Gidion's Hunt Page 20

  By the time he reached the neighborhood where Elizabeth’s house was hidden, the clock on the dashboard display on his borrowed Toyota was getting close to four. He legally parked his car on the road, positioned so that it wasn’t directly in front of any single house. He wiped down the interior to make sure he wouldn’t leave any fingerprints. There was a good chance he might not make it back to the car before any cops arrived, and he didn’t want anything leading to him left here. He also needed to limit anything that would prompt a call to the police. The only thing he had in his favor was that Elizabeth wouldn’t want police showing up at her house either.

  This was where things would get risky for him, though. He would be putting his trust in Stephanie’s intel. If what she told him about the house was true, then it explained exactly why Elizabeth had chosen 9718 Callums Hill Road as her home. From the outside, the two-story house with its white vinyl siding hid what made it unique. The entire subdivision had belonged to a wealthy family up until the 1970s when the family business had gone bust. The plot where Elizabeth’s house was built happened to fall exactly where the original home had been, right on top of a fallout shelter that had been added to the property back in the sixties. According to Stephanie, the Cuban Missile Crisis had created a plethora of homes with underground shelters perfect for vampires. The designer for this house had cleverly altered the cookie-cutter design to include a set of stairs leading from the kitchen to the hidden bunker.

  The house itself offered plenty of subtle warnings for people to stay the fuck off the property. The backyard was surrounded by a nine-foot tall, wooden privacy fence. The front yard was bordered by neatly trimmed bushes that, while not nearly tall enough to hide the house, created a subconscious deterrent to coming onto the property. The most obvious touch was a black sign on the front mailbox that stated “No Trespassing” in big orange letters.

  Gidion approached the house from the side by cutting through the neighbor’s yard and hopping the hedges. The house design didn’t include any windows on this side of the house, because of the garage. From this point forward, it was all about moving too fast for anyone to see him and avoid arousing the neighbors’ suspicions. Cutting through the neighbor’s yard was about as great a risk as he could take.

  From there he pulled out one of the spray bottles he’d hooked to the back of his belt. He sprayed the side of the house like an over-enthusiastic exterminator laying down a layer of insecticide. The vampires inside wouldn’t likely miss the scent of gasoline outside the house, not with their heightened sense of smell. He was banking on that.

  He hopped the privacy fence. Signs on the fence warned to “Beware of Dog,” but according to Stephanie, there weren’t any. Given how dogs reacted to vampires, he wasn’t surprised. There weren’t any lights on the outside of the house that reached over here, so that left him enough shadows to go unnoticed by any neighbors who might just happen to look out their windows, not that many were likely to at four in the morning.

  He managed to spray most of the back of the house with gasoline before the door to the kitchen opened. The only thing missing was Bela Lugosi saying, “Enter freely and of your own will.” He didn’t drop the spray bottle in his hand to draw his box cutter. Instead, he waited, ready to draw his weapon if Roddy or his remaining partner attacked. Stephanie had said that one was a woman Elizabeth had turned a few years ago. The woman hadn’t been a feeder, which had led to the deadly friction between Elizabeth and Steph’s predecessor.

  The vampires never came out, though. They wanted him inside. That was just as well. He’d been debating on how he was going to manage that without making a lot of noise, breaking a window and the sort.

  He sprayed more of the back with the gasoline, emptying the sixteen ounce spray bottle. The vampires must have been pretty confident he wouldn’t torch the house with Tamara and Pete in there. They were right. Despite his bravado with Grandpa, he couldn’t just burn this place down. According to Stephanie, Tamara and Pete were being held in the underground bomb shelter. They’d probably be safe down there, but that didn’t guarantee the vampires wouldn’t kill them out of spite or simply hole up in the shelter with them.

  Part of him had hoped the gas would draw Roddy or the other vampire outside. No such luck. They were being patient, forcing him into the dark and where the walls would muffle any screams.

  No point in keeping them waiting. He remembered Roddy saying, “Time is on my side,” in that sing-song voice back at the diner in Carytown. Had that really been this same night? It felt like a week ago.

