Sergeant Tungsten threw a salute to his Grand Master, then threw another one—because he felt like it.
“The Undead-O-Senser is going positively mad, sir!”
Philo jumped up from his desk immediately. There went the evening at home.
“Alright, Sergeant, arm the troops. How soon will they be here?”
“According to my calculations, Grand Master…”
“Yes?”
“Um. Thirty-Two Seconds. Sir.”
#
“Alright, Knights of the Order, let’s move move move! Take up the holy stakes!”
Dozens of trench-coat clad investigators and enforcers ran past in one swift line, each taking a stake from the rack.
“Gunmen, take up the holy shotguns filled with vamp-shot!”
Tight-faced men clutched the guns to their chests. Others filled the tanks of their Super Soakers with holy water blessed by the Bishop of New York (he had wondered why they wanted so damn much).
“Prepare for battle, soldiers of the Rather Sharp Cross!”
Sergeant Tungsten took the megaphone away from his lips. First Knight Slatton handed him a Beretta.
“You seem a bit…cheerful, Sergeant,” Slatton loaded his shotgun.
“Why yes, Tom. I’m hoping to get a scar, starting at my left cheekbone, which reaches all the way to my ear. Ideally. I mean, you can’t hope too high.”
“Oh, right, sir.”
“I mean, if it stopped at my eye or something that would be okay.”
“Right, sir.”
The windows exploded into shards. Vampires leapt into the room, swiping right and left at agents. The group scattered, firing as they ran—two agents were left bleeding on the ground.
“Holy Soakers, fire!” Jay shouted through the megaphone.
From several cubicles about tongues of water sprayed out. Vampires hissed and drew back, screaming if the concoction touched their skin.
The lead vampire leapt over the agent’s heads and kicked a cubicle down, catching two agents in the process. Slatton fired with his Beretta and leapt forward, brandishing his stake.
Eldred turned and growled, swinging his arm around in an arc that caught Slatton’s chin. Slatton crumpled, bloody and unconscious.
Jay leapt off the podium and held up his holy cross, causing Eldred to snarl and leap back. The Sergeant drew out his stake.
The vampire laughed, squaring like a wrestler, keeping his eyes locked with Jay’s and off the cross. Leaping up in a double-kick that defied gravity, Eldred left the ground. Jay missed the kicks and drove in with his stake. Eldred was too fast—he caught the stake with his left and his right moved for Jay’s throat. It would have been the end for the Sergeant, if he had not been a priest and wearing his rosary.
As Eldred’s hand closed around his throat, he realized he was touching the wooden relic. He screamed and wrung his hand, leaping back.
Jay grunted. Still no scar.
#
“Oh damn, damn, damn,” Philo whispered to himself as he rushed through the back corridors of the floor. He threw open two doors and smiled, grim but happy at the moment. He picked up one of the baton-like mechanisms.
“I hope these can buy us some time.”
#
Eldred crouched next to Fabio and Thomas. Shots and squirts reverberated all around.
“Alright, how’s it going?” he licked his lips.
“Okay,” Fabio sniffed. “I just had a nice, long drink from one of them, so I’m refreshed.”
“Any casualties?”
“Wallace,” Thomas growled.
“Oh, that Irish guy,” Eldred nodded. “He always said he wanted to be a leprechaun instead of a vampire. Well, may he finally rest in peace.”
An explosion rocked the floor.
“They have crazy weapons,” Eldred sniffed the air. “I’ve never had to be this careful before. But we’ll get ‘em. They’re just mortals. They’re our prey. If they fight back, they’ll learn the consequences.”
“Right.” Thomas and Fabio nodded.
Eldred stood up and prepared to go back into battle. A hand touched his shoulder. He turned around and faced Fabio.
“Uh, I just wanted to say,” Fabio bit his lip. “If we don’t get out of this alive…I love you, I really—“
“Oh shut up!” Eldred threw Fabio’s hand off and stalked away.
#
Carlo growled at the button panel.
“Anyone know how to work this thing?”
The three werewolves shook their heads, showing empty hands. They were inside the buildings’ elevator.
“I knew we should’ve taken the stairs like the rest of the pack,” Carp folded his arms.
“Just press all the buttons and see what happens,” Fang suggested.
“Alright.” Carlo ran his claws down the panel, hitting every button. With a creak, the elevator began to move.
“Yeah! That’s technology for you!” Carlo grinned and crossed his arms.
#
Philo ran in, weighted down immensely by loads of grenades. They were strapped to his jacket, they were hanging from his belt and there were two in each hand.
Philo yanked out two pins and shouted a warcry, hurling the grenades at two oncoming vampires. The explosion ensuing was only bested by the cheers of the Order.
Only one of the vampires ran off. The other was an ash pile.
#
Eldred slammed his head into his fists, cursing not being sufficient for this type of anger.
“Alright, coveners—this time we fly straight at them!”
The five behind him nodded.
“Poor Fitch,” said Forgone. “’E was a good lad.”
