Tomorrow's Dead: The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles, page 2
On to positive news. Our campaign to lure vampires from other cities is coming to fruition. The deal is for them to bring at least three humans or children in exchange for Los Angeles citizenship and a decent place to stay.
Morales started a hospital at the Biltmore Hotel where most of the old timers are living, including me. He’s also training volunteers to care for wounds, infections, rotten teeth, and what have you of every willing human Downtown. You know how Morales is. He’s still T-Doc to everyone. He and Joseph (with help from Habib and Passionada) devote much time to raising little Piper despite their harrowing jobs. Joseph (who says hello by the way) is in charge of distributing Plasmacore and propaganda leaflets to other cities with Rufus who flies him everywhere. Michelle is in charge of security, and even hard-edged vamps fear her. They consider her your protégé.
I’m sure Maclemar can fill you in if you have any questions about our friends. For now I must ask you to keep an open mind.
We get an exodus of both vampires and humans to our city expecting a new, safer life. Because of nearly two decades of heinous vampire acts, trust is of course close to non-existent on the human side. You have become almost a legendary symbol for the humans, a Joan of Arc. You’ve never been bitten or turned into a blood slave. You have destroyed the most powerful vampires and freed hundreds of human cattle. We need someone like you to help keep the people calm while we organize the city into a safer, habitable, more productive place.
We need your expertise to forge a new world where Piper can be safe and prejudice is curtailed by respect and understanding. I know, dear Julia, that you think I’m nothing but a sentimentalist and a follower of lost causes. Perhaps you’re right, but these are strange days. If we could fix things now and make it better for the next ten years, then all the suffering and sacrifice would be worth it.
Please consider my request. I am out of ideas. I want the powder keg to be stoppered. I believe you can help me.
With much love,
Kaleb
Poe crumpled the letter and threw it in the fireplace. Temporary solace came to her when the fire consumed the thin pieces of paper. Kaleb was asking too much of her. Didn’t she deserve to be left alone after all she’d done? She simply wanted to stay on the island and watch bison for the rest of her life. Was that too much to ask?
“You know what’s in the letter?” she asked a pensive Maclemar.
“Yes. He asked me to read it.”
“Well it’s a bullshit long-winded letter, my friend. I deserve this retirement.”
“Lots of people deserve peace, Poe,” he said quietly.
“Well I was fodder for Trench and his vampire pals after my back was whipped. They fed on my blood like caviar. That ought to be payment enough.”
“My flesh was cut and my blood drunk,” answered Maclemar. He became human sushi when vampires found out they could partake of his blood without turning the Welshman into catatonic blood cattle.
Poe banged on the wooden table with her fist. “What is this, a goddamn competition? I was sexually tortured then shot in the heart for fuck’s sake!”
“No one’s questioning that, love. We just need help on the mainland. Badly.”
“Forget it. Downtown is a bad memory. My parents, brother, sister, Goss, and Sister Ann all died there. I was mistreated. I hate that miserable place!” she spat. “In any case it would be stupid to suddenly make an appearance when I can’t shoot worth shit and I’m afraid of everyone. Of being abducted again. And how dare Sainvire bring Piper into the picture? The son of a bitch knows I feel guilty enough for neglecting her.”
Maclemar kneeled in front of Poe’s chair and took her hand. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”
“But you’ll think badly of me,” she said, her brown eyes studying his emerald ones.
“Never,” he said. He kissed her hands. Whatever you do, I’ll always be proud of you. You’re my best friend and the person I love the most in this fuckall world.”
***
She heard Maclemar lightly snoring in the next room. After putting the world’s ills on her shoulders once more, Sainvire had wrecked her sense of peace. How could she go back when people knew what happened to her in Quillon Trench’s hands? She may have killed Trench, but not before he had debilitated her with the worst form of humiliation.
Penny snorted in her sleep, and Poe combed her coarse firecracker fur. The dog must have been about 15 or 16 years old. She didn’t really know. Maybe I should go back Downtown just to be near Morales in case Penny gets sick. She slapped her forehead for even thinking about returning. I don’t owe anyone anything! Carefully she lifted the blanket and snuck out of bed in her Keroppi pajamas. Barefoot, Poe padded into Maclemar’s room.
