Roundtable nights, p.12
Roundtable Nights, page 12
Sloane led the way to an empty holding cell, ushering me inside.
“Let them in,” Sloane shouted as she moved to the back corner of the cell. “Pull the doors shut before the others can get through!”
As the first vampires reached us, crowding through the opening, I slammed the barred door closed. The cops-turned-vampires didn’t even notice. They were focused on one thing—Sloane. Apparently, the mare’s directive wasn’t bound to the originals. The “turned” were equally hungry for detective.
With several vampires now locked in the cell, Sloane grabbed the rosary from her pocket. She held it up and the turned cops recoiled, pressing themselves against the back wall with pained cries.
“It’s working!” Sloane shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”
I hurried back to Sloane and spun another portal. We’d locked up six cops-turned-vamps total. Ernie was among them—for better or for worse. That was six lives we’d maybe saved in the event we couldn’t kill the mare before sunrise. But that still had to be our priority—because there were more infected cops in the station who’d all die if they stepped out into daylight.
The portal spat us back near the front desk. All the vampires were deeper inside, they’d chased us to the cell block.
“We need to try and lure them outside,” I whispered. “It’s the only way to give anyone who’s still human in there a fighting chance.”
Sloane leaned over the front desk and pressed a button on the intercom.
“Attention bloodsuckers!” Her voice echoed through the entire station. “I’m by the front entrance, headed out into the streets. Come and get it!”
Sloane flashed me a wicked grin as we burst through the front doors. The cool night air washed over us, and for a moment I thought we were free.
Then the swarm descended. Vampires streamed from every window and door, a tornado of claws and fangs swirling toward us. But as their feet left the station floors, the bloodsuckers began to transform, their bodies twisting grotesquely as leathery wings burst from their backs. Within seconds, the mob had become a swarm of bats, surging our direction.
I gaped at the undulating black cloud. “Seriously? They turn into bats now?”
“Vampires do that, right? I thought everyone knew that.”
“You didn’t know about wooden stakes!” I cried. “How do you remember the bat thing and not the stakes?”
Sloane shrugged. “Forgive me for not brushing up on vampire lore in my spare time. Any chance you can zap us out of here?”
I spun my staff, forming a tornado of energy. But this spinner wasn’t bound for the Land of Oz. It took us back to the DDA.
It wouldn’t take long before the vampire-bats reached us. I wasn’t sure how they’d tracked Sloane to the police department, but something about how the mare birthed these monsters from a person’s mind, seemed to give them a connection to the host’s mind. And now that we knew the vampires could fly, we had minutes at most to figure out our next move.
The End of Part Two
INTERLUDES II
Ned ◈ Stone ◈ Emilie
I.2.1 Nedley
The mob of angry vegans swarmed towards me like an avalanche of hemp and patchouli. I bolted down the alley, vaulting trash cans and squeezing between dumpsters, trying to lose the horde of tofu-munchers.
“C’mon fellas, can’t we talk about this over some boba tea?” I quipped, glancing back at the seething mass. A carrot whizzed past my ear. Guess not. Never seen anyone throw a vegetable like that. Guess it was my own fault. I dreamed up this malarkey.
If they started throwing kale, though, it would be on. Can’t tolerate that shit.
I darted out onto Oak Street. My plan was to circle the block, get a little space, and get back to my jeep. These things might be born from nightmares, thus a little more than human, but there’s no way they’d be able to run fast enough to keep up if I was driving.
I mean, they don’t even eat red meat. How could they possibly keep up? Eating vegan might give you the runs fast. But fast running ain’t happening. Some people say it ain’t true. They think you can be just as vigorous with squash and romaine as you might be with steak and a Miller Lite.
But these monsters were creations of my mind. My rules were all that mattered.
Sliding around a corner, I grabbed a trash can lid and flung it Frisbee-style into the crowd. Vegans scattered as it clanged through them. “Strike!” I whooped.
