Chapter 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

“This is surprisingly practical.”

Zane descended the steps of the apartment with his duffel, apparently surprised I was able to get a car for the trip. The sedan wasn’t anything remarkable, but it was reliable, low profile and had plates on it that made the whole thing seem on the up and up.

Since I wasn’t exactly someone with a government presence in any sort of positive way, it made renting a car legally impossible. Instead, I went to Criminals R’ Us and bought a reasonably priced, stolen but seemingly legal, vehicle for our needs. This particular model was a ten-year-old four-door with working heat, working wheels and no visible reason for any officer to pull us over.

It was perfect.

“I can be a practical man when the need arises,” I tossed back at the vampire. “We have a two-day drive ahead and we have to pass through some rural areas. I don’t need bored cops chasing us down for a cracked windshield.”

“I half expected a sports car with more muscle than trunk space.” Zane tossed his duffel into the open trunk.

“That’s not what we need for a trip like this.”

“Uh-huh. They just didn’t have any, did they?” I flipped him off as an answer, so he added, “That’s what I thought.”

“Keep it up, and you’re riding in the trunk.”

“I doubt he’d have room,” Barnaby announced as he strolled over, dressed for the day in an honest-to-God sweater vest and tie, looking like he was about to teach middle grade English. The man’s sense of fashion, somehow being both outdated and posh, wasn’t the most out of place thing about him. That was the off-white and beige suitcase he was carrying.

“Uh,” I managed just as he tossed his suitcase into the trunk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“That’s as light as I can pack.”

“That’s great.” I rounded the car and pulled the suitcase back out. “But you’re not going with us.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.” I held the suitcase out to him. “I asked you to check the book, not tag along.”

“You need me, Dallas. I can translate the mural. I stayed up last night figuring it out.”

“You’re not going with us to a necromancer cemetery, Barnaby.” I set the suitcase on the ground when he refused to take it. “There’s guaranteed bad shit there. We’re going to go poke around in a tomb with depictions of a necromantic council on it. That’s literally a huge warning sign!”

“Good thing you know your way around necromancers then.” Barnaby lifted his expression like he was explaining something very obvious to me and picked his suitcase back up. “Unless of course you’ve been exaggerating your skills all this time.”

“Go to hell, Zane,” I told the vampire as he snickered. “Barns, the answer is no.”

“I disagree.”

“I don’t give a shit.” I blocked him from putting his suitcase back into the trunk. “You’re a liability.”

“I’m an asset, Dallas Wilde,” he countered with all the confidence only he could muster in this situation. “You need someone who speaks the language, who knows the culture and can guide you to the location of where this mausoleum is.” Barnaby moved his suitcase behind him when I tried to grab for it. “If you want the information, you have to bring me along.”

“Barns, I don’t want to have to pin you down, but I will.”

“If you try, I will blow my rape whistle. I swear to the Gods.”

As I weighed my options of how I was going to wrangle the book from Barnaby without him blasting an alert that I was trying to assault him—all the while, mind you, my fucking vampire bodyguard was just laughing and not helping —an additional pain in the ass appeared out of nowhere.

“Wilde.” My voice resounded with the boisterous authority of an officer.

“Goddamnit,” I sighed as I turned to try and appease whoever it was that I had now upset, sighing with almost relief to see the only two Demon Human Alliance and Protection officers that weren’t actively trying to arrest me for something. Preston Cheslock, human brick with a permanent scowl, and his nicer, jinn boyfriend / officer partner, Seyyid Ahmed, were sauntering over with an air of seriousness I didn’t care for.

I glanced to Zane, who they hadn’t officially met yet beyond him trying to super murder us a few months back, and motioned for him to get lost. Thankfully Zane didn’t feel the urge to argue or complicate things, so he vanished back up the stairs before they could piece together who he was.

“Bad timing, guys,” I told the pair. “I’m on my way out of town. Can this wait?”

“This is serious, Wilde,” Preston pressed. “There’s some weird shit going on and we need to talk to you about it.”

