Underground Vampire (26 page)

“Exactly how long have I belonged
to you and when did you intend to tell me?” he asked, carefully looking into
the rubble of an abandoned store.  “It seems like the kind of thing we
should have discussed.”

Exasperated, Arabella stopped
moving forward and, facing Jesse, whispered, “Would you please stop
talking?  You’re making as much noise as Ragnar and look what happened to
him.”

Jesse turned and stepped across the
walkway so that he was nose to nose with her.  Waving his handgun he
whispered, “Thank you for the courtesy of being concerned about my physical
welfare; I’m just saying you might have shown me the same thoughtfulness about
my feelings.”

“This is not the time or place to
have that conversation,’ she whispered, trying to keep her voice down.  As
emphasis she swung her katana in a perfect overhead cut, “We are in the middle
of a war zone.”

“It didn’t stop you from announcing
it back there,” Jesse pointed back down the corridor with the .45.  “It
might have been nice if you told me first before you announced it to the
world.”

“I was trying to protect you from
Prunella, otherwise it might have been,” Arabella paused for a moment
struggling to find the right word, “awkward.”

“Is there anything else you haven’t
told me about our relationship?” he asked, smirking a bit now that he was in
control.

“Don’t push it,” she said, “and
it’s not a relationship.”

“Ownership, right?” he replied,
drawing it out into a long sarcastic comment.

She flashed off, appearing fifty
feet down the corridor, “Are you coming?”

Jogging after her Jesse gave her a
loud, “Yes ma’am.”

“I could learn to dislike you very
easily.”

“My only thought is to serve.”

“Good, start serving, stop
talking.” She barked and when he replied, “Ouch,” she immediately softened it
with, “please,” and he smiled at her as they continued down the walk, she on
the right, he on the left.

Entering the Square, Arabella
relaxed.  It was apparent that their arrival was a total surprise. 
They swept down the middle of the street, weapons casually displayed. 
Vampires gaped open mouthed as the Queen, surrounded by her Guard, came out of
the side passage. The fact that she had avoided the main boulevard was not lost
on the onlookers, who stood as one as she approached, some bowing in the
European tradition while the more recent American-bred Vampires began clapping
at her entry, picking it up as she marched down the middle of the avenue. 

Arabella grudgingly admired the old
girl as she paraded along, her elegance, grace and dignity; she walked alone,
even though her guard was on each side, very much the unconcerned, absolute
ruler out among her subjects.  When she reached the Olympia, unctuous
toadies wheeled a horrendous gold gilt chair through the front doors,
positioning it at the top of the stairs.  Not quite a throne, it was
nonetheless the most ornate baroque chair one could imagine, suitable only for
a moment such as this, Arabella thought.  

“Nice chair,” chimed in
Jesse.  “Maybe you could get one, put it in the living room, just for me.”

“Hideous, isn’t it,” she replied,
speaking without moving her lips like a ventriloquist.

The Queen assumed her throne, for
there really isn’t another way to describe it, assuming the regal pose and
attitude reserved for those who truly believe they were born to rule.  A
line quickly formed and shuffled forward.  She greeted each in turn as the
loyal subjects they were, dispensing smiles of appreciation and nods of
encouragement, as if there wasn’t a revolution in progress and Vampires weren’t
being slaughtered in the streets. 

If any harbored fantasy of
lese-majesty they kept it to themselves, either because of her overbearing
personality or, more likely, because of the guard lurking about.  Unlike
the Swiss Guard in pantaloons and funny hats guarding the Pope, her guard was
combat ready, some with protective body armor others with swords, all searching
the crowd the way a lion examines the brush for a newborn wildebeest.

Arabella watched as Ismaeli
wandered over from his post outside Blood Simple and got into the long
line.  The Guard stiffened as he approached, no doubt envisioning some of
the old blood and gore right there on the front steps of the only 5-star
Vampire hotel in the world.  He shot a broad wink at her and shot the
manly nod to Jesse, who responded with the locker room nod that guys who know
and like each other adopt. 

The courtesies over, Arabella sat
back as the Guard casually inched closer to the line, acting like they had
nothing better to do, while everyone else in the Square inched back out of the
kill zone in case anything untoward started.  Stepping forward, Arabella
whispered, “Sit tight,” to Jesse and the Indian then strolled across the Square
to the line where she casually took the arm of the giant Tongan.

“Ah Miss Arabella, come to kill me
on this fine day?”   

