Gidion's Hunt Page 13

  A search of the previous calls made and received provided a bit of good news. He hadn’t spoken with anyone since following him to the bookstore. Still, it wasn’t like his coven wouldn’t know the person he’d been tracking. The question was how soon they’d miss him and what Gidion could do to leave them uncertain who was to blame for him being MIA. He could deal with that later. The question that bothered him the most was what to do if Grandpa didn’t show.

  Before Gidion could search through the phone more, a groan from his prisoner announced it was time to start the interrogation. He powered down the cell phone and set it aside.

  He wondered if his guest’s eyes would have healed. They opened, but one look told him all he needed to know. This guy needed a seeing eye dog to go anywhere, and since vampires freaked the hell out of dogs, that left this guy shit outta luck.

  “Sucks being blind, doesn’t it?” Gidion plucked a follicle of hair from his head.

  The vampire screamed in surprise. “Fuck you!”

  “Whatever.” Gidion poured as much indifference into his voice as he could manage. “Bet you wish you’d stuck with driving circles around my house.”

  “Think you’re clever, don’t you?” The vampire laughed. “You’d be a lot more impressive if I couldn’t hear your heart beating like a baby squirrel pissing in his nest.”

  Heightened senses. He hadn’t considered that in planning his approach to this. Of course, he wasn’t all that sure how good those senses worked. Maybe it depended on the vampire.

  “That’s what gave me away back at the bookstore, wasn’t it?” Gidion laughed. “You smelled my previous kills.”

  “Vampire blood is distinct.”

  Gidion clapped in a slow fashion that was full of contempt. “I’d almost think you were smart, but the fact there were several passengers’ blood in there, you were pretty arrogant coming after me by yourself.”

  “You’re just a scared little boy.”

  “And you’re a blind vampire on the conveyer belt of a cremator. If you want to roll into those flames with your lungs still turning oxygen into carbon dioxide, just keep being an uncooperative asshole. Won’t bother me a bit.”

  His prisoner snarled at him. The sound of it echoed in the small room and made Gidion jump back a step.

  “Oh, that is scary.” Gidion laughed. “Probably would be a lot scarier if you weren’t all wrapped up in duct tape and blind…but scary.” He playfully punched the vampire on the shoulder as one might when picking on a close friend.

  He picked up his baseball bat and gave it a quick swing, the whistle of air inches from the vampire’s ear. “You’d also be a lot scarier if you didn’t feel pain.” He brought the bat down with all his strength on the vampire’s legs, just above the ankles. The aluminum bat delivered a satisfying crunch. Gidion winced and was glad the vampire couldn’t see that. He needed to be brutal and unforgiving. He hadn’t expected that to be difficult. This thing wasn’t human, not even truly alive, but he looked it. He doubted the vampire could sense that hesitation through the pain of those broken bones.

  “Yeah, I’d be a lot of more worried if I couldn’t hurt you, but clearly, that’s not an issue, is it?”

  The vampire said nothing to that.

  “Let’s discuss your options here.” Gidion plucked another hair. “Option one: I ask questions and you answer them truthfully. I like that option, because it’s productive. Then there’s option two where I smash the ever loving crap out of you with my bat. Oh, I should point out that I kind of like that option, too, because I enjoy the irony of beating up a vampire with a bat.”

  He tapped the tip of the bat against the edge of the conveyer next to the vampire’s ear.

  “My, you are the funny one, aren’t you?” The vampire sighed. “Ask your questions, Gallagher.”

  Who was Gallagher? Gidion decided not to bother asking. Was probably one of those generation gap things. “Why don’t we start with who the leader of your coven is? Who is it?”

  “That would be Satan.” He smirked.

  Gidion brought the bat down on the legs again. The swing was rewarded with a loud scream from his captive.

  “Here’s a tip. Leave the jokes to me. You stick with the honest answers.” He tapped the bat on the conveyer again as a reminder. “Let’s try that question again. Who’s the leader of your coven?”

  A growl rumbled within his throat, but the vampire finally spoke. “His name is Alistair.”

