Bent Arrow, page 6
Vampires came and went even though it was daytime; come the night the real action would begin. The numnuts did their deals, called for the youngsters to dive into the house and retrieve vials, but by late afternoon one of the kids came out of the house and shook his head. They were out of stock. Business had been brisk, as I assumed it would be. As there were fewer people out and about at this time of year, the vampires didn't have such easy pickings, so they relied more on Vamp2 to see them through the lean times. Even though it gave the hit and the feeling of power, it wasn't the same as actually drinking blood. It didn't rejuvenate them, make them strong in the same way, merely screwed them up. Gave a buzz like no other.
The gang closed up shop and most went inside the house. The new boss and one other remained. White kids in their early twenties with designer tracksuits and expensive trainers, they were stereotypes of poor kids who thought the only way out was crime. Bottom of the ladder, that's what they were. Being used and abused same as they did to the young kids, but bad just the same. You could feel sorry for people trapped like this because of poverty or upbringing, but you also had to acknowledge some people were just plain bad, and these dudes were definitely that.
You can make excuses, and sometimes people really don't want to do what they do, but I knew from our meetings that these were not those kinds of men. They didn't care about anyone else, and they deserved no pity. They wouldn't get any either. The two men got into an expensive SUV and wound down the windows and turned up the sounds so everyone would know how cool they were. They really didn't understand how dispensable they were, or maybe they did and that was why they put on such an act. Whatever, I wasn't interested in them, just who they got the Vamp2 from. It would lead us one step closer to the real players, the men at the top. The vampire overlords.
Okay, a tad dramatic maybe. Chances were they were in charge of the drugs only, not the vampires themselves, and to be fair there were more vamps that hated Vamp2 with a vengeance than were addicted. Heck, even the addicts hated it. Vamp2 took away from the true nature of the vampire, which was to feed and hunt, be strong and graceful, alert and with heightened senses. They saw it as an affront to all they stood for, yet not a one of them had ever succeeded in shutting down its operation. That didn't bode well for us, but we'd promised Aunty so what else could we do but try our hardest?
We followed the two twats as they drove out of town for ten minutes or so, then headed off the main roads into the countryside. Then it was down a dirt track past sheep grazing on grass already razed to the ground. They pulled up at an old farmhouse and stepped out of the SUV.
After parking behind a high stone wall, we watched from the trees as they trudged across a muddy yard where dogs barked and chickens ran. They swore and moaned about the dirt and joked about why anyone would live away from the city, but they soon changed tone when the door to the cottage opened and a man dressed in traditional country attire stepped outside.
He wore a tweed suit, Le Chameau wellies, and a Barbour jacket. A dog ran between his legs and barked at the intruders. Words were exchanged, the man checked the road was clear, then scanned all around in case they'd been followed. One of the dealers said something but the country gent slapped him cross the face and began gesticulating wildly. He resumed his check and only once satisfied did he turn and go inside; the others followed.
"Guess he's the boss," said Hanna.
"Not the boss, but definitely higher up than them. He must supply them, that's obvious, and they're scared of him, but he won't be the source. Just another supplier in a long chain of bad people. Come on, let's get closer and see what's going on."
Hanna nodded then began to unpeel her vest.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm taking all my clothes off so I can be invisible," she said, like it was perfectly obvious. Maybe it was.
"Oh, yeah, good idea. Then you can sneak right inside and listen to what they say. I'll go round the back, wait there, see what I can see or hear. Come find me when you have some information."
"Will do," she said as she stripped down to her underwear. As she was about to undo her bra I turned away like a gentleman should.
"You are such a prude," she said, laughing. "Don't know why humans get so flustered about a naked body. It's just natural."
"I know that, and I am not flustered. But it's very off-putting."
"You saying I look fat?"
"Whoa! No, of course not. You have a lovely figure, and that's the problem."
"Men, so stupid."