“Not today my friend and not
tomorrow, either, I hope.”  She smiled the full beautiful smile that made
Jesse’s heart beat a little faster and said loud enough to be heard throughout
the square, “I’m here to pay my respects to the Queen; will you be my escort?”

“Of course,” the Tongan bowed, “it
would be my pleasure.”  So together they stood in the line, ignoring the
Guard compressing around them, as confident and calm as only the innocent can
be.  Upon reaching the Queen, Arabella actually curtsied, which Jesse
thought was quite admirable considering the top she wore over her skin tight
black leggings was kind of short so when she went down it really showed off her
legs and butt. 

Rising from the curtsey, Arabella
turned, placing her hand on Ismaeli’s arm, saying, “Your majesty,” oh, how the
Queen liked the silly pomp, “I’d like to present Ismaeli of the patrimony of
Llewellyn; you may not have met him yet.”  The introduction was a risk on
her part as Llewellyn had been made by Oliver, so technically Ismaeli was of
the traitor’s line.  But to mention that name in these circumstances would
have been gauche if not dangerous if the Queen decided to make a statement and
remove someone’s head. 

Beaming, the Queen leaned forward,
apparently inspecting the geometric patterns inscribed on the giant’s beautiful
brown scalp, and began chatting about how long it had been since she’d been
here and how she’d have to make more of an effort, especially as there were so
many faces that were new to her.  If there were ever an invitation for
those who hadn’t yet done so to announce their fealty and publicly acknowledge
allegiance this was it, and the reception line grew longer as young Vamps
streamed out of the bars and restaurants anxious to be counted on the right side. 

Around the edges, the Guard kept
careful score, noting those who didn’t rush to kneel or did so without
appropriate enthusiasm.  Seemingly oblivious, the Queen received them all,
fixing their names, faces and lineage in her memory for the times ahead. 
She was probably deciding who to terminate, thought Arabella, but so long as
she wasn’t on the list it was a good day.

Looking up the Queen scanned the
audience and, signaling to Ismaeli, called over the crowd, “Summon Jason and
tell him to bring his friends.”

Everyone flinched, wondering what
was coming next while discreetly trying to move away in case Vampires bursting
into flames was next on the agenda.  No one wanted to die because they
happened to be standing near someone the Queen decided to kill and become
collateral damage.  Ismaeli gave a formal little bow and returned to the
front door of Blood Simple, where he whispered into the hidden microphone then
stood, along with everyone else in the square, waiting for Jason.

Finally, the lacquered red door of
Blood Simple opened and Jason appeared, heading a procession of Vampires all
immaculately dressed in tuxedos wearing the shiniest shoes Jesse had ever
seen.  Their appearance caused a stir in the plaza and the line dissolved
as they drew near.  Members of the Guard blatantly pulled stakes from
under their jackets and formed up on each side, ostensibly escorting them but
looking to Jesse like prison guards.  As they reached the first step,
Prunella flashed from the side stopping Jason with an upraised hand. 

Smiling, the elegant albino
announced to all, “We come to pay our respects.”  He then bowed in the
theatrical manner he loved without it being an affectation.  The handsome
thugs slowly followed his example and began to bow, although it was apparent
that they hadn’t been bowing much lately.  One, a swarthy dark Italian
obviously not Northwest Nordic was particularly slow and managed more of a
short head bob than the required bow displaying deference and humility to his
Clan Leader.  As he raised his head to look the Queen in the face,
Prunella appeared in front of him saying, “I think you can do better than that,
why don’t you try again?” as if she was helping a newcomer at ballet. 
“That’s the best I can do,” he replied.  “Maybe you can demonstrate the
proper subservience for me, it seems more your style.” 

He was fast, very fast, and as she
raked her fingernails across his throat he pulled back so that the first cut
just severed his windpipe, the air whistling from his lungs pink misting his
front, obscuring the stake she drove into his chest, so that he looked down in
complete surprise at the wood jutting from his starched white shirt.  He
collapsed to his knees looking up at the Queen, who gazed down remarking,
“Jason, this one isn’t very respectful,” as he turned to ashes on the stones in
the middle of the square. 

“Any others,” she asked, “any
others need some lessons in manners and etiquette?”   