Her friend’s left arm draped off the bed. He was shirtless. For the briefest moment Poe felt desire, but it was quickly quelled by unpleasant memories. She slid in bed with Maclemar and used his extended arm as a pillow. She hugged him under the blanket and thought about how she couldn’t live without him.
“Hey, Caveman,” she said out loud, shaking him when he wouldn’t budge. The man was a heavy sleeper. She had nearly been picked apart by Revenents because Maclemar was too busy snoring below the deck of his boat. “Wake up!”
Confused and disoriented, Maclemar’s eyes opened wide. “Huh? What?”
“I need to talk to you, James,” said Poe, plucking a chest hair near his nipple.
“Ouch!” he yelled. “Then talk!”
“Geez, you’re not even grateful that I’m sharing your bed.”
Maclemar realized this was so and smiled his approval. “Come to think of it, I’m very grateful.” He kissed her forehead.
“Don’t pester me. I just can’t sleep, and I want to be held tonight.”
“Fine with me, love,” he said in half-brogue. He laid his big hand on her flat belly.
Poe scratched the hairs on his chest distractedly. He smelled salty like the sea. The man was mad about boating, and she knew that if she’d asked him to stay with her on the island, he would. Of course he’d regret it eventually for forsaking all those children who needed educating.
“What should I do?”
Maclemar sighed. “I can’t answer that for you, love. It wouldn’t be fair to you or me.”
Knowing her friend was right, Poe remained silent. The choice had to be hers alone. “Sorry for putting pressure on you, bub, but I’m feeling like shit right now.” Before he could say something, Poe continued. “My confidence is gone, James. I have the shakes, and the thought of being around vampires scares the shit out of me. The way I see it, Kaleb wants me to be a propaganda piece. The human to his vampire. And to tell you the truth I haven’t quite got the Queen Elizabeth wave down. I’m not ready for my close-up.”
Maclemar hugged her closer. “We’ll all be there for you. You won’t be standing alone on the throne. We want this new society to succeed.”
Poe’s throaty laugh aroused Maclemar more than a little. “You’ve given your opinion quite clearly, my friend. You want me to be a showpiece, too.”
“That’s not—” Before he could say another word, Poe laid her cheek on his chest. “No matter, chum. All’s good. I’m not going because it doesn’t feel right.”
“Then you should stay on the island, and I promise to visit every weekend,” he said with a light voice. Poe knew how hard it was for Maclemar to appear cheerful.
“I love you, Maclemar.”
“I love you, too, sharren.”
Poe listened to Maclemar’s heartbeat all night long. Even his shallow breathing couldn’t lull her to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
MACLEMAR BOLTED UPRIGHT. SLEEP left his state of mind damn quickly. He reached for the six-shooter on his bedstand and quickly slid his feet into his New Balance shoes. In his dark-blue boxers he scurried outside the cabin.
“Poe,” he said with fear. The woman who had held him all night was not in bed. “Be alright, please.”
Thunderous gunshots continued to disturb the silence of the morning. He realized somebody must have followed him to the island, and he stupidly led the culprit to the one woman he needed to keep alive.
His heart dropped when he saw Poe crouching on the ground as if in pain. Maclemar clutched his gun as he stiffly tried to spot the enemy.
“Oh. Hey, Maclemar,” said Poe. She was bent over, picking up bullets from the moist ground. She’d been refilling magazines when she clumsily spilled bullets. “Sorry about the noise. I couldn’t wait for you to wake up.”
Maclemar lowered his gun while breathing erratically. “You fired the shots! I could kill you for nearly giving me a stroke! What the hell are you doing?”
“I should ask you that,” she said with a snort. “You’re in your underwear, and it’s cold.”
“I thought you were getting murdered,” he said. Maclemar was feeling the bite of island winter weather.
“In a way I was. Take a look at my target.” She gestured to the full-size poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger appearing fierce in Commando stapled on a chunky tree and frowned. Out of two rounds she’d managed to shoot the lower edges of the poster. Not one hit.