  The memory of Grandpa Murphy’s wisdom chided him, ‘Move fast, be smart and know when to run like Satan’s close enough to lick your ass.’ Running wasn’t an option tonight. He walked onto the back porch to the open door. This was going to be close quarters combat. That meant he’d go in with the box cutter drawn instead of the sword.

  The kitchen looked immaculate, likely by virtue of having never been used in the decade since Elizabeth acquired the place. Even though it didn’t have a table, it did contain an island. The counter had a block of knives. He didn’t want to think about what they did with those.

  A flash of red light offered him his only warning, but it was enough. He darted to the right as the prongs shot out of a Taser. If he’d been a second slower, this would’ve been all over. The female vampire must have had the Taser, because Roddy immediately lunged at him from the shadows of the den.

  Just before Gidion could swing at him with his box cutter, he realized Roddy had a switchblade in his hand. He dodged Roddy’s swings and raced for the island, placing it between them. Roddy laughed. Gidion assumed Roddy was keeping him busy to let his partner reload her Taser.

  Gidion decided to go for the unexpected and placed his box cutter down on the island.

  “Dumb move, kid.”

  Gidion pulled the extra bottle from his belt with his left and sprayed Roddy’s face with it as the vampire came after him. With his right, Gidion drew the multipurpose lighter and set the vampire on fire.

  Roddy howled, dropping his knife as he drew back scrambling for the sink. Gidion sprayed him a second time, sending up a fireball in the kitchen. The bright light exposed the female vampire in the den. The flames distracted her in the middle of reloading her taser. Gidion decided there was enough room in the den for the sword and ran right at her.

  She gave up on reloading and tried to get him with the Taser, using it like a stun gun. The sword won. The blade sliced off a finger as he went for her arms. The Taser fell. The vampire shrieked and fled from his attack, but it was already too late. He ran her through the heart with the sword and added a twist to increase the damage as he pulled it free for a slice at her head. She ducked, but not enough to avoid a cut to her forehead. They went back and forth, her trying to flee and him countering with a swing. The longer they took, the more fearful he became that Roddy would recover, despite the endless screams he heard from the kitchen.

  Gidion achieved his checkmate. The final swing buried his sword’s blade deep into her throat. He didn’t take her head, but blood sprayed from the wound and dropped her to the floor with a pathetic mewl. He had to plant his foot on her chest to jerk the weapon free.

  The fire that was Roddy was still blazing in the kitchen, sprawled across the island. Flames licked up the thick, black curtains over the sink. The only movement from him was the flames. Gidion scanned the house before drawing closer to him. The stench of burned hair and flesh had Gidion close to puking.

  He decided it best to be certain and raised his sword to behead him. He slammed the sword down. Just before he struck, Roddy jerked back. The sword stabbed into the island’s surface and stuck.

  Roddy hissed at him. His face was reduced to a melted mass with a mouth. The fiery monster ran at him, forcing Gidion to retreat without a weapon in hand. The idea of getting burned in a bear hug made him panic. He ran into the den, Roddy screaming in his pursuit. Just before Gidion was out of room to retreat, he regained his nerve.
He stood his ground and kicked Roddy as hard as he could in the chest. For all of Roddy’s rage, the fire had weakened him to a charred husk. Even if he hadn’t heard the crunch of bone, Gidion felt the ribcage cave beneath his foot. The kick sent Roddy over the back of the sofa. He fell to the floor and went silent after a long sigh as if to exhale his last bit of life. Bits of burning vampire clung to the bottom of Gidion’s shoe. He stomped it on the floor to put it out.

  Flames slid up the back of the sofa as Gidion waited to be sure Roddy was finished. The burning body didn’t twitch. Satisfied that task was done, he looked up at the stairs, expecting to see Elizabeth, but no one was there. He didn’t have time to search the house, not with the flames spreading. What mattered was getting Tamara and Pete out of here. He was willing to bet that if Elizabeth was here, then she had probably fled to the safety of the bomb shelter where she had her prisoners.

  He wondered if he’d even be able to get in there. Did she want to confront him? The flames had reached the ceiling in the kitchen. Now that he didn’t have to worry about a burning vampire coming after him, he worked his sword free. His box cutter had dropped to the floor, and he retrieved that, too.

