Blood and Bullets Read online

  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.

  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 Fey—those 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.

  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.

  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.

  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 watch—big 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.

  Tension sang across my nerves as I tried to look at everything and listen to everything. My steps were slow and careful as I walked in staying near the wall and shadows. I did not draw my gun, but I wanted to. My eyes darted here and there, searching shadows for anything dangerous. Because I wasn’t really watching where I was putting my feet, occasionally something sticky would pull against the sole of my boot. I did not look down to see what it could have been.

  Broken glass littered the alley floor, crunching and tinkling underfoot, so I did not even try to be stealthy. I just moved slowly, every sense wide open, my nerves tingling with adrenaline.

  I was about halfway down when a shadow moved in a shadow.

  The dark shape of a man crouched atop a stack of wooden pallets just a few feet from where I stopped. In the dark I couldn’t make out much about him. He looked big, bulky with his black coat spread around him. My hand was sliding slowly under my jacket when the shape spoke.

  “Are you Deacon Chalk?” The voice from the shape was deep and raspy. How the hell did everybody know my name tonight?

  “Are you Nyteblade?” My hand stayed in my jacket, fingertips just touching the grip of the pistol.

  “I am Nyteblade.” The figure leaned a little forward, shifting toward me. “Are you Deacon Chalk?”

  I had already had a weird night. Now this asshole was starting to freak me out because he was being bizarre. Freaking me out is not a good idea. It tends to make me shoot people. But he should not have known my name. Then again, maybe he should; the note in the folder did not say why he would be in this alley.

  Maybe he was sent to meet me.

  By the vampires?

  Suspicion tightened my scalp and I started looking around the alley because the whole situation suddenly took a new tilt. I was on edge coming in to this. Now I was over the precipice and free-falling.

  “That’s me, man. Look, this isn’t adding up... .”

  Wooden pallets rasped against each other and flew away as he launched himself at me. Black fabric swirled out from his body like wings as he jumped, popping and flapping in the night air. A large, pointed object filled his hand and stabbed at my chest, banshee howl flying from his lips.

  “DIESOULLESSUNDEADCREATUREOFTHE NIGHT!”

  The Desert Eagle cleared leather and swung around. I didn’t have time to shoot because we were too close and he was too fast. Instead, my hand holding the gun lashed out, knocking the object away before it could impale me. My left hand clenched into a fist. Without thought, I slammed it into his chest, knocking him back on his ass. The pistol’s laser centered on his form sprawled out among the garbage.

  On his back, large black duster bunched up underneath him, he was smaller than he looked on the pallets. Maybe 5’10”, the man on the ground was thin. Stick thin. He couldn’t weigh more than a buck fifty.

  Everything he wore was black. Black boots, black leather pants, and a black T-shirt all hid under a long black duster. Pale, freckled skin and bright red hair gleamed in the night. Big black sunglasses covered his eyes, making him look like an insect.

  Who the hell wears sunglasses at night? The thing he had tried to stab through my chest lay next to him, still spinning lazily from being knocked out of his hand. It was a three-foot-long wooden stake as big around as my wrist. A bandolier of them clung tight across his chest. The biggest freaking crucifix I had ever seen was in a contraption of straps on his thigh.

  “What the HELL is your PROBLEM?” Spit flew as I screamed at him. Laying on his back, he looked up at me with his mouth hanging open. “You tried to fucking stake me?” The stake clattered down the alley as I kicked it with my booted foot. “I’m not a vampire, dumbass.”

  He lay unmoving, every muscle tense and the deer in headlights look that people who are not familiar with guns get when one is pointed at them. In my head, I was debating on shooting his ass when the skin on the back of my neck started prickling. Some supernatural mojo was happening. Every second it built, pressing into my skin like a weight. Heat radiated from the back of my head and neck. In the corner of my vision, wisps of steam from the temperature change of my skin and the cold night air swirled around my face. I quit looking at Nyteblade and began to try to see the entire alley at once. The night breeze shifted and the smell of garbage passed away from me and was replaced with a different smell. A musty, dry smell of shed skin and tainted venom.

  Fucking vampires on the wind.

  3

  Movement from the end of the alley made the Desert Eagle jerk up. Sighting down my arm, I watched as the garbage began moving. Bags, boxes, and clumps tumbling down from the heap like lava from a volcano. Vampires rose up, shedding garbage like a second skin. I quickly counted twelve of them. This was bad, really fucking bad.

  Nyteblade jerked back when I kicked his leg. “Get up, dammit. We have to go now or we are totally screwed.” The vampires were out of the garbage now and slowly walking toward us. Nyteblade stood to his feet, his head crossing in front of the gun barrel as he moved beside me. Damn idiot. The extra clip I took out was heavy in my left hand, but I would need it if I had to start shooting.

  A hand touched me on the arm. Glancing quickly at Nyt
eblade, I noticed that he had lost the sunglasses and his eyes were wide. White showed all the way around pupils that were a bright cornflower blue. His pale, freckled hand pointed up in the air behind me.

  As he drew my attention, a low hissing began to fill the night air, buzzing and snaking its way through the alley’s acoustics. A fast look around and I saw that the tops of both buildings were lined with vampires. Numbers tumbled in my head as visually I grouped them in rough tens. I didn’t perform an exact count, but easily fifty bloodsuckers surrounded us.

  I had forty-six bullets for the Desert Eagle. Another five in the Taurus put me at fifty-one total. To kill a vampire by gun meant two bullets per, one in the heart and one in the head.

  No way could I hit every shot fired. Nobody is 100% when it comes to shooting. Especially if you add in the fact that no vampire was just going to stand still and let me cap their ass. So I would not be killing all the vampires in the alley. I just couldn’t. I might be a lot of things, but I am not a damn superhero.

  Head shots only as much as possible.

  A bullet in the brain will not kill a vampire. They will heal it eventually. But it would put them on their bloodsucking ass for a few minutes, and a few minutes might be enough for me to get us gone. Pointing Nyteblade toward the open end of the alley, we began to move. Slowly.

  Inching our way out, the air was heavy with tension. It vibrated like the strands of a spider’s web when an insect has been caught. It was like swimming in a pool of hungry sharks. One tiny drop of blood and it would be a feeding frenzy. It was only going to take one small break to rain vampire hell down around our ears. Every step we took, the vampires took one also. Mirroring our movements, they were acting like zombies. Or puppets tied together with one string.