The Awesome (24 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

M
ALE VAMPIRE POSTURING
was a lot like male human posturing; there was a lingering stare that could be mistaken for sexual tension in another scenario. Also present was the metaphorical prick waving. It got so bad, I fully expected Max and Jeff to whip out their schlongs and beat each other with them. Maybe when they clashed, there’d be that humming sound of colliding light sabers. I’d have to close my eyes through it because seeing Mom’s boyfriend’s penis once was accidental, twice was perverted, but at least I’d be able to hear them thanks to the
Star Wars
sound effects.

“I have zero reason to let them go,” Max said.

“You have every reason to let them go.” Jeff leaned in, close enough to Max’s ear he could kiss it if he wanted (and wouldn’t that add another level of weird to an already weird evening) and whispered beneath his breath. I wasn’t good at lip-reading, so I had no clue what was going on. No one else did either. Mom leaned forward like she might be able to overhear if she got close enough. Lauren cocked her head to the side like a confused cocker spaniel. Lubov peered, and Ahmad... Ahmad went tenser, if that was possible. He was already a twitchy, rigid mess—a cobra raising its hood to strike.

Max recoiled from Jeff like he’d been slapped. I was now triply curious about Jeffrey Sampson; what horrible secret did he have that could make a city leader flinch? Was he that old? Was he that powerful? Was he vampire Gestapo? I had so many questions, but I didn’t ask any of them. I was too busy watching Max retreating. His unease fueled his ghouls’ unease. Lubov stood straighter, moving to stand by her master’s elbow, and Ahmad crouched, poised like a cat before it leapt onto a counter. Max put his hand on his lover’s shoulder and squeezed, warning him away from doing something stupid.

“No. No, don’t. It’s not worth it.
He’s
not worth it.” Max sneered and turned to Mom, his expression suggesting that if he had the opportunity to wear her kidneys as earrings, he’d do it. “Get out of my sight and stay away from my people. You’re free to do as you will. Maggie and I, however, need to
talk
.”

The moment his thrall broke on Mom she was up and off the couch, crossing the room to retrieve her stuff. I watched her reassemble her gear, layering it in such a way that she could move freely if push came to shove. The gun went over her shoulder, the stakes were wedged into their holders on her belt. At least four knives disappeared inside her boots and pockets. “I can’t and won’t leave you alone, and you’re staying away from my kid. I’m calling you in for kidnapping, forced ghouling, and two counts of magical attack, so get yourself a lawyer. You’re lucky I don’t call a scrub squad to wipe your ass off the planet, fathead.”

Max didn’t look appreciative. In fact, he looked furious, but that was the least of our troubles. Mom turned toward us, and as she moved the gun on her shoulder shifted, sliding down a few inches as its weight rebalanced. The barrel swung with it. Ahmad must have assumed that Mom went aggressive, because he became a blur of speed, lunging for her. He’d been wound up tighter than a bull’s ass at fly time since I got there, so I should have seen something like this coming, only I didn’t.

Before anyone could do a damned thing about it, my mother was lifted off her feet and thrown across the room.
Slam
! Her back hit the wall with a wet snap. She went slack, her eyes rolling up into her head. She reminded me of a broken dandelion with a straight stem and a lolling flower. Her body slid to the floor, her legs akimbo, her arms leaden by her side. Her gun was the only thing keeping her from lying flat; it propped her at an odd angle, like she rested on her elbow.

Looking at her limp form, I convinced myself Ahmad had killed her. And now he stood over her body, staring down at her like he was shocked by what he’d done. I shook from head to toe, wanting to cry and scream and hurt things. I wanted to beat him to death with my fists, to claw his eyes out for hurting the one person who loved me no matter what stupid thing I’d done. I didn’t, though, because Janice Rule Number One came screaming into my brain: when a monster shows aggression, you shoot and worry about everything else later. Monsters were faster and stronger, the only thing we had on them was the element of surprise.

If that was the case, this would surprise the crap out of everyone. I pulled the Glock and switched off the safety. Max screeched from somewhere behind me, panicking that I was about to cap his boyfriend. It changed nothing. I pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. The shots took the ghoul between the shoulder blades. The blasts made me flinch, my ears ringing at the deafening explosions in the small confines of the apartment, but I didn’t care. I watched the red blossoms appear on the back of Ahmad’s shirt, blood saturating the thick cotton before he staggered and dropped to his knees. He turned his head to look at Max with a wet gurgle, and for a moment I thought he’d say something.