"You got that right." A pile of clothes floated around in front of me and a disembodied voice said, "Stick these in your backpack."
"Right you are." I did as I was told then watched the footprints appear in the mud as Hanna approached the building.
After several minutes, and with no sirens blaring or gangs of men with machine guns suddenly appearing, I crept along the stone wall, skirted the cottage along the side where I was hidden by a hedge, dodged a couple of chickens, and tried not to make any noise before finally sliding through a gate and out of sight.
There were a lot more chickens pecking about in the overgrown grass, no garden as such, just land fenced off from livestock of about a third of an acre, then open countryside and small pockets of woodland. It was a lovely spot, no doubt nice and remote for drug dealing and keeping an eye out for strangers.
I hid behind a shed, then ninja-slid around it to the rear of the property where the stone was whitewashed and several extensions over the years made it jut out in different directions. It was hard to tell what was what.
After peeking through windows only to find I was looking into storage rooms, like sheds and even an old outside loo and a wood store, I finally peered through a window to the kitchen.
Around a large scrubbed pine table the three men sat. On the table were probably several hundred vials lined up neatly. The country "gent" sat at the head of the table with his back to me, brandishing a gun and shouting. I couldn't hear what he was saying thanks to the modern double glazing, but when the two gangsters suddenly stood and backed hurriedly away to the Rayburn, it wasn't anything good. One of them yelped and jumped forward, burning himself on the range, and the country dude leveled his gun at him for a second, probably thinking he was about to attack. The gangster held up his hands and spoke until soon things calmed down a little.
The gun was put down, and the man indicated for the others to sit. They were at the table for a while, talking, then a large envelope was placed on the table and slid across.
The supplier opened the envelope and spent five minutes carefully counting the cash before nodding. The gangsters carefully loaded up the vials into several rucksacks then made to leave.
Something else was said and an argument resumed, but it led nowhere and then the two gangsters left the room followed by the angry man in tweed.
"I don't like them," came a voice from behind me, scaring me half to death.
"Bloody hell, Hanna, you almost gave me a heart attack."
"Yeah, whatever. I do not like these men." I felt her hands rummaging in the backpack and she gradually appeared as she dressed. It was disconcerting to watch. As underwear went on so she became solid in a most mind-bending way. As panties were pulled up, legs appeared, and as her bra was fastened so her chest filled out. I couldn't for the life of me fathom how it worked or what the point was for such a convoluted system, but then, she could go invisible, which would be awesome.
"What happened in there? And be quick, they're leaving."
"I'll tell you in a minute, but nobody's leaving, you can be sure of that."
Before I had chance to say, "Oh, bugger," she was off like a rocket around the building.
"Oh, bugger," I said belatedly and tore after her, knowing that look in her eyes, understanding it meant death.
"Who the fuck are you?" shouted the man in tweed as I skidded around the corner and found Hanna already had the two gangsters in a headlock and was slamming their heads together.
"I'm your worst nightmare," she hissed.
"She really is," I told him. "The absolute worst."
"Let them go, and stand back, both of you." The man brandished a gun and there was no doubt he'd use it.
Hanna let the dealers go and stepped back to join me, but I knew she wasn't afraid, not bothered at all really. Why would she be?
"That fucking bitch! I'm gonna mess her up good and proper."
"Try it, tiny dick," snarled Hanna.
"Haha," laughed the other gangster. "She called you tiny dick."
"I know she did. I'm right here." He turned to Hanna. "I'll show you who's got a tiny dick."
"Um," I interjected. "Does that mean you're going to show her your tiny dick, or show her your mate's tiny dick?"
"Who the fuck are…" I saw it dawn on them, who I was, the fact I'd melted the arm off their old leader. The new one in charge didn't look so cocky all of a sudden.
"Shit, it's that dude. Freaky Spencer."
"You were followed?" said the man holding the gun. "What have I told you about being careful? Idiots."
