Tomorrow's Dead: The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles (20 page)

“You’ll really leave us just like that.”

“Yes.  For the greater good.  I’ll be back for you, Percy.”

“Did you ever really love me?” she asked in a pained voice.

“You’re like my sister!”

“Why can’t you be satisfied?  Why do you have to seek danger?  What are you trying
to prove?”

“I’m trying to stop Peter Nesbitt.  He’s a fucker.  I love you guys, but I gotta keep
Christmas alive and Nesbitt everlastingly dead.”

Percy went to her bedroom and slammed the door shut.  Poe kicked herself for being
so selfish.  Over the years she’d learned to listen to her heart and instincts.  Leaving
was the right thing to do.  She hung a Do Not Disturb sign outside her bedroom door
and prepared her backpack with dozens of clips and as many incendiaries she could
get her hands on.  In terms of weapons she was only bringing her .45s and wrist knives. 
She stuffed water and clothing to hide the contents of her bag. 

At midnight she snuck out of the loft and biked her way to the Staples Center sports
arena where Rufus should be waiting at one o’clock.  She’d broadcasted to everyone
that she was leaving the following evening to shirk possible sabotage of her trip. 
Her foresight paid off.  Rufus was waiting for her in front of the Lakers home court
without any naysayers around.  Within minutes they were in the air.

“They’re gonna kill me for this,” said Rufus.

“Don’t I know it,” Poe said into the mike.  “But think of the kids opening presents
while you’re beaten black and blue and stuffed in your copter.”

“Thanks a lot, you jerk,” he said.  “You better come back.  I agreed to do this because
you’re a superhero.  I mean, holy shit, I used to think I was a superhero until you
yanked my ear off.”

Poe grinned.  He had later eaten her earlobe as payback.  “I’m coming back.  Five
days.  Just don’t forget to pick me up.”

“Will do.”

“And lots of people think I’m a scrawny mortal who should stay home and wait for calamity
to show up.  But that just won’t do.  The creep has to go.”

***

Percy woke up and noticed a note under her door.  It read:

Percy, I love you.  You’ll always be my little sister.  Think fondly of me until I
get back.  Less than a week.

The girl cursed stridently, a habit she’d picked up from Poe, then jumped out of bed
to put on clothes.  She pulled on a sweater draped on a rocking chair and dashed out
the door, down to the elevator and out the building.  She hurdled over obstacles like
shopping carts filled with Christmas ornaments.  She made it to the Biltmore Hotel
in two minutes flat and with desperation took the elevator to the 12
th
floor.  She was going to kick in door 1207 to show how dire the situation was, but
Sainvire opened the door calmly when he heard her pounding feet and graciously let
her inside. 

“Fucking hell!” shouted Percy.  “Poe’s gone.  She pulled the wool over our eyes and
left a day early.” 

Sainvire’s brows furrowed.  It seemed like he was struggling with an alligator in
the silence of his mind.  The vampire’s room was spartan, just towers of books on
the floor.  Not a complete surprise to Percy.  The master vampire had always been
downtone, humble, and without airs, perhaps reason enough for humans to trust him. 

“When do you think she left?” asked the vampire calmly.

“After midnight.  I thought I heard the front door closing.  But then again I’ve been
so comfortable that I sleep through anything these days.  You think Rufus could’ve
flown her?”

“Who else would have the balls?” said the vampire with a sudden violent look in his
eyes.  “I have to come after her.  You realize that, Percy?”

“Yes, of course, Kaleb.  You’re the only one strong enough to protect her and stupid
enough to go.  I came here to ask you to look for her.  I would go myself, but I have
the dog and pig to take care of.” 

“Of course I’ll go.  You needn’t ask.  I love her, too, I’m sure you know.”  Sainvire
walked to the bathroom and removed his black shirt.  His misshapen shoulder startled
the girl.  His body looked hard and well corded.  His dark coat covered the vampire’s
powerful form.

“I know.  That’s why I came to you first.”

To Percy’s horror the she watched the vampire pick up an electric shaver and run it
through his hair.  A completely bald man with flinty gray eyes stared back at her
from the mirror.  His strong jaw was more pronounced and his eyes stony.  The slash
on his upper lip between the nose and mouth that Poe rudely referred as a harelip
stood pronouncedly on his face.  Sainvire had taken shrapnel to the face and shoulder
during the Spanish Civil War.  “I look damn vicious bald.  I don’t want to scare Poe
into thinking I’m a skinhead.”

