Читать книгу Vampire, Hunter - Maria Arnt - Страница 3

Tanya drove the stolen car out of the St. Louis traffic and into an alley, turned the engine off, and closed her eyes. “You can do this,” she whispered. She repeated her usual pep-talk, dredging up the memory of Jake and the vampire with steel-gray eyes. It didn’t make her feel any less nervous, but it did make her angry, and she could work with that.

With a deep breath, she opened the car door and squeezed out between the rusting metal and the rough brick wall. The July heat was oppressive, without even the briefest breeze to relieve it. She could almost feel her red curly hair frizzing out in the humidity.

Tanya tugged down the hem of her t-shirt, a couple sizes too small to keep it from getting caught in a fight. It smelled strongly of the musty thrift shop where she bought it, but she was just going to burn it later anyway.

Glancing up at the sky, she saw the sun almost directly overhead, flooding the hidden spaces between buildings with light. Funny thing about TV, she thought, just from looking you don't realize that most alleys smell like piss and garbage. She checked the nearby dumpster and the bag of supplies in the car one last time, then rubbed her hands together to try and calm down. You can do this. You’re always nervous before a kill, but as soon as you get going it’ll be like running downhill. Couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

Summoning that first leap of confidence, she made her way down the alley and took a left, then knocked on an unmarked metal door. It didn't even have a doorknob, and the sunlight made it hot enough to hurt her knuckles. There was a long pause and she fought the urge to rub the sweat off her palms on her pants, but eventually the door opened just a crack.

"Whath’fuck d'youwan?" slurred the man on the other side. The one eye she could see was bloodshot and in constant motion.

Tanya recognized the symptoms of a vampire’s daytime grogginess. Probably not a Master, she reasoned, he didn't open the door all the way. No wonder he's sleepy—it's the middle of the freaking night to him.

"Jimmy had a thing," she said. "They sent me instead." In reality, Jimmy was handcuffed to a railing in a parking ramp five miles away. He'd have a hell of a headache when he woke up in police custody, but she wasn't in the habit of feeling sorry for drug dealers.

The door opened a hair more. "You're late. It wuz s'posed t'be'ere las night."

"Yeah, well, Jimmy's an ass, Okay? I just got the stuff," Tanya whined, shoving her hands in her pockets. Maybe if she acted irritated he would hurry up.

He chuckled at that and opened the door wide enough for her to pass through. "Alrigh, c'mon in."

"Uh-uh." She shook her head. "I dunno how Jimmy does it, but I follow the rules, man. You gotta come out to the car." From the marks on Jimmy, he'd been making a little extra on the side by giving them more than crack. There was no way in hell she was going to go inside and let them make a meal out of her, too.

"Don' be a bitch." He scowled. "A'least pass it through." He held out a hand, just inside the door.

She noticed he sounded a bit rushed. Probably wants to get the door closed as soon as possible. She hid a smile, glad to have regained the advantage.

"Nope. Rules. I show you a sample, you give me the money, I give you the rest." She’d watched Jimmy long enough to know his routine, after his brief "chat" inside.

"I don'ave time fr'this shit!" He growled and lunged at her. A hand on his shoulder stopped him short, and a much more attractive man stepped into view, just inside the door.

"It's alright, Randy. I'll take care of it." Fair skinned and sandy-blonde, the newcomer looked much younger but Randy nodded without question and drifted off into the building.

When he opened the door wide and gave her a winning smile, Tanya recognized him and knew she had the right man. This was Etienne du Lac, the killer she had been trailing for the last two weeks. There was also that tell-tale buzz of static. It rolled off him, making her skin itch.

"My car's just around the corner," she said.

He made an elaborate bow to indicate she should lead the way. Late 17th, early 18th century, she guessed from the fancy gesture. Some habits never wear off. Belatedly, she realized he was trying to flirt with her, so she flashed him a smile.

She led him around the corner and was surprised he didn't even blink as they stepped into the sunlight. He's gotta be the most powerful one I've done so far. Good. You can do this.

"Will you be making all of our deliveries from now on?" he asked, eying her breasts as she pretended to fumble in her pocket for her keys.

She responded in an unintelligible mumble. When he leaned forward to hear her better, she pulled out a miniature can of mace on her keyring, spraying it directly into his pretty face. Just because it wouldn’t do him any real harm didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch. And make it harder for him to see.

He screamed, doubling over. That gave Tanya all the opportunity she needed. She wrapped her arm over his head and twisted with everything she had.

His neck didn't break on her first try. Etienne let out a string of French curses and punched her hard in the ribs. Her whole left side burned like it was on fire, and he pulled out of her grasp when she gasped for air.

