Strange Days (Bill of the Dead Book 1) Read online

  Sadly, any introspection was cut short as my two uninvited guests weren’t finished screwing with my expectations of reality. The one holding me up like an economy-sized piñata blinked and his eyes turned gold – irises, pupils, the whole thing.

  Double fuck!

  But that was even more impossible. The only vamps who’d been able to do that...

  “Come on, Uncle Bill. Come see the...”

  Tina’s voice trailed off as she stepped into the living room, no doubt noticing the two freaky-eyed strangers manhandling me.

  The surprise appeared to be mutual, however, as she was carrying another ball of magical energy ... this time red, yet another color from the lethal end of the rainbow.

  For a moment, it was as if time stopped. The two vampires, for lack of a better word, turned and stared at the pint-sized sorceress, all while keeping me suspended six inches off the ground like human laundry hung out to dry.

  Then a strange thing happened – or stranger anyway. Talk about a weird day.

  The orb of red death hovering above Tina’s hands winked out of existence. As it did, the arm holding me up began to shake, as if from exertion. A moment later, I was dropped to my feet.

  By the time I steadied myself, the vampire’s eyes had changed back to normal. There was a look of surprise on his face that told me it hadn’t been on purpose.

  What the?

  He turned to his friend, a fucker with medium-length brown hair and hipster goatee, then nodded. The other guy reached a hand into his jacket for something. Call me cynical, but I doubted it was an apology card.

  Though I wasn’t even remotely what one might call a competent fighter, I’d gotten into a ton of scraps during my time as the vampire Freewill. Sure, back then I’d had super strength and accelerated healing to back me up, but the important thing was I knew how to take a punch as well as when to throw one of my own.

  While the first vamp, guy, whatever was distracted, I socked him in the side of the head. Unsporting of me, but fuck that noise. History was written by the victors, and being outmanned, I needed every advantage I could get.

  Truth be told, I expected to do nothing more than break my hand. Vampires, assuming that’s what these guys were, weren’t unbeatable, but they were tough as fuck.

  Not these assholes, though. My fist impacted with a meaty thud and the blond guy stumbled into his hipster buddy, stopping him from retrieving whatever he’d been about to pull out – probably not Bible tracts.

  For a moment, I stood there as stunned as they were. Hell, it was almost like they were ... human.

  Then it hit me, albeit fortunately not as hard as the door had. Tina’s power winking out had coincided with the one vamp suddenly getting a lot weaker. Could the two be connected? More importantly, did it mean these fuckheads were now as vulnerable as anyone else?

  My punch seemed to confirm that. Problem was, I didn’t know when or even if their wonky powers would turn on again. However, I was more than aware that shit would rapidly go south for me if it did.

  I needed to turn the tables and quickly. Fortunately, I had something in my possession that was just what the doctor ordered.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I rushed forward and plowed into the duo, keeping them off balance. Even if they were no stronger than me, they still had me outnumbered ... meaning I was in for an ass kicking. But maybe I could stall them long enough.

  “Tina!” I cried, glancing her way.

  Her eyes were wide with surprise and fear. Good. She realized this wasn’t a game. That was going to be key to our survival. She stepped forward, as if to help me, but I waved her off. “No! I need you ... oof ... to go into the other room.”

  That broke the impasse on her face. She nodded and turned around.

  “No, the other room.”

  I was busy hammering my two assailants with overhand blows, more designed to keep them on the defensive than do any real damage. It wasn’t particularly impressive looking, but you use what you have. “I need you ... to ... get the thing ... I told you never to touch.”

  “But you said not to touch it.”

  Ah, gotta love kid logic. It’s only when you want them to break the rules that they become interested in following them. “I give you permission ... ouch ... to touch it. Get it for me.”

  “But...”

  “Now!”

  That got her moving. Just in time, too, as a wild swing to my shoulder sent me staggering back several paces. It hurt, but it definitely wasn’t vampire powerful, as evidenced by the fact my arm wasn’t left a bloody stump.

