Blood and Bullets (2 page)
2
I hate stakeouts. Not stakeouts like vampire executions. Those suck too, but only because they're messy. I mean, seriously. During the day while they sleep, vampires turn into giant bags of blood. It turns into blood-a-palooza when you go to stake the undead sons of bitches. Seriously, I usually wear a raincoat.
No, I hate sitting on my ass waiting for the person I'm after to come out of where they are supposed to be. Some cheesy writer would call me a man of action and say that being idle went against my nature. Mom just said I had a short attention span. Either way, on a stakeout, you can't really read a book or knit or anything else because you have to keep watch. If you have a long wait, it leads to severe boredom. Besides, I don't get paid by the hour. The good thing about a stakeout is that you have plenty of time to think.
I was at the head of an industrial park that the folder said was a probable location for Nyteblade's base of operation. According to the sticky note inside the folder I had, Nyteblade would be in an alley between buildings D and E at 10
P.M.
I had no idea who wrote the note or how they knew he would be there, but it was the only time written in the folder. So that was where I planned on meeting him. There were a few minutes to kill before I headed to the meeting place. That would still get me there early. I didn't want to be the last one to arrive. Sometimes that will get you killed. Looking around the industrial park, I was sure the alley would be just lovely.
P.M.
I had no idea who wrote the note or how they knew he would be there, but it was the only time written in the folder. So that was where I planned on meeting him. There were a few minutes to kill before I headed to the meeting place. That would still get me there early. I didn't want to be the last one to arrive. Sometimes that will get you killed. Looking around the industrial park, I was sure the alley would be just lovely.
This was not the best part of town. The buildings of the industrial park were old. Red brick faded to a drab pink by time. Bushes that were once features of the landscaping had been allowed to run their course and now stood sentinel with branches overgrown, gnarled, and tangled. Jutting out haphazardly into the parking lot, they waited to grab you if you walked too close. More lights were out than on around the buildings, barely breaking up deep shadows in the corners with their baleful, jaundiced glare. Litter danced with dry leaves in the night breeze.
I watched a plastic sack from a liquor store swirl around a dead light pole for a few minutes until it fell victim to the out-of-control bushes. Glenn Kaiser and Darrell Mansfield pulled voices together to sing Blind Willie Johnson's “Nobody's Fault But Mine” softly on the Comet's radio and I thought about vampire slayers.
There are a lot of people who find out vampires or monsters are real and decide to fight them. Once you discover that the monster in your closet can and will eat your face off, the normal person has one of three reactions.
One, you live the rest of your life in fear of the dark. You never go out at night, you are never alone, and you go to church much, much more than you ever did before. You may have survived your encounter, but you never truly
live
again.
live
again.
Two, you embrace it. There are people who try to assimilate themselves with monsters. A lot of Goth clubs are gathering places for vampire lovers. The lycanthropes get their stalkers too; people who want to be furry or feathered or scaly once a month. This reaction usually happens with the monsters who are predatory but do have the ability to blend in with humans to hunt. Vampires, lycanthropes, Nephilim, and Feyâthose are the ones with the biggest fan clubs. I mean, you never find a fan club for a Chimera or a troll. Trolls get no play at all.
And it gets more complicated. Lycanthropes are people most of the time, and like people, they are good and bad; but being a lycanthrope doesn't make you evil. Vampires are always evil. I have never met one that wasn't a monster. Nephilim
can
be good; you would think they would be since they are half Angel, half human. Typically though, they are the most evil bastards in the world, but they
can
be good if they choose to. Fey can even be good. In fact, most of the problem with the Fey is that they're mischievous and they do not think like humans. They are like aliens, and even though they have been fascinated with humans for centuries, they just do not comprehend how we work. They also suffer a lack of understanding about how fragile humans can be.
can
be good; you would think they would be since they are half Angel, half human. Typically though, they are the most evil bastards in the world, but they
can
be good if they choose to. Fey can even be good. In fact, most of the problem with the Fey is that they're mischievous and they do not think like humans. They are like aliens, and even though they have been fascinated with humans for centuries, they just do not comprehend how we work. They also suffer a lack of understanding about how fragile humans can be.
