25. Vameer
Vameer
Behind me there are sounds. Thuds. Footsteps. But it’s still a block away, so I keep my eyes on the window.
My heart squeezes, and I don’t do anything to keep it steady when it starts to thud. Because on the other end of my reflection, My Heart is awake.
I place my hand on the glass.
I can’t hear her, but I feel the vibration of her voice.
“Wait for me, Little Human.” A tendril of my power reverberates down my arm into the cracked surface.
“Aw, come on!” a man cries. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.”
There’s a loud clang.
“I will find you,” I whisper to my mate.
I can’t see her. But under my hand, I can feel the heat of her palm pressed against mine.
I close my eyes.
And I focus.
Her scent doesn’t travel through the glass. I know it doesn’t. Not like it did with the mirror. But it’s like I can smell it all the same.
I turn my head slightly. And that essence of sweetness intensifies.
My mouth waters.
I need her.
Apples dipped in chocolate.
Her scent. Her blood.
I fucking need her.
The power inside me stirs with a feralness I am well acquainted with.
It wants to hunt.
There’s another shout of distress. Followed by a laugh.
“I am coming for you,” I promise my mate. Then I lower my hand and step back from the window.
My direction is clear.
“It’s illegal to loiter.” A different voice this time. Still male. But full of menace. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t have a permit to burn.”
Another man laughs, and it’s chorused by something shattering.
I drag my tongue over my fang as I loosen the leash on my feral energy.
There’s always someone who mistakenly thinks they’re the scariest thing in the dark.
My gravito trembles just beneath my skin. Ready. And I turn back the way I came.
Down the block, a car is parked, angled across the empty street, still running, both front doors open, lights aimed at the parking lot.
I recognize the type of car from my night of research.
“Policía,” I grit through my teeth.
A century later, still behaving like pigs.
I let my gravito fill my footsteps, making the ground tremble with my true weight. And it’s enough to catch the attention of the two cops who are kicking over the belongings of the men who live on the street.
The barrel is on its side, the contents still smoldering, but the flames are going out. The heat is dissipating. It is not below freezing, but it is still cool. That warmth was a comfort to these men who have few.
Both officers turn to me.
Both draw their weapons.
I’m still in the shadows. The identity of what I am is still obscured by the dark.
“Freeze!” Short Cop yells.
And then… he shoots.
The muzzle flare. The noise. It’s all the warning my gravito needs.
My power flexes. Expanding just beyond my skin. Wrapping my body in an impenetrable force.
The bullet tears through my robe but flattens as it hits me.
My gravito is bulletproof.
I flex my hands at my sides.
Tall Cop shoots.
Short Cop shoots again.
I stand in place, hardly believing these animals are still firing at me. I have done nothing. Said nothing. Provoked nothing.
Several bullets fly past me, down the dark street, as several more rip holes in my robe. One ricochets off my sword, the blade unprotected. And if it is dented, I’m going to be pissed.
I’ve been attacked and cornered and threatened by policía before. But these men cannot see me. They do not know I am immune to their weapons.
Meaning, they just tried to kill me.
A growl builds low in my throat.
They just tried to kill my mate.
I take one step forward.
That is unacceptable.
There’s an audible click from one gun. Then the second.
My next footstep rattles the barrel.
Both cops fumble for something on their belts.
I take another step forward, into the glow of the car’s headlights.
The cops stagger back, their eyes widening as they stare up at me.
I reach inside my robe. “You should not shoot a man who is not threatening your life.” I pull my hand free and hold my fist in front of me.
“Though, I suppose, technically, I am not a man.” I open my palm, and gravito lifts the flattened bullets so they’re hovering six inches above my hand. “And now… I am threatening your life.”
I tilt my palm, and the small metal disks fly away from me.
The cerdos try to turn away, I’m sure to run, but they’re much too slow.
The metal embeds in the center of their thighs.
They both crumble to the ground, their screams as cowardly as their actions.
I may be new to the current world, but there will never be room for cowardice in authority.
My steps forward are relaxed while I gesture up with both hands, making my gravito pull both guns out of their owner’s hands.
The weapons float toward me, meeting me a few strides away from the fallen cops.
“D-don’t shoot us.” Tall Cop holds up one hand while he presses down on a bleeding wound.
“I’m not going to shoot you.” I don’t bother pointing out the fact that the guns are empty as I pluck them from the air. And squeeze them.