  Gidion had started his swing when he heard the word “His.” Thanks to Pete, he already knew who the coven leader was. This just gave him a way to know when his prisoner was being honest with him. This swing struck just below the knees.

  “Now, that’s just not nice. I’m starting to think you like option two.” He wiped the sweat from his brow.

  The vampire choked as he tried to respond. “Why don’t you suck my—”

  Gidion placed the tip of the bat on the appendage he was sure the vampire was about to refer to and just let it sit there, the weight of it. “I’m betting those heightened senses aren’t limited to hearing and smelling, are they? I gotta think your sense of touch is pretty phenomenal. Just how much do you think it’s going to hurt when my swings work their way up to here?”

  “I think you are a monstrous child.”

  “I think you better start answering my questions!” Gidion shouted, his lips inches from the vampire’s ear. This time, it was the vampire who flinched. “Who leads your coven!”

  Still no answer. “Who is it!”

  Gidion raised the bat and smashed it down on both kneecaps. The sound of cracking bones was joined by a disgusting pop. Tears flowed from the vampire’s eyes.

  “I’m getting really tired of option one.”

  The response wasn’t what Gidion expected. The vampire laughed, a sound that resonated with the pain he’d inflicted, but he laughed at him. “No, hunter. I think you’re getting tired of option two.”

  This wasn’t working. He couldn’t even get the information he already knew out of this guy. What would Grandpa do? He’d probably tell Gidion to use his fool head for a change.

  Gidion pulled out his box cutter and delivered a small cut to the vampire’s arm. Blood dripped from the wound but then healed.

  “You don’t care about your bones, do you?” Gidion thumped a finger against the injuries to the legs. They were already trying to heal, he suspected. “Only thing you give a damn about is blood, right?”

  He made another small cut, this one to the cheek.

  A panicked hiss answered.

  “You’re right. I am tired of option two.” Gidion shrugged. “Too much work, but I can cut you all night. It’s just a few drops at a time, mind you, but at some point, I’ll bleed you dry. You can heal your flesh, restore your bones, but you can’t replace that blood, not without feeding…and you aren’t getting any more blood.”

  The next cut was to the vampire’s throat.

  “Elizabeth!” The answer startled Gidion. He hadn’t really expected it work. “Her name is Elizabeth.”

  Gidion placed the edge of his box cutter’s blade against the throat again. “And why should I believe you now? You’ve been lying to me up to this point.”

  “Her name is Elizabeth.” He growled, an angry but desperate sound.

  “And where do I find her?”

  Something in the vampire’s spirit sank when Gidion asked that question. He suspected that reaction meant one thing, and the possibility seemed ridiculous.

  Gidion cut the vampire’s throat again.

  “Dammit!” The frustration in his captive’s voice only made Gidion more certain his fears were true. “I don’t know where she is.”

  “Right.” Gidion cut his arm.

  “I don’t know! I swear!”

  Gidion stabbed his box cutter in the center of the vampire’s chest.

  “No! You have to know a way to reach her.”

  “Her feeder! Her damn feeder is how we communicate.”

/>   A feeder, and Gidion had a hunch who that might be. “The feeder’s name, what is it?”

  “I only know her first name.” He banged the back of his head against the conveyer. “Stephanie.”

  Gidion kicked the base of the conveyer. He knew more than his prisoner. Everything kept going back to his schoolmate Stephanie Drake.

  Gidion pulled out the vampire’s cell phone. “You were ordered to watch my house. Where did that order come from? Did she call you? Text you?”

  “Email.” The vampire bit out the word as if to chew it in half. He was getting his spirit back.

  “Don’t,” Gidion cut his shoulder, a long deep gash, “get snippy with me.” He looked at the touch screen to the cell phone and saw what looked like an email icon near the top of the apps displayed. A tap of the icon opened straight to the inbox, no password required. How nice of him.

  The vampire lunged at him. The movement caught Gidion completely off guard. He didn’t think the guy could manage to bend his body like that as bound in duct tape as he was. The attack knocked down Gidion and sent the vampire tumbling to the floor beside him. Fangs snapped after him. Gidion scrambled away. Any slower and Gidion would have lost a chunk of forearm. He snatched up his sword and slammed it down through his prisoner’s neck. The head rolled away from its body.