Which brings me to choice three. You decide that you are going to mount up and fight the good fight against evil. This was what I did. People find out monsters exist and then decide that they will become monster hunters. The problem that they soon discover is that a normal human is no match for a monster. Quickly, they get themselves killed in their pursuit.
I should know because that's what happened to me. Vampires seem to inspire the most monster fighting in this world, probably because of all the books and movies about them. I have taken out my fair share of vamps, but it is not the only thing I do. There are few proclaimed vampire slayers and they range all kinds. Anita out in St. Louis, but she has a lot of stuff going on, not just vampire executions. Cat and Bones run their crew killing vampires and do a fine job of it. I hear whispers about the Blue Woman now and again, but it's hard to pull the fact from the fiction on that one. There's some folks in California. In L.A. and a small town east of it, who do mostly vampire slaying, but I haven't met them yet. The black guy and old man combo who roam around do nothing but vampires. From what I hear they have a personal stake in it, so to speak. Sam and Dean will tussle with a vampire, but usually they are chasing down demons.
There are some more monster hunters scattered across the country and the globe, but really very few considering just how many monsters there are out there. Most of us don't specialize in vampires only. This Nyteblade guy seemed to. That is one reason why I was there. This guy should know that the vampires were gunning for him. I would have liked someone to tell me if the shoe were on the other foot, professional courtesy and all. I was also hoping he would be able to help me find out exactly what the hell happened earlier. Honestly, I was a little excited to meet this guy. Even though the notes were sparse and some even unintelligible, they made him sound like a true badass. Almost as good as me.
Now, I know that sounds egotistical, and it probably is, but the fact stands that I am
very
good at what I do. Years ago, after I discovered that the world was not just people and all the monsters didn't hide under the bed, I had an experience that made me more than human.
very
good at what I do. Years ago, after I discovered that the world was not just people and all the monsters didn't hide under the bed, I had an experience that made me more than human.
While in the midst of hunting the monster that killed my wife and children, I rescued an Angel who was being held captive by the bad guys. Yes, a real, honest-to-God Angel of The Lord. The bad guys had her captive and had been raping her, trying to impregnate her and create more Nephilim. Nephilim are the offspring of humans and Angels or demons. Usually they are powerful as hell and evil as shit. It was a Nephilim bastard named Slaine who ritualistically slaughtered my family.
I don't want to talk about that part right now.
Some things are still too painful, especially after my mental throwback earlier tonight.
Anyway, I couldn't walk away from seeing the Angel in that position, so I rescued her. Being just a human against the monsters, I ended up getting myself killed. She returned the rescue and healed me with a transfusion of blood, or whatever it is Angels have for blood.
It worked. Sometimes I think too well. Now I'm faster and stronger than a regular human. My night vision is near perfect, and I have a sense about magick and other things supernatural. High resistance to magick and monster powers came with the benefits package also. I still get outmatched by the monsters sometimes, but not being completely human keeps me from getting dead. I know I will die doing this one day, but after losing my family, I just don't give a damn. When I do die, I can finally go be with them. There is no killing myself to get to them because that would be a mortal sin. So I will keep hunting monsters until that day comes.
Finally, I had to get out of the car. Turning the ignition off killed the music. I can't stand to leave keys in the car. Call me paranoid, but it keeps me sane to have them in my pocket. Standing, I stretched and leaned on the Comet, rolling the situation around in my head one more time.
Why would a vampire even think that I would work for them? I'm not a vampire hunter. I don't seek them out, but I've killed every one of the evil bastards I've run into. Most people have a romantic view of vampires. They picture them as the eternal lover full of longing and dark passion. Thank you very much Hollywood, but that is
not
the way it is in real life.
not
the way it is in real life.
And vampires never sparkle unless they just ate a stripper.
I think it makes people feel better than knowing the truth. The truth is, vampires are all evil. Some are annoying, small-time evil, and a few are serious, big-time evil, but they can't fight their nature. Evil is as evil does and all. I've heard the same stories as you about good vamps who still have their souls, but I haven't met them and don't really believe they exist. If ever I do meet one, hopefully I won't shoot his ass before he can prove it.
