Chapter Twenty-three – Jack
Chapter Twenty-three
Jack
The sound of the guns were deafening and the Rojo were fucking pissed.
My silver knife was lost in Arnulfo’s back, and three of the Rojo were coming for me.
The first one I dodged, the second one I gut punched, and the third—I just went for his balls, using them to pick him up in the air and chucked him across the room, hopefully through a bullet’s path.
Two Rojo got picked off by a mounted gun, running for the exits—confirming that Maya was rocking silver ammo—but those gun’s range was limited by the slots they were forced to shoot through—all they could really control was the main door.
The mounted guns kept up steady bursts, and I wondered how many Rojo were outside, trying to get in.
A Rojo came up on me with a knife. I sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist, bowled him over, and found Maya fighting just as hard as I was, half-nakedly beside me.
“Where’s your fucking help?” she shouted at me, wading through the Rojo, trying to save her people.
“Don’t know!” I shouted back, wondering if the Faithful had left us here to die.
Her bloodslaves were performing admirably under the certain death circumstances, but I’d heard more than one scream end poorly, and could scent the fresh blood in the room.
They’d boosted the seat cushions inside the alcoves and pulled out weaponry—but Maya was too smart to give a nearby human a silver-loaded gun, so they were reduced to shooting at creatures like myself who were nigh unstoppable, filling them full of lead.
Maya pounced on a Rojo whose back was turned, twisting his head clean off, but there were still five of them left—five and a half, if you counted the one sucking all the blood out of a corpse, trying to heal himself from a gaping chest wound.
Another spotted Zevvi, still trapped, and started lurching for her on half a leg.
“Oh no you don’t.” I leaned over and caught the back of his suit, throwing him down, stomping on his neck until I’d severed his head from his body. Then I ran over to her and hoisted the nearest table up, flipping it carefully over her, hopefully giving her slightly more cover.
As I turned I saw the few Rojo who’d been missing in action—guarding Camila I’d assumed—finish whatever it was they were doing.
She dropped, free, draped in metal—while they hauled the board she’d been strapped to up and ran over to use it as a bullet-block to help the Rojo waiting outside get in the door.
Maya saw what I was seeing and shouted, “Fuck!” at the top of her lungs—just as Faithful started pouring in from somewhere behind me, Sam at their head.
“Jack,” said a familiar voice.
I turned—and Paco was there. My Paco. The man who’d saved me, once upon a time—the man I loved. I stepped over a dusted Rojo’s corpse and kissed him, hard, pressing all of my body against his, needing to feel him, smell him, taste him, now.
And then I heard a gunshot and felt a stabbing pain flow through my body and into Paco’s. I whirled and saw Maya with a gun. She’d fucking shot me on purpose—and through me, Paco—comingling our blood. “Jesus-Christ-now-is-not-the-time, Jack!” she shouted.
Paco touched where the bullet had hit him, where he was bleeding, and looked at the blood, then at me. “Do you need some help with all this?”
“The fuckers in the suits need to die, but try not to kill any humans.”
Paco rose up on his toes. He’d been a martial arts expert and bodyguard in his former life—he knew ways to kill people I hadn’t even dreamed of. “Copy that,” he said—and ran into the fray.
“If you fucking shoot him I will make you watch me eat you!” I threatened whomever was running the overhead guns—and then ran in after him.
I hoped—assumed—that the Faithful were stemming the flow of Rojo back into the outside world, because all of a sudden their numbers became finite, and started to dwindle, as Paco tore through enemies, ruthlessly.
I paused in my own fighting to watch him—it was like watching a dancer dance, the way he flowed back and forth, precisely striking before regathering himself to strike again.
I knew he’d been good at his job before, but my gift of vampirism had made him glorious.
I surveyed the room. The staccato of the overhead guns had stopped—this room was ours—and it sounded like the next was becoming so, too.
“Jack?” I heard a nervous voice call my name, and crouched to find its owner. Camila, my lay from earlier in the evening, crouched nakedly, eyes wide.
“For the record, I always knew you were a professional,” I said. I reached a hand out to her, and she timidly took it, letting me help her stand. The chains they’d left around her complimented her figure, hitting her at neck, waist, and ankle.
Then, from the next room, the sound of Sam’s voice was a demanding shout. “Jack!” I tensed, and grabbed Camila, putting her over my shoulder for safekeeping.
