Necropolis, Part 2

Necropolis
Part 2/2
an4@anon.lelnet.com
hunting vampires series

Lisa watched her from behind a pillar. She and Monica were pretending to 
exchange small talk but they both knew what they were looking at. She was 
good. A smooth hunter, all sweet words and puffy breasts and-
    'Jesus Christ. She's fucking gorgeous. I think I just wet myself.'
    'Can we possibly just do this, Monica, without the running commentary ?'
    'Just because you're not comfortable with the idea of sex as fun if it's 
not coming to you off the end of man's crank, well, that shouldn't spoil it 
for me. She's hot. Really hot.'
    'Yeah, and in an hour or two, she'll be dust.  Get it out of your head-'
    Monica looked at Lisa with open disdain even as she bummed another 
cigarette off her. 'You don't trust me,' she said, cigarette bouncing up and 
down in her mouth while she spoke. When she stopped, Lisa lit it and then one 
for herself.
    'Of course not. Look, this isn't some buddy cop movie. This is real. I 
have good reason to think that if she turns your head you might bail on me- 
or worse.'
    They weren't watching the girl anymore. Instead, they were staring one 
another down and then it happened.
    Monica's hand shot out like the head of a cobra and wrapped around 
Lisa's neck, leaving fingerprints through the collar, livid bruises that 
would take a week to fade. Lisa didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't even try 
to breath.
    'I could snap your neck right here, right now. Fuck the rules. I take my 
job very seriously. If there's one of us who lets her emotions get in the 
way, it's you. You're a bigot and you can't trust anyone, human or vamp. I 
feel sorry for you. But if I say I'll watch your fucking back, I will watch 
your fucking back. Got it ?'
    Monica let her go and Lisa resisted the urge to reach up and see if her 
head was still attached to her shoulders. It hurt, but the pain was already 
fading, so she just drew on her cigarette and exhaled in Monica's face.
    'You'd be a natural for a tough love seminar,' Lisa finally quipped, 
breaking the silence between them.
    And then the girl and the boy went past them and they had to pretend not 
to watch them, not to care, only because they already knew where they would 
end up. But they did take furtive glances just to be sure they weren't in 
turn being watched. They waited half a minute and then followed the trail of 
cigar smoke towards the door. They were almost out when another bouncer 
stepped in their way.
    He looked at Lisa, looked her up and down, but the way a doctor would. 
There was nothing sexual in it- in fact, it was disappointingly antiseptic.
    'Are you all right, Lisa ?'
    'Do I know you ?' Lisa asked, keeping the annoyance in her voice at a 
minimal level.
    'Should I take that as a yes ?'
    'Yeah. We were- just catching up on old times.'
    'Next time you do something like that Monica, I'll ask Mr. V to ban your 
ass. Understood ?'
    'Tell Victor I said hi, Tommy. And tell him he ought to come down on the 
floor once in a while.'
    'Mr. V doesn't like rubbing elbows with the customers. Sends the wrong 
message, him being final arbiter and all.'
    'Well, tell him anyway. And next time, mind your own fucking business, 
Tommy. I know the fucking rules, okay ?'
    The look on his face suggested he didn't like having his balls busted by 
a vamp. But it also said that he understood Monica was someone who could bust 
considerably more, and he backed off so they could pass.
    'How does he know me ?' Lisa asked as they walked out into the cold 
Albany air.
    'Jesus, we have to get schlepping. Get in the fucking car and I'll 
explain.'
    They slid into Monica's Celica convertible. She opened the glove box, 
pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims 120s and lit two of them. She handed one 
to Lisa and spun out of their parking space, rubber struggling to gain 
purchase on ice. She fishtailed onto Highland Avenue and, gunning the engine, 
upshifting to fifth like a European Grand Prix master.
    'How many of you do you think there are in the US, Lisa ?'
    'Vampire slayers ? Around an hundred. I've been considering a 
convention,' she added sarcastically.
    'Yeah. And how many of them are as accomplished, as skilled as you ?'
    'Fifteen, maybe twenty,' Lisa answered, trying not to be arrogant and 
trying not to think about how that long white cigarette looked between 
Monica's lips as she drew on it.