“For Fitch and Wallace!” Amelia shouted.
#
Carp poked his head out.
“Is this the one?” Carlo asked.
“Nope.” The werewolf pulled his head back in.
“Stupid invention,” Fang broiled. “Stops at every damn floor.”
#
The vampires flew forward faster than sound, crashing into the agents. Vampires grabbed agents by their shoulders and kicked their chests in; they strangled Knights in a split second with their strength; they blasted them with their handguns.
Philo chucked a barrage of grenades; Eldred caught one in each hand and tossed them back. They exploded in midair and the Order drew back, coughing garlic.
It was into this mayhem that a howl came. Everyone stopped and stood straight. The vampires cringed in fear.
“Damn! And we were winning, too!” Eldred pouted.
Philo put a hand on Sergeant Tungsten’s heaving shoulders. “Don’t be relieved yet, Sergeant. We might be out of the frying pan, only to go into the fire.”
“Speaking of which, do we have any?” Jay asked.
“What?”
“Fire. That sort of thing’s good against werewolves, right?”
“Uh…no. We don’t have any fire. All we have is a fire extinguisher. Hey, wait…”
#
Ding!
“Is this the floor?” Carlo clenched his teeth.
Carp stuck his head out. “Um…no.”
“How many floors can this building have?”
“Don’t worry, dad, we seem to be a bit higher up.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m ripping these buttons out when we get there.”
#
Eldred bounded back and skidded to a halt on the other side of the building.
“Damn those werewolves. They’ve destroyed enough of our plans.”
“I take it we’re leaving, then?” Amelia put her hands on her hips.
“Unless you want to stay and get killed,” Eldred snarled.
“No no, you lead the way, Mr. Machismo.”
Eldred roiled. He stalked to the open window and the coven followed him.
He noticed Fabio smiling at him as they left. Eldred kicked him in the face.
#
The elevator door opened. Carlo sniffed and grinned.
“Finally!” He leapt out of the elevator and rushed through the halls like a dog with a new toy. What he came upon, however, was not what he and the other three had been hoping for.
“Thank you for defending us from those vampires, Mr. Denner,” the chief mortal stepped forward and bowed. “We hope you have no quarrel with us.”
Carlo hit the ground with a fist. “You mean we missed all the action? I was going to have a good bite tonight, and I don’t care if it’s vampire-flesh or human-flesh!”
Philo nodded and reached in his pocket. He drew out a cigar-lighter. The rest of the Order did as well.
#
“We could have used the fire-extinguisher, you know,” Carp informed his father as they galloped down 47th street.
“I ain’t working with any more technology tonight,” Carlo growled.
#
Crazy Jack leaned back in his seat, growling. His face was illuminated by a bright computer screen, not by the outdoor sunlight that was blocked by heavy draperies.
“Still no luck, sir?” the butler came in, effortlessly balancing a tray on his arm.
“Vampiyahs, Jevins. We don’t move with the times. I can’t find a single webpage listing any kind of advertisement for a coven. If vampiyahs would think about what’s goin’ on around them, read a few magazines once in a while—“ he gestured to a pile of magazines on his desk, “—then vampiyahs around the wohld would be more connected, more synchronized. As it is, vampiyah cities ah islands in a sea of life.”
“Well, sir, not all vampires are as broad-thinking as you.”
“That’s true, Jevins, that’s true. If only I could enlighten a few! I’ve been trying to find a new coven for the past few weeks. There’s just no way to find them. They don’t ‘ave webpages, they don’t ‘ave toll-free phone numbahs.”
“Perhaps, sir, you should start the movement.”
“What?”
“You could start a website; you could start a service. Informed vampires are bound to come, sir—bound!”
Crazy Jack leaned forward in his seat, a smile just barely flitting on his face. “Hey—pah-haps you ah right. Why, that may be the solution to all of this—if I had a big enough coven at my back, I could challenge that Coffinmakah once moah!”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Good idea, Jevins.” Crazy Jack leaned forward and began typing on the keyboard. He looked back at his butler. “Eh—do you think I should use Freewebs, Jevins?”
“I could hardly say, sir.”
“I should put a link to my Facebook account, too.”
#
“None of your plans are working, Coffinmaker,” Eldred stalked back and forth in on the stone floor. “You aren’t getting us any farther than Jack did—in fact, more coveners have been killed since you became leader than before!”
“You seem to think my plans have been thwarted,” the Coffinmaker raised an eyebrow, rubbing his fingernails together.
“Yes, of course! What are you, blind as well as stupid?”
The Coffinmaker was up from his seat in a blur, with a speed that made Eldred flinch back.
“I will…disregard that remark,” the Coffinmaker clicked his teeth together, “since you are obviously angry at the supposed failure.”
Eldred didn’t say anything, but secretly he was glad the Coffinmaker hadn’t done anything. Though the vampire was less than imposing in stature, there was something that said to Eldred ‘do not anger me’.
“However, these have not been failures. These have simply been training sessions. I guessed that your coven would not destroy the Order in one simple shot. I wanted you to learn.”