  That gave the first guy room to properly face me, a knot on the side of his head from where I tagged him. Not bad. Pity I’d probably have a matching bruise on my fist. Punching was easy when you’re a movie star or an undead monster. When you’re a regular dude ... not so much.

  But that was the least of my problems. The second guy – Hipster McFucknugget, let’s call him – produced a stun gun from his jacket. Not good.

  Even with vamp powers, getting electrocuted had sucked. I really didn’t care to relive that experience as a regular guy.

  “Surrender, Freewill,” Blond Crewcut said. “We won’t hurt you if you come peacefully.”

  “Peacefully?” I asked, trying to keep him between me and the one with the miniature cattle prod. “Next time, ask instead of kicking my door off the fucking hinges.”

  He actually laughed at that. “We are the true shepherds of this world, finally reawakened. Despite my words, please don’t assume your prior status holds any sway here.”

  Yep, he definitely sounded like a vampire – arrogant, sanctimonious, and with his head so far up his ass that I was surprised he could draw breath.

  “Uh huh,” I replied, stepping in. “Shepherd this, asshole.”

  As I’d learned in the past, the best time to strike was when someone was busy giving you their conceited “I’m better than you” speech. The words were barely out of my mouth when I let fly with my fist, intent on wiping the grin off his face.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Did you ever have one of those dreams where you’re fighting for your life, but you can only throw punches in slow motion, no matter how hard you try? Sadly, it was kinda like that, only I was wide awake.

  Two things happened almost simultaneously. The vamp’s eyes turned golden yellow again, telling me I was as fucked as a prostitute on two for one night. But even as I realized my punch would be ineffective, that weird feeling in the back of my head returned. With it came a strange lethargy, as if all the energy in my body had been instantly sucked away.

  Was this some weird-ass new vamp power I’d never heard of? No idea, but if so, that would make these guys far more terrifying than they already were, and they were already a good ways down that path.

  Blond Crewcut caught my fist as if it were a Wiffle ball lobbed at him by a clumsy two year old.

  Incredible pressure clamped down on my hand, causing me to cry out in a less than manly way. Yet, from the look on his face, he’d barely exerted himself.

  He shoved me away, thankfully before he could turn my hand into a sack of powdered bones, then turned to Hipster McFucknugget. “Finish this. Neutralize the Freewill and bring him with us.”

  “The girl?” Hipster asked.

  Crewcut shook his head. “Leave the Magi. But, if she tries to follow ... do what you have to.”

  Red flashed before my eyes at hearing his words, instantly pushing away the strange tiredness I felt. Of all the things I hadn’t missed about the vampire nation, the casual disregard for human life – as if people were nothing more than walking Cheetos – was at the top of the list. Sadly, it wasn’t the same type of rage that would have once propelled me to new heights of ass-kickery. No, this was just regular anger, impotent in the face of their superior...

  “I have it, Uncle Bill!”

  I spun, moving toward Tina’s voice as I did. Sure enough, my godchild had proven to be a godsend.

  She was standing
in the doorway to the third bedroom of my apartment, the one I now mostly used for storage. In her hands was a sheathed broadsword nearly as long as her body and almost too heavy for her to lift.

  But this was no crappy replica designed to hang on some LARPer’s wall.

  It had once belonged to Joan of Arc.

  And though the textbooks say she was a warrior and martyr, her true history was a bit more interesting.

  She’d been an Icon, a legendary warrior imbued with the power of faith magic, who’d once used this sword for the same thing I was hoping to do now – slay the shit out of some vampire assholes.

  THE PEN IS MIGHTIER

  Don’t get me wrong, Joan of Arc’s sword wasn’t some magical artifact I just so happened to have lying around. I’m a programmer by trade. That’s not exactly a profession that leads to Indiana Jones type treasures such as what I grabbed out of Tina’s hands.

