Chapter Twenty

Zero Chill

"Hey sexy thing," I give it the once over, "Y'know I can make it rain for you babygirl." It’s late and I'm in an underground bar, small and dim.
It raises an overdrawn eyebrow "You look pretty broke to me."
I give it a laugh that isn't my own. I've memorized a plethora. "Trust me."
It shrugs and clicks down off the stool.
I lead it onto the dance floor. We're cushioned by a dozen other sweaty bodies and some throbbing dance music. It's an older woman, 45-50 definitely in the cougar zone, and as we grind to the synth I'm sizing it up.Fairly thin for it’s age without any muscle, and varicose veins up it's legs. A mother. Hot.
I trail my fingers lightly across its skin and press my mouth into its shoulder. It’s breasts reeks of cheap beer and silicone padding.
Soon it invites me into the girl's washroom. I wear my hands hanging from my belt loops and the most suggestive of disinterested expressions. We find the washrooms at the bottom of some stairs and the end of a hall.
"Never got your name." It pants between liplocks.
"Mark." I murmur distracting it with my tongue as slide us into a stall. "I don't think you told me yours babe." Feign interest, they like that.
"It's Suzanne." It moans as I lower my kisses down it's neck- cervical vertebrae- along the chest - clavicle- down it's cleavage- sternum. Bones are such a turn on.
“I promised I’d make it rain for you.”
“Huh?”
Without warning I jam my fingers horizontally into its soft abdomen. My nails pierce the skin and touch something wet. Dark clouds unravel across the ceiling, blotting out the fluorescent lights. It howls in pain and kicks me in the groin. I stagger back and it hits me in the eye with a shoe.
Lady's got spunk.
I use a steady gust of wind to keep the washrooms exit closed, then I summon another and smash Suzanne against the farthest wall. Tiles crack and it falls, limp. The pounding music above us covers the ruckus. I swagger up to her, grinding the teeth in the back of my head and craning my neck to the side. I drag moisture from the air, so it falls in perfect teardrops. “Did I f*****g stutter.”
When I'm done I wash off and fix my hair. Back upstairs, I get another drink for the road.
"Excuse me. You were with Suzanne yeah?" It's a young boy. Can't be more than 14. Viner haircut. Snapback. Monster t-shirt. Bet it has a longboard outside.
"Well I was. How do you know"-it-"her?"
"She's my dad's new girlfriend." I nod concernedly. "Yeah so anyway, they got in a fight and he sent me to find her. Zeke I mean, the bartender said you were with her?"
"About this tall, brunette, greenish dress?"
"Yeah."
"Well frankly...kid..."
"It's Luke."
Shocker. "Luke. She brought me downstairs, told me she wanted to take me somewhere but then out of the blue changed her mind. Said she had to get back to someone." I do my best casually scorned expression but it's rusty.
It frowns and looks at its phone "...said he'd text me if she got back."
I roll my eyes. "Here I'll take you to where she left me. Maybe she's still around.”
"Cool."
Downstairs it vomits an impressive shade of orange at the sight of Suzanne. That's the one thing I'll remember about this boy. That cheese whiz shade of puke. I pin it face down on the wall, suspended by a strong breeze. I tear off its shirt and it whimpers as if it think I'm going to pork it. Conceited b***h.
You know my motto. Don't pork it. Fork it. I get out the carving fork I store in my boot and inflict a narrow incision onto it's back, scraping upwards until I've formed a little pocket. In that pocket I deposit a little note I was planning to leave on the bar counter. Then I let Luke fall and stomp down on the protruding utensil effectively severing the spine between the lumbar and sacral vertebrae. Frantically it crawls towards the door, dragging his immobile lower half along. I watch passively, wondering how far it can get. Soon the blood loss becomes too much and using its last burst of energy it flips itself over. Staring up at me. Eyes wide. Tear stained. "Why?"
I twirl my mangled fork around in the air “Well y’see kiddo, I’ve been wheeling this fox named Mark and… oh crikey cuntfucker I’ve got to get back to the hearse before my friends wake up.”