“Ah, sharren. You just need to work on your aim,” he said encouragingly. “I myself couldn’t shoot worth shite, but I worked on it. Now I’m a little better than before.”
Poe squinted at Maclemar’s Dirty Harry gun and shook her head. “What did I tell you about heavy, antiquated six-shooters like that, Maclemar? That gun is hella slow to load, and it’s gonna get me killed if you’re going to be my bodyguard. I swear, between you and Morales—”
“This gun is tops. And Morales did give it to me. Don’t you start that again,” he said with a shudder. “Now about the bodyguard remark, does this mean you’re coming back with me?”
“If you don’t mind a useless girl who lost her spirit and would probably never sleep with you,” she said in all seriousness.
“Fine with that, sweetheart,” he shrugged. “As long as there’s ‘probably’ then there’s hope. Now mosey on back to the cottage before my only asset freezes over and falls off.”
“Right. Plus I’m going to need you to chop my hair off. Can’t look fierce with long, girly hair.”
CHAPTER 3
MACLEMAR WANTED TO LIE down and die during the grueling session cutting Poe’s thick hair to a more manageable shoulder length.
“I can’t believe you had me desecrate your beautiful hair,” he said. He brushed away hair trimmings from her neck.
“It’s only hair. It’ll grow back,” she grunted. She couldn’t help her insecure mind and a moment later asked, “Do I look awful?”
“Nope. You look snappy, but I’d gotten used to your lustrous hair.” The way Maclemar gave his answer earned him a punch in the gut.
“Ouch! What do you care anyway? You’re going to pull your hair into a ponytail after I finish brushing.” And indeed, Poe took a hair band from her wrist and tied up her hair.
“I’m ready to go now,” said Poe. She got up from the chair and pinched Maclemar’s cheek. “Gracias.” She stuffed another pair of sweater in her pack and slung it over a shoulder.
“Sure you’re not forgetting anything?”
“Only my sanity.”
A metal barrel crashed through the bay windows of the cabin, causing all three inhabitants to jump out of their skin. Penny began running in circles like a mad dog. Poe reached for the pair of Blackhawks in her shoulder holster, and Maclemar fished in his jacket for his six-shooter.
“Hell on earth! I think I was followed, sharren,” whispered Maclemar.
“Well that’s not your fault.” Poe resheathed one of her guns and went through the closet in the hall. She picked up an angular machete she’d forged in one of her pathetic attempts at swordsmithing.
She checked her wrist knives and exhaled a breath just in time for a Molotov cocktail to splatter the west wall.
Maclemar grabbed Penny and kicked open the back door to the mini-garden. “C’mon, Poe! The cabin’s burning!” Poe didn’t have to be told twice and secured her pack on her shoulder while blinking the smoke from her eyes. She followed Maclemar outside, and both coughed from the acrid smoke.
They hovered three feet in the air.
A rather chubby undead in green plaid under a medieval-looking tunic with a red cross on the front stared Poe down. Her companion, a haggard brunette with thinning hair and the same type of gray tunic sized her up.
“Sally and Bette,” hissed Maclemar. “What the hell?”
Sally, the big-boned grunge Generation X-er spoke clearly so there would be no mistaking her motive. “She stays on this island or she dies.”
Bette smiled and said, “This morning we saw she can’t shoot worth shit. She’s no match for us.”
Maclemar put Penny down. “Your politics are Downtown,” he snarled at the two sun-immune vamps. “You have no jurisdiction on this island.”
“There’s only the two of you,” said Bette, swiping her thin hair back. “And an old dog that’s dying as we speak.” She laughed as if she’d told a joke to die for.
Poe who had been silent narrowed her eyes. “Don’t talk about my dog that way. Tell them how sensitive I am about Penny, Maclemar.”
The Welshman stared at Poe, who seemed the perfect model of concentration, and shrugged off his fear. “She’s bloody sensitive when it comes to her dog, ladies. Don’t make her angrier than she is right now. He watched Penny, her sinewy body taut as she stood bravely by Poe.
“Or else she’s going to shoot us and miss?” said Sally. Bette joined her in laughing at Maclemar’s words.