The metal groans and the plastic cracks as I curl my fingers and crush the guns into useless garbage.
Short Cop whimpers as he tries to lift something up to his mouth.
A radio.
I send out a pulse of gravito, knocking the device out of his hand.
They both look down at the dropped radio. And when they look back up, I jump to them.
The men crouching behind the barrel jolt in surprise as the two before me moan with fear.
I bend down, enunciating, making sure they understand me. “You do not want to be the reason the truce between the humans and the Alts fails, do you?”
They shake their heads frantically.
“Then we should keep this to ourselves. Right?”
They nod, just as frantically.
I stand up to my full height. “I think so too.” Then I unleash my gravito.
It wraps around them, invisible straps holding their arms to their sides as it lifts them to their feet.
They do not deserve the smoky gravito. They deserve the fear of unseen pressure.
I turn my head toward the other two men, who are still crouched behind the downed barrel.
They lift their hands.
“Morning.” I dip my chin.
“M-morning.”
“Tell me, do you know these men?”
They both nod, slowly.
“Are they good men? Or bad men?”
The older of the two huffs. “I heard both of them hit their wives.”
“You son of a—” Tall Cop starts. But my gravito wraps a tendril around his throat, shutting him up.
I turn my head to the other crouched man. “You hear that too?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve heard it. Also heard that one”—he tips his head toward Short Cop—“has restraining orders on him. From a couple of girls.”
I turn back to the cops. “Did you know that one of a vampire’s powers is knowing when a human is lying?”
They both shake their heads, the proper amount of fear in their expressions.
“We can feel it.” I flex my gravito around them, tightening. “Remember that when I ask you this question.” My power lifts them higher, until we are all eye level. “Is what they said true?”
They hesitate, but like before, they both nod.
That was easy.
I angle my head and stage-whisper to the crouching men, “We can’t actually do that.”
One of them snickers.
The Short Cop, who doesn’t have gravito around his neck, starts to speak. But I fix the oversight, silencing him.
I glance over at the police car. “Probably shouldn’t leave that here, right?”
The older guy grimaces. “We’re, uh, regulars here. This might get blamed on us if that car’s there and the cops ain’t.”
Muffled sounds of fear mix with my sigh of agreement.
I could bring the car with us, but I don’t want to add to the pollution crisis…
My palms tingle with energy. And I smirk.
That’ll work.
I turn to the vehicle and hold my arms out, angled so my hands are framing the car.
There are probably more guns and bullets in there. But if I do this right, nothing should have time to ignite.
My smirk pulls into an almost smile.
This will be my first time doing this to something with new technology. I’m a little excited.
“You might want to stay down, behind the barrel,” I say over my shoulder.
I’m ninety-five percent sure this will work how I want it to.
The cops make more muffled sounds, probably complaining that they don’t have a barrel to hide behind.
But these cops are domestic abusers who terrorize the community they are honor bound to protect. Shrapnel is the least of their problems.
I focus on the car, and the energy in my chest intensifies.
It’s heavy. Powerful.
And more than I need.
I grin. And clap my hands together.
My gravito moves with the motion. Shooting out of my fingertips, spreading to encompass the car. Then slamming in on itself as my palms meet. Narrowing in on one central point.
The sound of crunching is drowned out by the whoosh of atmosphere as the car implodes.
I release my power, and a ball of metal and pulverized vehicle parts drops to the pavement with a solid thud.
Zaps of electricity dance up my arms. My gravito feeling smug.
Turning to face the men who are wide-eyed and no longer crouching, I reach into my pocket and pull out two gold coins. “Don’t settle for less than they’re worth.”
Their eyes move from the car ball to me.
I toss the coins.
They lift their hands.
And before they’re caught, I jump, dragging my reluctant passengers into the sky.
No one hears their attempted screams as we continue to climb.
Once we are half a mile up, I pause. From here, with my eyes that can see in the dark, I can make out the waves of the ocean in the distance.
I can smell the blood that is still dripping from the cops’ thighs. But I have no interest in consuming any. They may be predators, but only to those weaker than them. They hold no true power.
Whereas my power… It feels endless.
Plus, my mate’s blood is waiting for me.
I want nothing else.
Exhaling, I turn north, toward the scent of apples, giving the cops my back.
They start their muffled screams again. But the screams disappear as my gravito flings them south, over the Gulf.
A food offering to my sea-bound friends.
I forget about them instantly, my thoughts on my Little Human as I jump away.