Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles (36 page)

Sainvire fired randomly, and Poe memorized the places where gunfire originated from.

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“That’s it,” she said. Shutting her left eye, Poe shot three times in succession at the dark. One by one, three bodies rolled down the undulating metallic walls of the Hall.

“Michelle said you’re a superhero. I believe it, beauty,” Sainvire said with pride. He pulled Poe toward him and kissed her. Poe kissed him back but quickly released. “There are no windows. We have to break inside Trench’s home to kill him. Let’s not celebrate so early.”



Sainvire flew Poe to MOCA. The art museum was a block away from the Hall. He set her down gently and whispered, “We didn’t really think this out, did we?”

Poe shook her head. “I guess I always thought we could infiltrate Trench’s home through the kitchen. But I’m realizing that just might be a death trap.”

“Same here,” he agreed. He looked up at the massive sculpture made out airplane of scraps hovering over the museum. “Let’s see. There’s the ticket counter, the gift shop. The few windows the building has have already been barricaded. Fuck!” he swore.

Poe couldn’t remember Sainvire ever swearing before. The past two years had altered him quite a bit.

Stubble grew on his strong jaw, and instead of Zen-like tranquility in his light gray eyes, Sainvire spat out fire and deep intensity that Poe hadn’t accepted yet. “There’s always the front door. They never changed the glass.”

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Sainvire shook his head. “We’ll be too exposed.

Shots will be fired from the escalators, the balconies.”

“We have no choice then,” said Poe, dreading the thought. “We gotta go through the kitchen out back. Of course they’ll be waiting for us there, but heck, it’s a smaller space. We’ll be able to see who we’re fighting.”

Sainvire looked up at the sculpture again and said to himself, “I think the artist was Nancy Rubin.”

He studied the hodge-podge propellers, airplane parts, and other junk. “It’s a pretty good piece, don’t you think, Poe?”

Poe quickly examined the artwork Sainvire was staring at. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“I think I remember this artist being influenced by the Watts Towers. She liked creating art from discarded material.”

“Yeah. But what about our entryway?” prodded Poe.
Art history be damned.

“We need our own Watts Towers, Poe. A symbol of hope,” he said. He flew to the sharp edge of the sculpture. With a grunt he pulled off a chunk the size of a claw foot tub replete with propellers and airplane siding. “Sorry about that, Ms. Rubin,” he apologized.

He floated down in front of Poe. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”



The vampire who’d been tired and angry for too long now hurled the heavy sculpture, sharp edge first, inside the dark kitchen of the Disney Hall. As predicted, a volley of bullets erupted in the dark, 331

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targeting the melded art. Poe flipped on the switch and ducked down. Steel-tipped bullets nearly clipped her. For the second time that night her mortality became the topic of conversation inside her brain. No Kevlar could stop steel. “Just keep moving, Poe.

Don’t do anything stupid.”

The bright kitchen lights exposed five vampires also wearing bulletproof vests. One crouched like a monkey on the spice racks, another hid behind the refrigerator, two took their positions in the pantry, and one with cojones
put himself near the door.

Sainvire’s nails elongated and slashed at the head of the vampire who was foolish enough to cross his path. The master vampire decapitated him in three spots.

Bullets hurled their way. Poe slid under the stainless steel cutting table that took over half the kitchen while Sainvire dodged death with his supernatural speed, zigzagging in the blunt space.

Within seconds the table was ridden with holes.

“Fuck me,” she told herself as quietly as possible.

Her heart thudded unnervingly. She inhaled, exhaled, and rolled on the floor to avoid bullets trained at her.

Okay, Mom, Dad. Help me out here.

She gauged where the monkey boy on the spice racks was and shot him through one of the bullet holes in the table. To her relief, the vamp fell to the ground. “Sister Ann, help!” she cried and half-emerged from under the table. With the little courage summoned from her warrior shout, Poe raised both her hands. She fired a Glock from her left and a Beretta from the right. She hit one vamp in the eye and the other, the neck. Sainvire shot the latter behind the head to kill him forevermore.

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Five down in the kitchen
, thought Poe as she stood up. Sainvire took some bullets in the arms, and darkish liquid oozed from his wounds. “Okay there, handsome?”