  Gidion’s hands shook as he stared at the now vacant eyes. He balled his hands into fists. His fingernails nearly drew blood as he forced himself to steady. He’d expected this to be simpler than hunting down a vampire and killing it in the field. He thought he knew the nature of the thing he hunted. He’d been wrong.

  What finally calmed his nerves were thoughts of Grandpa. Gidion needed to make sure he was all right, but he couldn’t go anywhere until after he’d cleaned up this mess.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grandpa Murphy didn’t live in the worst part of Richmond by any stretch, but his neighborhood had seen better days and far better nights. Dad had never flat-out forbidden Gidion from coming down here after dark, but his curfew on the nights he visited Grandpa changed with daylight saving time.

  The outside resembled the inside in the sense that Keep hands were to blame for its current condition. Grandpa considered the peeling paint a part of its charm and the warp of the front steps the equivalent of snarled lips to discourage unwanted guests…which included anybody with two legs. Gidion suspected one-legged and no-legged folks would do well to avoid the place, too.

  The light to the front porch didn’t work, the bulb long since burned out. Grandpa had insisted he’d get around to replacing it and refused any offer from Gidion or Dad to do it for him.

  Gidion’s headlights flashed across the front porch as he turned into the driveway. At least the front door didn’t look disturbed. His car’s lights glared back at him as they pulled within inches of the dented bumper to Grandpa’s pickup. The Ford had a paint job to match the house.

  He turned off his car. After his eyes adjusted to the dark, he unlocked the doors and got out. The temperature had taken a winter-steep dive since sunset. He zipped up his hoodie and gripped his box cutter in the front pocket.

  From the front, everything looked fine, but one of Grandpa’s rules of vampire hunting warned never to enter any potentially-compromised building by the front until you’ve checked the back.

  Walking down the driveway, he placed a hand on the pickup’s hood. Grandpa hadn’t been anywhere, and if he had, he certainly hadn’t driven there.

  Gidion continued his three sixty. He knew all of the best hiding places this property had to offer. The tree in the backyard had thick branches ideal for climbing, but most of the leaves had fallen by now so it didn’t provide any cover. A bush near the back neighbor’s fence was a good place to hide. Nobody was there.

  The house was dark and all of the curtains closed. He couldn’t see anything moving. At least the back screen porch was closed. Nothing looked out of place or damaged, at least not from anything other than simple neglect.

  The air unit, sticking out of a side window, rumbled to life just as Gidion passed. He drew his box cutter and turned in a full circle looking for the attack that wasn’t there. He cursed and headed for the front. This time, he didn’t bother putting his box cutter back in his pocket.

  He climbed the front steps and cringed to a halt as the third and final one creaked, the house laughing at how easily it had caught him. Letting the silence reassert itself, he stood there while he inspected the front door more closely to confirm all was as it should be. If anything was wrong, he couldn’t see it. He lifted his foot from the step, and the house laughed at him again. Between the steps and the air unit making him squeal, Gidion figured anyone who was here would know he was.

  Just as he was about to knock, the front door flung open. He jumped back and ducked to the right as twin barrels shoved their way out of the shadows to glare at him.

  “Get the fuck off my property!” Grandpa shouted, although the words slurred their way out of his mouth. Probably didn’t have his dentures, but Gidion suspected the stench of stale beer had more to do with the poor enunciation.

  “Grandpa, it’s me!”

  Grandpa didn’t lower the rifle in his hands. His body swayed left to right. Eyes squinted until they found Gidion at the bottom of the steps.

  “Gidion? What the hell you doing here?”

  He moved to the left to get out of the rifle’s line of fire, but when Grandpa tried to follow him with his eyes, the gun moved with him.

  “Jesus, Grandpa! Put the gun down!”

  Odds favored the only way he’d successfully shoot something at this point would require doing so at point blank range, but the way Gidion’s night had gone thus far, he wasn’t going to risk it.

