Devil’s Due

The smell of rotting flesh assaulted my olfactory senses, triggering my gag reflex.

“Quiet.” Rory hissed from beside me. “Gonna wake the whole den before I set the charges,” he whispered, as he pulled the door closed behind us.

We winced as the sound of the rusty door squealed in protest.

“You sure this’ll work?” I asked for the hundredth time.

Rory held his pointer finger to his lips, demanding my silence. The manic look reflected in his eyes demanded my obedience.

He jutted two fingers at me, then towards the rear of the warehouse.

I pointed at myself, then at my feet, shaking my head.

If we weren’t forced into silence, I could properly communicate the finer points of why there is no way in hell I’m volunteering to snake my way through a warehouse of napping Lust vampires. The job of planting plant highly suspect homemade vamp bombs belong to the craftsman. Pretty sure that’s part of an unwritten code of monster hunting.

Rory’s face scrunched in on itself as though he had sucked all the powder off the world’s most sour apple candy. He jabbed his fingers at me, then at the rear of the warehouse. Poofs of snow scattered from his black bomber jacket.

I crossed my arms, shaking my head.

The dark couldn’t hide Rory’s face, turning a deep shade of cherry apple red. The tips of his ears looked as though a dragon had engulfed them in flames. His military crop top head was seconds from exploding into a five alarm fire.

Instead, he placed a heap of his 'Rory Specials’ home-made explosives at his feet. A proprietary blend made of two parts: Holy Water, garlic concentrate, and two parts hopium and insanity. He pointed at the grenades, then at me, then all around the exterior walls of the warehouse.

I smiled and shot him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Any fool knew that planting the charges along the exterior of the open warehouse was the simple job. As easy as a job taking out a den of Lust vampires can get, anyway. Anything was better than putting yourself directly into the middle of the sleeping vamps.

The size of the warehouse and den were unusual. Vamps are funny creatures. Not ha,ha pull my finger funny. More like they murder each other if their dens grow too large. Their den's top out at half a dozen. Any more than that and the alpha male competition becomes a problem. Of all the variety of vampires, Lust vampires are least powerful in terms of raw strength. Even so anyone of them has the strength of two healthy men.

There’s something special about a familial bond. Like the fact that Rory, being my big brother, can easily express his thoughts about my decision making. Being draped in the dark and silence didn’t stop his middle finger and smoldering eyes from communicating exactly what he wanted to say.

He shook his head, narrowing his hard brown eyes. He flexed his jaw, storming off in a silent huff.

It wasn’t fair having Rory at 6’2 of tall chiseled muscle sneak through the napping vampires. But I’m tired of being the smaller brother. Risking life and limb on the monster ops as Rory busts in clobbering monsters like The Hulk in a roid rage.

I scooped up the explosives, wiggling my nose. I padded silently across the open warehouse floor. The sound of every footfall echoed around the sparse open space.

Lust vampires were a unique bunch amongst the hidden world of vampires. Though strong by human terms, they were weak compared to your average bloodthirsty vampire roaming the Seattle streets. Probably had something to do with them not drinking blood and feeding off of people’s sexual energy instead.

It wasn’t the most elegant vamp den I had been in, but it wasn't the worst either. Generally, Lust vampires amass enough humans to set out on their own. They develop their own harem of human sexual desires to feed on. But they like to start in small groups until they build enough vamp strength to go it alone.

I winced as the Holy water splashed on my sleeve. “Damn it.” I whispered, sniffing at my now drenched arm. The powerful smell of the garlic made my eyes water. Home made grenades were always the most trustworthy. I shoved an extra into my jacket pocket.

I hoped Rory was right about Father Bradley’s holy water. In theory, most any religious symbol could layway a vamp. Magic circles, holy ground and, of course, holy water. But in four years of running our monster hunter business, we had yet to test the theory. Trapped in a warehouse full of vampires didn’t make for the ideal testing environment.

Rory and I huddled back together at the front entrance.

Rory wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

I pointed to the sleeve of my drenched arm and shrugged.

Rory smiled like a manic kid on Christmas as he pulled a detonator out of his black bomber jacket.

