Dom edged nearer to the summit of the stairs. Since the loud, creaky step, the rest had been quiet like church mice. He prayed that the last few would keep it shut too. The closer he made it to the top, the more of a rush he was getting. It was a dark excitement that swirled around his stomach like toxic gas. At the same time, the unknown quantity of the situation ate away at him like termites. He tried to swallow, but his mouth and throat were as dry as a desert well. Instead, he continuously puffed his cheeks, releasing hot air into the surrounding atmosphere.
He made it to the corner step before the stairwell curved around. He stopped, breathed in and held it. With a shaking hand, he pushed his lighter forwards and around the corner, daring to poke his head round with it. The clipper illuminated the landing. He couldn’t see much bar an old rug that had been laid down over the floorboards. The good thing about that was it would quieten his footsteps. He smiled to himself. Maybe someone up there was looking out for him.
He tried to crane his neck more; he ended up putting too much weight on one side and lost his balance. He threw an instinctive hand out for the wall. He turned his head to be faced by yet another bizarre painting; a giant pumpkin head that looked like it had its eyes gouged out. Two black holes stared at him from where they should have been. A shiver raced up his spine and he turned away, not wanting to stare at it more than he had to.
Man, these things are freaky.
Just carry on and forget the weird paintings.
He steadied himself and nodded. The good thing, he now realized, was that the creak the step made a little earlier hadn’t caused any serious damage to his mission. He’d surely be dead by now if it had. It meant the vamp still slept like a lamb. That particular thought made him feel slightly nauseous.
He ignored it and took another step.
He eased his body round the corner, now almost on the final step. From here, the flame on his Zippo showed him that there was one room across the landing from where he stood. The closed door faced him. The vamp could be behind it. He tightened his grip on the stake noticing how it felt like it had been rubbed with Vaseline. He took the last step, finally, his foot touching the landing. Soon, the other joined it, both of them touching the rug. Relief surged up into his chest. Man, that was hell! He took a look over his shoulder to see the bottom of the stairs, which was now like staring down at the base of Mount Everest from its peak. He turned back.
Now it was about to get serious.
He surveyed the landing. Over to his right was another closed door leading to yet another room. On the left was what he guessed was the bathroom and another bedroom door. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. Yeah, the door was slightly ajar, but he couldn’t see behind it. A faint glow came through the gap, lighting up the gaps in the doorframe. Dom frowned. Was that a light burning in there? He arched his body forward and moved his clipper toward it to get a better look. His fast movement caused the flame to bend back and burn the webbing between his thumb and index finger. Hot pain shot across his hand; he gasped, instinctively shaking the lighter till the flame went out. The whole area was dumped into pitch black. He quickly tried to light it up again, but the flint wheel was as hot as a branding iron; it burnt the tip of his thumb, forcing him to stick it in his mouth afterward to cool it off. He then started blowing frantically on the wheel to try and cool it down. All the while, the darkness grew terrifying. It swallowed him, sending his nerve endings into overdrive. He wanted light. Any light. Just enough so he wasn’t trapped in this sea of darkness. He panicked, his breathing rattled while he tried to spark up the Zippo again. It sparked endlessly, refusing to light.
Come on! Come on!
He shook it in his hand to stir up the lighter fluid and tried again, ignoring the fact that although he had partly cooled it, the wheel was still as hot as hell. It sparked again and again, teasing him.
Work! Work, goddamn you!
By then the things that were hiding in the darkness had come out to play. He heard imps and demons with big noses and gouged out eyes cackling, could smell their rotten breath on the air around him. You’re all ours now, they told him. We’re going to rip you open and eat you alive! He heard the Twilight Zone theme tune playing in his tender mind. He looked down at his feet because he swore he just felt something brush past his leg...
Work, work! he pleaded, on the verge of tears.
He shook the lighter like crazy, feeling the fluid inside it swish up and down. He tried it again. It sparked and sparked again. The voices in the darkness around him grew louder. Buckets of sweat streamed off his face. He wiped his grimy cheeks and forcefully flicked the flint again.
This time, to his relief, the flame lit and danced on the air. The demons were instantly shut back in their boxes and everything became as silent as a tomb. His chest collapsed in a sigh. A small laugh jumped out alongside it.
Christ, that was painful…
He briefly closed his eyes. Calm took over and he opened them again. Now that that crap was over, he turned his attention back to the slightly open door to his left. There was definitely a glow emanating from the room beyond it. Dom nodded; he knew that was where his vamp was sleeping. He took a step toward it, his feet falling on the thick rug, cushioning his steps. Compared to the hot-coal-like floorboards, it felt like damp grass. As he approached the door, he became more and more certain that it was the vamp’s sleeping quarters. That tingling in his spine increased the further he delved into that corridor. The closer he got to that door, it upped in volume, telling him he was getting closer. Closer.
He tiptoed across the rug, his breath baited, feeling like an insect caught in a test tube, feeling like there were a million eyes on him. He was so far into this, there was no escape. That corridor seemed to go on forever, every step he took seemed to make the door move further away. He constantly had to wipe the sweat from his face, his whole body overheating in the pressure. He was barely breathing, his heart hammering harder than it ever had.
Stay calm, buddy. Stay calm...
He fixed his stare on that door as it drew closer. His feet stepped off the rug and onto hard floorboards once more. He was nearly there. Nearly. There.
He moved further into that deathly silent corridor, his senses on high alert, that door drawing closer. Closer.