Jason and his gang, for that is
what they were, turtled into an impenetrable mass, stakes and blades magically
appearing as they retreated toward Blood Simple.  The Guard harried them
every step of the way, unable to penetrate the hedgehog defense.  Vampire
battles are normally a series of individual combats as Vampires flash about the
area, appearing and disappearing in a confusing jumble.  To stand still is
to die, as an enemy may flash to your front or side or back to stake your heart
or slash your neck. 

By turning turtle, a beleaguered
group can stand shoulder to shoulder, back to back, a dense, impenetrable mass
that no attacker can penetrate.  Forced to confront the turtle head on,
the two sides hacked and slashed at each other.  If the attackers
succeeded in removing a defender from the turtle, the soft underbelly would be
exposed and they could attack the group.  The turtle, by massing the point
of attack, concentrates on mowing down everything in its path.  Tactics
developed by Greek hoplites and perfected by the legions of Rome are very
effective for this type of warfare, unless someone happens to have a modern
firearm.

As it happened Jesse brought a gun,
a big one, to this knife fight.

Vampires frown on the use of guns.
It’s considered very bad form, the loud noise attracts attention; guns lack
elegance; they allow anyone, a newly made Vamp without much power, the ability
to attack an ancient and more powerful Vampire.  While the bullet most
likely won’t kill, it staggers and shocks, allowing a lesser status Vamp the
opportunity to close and stake a more powerful opponent. 

Bullying his way to the front of
the melee, Jesse calmly emptied the full clip from the .45 into the front
rank.  The loud noise and shock from Jesse’s breach of manners froze the
combatants until the Indian took the opportunity to remove the maître d’s head,
restarting the festivities.  Arabella stepped into the vacancy, her katana
slashing and hacking at the interior of the turtle.  Jesse and the Indian
stepped into the breach, one on each side, protecting Arabella’s flanks. 

Arabella, never one to miss a
golden opportunity, calmly decapitated first one and then another from the
first rank as they gave ground.  Clouds of ash from the disintegrating
Vampires blew through the air, obscuring the scene for a moment, allowing Jason
the time he needed to organize the second rank, pulling their comrades back
from the slashing blade and blazing gun and finally retreating through the door
of Blood Simple.

The Guard flashed to the door,
attempting to batter it down by brute strength.  “Can’t be done that way,”
the sonorous voice of Ismaeli opined from the side as the Vampires collapsed to
the ground injured from the impact.  Several of the Guard flashed to him,
stakes at the ready to put him down.  “Heat treated stainless door, too
strong for even Vampires to knock down,” he said.

“How do you know?” barked Prunella,
taking control of the situation.

“Ismaeli put it in and he did a
damn good job,” said the Tongan, breaking into a deep laugh.  “Even I
can’t break that door down.”

“Ismaeli, you didn’t fight?”

“No, Miss Arabella, not today, not
against the Queen.”

“Kill him,” ordered Prunella,
cleaning up loose ends.

The giant stood calmly, taking no
steps to defend himself, as the Guard edged into striking distance.

“No,” said Arabella, nonchalantly
stepping next to him, her sword still at hand, “I think I want him,” she took a
moment to appraise him then, turning to face Prunella, “never had a giant
Tongan before.” 

Prunella flashed into Arabella’s
face snarling, “You seem to be scooping up all the available men these days,
Arabella.  Are you sure you can handle them, you’ve been alone so very
long?”

“She may have him,” pronounced the
Queen, still lounging in that hideous chair, completely unruffled by the
events.  “Arabella, you will stand surety for his actions.”

“Of course,” said Arabella, dipping
her head towards the Queen.

“What a wonderful outing,” said the
Queen, rising from her chair, “couldn’t have been better, really must do this
again.” 

Toadies and sycophants scurried
about agreeing with her.  Hotel staff rushed out with brooms and dustpans
as if Vampire slaughter was just another day at the hotel.

Stepping past Prunella, Arabella
slipped her sword into its sheath and, beckoning to the giant Tongan, whispered
low so that only Prunella and those close could hear, “You should be careful
with that mouth of yours, Prunella, one of these days it could get you into
trouble.”

They made a strange parade leaving
the square, first Arabella nonchalantly strolling down the middle of the
street, followed by Jesse his gun in his hand, then the giant Indian fixing
each of their faces in his memory, then Ismaeli who had somehow managed to
scoop up several stakes and a sword from the ground.  As they disappeared
into the darkness of the tunnel he was busy stowing the arsenal under his
jacket.  Arabella walked without noticing the crowd, unconcerned as she
had her own personal army watching her back.