  See, Joan hadn’t been the only Icon. History was actually full of them: legendary heroes – the Shining Ones – powered by their own belief in themselves. Achilles, for example, had been one, lending to his legend as the ass-kicker of Troy. And there were many more, all culminating in the last of their proud line – my ex-girlfriend Sheila.

  I still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t taken the sword when she’d left, but right then, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. And to think I’d almost donated it to a museum. Well, if this was about to become my life again, fuck that shit. I’d take staying alive over a tax write-off any day of the week.

  “Stay back,” I told Tina. “It isn’t safe.”

  That might have been the understatement of the century. It was the middle of the fucking afternoon on a sunny day and two vampires were in my apartment, bent on kicking my ass. If that didn’t scream emergency, then I didn’t know what did. Sadly, it wasn’t the type one called 9-1-1 for.

  The vampires grinned as I drew the blade, no doubt thinking it was little more than an oversized letter opener.

  Come on, work!

  Thankfully, those smiles were wiped off their faces once it was free of its sheath. Just the day before, it had been a grey hunk of metal – sharp as fuck, but otherwise fairly unremarkable to look at. Without knowing its true history, one might have easily dismissed it as a cheap replica from the Medieval Times gift shop. Fortunately, whatever was allowing these vampires to ... err ... vamp up, wasn’t playing favorites.

  The blade lit up with a soft white glow – the power of faith magic. I winced, waiting for the pain, but then remembered that sort of thing didn’t affect me anymore. The sword – minus the pointy parts, of course – was now harmless to me. The glow wasn’t as brilliant as when Sheila had wielded it at the height of her power, but it was enough to give me some comfort as the two vamps charged forward.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The problem with sword fighting is it looks easy. I mean, hell, you watch Conan the Barbarian once or twice and you’ll walk away thinking all you gotta do is twirl a blade around in your hands and voila – instant badass.

  Real life didn’t quite work that way.

  My sword fighting skills were possibly even worse than my proficiency as a brawler. I’d hoped to end this, but instead stood there like a doofus, waving the sword in front of me like a baseball bat as I tried to ward off the vamps.

  The only upside was that, against the undead, this blade was more like a lightsaber, guaranteed to flash fry vampires, zombies, and other paranormal assholes.

  We were at an impasse, or at least I thought we were.

  Hipster McFucknugget stepped in, trying to use his superior speed to his advantage, but I was ready for that. I countered and took a swipe at him ... bingo! Clumsy as my swing was, I managed to slice his arm and he fell back with a cry.

  My victory screech was prematurely silenced, however, as I realized that all I’d done was shred the sleeve of his shirt and leave a painful-looking, but relatively minor burn mark on his arm.

  The fuck?! This sword contained the residual power of the Icons who’d wielded it. The mere act of picking it up had once been enough to cause my hand to break out in blisters. Slicing a vamp with the blade was a surefire way to coat yourself in a fine layer of dust. That guy should have been nursing a stump instead of...

  And then I remembered these weren’t normal vamps, as if the word normal ever applied. Most vamps had pitch black eyes and tended to avoid being out in the middle of the day lest they get flash-fried. Not these guys, though.

  Near the end of things, right before we sealed the world off from magic and creatures dependent on it, a new race of vampires had emerged – one that was immune to sunlight and far less susceptible to the fires of faith.

  The thing was, so far as I remembered, there’d been only two of those neo-vamps – neither of which were these chuckle-fucks – and, afterwards, they’d both reverted to being human again like me.

  Hadn’t they?

  Yeah, one of them was a bit of an anomaly – a three hundred year old vamp who’d survived where all others had been rendered dust, their bodies aging to match their true years. All except her. But she’d been rendered powerless by the event. And even if not, she’d been a mule – okay, more of a full-on jackass – incapable of siring new vampires.

  In short, none of this made any fucking sense!

  If I was hoping for answers, though, I was in for disappointment. Hipster’s arm was already healing. I’d been hoping to burn him with the righteous fires of faith but instead all I’d done was the equivalent of holding up a lighter and asking him to play some Skynyrd.