“Yes,” he said bravely. “Give it a minute or two and the holes will fuse. I hope,” he added to be funny which irritated Poe to the core.

“Jerk,” she said with a clenched jaw.

Sainvire handed Poe a commercial-grade iron skillet that weighed shy of twenty pounds. “Put that over your heart, alright?”

“Are you kidding me? I need both my hands for shooting. This thing is heavy as heck.”

“Just until we reach the escalators, Julia. Then you can toss it at somebody’s head,” he said in exasperation.

“So now you call me Julia when you’re annoyed with me?” she said. Her given name used to evoke passion and longing when Sainvire spoke it.

The vampire didn’t answer but proceeded in front of her, his Jericho 941F in hand. Both looked wildly for snipers within the well lit performance hall. Whereas cold steel hugged the building outside of the famous landmark, the inside was effused with earthy décor and warm unpolished marble cut into rectangular tile that added resonance to the acoustics of the hall. The lobby area seemed empty enough, but both Sainvire and Poe stayed alert.

“Take the escalator, Poe. I’ll check things out ahead of you,” said the vampire. He looked dead serious. He soared to the second floor, and his fangs lengthened on their own accord.

Even holding the dreadfully heavy skillet against her chest, Poe did as Sainvire instructed. She 333

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remembered going up and down the very same escalator in stiletto heels, and color drained from her face. Trench’s home was her horror house, malignant and sticky with nightmare. Images of Trench giving her tender pleasures and having him stand by while vampires feasted on her brought blood cursing back into her veins.
Tonight, Trench will die.

Sainvire met her at the top of the staircase. “I circled the building, Poe. Nothing.”

Afraid Sainvire correctly judged the second floor to be empty, she headed for her old room. Her findings confirmed the truth. Still unconvinced she entered Trench’s boudoir and felt tremors in her stomach. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she told the walls as indecent images flooded her brain.

Sainvire put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s check the concert chamber, Poe.”

Poe sniffed and squared her shoulders. “I’m dropping this frying pan once we’re in,
entiendes
?”

Sainvire’s lower lip quivered, suppressing a laugh. “
Sí
.”

They took the winding side stairs upward to reach the highest balcony doors. Both agreed wordlessly that it was better that way. They would have sight advantage at the very least if they were at the highest rung. The curvature of the auditorium was funneled, perhaps even cone-shaped.

“Take the next door, Poe, and I’ll take this one.

I’ll open it once I hear your hand on the knob.”

Poe nodded and went her way.

The concert space was lit, though nearly half the light bulbs had burned out. Poe and Sainvire entered the upper tier at the same time, thanks to Sainvire’s ultra-sensitive hearing. Poe crouched low and 334

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surveyed the room.
Great Ali, point them out to me
, she prayed in hope that her hero and her instincts would lead her to the enemy.

Poe heard the sound of Santa Ana winds against cloth, and she saw a whish of black fly toward the west side of the hall. It was Sainvire, she realized, plucking from the side balcony a female vamp armed with a cross-bow. Without compunction Sainvire cracked her head and stabbed her in the heart with his finely honed nail.

“To your right, Poe,” he yelled. The girl was too busy watching the killing to realize a gorgeous, leaping model vamp was speeding her way. The calm that always came at violent times blanketed Poe. She raised her Berretta and shot the vampire in the head twice. The beautiful blonde fell back, mouth open, on seat B-28.

Three more vamps burst their way out of the wall acoustic panels and blasted indiscriminately at Poe and Sainvire. From the corner of her eye Poe saw Sainvire shoot a flying vamp, but the bullet only grazed his ear.
Concentrate, Poe
, she said to herself while watching the vamps zigzag to her balcony.

Exhaling, she aimed and fired at the heavy-set halfdead and followed by piercing the androgynous vampire in leather-studded clothes twice in the chest.

She looked down to witness Sainvire slicing his nemesis’ neck. Poe cringed. Violence was not her way anymore, she realized. The hall was eerily still.

Poe caught Sainvire’s eyes and smiled.

“Is that all?”

“I think so,” said Sainvire. He looked strangely at Poe.

“That was kind of easy.”

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“Yeah. Too easy,” he said. “Poe, do you realize you’re still holding that frying pan?”

