Embracing the Shadows (30 page)

"Yeah, I guess we can, Jack," I managed to
reply, even though my mind was spinning with questions. I was
always careful about being tailed. Did he somehow track me anyway?
Did someone sell me out? The list of who could've was short, very
short. I didn't have time to mull it over right then - I had a hemo
to piss off. He was already angry, but I needed him over the edge.
That's where mistakes are made.

"Just so I know," I asked, thinking of how to
get to my other guns in the bedroom, "why are you here? Is it
because your boy Declan went out screaming like a girl and got
turned into separate little piles of dust? Or maybe it's because
Viggo made you look like a trouble-making little bitch in front of
everyone? Either way, you know he'd kick your ass in a heartbeat,
so you come after me instead, right? What a fucking coward you
are."

"Your sire can't save you now, and I tire of
your weak chatter," Fletcher said as his eyes lowered, telling me
he was crouching to charge. There was no time to wonder if he knew
Viggo was gone or if he just planned to finish me quick. In a
sudden rush, the burly Outsider came at me with those damn
claws.

I was the taller of us, but Fletcher had more
mass. He planned to use it to either smash me back into the lounge,
or jam his claws into my chest. Neither sounded good. I knew from
experience that hemo claw wounds were much harder to heal. I
guessed it was a supernatural weapon thing. I hadn't asked.

I emptied my Glock into him as he barreled
forward. The bullets stood him up straighter, but he hardly lost
any momentum. I dropped a split second before Fletcher got to me
and used my head and shoulder to take his legs out from under him.
He tumbled over and past me into the lounge. The collision with
some of the furniture finally woke Thunder, who came running past
me out of the room.

I backed up to the door of my bedroom as
Fletcher quickly got back to his feet like an animal. As fast as I
was, there still wasn't enough time for me to get my Super Shorty
and load it before the bastard was on me again. I was quicker, and
most likely stronger, but he had those damn claws and was the
toughest son of a bitch (except for Viggo) that I'd ever seen. I
needed to create some space.

Closer than before, Fletcher stood at the
entry to the lounge with his back slightly hunched. He glared at
me, ready to pounce. "You act like you're the one with the
advantage, asshole," I said. "I'm just waiting for you to make
another stupid move."

"Keep running away, scared rabbit," Fletcher
countered while he took two slow, prowling steps forward and ripped
off his tattered shirt. "Your blood will taste sweeter from the
effort."

"Come on then, prick. I don't have all
night." Yeah, big talk; I was in deep shit.

Fletcher lunged forward, swinging a vicious
set of claws. Reacting on instinct, I caught his arm at the wrist.
He was a little surprised that I stopped his attack cold, so I took
advantage of the moment. A front kick sent him reeling back against
the banister. I rushed forward to press the attack and planted my
boot in his chest with a running side kick.

I meant to knock Fletcher over the banister
and onto the lower half of the split-level stairs. I forgot my
strength, though, and sent him through it instead. Wood went flying
as he rocketed backwards. He slammed into the wall of the stairwell
and tumbled down the last few steps to the first floor.

There was no pause; I heard movement as soon
as Fletcher went out of view. Just as I began to wonder what
condition he was in, I heard him say, "Are you coming down, or am I
coming back up?"

Fuck, he was tough. I ran into the bedroom
and grabbed my Super Shorty from its case. I heard the stairs creak
as I loaded the mini-cannon with whatever shells were handy. When I
spun, he was coming at me again. With time for only one shot, I
aimed high. Buckshot ripped into the right side of Fletcher's face
at point-blank range. The compact spray cratered his cheek and
ruined his right eye.

The force of the deafening blast sent
Fletcher back against a wall. The bastard didn't go down. I guess
that fact rattled me, because he managed to lurch forward and swing
again. He was too far away to hit me, but his claws sliced two
holes in the outstretched barrel of my gun.

Useless as a firearm, I swung the gun like a
short club and dented the side of his head. The hit spun him, and
he fell away from me to his hands and knees. I grabbed my combat
knife with every intention of cutting the bastard's head off.
Yanking his head up from behind with my left hand, I reached around
with the blade and slashed.

