27. Scotty #2
A distant cry that sounds like Juli’s echoes somewhere in the distance.
There’s smoke billowing from down the street, and I’m already running, not even bothering to think or consider I could be running into a trap.
A vampire’s fight-or-flight response is stronger than a human’s, making us unstoppable creatures of destruction.
Whether it’s our enemy’s destruction or our own doesn’t even matter, so long as something is getting torn to shreds.
When I turn the corner on yet another dead street, I’m greeted by the sight of fire blazing … everywhere. My jaw falls open.
Every building on this street is caught in the blaze, and in the center of the street is an enormous pile of burned bodies.
Wait, burned bodies?! The fact that they haven’t exploded into ash upon their death can only mean one thing.
I bite down on my bottom lip so hard I can taste the tangy copper of my blood as it fills my mouth.
Then I notice the paladins tossing corpses onto the pile.
Those sentient walking trash can motherfuckers.
Yup. I fucking knew something wasn’t adding up, here.
They’re worse than the Helsings for one reason and one reason only: Zealotry.
They’re evangelists who worship Reagan, one of the Seven and goddess of the material world.
They hate everyone who isn’t a Reagan fanboy like them.
For reasons unknown to me, when a paladin kills either a demon or vampire, their bodies remain behind.
If you’re a demon, you go back to Hell where you’re reincarnated.
No harm, no foul. But if you’re a vampire and you’re dusted?
I… I don’t actually know what happens. No one does.
Some vampires believe our souls were left behind in Hell when we were turned, so when we die, we simply return to the Underworld.
Others have theorized that upon our turning, our souls were cast into oblivion.
A small minority believe we still have our souls, but I’m not that optimistic.
I spot a paladin lumbering over with a gallon of gasoline in my peripheral vision. He pours it all over the place, and I wince.
No, no, no.
My head throbs. Juliette could be on that pile. Her corpse could be charred and smoldering right now underneath—
I can’t think like that. Instinctively, I charge the paladins, my fangs bared.
The paladins are caught unawares, and when I leap onto the back of the one holding the gasoline, he doesn’t have time to react. Fighting isn’t exactly in my skill set, but instinct takes over, and I snap the paladin’s neck before his buddy has a chance to pull out his sword.
That’s the thing about these dorks: they still use physical weapons like clubs, maces, and swords. Some of them use crossbows for vampire hunting, but the one in front of me doesn’t have one. Perfect.
I jump down from the paladin’s back, allowing him to hit the pavement, dead. Then I charge the next paladin. This one is ready for me, though. He parries my assault with his sword just in the nick of time, and I stumble away to the side.
“Enough, vampire. You are outmatched and outnumbered,” the paladin yells in a nauseatingly patronizing voice. I roll my eyes and hold out my claws.
“Where is Juliette?” I demand, and lick the blood from my lips.
I can’t see the paladin’s expression since it’s covered by that stupid helmet, but his hesitation tells me he’s confused. Good. I can use their confusion to my advantage.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about, monster. Another vampire scum, like you?” the paladin says, pointing his sword at me. “Probably already dead and in one of the piles, if we’re lucky. Good riddance.” He tosses his head back to laugh. “Do you know what happens when we burn you?”
The paladin thumps his chest like some goddamn insane gorilla, then points at me as though issuing a challenge. “Your tormented souls remain inside your miserable bodies to burn, twisted in agony for eternity. To watch the rest of the world pass you by while your bones blacken.”
No. That can’t be true. He’s fucking with me. Because that’s what they do, right? They fuck with anyone who isn’t them and godsdammit, I’m getting really tired of these dumbasses. I charge at him, claws extended, aiming for his neck.
Again, he’s ready for me, and lifts his fist to meet my chin. I’m thrown back and land in the smoldering pile of corpses. Dammit, I could peel off my own skin right now, I’m so consumed with rage.
“I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bastard!” I wipe the blood from my bottom lip before throwing myself up to charge him again.
The paladin lifts his sword, and I’m about to impale myself on it when a voice cuts through the crackling flames.
“Scotty! Stop!”
I slam the brakes, stop mere centimeters from the blade, and glance over my shoulder.
On the rooftop of an apartment building stands Jules …
but she looks different. A pair of leathery bat wings extend from her shoulders, and I might be seeing things but her eyes are bigger.
Like, the size of dinner plates if those plates were also portals to the void. Shit. Another Nosferatu power, I guess.