I wasn’t down with that. I put a fourth bullet in the back of his skull, watching brain matter and bits of skull fly, some of it painting the floor, the wall, and my mother’s prone body. He fell onto his face with a thud. It was the first time I’d played executioner; whenever we’d done jobs in the past Mom was the one who pulled the trigger. That had all changed, and I didn’t feel anything. I was empty, a void. I’d killed someone and I didn’t give a damn. What did that say about me?

I ran through the room to get to my mother. I wanted to get Ahmad away from her, to drag her out of this place and call the police. To clean the splotches of blood off her face because it made me feel faint to look at them. None of it was possible with a vampire latched to my back. Max leapt on me, riding me like a bad pony. His fangs ripped through my shirt and ravaged my shoulder. I whipped around, lurching my way toward the couch so I’d have something to cling to. Max was lean, but he was a hundred and sixty pounds of lean, and I wasn’t used to lugging that around.

I used the butt of the gun to strike him in the face. A fang grazed the back of my hand, slicing open my knuckles as effectively as a razor blade. He growled and struck again, this time at my forearm, tearing a quarter-sized piece of flesh from the fat near my elbow. He snorted as he swallowed it whole, sounding more animal-like than human, and I screamed.

“SOME HELP HERE, JEFF!”

“Working on it,” he growled, closer than expected. “Get to your mother.” Max was torn off my back, but he did not go gently. His claws raked my chest and arms, flaying my skin wide. I erupted with fresh shrieks. My upper half felt like I’d been inserted head-first into a blender. I bled from my right shoulder and arms. I throbbed and hurt in ways I’d never imagined possible. The holy water dousing hadn’t been this bad. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. I was alive, but my mother...

I had to get to Mom. I had to see if I could help her.

I stumbled across the room, light-headed and woozy. I stepped over Ahmad’s legs, about to kneel beside Mom, when Lubov charged me from across the room. She was the bull, I was the red flag, and we were going to dance this dance. I knew she had to come after me on basic principle, but there was something sad about it, too. I wanted to like her, and this was definitely going to put us at odds. I mean, if she got her hands on me she’d pull me into so many pieces I’d resemble bloody Tinkertoys. There was no way you could be friends after something like that. Ripping out someone’s spleen was an anti-friendship activity.

I lifted the gun to fire, aiming for a shoulder instead of a kill-shot, but my arm shook so much, I could barely keep my grip. Before I could humiliate myself by shooting wide (or worse, not at all) Lauren stepped in front of me, braced her legs, and became a zombie wall, protecting me from the battering ram of a Russian headed my way. Between Lubov’s size and super-strength, skinny little Lauren should have been thrown halfway across the universe upon impact. A normal person would have become a human lawn dart, sailing through the glass windows and splattering on the concrete forty-four floors below. The good news for me and everyone else was Lauren had her own freaky-weird strength thing. She dug her feet into the carpet and shoved back. It was
Clash of the Titans
, except in this case Titan One was an undead girl who murdered ducks and Titan Two was a giantess with a propensity for tit smother.

They locked arms, shoving at one another. Back and forth, back and forth. Lauren managed to shove Lubov back a few feet, but Lubov was not to be outdone. She picked up an end table and chucked it because, you know, that’s what end tables are for when you’re seven feet tall and have nothing better to do. Lauren punched it to splinters. I wish that was an exaggeration, but the girl’s hand made contact with it and it exploded, sending pieces flying everywhere. I covered my face to avoid being impaled by shrapnel.

Lubov eyed her adversary before lifting Max’s fine leather couch. I had visions of her swinging it around like an enormous baseball bat, pummeling me and Janice with it until we were paste smears on the carpet. It wasn’t a happy thought, so I scampered over to my mom, looping my hands under her arms and pulling her across the floor toward the fountain in the foyer. She never stirred or made a sound. I whimpered aloud, wishing more than anything that she’d sit up and bitch at me for screwing up a monster job. But she didn’t.

I tugged off my sweatshirt so I could tuck it under Mom’s head. Every brush of fabric against my wounds made me yelp, and lifting my arms was utter agony, but I persevered, ignoring the fact that I stood around in a sports bra loaded with holy water balloons. I wadded the sweatshirt into a ball and slid it under Mom’s neck, my fingers hovering above the base of her throat. I didn’t want to touch her, afraid that I’d feel nothing, but I couldn’t avoid it forever.