I saw it before it happened, the twitch of the finger, the resolution. Rather than stepping aside, I shoved one of the gangsters at the weapon and it went off with him stumbling into the blast. Both gangster and gun owner stumbled back and collapsed just inside the doorway.
I pointed inside to the other one and he meekly retreated into the building.
Hanna leaped forward with impossible grace and kicked the shot man so he rolled off the one who'd fired.
"Now," she said softly as she relieved the home-owner of the weapon, "let's go have a chat in the kitchen, shall we?" She dragged him by his shirt collar back into the building.
I bent the dead dude's legs away from the doorway then shut the door. Some things are best done in private. Like sorting gangsters, that kind of thing.
Angry Angels
"I don't like him," said Hanna with a pout as she pointed at the flustered man sitting at the kitchen table.
"Feeling's mutual, my dear," he sneered, trying to be brave.
"You, don't move," I warned the utterly stressed gangster, as he shifted in his chair.
"Hey, man, just getting comfortable," he said, hands held up to pacify me.
"Well, don't."
"He's not a nice man," Hanna almost growled as again she pointed to the middleman.
"What happened? What did you hear?"
"He was laughing and joking about all the souls in the vials. Saying this batch was really good, different to the usual, as they were made to suffer more while they drained them. He laughed, like it was funny."
"Is that right?" I asked, turning to him.
He shrugged. "It is what it is. It's what the vamps want. I just give people what they like. Nothing more, nothing less." He was regaining his composure, beginning to act cocky, a look on his face like he was the one in charge. This guy was asking for trouble. More trouble than he was already in.
"Okay, we'll get to that soon enough. First, I'm going to ask you a question. I'll ask once, you understand?" He just stared at me, a slight sneer curling his lip, making me almost uncontrollably angry. Hanna slapped the sneer right off his face. He glared at her but said nothing.
"Right, one question, one chance. Then we are done here. Where do you get the Vamp2 from?"
"I'm not fucking telling you that! Do you seriously think I'll give you that information?"
"No, not really, but I had to ask."
"Can I kill him now?" asked Hanna.
"No, you already killed that other guy, and besides, this pathetic loser is mine," I told her.
"Hey, hey, look at me," I said to the now very worried-looking middleman. He shifted his attention from Hanna to me. I held his stare.
"Just tell him, man, they'll kill us if you don't," whined the gangster, literally trembling.
"They won't," he said, not looking like he was convincing himself.
"He's Freaky Spencer," shrieked the gangster, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Time's up, and you deserve worse," I told the man. I held his gaze once more, then slowly, calmly, I removed my shades. He stared into my eyes; I stared into his. I saw the shock as he witnessed my utterly black orbs begin to dance with murder. I knew what he was seeing, red swirls like flames coming from a bonfire in the dead of night. Dancing with mirth as death became real. He grabbed at his throat as his entire head turned puce. Pressure built as blood pooled in his brain, expanding his head like an orange balloon. He grasped his skull and squeezed as if he could force the pressure away, but there was no turning back, no escape for him.
He screamed, but his scream was cut short as his head exploded, spewing gore all over the table, the ceiling, the walls, and the gangster still sitting at the table. Hanna and I had the sense to be well out of range, knowing from experience how this went.
The gangster vomited as the body slumped forward, headless, the jagged spinal column pointing at him as if in accusation.
I didn't feel anything. Not elation, not relief, not remorse. I was numb, cold, and empty, yet a little of my humanity was taken from me, may I be cursed for my crimes.
Hanna and I moved from behind the blubbing gangster to stand behind the dead dude instead. I replaced my shades and we stood there, two harbingers of death, and let the man's fears play out. Gone was the attitude, the "I don't give a fuck" vibe, instead was just a man, a boy really, scared and wanting more than anything to go home, to live.
We waited, and although I'd had plenty of reason to doubt my actions, our lead gone with one angry swipe of my glasses, my actions paid off like I'd hoped they would.