There was no sense of penetration, no
piercing of flesh. Fletcher chuckled - yeah, chuckled - and then
raked his claws through the muscles of my right forearm. Blood
gushed and muscles were severed. Shit, I just lost use of my right
hand. And worse than that, it fucking hurt.

The knife fell out of my twitching hand, so I
took a step back and kneed him in the back of the head before he
could turn around. Fletcher went down flat and slid a few feet on
the hardwood floor, but immediately started to get back up.

Ignoring the blood pouring out of my burning
forearm, I stepped forward and snapped a jab into his smiling
mouth. My knuckles broke one of extended incisors. Fletcher blinked
once, smiled again, and swung an open backhand. I ducked under it,
stepping to the side. Two hard hooks to the gut made him buckle,
but not enough. He got hold of my shirt and yanked me in close.

Stupidly, I went with the motion and
head-butted Fletcher in his face - a grisly face that had already
begun to heal. He head-butted me right back. I pulled his hand off
me and stepped back to clear my vision. He swung again. I stepped
out into the hallway to dodge the claws, but one of them ripped
through my shirt and across my right shoulder.

My straight left to Fletcher's bloody eye
socket didn't have much leverage to it, but it still managed to
make him stumble back a few steps. "Is that all you got, you little
bitch?" I taunted, hoping to make him attack wildly again so I
could take advantage of it. My wish was granted, sort of.

Fletcher charged again. As he came in close,
I leaned to my right and caught one of his reaching arms. I spun
with the raging hemo's momentum and hip-tossed him toward the
staircase. The tenacious fucker grabbed my arm as I flung him, and
we both flew over the edge.

I hadn't really tested my exerted strength,
but I knew it was disproportionate to my body. Well, I just had my
first test. My focused power was enough to send two good-sized men
hurling through the air. Unfortunately, I was one of them. Fletcher
and I smashed down onto the lower case of the stairs, which was
cement under the wood planks. The impact made us lose our grip on
each other. We both tumbled out onto the first floor a few paces
apart. I was next to my office door, and he was near the
kitchen.

I'll admit it, I was hurting. The claw wounds
wouldn't close, so my upper right side was blood-soaked. Landing
hard on those damn stairs screwed up my left knee. My blood loss
was sapping my strength. Looking at Fletcher as we both stood,
though . . . He wasn't doing too great, either. His face had
stopped healing and was still pretty gruesome, he was pale as a
sheet, and he was favoring his left side where I'd driven two hooks
into his ribs. I think my greater progeny was keeping me in the
fight.

Wanting to finish one way or another, I was
the one who charged forward that time. A flying knee to the chest
slammed Fletcher back into the doorway of the kitchen. He rolled to
his left and stumbled into the lit room. I quickly followed. He was
waiting for me.

Both of his hands latched onto my shirt as I
ran in. He used my speed to slam me to the floor, and was on top of
me before I could spin away. Our legs struggled for position while
I held one of his arms at bay; my fucked up right arm could only
block incoming swings. After one claw managed to stab me in the
chest, I was able to pin that arm down against his thigh. That's
when Fletcher gave a broken-tooth grin, opened his mouth wide for a
bite, and leaned his head down toward my face.

We both heard a gasp. Fletcher looked over
his shoulder, and I leaned my head to one side to see who the
surprise visitor was. At that moment, I thought any interruption
was welcome. I was wrong.

" . . . Leo?" asked a soft, trembling voice.
At the entry to the kitchen was my doe-eyed sister Clara.

SISTER

Frozen in place by shock and fear, Clara
stood there with a couple Disney DVDs clutched to her chest. She'd
innocently come into danger, and I was going to have one hell of a
time keeping my promise to watch out for her. In a panic, I yelled,
"Run, Clara! Get outta here!"

Fletcher sprung off me like an animal and
raced the few steps over to her while I scrambled to my feet. He
grabbed her by the neck and lifted as he spun, pinning her back to
his chest. Holding the terrified girl against him, he pressed his
free hand of claws against her poncho and then smiled at me. "Ah,
and who do we have here? Clara, is it?"

