Fanghunters (8 page)

He briskly shook his head. “No. No. No…” he
repeated in guttural bursts.

The guy nodded in return, his eyes
whirling, a huge grin on his face. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” he replied in hot bursts. “You
die!”

The blade pierced skin.

Dom closed his eyes.
This is it! I can’t
beat him. He’s too strong. This is it, buddy! Say adios. This is—

A sudden loud crash forced Dom’s eyes back
open.

A sound like someone kicking in a garage
door. Light from outside flooded into the hallway. It lit up the guy’s face;
his eyes were bulging in shock, his head now turned toward the front door. High
heels clacked on the bare floorboards in a rapid beat. From the edge of his
field of vision, Dom saw a high-heeled boot came flying through the air like a
sledgehammer. It connected perfectly with the guy’s jaw. There was a huge snap
like someone stepping on a broken shard of glass. The guy’s head was thrown to
the side before the rest of him flew away alongside it. He hit the stairs, his
ass jarring them with a loud thud.

Dom didn’t stop to ask questions. Instead,
he scrambled away from the guy, relieved to be free of him, rubbing the spot
where the knife had pierced his tee and skin. The whole time, he stared at the
guy in amazement, the rapid episode akin to a bucket of cold water thrown in
his face. The guy was sprawled across the steps like a drunk. His head flopped
forward, making his jaw drop and hang there like a hammock. A tooth mixed in a
stream of blood spilt out his mouth, down his chin, and onto his chest. Dom
watched his glazed eyes roll up into his head like marbles.

Dom looked down at his hands.
I’m alive.
I don’t believe it. I’m frickin’ alive, buddy!

An ominous click made his head flinch up.
His jaw dropped. He found himself staring at the person who’d just saved his
life. A slim, leggy chick in black boots. She was young, attractive, with short
cropped hair. Perched on her petit nose were round blue specs, the kind of thing
a pop star might be seen sporting. She was clad from head to toe in black; turtle
neck, leather trousers. Her body was svelte; tight. Looked like she worked out.
Often. And from the way she dealt with the big guy, Dom didn’t wanna mess with
her. Dom looked her up and down in a drunken daze, hardly believing she was
real.

“You okay?” she asked Dom, her stare fixed
on the guy she’d just kicked.

Dom was too dumbstruck to answer. His eyes
then fell on the gun in her hand. He gasped.

    Over on the stairs, the guy’s dizzy
eyes came back into focus. He laid them on the gun, then the chick holding it.
Without another thought, he growled and lunged for her.

    The chick was unfazed. “Nighty night,
big boy,” she said in an ultra-cool tone before she aimed her gun and pulled
the trigger.

    Dom winced, expecting to hear a loud
report and blood to spurt. Instead, the gun made a soft ‘phut’ sound. The big
guy’s aggressive lunge immediately melted into a harmless token gesture. He
flopped down on the floorboards by her high heels and stayed there.

Dom watched on, bewildered. Something was
going on here, something he didn’t totally understand. A minute ago he was a
dead man, now the guy about to kill him was lying on the floor in a heap.

The chick poked the guy’s body with the tip
of her boot like a big game hunter having just downed a lion. When satisfied
his threat had been neutralized, she turned her attention to Dom.

Dom’s eyes snapped up to meet her.

She stared down at him from behind her blue
glasses, a half smile on her face. “Hi,” she said.

Dom stared at her in awe. He was rendered
speechless. He didn’t know whether to thank her or be scared shitless of her.
He then lowered his eyes to the gun in her hand; it hung languidly by her side.
He rolled his eyes over at the big guy.

“Looks like I got here just in time,” the
chick then said. “Don’t worry about him,” she said, cocking her head to the
side and reloading her gun. “He’s not dead, just taking a snooze.”

Dom flicked his eyes over at the guy on the
ground; he now noticed his chest was rising and lowering in a steady rhythm.

“Here,” the chick then said, making Dom
look back up at her. She handed him the gun. “Try this on your friend
upstairs,” she advised.

Dom flinched at first, and then tentatively
reached for the gun. “What is it?” he asked.

“Holy water,” she replied. “One shot should
do the trick.”

Dom frowned. “
Holy water?
” he echoed
to himself, staring at the gun now in his hand like it was an alien artifact.
He looked up at her. “For real?”

“Absolutely. The darts in that dart gun
will deal with your fanged problem. Good luck.” She then turned to leave. “Oh,
almost forgot!” she said suddenly, turning back to face Dom. “You should wear
these...” She pulled the blue glasses off her nose.

