If you missed the first 3 installments: "Shake, Shamble & Roll", Pigskin, Pigskin PT 2.
Pigskin PT3
Hindsight being what it is and all, it was a bad idea to just think I could reach down and pick up my weapon and be done with fang boy. For reasons I can’t explain, all my training went out the window in those seconds, why I forgot everything I had learned is a mystery to me.
Just as my fingers grazed my Sig which was still securely tucked inside the vampire’s waist band, he lashed out with a martial arts kick sweeping my legs out from under me. He shot to his feet in a blur of red and black. I found myself staring up at him, a wicked grin plastered on his slightly inhuman face. This guy was like every James Bond villain wrapped up in a creepy ass cliché.
“Oh how cute...” he said with a venomous sneer “The morsel is trying to fight back”. I tried to say something snarky, but it caught in my throat like a day old biscuit. My body decided to take over for my brain who had decided to go AWOL by scuttling back on my elbows trying to put distance between me and Fangs as the room would allow.
Tough situations are nothing new to me, but this guy had me at an extreme disadvantage. If Logan could see me now, he’d be pissed, telling me “I told you so Shep”.
I hated it when he called me Shep.
He made sure to keep just enough distance so that I couldn’t do anything like the leg sweep he’d planted on me. Fangs the Sig out of his waistband and bent it in half. He then dropped it to the ground like a used napkin.
Damn, that was my favorite sidearm.
“There, no more distractions.” he said with way to much satisfaction for my taste. Not that I was keeping score, but it was now Vampire two, idiot Human zero. My mentor Logan told me there would be days like this.
I stole a glance down at my left leg, it was still bleeding and I was positive I could feel my heart beat throbbing at the base of my wound where the piece of chair was protruding. The Vampire had a feral look in his eye as he came closer to me, squatting next to my left leg. As he did, the bastard gripped the busted piece of wood, I all but screamed out in pain. My leg started throbbing like a drum beat at a Metallica concert.
“OK Morsel, if you stop lying and tell me where it is I’ll be one my way and I won’t make a meal out of you this time...”
I acted like I was deep in thought, all I had to do was give him some false info and he’d be on his way, or so I hoped. Self preservation was starting to kick in and I had to tell him something. I had no clue how bad the puncture wound on my leg was, and I really didn’t want to walk with a limp for the rest of my life. My mind raced as I tried to think up a location for this Adeptus Quadratum.
Just as I was about to open my big fat mouth, the door to the room blasted inward in a cacophony noise and oak, turning most of the door into brittle toothpicks.
Framed in the doorway was a man standing around 6 foot tall, wearing a black leather jacket. In his right hand was a sawed off pump action shot gun. Fang immediately turned to face the newcomer standing in what had been a door way. The man stepped just inside the door.
The waving lights of the few candles in the room lit up his blue and silver eyes, a deep shade of malice and regret. His blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail. He could’ve been easily mistaken for some sort of model.
It was Logan Storm, my former mentor and close friend. The Vampire tried to move on Logan, but it didn’t stand a chance. Logan pumped two quick rounds into the solar plexus of the beast which sent it through the air, splattering him against the wall.
Fangs started to get back to his feet.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Logan growled low and guttural. It’s a sound I’ve never heard come from him, and we’d been in hairier situations.
This was beyond menacing; my stomach did a barrel roll in protest.
The vampire stopped in his tracks and looked down at his chest, smoke rose from his wounds and a sickly pink blood flowed out of its chest. It wasn’t any ordinary buck shot. The shot in these shells were tiny crosses blessed by one of the fathers at The Church of St. Michael the Arch-Angel, the oldest Catholic Church in Portland. I had never seen them in action. I tried to look away couldn’t take my eyes off the melting vampire.
I shit you not, he was melting.
I’m talking, Raiders of the Lost Ark level of melting here. Then came the smell, a stench to this day I can’t explain.
Logan could tell I wasn’t taking the stench too well. “You never really get used to that.” He said with a nonchalance that comes with years of dealing with such things.
My mind raced as we tried to figure out how to get me up and out of the tunnels with the bad leg. Injuries are nothing new to me, though this one could be damaging.
Logan has never been a man of many words, but he was even more silent than I was used to. I figured the only way to break the silence was to do it myself.
“How’d you find me.?” I asked, “I told no one I was coming down here. It was a spur of the moment thing, tying up loose ends from a freshly completed case.” I jumped a bit as searing pain bit at my left leg. Logan was trying to control the bleeding enough to get me to Legacy Emanuel.
“I tracked your cell phone, because you weren’t answering my calls.” He replied never taking his eyes off my wound.
I knew he was lying.
I hadn’t brought my cell phone with me, just for that exact purpose. I mean there are other ways to track people, magical ways-but my former boss had never used thaumaturgy as far as I knew.
My head just couldn’t wrap around the idea that he had just lied to me.
END
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