"She isn't part of this, Jack," I said,
trying to keep my voice calm. "You only came here for me."

"Oh, but I can't let an unexpected gift like
this pass me by, Leo. I can tell that this fresh young thing is
important to you, just as Declan was to me. Now you can know my
anguish before I put you down once and for all." Fletcher sniffed
her ear and added, "I sense old blood in little Clara. Perhaps
it'll taste as sweet as yours."

From out of the dark hallway, Thunder
suddenly landed on Fletcher's head. Screeching like a feral beast,
my awesome cat clawed at his face. Roaring in surprise, the elder
Outsider flung Clara by her neck across the kitchen. I saw blood as
she was tossed away, so the claws must've sliced at her throat.
Thunder was knocked away a second later, but it was all the opening
I needed.

With my last reserves of energy, I laid into
the bastard with my good limbs. My right boot to the side of
Fletcher's head drove him sideways into the near wall. He bounced
back and thrust his claws at me, but his swing was sloppy. I
dodged, grabbed his arm as I spun my back to him, and broke his
elbow over my shoulder. I drove my own elbow backward into his
stomach, then turned and threw an uppercut into his exposed armpit.
The punch to the nerve cluster there made him crumple to the floor.
I shoved Fletcher the rest of the way down and stomped on the side
of his neck. He didn't move.

I was about to go get one of the broken
banister spindles from out in the hallway to jam into Fletcher's
heart, but dizziness made me stumble. I was out of gas. Hell, the
room was dimming from my wavering consciousness. I took a few steps
and put my hand to a wall for support.

And then the hamstring of my right leg flared
with almost unbearable pain. Fletcher had dragged himself the few
feet to reach me and buried his claws in the back of my leg. I went
down yelling and slumped against the floorboard.

"Now, before I finish you," Fletcher said
with labored breath as he struggled to stand, "you get to watch me
slice your little friend into bloody ribbons. It's only fair, don't
you think?" He turned toward the kitchen cabinets where he'd thrown
my sister. "Say goodbye to Leo, Clara."

The room dimmed even more. That time I knew
it wasn't failing eyesight, because the resulting gloom began to
gather and spin. Following the shadows was a swirling breeze that
quickly turned into a strong wind. I looked over to Clara, but I
only saw a monster in a purple poncho. With a harsh, booming voice,
she said, "My name is Vivian!"

The wind intensified, focusing on Fletcher.
Strips of the abyss began adding in to the mix of airborne napkins,
splinters of wood, and cat food. Weak on his feet, Fletcher was
buffeted backward. Then, like they were sucked in by a tornado,
those black strips converged around his neck.

I thought the strips were going to be used to
choke him, like I basically had done to a streetlamp. Instead of
constricting, though, Clara/Vivian used them to open a void - with
Fletcher's neck in the middle.

He didn't even have time to fully reach up
and claw at the darkness circling just under his chin. Trying to
tear it off him would've been useless anyway. With a primal scream,
my sister closed the void.

Fletcher stood there motionless, his long
hair wafting in the dying wind, and with a thin layer of his neck
gone. His fading orange eyes opened wide before his head tumbled
off his shoulders.

Only a second after Fletcher's head and body
fell to the floor, they turned to dust and were swept around the
room from the last of the breeze. I dropped my forehead to the
floor from both pain and relief. Less than a minute later, I felt a
small hand in my hair. "Leo, are you okay?" Clara softly asked.

I looked up and saw the same cute face I was
used to. She had a dish towel pressed to her neck, and a worried
look in her big, dark eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay," I lied. "Are
you?"

"I'll be alright," she replied with a shrug.
"Maybe we should eat something. I'll call some rats."

"Yeah, that'd be great," I said as I propped
myself against the wall. Thunder quietly padded back in and settled
himself next to me. He deserved pampering from then on.

"I hope Thunder doesn't eat them all," she
added with a small smile, acting as if she'd forgotten what just
happened. Clara then picked up something next to me; it was one of
the DVDs she brought. "After we eat, will you come watch this with
me?" she asked. "Some parts are kinda scary."

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