It really bothered me that a vampire tried to hire me. I am a man who gets paid, but I do not work for the monsters.
Never have, never will.
Plus, reading the file, unless she was completely off the mark, they had this guy's base of operations pinned down. Why not just take him out themselves? Vampires are like the mafia of the supernatural world. They run in packs, families, and blood lines. Hell, any crap reason they can find to band together and make power plays are taken advantage of. I haven't really had a reason to make enemies with any of the families yet, but I'm sure that will change. Maybe it had and I didn't know it. Vampires usually do not work alone. The one in the parking lot was by herself, but I had serious doubts she was alone. Being a fairly freshly turned one by the way she became dust, she had a master somewhere. I needed more information, which is why I was going to find this Nyteblade guy. He was in the equation somewhere and now so was I.
I looked down at my watchâbig hand on the nine, small hand on the ten. My hands skimmed down my body, checking to make sure all my weapons were in place and to make a mental check of anything I might want to get out of the trunk of the Comet. Always the Desert Eagle rode under my left arm. The right side of the shoulder holster had a row of pouches that held extra clips for the pistol. The weight of the clips helped balance out the weight of the gun. Four clips of nine bullets gave me forty-six bullets for the Desert Eagle with the clip in the gun. That should be enough for a meeting that was supposed to be just talking.
Hey, I like to be prepared. The old southern saying “It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it” definitely applies to ammunition.
At my lower back was a Taurus Bulldog .44 Magnum snub-nosed revolver set for a left-hand draw. The Taurus is my backup gun. It's a small gun and holds only five shots, but because it's a revolver, it is dead reliable. The Desert Eagle is a great gun, but automatics jam and they always do it at the worst possible time. If that happens to me, I want my backup to be fail-safe.
Revolvers fire every time, guaranteed. Pull the trigger and a bullet comes out. I picked the Taurus Bulldog because it was a small revolver that held .44 caliber bullets. I love my .357, but the backup gun is a worst-case scenario option, and in my opinion, there is no better manstopper than a .44 caliber bullet. Of course they were Orion Outfitter bullets. Silver jacketed, but these bullets have a drop of phosphorus wax-sealed in the hollow point rather than the silver nitrate the Desert Eagle carries.
Phosphorus is dangerous stuff, even a drop of it. Exposed to air, phosphorus burns and keeps burning. Almost everything supernatural is vulnerable to fire. Everything except demons, that is; but bullets don't work on demons anyway.
Since a vampire started all of this, I also had a pocketful of small plastic vials with wax-sealed rubber stoppers in my coat. The kind that shooters come in at a bar and look like little test tubes. They were filled with holy water. Blessed crucifixes hung around my neck and curled in my other pocket, making me as ready as I could be.
Cool air ruffled my goatee, tickling my nose. Fall in the South, where the day may be 75 degrees, but when the sun goes down, so does the temperature. Pulling my leather jacket closed, I settled it around the straps from the shoulder holster. I had killed as much time as possible, so I began heading to building D.
The alley was everything I imagined and then some. Buildings D and E sat close together, back-to-back. The alley between them was about ten feet across and filled with garbage. I entered the open end, the other was blocked by a brick wall that had an overflowing Dumpster in front of it. Trash bubbled out over the top and spilled to the ground where it spread like water. From the looks of it, the other residents just began throwing bags of garbage at the Dumpster once it had filled, not worried about it piling up.
The stench of rotting food filled the alleyway, making me breathe through my mouth. I said a quick thank you to Jesus, Mary, and all the saints above that it wasn't the dead heat of summer. If it were, the smell would have been unbearable. The trash wasn't all in bags either.
Scattered down the length of the alley were wads of paper, old carpeting, and empty and broken bottles. Here and there were piles of what looked like spoiled meat. Wooden pallets had once been stacked neatly but now sprawled across the midpoint. The only light spilled from one floodlight down the mouth of the alley. Deep shadows covered the nooks and crannies created by piles of trash and the doorways along each building.
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