The whites of his eyes grew large in the dark. He thumbed open cover giddy with anticipation as it popped open. He began a silent countdown.

Three….

Two…..

One..

“Stop.” I said, grabbing his thumb.

I winced as we both looked at the sleeping vampires. My voice ricocheting through the empty warehouse.

“What the hell?” Rory whispered.

I jutted a finger toward the rear of the warehouse. “Look, second-floor office,” I whispered.

Rory squinted, allowing his eyes to further adjust to the darkened environment. He shook his head in frustration as he snapped the cover closed over the big red button.

He crammed the detonator back in his bomber jacket, shaking his head.

“Probably for the best,” he sighed. “Getting the smell out of the bomber’s a real bitch.”

“Once,” he said, holding up a finger. “Just once, I’d like to blow something up.”

“Your McGuber bombs don’t work.”

“I got it sorted.” Rory insisted, his brows furrowed.

“Last time I nearly lost a limb.”

“A toe. A pinky toe at that,” he scoffed. “Pinky toes don't count.”

“Why would a pinky toe not count?” I hissed.

“Shh.” Rory whistled through his teeth.

“What now Kimosabe?” I asked.

“We sneak past the gauntlet of sleeping vamps. Get whoever they have locked in that second-floor office. Then blow these suckers to kingdom come.” Rory said.

I pulled back my sleeve, checking my watch. Both of Mighty Mouse’s white-gloved hands pointed straight up at 12.

“They shouldn’t wake for another hour at least,” I whispered.

Rory nodded, looking towards the large windows covered in blackout curtains. Lust vampires didn’t burn in the sun like others, but it weakened them. With the overcast, gloomy Seattle sky, they should stay dormant for a while longer.

Before I could reply, he was on the move. Weaving between the half dozen cots spread across the open floor.

Rory moved with a grace that betrayed his massive stature. Despite the towering form of his body, his movements looked as if he was gliding across the concrete floor as opposed to walking.

We climbed the metal staircase in silence. Each step agonizing slow as our boots scrapped across the metal steps.

Rory jangled the locked door handle. I nudged him aside, yanking my lock picks from my jeans pocket. I worked the tumbler quickly, able to bypass the simple interior lock mechanism.

I smiled as the final click fell into place and the knob turned. In a crouch, I drew my 9mm P365 and waded into the darkened room.

Rory came in on my six, stepping to one side as he pushed the door closed with his foot.

I shoved my gun back into my Enigma holster as I forced myself not to run out of the room screaming.

We had discovered the source of the putrid smell.

The floor of the small 20 x 20 office was littered with human bodies in various forms of decay. Some were fresh, others well past their expiration date.

Muted light spilled in from the south side wall, which was aligned with a row of large windows. They were covered in a thick film of yuck, allowing only the smallest streams of light to leak in.

The muted yellow, gray light made the macabre scene feel like a grotesque haunted circus of death. The bodies were heaved on top of one another. Arms and legs banded at angles, no human limbs were meant to.

“It’s no wonder their location is on the edge of the docks.” I muttered, holding my hand over my mouth.

“Yeah,” Rory agreed. “They must be dumping the bodies in the Puget Sound,” he said, sounding like he was about to vomit.

“Well, they missed their dumping day,” I winced. “How many?”

“Hard to tell,” Rory said. “Too dark. Maybe fifteen. Twenty,” he added as he stepped further into the small room.

“We can’t blow the place now. They deserve a proper burial. Their families need to know we’ve found them,” I said.

“The bombs don’t work that way, little brother. Vamp bombs, not explosives, remember?”

“Right,” I said, shaking my head.

I felt lost and confused. How could they destroy so many lives so easily? Why were they feeding on human blood? Lust vamps prefer keeping a human host for years, slowly draining them of their libido. Finding a Lust den full of dead bodies didn’t add up.

“Wish we could blow this place sky high,” Rory said.

“Your bombs don’t work like that. Remember?”

“It’s the principle. Besides, these vamp pricks need to pay.”

“Shhh!” I said, holding up a hand.

We both listened closely as our hands drifted towards our guns.

A small whimper. Barely audible.

“There,” I said, pointing to a small arm jutting out from beneath a rotting corpse.