“You getting weird vampire urges again?” I asked Seyyid. “Because I don’t give refunds.”

“No,” Seyyid said, sounding a bit offended. “We found some vampires in the city recently. That’s why we asked you to contact us.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.” Preston stepped back into the conversation. “Another DHAP officer came across them.”

“He get bit?” I asked, to which both of them shook their heads. “They get away?” More head shakes. “Then what’s the problem? Sounds like the DHAP force did their job, protected the human and demon population of St. Athesall and saved the day. Where do I fit into this?”

“It’s not just that vampires were spotted in the city, Dallas. It’s how the officer described one of them.” Seyyid’s expression grew concerned, his silver eyes bright under his dark brows. “He said one was a jinn that had green eyes and spoke to him, which we know is a messenger vampire, but that’s not what freaked us out. He said it compelled him, like it could still harness its jinn abilities after turning.”

“When someone is turned into a vampire, any of their natural magic is gone,” I explained. “Necromancers can’t puppet a messenger vampire to use any magic that is biologically tied to the body. That part of them dies when they’re a vampire.”

Seyyid’s face didn’t relax, his posture still stiff with concern. “He said the vampire was able to nudge him with jinn powers, made him hesitate before he could fire his shot.”

“He was scared,” I said. “You guys don’t face vampires, and a lot of people think they’re extinct.”

“Dallas—”

“What you’re describing is impossible, Seyyid,” I added before he could continue. “Trust me. There is no way a vampire of any level can use demon abilities. Even the top-tier, super badass necromancers of yore couldn’t turn vampires into anything other than mindless sets of teeth. Otherwise, I would know about it.” I looked between the two officers, who exchanged looks of unsatisfied reluctance. “You sure your guy didn’t get bit? All the vampires were taken out?”

“He’s fine,” Preston said. “He was able to throw the two into the sunlight after putting some rounds into them. Seyyid and I inspected him for bites ourselves.”

“He’s a seasoned officer, Dallas. He’s not easily shaken,” Seyyid added softly. “If he said he felt compelled or persuaded, I believe him.”

“I promise you both, vampires cannot use magic. Full stop. I’ve been doing this for a long time, gone toe-to-toe with some gnarly vampires and necromancers. Zero demon magic involved, hand to the Saint.” I put my hand over my heart.

“I told you he’d be useless,” Preston grumbled, walking off like I was somehow being the asshole in this situation.

“What the hell is his deal?” I asked the more sensible of the two.

“He’s worried,” Seyyid explained. “We both are. Dallas, I believe you know what you’re talking about. You’re the expert. But this…doesn’t sit right with me. I can feel it. Something is wrong about all of this.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Seyyid.”

The jinn took a long breath, watching his partner who was brooding near the street before aiming his silver eyes at me again.

“If we call again, please answer. I hope we don’t need to.”

“Life’s been a little hectic lately.” And because I was a softy and a sucker I lamented, “I will. Go cheer up your bulldog.”

Seyyid gave me a friendly clap on the arm and went to go console his boyfriend, leaving me with an extra burden and a goddamn Barnaby strapped in my car. The prickly priss sat in the back seat with the seat belt fastened, a look of accomplished arrogance smeared over his pinched features.

I leaned down to glare at him through the open window. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Dallas Wilde.”

“If you get eaten by some random, scary dead thing that we will inevitably run into, don’t come crying to me afterward. Got it?” I waited until he looked at me before adding, “I’m only half joking, you know.”

“I have no doubt that whatever paranormal business that occurs at that graveyard will be promptly handled by you and Zane. I won’t get in the way.” He folded his hands into his lap. “Zane won’t let me get eaten, at least.”

“Yeah, well. He let me get bit by a vampire recently so I’d stay sharp.”

Barnaby narrowed his eyes at me, trying to feel out if I was joking, but I hopped up the stairs to my apartment before he could quiz me.

