Lost Falls_Short Story_Blood Money Page 5

  “There’s also a picture of you after the crash.”

  “You cannot see my face. No one will know it’s me. At worst Lockhart will take the precaution of dismissing the swain I turned. But she cannot act against me without proof. Not if she wants to maintain her position.”

  “True,” I said. “But there’s also the photos that I took. The ones where you’re not wearing a mask.”

  He snarled, his nails digging into my jaw. “You took no such photos.”

  “Sure I did.” I reached out to Christina next to me, tapped the button camera disguised in her jacket. “With this. While we were shooting the breeze before.”

  With a snarl, Serrano tossed me to the side and ripped the button camera from Christina’s jacket, taking a fistful of fabric with it. He examined the camera for a moment, then crushed it in his fist.

  Over the whistling of the wind through the shed I heard a soft crunching sound, like footsteps on grass.

  “There,” the vampire snapped. “The photos are destroyed. You have nothing.”

  I shook my head and licked the blood from my lips. “Too late. They’re already out there. Bluetooth, asshole.”

  The shed doors flew open with a crash. Serrano leapt to his feet, putting himself between the doors and Christina’s unconscious form.

  A woman strode through the doorway. She was tall, nearly as tall as me, with a curvy body that moved with a hunter’s grace. Her gown shone softly in the moonlight creeping through the cracks in the shed. She had a round face with a strong nose and a head full of dark curls.

  You couldn’t really call her beautiful. But she was…she was something.

  I swallowed. I’d always hoped that if I ever met Sonja Lockhart, it would be with a sunflare in my pocket and a couple of wooden stakes hidden behind my back.

  I was so entranced by Lockhart I almost didn’t notice another figure slipping into the shed behind her: Hana Kinfe. Where Lockhart’s face was a mask of neutrality, Kinfe’s eyes burned with fury.

  “Madame Lockhart,” Serrano stammered.

  “Hello, Francis,” Lockhart said. It wasn’t a silky soft voice like most of her kind had. It was as hard and smooth as obsidian. Her eyes flicked to me, then to Christina’s unconscious form behind Serrano. It was clear she’d missed nothing. “Hello, cunning man. Mr. Turner, isn’t it?”

  Bracing myself against the wall, I pushed myself to stand. I only whimpered a little.

  “Osric will do. Ozzy if you’re feeling friendly.”

  Serrano grabbed me by the arm. “Madame! I found this wizard casting his spells on the swain here. I sensed his magic from the party, and I came here to—”

  “Francis, please.” Lockhart managed to sound like a vaguely disappointed parent. She shook her head. “I’ve seen the pictures.”

  “It’s a trick!” Serrano said.

  “Unhand Osric, Francis.”

  “But he—”

  Lockhart straightened. “Unhand him!”

  Her voice was so cold I shivered. For a few seconds even the wind fell silent, and the only sound was Christina’s rasping breaths.

  Then Serrano’s fingers released their grasp on my arm. I stepped away from him, picking up my truncheon.

  Hana Kinfe stepped forward, brushing past Lockhart and baring her teeth at Serrano. “What have you done to my swain, you treacherous snake?”

  “Hana,” Lockhart said, laying a finger on Kinfe’s arm. It was enough to stop her in her tracks. “Enough. You’ve caused enough damage already. Your little game could have exposed us all.”

  Hana shrank back. Lockhart turned to me, full lips forming a closed-mouth smile.

  “My thanks to you and Early for bringing this incident to my attention. It is a relief to know that Christina is safe. Hana, you have the man’s fee?”

  “Keep it,” I said. “I want something else instead.”

  Lockhart’s eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. “Oh?”

  I jabbed a finger toward Serrano. “A lock of his hair. And three drops of his blood.”

  Serrano opened his mouth to object, but a look from Lockhart silenced him. “I am not in the habit of surrendering vampire blood, Osric. Especially not to magic users.”

  “Not even the blood of traitors? Not even the blood of those who would corrupt your swains and break your laws?”

  Lockhart’s lips tightened. “He will be dealt with appropriately, make no mistake.”

  “I don’t give a shit.” Trying not to look as injured as I was, I straightened and puffed out my chest. “Three drops. That’s all I care about.”

  “Why?” she asked. “What do you intend to do with it?”

  “When he took Christina, he cursed a troll. That troll’s going to die unless we break the curse.”

  “A troll?” Her lips quirked upward. She sounded amused.

  I wasn’t. “That’s right.”