Damn. She had missed her first chance, her best chance, but she couldn't stop now. His head was at a bit of an odd angle, though. Maybe with the right applied force, she could still break his neck.

He rubbed his eyes with one hand and swung blindly at her with the other, spewing more French profanity. When he called out for Randy, she knew she had to act fast, before any of his minions were stupid enough to brave the sun and save their Master.

She gave the side of his face a hard right hook, and then followed it up with the best roundhouse kick she could manage in so much pain. There was a dull crack, and Etienne's body sprawled on the gravel.

"Son of a bitch..." Tanya put a hand to her side. There wasn't any blood, but damn did it hurt, especially when she breathed. She probably had broken a rib or two. She kicked him for good measure, but he was unconscious. Oh well, she thought, that'll make the next part way easier.

She grabbed the roll of industrial-sized plastic wrap she had stashed in the car and set to work, winding it around his legs. It hurt to move, but she didn't have a lot of time before he woke up and not much more before his broken neck would heal. She hoped the plastic would hold—she hadn't tested this method.

Once she had his legs wrapped up, she started on his torso. Working with his dead weight was awkward, and the pain in her side was getting worse. She pushed herself to keep going, she had to finish quickly before anyone saw her. At last, she had him all wrapped up except for a thin slice of his chest, right over his heart. Sliding the six-inch bowie knife out of its sheath in her boot, she sat on his chest. She slapped his face a few times, and finally he woke up.

"Qu'est-quec'est?" he murmured, and then felt the point of the knife under his chin. He thrashed his head wildly looking around for help, but he was still paralyzed below the neck. All he succeeded in doing was getting his chin cut up on the tip of her knife.

"Hey!" she grabbed his jaw. "I just want to talk, okay?"

He stopped wiggling but didn't look convinced.

"If you tell me what I want to know, I promise not to kill you," she said in her most persuasive voice. "I'll leave you here and let your minions come get you when it's dark enough."

He gave her a long, hard look through narrowed eyes. It was clear he didn't trust her, but there was curiosity there, too. "What do you want to know?"

Tanya smiled. "Tell me the name of the most powerful vampire you know.” Her eyes flashed. “And where I can find them."

Etienne smiled slowly, not the expression she expected. Most of the time they were surprised. "Why do you want to know?"

"That's my business," she said, and poked his chest with the tip of the knife for emphasis. "Now tell me, or I will kill you."

"All right, all right!" he shouted.

She slapped him. "Quiet."

He glared at her and then muttered "Salope fou. His name is Seth, and he lives in Chicago."

Hm. Chicago. It was further than she'd had to go so far, but it made sense to her that a fat cat vampire would live in a big city. "Seth what?"

"Just Seth," he insisted, "like Cher."

She rolled her eyes at the out-dated reference. "He has to use a last name, even if it's just an alias. What is it?"

"Uhhhh..." He looked like he was trying to remember, but she could feel his hand wriggling under the plastic. She pressed the first half inch of the knife into his chest and he stilled—she would have to finish quickly; he was already regaining movement.

"Walker! He uses the last name 'Walker.' Now get off me." Clearly he wasn't used to people resisting his charms.

"Sure, just a sec." She slammed the knife down between his ribs, severing his aorta and piercing the heart. He screamed as she jerked it sideways a few times, making sure the hole was big enough that he would bleed out before he could heal. The old stake myth was a bit of an exaggeration, just about anything through the heart was enough to kill a vampire. It was a messy business, though, and his blood gushed over her hands and pooled beneath them.

"Why?" he rasped, blood rattling in his lungs as she stood up. "You said..."

Tanya smiled, triumphant. "I lied."

Etienne shook his head weakly. “But… he said…” Then he lost consciousness.

Tanya frowned. He said what? Who said what? But it was clear that Etienne would forever hold his peace.

Shrugging, she wrapped up the rest of his body, head and all. By now the pain in her side had almost stopped registering, which was probably a bad sign. The vampire let out a last groan, muffled by the plastic. Sadly, the plastic suffocating him wouldn’t be enough to kill him, so she waited until the rush of blood had slowed to a trickle before she pulled out the knife and wrapped the plastic back down over the wound. A wave of nausea hit and her hands shook a little, but it wasn’t from the sight of the blood. How was she going to get his body into the nearby dumpster with a broken rib? Even whole and healthy it would have been a challenge. It's not like I have super powers. She huffed, blowing the hair out of her face.

Wrestling with the plastic-wrap mummy, she managed to prop him up against the side of the dumpster. The blood under the wrapping and on her hands was starting to make him slippery. Just a little bit more, Tanya. She grunted with the effort. One last push. She crouched down, put his legs over her shoulder, and stood up. The body lifted, teetered on the edge of the dumpster, and then crashed into it, knocking the lid shut.