It coughs up a little spray of blood in agreement.
I exhale all the breath from my body, scrape my teeth together, and focus on the static in the clouds. The localized lightning strikes down and fries the biological pile that calls itself Luke.
A few minutes later I exit the washroom with two new teeth jingling in my pocket, just as a young woman is entering.
"You might not want to go in there." I warn cheekily, "Kind of a mess."
**************************
It's the second time in 24 hours I get to unleash hell and I could get used to this. The back door of the hearse is open, giving me free access to the sky. I cause the clouds to darken and boil and direct several violent bolts of lightning at the angels tailing us; away from the buildings they're naturally attracted to. Thunder rocks the lampposts, someone screams on the street but I know they can't clearly see what's happening in the fog.
I use my last iota of strength to summon a storm and let it lose it on the town behind us. Then I slam the door shut and repose in the passenger seat with my platforms resting on the dashboard. My body is shaking with exertion and the wound on my arm has reopened but I hide it as best I can.
“We need to get to a hospital.” Coral pleads from the back.
“No.” Blaze snaps. “We’ll be trapped there. By the police, the Fallen, it doesn't matter. Either way, once we stop moving we’re dead. You have to get used to being a fugitive now.”
“Fugitive?! I’m probably the only sane one he-”
“Girls girls. Catfight later. I’m kinda dying here.”
“S**t, if we...”
They're boring me so I convince Mark to make an unscheduled stop. I lean over his lap into the speaker and say loudly “Yeah hi, bonjour whatever. Can I get a double double, a steak sandwich uh…”
“Are you serious.” Blaze groans.
“You'll be thanking me in a minute when you have a box of hot Timbits in your lap.” I order everyone's usual, despite their protests and claims that I’m endangering our lives. In the end it only causes a five minute delay.
“Calm your tits people, we got coffee.” I sing handing the beverages out which they reluctantly accept.
“Hey so Québec City’s up ahead.” Mark suggests quietly. “If we still wanna stop.” Oooh, I could get used to this dominant take-charge Mark...
“Yeah?” Blaze says, “Yeah that's good. Lots of people. Roughly 20 minutes away. It's our best bet.”
And so it's decided. Québec city.
We coast into the cobblestone streets, eventually parking by a post office while I get out to go look for a house we can squat in.
I’m in oldest portion of the city,surrounded by thick ramparts. The houses here stand shoulder to shoulder and the storefronts have quaint wooden signs hanging from them. I don't look too out of place among the street performers and tourists.
I meander up to the most expensive looking house, with a balcony and white lattice porch. I'm sure to start limping once I'm close, emphasising my bleeding arm. I stagger up the steps and try to look frightened, rapping on the door in short, fast bursts. A young woman, around 30 opens the door.
“Excusez-moi, puis-je utiliser votre téléphone?” I say in passable French,raising the pitch of my voice and adding a slight lisp. It stares me up and down, taking in my condition. “S'il vous plaît?” I add hastily.
“Reste ici.” it says calmly while turning back inside. I let the door catch on my foot and I'm in.
Progressive woman. That's nice.
As soon as the door closes behind me I fire a bolt of lightning straight into its face. It goes flying backwards, almost comically but when I check on the body it’s still agitated with breath. I groan aloud. It’s so tricky to get enough static out of the air indoors. You don't have the power of the sky behind you.
I drag it upstairs by the ankles, watching its head hit each of the steps. I find some belts in what I assume is the husband's half of the closet and expertly bind its wrists and legs together. Then I gag it with a scarf and shove it into the linen closet.
Alrightie. Got the pad to myself now. I turn on the cooking channel and jack off for a bit before I go get the others.
What? It was a long car ride.
I lead them through the back gait, carrying all their luggage. The hearse was left in the parking lot, we’re pretty sure there's no demand on the black market for a 23 year old hearse with a disco interior.
“You sure no ones home?” Blaze asks as she and Coral help Fabian limp along.
“Sure as Meryl Streep's a*****e.” I assure her.
