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?’
Dom watched him with baited breath. Please make them darts work. Please make them work! his mind gibbered. PLEASE MAKE THEM WORK!
The vamp turned his head to the side. Dom watched his jaw open up again, locking eyes on the terror of those gleaming fangs. The vamp slowly turned back to face him, his teeth bared and ready. Dom’s heart sank. The strength had left him, and he knew at any moment those teeth would be plunging into his neck, cause guess what, buddy? Yeah, those darts just don’t work. They’re duds. She scammed you, and you believed her...
His chest locked tight, fear assaulting every part of him. Please no, please no...
He watched helpless as the vamp titled his head back, that mouth cavernous and ready to strike like the open jaws of an attacking cobra.
But it never came.
From somewhere, Dom felt the buildup of tremors. His eyes rolled around in confusion as the vamp’s limbs began to mildly vibrate. Dom watched in confusion as the vamp’s face started to shake and tremble; it was like he were experiencing some kind of inner earthquake. His jaw shuddered, a nasty guttural noise chugging out from his throat with every quiver. Dom slunk back in repulsion. The vamp continued to tremor, his grip on Dom suddenly loosening. Dom seized the opportunity. He pushed the vamp away with all his might. The vamp flew through the air like he was a toy. He bounced across the floorboards, the bodily vibrations growing with every passing second.
Dom rolled away to the side, got up on his elbows and watched on.
The vamp was now convulsing on the floorboards as if they were electrically charged. His fangs juddered together; a nasty clacking sound echoed through the room. His hands shot into the air, his fingers curling into claws. A hot, pain-riddled screech shot from his mouth that sounded to Dom like cats serenading in Hell. He shrunk back in fear against what he was seeing and hearing, not really knowing what he was witnessing.
He glanced down at his hand to see the dart gun still in his grip. Then it became clear. The chick with the green eyes hadn’t let him down.
The darts worked.
He looked back at the vamp. He was now spasming heavily, that nasty screech ongoing. What’s going on with him? Dom asked himself.
Before he could come up with an answer, the vamp’s back straightened; it came off the floorboards with the flexibility of a gymnast. Everything went rigid. The screeching stopped. And then he came crashing back to the floorboards.
Everything then went calm. Silent.
The buzzing in Dom’s spine abruptly shut off like the music at the end of a party.
Dom kept his eyes on the vamp’s motionless body, wary of it springing back into life. It lay where it was. Unmoving and hopefully dead.
Dom caught his breath. What the hell just happened?
Holy water, buddy. She told you.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned in exhaustion, his head flopping back onto the floorboards. Terrified excitement juddered through him like he’d just come off a fairground ride. His chest heaved.
Man, that was intense... he thought to himself between heavy breaths.
It ain’t over yet, buddy, a voice piped up in his mind. You still gotta get him outta here...
Dom rolled his eyes to the side to meet the dead vamp sprawled on the floor.
He grabbed his forehead. “Oh, man...” he groaned.