Zomblog 05: Snoe's War (25 page)

“So you recruited a little army?” Belinda left it in the air like a question.

“I didn’t need one…just one ambitious little soldier to flush you out. I should’ve known you’d be consorting with the likes of a corpse-eater.”

Ummm…I’m like right here
.

“And does the council know you’re dabbling with revenants?”

“You won’t be around long enough to hurl that accusation and I’ll put them down the moment I’ve ended you.”

“Yes, well, this territory has a highly respected psychic—”

“You mean Morgan?” The tall vampire laughed. It was a really ugly sound coming from somebody so elegant and pretty like her. “I’ve brought her replacement as well.”

“This seems a lot nastier that I think your boss had any idea of,” Lisa whispered. When had she climbed out of the car?

“My boss?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the two vamps that were still circling each other.

“Ummm…Morgan?”

“Morgan is
not
my boss.”

“She’s the one who hired you for this job, right?”

Well when you put it
that
way.

“Perhaps you should do something,” Lisa offered, putting her hand in the middle of my back and nudging me forward.

“Belinda looks like she may be able to handle this,” I argued and stepped back beside Lisa, giving her what I hoped was my don’t-you-dare-do-that-again glare.

“But how much will you get paid if Belinda does this while we stand here and watch?”

Good point.

“You got any ideas?” I asked.  I didn’t want to use my squirt gun because of the risk of splashing Belinda. Again, not that I was opposed to seeing something bad happen to her, just that I was fairly certain that Morgan wouldn’t like it.

“She didn’t care much for my cross,” Lisa offered.

“But that would just back her up or scare her away.”

“Oh!” Lisa turned and ran to the car. She dug around for a moment and came up with a large plastic jug. She jogged back and thrust it in to my hands.

“What would you have me do with this?”

“Vampire OCD,” Lisa said. “Maybe she’ll start counting them.”

“And what about Belinda?”

“Worry about that if it works.”

I guess it was worth a shot. I poured a handful of the tiny poppy seeds into my hand and gave the jug back to Lisa. Edging closer with what I assume to be the proper amount of caution that one would use while approaching a pair of pissed off vampires, I tossed the handful at their feet like I was feeding pigeons in the park.

It was actually sorta creepy the way they both froze.  Their heads craned over to me with similar looks of annoyance etched on their faces.

“What on earth are you doing?” Belinda said, her eyes a pair of blazing red orbs.

“Don’t you want to start counting them?” I asked with a weak shrug.

“What have you told this filthy corpse-eater?” The other vampire looked at Belinda with a raised eyebrow. Her face didn’t change much. Another vampire with the overly Botoxed look?
Hey! I’m not filthy!

“Oh please, Emma.” Belinda came out of her predatory crouch.” You know full well what a queen must do if there is an intruder in her territory.”

“But telling such things to a…ghoul.” Emma’s voice changed almost less than her facial expression, but she still managed to make the word ‘ghoul’ sound like it was something you’d wipe off your shoe. “Isn’t there an executioner in your district?” Emma likewise came out of her crouch. Now it was just weird.
Nothing to see here, officer, just a pair of female alpha-vampires chatting.

“There was…until he fell in with the dogs,” Belinda replied.

“How long ago?

“Couple months.”

“This is the fifth district to have its Psychic Executioner fall in with the lycans,” Emma said with her strange accent that made this conversation seem just a little too surreal.

An elbow in my ribs brought my attention back to Lisa. Her eyes flicked from my squirt gun to Emma.
Oh yeah!

I brought it up and aimed for the woman’s head. A stream of water arced in the night catching just enough of the moonlight that had just started peeking through the clouds to make it look like silver. Did I fail to mention that I was almost famous at fairs and carnivals? You know that midway game where you shoot water into the clown’s mouth and blow up a balloon, or make a racehorse move across the backdrop to a finish line? Well…I caught Emma in the temple.

Windows up and down the block—including the ones that were still intact on my car—shattered. Lisa actually collapsed to the ground. I wasn’t sure if that would have been enough to kill her on its own, I am still not well-versed in vampire regeneration (look at me with the big words!). Fortunately, when Lisa collapsed, she dropped a stake on the ground. I didn’t waste any time grabbing it. Emma was on her knees, smoke swirling around her like the dry ice fog on stage of just about any eighties hair metal band during the concert’s opening number.

I focused as good as a ghoul can in a heavy fog that smelled like roasting garbage and plunged the stake into the largest, darkest part of the shadowy figure. I heard about a dozen yelps or growls from all around. I’m guessing it was all of Emma’s revenants. A second later, she was little more than a pile of gritty vampire ash.

“What is your problem?” Belinda was in my face in the blink of an eye. I really hate the whole supersonic-vampire-speed thing.

“Umm…”

“I had the situation under control,” she said through barred fangs.

“How do you figure?” I really wanted to take a step back, but there was no way I’d
ever
give Belinda that sort of satisfaction.

“Is there anything Ava can do that won’t have you in a tizzy?” Lisa snapped, stepping up beside me. I appreciated the gesture and support, but this was so not the time. Plus…hadn’t she just fainted?

“Silence, human,” Belinda’s eyes never left mine, which is good, because I knew all it would take was a single look to put Lisa in a trance.

“Well the next time some vampire with an attitude shows up, don’t call me to sniff it out!” I huffed, spinning on a heel. I got to my car and stopped. It had no windows. “And this,” I turned to face Belinda, hiking a thumb over my shoulder, “goes on
your
bill.”

I didn’t even get to finish my sentence. She was gone. Not so much as a “thank you” or a “kiss my ass” or nothing. I opened up the driver’s side door, brushed most of the glass off my seat and started the car.

“Coming?” I snapped at Lisa.