  Blond Crewcut took advantage of my shock to slap the sword from my hands, sending it tumbling away into the corner. “I was told you might have that. There was a time when I would have trembled before it. But no more.”

  “Wait, you were told?” I asked, trying to buy time to think of ... something. At the very least I was hoping some heroic last words sprang to mind.

  No such luck. Both vamps rushed forward and were on me like a new suit. Hipster slapped me, rattling my teeth, and then Crewcut followed up with a backhand. I staggered, feeling that lethargy come over me again. That, or it could have simply been the result of being pimp-slapped. Whatever the case, a wakeup call came in the form of a fist to my stomach, doubling me over and leaving me retching.

  It was obvious they were toying with me – hitting me hard enough to make me regret being born, but not so hard to put me down for the count.

  I was starting to guess the reason why. Someone had probably ordered them to bring me in alive for whatever reason. However, vampires were assholes by nature, so these guys naturally figured they’d tenderize me a bit first.

  And they were doing a hell of a job at it. I was all but done but, as much as that sucked for me, I remembered there was someone else in the apartment – a little girl they’d already threatened to neutralize.

  Poor Tina had already been through enough in her short life. She’d almost been fried in utero by a crazy powerful witch and then lost her father before she’d even been born. Sure, she didn’t remember any of that, but I did.

  It was enough to make me realize I needed to end this in the only way I could.

  “Enough,” I wheezed, spitting out a mouthful of blood and holding up my hands. “I’ll go with you.” It was all I could do to keep from calling these guys out as the shit-birds they were, but I was out of tricks. I didn’t want to provoke them any more than I already had. “Just promise me you won’t hurt the girl and I won’t fight you.”

  “Is that what you call this?” Hipster scoffed. “Let’s be very clear. I could snap both your necks like matchsticks and there’s nothing you could do to...”

  “You leave my Uncle Bill alone!”

  The room lit up an angry green, casting me in shadow. I dared a glance behind me, knowing what I’d see. Tina was aglow with power. Energy crackled around her, and it looked a hell of a lot angrier than what she’d been playing with earlier.

  It was somethi
ng to remember. Yes, she might have been cute as a button, but she was also a witch and, judging by the look of things, every bit as potent as her mom had once been.

  Instinct kicked in and, rather than tell her to calm down like a responsible adult probably would, I instead dove out of the way and hit the deck.

  Good timing, too, because a beam of energy shot out of Tina’s hands, hot enough to singe my eyebrows.

  The vamps were fast, but we were in an enclosed space with limited maneuverability. Before either of them could do anything to stop her, the blast hit the floor in front of them and exploded in a torrent of bright hot power.

  BLAST FROM THE PAST

  I won’t lie. I figuratively kissed my ass goodbye, certain that the building was about to collapse beneath us. What a way to go – taken out by a pint-sized Zatanna.

  Imagine my surprise, then, to look up several seconds later and realize I was still alive.

  Better yet, there were no vamps in sight.

  For a moment, I thought they’d been dusted, as the living room looked, quite literally, like a bomb had gone off in it, but then I realized most of the damage was superficial. A scorched floor, cracked windows, and a lot of broken stuff, but the blast hadn’t been as powerful as I’d feared – albeit whether that was a result of Tina being so young or holding back, I wasn’t sure.

  A part of me was afraid to ask.

  That would have to wait anyway. As the dust settled, I heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs. Even if Tina hadn’t completely ass-fucked those vamps, they’d gotten enough of a taste to retreat ... for now.

  I ran to the window, almost slipping in a puddle of Dave’s fucking skin cream along the way. Grr. Why did I let the asshole send me so much of this shit?

  Sure enough, the two vamps raced out of the building and tore ass down the street, but at a human pace. Whatever was happening, it seemed to be on the wane again. Maybe Tina’s blast had coincided with the power shutting off, so to speak, muting the explosion but rendering the two assholes powerless enough to have felt it.