My moment of triumph was short-lived. More were pouring from the alleyways, their eyes blazing with self-righteous fury.
I poured on the speed, sprinting for the next turn. My lungs were burning now and my legs felt like overcooked linguini. I needed a beer. Breakfast of champions.
I careened around the corner, nearly wiping out on the pavement. There was my trusty jeep. I flung open the door, cranked the engine, and stomped the gas pedal. The jeep roared to life just as the first wave of vegans reached me. Fists slammed down on the hood and angry faces leered through the windows as I peeled out.
“Hope you don’t mind if I don’t stop for pedestrians!” I shouted out the window. “But hey, look on the bright side. At least you’ll die with really clean colonoscopies!”
I cackled maniacally as the jeep fishtailed onto the highway. The vegans pursued, sprinting down the shoulder and hurling more vegetables. But soon I left them far behind.
I blared some Skynyrd and headed for the hills. Time to get off-road where I’d have the home turf advantage. Once I hit the woods, these hippie nightmares wouldn’t stand a chance.
Then I thought, what if they could drive? What if they were tailing me? A stupid thought, right? Nightmares can’t get a damn license, much less an auto-loan. Seriously. If that damn dealership gave a loan to a materialized vegan nightmare, but turned me down—again—we were going to have words.
Stupid thought. But no sooner did I think it, and I spotted a Prius in my rearview mirror. “Damn it! How the hell?”
Apparently, that damn mare could make more than flesh. Whatever I imagined in my dream, the fucker could bring to life. Including those fuel efficient coffins on wheels.
Before I knew it, it wasn’t just one Prius. There were two, then three. A whole freaking caravan with a collective carbon footprint the size of my big toe.
I stayed just ahead, putting as much distance between us and the city as I could. Once I reached the woods, they’d never stand a chance.
I finally swerved onto a rutted dirt road, my tires spewing plumes of dust into the air. No way a Prius could handle a road like this, I figured. It gave me a little time to set a few traps in the woods before my stalkers caught up.
I slammed on the brakes and leapt out, grabbing a duffel of supplies. A small shovel, one of those you could fold up and keep with you. Always good to have one in case you’re driving somewhere and gotta shit. Cuz I sure as hell ain’t gonna use one of those gas station commodes.
My brain was already scheming. What could I do? What kind of traps could I set? The same shit I’d use to catch a squatch! But did I have the time to set them up? Probably. Funny thing about vegans like that. They claim to be all about plants. They love them some earth. But get them out of their asphalt and steel environment, take them out to the wild, and they don’t know shit.
I lashed some vines across the path behind me. Good for tripping. I managed to find a favorable gap between some rocks with a good drop to the ground below. I covered it with some leaves and sticks.
I had to keep moving. I didn’t have time for any really complicated traps. But anything that slowed them down was good enough. If I planned this right, I could get them all lost in the woods, find my way back to my jeep, and leave them wandering around like they were hunting snipe.
As I trudged deeper into the woods, I couldn’t help but admire my own genius. These vegans thought they could chase me down, but I was one step ahead the entire time. I chuckled to myself, feeling more alive than I had in years. Sure, I might be a little out of shape after being stuck in my mom’s basement all these years, but I never lost my touch when it came to survival.
As I neared a clearing, I spotted a perfect spot to set my next trap. It was a small ravine, the perfect opportunity for a little “misplaced step.” I grabbed a few sturdy branches and arranged them to form a false step just a few inches from the real one. The landing would be a foot drop, just enough to jolt the unsuspecting vegan and buy me a few seconds.
With my trap set, I continued deeper into the woods, scanning the dense foliage for any signs of my pursuers. I moved with purpose, knowing that every ticking second counted.
As I darted through the underbrush, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of kinship with the creatures I was trying to elude. They were like my brain babies, after all. I was running for my life from my own subconscious.