I swallowed my fear and pressed my fingers to her pulse, my eyes drifting to her chest to determine if she breathed. I nearly squealed when I felt the faint beat beneath my fingertips. She was alive. Screwed up and completely out of commission? Yes. But she was alive, and maybe if we got the hell out of here she’d stay that way.

I was intent on getting her to safety so I could safely call an ambulance, but another fiendish shriek stopped me. I thought maybe one of the girls had hit the other with a bookshelf, but it was the vampires. Jeff had his arms looped under Max’s, holding him in a full nelson. Max banshee-wailed, his teeth gnashing, his feet skidding over the carpet. His eyes were red-rimmed and frenzied, a lot like Lizzie had been back at Plasma before she’d dragged me through the van window. It was that sub-human blood lust I thought they reserved for virgin snacking. Apparently, they could channel it at people they hated, too.

Lucky me.

Jeff’s brow was furrowed, his body plastered with sweat. He had to concentrate to keep the vampire in his grasp from chasing after me. I glanced back at Mom’s body. For all that I wanted to get her to safety, I couldn’t abandon Jeff and Lauren. God forbid something happened to one of them after I left. Sure, Mom was the most important person in the world to me, but these people had helped her, too. They’d come to keep her safe. They weren’t cannon fodder to help Maggie’s cause.

They were my bitches and I had my bitches’ backs.

I jerked a holy water balloon out of my bra, exposing a good chunk of boob in the process, but oh well. A little Maggie nudity never killed anyone. Ian survived it anyway, so I took that as proof that I didn’t turn people to stone like mini-Medusa. I pinched the top of the balloon closed and used a pocket knife to puncture the tie, oh-so-carefully holding it aloft. I didn’t want it to squirt on me, but I was willing to take the chance. It might be battery acid to a ghoul, but to a vampire, it was molten lava.

Approaching a frothing vampire intent on taking fleshy chunks from your person was a gut check, but I squashed the instinct to flee by telling myself this was what hunters did. They pushed their fears aside and got the job done, for better or worse. I lifted the balloon and gave it a hard squeeze, propelling the holy water at Max’s chest, doing my best to avoid Jeff’s arms where they touched. The moment it made contact with Max’s skin, there was a burning smell, like a hamburger left on the grill too long. Max screamed, his spine bowing into such a pronounced C I thought he’d snap in half. Jeff braced his legs further apart to compensate for Max’s thrashing. I pulled a stake from my waistband. I felt dizzy and sick, but I had to persevere. I had to finish it so me, Mom, Jeff, and Lauren could go home. Or to the hospital. Whatever.

Any place was better than this place.

“Do it,” Jeff said. My eyes snapped to Max. He screeched in my face, roaring like a lion with its foot stuck in a trap. Despite the ruckus, I could hear the holy water eating through his skin, crackling and snapping like a bowl of Rice Krispies as it melted his flesh to pudding. For a single moment I told myself maybe it was enough, he’d learned his lesson and he could go back to doing Pilates and listening to tidal sounds and birds chirping in trees, but then he hucked a huge, bloody loogie at me, gobbing up my right cheek. Any compunction I had about killing him went right out the window. Ghouling me, lying to me, hurting my mom, and now spitting on me—it was enough.

I’d had enough. Fuck him and fuck the horse he rode in on.

It hurt like hell to raise my torn, ragged arms over my head, but I brought the stake down all the same. It struck him in the sternum, making him howl as the tip raked over bone. I did it again, the second time jabbing him in the soggy, ruined cavity of his chest. Another scream. On the third go I paused, taking a deep breath to clear my head before aiming up under his rib cage on the left side. Janice had shown me how to heart strike on ballistics dummies before; I knew how to take a vampire out with one clean strike. And take him out it did. The moment the stake pierced his heart, Max’s eyes bulged, his body going rigid before he deflated like a man-sized balloon.

I could have done the heart strike the first time and ended it all in one go, but the fact was he’d made me angry and I wanted to hurt him. Petty, yes, but who cared. The important thing here was that Maxim, the prince of Boston, was dead and I, Maggie Cunningham, had killed him.