  She shook her head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, Osric. A vampire’s blood is a sacred thing. Hana will get you your money, and perhaps I can sweeten the pot a little. As a kind of…completion fee.”

  I sighed, nodding. “Fine. Say, you don’t mind if the rest of your brood gets their hands on the photos Christina took, do you?”

  Lockhart’s smile froze in place. “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah, I mean, that wouldn’t make you look weak or anything, would it? One of your own swains spying on you. Right under your nose. Leaking your secrets to this asshole. I’m sure your brood would be understanding, right? I mean, everyone makes mistakes.”

  Lockhart’s smile thawed, but it still didn’t reach her eyes. “You should be very careful, Mr. Turner.”

  I shrugged. “That’s never been my strong suit. Early’s the careful one. Man, would he be pissed if anything were to happen to me. Thing about Early, though, is he has lots of friends in town. I wonder if you vampires can say the same? I always got the impression some folks thought you could do with being taken down a peg.”

  Serrano was gawking at me openly. Kinfe looked like she was starting to regret hiring me and Early. Lockhart took a slow step forward. I resisted the urge to back away from her.

  “You would threaten all this…for a troll?” Lockhart said.

  “He made an impression on me.”

  Lockhart grew silent for several seconds. Her eyes bored into mine. My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. I knew damn well that if Lockhart’s anger got the better of her, I’d be dinner before I could blink. I also knew that backing down would be a fine way of awakening the predator inside her. So I stood. And I waited.

  Lockhart’s head twitched to the side. She met Kinfe’s eyes.

  She snarled something in a language I didn’t understand. Serrano went rigid, opening his mouth to shout.

  Lockhart and Kinfe pounced.

  One instant they were two graceful high-class women, dressed to impress. And in the next they were monsters. Claws extended, lips peeled back. Their eyes grew wide and black. Jagged teeth glistened in the dim light.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and flinched back, waiting to be ripped apart. There was a crash, and a scream. It wasn’t mine.

  I opened my eyes. I wished I hadn’t.

  Lockhart and Kinfe descended on Serrano, bearing him to the floor like a pack of wolves bringing down a deer. Serrano flailed and struck out, his own teeth gnashing. But his fight with me had left him weak. He was no match for the two female vampires.

  Kinfe drove a clawed hand into Serrano’s gut, tearing through clothing and flesh and driving up beneath his ribcage, toward his heart. Serrano’s shriek echoed through the shed.

  Until Lockhart bit into his throat. No delicate little bleeding, this. Her jaw clamped shut over his windpipe, blood spilling out either side of her mouth. Then she twisted and reared back, ripping flesh and gristle from his throat. Serrano’s scream became a gurgle.

  Lockhart spat the hunk of flesh at my feet and I staggered back, nearly tripping over Christina’s unconscious form. The young woman gro
aned and started to stir. I couldn’t take my eyes from the grisly scene in front of me.

  Lockhart gave me a bloody grin then descended again, crouching over Serrano on all fours as she continued to tear at his throat.

  As Serrano’s movements slowed, Lockhart hiked up her skirt and straddled his chest. She put her hands on either side of his head. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide and terrified.

  Lockhart ripped his head from his shoulders. As she pulled and twisted, bone cracked and the last few strands of flesh and cartilage tore. She held up the head in triumph, eyes filled with wild abandon. Then she exhaled deeply and brought the head close to hers, touching her forehead to the dead vampire’s.

  That image would haunt my nightmares for a long time to come.

  Exhaling, Hana Kinfe withdrew her hand from Serrano’s chest, wiping her bloody fingers on his shirt. She turned, looking exhausted, and her eyes settled on Christina. She rushed to the young woman’s side.

  “Christina, my sweet. You’re alive.” She tore the rope from Christina’s wrists and held the groaning woman to her breast.

  Slowly, Lockhart rose from Serrano’s body, the severed head still gripped in her hands. Her claws retracted and her features reshaped themselves. Her skirt was still hiked up obscenely around her hips. Her face and the front of her dress were smeared with blood. Bits of flesh were caught in her curls.

  She dug her fingers into Serrano’s scalp and tugged. A scrap of skin and hair tore loose. She strode over to me and pushed it into my hands.

  “Hair,” she said, then she raised her hand to gesture around her. “Take whatever blood you wish.” She glanced down at Serrano’s head, then dropped it next to his body. “And then I suggest you leave my hotel, Mr. Turner. Before I change my mind.”