She glanced around nervously. I think that was the first time she’d actually witnessed a vampire’s amazing speed. After brushing out her seat, Lisa climbed in and we drove home. It was like standing in a wind tunnel.

Walking into my apartment…sorry,
our
apartment…I could smell something in the air—a lingering aftersmell. Like when your granny comes over and your living room smells like cheap rose-scented perfume for the next couple of days.  Only, this was a dry, sterile smell. No, not clean, smartass, Sterile. There’s a difference.

Anyways, sitting on the coffee table in the living room was an envelope with my name. Inside was an ATM card and a five-digit code. I was okay with waiting until the next day, but Lisa insisted.

We drove to the bank. That did nothing to help my dark mood. I plugged in the card and punched the code:

WELCOME, AVA BIRCH!

I selected BALANCE:

YOUR ACCOUNT’S CURRENT TOTAL: $1,000,000.00

Lisa yelped. Of course, I thought she’d seen the balance.

“You’re gonna take out the max and then come with me, bitch,” a voice growled in my ear.

Yay! Dinner!

That Ghoul Ava

and The Queen of the Zombies

1

Same Ol’ Situation

“Do you have to play this crap so loud?” Lisa said with that petulance that only teen girls can truly master. It’s so sad. When we get older it just comes off as whiny or bitchy.

I pretended not to hear her. Not one thing that she could say or do was going to ruin my mood tonight. I was behind the wheel of my very first brand new car. No little tushies had planted themselves in this seat but mine. I had been assured that I was the very first person to test drive this little baby: A candy-apple red 2013 Corvette.

Now I’m not one of those girls who knows a lot about cars, so most of what the very cute salesman said just didn’t stick. I think he even had a fancy name for the color red that my car was painted. Don’t care.

I flew down the on-ramp that deposited me onto I-5 and went through the gears like I imagine those racecar drivers did when they zoomed around in circles. By the time I actually hit the freeway, I was on the high side of ninety miles per hour.

“Got your seatbelt on?” I asked. I wasn’t planning on getting into a wreck…but who did? Safety first!

“Try to remember that only one of us is guaranteed not to die if you wreck this thing,” Lisa yelled over the strains of the luscious Brett Michaels who was currently begging me to talk dirty to him. Trust me when I tell you,
that
would be the least of his worries.

She was referring to the fact that I am a ghoul. Now let me assure you, being a ghoul is absolutely nothing like being a zombie. As if. Zombies are nasty creatures that eat the living. I only eat the dead. See? Big difference.

Lisa Jenkins was a teenage runaway. However, I doubted that her parents would come looking for her any time soon. In the six months that she had lived with me, I learned enough to know that it was unlikely that they were even aware that she had left home. Her father was long gone, and her single mother was busy sleeping with every bus boy, waiter, and bartender at this dirty little all-night place in Southeast Portland.

I’d popped in once and the woman was letting some slob put his hands up her skirt every time she came to the table. When she brought the actual meal to the table and cleared away the five empty beer bottles to make room, I almost lost my proverbial lunch. It was fried chicken, and I know for a fact that he didn’t wash his hands before picking up that drumstick. And considering where that hand had just been…

But back to my dear friend and boon companion. (I don’t actually know what a ‘boon companion’ is, but I heard that term used on some show on the local Public Broadcasting channel where everybody spoke with English accents. It sounded smart, so I claimed it.) I met Lisa one night shortly after my transformation. She had been in a seedy hotel after just giving birth. Her “boyfriend”—a pervy forty-something that actually convinced her to dump the child in the garbage right after giving birth—made the mistake of answering the door when I knocked. Long story short, baby was rescued and eventually given a home, perv was killed
and then
eaten, and Lisa became my roommate.

It was around the time that I met Lisa when I was introduced to a whole part of society that most folks don’t realize exists under their noses. Call it supernatural or whatever you like, but things like ghouls, and ghosts, and vampires—like that snarky little bitch Belinda Yates—exist.

Some have gone on to sustain themselves through books like the one you are reading right now. You see, the best way to hide is in plain sight. You’d be surprised if I told you which of the other books in your collection are real; or at least based on real events in the lives of some of my fellow monsters. Yeah, most of them don’t like the “M” word, but I like to consider myself a bit more progressive.

I actually decided to join the ranks of the writer-types after my first little “adventure” where I was hired to deal with a rogue vampire that had designs on the aforementioned Belinda. Well…not really Belinda, more specifically, her Kiss. (A “Kiss” for the uninitiated is what vampires call their little groups or clubs…whatever.) I didn’t actually have to write, but Lisa thought it would be fun. She worries about the finances like nobody I have ever met and keeps telling me that the payday I got for taking care of Belinda’s “little problem” won’t last forever.

After I saw this car, I finally agreed that we needed an additional source of income. The only problem now was waiting for the next “job” from Morgan. For those of you who didn’t catch my first little attempt at telling a story, Morgan is the psychic for my region. Unlike the ones on television that lie about being able to tell your future, Morgan is for real. Apparently true psychics are able to detect any supernaturals in their district. I don’t know all of the details—mostly because she tells me very little—but I guess they act as some sort of mediator and boss for their given district.

The day I became a ghoul, I received a visit from Morgan. She kind of told me the rules. Mostly she went on about all the stuff I couldn’t do. Of course, it was good old Ava’s door that they knocked on when that vampire came in and started mucking things up.

By the time Billy Idol had told me all about what a great day it would be for a
White Wedding
, and the Go-Gos encouraged me to take a
Vacation
, we were home. And here was the reason we needed Morgan to show up with another job…or people needed to start buying these books. Home was no longer the dirty little apartment that I’d rented while I was a busty waitress with raven-black hair. Now we lived in a sweet little two-story looking down on Lake Oswego. (I never knew there was actually a lake here! Just thought it was a cute name for a town.)