Tears of No Return (7 page)

Morgan gathered what little possessions he had, stuffed them in a small pack, and headed out the door. The lease was paid for a full year. He would head south, and only stop when he found a place that suited his needs.

But first he had a squealer to kill.

Chapter 7

Karen jumped into the driver’s seat, realizing she needed to press the brake in order for the car to start. With her foot firmly on the brake pedal, she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. Putting the gearshift in reverse, she removed her foot from the brake and stomped on the gas pedal. The Mercedes lurched backwards, slamming into the vehicle parked behind. Karen’s head flew back into the headrest. She jammed the car into drive and hit the gas again, praying the spare tire would stay on.

Sitting up and adjusting herself, Karen looked out her window to see agent McKlintock pointing a gun in her direction. Half a second later the driver-side window shattered, sending shards of glass, like dangerous confetti, over her entire body. She didn’t hear a gunshot, guessing he was using a silencer. Wasn’t that what all creepy government agents did? More bullets slammed holes into the car. She swerved right and left like a drunk driver, hoping to avoid getting hit, as fragments of glass spilled out of her hair and tumbled around inside the car. She felt a searing pain like she’d been cattle-prodded on her left knee. Heart in her throat, she glanced down and saw her pant leg was bloody and torn. She began flexing the limb as she drove, the knee bending normally. The damage, she hoped, was minor.

With the agent behind her, she felt a slight hint of calm before the rear window exploded, the sound deafening. Karen’s dread surged back completely. The passenger side headrest exploded into puffy white clouds of fabric. The man was definitely trying to kill her.

The parking garage exited onto a narrow street. She took the turn too fast and slid sideways into a parked truck. The impact sent a jolt through her body and pain shooting down her neck. More bullets thudded the car. Karen regained her composure. She saw the man reloading and hit the gas, taking off down the street, the truck’s side mirror wrapped in a twisted embrace around hers.

She raced along the street, blowing through a stop sign, and barely missed colliding with a taxi. She needed to get control of the situation. Using her rearview mirror, she glanced back. No one was following, at least that she could tell. She drove, taking turns without purpose other than she wasn’t sure where to go. Traffic was normal for that time of day in the city and she didn’t think she had to worry about getting shot at with so many people around. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself—a bullet-ridden Mercedes was enough—so she drove as normally as her adrenaline-filled body allowed.

Twenty blocks later, she turned down a one-way street. The venue wasn’t a main artery for the city, with only the occasional vehicle passing by. Karen pulled over, waiting next to a fire hydrant. She kept watch on the rearview mirror, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a few minutes she began to calm down; her heart only beating twice as fast as normal, she thought with a humorless chuckle. She needed to think. Where to go? What to do? Melanie, her best friend. She needed to call Melanie, but didn’t want to use her cell phone. The agents might trace it.

Karen removed the phone from her purse. She held it for a moment, staring at it and thinking of all the numbers and job contacts within. She opened the back, removed the battery, and was about to throw it out of the window, but couldn’t. As long as the battery was out the phone couldn’t be traced. For now, she’d have to use payphones until she could buy a burner.

A man walking by stopped. Karen looked up. He stared at the car then at Karen, and asked if she was okay.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Looks like you been in a war, honey,” the man said, eyeing the car.

“I’m fine, really. Just wanting a little privacy.”

The man huffed, clearly offended, and walked away mumbling.

Karen flipped the visor down, stared into the mirror. She had scratches on her face and fragments of glass in her hair. Her eyes began tearing up, but she fought against the emotions as she plucked pieces of glass from her scalp. Reaching in the glove box, she grabbed tissues and wiped her face. The pain in her knee was sobering and something she could use to focus on to keep from completely losing it.

People walked past and gawked at the wreck. She needed to get out of the area before the police arrived.

As she climbed from the Mercedes, the pain in her knee worsened. With her pant leg already ripped, she was able to spread the fabric and examine the wound. The knee looked singed and burned, as if she’d laid a curling iron on it, but the bullet must have only grazed her. Karen had been lucky.