  5

  “Ow,” I said to Early, flinching as he rubbed one of his stinking creams into the bruises that covered my chest. “That stings.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all it does,” the old man said. He stood up and wiped his hands clean. “All right, we’re done. How does it feel now?”

  I lowered my shirt and waved my arms around. “It hurts like hell.”

  “Think of it as a valuable learning experience.”

  He sat down on the riverbank next to me, pulling a coat closed around him. The night sky was finally starting to show hints of predawn light. Even in the dark, I could tell Early was nearly as tired as me.

  Which only goes to show he lacks stamina. I mean, he didn’t have to fight any fucking vampires, did he?

  Hider knelt down in the middle of the river, his mouth open as he faced the onrushing water. The troll had spent the last ten minutes drinking deeply from the river, and he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

  It had been a near-run thing. By the time I got back to the river with Serrano’s blood and hair, Hider was at death’s door. Early and I had worked through the rest of the night to break the curse before it could overwhelm him. A couple of times we thought we’d lost him. Turns out trolls are pretty damn tough. Who knew?

  He’d regained consciousness about an hour ago. Three quarters of an hour after that he’d been able to stand and stagger back to the river, where he’d been ever since.

  Early had wanted to stick around a little longer, make sure the curse didn’t make a reappearance. I didn’t mind. I liked watching the troll drinking. Made my own pains hurt a little less.

  “What about Christina?” Early asked me after a couple of minutes of silence.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s all right?”

  “Depends what you mean by all right.” I shrugged. “Physically, yeah, I think she’ll be okay. She was just coming around when I left. The crash did a number on her, but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage. And Serrano hadn’t been able to fully turn her to his will by the time I interfered. I think soon enough she’ll be back to being Kinfe’s happy little bloodslave.”

  “There are some things we can’t change.”

  I nodded, watching Hider drink. “Yeah. It’s better when we can change them, though.”

  Finally, the troll seemed to have drunk his fill. He pushed himself up and stomped toward us. His steps were surer now. He seemed stronger already.

  “Hider feel better,” the troll rumbled.

  I grinned. “Good to hear, big guy.”

  “You save girl?”

  I shook my head. “You saved her. I just found her again. She’s alive. She’s safe.”

  Hider bobbed his big troll head, then lowered his voice. “The goat man?”

  An image flashed before my eyes: Lockhart on her knees, tearing Serrano’s throat out with her teeth.

  “He won’t be bothering you again,” I said.

  Early stood and tapped me on the shoulder. “We should go. You need rest.”

  “Yeah.” A little reluctantly, I let Early pull me up. “Take care of yourself, Hider. Don’t go rescuing any more damsels in distress, okay?”

  His stony brow furrowed in confusion. “Dis…dress?”

  “Never mind.” I waved. “See you round.”

  The troll lifted one huge paw. “Bye, cunnin’ men.”

  Early and I clambered back up to the road and got in my van. I switched on the heater. It was pretty cold out there.

  “You did well to get Serrano’s blood,” Early said as he buckled his seat belt. “Sounds like it was hard work.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this is one of those criticism sandwiches?”

  The old man smiled. “I’m just thinking…are you sure you couldn’t have got the blood and the money? You know, I’ve been meaning to get the roof repaired ever since that downpour last month. And the tires on my pick-up are getting a little bald.” He paused. “I’m just saying—”

  “You want to go ask Lockhart? Be my guest. We’ll head back to the hotel right now. I’ll wait in the car while you handle the negotiations.”

  He chewed his lip. “On second thoughts, I can probably do the roof myself. Physical labor is good for the soul.”

  “Yeah.” I started the van, did a U-turn, and headed for home. “That’s what I thought, old man.”

  Thanks for reading!

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  Ozzy’s adventures continue in Cunning Devil (Lost Falls, Book 1) and Pay Dirt (Lost Falls, Book 2). Grab your copies on Amazon and dive back in!

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  ALSO IN THE LOST FALLS SERIES

  Cunning Devil (Lost Falls, Book 1)

  Pay Dirt (Lost Falls, Book 2)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chris Underwood spends an unhealthy amount of time in his imagination. Luckily, his partner and daughter are very tolerant. He writes the kind of urban fantasy he has always loved: stories set in perilous, darkly beautiful worlds filled with magic, monsters, and just a touch of hope.

  You can find him on Facebook or contact him at: chris@chrisunderwoodbooks.com

  www.chrisunderwoodbooks.com