I ran into the next room with the main stage and found the Faithful were arranged around the stage like so many patrons, all staring intently up at where Paco had gotten the best of one of them.
One of the Faithful was glowing, another held bolts of fire, a third was breathing mist, and several chairs were hovering nearby Sam.
Paco had a very young man, all dressed in white, pressed against him, both of them facing forward, both of them breathing hard. I could see Paco fighting to stay in control—and how the delicious fear of the Faithful boy was making that hard for him.
“It’s his first night!” I shouted as explanation and dropped Camila to the ground, hearing her squeal as she landed.
My first night had involved a lot of fighting—but I’d been able to eat everyone I’d fought.
Even then there’d been a period of time I’d blacked out for, when my hunger had ruled me without conscious thought.
Poor Paco’d spent the last fifteen minutes killing Rojos who turned to dust—it was amazing that he’d bested his hunger this long.
I leapt up on the stage, bodily blocking him from their weapons, and Paco snarled at me as I landed, like a dog growling over a bone, unable to speak with his fangs.
“I know you’re hungry,” I said, “but there’s plenty of food here, Paco. Set the boy down.”
Paco pulled the boy away from me and growled again. I could feel the tension ratchet in the room, as all the watching Faithful leaned in.
“I know. I know. You’re hungry. I get it.
” I still remembered what it felt like—how I’d found myself suddenly starving.
I wished there were a way I could make it easier for Paco, and honestly promise him that it would end.
“But we’re surrounded by those who would give blood and more, willingly.
There’s no need to taste him. He’s not one of ours. ”
Paco held the boy tighter. No one had ever tried to reason with me when I’d been slaughtering—I didn’t know what it was like. But I did know Paco. He was a reasonable man. Despite his capacity for violence, he didn’t believe in it for its own sake.
I looked out to the people on the ground, past the Faithful.
Trust Luna to not be here the only time I’d ever wanted her—and I didn’t see Camila anymore, goddammit—but the girl I’d saved, Zevvi, was watching from the doorway.
I reached out a hand for her, and she leaned back into the other room for a moment before responding.
Then she threaded through the Faithful, followed by the five other bloodslaves she’d convinced.
One by one they mounted the stage, and I could hear the mutters of the Faithful as we became a wall of bodies, blocking Paco from their possible revenge.
Zevvi looked to me. She was already pale from earlier in the night. “Stay close?” she asked quietly.
“Of course,” I said, and took the wrist of the man next to me, offering him to Paco instead.
I could see Paco sway with the effort of becoming himself again—a creature intelligent enough to know a better choice—and there was a glimmer of his old self in his eyes.
I stepped forward and put my hands on the boy, while the bloodslave next to me bravely kept his wrist out, even though it was trembling.
“Please, Paco. We’ve got this. Let us help you.”
I gently pried the Faithful boy free—and felt Paco’s urges move on to the man next to me instead, one of Maya’s. He grabbed the wrist and pulled the man in, his back to Paco’s chest, as if they were about to dance. Paco’s eyes were closed and I knew he was fighting an internal battle.
“What’s your name?” I asked the bloodslave.
“Kel,” he responded.
“Kel—Paco. Paco—Kel. We don’t eat people whose names we know, all right?”
Kel flashed me a brave smile—and then reached up, running his fingers through Paco’s hair to bring Paco’s mouth down on his neck. Paco’s teeth sank inside, as Kel panted, and I would’ve sworn I heard my lover purr.
At that, the spell was broken—the bloodslaves knew what they were doing more than I did—one of them unbuckled Kel’s pants and took his cock into their mouth, whereas one of the women started grinding up on Zevvi.
I realized those who weren’t feeding him blood would be feeding him life in other ways shortly.
I wouldn’t leave his side, I’d promised them, but I did turn around, to find several of the Faithful watching, rapt, while others averted their eyes.
Just how pure did pure have to be?
Sam stood in front of the boy Paco had captured earlier. It was telling that he’d ran to her for protection.
“Sorry about that. He’s new, as of today.”
“We’ll start his file then.” Her voice was dry and clinical. I couldn’t help but look around and realize the distinct imbalance of power in the room. We’d killed all the Rojo together, but what bound us now? Did Faithful really believe in honor amongst thieves? “His name is Paco, you said?”
“It is.”
“Are you planning on making more vampires?”