The Coffinmaker addressed all the vampires present; Amelia, Forgone, Thomas and the triplets.
“You have all been lazy over the past century; anything you wanted, you could take. And now, when a real threat faces you, you expect to defeat it easily? You must hone your instincts, fight for survival.”
“But we’ve been weakened,” Amelia stepped forward. “First Rocky, now Wallace and Fitch.”
“Ah—but the Order much more so, my dear,” the Coffinmaker grinned. “And I have replacements. Replacements that will be twice as good as Rocky, Wallace and Fitch combined.”
The room was silent. Everyone wanted to say ‘who?’ but none could.
“Do not worry. You will meet them when the time is right. Now, however, we must concentrate on the Achilles’ Heel the Order has revealed.”
“What’s that?” Amelia asked.
“They have given us one of their assets—given it right into our hands. The new vampire, Zeph.”
“Yeah,” Eldred joined in, “where is Zeph, anyway? He wasn’t with us during the attack.”
“Because he didn’t know about it,” the Coffinmaker smiled. “I was afraid he’d leave if he found out we were attacking his friends. Besides, I wanted the element of surprise.”
“So we’ll ransom him?” Amelia rubbed her hands together.
“No. We’ll use him as bait.” The vampire sat back down.
“Typical villain scheme,” Eldred agreed.
#
Philo was arguing with the head janitor when Mara and Cy arrived.
“It was vandalism, alright?” Philo motioned for the family to sit down.
“That’s one army of vandals!” The head janitor was a sixty-something man with a handlebar mustache. “The windows are broken! Are you going to say they had catapults?”
“Um…no. Just really strong arms.”
“Yeah, they must have, to throw rocks that can knock down walls and cubicles,” the janitor scowled.
“Look, I’ll pay you through your nose and out your ears for this, okay? Just get it picked up without a lot of fuss.”
The head janitor sniffed and shuffled away. Philo turned to the Walkers.
“Sorry about that. Some people are just too curious.”
“What happened?” Mara turned over a cubicle, then looked around to see if anyone had seen her.
“Vampire attack.” Philo crossed his arms. “Don’t know how they found us, but it must have had something to do with that Rocky.”
“Are you moving, then?” Cy bit his lip.
“Probably—across the city, maybe to Manhattan or something.”
“Why’d you call us here?” Cy put his arm around Mara.
“I need you to get a hold of Zeph,” Philo said.
#
Zeph strode down the abandoned subway tracks, gravel crunching under his feet. Everything was black, a human wouldn’t be able to see a thing until it hit him in the face.
But Zeph could see. What’s more, he could feel. Mind control also comes with a handy radar. He could sense minds around him with this radar. And now he was glad he could, because he could sense that someone was closing in on him.
Zeph stopped. Someone was approaching at the front, and another at the back. He reached into the mind in front of him, trying to find who it was.
So you’re Cyril’s son, eh? The thoughts invaded him as he pried into the strange mind. I wonder if you’ll be less of a disappointment than your father.
Zeph recoiled. His phone chose that moment to ring.
“Hello?” Zeph whispered.
“Hey, Zeph, this is dad. Where are you?”
Zeph heard running from up the tunnel. “Dad, I need help. Somebody’s—“
The phone was snatched from his hand as a shadowed figure leapt over his head. Zeph whirled around and faced a tall, heavily built vampire.
“Hello, Cy,” the vampire hissed into the phone.
“What?” Cy’s voice was panicking. “Who is this?”
The vampire grinned, showing teeth that were straight, like broadswords. “This is Upton. You’ll remember me, surely.”
Then he crushed the phone.
#
“Zeph? My God, they’ve got him.” Cy clutched the phone, blinking back tears.
Philo grasped his shoulders.“Who, Cy? Who got him?”
“Upton—that vampire I was with when you found me, Philo. I knew I never should have let Zeph go back there. I’ve failed, completely.”
Mara shook her head. “You haven’t failed, Cy. You couldn’t protect Zeph.”
Cy’s eyes hardened at Philo. “Yes I could’ve. I could have never let him listen to you, Philo. If I hadn’t, Zeph—”
“Zeph would have thought you were overprotective and gone anyway,” Mara growled. “There’s no way around it, Cy—he’s too much like me.”
“But at least then I could have said ‘I told you so’!” Cy lamented.
“Listen, Cy,” Philo adjusted his lapel, “this isn’t the time to panic. We can do something about this.”
Cy’s phone vibrated madly in his pocket. He whipped it out and threw it to his ear.
“Zeph? Zeph is that you?” Quivering hope emerged in his voice.
“I’m sorry, it isn’t.”
The voice was confident and resonant. It sounded like a soothing lullaby, but more serious; like a cricket’s chirp, but more silent; like a night wind, but more wild.
“Who is this?” Cy looked at the ground, awe overcoming the bitterness in his voice.
“You may call me Night. I can help you get your son back. But first, you must do something for me.”
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