Glancing at the car, she couldn’t believe she wasn’t dead. The vehicle looked like a Swiss cheese special or something from a gangster movie after a hit. Bullet holes were everywhere, the windows blown out. The car had multiple dents and long scratches. Parts of it looked like crinkled aluminum foil; only broken shards of red and clear plastic remained of the rear lights. It was now a cop magnet and she had to leave it.

Karen got back into the car and removed the first aid kit from the glove box. She disinfected the wound with antiseptic pads, each swipe agonizing, before bandaging it up with gauze.

She pulled a fresh pair of jeans from her luggage. Ignoring the onlookers, she changed her pants, wincing from the wound to her knee. She didn’t want to block the hydrant, a stupid thing to worry about in a crisis, but she had to get away before the police or, worse, the agents arrived. She grabbed her purse and luggage and fled the scene.

Chapter 8

Morgan headed to Thomas’s home, a rundown apartment complex located in one of the worst neighborhoods in Poughkeepsie. After pounding on the door and receiving no reply, he broke in. Thomas wasn’t home.

Thomas Agorik was a lowlife, even for a vampire; a scavenger that preyed on the weak and troubled. He enjoyed any and all narcotics and had a nasty habit of picking up teenagers—runaways and whatnot—and draining them dry in secluded places while they pleaded for their families. Morgan had wanted to kill the bastard upon meeting him, and almost had, but the junkie proved resourceful, becoming Morgan’s confidential informant in the vampire world. Thomas kept Morgan informed of the affairs of the underground community, a part of the vampire world Morgan didn’t spend a lot of time among.

Morgan was part of the undead community—vampires believing he was one of them—but like all communities, there were class levels. He dealt mostly with the upper echelon and middle-class, not so much with the underground, those lower-than-werewolf-shit vampires. Thomas kept those crazed and animal-like creatures of the night as associates at arm’s length. Morgan knew a piece of shit like Thomas could only be trusted for so long before things turned ugly, which was exactly what had happened.

After checking around, Morgan was informed by more than one lowlife vamp he had threatened to kill that Thomas was the one responsible for the hunters cornering him.

The Morses had captured Thomas and, knowing he was going to die, he gave them information on Morgan, a vampire high on the Morses’ list, in exchange for letting him go.

Morgan checked all the local homeless shelters. He didn’t find Thomas, but eventually came upon his sought after target in the area of Warya’s Park, a short distance from the Poughkeepsie Bridge. Morgan noticed other bloodsuckers in the area, but none were grouped too closely together; all preoccupied with cattle of their own and not wanting to share.

Thomas was chatting with a young redhead no more than sixteen years old. She looked ragged and had trackmarks on her arms—definitely a runaway involved with drugs and most likely prostitution.

Morgan knew Thomas’s game: comfort the individual, offer whatever he or she wanted, whether money, food, drugs, or a place to stay, then get the human alone and spend hours listening to their pleas while he sucked them dry.

Morgan approached Thomas. The fiend took notice.

“Well, well,” Thomas said.

The girl turned around to look at Morgan. Her eyes were glassy and red.

“Never thought I’d see you down here with us lowlifes,” the vampire chuckled.

“I bet,” Morgan said, his tone even. He took a long hard look at the girl. “Get lost, and I mean leave the area.”

The girl hesitated, lost in Morgan’s stare.

“Baby,” she said, speaking to Thomas, “who’s your friend?”

“I said now,” Morgan reiterated.

“Get out of here, sweetie,” Thomas said. “I’ll catch up with you later.” The vampire watched her run off, then looked at Morgan. “What’s with the hostility, man?”

“What were you saying?”

Thomas smirked. “I’m surprised to see you is all. Especially in these parts.”

Morgan took a step closer. “I’ve never had a reason to come here, but I need your help with something.”

Thomas feigned surprise and asked what it was that Morgan, the great and powerful vampire, needed his help with.

Morgan glanced around suspiciously. “We need to talk privately. The matter is delicate in nature.”

The two walked behind a copse of evergreens for cover. Morgan was certain he could rip the vamp’s head off before Thomas managed to scream.

“What’s this matter?” Thomas asked.

