Kissed by Darkness(4)

Most vamps didn’t give a shit what was for dinner, as long as it was human and breathing. Terrance had a particular taste for college girls, preferably ones with big boobs and long blond hair. I’d had to kill more than one of his snacks after they’d ended up turning vampire. Fortunately, he also went for ones that were less than smart, so killing them once they’d turned was fairly easy. Intelligence, or lack thereof, seemed to carry over into undeath.

Anyway, the night before, Terrance had pretty much gone through half the girls in the sorority and the dean of the university wasn’t real happy about it. It didn’t look so good when your entire cheerleading squad got eaten by the undead. He’d hired us to get rid of his problem, which meant he really hired me to get rid of his problem, me being the only one of the three of us who actually killed vampires for fun and profit.

Terrance lived in the basement of an old apartment building in southeast Portland. Nice and dark and only tiny little windows high up in the walls, easily blocked by a few sheets of plywood. It was nearly noon, so if I could get the plywood off the windows, it’d brighten the place up and make it easier to deal with Terrance. Then I could go home and get some much-needed rest before tonight’s meeting with Cordelia Nightwing. What the hell kind of name was Cordelia Nightwing, anyway?

The building had a security entrance, but that wasn’t exactly a problem. I used to live in one of these old places. I didn’t bother pushing any of the buzzers; I just waited until someone came out then I grabbed the door and walked in like I belonged there. It’s amazing how many supposedly secure places you could brazenly walk right into as long as you acted like you had every gods-given right to be there.

The door to the basement stairs was on the right, so I swung it open and tried to take the stairs two at a time. I say tried because at barely 5‘5”, taking stairs two at a time was a near impossibility. I gave up and just took them fast, using the handrail to propel me downward.

The basement was cold and dank. Under the odor of mildew and laundry soap was another darker smell: the stench of the undead.

I couldn’t really explain that smell because it wasn’t actually real. Vampires didn’t generally smell any different than living humans. If you were to dance with one in a nightclub, you wouldn’t know the difference, except that a vamp would possibly be a lot paler and maybe try and chomp on your neck. But I could smell the difference. It was something to do with my abilities and it was more a metaphysical smell than a physical one. It was one of my least favorite side effects of the virus that changed me but a very handy talent to have when hunting down vampires.

Terrance’s room was the old maintenance man’s room from back when they used to hire guys full time to live in the basements of apartment buildings to keep the boilers going. Nowadays they either turned them into storage or rented them cheap to people who liked living in caves. Vamps loved them.

A thick metal door marked “B” stood between me and Terrance. Definitely a deadbolt or twelve. I knew he couldn’t sense me, being in that state of sleep the undead have which was closer to death than sleep.

The basement was deserted, so after I peeled the plywood off the narrow windows high on the opposite wall I got out my tools and went to work on the deadbolts. I’d rather have just got out a gun and blasted the door open, but despite what they showed in the movies, that was actually a really stupid idea. Bullets had a tendency to bounce off things like metal doors and cement walls and wind up places you didn’t intend for them to go. Like your own leg. Or head. Not exactly the best way to get into a locked room. Plus it upset the neighbors.

So I took the slow and boring route, opening the door like any normal person would. With a locksmith’s tools. Kabita had insisted that both Inigo and I learn to pick locks properly. Well, Inigo didn’t actually need to learn. That boy had skills. Not sure I wanted to know where he picked them up.

I popped the last lock, packed away my tools, then with UV gun in hand I slowly swung the door open. It was black as pitch inside the room, the only light coming from the tiny windows outside in the hall. Couldn’t see a damn thing, but I could feel Terrance across the room, still deep asleep. A vamp won’t usually wake during the day. Not at noon, certainly, unless he’s incredibly old or incredibly strong. Terrance was neither, so I figured I was pretty safe.

I was wrong.

I approached the camp bed, gun drawn, when a hand shot up and wrapped around my throat. Shit. I struggled to breathe, but the hand was too tight and squeezing tighter. I didn’t have time to think about how on earth a two-bit vamp like Terrance had the power to wake in the middle of the day; I was too busy fighting for my life as his other hand gripped the wrist of my gun arm so I couldn’t shoot him. Double shit.