    'Try five. And if you count the dust piles, maybe two. Everyone knows 
you. The last three years, you've made a rep for yourself, and unless you 
come to grips with the reality of that soon, you're going to end up very 
dead. They're going to start coming- from Europe, from Asia, hell, half the 
russian vamps already are here in the states. And you could make some young 
hotshot vamp's rep real easy, just by dying for them.'
    Lisa said nothing. She pulled on the elegant cigarette and wished this 
would all stop before it became too much.'
    'That's what kills me about you. You know how often I feed ?'
    'How often you kill ? Twice a month. Like clock work. In between, you 
just snack, but twice a month the bloodlust overwhelms you. I've done my 
homework too.'
    'That's twenty-four a year. How many kills do you have since 1 january ?'
    'I don't keep score. I've never kept score.'
    'Seventy-three, and that doesn't include Vermont this January. That's 
three to one, but you're a vampire bigot, you don't think we have feelings 
or hopes or anything else.'
    Lisa trimmed ash out the window, inhaled, thought.
    'You're wrong. I never said I'm not a killer. I am, but it's kill or be 
killed. What I do, I do for the human race. It's a war.'
    'It's not a war. You can make it one in your head, but it's not a war. 
It's a balancing act. It's evolution. We have the superior form and you have 
the superior numbers. It's ying and yang, you just happen to be at one 
extreme. And you're wrong to think I'm at the other.'
    'I don't want this philosophy lesson, Monica. I want to kill that vamp 
before she and Watersson kill that boy. She might have been a little fucking 
sweety before he turned her. She might look so hot sitting there with a cigar 
in her mouth and her legs wrapped around that boy that I want to fuck her, 
but none of that matters. She's going to die tonight, and you can't make me 
feel bad about it just because she's cute and has big boobs.'
    'I don't want you to feel bad-'
    'You don't trust me either, do you ?' Lisa asked, thinking maybe she saw 
what this was about after all.
    'No. That's the funny thing. I do trust you. Hell, we've trusted each 
other once before and we walked away from it. I think that unless I try to 
kill you- at least here, at least now, you will let me walk.'
    'There's the brownstone,' Lisa said. 'I don't understand. This guy has 
just one floor, the third ? Shouldn't a guy three hundred years old be able 
to do better than one floor of brownstone in a bad neighbourhood in Albany ?'
    'Stock market crash wiped Watterson out. He owned three of these. Sold 
one to pay the taxes, rents out most of the other two. Funny too. Never rents 
to vamps.'
    'Well, they do have a bad habit of turning to dust and leaving him in the 
bag for rent.'
    'Look, let's get out there, get close, and then wait.'
    'Wait ?' Lisa said. 'Wait ? For what ?'
    'Until she's close to the kill. She'll be less focused then, so will he. 
Trust me on this.'
    'Yeah, that's a perfect plan. We make our move while she'll killing him. 
No thanks.'
    'Fuck,' Monica said, exasperated. 'Do you want another cigarette ?'
    Lisa nodded, took one and this time let Monica light her.
    'I won't let it get that far. If you don't want to wait, be my guest. 
But you do it without me.'
    'How long ?'
    'Ten minutes, maybe less. I'll be able to feel her as she gets close to 
feeding.'
    'Then won't she feel you ?'
    'No. She'll be preoccupied. Just relax-'
    A non-descript man in a trench coat sauntered up to them. 'Ladies. Down 
this way, out on the street on a Saturday night, you must be looking to 
score.' He patted his overcoat. 'You name your poison, I got your dosage.'
    Monica stepped forward, looked into his pale, drawn face and then at his 
shabby clothes. He was probably squatting a few blocks down amid the crack 
houses and the abandoned building. Just trying to get by, maybe, or high, or 
just plain stupid.  
    'Not interested. Get out of here.'
    'Ladies, please. Don't have to act shy- unless you carry badges. If 
you're carrying this was just a little misunderstand. Otherwise, let me 
guarantee you all my stuff is clean, it's cut right, and it is most 
definitely priced to move.'
    Monica showed her fangs.
    'Get out of her before I gut you, you little worm.'
    He turned and ran as fast as his tattered sneakers would carry him.
    'I guess that is useful now and again, eh ?' Lisa said.
    