"Okay, okay," he sniveled. "I'll tell you what I know, but you gotta promise not to kill me. I'm not like him, I swear I'm not. I got into this and now I can't leave. Couldn't. But I promise, if you let me live I'll never deal another vial. I swear. You have to believe me."
I raised a hand to stop him blabbering. It was annoying and I was in no mood for any of this nonsense. He made his decision, he was responsible for the deaths of more people than I would ever be in his own way. Maybe only a tiny part of the problem, but he was guilty nonetheless.
"Tell us what you know and we'll think about it," I told him.
"No way, man, you gotta promise you guys won't kill me. I'm just a dealer, I don't make this stuff. But I know who does, where it comes from. We didn't want to have to deal with this dude," he indicated the corpse like we didn't know who he meant, "so we tracked him, but when we found out who he dealt with we bottled it. We still made good money and it wasn't worth the risk, but still, I know."
"Then get with the telling. I'm bored." I put a hand to the arm of my shades. Hanna yawned, then stretched out her arms and cricked her back. I think he was more scared of her than of me. Hanna can have that effect on you when she wants.
He talked, he told us everything he knew. It was worse than I'd imagined, or maybe worse than I'd wanted it to be even though I knew this could never lead us anywhere good.
When he'd finished telling us everything, Hanna smiled as she walked over to him. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed then smiled at her as he turned his head. Hanna bent, sweet smile on her face, then grabbed his head, twisted sharply, and broke his neck. His head thudded onto the table, dead as the headless corpse opposite.
"Did you have to do that?" I sighed.
"No, but he deserved it."
I cut the oil line to the boiler, let the fuel spread across the kitchen floor, then lit a match and dropped it at the doorway. The room whooshed into warmth and bright light as we walked down the hallway. I closed the door behind us.
From a safe distance, we watched the house burn for a few minutes. An orange glow danced across Hanna's pale, beautiful features.
"Hey, I keep meaning to ask, but when did you first show up? Be part of the team?"
"Oh, ages ago," said Hanna. "Why?"
"Dunno, I just keep thinking about it. I can't quite remember. It's like I used to know, now I don't."
"It was, well, it was back when… Haha, who knows, it was so long ago." Hanna shifted to stare at the fire, but she was being vague on purpose, I knew it.
The thought kept coming to me, but it never seemed the right time to ask. It felt like she'd always been around, but that couldn't have been the case. Why was this bugging me so much now?
"My kind are mysterious, Spencer. You know that. You saved me, I saved you. Buddies, right?"
"Of course. Buddies. So you admit to being an angel then? Is that it? Some kind of angel secret stuff?"
"I didn't say that," she said with a smile and a wink. "Come on, I'm bored."
"Let's go home, check in on the others," I told her.
"And have lunch. I'm starving." Her stomach rumbled.
God forgive me, so did mine.
Lunch Time!
Hanna and I sang loudly to eighties chart hits on a dodgy radio channel as we sped through the countryside and back into town. It's not that I felt particularly happy, I was kinda beginning to feel bad, but it was a distraction, a release of tension, and if I'm honest it simply stopped me thinking about what had gone down. Plus, I had to do something to drown out her caterwauls. Hanna was many things, certainly a diva, but she definitely couldn't hold a note.
We arrived back in good time, and it wasn't long before the others joined us.
With strong tea and plenty of sugar added, plus a veritable mountain of assorted butties devoured in record time, we told our tales and shook our heads at the downright stupidity, not to mention vileness, of the human race.
Seemed like Hanna and I had a mild time of it in comparison. I soon understood why the cats were looking so round of belly. I shivered at the thought of being eaten alive by magical panthers while questions were shouted at me and then I was left to be eaten anyway even after I'd given up the intel. But that's exactly what had happened to some middlemen they'd tracked down thanks to Aunty and her determination to see this thing through to the end.
