancing onstage.”

Nope.

“All right,” he said as he set me down on the bed. “Try it now.”

Instantly, I was myself again. “You bastard!”

“The test isn't definitive, but you're probably a Soldier.” He stood up and grinned. “Care to try for a mouse?”

I did not care to try for a mouse. Instead I tried for a cat. I pictured myself as a large gray kitty I'd had as a little girl. I loved that cat more than anybody in my family. I used to sit and pet him for hours and listen to him purr. He was the only thing that was mine and mine alone. He never let anyone else touch him, especially not Rachel. It was almost as if Mr. Fuzzy Bottom had some kind of never-ending feud with her. Cats in general didn't like her; maybe they knew something I didn't.

The change was not as sudden as before; quick, but not instant, like a slow collapse into a nice warm ball of fur. It was a relief to be warm again. Talbot took a step away from the bed, his eyes wider than usual and his mouth open. I looked down at my paws. They were gray, just like Mr. Fuzzy Bottom's. I preened myself at Talbot and gazed at him haughtily.

“Okay, so maybe you are a Master vampire,” he allowed. “You could have been too panicked to make the change before.”

Master vampire or not, I could turn into a bird and I could turn into a cat. My chest felt funny, though. It sort of vibrated. “Meow,” I told Talbot. “My chest feels funny,” is what I had meant to say. My heart was beating! I was breathing! I stumbled and accidentally sat down.

“I'll just bet it does,” Talbot whispered. He reached over and grabbed me, holding up my kitty-cat self to the mirror so that I could see my reflection.

I could see my reflection!

“Meow!” I said, meaning “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit, indeed,” he said as he put me down on the dresser, in front of the mirror. I put a paw against the mirror and stared at myself. Even though it wasn't the human me, just being able to show up in a mirror, to see a reflection that belonged to me, made me feel safe and warm inside. I rubbed up against the mirror and purred at myself.

“Meow,” I said to myself, meaning “Hello, me.”

Veruca opened the door and glanced around the room. Her makeup was sloppy and her shoes didn't go with her dress. I could tell that she wasn't happy.

“What's a cat doing in here?” Veruca asked. Talbot just looked at her. Veruca's lip curled. “Tell Tabitha not to get too full of herself, Talbot. Just because she's been turned, she's nothing special. She's supposed to go on in half an hour. Then it's serving drinks and doing lap dances just like everybody else. I'm taking the night off.”

“A little hard on your new sister in undeath, aren't you?” Talbot asked. “As a matter of fact, since you're here, she doesn't have to go onstage at all….”

Veruca flipped Talbot off and pulled up her shirt. Claw marks crisscrossed her stomach and from the look of them, they went around to the back.

“What happened?” I meowed.

“What happened?” Talbot repeated for me. Interesting. Talbot understood cat speak and Veruca didn't. Was he a werecat? A weretiger? What else could he be?

“None of your business, asshole!” Veruca slammed the door and stalked off down the hall. The sound echoed in my head. My vision blurred and for a moment there were two furry “me”s in the mirror.

“Meow?” I said, and I had no idea what I meant. Something was definitely wrong.

I rolled over on my back and swatted at the pretty rainbows and the colored lights that had appeared in the air. There was that same funny taste in my mouth, like the second pint of blood. In the distance I heard Talbot's voice calling my name.

The rainbows started moving faster and I tried harder to catch them. Then, I heard someone barfing. I wondered if it was me. At some point, I fell off of the dresser. Talbot caught me. The psychedelic swirling stopped, replaced by a vibration deep in my skull. There was a sound like when a monitor blinks out. My skin went numb all at once and little sparks danced in front of my eyes. Talbot blurred in hazy motion lines, faded, and then was gone completely.