Dom gasped, his mouth a big O. He found
himself staring at the greenest, emerald-sparkling eyes he’d ever seen. They
were lashed to perfection and glittered like stars even in the low-light. He
found himself transfixed, frozen like he’d just been iced by a vamp.

She held out the glasses. “Take them. He
can’t ice you if you’re wearing blue lenses.”

Dom just stared at them stupidly.

“It’s just a thing,” she said with a shrug.
“I don’t know why...”

Dom reached out and took them from her
without realizing he was doing so. “
I think I might need them for you...
”
he mumbled to himself, his gaze still fixated on her. She was like some kind of
guardian angel, a bolt from the frickin’ blue.

She gave him a half-grin; a knowing,
playful smile, before she finally turned and darted out of the house with the
speed of a ferret. Before he had a chance to move, she’d vanished like a
distant memory.

Dom threw out a hand after her. “Wait!
Who—?”

But, she was gone.

Dom didn’t wait around; he immediately
reached out and kicked the metal sheet back closed before any passersby saw him
in there with an unconscious body. He then rolled over onto his back, his mind
in a haze like he was back on venom because all he could see wherever he looked
or whenever he blinked were two eyes.

Emerald green eyes.

Craig dug a hand in his trouser pocket
for
the front door key. It wasn’t there. He tried the other pocket. He
frowned. “That’s weird...” he said in an absent voice.

Jeff sighed.
“What’s
wrong now?” he asked in an exasperated voice.

Craig scratched his head. “I can’t find my
key…”

“Oh for Chrissakes!” Jeff groaned,
facepalming. “Not again, you dumb prick! Dude...”

Craig gave him a grim nod. “Musta fallen
out of my pocket back at the house.”

Jeff huffed. “Congrats, man. We’re gonna
miss it now.” He turned and rubbed his head as if he had a headache. “What the
hell are we gonna do now?” he then said, slamming fists on his thighs and
jumping up and down.

Craig turned and fronted him. “Hey! If
you
hadn’t smashed the TV back at the house, we wouldn’t have to come back to mine
every day, would we?” He got in Jeff’s face, his voice rising in volume.

A disgruntled expression emerged on Jeff.
He couldn’t deny that fact. “All right, all right,” he replied in a calmer
manner, stepping back and showing Craig his palms. “We’ll just have to catch
the later showing,” he suggested with a sigh.

“That’s right!” Craig agreed with a firm
nod. “That’s exactly what we’ll have to do.” Craig was just as pissed as Jeff
about missing
The Bold & the Fabulous
. Today was the day Gemma was
gonna own up to Joey about having an affair with his sister. It was gonna be a
classic. The real son-of-a-bitch was that they didn’t have time to go back, find
the key, and then come back again; it was a ten-minute walk, easy. “Trust us to
be just as addicted to
The Bold & The Fabulous
as we are to venom...”

Jeff shrugged. “Well, whatcha gonna do?”

Craig clapped his hands in frustration. “Come
on. Let’s go back to the house.”

*****

Dom
got himself together as quickly as
possible once he
checked
the time.

The other two assholes would be back very
soon and he still had his vampire friend upstairs to take care of. He dusted
himself down and caught his breath, his head still messed up by that chick (who
was she?).
Another hunter? Like me?
Only she knew more stuff; more
experienced. Competition?
Then why didn’t she claim the hit for herself? Instead,
she helped me? Why?
He shook his head. There wasn’t time to answer so many
questions. He knew he had to forget her and get moving. What wasn’t moving, was
the big bastard who just almost killed him. He lay at the foot of the stairs in
an unconscious heap. His chest rose and fell steadily, telling him that the
chick hadn’t been lying when she said he wasn’t dead. He then looked down at
the things now in his hands. In his left was a pair of specs, in the other, a
gun. A dart gun. Dom looked it over like it was a new toy. He aimed briefly
with it, then shrugged. Holy water she said. But what about the stake and
mallet? Well, he saw what her darts had done to the guard, so maybe she could
be trusted. Plus, a straight shot was a lot less messy than the old stake
through the heart. He huffed.
Yeah, give it a shot, buddy, if it don’t work,
go all Buffy on him.

He then turned to the specs. Blue specs;
protects the icing she said. Nice. She certainly knew her stuff whoever she
was...