“Coast is clear, I chased away the cops.” I meandered over to my duffel, which was still tossed open from when I was packing. “I still can’t believe you bought that cat an automatic food dispenser. You could just pour a huge pile and she’d be fine.”

“She’s not a fish, hunter. She needs her food measured.” Zane recalibrated the other electronic device, which was in charge of cleaning her litter box. That one I didn’t mind as much because that kitten had some powerful poops. Said poop machine was following Zane around mewing pathetically, her naked tail shaking with excitement.

“Because fish have more self-control. Right, Kevin?” I placed my cute betta fish’s weekend pellet into his tank. Kevin peeked at me from his coconut shell with all the hatred I adored him for. “You’re so perfect.”

“Make sure you actually pack clothing and not just snacks and weapons,” Zane scolded from where he was lavishing treats onto his gremlin. “I’m going to be pissed if you make us stop at a store for socks again.”

“Hey, we pack for vampire killing differently. I prioritize undead killing machinery and you pack socks.” I gave Kevin some bloodworms for being so cute and got back to my duffel. “Barns locked himself in the car, by the way. So I guess he’s coming too.”

“He’ll be useful to have around.” Zane paused to give Twig a few kisses on her head, and I refused to acknowledge that it was precious. Refused. “Do we know if he can handle any weapons just in case?”

“I’ve seen him haul a giant wooden dick twice his size across a shop so, I’m guessing he’s at least competent with something long and blunt.” I threw some clothing into my duffel after shoving it to the brim with knives, ammo, my gun, some rose and blackthorn bombs for emergencies and my stash of chocolate-covered pretzels. If I couldn’t shoot them in time, I could at least throw a vampire repellent to make them scatter and then eat some snacks for a job well done.

As I shouldered my bag of goodies and some socks, I passed by Kevin’s tank to remind him not to murder the kitten, and to keep the apartment safe. I was decently sure the kitten would be fine, but the rest wasn’t promising.

Barnaby was still sitting like a defiant brat in the back seat as we dumped my bag into the trunk, only acknowledging our presence when I climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Wait. You’re driving?”

“Why do you assume my driving is something to be concerned about?” I adjusted the rearview to glare at him. “You’ve never been in a car with me.”

“I just have a feeling,” he said with about as much enthusiasm as a dead rock.

“You won’t die,” Zane promised, matching his energy. “Just develop some ulcers.”

“Fuck you both. I drive fine.” I rumbled the engine to life and bullied my phone into divulging the route to the cemetery. “Ungrateful jerks. This trip is two days long, and I’m being nice by doing the first leg of the trip.”

“It’ll be nice if we survive that long,” Barns mumbled, tightening his seat belt.

Despite the fact that both of the goons I was forced to ride with had zero faith in me, we made it out of the city unscathed. Was there a little road rage? Sure. Did I hop a curb at one point to avoid a traffic jam? That’s for a judge to decide.

But we made it out and onto the highway fine, our course set for the Silent Steps.

Being the wayward vampire hunter I was, this wasn’t the only time I had traveled outside of the city to track down some supernatural nastiness in order to vanquish some evil. St. Athesall was my home base because it was the jewel of modern civilization, and located as close to the center of the country as one could get. Everything worth seeing was only a few days away, including the ruins of the kingdoms that had once tried to rule over this sprawling landscape.

Demons constantly fought over this space for the resources and to further their empires, humans came in and spread religion all over the place, imps tried to mind their business and live their lives, and finally we all had a sit-down and figured it out. By sit-down, of course, I mean a big-ass war that crippled everyone involved, almost collapsed the economy and forced demons and humans to come to an understanding.

That understanding as that we could all come together in a capitalistic oligarchy pathetically veiled as democracy and stop waring so hard.

Yay politics!