The glow from inside beckoned. It called. And like a moth to light, he was drawn.
In the next instant, he was standing ahead of the door. He turned to face it, tightening his grip on the stake again. He steadied himself that tingling now a burn.
Okay, buddy, this is it. This is it...
He reached out to push the door fully open. He stopped.
His ear pricked.
His head snapped to the side. What was—
His heart stopped, his chest seizing. He spun to the left, his Zippo held high. It lit up a face. And this time it wasn’t a painting because it was rushing towards him from the bathroom.
What the—
Something swung across the air. Dom’s reflexes took control. He ducked his head in a flash, managing just in time to dodge it. He heard it thwack into the doorframe behind him. The light on his Zippo went out, plunging the area into darkness again. He staggered back, his legs suddenly feeling like they were about to collapse. From somewhere deep down inside him, a burst of adrenaline jolted him, stabilizing them. He used it to spin and propel himself forward, away from his attacker. Big, rough hands caught him around the waist, foiling his getaway. Before he could react, he was shoved forward, control of his own limbs now completely gone. He yelped as he flew back through the dark corridor, across the rug he’d just traversed. He tried to shake off the hands stuck to his waist, but they were as strong as metal clamps.
Wind rushed past him, his arms flailed. There was a sudden shove to the right, dangerously close to the stairway. “Woah!” Dom shouted, his eyes wide in alarm as he found himself staring down that set of stairs. His back straightened. His arms thrashed on the air as he teetered on the edge of the stairs, fear juddering through him. He threw out an arm, latching his hand onto the banister. His forearm flexed; it held him there like a Rottweiler’s lockjaw. He wanted to swing his stake, which he somehow still managed to hold onto throughout, and hopefully connect with his attacker. Bu, before he had a chance, there was a loud grunt, and then a massive jolt of pain to his lower back, winding him in an instant. Dom gasped under the pain. His body flaked under the strain. The blow loosened his grip on the banister. The momentum from behind pulled him forward, and then gravity took over. His eyes bulged as the stairwell came rapidly into view. He fell head first down them, helpless. He thudded onto the wood, pain rocketing across his chest and shoulders. He bounced and rolled like a ball, the world spinning. Jarring pain jolted him with every step he hit. He smacked his head on the wall on the way down, just before he finally hit the floor at the foot of the stairs. He smashed into the floorboards back first with a forced grunt, the wind stolen from his chest. He lay where he was for a second, his mind hazy, his body a heap of pain.
He zoned in and out, barely able to make out the huge figure now coming down the stairs toward him.
Get up! his mind screamed. Get up, Dom! Or you die!
His head rolled in woozy circles, his focus blurred. He asked his limbs to work, but they wouldn’t respond. All the while, the guy was making it down more steps toward him.
Come on, get up, Dom! GET THE HELL UP!
Through his blurry vision, he was a body looming large over him in the gloom. He saw a face; a snarl tattooed on it. A thick hand then clamped around his throat, and he felt his tongue pop right out. Now, breathing was totally impossible. The hand squeezed and the pressure built in Dom’s head; he could feel it turning red.
Fight! Fight, Dom!
He tried to struggle. But, the guy was thick-set like a bull; he was pinning Dom to the floor like a pro wrestler waiting for the three count.
He must weigh twenty stone!
Dom struggled hard against him, but it was nothing more than a whimper. He tried to breathe harder to push his chest out, but it wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. And then it got worse.
The guy revealed what he had in his other hand.
Dom watched in dumb horror as the guy raised a blade into the air. Dom saw just how razor sharp it was; it glinted in the small shaft of light coming through the steel front door. He groaned, but what came out was a choke.
“Neh-neh. Neh,” he managed to blurt, shaking his head.
“You ain’t gonna hurt MY father!” the guy sneered through clenched teeth. His eyes glimmered with hate. Dom had invaded his turf, looked to snuff out his drug dealer. And now it was time to pay. He held Dom in place by the throat.
And then brought the knife down.
Dom’s eyes bulged.
The final remnants of his survival instincts kicked in. He managed to throw an arm up and grab hold of the guy’s wrist. The knife stopped inches from his heart. With the last of his strength, he pushed back against it. The guy realized what happened and began to apply more pressure, his teeth bared like a rabid dog. A stalemate broke out; the guy’s brute strength against Dom’s base desperation for survival. The knife shook on the air under the pressure exerted by both of them in their struggle.
Fight! FIGHT, DOM!
Dom watched the guy, watched his cheeks tremble. He watched his tongue dart out of his mouth and heard a grunt bolt from his chest. With a grimace of hate, the guy began to apply more pressure. And Dom felt it. He had the strength, the momentum, gravity was on his side. Dom groaned. Through bleary eyes, he watched helpless as the sharp tip of the blade began to inch toward his chest, painfully slow.
FIGHT! FIGHT!
Dom pushed back, but it was useless.
The guy’s face shook under the pressure he was applying. The blade kept coming down, the strength virtually gone from Dom’s limbs. He watched on with apathetic eyes.
I’m about to die… Jesus, I’m about to frickin’ die…
Push him off! Push him off! Dom gave it one last effort. But the knife kept on coming.
Dom saw the sweat streaming down the guy’s face, saw the sick grin now spread across his face; he knew he was so close to winning this bizarre arm wrestle. So close. He pushed harder with another grunt. Dom groaned in horror as the tip of the blade poked his rib, pricking the skin beneath his tee.
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.