He put them on, feeling like an idiot,
hoping it wasn’t some kind of joke on her part. Now behind the blue lenses, the
world turned even darker. Luckily, his lucky Zippo didn’t fall far from where
he stood; it lay on the floor waiting for him. He plucked it from the
floorboards, gave it a kiss, sparked her up, then set off for the stairs. He
never took his eyes off the fanghead as he stepped over him and hit the stairs
once more. He worked his way up them again, now worried the vamp had heard the
commotion. The other two coming back was also on his mind, and so was that
chick (who as she?). He huffed, he didn’t need all that stuff right now. He had
to get his business done.

What if there are more fangheads up
there?
He shook his head. They would’ve come out
already, surely? Besides, this vamp can’t have more than three guards.

Can he?

I just gotta find out now. Whoever’s up
there, I’ll just have to face them.

He made it past all the weird paintings to
the summit of the stairs. He quickly jumped out onto the landing, dart gun
raised, hoping to catch any others by surprise. It was empty. He caught his
breath, had another quick check at the foot of the stairs to make sure Mr.
Fanghead was still asleep. He was.

Dom surveyed the scene around him. The
landing was how it was before; three doors. One over to the left was still
slightly ajar. Dull light still glowed from inside. Dom steeled himself. His
venom sense was telling him that was where the vamp was sleeping. He licked his
dry lips, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and then
headed toward it. His foot fell on that rug again; he made his way across it,
his stare fixed on that slightly open door. He could hear his breathing again,
amplified in the silence.

Easy, buddy, easy...

He crossed the rug, hit floorboards. This
time, he stopped and stuck his head into the bathroom. That fanghead jumped him
from in there. The flame on his Zippo gleamed off of dirty tiles. An old toilet
and rusty bath stared back at him. And nothing else. Good. He gave himself a
positive nod, before he turned back. That open door beckoned. He stopped ahead
of it. That tingling grew very intense; it was almost a hum.
He
was
close by. Dom tried to get a peek through the gap in the doorway. All he saw
were bare floorboards. The source of the light in the room was pretty strong,
so Dom flicked off his Zippo, and put it back in his pocket. He steadied
himself, reached out for the door and then pushed it away. It went with a small
creak. Light spilled out onto the corridor, climbing up his body as the doorway
widened. The inside of the room was now exposed; he stood in the doorway like
the Angel of Death, armed with his dart gun. He surveyed the chamber. A
battered wardrobe stood to attention on the left hand wall, an equally battered
couch sat beside it. An old lamp with bare bulb lay on the floorboards,
emitting the light. In the middle of the room, a single mattress lay on the
floor. Beneath the covers was the distinct shape of a human form. It lay
motionless. Sound asleep.

Dom’s heart skipped a beat.

Hello, buddy, pleased to meet you...

He ran a hand down across his stubble and
then nodded. His prize lay before him. The thing he’s fought so hard to get to.
Now all he had to do was kill his prey. He stepped into the room, his breathing
loud in his ears, everything now claustrophobic; a sudden sensation of being
trapped in a spacesuit. He tiptoed cautiously across the floorboards, praying
there weren’t any loose ones; every step an ordeal. His senses suddenly became
acute as he honed in on that mattress: the whole reason he was stalking the
corridors and rooms of this abandoned house in the rundown parts of town. His
ears pricked, his eyes bulged in their sockets. His sneakers crossed more
floorboards as he neared, anticipation rising inside him like the mercury
climbing inside a thermometer. He made it to the center of the room, too far in
to turn and run. This was it. His legs shook, sweat poured. He took a couple
more timid steps, and he was now within a foot of the mattress. He stopped,
took up a menacing stance, standing over it like the Grim Reaper. He stared
down with sullen eyes, anger blooming in his belly. Standing there, glaring
down at the thing lying there sleeping, he realized how badly he wanted to kill
it. Wanted to put it to sleep forever for the things it had done, the crimes it
had committed against his race, his species.

Payback, buddy. Payback.

He nodded his head and then squatted down
level with the mattress. The lumpy body beneath the cover remained motionless,
ready for slaughter. With a trembling hand, Dom reached out for the dirty
bedcover. He grabbed hold of it, his heart stopping. He steadied himself; he
tightened his grip on the dart gun, sweat trickling down his forehead. He
became still.

Then yanked the sheet away.

He thrust his arm forward, about to pepper
the sleeping vamp with holy water darts. His eyes widened in shock and
surprise. There was nothing but old pillows lying on the bed.