St. Athesall was one of many big cities across the countryside, with lots of beautiful nothingness punctuated with pockets of suburbs and ruins. Relics of our turmoil were scattered all over, most now museums and fun tourist shops, since the last war fought was over a hundred years ago. Now the sites of death, murder and political intrigue had punny t-shirts and photo-ops set up for traveling guests making their way to an amusement park. The jinn palaces that once held a tight grip over the population stood in regal majesty, the sex demon metropolises had been restored as historical sites. Imps and onis didn’t bother to build shit here because this place was such a dumpster fire of fighting for so long, so all their cool shit was across the connecting continent with their own history.

The human stuff was mostly graveyards and churches, because we’re kinda bummers.

Then a few hours south of the city was a drag of farmland and rolling acres of nothing. The most exciting thing we passed was a tunnel that was carved through a cliff, but that was only fun for about ten minutes. The rest of the excitement came from arguing over what we could fill the silence with, which lead to us putting on a random radio station since we couldn’t agree on anything. Zane actually pitched talk radio, and I wanted to somehow divorce him as my bodyguard. At least Barns was suggesting music, even if his ideas were crap.

I flicked off the classic rock station once we pulled into the gas station, my body aching to move around and be fed. Zane stretched tall arms high, giving another cheeky peek at his stomach. Barnaby did some deep lunges like a maniac, and I argued with the gas pump for a few minutes.

“I’m going to get some food. Barns, you want anything?” I asked as I hung the gas pump back into its resting place.

“I brought snacks from home.” He fished out a plastic bag of makeshift trail mix that looked like it was crafted in the Neolithic era. “I have some caramel candies too if you want some.”

“How are you already a hundred years old?”

“Gas station food is terrible for you, Dallas,” he scolded. “And overpriced.”

“You are such an old man. Fine, keep your weird horse feed, I’m getting snacks.” I did a double take as Zane followed me into the simple roadside store. “You want to gander at all the food you can’t eat?”

“I’m running interference.”

“The hell does that mean?” I demanded, trying to make his head dent in with my mind when he ignored me. How I ended up with such annoying traveling companions, I had no idea. Maybe I crossed someone in a past life, or got cursed as a baby. Either way, I didn’t feel like the punishment matched the crime.

While Zane haunted the gas station convenience store, I got busy curating my snacks. It’s important to balance the sweet and salty when one is traveling long distances, so loading up on chips, jerky, nuts as well as a smattering of gummy and chocolate candy is an absolute must. Since I hadn’t eaten any real food since before we got on the road, I also decided to snag a coveted, delicious, well-balanced lunch of a hot dog drowning in chili.

Apparently, that was the line crossed for Zane.

The tongs for my dog extraction were torn from my grasp and placed back in the plastic holder, and I stood there with an empty bun in my hand and offense on my face.

“The fuck, Zane?”

“You’re not doing that.” He offered me a replacement food item, which was—I shit you not—a salad wrap.

Who in the Saint’s name tries to substitute the artery clogging, salt-soaked mystery meat tube with lettuce masquerading as something it wasn’t?

“Are you trying to get me to fight you right now?” I asked. “Is that what’s happening?”

“That’s going to destroy your stomach.”

“My stomach is made of iron. You’ve seen me eat way worse than a gas station hot dog, and I have never once chased you out of a room.”

“Mm-hm,” Zane hummed sarcastically. “Not while you’re awake.”

I wheeled on him, trying to summon some deep-rooted powers to shoot a hole through his head with my glare.

“ What ?”

“You fart in your sleep.”

“I do NOT?—”

“You do.” He interrupted me, forcing the salad wrap back into my hand. “For the sake of us having to sleep in a hotel room later, skip the hot dog.”

I heard the cashier near the front fail at hiding a snicker behind a cough.

“I’m going to kill you,” I promised him. “Full murder, Zane. You’re a double dead man.”

“That’s fine. Just no hot dogs.” He reached over and closed the plastic lid protecting the rotating meat tubes on their grill. He then left me standing there with a salad wrap in my hand and all my well-curated self-image turned into a fart cloud.

Silver lining, it did help me forget how I had been staring at his stomach only a few minutes earlier, because all I wanted to do at that point was punch him in the face.

I didn’t get the hot dog.