Night Stalker: from the Tome of Bill Series Read online

  “Vampires.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re going to hunt vampires.”

  “I’m pretty sure the folks up in Boston would take exception to one of their coven masters deciding to go all Van Helsing on his own troops.” Or then again, maybe not. I still wasn’t certain on the rules about these things.

  “That’s fine ... it’s also irrelevant. See, you’re not going to be killing vampires. You’re going to be saving people from them.”

  “What’s the difference? More importantly, how does that help me at all?”

  Tom gave a pained sigh as he plopped back down onto the couch. “Need I explain everything? You’re a vampire. You know of two other covens of vampires in the area. Hell you’re in charge of one of them, right?”

  “True.”

  “Let’s forget about the Howard Beach vamps for the moment. They’re tough, they’ve got street cred. Sounds like there’s a better chance of them kicking your ass. However, you said it yourself, your coven is mostly a bunch of supermodels and long-haired pretty boys. Although on that first part, I need to reiterate the fact that you coming home to Ed and me every day makes me seriously doubt your sexual preferences.”

  “Get to the point or I’m gonna find a lot more than syrup to mix my blood in with.”

  “I’m getting there. You told those frat house vamps to stop hunting people, but haven’t enforced that rule in a way they respect. Is that correct?”

  “In a nutshell.”

  “So, you know what they look like and you know where they hunt. Concentrate your stakeouts in those places. When you see one leading an unwary victim away, you swoop down…”

  “Swoop?”

  “Or climb down, or fall on your fucking face. It doesn’t matter. You jump in, kick the shit out of them, and then make your escape. Do it enough times and your reputation ... or your alter ego’s anyway will grow.”

  I thought about that for a moment. He did have a point. When I’d first been turned, I was scared shitless. I mean, waking up in a den of monsters was not how I’d intended to end that night. But then I learned a few things. For starters, once the coven found out I was a Freewill, a good chunk of them stopped harassing me. Turns out that most predators are only brave when their prey is weak. Add in an unknown element and they’ll act like kids, afraid to turn off the closet light at night. I was living proof of that ... or had been. Seems I’d gone to that well one too many times and come back with nothing but a bucket of sand. I expressed as much to Tom.

  “That’s the beauty of it. You’ll scare the fuck out of those vamps. But then, when you’re hanging out with the coven, you’ll be all brave and shit. You’ll tell those pussies to man the fuck up and show them you’re not afraid of some vigilante vampire hunter. After a while we’ll stage something ... maybe throw Ed in the costume and let you beat the snot out of him in front of witnesses. Before you know it, you’ll be back on top. Your coven will think you’re awesome for stepping up.”

  “And I’ll really save some people in the process?”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  Holy shit. He actually had some good points. I needed to mark this occasion down somewhere. Usually Tom was the type to talk me into stupid shit, like that time in college I chugged a liter of Everclear. But this ... it had potential. “Do you really think it could work?”

  “Like a charm, my friend. Hell, maybe you’ll even get a couple of decent headlines written about you.”

  THE BIRTH OF A LEGEND

  I know how these things go. I’ve seen Kick-Ass enough times to know that going out unprepared on your first patrol can lead to some serious hurt.

  Tom and I spent that entire day making a list of things that needed to be taken care of.

  A costume itself was easy. Thank goodness for the internet and next day shipping. After a couple hours of surfing the web, including some fetish shops, I decided that rather than become Gimp Man, I’d go with something more down to Earth. We’re talking black clothing, a trench coat, and a full-visor motorcycle helmet. Think The Matrix meets The Wraith. I ended up balking at the cost of actual body armor, but Tom solved that ... sorta.

  “You want me to wear baking pans under my shirt?”

  “They’re metal aren’t they? They just need to work good enough to keep any pointy objects out of your heart.”

  I doubted his logic there, but my bank account said that compromises needed to be made so I said a silent prayer that the Pillsbury Dough Boy would keep me safe and we moved on.