    Two cigarettes each later, Monica grabbed Lisa by the arm. 'Let's go.' 
They walked up the steps, found the front door locked. They reached into 
their coats and pulled out identical lock guns. Lisa took the deadbolt. 
Monica slipped the ornate doorknob, and they were in. Past the metal 
mailboxes and to the stairs. Monica could feel his heart pounding as She ran 
her teeth along his chest, not ready yet to feed but rather just playing with 
him. She was on top and he was inside her and Watterson was in the room, 
watching it all and waiting to pounce.
    They reached the door and started to work on the lock as George lifted 
his head to watch her.
    'You are going to let me bite you just a little, right ?' Heather asked. 
She was looking forward to this, in ways he couldn't possibly imagine.
    'Of course. It wouldn't be the same if you didn't, as long as you keep 
your promise.'
    'Oh, I intend to keep the promise I made,' and that was true in a sense, 
although she followed it with a blatant lie.
    'And when we're done you and I are going to lie on this bed and smoke 
cigars and think about how wonderful life is.'
    'When-'
    'You're almost ready to come. Just as you do, I'll bite you and then 
I'll have my orgasm and oh boy, will you have a story to tell your friends, 
although none of them will believe it. And you'll never want to go back to 
those drunk sorority girls.'
    His breathing was heavy, fast and irregular. She was riding up and down 
and already nipping at his chest, careful not break to skin. They were the 
Frail, and they needed a certain perfect ritual for this to be as dark and 
fulfilling as it might be. His taste would be that of the wretched, in bliss, 
if she did this right.
    Just as he was about to come (and she hid from him that she was already 
moving towards her second orgasm), she bent her head close to his ear and 
slipped her hands carefully to where she could grab his wrists in an 
heartbeat.
    'You actually thought I would let you live, you silly bastard.' It was 
statement, not question. She saw the fear in his eyes, grabbed his wrists as 
he screamed, and that was when hell broke loose in an aging brownstone in 
Albany.
    Watterson stepped out from behind the floor length drapes and leapt 
towards the bed, the bedroom door swinging open just as he left his feet.
    'Go !' Monica yelled, and Lisa moved with all the speed she could 
muster, leaping to meet him over the bed. Off his feet, he had none of his 
strength and none of her mass. They sailed over the side of the bed and 
crashed into the corner of a waist high chest of drawers. Lisa heard an 
audible snap of backbone or rib. It didn't matter. She slipped the stake home 
as he flailed out with his clawed hands, cutting her across the cheek, which 
began to bleed freely. He didn't turn immediately to dust but rather melted 
into a putrescence as the old ones often did.
    Monica had moved to the bed. As all smart vampires with long hair, 
Heather had put her hair back into a cute little pony tail which Monica 
yanked back, holding her head less than half an inch from his neck with both 
hands. Heather had her hands wrapped in the bed sheets now so she could try 
to pull herself down to him. She knew she would be stronger if she could just 
feed a little.
    'Lisa, get your shit together.'
    'You do it.'
    'I don't have a free fucking hand fucking move now !'
    Lisa rolled up onto the bed and Heather had her chest pressed tightly 
against his, as though her heart was safe like this. Lisa drove the stake 
through her back- the young ones never understood that worked just as well. 
As she turned to dust, Lisa pivoted the stake sideway so that it wouldn't 
impale George and she fell on him. Something jabbed her in the stomach, 
depriving her of the relief of being done with it.
    Then she realised what was poking her, screamed, and rolled off the 
resident naked idiot. He squirmed, sitting up fast, and Monica, who hadn't 
moved, got a noseful of his still-happy organ.
    'Get that Jesus fucking piece of shit out of my face,' she yelled, 
slapping it hard and he rolled off the bed and began fumbling for his clothes.
    'I want to thank you two, I don't know what I was-' he said, clearly 
half in shock.
    Monica extended her fangs. 'Get the FUCK out of here before I kill you 
myself.' He didn't need it repeated.
    Lisa used her lighter to light a candle on top of the chest and that was 
when Monica saw the blood. It was soaking into Lisa's shirt and she was 
starting to look weak. She moved over to her and stood still for a moment, 
studying her. Lisa stepped back, wondering if this was the moment of 
betrayal, and her fears were confirmed when Monica stepped forward menacingly.
    'I just want to stop that bleeding so that we don't have to take you to 
an hospital.'
    Lisa knew what she was going to do and she allowed it. Monica licked at 
the wound, lapping up the sweat, sweaty blood. The cut closed rapidly, after 
just a few mouthfuls, and then she began cleaning her neck, expecting Lisa to 
stop her, but she didn't, not until Monica was done.
    'Better that than you going out for a snack later,' Lisa said, and then 
added a thank you, although it was gruff. She used the candle to light two of 
her own cigarettes and handed one to Monica.
    'I better get going.'
    'No,' Monica said, touching her arm. 'There was one thing I didn't tell 
you.'
    'That's a shock,' Lisa said, and then drew on her cigarette and exhaled 
through her nose.
    'Look, there's an optional rider on the contract. One hundred thousand. 
Seems our cheerleader's dad was a little ambivalent about dusting his only 
daughter. The plan was this- I let you do the woodwork, and then if I wanted 
the hundred grand, all I had to do was ace you. Like I said, it was optional, 
but he might send someone else on his own. Come back to my place. That's the 
one place he won't expect to find a vampire slayer.'
    'Why should I believe you ?'
    'Because I made a deal to watch your back.'
    Lisa wanted to argue, but suddenly she lacked the strength.

    As Monica opened the IM window, she looked at her, at her associate. She 
was sleeping, but not too deeply. The glowing white apple on her sleeping 
powerbook pulsed. She hadn't said very much after they had compared the 
privacy keys. She'd just kind of settled into a murky funk and drifted off.
    But oh, was it going to make for interesting conversation come morning.
    finished ?
    Monica looked at the blinking cursor under the word.
    yes. both of them.
and ?
no and.
good. she is more valuable to us in her current state. expensive decision for 
you.
irrelevant. bye ?
did you tell her ?
yes.
perhaps unwise, but not unexpected. and ?
no and yet. bye ?
impatient as always. bye.
bye.
Monica closed the window, truly thinking she knew what was to come.
    

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