Poe’s right hand was indeed still holding the pan over her chest like she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. The vampire hunter giggled and dropped the pan. “Stupid m—”

She imagined hearing the shot coming from far away. But what really tested her ear was when the steel-tip bullet that had been dipped in garlic oil hit her in the chest and punctured her Kevlar.

Ouch
, Poe thought. She fell on a wooden bench.

“Poe!” cried Sainvire. She vaguely heard. At the stage appeared a score of vampires who prevented Sainvire from reaching Poe. Fueled by the need to see her, the vampire fought eight dead with the speed of Joseph, the accuracy of Poe, and the desperation of a man whose lover had just been shot. Within a minute all eight undead and halfdead were on the stage at his feet. Those he killed weren’t clothed in designer clothes, Trench’s signature bodyguard swag.

They were off the streets and lacking any tangible powers.
Trench must’ve been hurting to hire these
half-starved vamps.
Before Sainvire could take flight, the familiar sardonic voice of Quillon Trench stopped him.

“Funny, isn’t it, Kaleb?” Trench said. A white and black scarf covered most of his face. He walked out to the stage. “Who would’ve thought that I could transform a guttersnipe like her into a lady?”

“Fuck you, Trench. Poe doesn’t need dressing,”

said Sainvire. His eyes blazed with hatred. “She’s the best out of all of us.”

“She is that. It was no surprise, I suppose, that I fell in love with her like you did.”

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“Having her tortured by other men in front of you is not love, asshole,” growled Kaleb. “It’s called a fetish.”

Trench snorted. “Whatever you say, Kaleb.

Either way, I’m done. She killed most of my people, and those I sent to investigate the beach areas haven’t returned. Even the custodians are gone.”

“I’m going to kill you now, Quillon, because you’re on Poe’s time right now,” he said. His nails lengthened twelve inches.

Quillon laughed. “I can’t fight you. I have very weak powers. I’m just a brain with plans. Besides, without beautiful people and the love of sweet Poe around me, what else is there but the apocalypse?”

He raised his arms and nodded for Sainvire to finish him.

Sainvire felt rage for the man who’d altered Poe forever. As he raised his sharp nails to tear Quillon limb from limb, a shot rang out and the master vampire called Trench fell truly dead on the concert hall stage with a bullet between the eyes.

Perplexed, Sainvire looked up to where Poe had lay. The girl had shot Trench to a permanent death.

By the time Sainvire reached her, the Beretta had fallen between the balcony seats.

Poe’s eyes were glazed with pain. “Did I get him?” Poe asked weakly.

“Dead center, love,” Sainvire answered. He withheld desperation from his voice. For the first time in decades his hand shook. He gently tugged open the Kevlar and pulled it off her shoulders.

“Good. Said I was gonna kill him. Kaleb. I can barely breathe,” Poe said, gasping. “Think I’m done for.”

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“Don’t say that,” said Sainvire with acid.

“You’re not leaving me, young lady.” He had the urge to cry despite the fact that vampires could not shed tears. He lifted her black shirt soaked with blood and studied the wound above her left breast. The back of the bullet was visible. The shooter had fired from the stage. Sainvire bit his lower lip. He prayed that the bullet was of a low caliber. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known what do.

“How bad?” she asked tiredly.

“Just a scrape, Poe. Just a scrape.” Sainvire removed his coat and black button-down shirt.

“Why are you naked?” asked Poe in dazed. Even when dizzy, Poe could see the vampire’s muscular build.

“I’m going to use my shirt as a bandage. You shouldn’t talk, Poe. Conserve your strength,” he answered, concealing any hint of panic. As if sweat beaded his forehead, Sainvire wiped his brow with his arms. With his index finger and thumb he extracted the bullet. Blood poured out of the tiny wound like a tipped bottle of wine. The vampire stoppered the flow with his shirt, keeping firm pressure until the blood stilled.

Poe, looking ashen, had fainted. “You have to live, Poe,” he said quietly. “Our lives wouldn’t be the same without you.”



Sainvire stepped outside of Disney Hall half-naked and carrying Poe in his arms. The girl was wrapped up in her lover’s clothes. The vampire cursed.

Outside stood fifty vampires. “Look. I don’t have 338