“Juli?” My throat bobs as I’m distracted by my girlfriend looking like a badass. Her building is consumed by the blaze, too. My badass sweetheart who I definitely haven’t had enough time with yet, so we need to get the fuck out of here. Before our luck runs out.
But that fucking distraction was all the paladin needed, and he sends the steel blade straight into my heart.
The agony is immeasurable as my head spins and the world shifts out of focus.
Juliette screams for me again. I swallow thickly, and she poofs and rushes forward in a cloud of smoke that consumes both me and the paladin.
I can’t see a damned thing, just like the last time she enveloped me in her smoke.
The paladin lets out a gurgled scream, shrieking expletives and slurs until the telltale sound of bones crunching renders him silent. I sink down to my knees, and I’m about to topple to the ground when a pair of hands grabs my shoulders.
Dark clouds envelop me. For a moment, I’m convinced that this is what true death looks like. Pitch black nothingness. But then gentle, slender fingers caress my cheeks and lips, and I’m pulled onto Juliette’s lap.
“Scotty.” Juliette’s voice brings me back to the moment. When I open my eyes, I find hers looking back at me with such tenderness and concern I swear I feel my heart beating. Dying makes you delusional, it seems.
“Hey, love,” I murmur. A hacking cough follows, and blood dribbles from my mouth. “I thought you were dead.”
Juliette strokes my hair and leans down to place a kiss on my forehead. “We’re both dead, you silly andouille.”
“Yeah, but I meant like … dead-dead. Super dead,” I say before coughing up half my lung again.
I clap my palms over my chest and let out a wheeze.
“Don’t think I’ve got much longer in this world, though.
I’m sorry. I said I’d show you the world, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to make good on that promise. ”
Juliette’s eyes are wet with tears of blood, and even though I’m the one lying here dying, all I can think about is comforting her and wiping them away.
“Juli, promise me something. Please.”
Her eyes widen as more crimson droplets roll down her cheeks. “Anything,” she whimpers.
My vision grows dimmer. This isn’t what I thought death would feel like. For one thing, I thought I’d explode into ash by now. And two, this feels a fuck ton more peaceful. Like lying in a pillow of snow and drifting off to sleep.
“Promise me you’ll leave the sewers. You need to live above ground, not secluded from the rest of the world,” I rasp, my voice barely a whisper.
Juliette lets out a pained sob as she strokes my hair again, but she nods. “I promise.” Her voice cracks, and several droplets of blood fall onto my face.
“Don’t cry, beautiful,” I rasp, and lift my hand to wipe away her tears. “Don’t cry.”
Then everything around me turns dark, and I can no longer hear Juliette’s anguished cries as I slip out of consciousness. Forever.
I wake to the sound of a drip, drip, drip. That same familiar dripping sound of the sewers—the spot in the ceiling on the other side of our salon that gets worse when it rains.
If this is heaven, then I suppose it’s not so bad. I was kind of hoping for sunshine and an endless supply of beer, but this works, too.
But then I hear humming, and I bolt upright.
I grab the wool blankets covering my body and pull them up to my face.
Looking around, I notice the familiar candles on the crates and the phonograph in the corner.
I’m back in the salon, but how? I’m supposed to be super dead right now.
The last thing I remember was being staked by that paladin and Juliette sobbing over my body.
“Shhh, mon couer. I see you’re finally awake,” Juliette says as she moves to my side and dabs my forehead with a damp washcloth.
I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so dry it could be used as kindling. Fuck me, I’m supposed to be dead, right? That’s what happens to a vampire who gets staked through the heart.
“H-How?” I finally croak out.
Juliette drops the damp cloth into the bowl of water and worries her lip. I eye the bowl and furrow my brow, horrified by the implication.
“It’s not sewer water,” she says, reading my mind. “It’s fresh. From a bottle.”
I stare at her blankly. This doesn’t make any sense.
“From the store on the corner,” she adds. “I enthralled the man behind the counter to give me some.”
Got it from the corner store? Look at my baby girl, all grown up and going to the shops by herself.
Smiling, I push myself up to sit, but the pang in my chest almost takes me out again.
When I look down at myself, I notice that I’m completely naked save for the bandages wrapped tightly around my chest. It hurts, yeah, but it definitely doesn’t feel like I’m dying anymore.
“I thought I was dust,” I mutter.