  The door down to the bomb shelter was positioned next to the refrigerator and cracked open. Halfway down the stairs, he crouched for a better look. The bottom wasn’t an actual room, but a short hallway with two doors to the right. A small set of keys were placed on a hook on the wall between the doors. The hall appeared empty, so he hurried down with his sword drawn. With any luck, he could use the narrow space to his advantage, charge Elizabeth and run her through.

  The first door was open, but the room within was unoccupied. The inside reminded him of the basement in the safe house with a single bench that doubled for a bed. Two chains were linked to the wall and connected to a pair of shackles which were open and lying on the floor. A drain was set in the center of the room.

  The second door in the hallway was open with more light coming from it. He crept towards it, but stopped when he heard Elizabeth’s voice.

  “Gidion Keep, if your goal is to sneak up on me, you would do better to learn to float. You are quite loud.”

  He leaned forward to glance in the room. Tamara and Pete were in there…with Elizabeth. The Queen Bee smiled at him.

  “If he steps through the door, please break her neck, dear Peter.”

  Gidion had expected some kind of winsome waif; Elizabeth was anything but. She was tall and built like a rock. If she’d been green, she could have passed for She-Hulk’s twin sister. She was a black woman, but her skin had lost much of its hue, resembling a grayish-brown that was still strangely attractive.

  She stood just behind Pete and stroked his hair with propriety.

  “Hey, Gidion.” Pete laughed. His smile was nervous and his glassy eyes refused to stay focused on one thing. As unfocused as he appeared, his grip on the chain wrapped around Tamara’s neck was taut. The chain was bolted to the far wall and attached to the shackle on Pete’s right wrist.

  Tamara was pushed to her knees. Her fingers clawed at the chain choking her. He recognized it was a token effort, though. Thin lines of blood spilled down her throat to her light purple night shirt. She’d been fed on to weaken her. Pete appeared to have received the same treatment, only he’d been given a taste of vampire blood. Given how jittery Pete sounded, Elizabeth had probably fed him from herself. Odds favored he wasn’t used to that kind of quality product and certainly not as weak as he’d been, like going from Advil to cocaine.

  “Pete, let her go.”

  Elizabeth’s hand gripped Pete’s head. “If Mister Keep fails to do what I say, you will pull that chain tight until she dies.” She spoke softly into his ear. “Do that, and I’ll let you drink from me.”

  The way Pete’s hand shook, he was half-choking Tamara already.

  “Pete, she’s just going to kill you.”

  “No.” Her voice managed to cut at him and soothe Pete at the same time. “I take the pain away. Don’t I, Peter?”

  Pete nodded like he was fighting off a seizure. He was terrified. “Yes, ma’am.” That’s when Gidion finally understood just how far gone his friend really was. The threat of not having that blood was equal to a gun barrel pressed against his temple.

  Elizabeth lazily pointed at Gidion’s sword. “Mister Keep, place your weapon on the floor and slide it over here.”

  Gidion considered sliding it to Tamara, but the way Pete was holding her, she’d never be able to reach down for it. On the upside, she wasn’t chained to the wall like Pete. They must have been holding her in the first room and brought her in here for Elizabeth’s little show of power with Pete.

  Did Elizabeth realize he had the box cutter in his hoodie’s pocket? If not, that might work in his favor. He just needed to get close enough. She wouldn’t go down easily, though. She’d just fed, and she resembled some kind of wrestler. He’d kind of hoped for one of those Victorian gals in some ridiculous outfit that made fighting impractical, but Elizabeth wore a bright green sports tank and black workout pants.

  “So what’s your play here, Elizabeth? You think that chain around Tamara’s throat will keep me from stopping you from walking out of here?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Her head canted as if that improved her view of him. “I’d be tempted to try and turn you. You have such a talent for killing that it seems a pity to waste it, but I’ve seen other elders try to turn their enemies.” She chuckled. “Such efforts always end in disaster. No, Mister Keep, I mean to kill you. Here. Now.”

  He took his time kneeling to set the sword on the floor. “Just to satisfy my curiosity, what have you got planned for Tamara?”