I clamored over the mound of bodies. An icy chill ran down my spine as I grasped the arm.

The small Indian boy’s arm was covered in goose-flesh. He was cold to the touch, wet and clammy like a half dead fish. His big brown eyes welled with tears. His lip trembled as he wailed.

“We’re gonna have company,” I said, no longer bothering to whisper.

I scooped the boy up, afraid I was going to break him. His body was thin and frail, his face emaciated. His skin felt like ice, his tiny body shivering like a chihuahua in Alaska. I wondered how long they had trapped him in this hellscape of death and decay. If we escape with our lives, the kid would never be the same. The psychological damage from this horror will never fade. Looking into the dead eyes of the closest corpse, I wondered if the kid had family piled amongst the bunch.

I shoved his face deep into my shoulder to shield his eyes, wishing I could do the same for myself.

“You’r safe,” I whispered.

The lie spilled from my lips with practiced ease. Perhaps because I wanted to convince myself as much as the kid.

“You feel that?” Rory asked.

“They’re powerful,” I said.

“Too bad for them. Their Lust Jedi Mind Tricks don’t play well with us.”

“They don’t know that.” I smiled.

The sounds of the rustling vampires on the other side of the door grew in volume. A clang rang out as a shoe struck the lowest stair. We had seconds to plan and execute.

“Kid,” Rory said, scuttling over bodies to get to the large windows. “Can you swim?” He looked back at me, desperation in his voice.

The child buried his face deeper into my chest and let out a low whimper.

“No bathing suites tonight. Besides, a casual swim in the Sound in December is more likely to do us in than a room full of Lust vampires,” I said.

Rory shook his head. “That leaves one option,” he said.

He tore open his bomber jacket, a manic look of glee spilling over his face from streaks of muted natural light.

Dangling from either side of the inside jacket hung a menagerie of vampiric instruments of death. Tools handcrafted to dispatch vampires with quick efficiency.

There are six popular ways to kill a vampire. Rory was proficient in seven.

As the sounds of the footfalls struck the top step, Rory kicked open the door.

The door was old and Rory strong. It tore from its hinges, flew off the frame, smashing into two drowsy vamps.

The vampires fell in a heap, looks of shock plastered across their faces.

Rory pounced.

He leapt from the top step, yanking a pair of stakes from inside his bomber jacket.

They struck with a thud. Rory yanked the stakes from their hearts, sending blood spewing across the warehouse floor.

The vampires burst into unholy flames. The dust of their ashes flicked through the stale air.

I hurried down the stairs, hot on Rory’s six as he moved.

Two down, four to go.

A vampire darted forward.

Rory dipped to the side, yanking a trank gun from inside his bomber.

Two quick shots.

A vampire two feet away burst into flames, his ashes rising to the rafters.

Three down, three to go.

His shot missed the closest vampire.

Rory winced as it snatched his wrist, sending the trank gun smashing onto the floor.

In a flash, the vampire’s head tumbled from his shoulders. It landed with a grotesque thud, rolled twice, then burst into flames.

Four down, two to go.

Rory flicked the blood from his wakizashi.

The mini Katana gleamed with crimson as Rory slashed toward the remaining two.

They backed up cautiously, confused by their lack of persuasion. Lust vampires were strong, but were heavily reliant on their preternatural gifts of persuasion. Most humans would swoon at their feet as they fed on their sexual desires. Fortunately for us, our father was a hunter. From an early age, dad taught us how to deal with all manner of the supernatural.

One vampire looked past Rory, its cold eyes landing on me and the boy. A sinister smile crept across his face.

The vampire looked like any other young Seattleite hipster. His receding hairline put him in his mid-twenties but it’s hard to tell with a vampire.

“Let us be hunters. Lest I kill the cub,” he said.

The kid squirmed, writhing in pain.

Rory looked back at us.

The child was in shock. His breath shallow. Big, wet tears streamed down his face. His body convulsed, his tiny muscles contracted as he curled into a tight ball in my arms. The vamp was feeding off of him. I clenched my jaw, giving Rory a steely eyed look of anger.

Rory nodded, turning back to the vamps.