  Weaponry was a must. After all, the vamps of Village Coven were older than me and it would be a dead giveaway if I had to resort to biting them. Thankfully that was easy to figure out. Vamps might be tough, but blunt force trauma was a pretty good equalizer. Some of what we wanted couldn’t be shipped to New York thanks to the state’s stupid laws, but fortunately my parents lived in Jersey and they didn’t ask questions.

  Speaking of vampires, though, there was also smell to take into consideration. I wasn’t sure if a vamp could tell another by scent – I wasn’t experienced enough to know for certain – but with our enhanced noses it seemed likely. I thought that could be an issue, but then Tom picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Ed. His old man is a survival nut.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “The shotgun under Ed’s bed says different. Needless to say, he lives in the sticks and owns lots of firearms. Close enough for me.”

  A few minutes later, Tom got off the phone, having secured that Ed’s stepdad did indeed have some scent killing shit to throw off deer and that he would be bringing a bottle of it back with him upon his return.

  “No questions asked?”

  Tom smiled. “Tis one of the perks of having a bloodsucker for a roommate. One learns to accept the weird and unusual with but a shrug and acceptance.”

  “Think he’ll try to talk us out of this?”

  Tom and I looked at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing. Who was I kidding? This was the same roommate who’d stabbed me with a knife to prove to Tom that I was undead. Hell, he’d probably want to videotape the whole fucking thing for posterity’s sake.

  * * *

  The beauty of my arrangement with Sally was that it took into account my day job and anything else I did in my sad quest to have a life. Also, she liked that I typically only showed up on weekends because it allowed her to run things as she pleased, without any of my pesky morality around to muck things up.

  This time around, though, I had a feeling it was gonna be rougher on her than usual. She had a lot of damage control to do. I kinda felt bad leaving it up to her. I mean, she was only one vampire. Even she couldn’t keep eyes in the back of her head twenty-four/seven. In essence, I was leaving her to clean up my mess. I still wasn’t sure of my feelings for Sally. On the one hand, she was a total self-absorbed bitch. On the other, she’d gone out on a limb for me more than once. I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to extend the title of friend to her, but she was definitely more than a casual acquaintance. Regardless, I didn’t relish the thought of anything happening to her while I was off tending to my day job and pretending that I still had a heartbeat.

  Thankfully that didn’t look to be the case for long. Though it pained my wallet to do so, the expedited shipping of my supplies meant that the wait was fairly short. As expected, Ed was full on in, handing out a rare compliment to Tom for coming up with the idea and jumping in with his own suggestions.

  Come the end of that week we were ready to put our plan into motion.

  * * *

  “Can you come in here?”

  “What?”

  I raised my voice to make sure it was heard outside the helmet. “I said, get your ass in here!” Maybe if a 2.0 update was needed to my vigilante costume, we could spring for a Bluetooth speaker or something. Thankfully, the vamps whom I’d be targeting had damned good hearing.

  “I’m on the phone.”

>   “Well hang up. You spend too much on sex hotlines as it is.”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  Muffled though my voice might be, I could still hear fine. Tom said his goodbyes to someone along with what sounded like ... nah, I must’ve been hearing wrong. It sounded like he said he’d see the other party soon. Odd. As far as I knew he had no plans to visit his parents.

  “Dude,” my roommate said, stepping to my doorway. “I’m trying to get a fucking date here. What the hell ... whoa.”

  I stood there, decked out in full battle gear. “How do you like it?”

  “Pretty fucking badass.”

  I turned to the mirror and had to agree. Though I definitely didn’t look like I was packing a superhero physique, the layers of clothing gave me a bulky look – and not just around the middle. The blackness of everything really helped too: from the combat boots, the trench coat, the helmet, and even the gloves– atop which I wielded a pair of brass knuckles that we’d spray painted to match the rest.

  “How do you feel in it?”