Coral is sent to get any first aid materials from the bathrooms. Blaze lies Fabian down on the carpet. Mark helps but soon has to turn away from the gore. As if on instinct his hand moves to touch his own leg, his expression vacant.
She tosses aside one of Fabian’s bloody bandages. I discretely snatch it up and start sucking on it. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mark leave the room.
“F**k, he's losing too much blood.”
“Cauterize the wound,” I suggest between a mouthful of cotton.
She pulls her eyebrows down. “I don't.. don't know if I can...”
“Sure you can! Piece of cake! Like roasting a Christmas ham. And I'm not just trying to butter you up.”
“Hey kid. Enough with the food analogies.” Fabian groans.
“Yeah have you been watching the food network or something?”
I bristle, “Why don't you stop stalling and set fire to the Fabes.”
“Y'know, baby iz ok,” Fabian begins.
“That's it. Corrie I hope you found some painkillers!” Blaze hollers before igniting her hands and slamming them down on the tender flaps of his leg meat. He screams.
I start giggling, not exactly sure at what but it got my brain juices going and now there's no stopping it.
The fabric of his pants catches on fire and she smothers the flames frantically. Fabian passes out. Coral rushes down the stairs bandages and iodine in her arms.
They messily sterilize and wrap the wound, struggling to keep the cotton from sticking to his coagulated blood.
“Shut up or get out.” Blaze hisses brushing a strand of red hair from her face.
I rise off the loveseat, and chuckle to myself as I leave, taking a couple bandages with me for my arm.
Once they’ve finished, Coral goes to take a shower and Blaze begins to close all the curtains and barricade the doors.
I find Mark out in the yard, staring at a solitary tree. I wish I could image what's going through his mind. But of course I can't, that's not how it works.
“Hiya.”
“I can't go back can I? I don't belong anywhere anymore.”
I encase him in my arms, “You belong to me now.”
“I'm crazy aren't I?”
“Nah, momma taught me to never stick my dick in crazy.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me?”
“Shh.” I clamp my hand over his mouth and steer him to the house. “We go inside.”
**********
"So how do we fight them? Bullets seem to slow them down but it's not enough." Fabian says factually throwing a pair of jeans into the washing machine. Blaze woke him up a couple hours ago. He had promptly responded with an Ey girl, where my hug at? and got punched in the nose Now correct me if I'm wrong. But something's off with that dude.
"They burn pretty well." Blaze notes.
"Oh how handy for you." Fabian says snarkily and Coral cracks a smile. He offers her a sip of the tequila he found while raiding the cabinets. She refuses.I ship it so hard.
"Where's your laundry Rippir?" Coral asks as she empties the last of our luggage into the washer.
I lick my lips, "Listen close girlie. If you think I machine wash my children, you better get your head out of whoevers navy blue a*****e it's shoved up."
Blaze steps between us, “Unless you want a matching set of black eyes do better calm the f**k down.”
I step back grinning bemusedly, “Wowzer Blazy. Never pegged you as a racist.”Attention’s on me so I decide to make my announcement. “Ok folks so here's the scoop. Tomorrow morning bright an early we go to Oklahoma. Where my parents lived before they had me. The legend talks about the forests there. It's where we'll find her."
"How do we know this isn't all bullshit?" Fabian asks, "This Queen of the Forest. You’ve barely told us anything.”
"I told your sorry asses about the Fallen and those turned out to be pretty real didn't they?" I lean across the dryer into his face, "My parents wouldn't lie to me. She's our only hope ."
Fabian takes that as an invitation to take another shot.
We head back to the living room and pile onto the couches and chairs. Fabian passes out almost immediately. I flick on the news and Blaze grabs the tequila from his grasp. They're running a story on the bizarre weather phenomena seen in Saint Jean Chraér earlier today. Blaze comes up with a drinking game that involves taking a shot every time we or any event caused by us is mentioned on the news. The bottle goes around the room faster than any of us thought even though there are a few headliners I neglect to take credit for.
By time Fabian wakes we’re all white boy wasted and blaring the Scooby Doo theme song.