“Don’t worry, she won’t be afraid.  She’ll scare you first with her disguise.”  She
brushed away hair from the vampire’s shoulder and neck.  “She’s brown with a wig and
a gigolo mustache.  I don’t exactly know what look she’s going for, but I know you’ll
be the one offended.”

Without asking permission, Percy opened Sainvire’s wardrobe and began tossing clothes
to the floor until she found what she deemed appropriate.  “Black t-shirt, black hoodie,
and blue Dickies pants.  You’ll blend in better than that I’m-a-vampire coat of yours.” 
She tossed the clothes on the bed.  When Sainvire didn’t move, she raised a fist and
said, “Bloody hell!  Put on the clothes.  Time is running out!”  Bloody hell was a
curse she had learned from Maclemar.  How she loved the words.  How she missed the
Welshman.

The vampire blinked.  Mousy little Percy had grown a spine trying to protect Poe. 
He was proud of her in so many ways.

Sainvire dutifully removed his clothing in front of Percy who turned her back to him
and put on the ones chosen by the angry yet fearful girl.  One side of the walnut
closet contained an array of guns and knives.  Percy chose an Astra A-75 Firefox and
a clip belt holster to carry it in.  She took all five magazines in the collection
and tossed them, along with the gun, on the bed.

“Take those with you.  You might have your scary clip-on nails, but sometimes it’s
faster to shoot when the enemy’s more than five feet away.”

“Thanks for the lesson,” said Sainvire with a grin, sheathing the 9mm into the holster. 

“Sorry I’m so rude.  My teachers are foul-mouthed and hard-headed,” she apologized. 
“Don’t forget your Plasmacore.” 

“I’ve got three full flasks in the drawer,” answered Sainvire.  “And don’t worry about
rudeness.  The past two decades have been beyond rude to all of us.”

“Keep hunching so you look like insecure and bored out of your mind.  Good.  When
you do that, your warped shoulder doesn’t look so bad.”

“Percy, I appreciate your pointers.  Now go away and let me get out of here.”

“She loves you, you know,” said the girl.  “More than Maclemar even.  Everyone can
see that.”

The vampire paused for a second and nodded.  “I love her, too.  I swear I’ll never
disappoint her again.”

The girl nodded.  On impulse she got on her toes and hugged the master vampire and
kissed his cold cheek.  “Save her, Kaleb.  She’s the only family I have.”

Sainvire kissed the girl’s forehead and vowed, “I promise.  Now get back to Penny
and Chops.”

Sainvire sought Joseph and explained the dilemma.  Joseph, shocked at his friend’s
baldness, cursed.  “You’ll need aircraft for that distance.  I’m going to airlift
you to San Francisco myself, dammit!”

“No.  I’ll fly myself.”

“What do you know about aeronautical maps?  And most importantly, can you even fly
a helicopter?”

Sainvire shrugged.  “Thanks to that Judas, Rufus, I’m a capable choppers and small
plane pilot.  I’ll just follow the coastline north.”

“Hmm,” muttered Joseph without any faith.  Despite himself, he smiled.  “I’ll hold
the fort, brother.  Just come back with my insane part-Pinay sister.”

Sainvire and Joseph clapped each other’s back.  The two had been best friends for
decades.  Sainvire pushed open Joseph’s window and flew toward the Santa Monica Freeway,
one of the many airstrips around town. 

That was when he spotted Rufus chewing gum and polishing his Cessna.  Rufus’ jaw froze
when he noticed the elementally angry bald Sainvire approach him.

“Whoa, hold on there!  She asked me to tell you that if you bust me up for flying
her, she’ll come back and stick a broom handle where lights don’t shine.”  He raised
his hands.  “Swear she said that.”

“Fuck!” said Sainvire who reserved the F-word for extraordinary occasions.  “I can’t
hurt you.  Her word is law.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Rufus. 

“Better gas her up, Rufus, because you’re flying me to the same exact spot you dropped
my Poe off to.  I expect to be there in 40 minutes or I’ll eat your other earlobe.”

Scratching his head, Rufus said, “Yes, boss.  I thought you’d say something like that.” 
At least I’m still alive
, he thought.

***

Poe hid out in an abandoned tortilla factory to await morning.  In her mind for the
twentieth time she reviewed what Victoria had revealed.