  “Killing you seems waste enough.” She reached around Pete to caress Tamara’s bare shoulder. “I might try to keep this one. Killing her parents seems to have taken the fight out of her. I suspect you dying next will finish the job.” She smirked at him. “Stall any longer and any option for Tamara’s continued life will vanish with an unpleasant snap of her neck. Slide the sword over.”

  “Surprised you aren’t willing to do it yourself.” Gidion kicked the sword towards her. “You like fucking up the little girls, just not killing them. Why is that?”

  Despite the fire above, the room dropped a few degrees from the chill in her eyes. He wondered what the chances were anyone had noticed the fire yet. Given the privacy fence and that it was about 4:30 in the morning, probably not likely if the flames hadn’t moved outside yet. “Oh, I’m willing to get my hands dirty, Mister Keep. I simply need my hands free to get your blood on them first.”

  Pete’s eyes continued to dance around the room, but now Gidion understood why. They were avoiding looking at Gidion out of guilt.

  “I’m going to play with your friend, Peter,” Elizabeth whispered to him. “Keep the chain tight.”

  Elizabeth stepped around Pete and hissed at Gidion. Damn she was tall. This crazy bitch looked like she wanted to beat him to death with her bare hands. The bad news was that she looked more than capable of it.

  Only she wasn’t going to settle for that. She stopped to pick up his sword.

  “What’s good for the goose, Mister Keep.”

  Was it too much to hope she didn’t have any skill with a sword? The way she rushed at him answered that fast enough. Her swings were swift and controlled. Her third swing slit through the front of his shirt, and if he hadn’t jumped back when he did, his stomach would have split open instead of sporting a light cut.

  Gidion retreated back into the bunker’s hallway.

  “No, don’t run away, Mister Keep.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his box cutter. The sight of the small blade received a loud laugh from Elizabeth.

  A feint drew her into a swing at him, but she was too skilled to give him an opening. They went back and forth. The lack of sleep and the mass of bruises his body had suffered the past week were taking their toll. She moved with a lizard’s speed and ease. That s
he hadn’t run him through yet was a miracle or perhaps a sign she was just toying with him.

  Desperate to gain the advantage, Gidion rushed at her. She slashed at his leg, sending him to the floor. Pain blinded him, the fall only adding to the pain. She’d driven the blade deep with that cut.

  “Disappointing,” she said.

  He rolled forward as she swung the sword down at him. With one hand, he grabbed her wrist, stopping the attack short of his torso. He sliced her forearm with his box cutter. Blood rained onto his head, getting in his hair and his face.

  Elizabeth’s scream echoed off the bare, metal walls. Before he could deliver another cut, she flung him down the corridor at the stairs. He slid across the smooth surface, the top of his back cracking against the edge of the bottom step, sending lightning bolts of agony through his body.

  He recovered just in time to see Elizabeth run at him, sword raised and ready to strike. She slammed the sword down, every bit of her strength behind the attack. He rolled to the right and felt the breeze from the swing. The blade struck the concrete with a chime and snapped.

  Gidion planted his foot into her stomach. The break in his sword had caught her by surprise, put her off-balance. He wasn’t sure how much the kick had hurt her, but it sent her falling backwards. She lost the sword trying to break her fall with her hands and it landed several feet behind her, just beyond his reach.

  He took the opening he had and jumped on her. He slammed the butt of his box cutter at her face. The impact hurt his hand, but he heard something crunch. She’d heal from whatever injury it was quickly enough, but he’d hurt her and made her scream. He punched with his left at her throat. Her eyes widened as the blow cut off her air for a split second, her scream cut in half.

  The next strike was with the box cutter, the blade intended for her jugular. Elizabeth grabbed his forearm, stopping him short of his target. Before he could counter, her other hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him off her. He gasped, unable to catch a breath. He tried to pry off her fingers as the lack of air made him panic. He needed to get free. His heart was pounding wildly, and he swore he could hear it like a drum in his ears. He forced down his fear, realizing he couldn’t peel off her fingers, that getting free would require something thought out, if he had enough air to feed his brain for the task.