Why was I even afraid? What had a vegan ever done to me other than leave more steaks and hams for me to eat? If they want to deprive themselves, that’s their choice. But if they thought for a second they really loved the environment better than me, well, they needed to take a hard ass look at how much carbon it takes to ship the ingredients for all their green drinks, their ginseng and ashwagandha, to their local supermarket.
Only way to be green, if you ask me, is to drink too much beer and wait for your gut to turn the next day.
Most of the time, everyone else, unless they’re actually growing their own food and working their own damn gardens, isn’t doing as much to save the world as they think. Get out of the cities. Get into nature. Enjoy the woods. Hunt a squatch or two.
Nothing gives you more appreciation for the great outdoors than that. But what do I know? I’m just a simple-minded man trying to do my part to keep the hops and barley growers in business.
And every now and again, I like to show my support to the local dispensary. I’m all about going green.
I pushed through the thick brush, my heart pounding in my chest as I listened for any sounds of pursuit. The woods closed in around me, the shadows dancing ominously as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down; those vegans were relentless, and the mare’s influence was growing stronger by the minute.
As I navigated through the tangle of trees and shrubs, a sudden rustling behind me made me freeze in my tracks. I spun around, ready to face my pursuers, only to find... nothing. Just the quiet whisper of leaves in the wind.
I shook my head, chiding myself for being so jumpy. Nedley Mandigo wasn’t afraid of a bunch of vegans, no matter how riled up they were by that cursed mare. I was a man of action, a hunter at heart. And they weren’t even human. They were all made up in my stupid dreams.
“Just a dream,” I told myself. “Can a dream really hurt you?”
With a mare involved, and some dark hoodoo magic or whatever it was that it was using, it sure can. I didn’t know if my traps had worked or not. But so far, no sign of them.
Just as I was considering making a break for my jeep, my phone dinged with a news alert. I skidded to a stop and checked it, heart sinking as I read the headline.
“Breaking: Attack at the St. Louis Police Department.”
The details were vague, but I knew in my gut it had something to do with Sloane. Did those vamps find her there? She must be in real trouble. I swore under my breath, glaring around at the woods. I couldn’t keep playing these games, not with Sloane’s life at stake.
If I left the vegans wandering the woods, they’d be lost for hours, more than likely. Long enough that I might be able to help.
Shoving the phone in my pocket, I changed course, sprinting through the trees toward where I’d left my jeep.
I wasn’t as lucky as I thought. A chorus of protests about how veggies beat meat startled my attention. Total crap. I never once beat my meat with veggies. Nothing about a rutabaga turned me on enough to consider it.
All it took was one of them to spot me before the entire horde lumbered after me. Idiots. Like I’d waste another minute on their sorry butts.
Vaulting a fallen log, I burst from the treeline back onto the dirt road by my jeep. I slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life and I peeled out, spraying gravel as I left those hippie freaks in the dust. I’d lost them for now, but I wasn’t about to relax.
I passed a few Priuses stuck on the dirt road. I didn’t know how they got those cars to begin with, but unless the mare was manufacturing more of them, they weren’t getting away anytime soon.
“This is more ridiculous than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin’ contest,” I told myself. . And no sooner did I say it and the damn Priuses, high-bottomed on the dirt road, disappeared completely. Like they were never there.
“Well, I’ll be!” I exclaimed. “How’d I done do that?”
My mind raced as I sped down the highway. I had to get back and help Sloane and Elijah, but how? Surely the mare had cooked up more chaos overnight. Lots of sleepers. Plenty of dreams. That meant monsters a plenty.
Did the rest of the vegans disappear with their cars? Had I really done them in with just a little jest? Or had Elijah killed the mare responsible? I wasn’t sure the right answer, but I had to get back to them. Because maybe, just maybe, Nedley Mandigo had stumbled onto the answer.