“It’s known that Plasmacore is heavily produced in the Mission District, Chinatown,
and Hunter’s Point.  But really, most vampires have been making the juice in their
own homes.”

“What about the rebels?  Where do I find them?

“Like I said, they were easygoing vampires before who mostly grew up in the Bay Area. 
A lot of them attended Berkeley and San Francisco State when they were alive.  I believe
the underground has grown to over 500 undead around the city.  The numbers are growing
because of discontent with their watered-down food.  Once they taste Plasmacore, energy
surges through them, and it makes them feel more satisfied.  If they keep up a steady
intake, some vamps develop the ability to walk in the sun.”

“So that’s it?  They join the fight because they like the energy boost?  That’s kind
of lame.  You don’t join a cause for that.”

“You’re right.  Most every vampire has seen a blood farm, and believe me it depresses
them.  These skinny, bedraggled food sources are unforgettable.   Now that most humans
are dying from blood diseases and bone degeneration, vampires are ready for another
way.  Also, they hate the SF Council and master vampires.  Their superciliousness
and high society Vlad the Impaler shit is a big turnoff.  I’ll say it again. Almost
everyone in San Francisco is laidback and unpretentious unless they’re officious.”

“About these rebels.  How can I contact them?”

“I wouldn’t know exactly since I worked for blue bloods, but I guess talking to custodians
would help.  They’re in a tough spot, but they help the movement.

Poe had Victoria circle the San Francisco airstrip on a worn map she had found in
the library.  “Where’s the armory?” she asked.

“I guess it’s at City Hall, but I’m not sure.”

“Alright.  Two years ago a bunch of Hummers and clearing machinery attacked a farm
in Gilroy where we were hiding out.  Where do they keep them?”

Victoria circled three places in the city.  One of them was the Tenderloin.  “You
better wear thermals and thick socks, Poe.  Otherwise you might freeze to death before
you get there.”

As Poe hugged herself in the tortilleria, she cursed the cold.  She’d worn three pairs
of socks, two layers of thermals, and her miserable vintage leather coat that provided
about as much heat as tepid tea.  Her teeth chattered.  Sleeping would be out of the
question for she was far too glacial and might find herself frozen to death in the
morning, so she focused her thoughts on Piper.  If she came back to Los Angeles alive,
she promised to bond with the child, teach Percy how to shoot, and be more helpful
to Sainvire and the Los Angeles Council.  And Sainvire staked a claim on her finally. 
She didn’t know whether to shout her happiness or to slap the vampire for being four
years late.

She sighed.  Poe imagined Sainvire and Maclemar cuddling her in her California Queen
mattress.  Her mind wandered to Sainvire brushing her hair, Maclemar massaging her
feet, and all three of them taking baths together in a heart-shaped bathtub. 
Is that too much to ask?
  Then she remembered Maclemar’s dead body at the hospital and almost retched.  She
was a sick person.

A rat that must’ve weighed at least two pounds ran over her foot, and Poe couldn’t
help but eek out a horrified scream.  “Fuck you, rat,” she whispered when her heartbeat
slowed, expecting vampires to come out and get her.  Unless they were daywalkers,
the dead walked at night and slept during the day.  She heard footsteps two minutes
later.  Poe reached inside her coat and tapped on the butt of her gun.  She couldn’t
possibly use it without alerting the vampires in the Mission area.  Victoria said
vamps but for the disorderly sort stayed away from the Mission.  For some ignorant,
unforgivable reason, she had forgotten to bring her silencers.  She’d have been surrounded
and strung out.

She fiddled with her wrist knives and an amazingly sharp eight-inch knife she’d filched
from Habib’s kitchen.

“I can smell you, girl,” said a youthful voice out of nowhere.  Her mouth suddenly
dry, Poe swallowed. 
He could tell I’m a girl.  Probably from the girly scream.

“Best to come out now because we’re too hungry to play,” said another creature with
a French-like accent.  “Dirty custodian or not, we’re going to eat you.”

Poe blinked three times and stood up.  “What’s up, my man?” she said in a horrible
accent that was a mix of ’70s black inflection and Cheech Marin.

The vampires reached her and looked her up and down.  They were both shaven and vicious
looking.  Iron cross rings and tattoos decorated their necks and arms.  “A male custodian?”
said the one with a youthful voice with a confused look on his face.  “A runaway?”