Dom’s jaw dropped.

A loud crash made him whirl.

A body burst from the wardrobe, arms
outstretched. Before Dom could react, the vamp was on him, grunting in anger.
He grabbed hold of Dom’s shoulders, who in turn, grabbed the lapels of the
vamp’s robe. In the hubbub, Dom dropped his dart gun; it hit the floorboards
with a dull thud.

The vamp seized handfuls of Dom’s tee. “Who
are you? Who are you?” he snarled. His eyes whirled and glittered with rage,
and Dom knew in that instant the vamp was trying to ice him, to freeze him in
place. Dom gasped in shock, expecting to fall prey to him. But, it wasn’t
working; Dom was still in full control of his faculties.

It’s the glasses! It’s the glasses!
his mind stammered in disbelief.
They’re working!

They then slipped down the bridge of his
nose. Dom tilted his head back, desperate to make sure he was staring at his
attacker through the lenses. He prayed they didn’t slip off altogether, break,
or the enraged vamp tore them from his face. He badly wanted to push them up
his nose, but both his hands were preoccupied grabbing the lapels of the robe
draped over the vamp. He hung in there, his neck and chin jutting back to keep
his eyes in line with the blue lenses.

“Why won’t you stick?” the vamp then raged,
frustrated in his futile attempts to lock his prey in place. “Huh?”

Dom gritted his teeth. “I’m here to kill
you!” he sneered through his clenched teeth.

The vampire’s eyes momentarily widened in
fear. “Who sent you?” he snapped. “How did you find me?”

Instead of answering, Dom took the
initiative before his glasses slipped off completely. He threw all his weight
back against the vamp; he staggered backward, thumping into the wardrobe. Old
wood splintered. The vamp groaned, teetered, and then fought back. He thrust
against the tide with all his might. Dom was forced across the floorboards like
a child fighting against a wild bull. He yelped in both fear and surprise. His
heels hit the edge of the mattress and he reeled. His feet went airborne. His
heart shot up to his throat as he fell helplessly through the air. A second
later, a hot pain shot through him as his back hit the floorboards. The wind
flew from his chest and he was suddenly struggling to breathe. He thrashed
around on the floor like a dying fish, his chest heaving as if struggling under
a severe asthma attack. Before he had a chance to even zone back in, the vamp
was on top of him, a snarl of hate tattooed on his face. He pinned Dom down to
the floorboards. Something metal dangling around his neck hung down, brushing
Dom across the nose as it swung this way and that. Dom tried to fight back, but
the vamp’s strength was immense; it felt like being pinned by a rhino. He was
locked in place, unable to move.

Christ, this guy’s strong...

His mind urged him to fight, but it was
useless. It was like trying to fight against a juiced-up WWE wrestler. Dom
watched a sick grin begin to spread across the vamp’s face. He knew he had his
prey where he wanted it. Now, all he had to do was...

He planted a cold claw on Dom’s jaw and
snapped his head to the side. Dom’s cheek jammed into the floorboards. He tried
to speak, but only muffled groans escaped him. Now, his throat was exposed, his
jugular pulsing, hot and ready to be opened. The vamp widened his mouth and moved
in. Dom mustered all the strength he had left, struggled against the
inevitable, but it was pointless. He was an insect caught in a Venus Flytrap.

And he was about to become food.

The vamp’s jaws closed in on Dom’s throat.
Once they sunk in, he’d get that jab of venom and then he’d be back to where he
was; a slave to a vamp. Fear juddered through his veins. “No, no, no!” he
managed, but the vamp’s fangs drew closer to his throat regardless.

Dom tried to pull his head away. Now, out
of the corner of his eye, he spotted something lying on the floorboards nearby.
The dart gun.

He gasped.

He felt cold, rubbery lips touch his
throat.

He threw out a desperate arm, his hand
landing on the equally cold dart gun. Without thinking, he closed his fingers
around the handle, and brought it around across the air. The horror of
sharpened ivory touched his throat; he screamed out in pain and agony, his mind
a hot whirl of uncertainty and fear. He jammed the muzzle of the dart gun into
the ribs of his attacker. He pulsed the trigger. There was a small
phut!
The vamp jerked back, the dread of his fangs giving Dom’s throat respite. He
snapped his head around to meet Dom’s anxious stare. Now, Dom saw a different
look in his eye; a worry, a fear, a statement that said ‘
what did you do to
me?
’