Morgan stepped to within an inch of Thomas’s chest. Smiling, teeth clenched, he grabbed the vampire by the throat and wrapped his fingers tightly to prevent Thomas from screaming out. Ready to remove Thomas’s head, Morgan was grabbed from behind.

A burly member of the undead pinned Morgan in a bear hug. Next to him stood another vamp, just as large. He saw Thomas smiling, a look of satisfaction on the vampire’s face. “Now, now. Were you just about to end my undead ass?”

Morgan glowered at Thomas.

“You should know how I operate. I’m never alone. Working in a pack these days, like the wolves. Have to be careful with the new rules implemented on us by The Nation.”

“You’re a child murderer and bringing unwanted attention to us,” Morgan said, deciding to play along and acting as if The Nation, a vampire group set in place to keep their existence secret, had ordered him to kill Thomas.

“So, the Vampire Nation sent you to kill me?”

“That’s right.
Boys
,” Morgan said, referring to the two oversized vamps, “this here’s a dead man and anyone standing with him is a dead man, too. I suggest you let me go and leave these parts.”

Both vamps started laughing.

“I don’t think so, Morgan Hughes,” Thomas said. “I’ve helped you countless times and this is how you repay me?”

“Let’s not talk about the
help
you’ve given me. We both know how you saved your own ass with the hunters.”

“Oh, so they did find you?” Thomas joined in on the laughter with the two behemoths.

Morgan broke the other vampire’s grip, jumped up and launched a crushing kick to Thomas’s groin.

The lowlife vampire fell to the ground, howling in pain. Morgan got his right arm free. Reaching back, he shoved his fingers into the large vampire’s mouth and yanked down, ripping the U-shaped bone from the vamp’s face. Blood gushed like a burst water main. Morgan opened his mouth wide, craned his neck around, and began lapping up the vampire’s blood.

The other bloodsucker grabbed Morgan, lifted him up, and slammed him on the ground. The impact hurt, but Morgan had felt much worse and simply rolled away before springing to his feet with feline grace. He saw Thomas slowly recovering.

“You’re going to pay for that,” the remaining large vampire said, looking at his friend lying on the ground and bleeding out. The hefty bloodsucker charged at Morgan.

With fresh vampire blood coursing through his body, Morgan easily sidestepped the oaf’s attack, grabbed the vampire’s arm, and tore it free. The undead creature howled in pain, his eyes glued to the severed limb in Morgan’s hands.

“Want this back?” Morgan asked, tossing the appendage at its owner. The vampire raised its remaining arm to catch the limb. Seizing the moment, Morgan launched himself at the undead creature. Landing on the vampire, he sunk his fangs into the thing’s neck and, like a wild animal, tore away flesh. Blood gushed into Morgan’s mouth.

As Morgan sucked the vampire dry, Thomas attempted to sneak away.

“Going somewhere?”

Thomas halted and turned around. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m the new and improved version of your kind. Actually, I’ve been around for a while now.” And with that, Morgan leaped forward and ripped the heart from Thomas’s chest, leaving the body to bleed out and dissipate like a forgotten memory. He would drink none of the scumbag’s blood.

Chapter 9

Karen arrived at Melanie’s apartment building a short time after leaving the Mercedes. She stood outside the entranceway, contemplating whether or not to enter the building. Glancing around, she looked for anyone odd or out of place. The sidewalks bustled with pedestrians while numerous cars and trucks drove down Second Avenue. She didn’t notice anything unusual, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t being watched.

Karen opened the door to the building and headed inside.

“Hello, Ms. Lakemire,” said Bill, the building’s desk clerk.

“Hi,” Karen replied, giving a gentle wave as she proceeded past the man to the elevators. Melanie had given instructions to the front desk that Karen be permitted access to the apartment anytime she wished.

She exited the elevator on the twenty-first floor, trepidation in her step. The agents’ voices remained fresh in her mind. Taking long and counted breaths, she worked on calming down. Were they at Melanie’s place, too?

She listened intently as she crept along the hallway. Upon reaching the apartment, she placed her ear to the door but didn’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood in her head. She wanted desperately to call Melanie, see if she was home, but couldn’t risk using her cell phone for even a minute.