She stood there a moment, wiping her hands on her shirt and trying to breathe. The pain had returned with a vengeance so she would need to make a stop at the hospital.

First things first, though. She surveyed the blood on the gravel. It wasn't much, considering—the plastic wrap had turned out to be a good idea—but still, it would need to be cleaned up. She kicked her shoes off and threw them in a different dumpster, swapping them out for a pair of cheap flip-flops she had stashed in the trunk. When she returned to the metal door, she was pleased to find it had been left ajar. When a Master vampire died, all of his dependent minions died too. With no one at home to answer, it would have been difficult to get back in.

She locked herself inside the silent building. Quiet as a tomb, she thought, and suppressed a fit of hysterical giggles. All the adrenaline from the fight was making her goofy. The guy who had answered the door lay on a ratty old couch, looking like he was taking a nap, except his chest no longer moved. Contrary to popular belief, vampires did breathe, and this one definitely wasn't.

The warehouse had been converted into living quarters for the vampires, but only barely. Brick walls and cement floors still showed, and the rooms were divided with hastily-erected drywall. A quick survey of the place revealed terrible interior decorating, a la 1980s flea market, and a few more deceased vamps. A more thorough inspection would have to wait until she was clean.

Tanya found the bathroom. The shower was—thankfully—clean. She stepped in and turned on the hot water, letting it rinse the blood down the drain. Stripping, she let her clothes fall to the bottom of the tub where the water pounded on them.

As the adrenaline began to drain from her system, Etienne’s last words started to bother her. But… he said… Who had the vampire been talking about? And honestly, if she thought about it, it had been almost too easy to kill Etienne, despite the good hit he’d gotten in on her ribs. It was like he wasn’t trying to fight back, like he didn’t think she was really a threat.

But then, that wasn’t terribly unusual. A human wouldn’t expect a cheeseburger to suddenly attack them, so why should a lowly human like her be worth worrying about? She tried to shrug it off. Maybe “he” was something totally unrelated. Maybe Etienne had gone to a fortune teller who said he’d have a really great week. Who knew.

When everything was clean, she stepped out, looking for a towel. A whole stack of big, fluffy, hotel-style ones was ready nearby, and she smiled. Score. Tanya had learned along the way to leave nothing at a nest that could tie her to their deaths, but it was amazing what a person could cart off and no one ever missed it. The owners were all dead, and who else would know? Selecting one, she dried herself off quickly. A glance in the half-fogged mirror showed a colorful bruise forming below and to the side of her left breast. She scowled and poked it a little, hissing at the spike of pain.

In the adjoining bedroom, she found one dead female vampire and a well-stocked closet. At this point, she was more interested in the latter, and she picked out a few pieces that fit her decently; a button-down shirt and a baggy pair of pants that gave her plenty of room to move.

The full inspection of the nest revealed twenty-six dead vampires—none of them the one she was looking for—and all the supplies necessary to make it like she was never there. It would have been far easier to burn the place, but arson drew a lot more attention than she wanted. Better to let the cops discover the bodies, long after she was gone. Tanya kept spare supplies in the car to make sure, but it was usually better to use what was on-site. Bleach for the gravel in the alley, foaming drain cleaner for the shower, and a sealable plastic bag for her discarded clothes. Later she would burn them, but she would find somewhere across town to do that. She cleaned up after herself, put the bottles back in their places, and grabbed another couple towels.

Lastly, she went to what she assumed was Etienne’s room, since it was the nicest, and looked for her keepsake. It had to be something special, something that made her think of him. Vampires liked to keep little trinkets from their own time periods, and she usually tried to find one of them. At last, she found it. Hung on the bedpost by its chain, it was a silver filigree pendant, spherical and about the size of a ping-pong ball. She had no idea why a guy would have such a flashy necklace, but it was pretty and smelled faintly of some kind of perfume. On closer inspection, she realized it opened like a locket. Shrugging, she stuffed it deep into the pocket of her purloined slacks and headed back out to the car.

Digging her phone out of her bag, she texted the address to a number she had memorized, and then deleted it. Tanya knew the message could still be retrieved, but it was a disposable phone anyway. As she started the car and pulled out of the alley, she breathed a sigh of relief--as deep as her aching side would allow. She had succeeded again, and if she hadn’t found her attacker yet, at least she had another name to pursue. Life is good.

From atop the building, a man watched the car pull away and slowly grinned.

"Magnificent," he murmured, and turned to leave. He had been preparing for this for a very long time, and soon, very soon, the wait would finally be over....