  “Boy!” Grandpa’s face pinched as he continued to sway in place. The task of forming a sentence from raw thought looked as if it required all his mental power. “What are you doing here?” At least, that was what Gidion assumed he was trying to ask, because what he said might as well have been in Korean.

  “You weren’t answering your phone.” Gidion kept his words slow and precise. Even doing that, Grandpa didn’t look as if he’d understood anything he’d said. At least that placed them on an equal playing field, because whatever Grandpa said next, there was no deciphering it.

  Taking slow steps at first, Gidion climbed to Grandpa and took the rifle from him. “Are you all right?”

  Grandpa swayed a bit and then grabbed him in this big hug that forced Gidion to support all of his weight. For a man who didn’t look that big, he about knocked Gidion to the ground.

  “Let’s get you back to bed.”

  To his surprise, Grandpa didn’t resist. Gidion used the same arm-over-the-shoulder carry to get Grandpa to bed that he’d used to drag more than one vampire’s corpse to his car, a detail he tried not to dwell on as they dodged an empty bottle of Killian’s on the way to the bedroom.

  Grandpa rambled in his drunk “Kor-english” the entire way which meant Gidion understood none of it. He did his best to make the drop into bed as gentle as possible, but the fall resembled a belly flop. Grandpa didn’t seem to mind and snored within seconds of landing.

  The front door was still open. The rifle was leaning against the front porch railing where Gidion had left it. He brought that back inside. He was about to put it back in its rack beside the bedroom door then thought better of it. Being threatened with bullets once in a night was enough. He shoved it under the sofa where he knew he’d be sleeping tonight.

  Running back out to his car, Gidion pulled out the blue backpack. He’d shoved some of the vampire’s belongings into it before rushing out of the funeral home. He tossed the backpack onto the couch. Grandpa’s snoring vibrated through the walls from the bedroom, so Gidion hunted for something to drown him out. Grandpa didn’t own a TV or a computer, but he had an old CD player. His music collection was pretty damned pitiful, mostly people like Ella Fitzgerald and Rosemary Clooney, whoever the hell they were. Gidion
found the one CD he’d enjoyed as a kid during his overnight visits, a collection of songs by Louis Armstrong.

  Ain’t Misbehavin’ turned Grandpa’s snoring into a memory as Gidion unzipped his backpack. His shadow had carried the usual items: a wallet and cell phone. He’d already seen the driver’s license which had named his shadow as Milton Robbins. That had to be legit, because what self-respecting vampire would use “Milton” for an alias?

  The cell phone offered the most promise. He clicked on the touchscreen and went straight for the email icon. The inbox didn’t offer a lot. What he wouldn’t give for a vampire who had a packrat mentality towards email and text messages. At least there were a few emails: mostly Facebook and Twitter notifications. Interesting. This guy must have been a young vampire.

  An email from “RichmondCoven@gmail.com” caught Gidion’s attention. The message was a reply to a “status update” his shadow had emailed Stephanie yesterday morning. The nimrod had started circling his place less than an hour after the cops had run him off. On the bright side, the jerk had confirmed that Gidion hadn’t gone anywhere last night. Stephanie had just told him to keep watch, or rather that Elizabeth wanted him to stay on Gidion until she was satisfied Gidion really just thought they were dealing drugs and ignorant that they were vampires. She also wanted him to email them updates each morning.

  Gidion sifted through the sent emails. The last email sent was the status report Stephanie had replied to. That was a good sign. A closer inspection of the phone revealed no outgoing phone calls or text messages between the trip to the mall and the ambush outside Gidion’s house.

  “He lives somewhere different,” Gidion said to himself. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t need to email those reports. He could do them in person. On the downside, that meant he couldn’t track down this guy’s home to find the rest of the coven, but that also meant the coven wouldn’t know right away that Milton was dead. Gidion just needed to email Stephanie status reports with this phone to keep them off his scent. If he could hunt down and kill a vampire tomorrow night, then Gidion could email an update telling them he’d never left his house. They’d be convinced Gidion wasn’t a hunter, at least long enough for him to find the rest of the coven and finish them.