I.2.2 Stone
The door to the abandoned house creaked open, and I stepped inside, the familiar mildew stench assaulting my nostrils. Cory, the rookie acolyte, hovered at my heels like a nervous puppy. He wasn’t that unlike a new beat cop just out of the academy. I knew how to handle him.
“Get it together, kid. Can’t have Blackwood sensing any weakness,” I muttered.
Cory nodded, eyes wide. I stifled a sigh. The poor bastard had no clue what he’d gotten himself into—but when we succeeded, he’d receive untold rewards from Mordred’s hand.
We found Blackwood in the basement, humming a cheerful tune as he scribbled notes by candlelight. The damn ether-infused mare shrieked from its cage in the corner, rattling the bars. My trigger finger twitched, longing to put a bullet between its creepy black eyes. These creatures were necessary—but that didn’t mean I had to like them.
“Evening, gentlemen!” Blackwood said, beaming. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I clenched my fists. “Cut the crap. You know why we’re here.”
Blackwood raised an eyebrow. “No need for hostility, Chief Stone. We’re all friends here.”
“My friends don’t send vampires to slaughter my officers.”
Blackwood tutted. “Collateral damage. All for the greater good, as you know.”
“There had to be another way,” I said through gritted teeth. “I told you I would handle Harding!”
Blackwood’s eyes hardened. “I did what was necessary to remove Detective Harding from the equation. Your feelings for her have clouded your judgment.”
My face grew hot. I opened my mouth to protest, but Blackwood cut me off.
“Hard decisions must be made. When our work is complete, it will all be for the best.”
I clenched my jaw, biting back a retort. Blackwood was right—my judgment had been compromised where Harding was concerned. I’d hesitated to suspend her from the force, even after he’d ordered it done. But in the end, I wasn’t wrong. All that did was send her straight to that damned druid, and they ended up working together more closely after I released her than before.
“You’re right,” I ground out. “But we could have dealt with Sloane another way.”
Blackwood nodded. “We could have. But I couldn’t risk it. We’re too close now to fail, and she was on the verge of figuring out our plans. She has proven more...resilient than anticipated.”
He steepled his fingers, regarding me shrewdly. “I know your history with the detective makes this difficult. But you must not let sentimentality hinder our work again. Too much depends on the success of our endeavors.”
I stared at the floor, chastened. He was right. I had to separate my feelings from the mission.
“Yes, sir,” I breathed. “You have my word it won’t happen again. I’ll do whatever it takes to further our cause.”
Blackwood clapped me on the shoulder. “Excellent. Your loyalty and dedication will be richly rewarded, my friend.” His eyes glittered. “Soon, Mordred shall walk among us again. And then, we’ll help him finish his plan. Only this time, his success is certain.”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. There was still doubt gnawing at me, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.
“I just hope Mordred can really do all you say,” I said carefully. “Remake the world, erase the evils we’ve done...seems almost too good to be true.”
Blackwood arched an eyebrow. “You question our lord’s plan?” His tone was mild, but there was an edge to it.
I held up my hands quickly. “No, no, of course not.” I just wished I shared his unwavering conviction. But I supposed true faith was never easy.
“This is merely a test of our devotion,” Blackwood said smoothly. “What greater test is there than to do the greatest of evil in our lord’s service? For we must believe that when Mordred returns to his throne of old, and the world he remakes follows suit, no sin will have ever been committed in his service. Even those who died to bring about his return will live as if they had never died at all. The slate shall be wiped clean.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, his gaze boring into mine. “You must trust, Clayton. Great change is coming. But first, we must see our duty through to the bitter end.”
I lowered my head deferentially. “You’re right. Forgive my doubt.”
Blackwood smiled. “Think nothing of it. You are devoted, just as I am. Soon, our faith shall be rewarded.”
I nodded, pushing aside my lingering reservations. I had come too far to falter now. The police department massacre haunted me, but if Blackwood was correct, it would soon cease to exist.
We only needed to stay the course. Keep faith in Mordred’s power. And then all would be made new.