Poe spun her .45 with her index finger like Clint Eastwood in The Man with No Name Trilogy. The muzzle pointed at Bette when the spinning ended. The vampire was as shocked as her companion. “Let’s find out, why don’t we?” said Poe, too calmly acting the cowboy.
“You’re a fraud, Julia Poe,” Bette said and flew at Poe. The ex-vampire executioner shot at the undead who suddenly hovered above. She missed. A raging Bette pried her gun from her fingers and threw it to the ground. She lifted Poe by the back of her neck. “Your shooting days are over, and we know this now.”
Poe turned from the visage of the angry vampire. “Could you quit talking that close? Your breath kills.”
Bette eked out her dissatisfaction and prepared to hurl Poe to the trees. But Poe took her by surprise, seizing the vampire’s neck, burying her garlic-oiled wrist knife in her throat, and cutting open her neck like the lid of a can of beans. Poe fell from the air with a thud but quickly rolled to her feet before Bette’s dead body could flatten her.
“Next!” she said as Sally’s eyes became slits.
“You shit! I’ll kill you for this,” Sally said as she looked at her friend’s lacerated neck.
Poe walked to her pack and unearthed her crappy sword, slick with garlic oil, one of the few things vampires were allergic to. “Let’s go then.” Penny suddenly ran toward the vampire while Maclemar raised his pistol.
Sally hissed at the goofy weapon and Poe’s pathetic friends and lunged at the girl. Like a boomerang, Poe hurled the machete at Sally before dog or bullet could beat her to it. The triangle-tipped sword slashed at the heavy vampire’s right thigh. The vamp, an undead for less than a year, screamed and pulled at the weapon. Once it was dislodged and dropped, Sally took to the air, wailing like a banshee.
“Those guys aren’t L.A. vampires, are they?” asked Poe tightly. “They were pure amateur league.” She patted Penny on the head.
“In a sense, they are,” answered Maclemar. “They’re ex-blood cattle who chose to become vampires. They call themselves Tunics.”
“And they don’t want me on the mainland because?”
“Because you can show friendship between vampires and humans is possible.” Maclemar hugged Poe and kissed her on the head. “I thought you said you couldn’t hit anything anymore?”
Poe grinned. “I said I was a worthless shot, but my knife skills and Bruce Lee moves are still a-ok.”
***
After a choppy voyage on a retooled Chameleon, Maclemar secured the lovingly maintained boat to the San Pedro dock. He led Poe and Penny to the four-story parking structure where his carefully restored 1985 Ducati 600 TL was tucked away.
“What in the world, Maclemar!” complained Poe boisterously. “How the hell are the three of us plus my giant backpack going to fit on your antique motorcycle?”
Maclemar cleared his throat. “I left Penny out of the equation, but she can sit up here with me. I won’t go so fast.”
Poe wore a black hooded waterproof coat which cut made her look taller and slimmer. Beneath she had on a plain black American Apparel t-shirt, snug black jeans, and high-top Converse shoes. To Maclemar, Poe looked like a fresh-faced teenager not quite ready to face the real world.
“If you drop her, I swear, I’ll snap your neck,” she said in a frustrated voice. “She’s my prized friend, you know.”
“Aye. I know, sweetheart. That’s why I would never do anything to the pooch.” He watched Poe fiddle with her wrist knives and secure her guns in the shoulder holsters hidden by her coat. The bent machete hung from her bulky backpack. The engine sprang to life like a brand new motorcycle. “Hand Penny to me.” The dog whimpered when Poe deposited her on Maclemar’s lap. “Now, Penny, be still, won’t you? I promise not to let anything happen to you.”
“Pen, stay put, okay?” ordered Poe. She kissed the mutt on the head and climbed to the back of Maclemar, and her travel backpack containing her only possessions weighed on her shoulders.
The little hairs on the back of her neck warned her that something was wrong. She shivered as she scanned the garage that was chiefly in the shadows. You’re imagining things, Julia Poe, she chided herself. You haven’t been to L.A. in over a year, and you’re all nerves. You’ve got to cool it.