  “It should be fine unless we get a heat wave anytime soon.” The baking pans I’d rigged to cover the front and back of my chest weren’t the most comfortable things, but the bulky black sweater did a good job of hiding it in the front and it was pretty much invisible from the rear under the trench coat. Still felt like a dumb idea, but if it kept me from lining the bottom of an ashtray then it was worth it.

  “Cool. Show Ed yet?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, taking off the helmet. “He came in earlier and hosed me down with that de-scenting shit.”

  “What did he think?”

  “Said I’d be lucky to not be shot by a cop the second I step outside.”

  “Sounds like an endorsement to me. Oh hey, I’ve been thinking of a name.”

  “Oh god...”

  “How about the Night Stalker?”

  “Pretty sure that was a TV show.”

  “Fine. Just the Stalker then.”

  “Makes me sound like a rapist.”

  “We can use that.” He put his hands on his hips and lowered his voice. “Fear not, for I am the Stalker, and I’m here to rape crime in the ass.”

  “Yeah, let’s not go with that. It sounds ... wait, back up a second, did you say a date?”

  “Fuck yeah! There’s this new girl in our PR department. I’ve been passing her in the hall the last couple of days, giving her my winning smile.”

  “And she didn’t immediately file a restraining order?”

  “Fuck no. She actually asked me out to lunch today. Yeah, I know. Surprised the shit out of me too. So I’m trying to set something up. With any luck, I’ll be fucking the daylights out of her before the weekend is through.”

  “And they say romance is dead. What if I need you, though? This is our big test run.”

  Tom placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. “I know, and normally I’d be the Robin to your Batman ... not the fruity one in the pantyhose, mind you.”

  “For which I am grateful, don’t get me wrong. What ever happened to bros before hoes, though?”

  “It’s still in effect.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s been a long time since I got my dick wet and some things have to be given priority.”

  Oddly enough, I couldn’t really argue with that logic.

  OUT ON PATROL

  I realized, standing there in the alleyway watching Firebird work her charms on an unsuspecting fellow, that communicators were a definite plot crutch for comic book heroes. Seems they were always able to instantly talk to their teammates without any problems at all.

  Being that I didn’t own any Star Trek tech or even a decent headset, I had to rely on my cell phone – talking low so as to not be overheard by any vampire ears.

  “I think she’s making her move.”

  “Describe her,” Tom said. His date had apparently come to her senses and rescheduled, much to his chagrin.

  “It’s that hot redhead I was telling you about.”

  “The one that Douche Razor was porking?”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “No problem. Just don’t do anything yet.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Wait to see what she does. Maybe you can catch her in the middle of fucking him, see some tits.”

  “Give me that!” my other roommate, Ed, said from the other end of the connection. “You two really make me wonder if we’re all the same species here.”

  “Bill isn’t,” Tom replied from the background.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” I spat into the receiver before looking up and seeing the two disappear inside the building they’d been conversing in front of. Her destination was obvious. The coven owned a small apartment on 20th, specifically designed for situations such as these: heavily soundproofed, vacancies on either side despite this being the middle of the city, high grade laminate flooring for easy cleanup ... that sort of thing. It was a place where a vamp could take their sweet time, as opposed to a quick alleyway feeding. That meant Firebird had plans for this guy.

  I considered Tom’s words. He was probably right. I had little doubt there’d be some boning going on in the short term. Firebird, no doubt named for her hair – real genius Jeff was, let me tell you – practically oozed sex with every step she took. She was the type, had she been human, who would have collected rich boyfriends like Tom collected action figures. Mind you, other than some flirting and a lot of blue-balling, none of that shit had ever come my way, but I digress.

  Regardless of how the evening started for her date, it would end with him being carted out the back wrapped in plastic and destined to be forever remembered as a missing person. Or at least that’s how she was planning it. My goal was to make sure things ended a wee bit differently.