“Here we saved you a bagel.” Coral throws the bag at him.
He makes a noncommittal noise, “Tim Horton's again?”
“Hey.” Blaze slaps his arm “There will be no bad mouthing Timmies in this house.”
“Futu-ți dumnezeii mă-tii…”
“Ok cool it Dracula,” I giggle.
“E-excuse me?” Fabian sputters.
Coral smothers a laugh and I mimic fangs with my fingers.
“Nothing nothing. He didn't mean it.” Blaze interjects quickly. “He meant Count Dracula your unholiness.”
The Romanian turns a disgruntled shade of pink. “Ahahaa very mature.”
“Your accent has been way stronger lately plus, plus your red eyes.”
I roll my head back in laughter and fall off the couch onto Mark.
“C’mon guys he's not a vampire.” Mark objects shyly.
“Thank you,” he mutters indignantly.
“He's more of a mummy.” Mark continues gesturing towards his heavily bandages leg.
“This was their fault,” says defensively.
“Better safe than sorry,” Blaze grins.
There's a thud from upstairs.
“Did you guys hear something?” Mark asks hesitantly. I can't tell if he's nervous about being wrong or right.
“They have a dog. I locked it in the bedroom.” I rest my hand on top of his, “B***h won't be getting out any time soon.” I add under my breath.
The drinking and stupid banter carries on late into the night, but it makes the air feel lighter and I’m surprised to feel sad when we separate to find places to crash.
It's sometime in the cresting nightfall. The darkness is soft, malleable. Without the light the darkness has shape. The darkness has form. In every crevice we fail to occupy.
I smooth the velvet sheets of our kingsized and slip underneath them. I read my magazine by the lamplight waiting for my lover.
He walks through the bedroom door, locks it firmly and peels his shirt off. I fold the covers back and slide out of bed, sashaying up behind him and draping my arms around his neck.
“Oh my go-Rippir what the heck?!”
The lace of my nightgown tickles the back of my ankles as I reach up on my tip toes to kiss the top of his head. He spins around the face me. My tongue trails down chest and I feel his sternum. F**k that's hot.
Coral walks in “Have you see-oh. Oh my god. S-Sorry. I’m gone.” She covers her eyes and blushes, exiting the room.
“It's not like that!” Mark calls after her. He falls back into a chair. “Uggghh. Why. What are you even doing. Take those clothes off. I mean, oh god…”
I stretch onto the bed and take a sip of the red wine on the nightstand. “C’mon Mark.” I growl the r and let k click in my throat. “You're a functional teenage male aren't you?” I grab the fillet knife from under the pillow and begin to cut my dress off from the collar. “You have….needs don't you.”
“Please, could you, like, not.”
I roll off the mattress onto the lush carpet and sit with my legs spread, strategically showing the matching crimson bra and panties I have on. “It’s all an act y’know.” I lean forward and rest my chin on his knees staring up at him soulfully, “Truth is I’m just as scared and vulnerable as you are.” I don't know if he’s buying it so I work up some tears and scuttle my hand up his chest.
“Ookay,” he flinches back and the chair tips backwards. I land hard on his hip bone and he scampers back across the floor. I tear the remainder of the dress off my body and throw it at him playfully. He gets off the floor and moves to stand on the opposite side of the bed. “S-so wonder what t-the others are up to,” he stammers.
I click my nails on the bed rails and slink towards him. “I wanna get nuclear with you baby.”
He coughs and steps away from me.
“I don't know what that means.”
I lunge at him over the bed. My knife clashes with the lamp he's decided to defend himself with. “Think of the kids,” I growl.
The metals scrape together furiously. I pull back unexpectedly and he falls forward onto the bed. Thunder snaps outside and I pounce pinning his frail body to the mattress. I press the wicked edge of the knife to his forehead. His skin parts smoothly for me. But before things can get heated I hear a deep male voice and a crashing sound come from downstairs.
“Uh oh.” I let go of the knife and gasp dramatically, “The Mister’s home.”