Rory knelt slowly, setting his mini Katana on the ground. “Okay,” he said, standing up. “You got us.”

The vampire chuckled. “Humans and their cubs,” he said, shaking his head. “Your children are our food,” he added, showing off a pair of sharp, pointy fangs.

Rory yanked out a can of hairspray and a lighter. The vampire’s eyes grew wide as he lunged forward.

He let out a horrific scream as the flames engulfed his head. Rory kept his finger pressed firmly on the hairspray until the fiery flames consumed the vampire.

Five down, one to go.

The last vamp chuckled.

“I think he’s lost his mind,” I said.

Rory shook his empty can of hairspray, then tossed it on the ground. “Facing death will do that to a filthy vamp.” He said, shoving his lighter into his pants pocket.

The kid whimpered, his body curling into a tight ball.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’re almost done here,” I said.

“No,” he moaned.

My gut sank. “Rory, I think we’ve got a problem,” I said, peering around.

“No worries,” Keenan said. “Kids in shock. We’ll finish in no time,” he said.

“Run,” the child whispered.

The last vampire lunged.

He was fast, his fangs stopping inches from puncturing through Rory’s carotid artery.

They crashed to the ground as Rory struggled to keep him from snapping down onto his neck.

I set the kid down, ran over and soccer kicked the vampire in his face.

He tumbled off of Rory, his face covered in blood. His nose sat crooked on his otherwise handsome face.

“Today’s a good day to die. Sullivans,” he said, letting out a great bellow of laughter.

I yanked Rory to his feet. We exchanged bewildered looks of confusion.

Rory’s face said it all. How the hell did he know our name? And why the hell is he laughing when he’s seconds from death?

“Booby trap,” we said in unison.

The vampire stumbled to his feet as the door burst open.

I scooped up the kid as we backed away, knocking into empty cots as we stumbled backwards further into the interior of the warehouse.

We stopped against the back wall near the stairs as twenty Lust vampires gathered into the warehouse. The hunger in their fierce eyes pierced through the distance between us.

My body flushed with adrenalin as my fight-or-flight response kicked in.

“Any colloidal silver left from the trank darts?” I asked, trying in vain to mask the desperation in my voice.

“No,” Rory smiled. “But I’ve got this,” he said, reaching inside his bomber jacket.

“We’re seriously testing this while standing in the middle of the fallout?” I asked.

“If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears.”

I flipped open the small covering, exposing the big red button.

“On one,” Rory said.

“One,” we shouted as the Lust vampires lunged.

Too late. Too much talking. Too much messing around.

The horde of Lust vampires smashed into us.

I dropped the kid as four vampires piled into me.

Fangs and saliva flashed in front of me.

I struggled to remain standing. Hard fists flashed out, smashing into my face and ribs.

I dropped to a knee, gasping as a Birkenstock clad foot jabbed deep into my abdomen.

My vision flashed as a hammer fist exploded into my jaw.

A guttural whimper of panic escaped my lips as a massive, callused hand scooped up a head of hair, yanking my head up.

I heard laughter on the edge of my consciousness.

My head swam as I struggled to stay awake.

I barely registered the pain, like a thinly veiled fog over my senses.

A massive pair of fangs loomed over my face.

They descended towards my outstretched neck.

Hot breath lingered on my neck as I struggled for movement.

My arms and legs refused to respond. I felt as though I was swimming fifty feet under an ocean of mud while clad in a lead suit.

The mouth stopped short. Cries sprouted from all sides of the warehouse.

A thunderclap of mini explosions exploded at once.

Holy water and chunks of garlic cascaded throughout the warehouse.

Lust vampires screamed in terror, unable to escape their inevitable doom.

Ash danced through the speckles of light trickling through the warehouse as the vampires exploded into hellfire.

I stumbled to my feet, rubbing at my eyes.

“Aahh,” I moaned as wet garlic burned my eyes.

“Here,” a tiny voice called.

The kid sat cross-legged with Rory’s head in his tiny lap. The detonator lay next to him, the top flipped open.

I shook my head. “You saved us,” I said, kneeling down to check on Rory.

“My name is Shavik,” he said with a shy smile.