  As I crossed the street, just a guy wearing a black trench coat and carrying a duffel bag, I felt a twinge of guilt. Growing up, I’d been taught that it was not cool to hit women. Picking on those weaker than you was for the realm of the truly pathetic. Still, I needed to remember that the rules went out the window where the undead were concerned. A weak looking façade meant nothing. One needed to only look at Sally to see that. She was half my size, yet could have wiped the floor with me.

  If anything, I was the disadvantaged party here. Still, we’d purposely chosen Firebird as my first target. She was a known hunter, flaunting my rules even before the coven had lost respect for me. However, she was far from being considered the crème de la crème of our fighters. I’d once heard Sally say, in a moment of cattiness, that Firebird could suck the skin off a cucumber but would still lose in a battle of wits to one.

  Yeah, I was picking a comparatively easy mark for my first mission. Sue me. Even Spider-man started off with the regular Joe who iced his Uncle Ben before moving up to the Green Goblin.

  I let myself into the building, noting the lobby was quiet. Another advantage of this place, so I’d been told, was all of the security cameras were dummies – fakes to make the real tenants feel safe, while at the same time letting the building’s owners continue to be cheap fucks. Regardless, I waited until I got into the stairwell to unzip my bag and don my helmet, gloves, and baseball bat – also painted black ... gotta stick with a theme y’know.

  Then, feeling like a reject from a Mad Max movie, I made my way up to the fifth floor. It was time to get this party started.

  * * *

  Tom and I had spent hours debating catch phrases or snippy one-liners. Never let it be said that we skimped on the important details. In the end, though, we decided ... well, okay, Ed decided after declaring every single thing I said to be pathetic ... that silence would say the most. I could see his point. What’s more terrifying, some dude yelling “Flame on!” or being accosted by a silent vigilante – one who gives you no clue as to his motivation, other than your pain?

  Yeah, I could dig that.

  Or hopefully I could. My tongue sometimes had a mind of its own.

/>   I stepped out into the hall and made my way to apartment 5-13, inwardly groaning at the clichéd choice in numbers. Sometimes the forces of darkness could be so predictable. I stepped in front of the door and readied myself. My delay was twofold in nature. This was my make it or break it moment. As for the rest, I knew the locks on the door were heavy duty. That was fairly common for coven properties. No point in trapping a human inside someplace they could easily escape from.

  Even so, as a programmer I was well versed in the KISS method ... keep it simple, stupid. That meant always trying the obvious stuff before automatically assuming things were complicated. So, just for shits and giggles, I tested the door knob.

  To my amazement, it turned. Talk about sloppy. I mean seriously, this was how the coven conducted business? Who the fuck doesn’t lock...

  Sadly, I stood there for a second too long gawking at the inept security. Maybe I’d made a noise or the latch clicking open alerted her, but either way the knob was yanked out of my hand as the door was pulled open from the inside.

  “You guys know I’m using the apartment tonight so fuck...” the words died in Firebird’s throat. From her indignation, she’d no doubt thought another coven member was infringing on her space. In a sense that was true, just not how she’d envisioned it. Anyway, apparently this chick had never gone to college. Everyone knows you’re supposed to hang something on the doorknob to tell your roomies to take a hike when there’s horizontal mambo lessons afoot. Jeez, did I have to explain everything to these dumbasses?

  “Who the fuck are you?” she asked, regaining her composure.

  Over her shoulder, I saw the guy she’d invited in. He was sitting on the couch looking impatient, his shirt already open in the front. He looked in my direction and stood. “You didn’t tell me you had a roommate.”

  “She doesn’t,” I said, my voice low and threatening. So much for being the silent and deadly type.

  I reared back a brass-knuckled fist, ready to deliver a haymaker to emphasize the point, but then I fucking hesitated. Though I knew damn well what she was, to my eyes Firebird still looked like a girl. I could hear my dad talking in my head telling me that only a fucking coward would do what I was about to – like I was some Joe Six-pack sitting around while my wife washed the laundry or did the dishes in a way that displeased my royal ass.