The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (18 page)

O
nce Dom made it through the gap in the doorway, he stood upright and held his dart gun out in front of him, ready for action. He stared at the shadows of the foyer with wide alert eyes as if something could jump out at any second. It was what, the third, fourth time he'd stepped into the vamp's nest? But his nerves still played up. They squirmed like tentacles in his stomach. An aged smell of damp and musk like old, wet cardboard hit his nostrils. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his flash. He flicked it on and the whole foyer was illuminated. To his left were abandoned ticket booths. In his mind's eye
,
he could see lines of kids, guys
,
and gals getting ready for their first dates, excited to get in the theater and catch the latest movie. Now, it was all distant memories, just a shell without an ounce of life left.

Above the booths in block letters read: ADULTS--$4.95, KIDS--$1.95. THIS IS A NON-SMOKING AREA.

Now it's just a non-area,
he thought to himself with a rueful grin.

He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand, licked his dry lips, and then began venturing further into the foyer. His feet squelched on the damp
-
riddled carpet, every now and then crunching on broken glass. Now on his right was a hot dog and ice cream stand; the cartoon image of a pooch licking on an ice cream stared at him in the gloom. The very thought of dogs and ice cream for once made him feel nauseous. He kept moving. Up ahead were various corridors leading to the screens. There were eight screens in all. He still wasn't getting any venom tingles, but with so many screens, it could happen near any one of them.

He steeled himself and decided to go straight for screen one. He dipped into the corridor leading to screens one and two. It was tight, dingy. A broken bench was lined up on the right-hand wall. On the left was a giant 1 in faded paint. Up ahead was a door.

"Let's go,"
he whispered to himself.

He went and eased open the heavy door; it squealed as it went, making his ears prick. He stepped into the darkness beyond. He rounded the corner, and down the thin corridor, his flash illuminating the whole area. Rows and rows of seats came into view one line at a time, all slanting downwards toward the huge stage at the front. The screen had been torn to pieces; it hung there like a ragged curtain. Dom trained his flash around; he lit up the backs of empty seats, some broken, others missing entirely. He turned and looked up to see more rows of chairs above him. The whole screen had an eerie, claustrophobic atmosphere. This once would have been full of movie goers; he could see the kids eating popcorn at the front with mom and pop, the horny teens at the back, their hands unable to keep still; movie connoisseurs enjoying the latest film noir; old timers catching the Saturday matinee.

He brought his flash around. He still wasn't getting any tingles, and the lack of any kind of activity was starting to concern him. Was that red headed fanghead really the only one in this massive place? That in itself was creepy.

He shook off the jeebies plaguing him, turned away from the screen, and headed back to the corridor. Once out, he checked out screen two, his dart gun at the ready. It was empty, exactly like one. The stage was covered in glass, the curtains half-drawn across the screen, ripped and torn. He sighed, finding himself strangely disappointed to not be locating any fangheads and vamps. It was almost like the tension was worse than the actual confrontation. He headed back out, stepping on the occasional piece of broken glass, the popping sound reverberating around the hollow room. Once out, he headed back for the foyer. While there, he thought about radioing in Trixie to update her but then decided against it. Any radio crackle would be amplified in such a hollow place, alerting any vamps and fangheads.

If I need her, I'll call.

He took a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead. His heart was hammering at a faster than normal rate.

"Keep it cool,"
he told himself, patting the air ahead of him in a 'calm down' gesture
.
"Keep it cool."

His chest loosened up a notch and he got going again. He lit up the sign reading: 3-4. He took the corridor the sign indicated, the carpet there stickier than the foyer. Old, torn posters surrounded him;
Batman, Indiana Jones & the Last Crusade, Hellraiser.
Pinhead's vicious scowl and black eyes glowered at him. Beneath, the strapline read:
He'll tear your soul apart.
Dom gulped, those nasty eyes were worse than the eyes of a vampire.

"
You stay right away from my soul, pal,
" Dom told him as he went past. Pinhead just continued to watch him. Without thinking, Dom made the sign of the cross on himself using the hand holding his dart gun; it was a gesture he hadn't made since he was a kid. He left the demonic depiction behind as he stepped into three. He moved out into the screen floor, his feet like Velcro on the sticky carpet. He looked around with hopeful eyes. Again, a broken, empty cinema screen. And once more, no venom tingles. He growled in frustration. He wanted the tingles, just to make him feel better about stalking around in a creepy, abandoned movie theater. All this second guessing made things worse, kept everything in the realms of the unknown.

Come on, Mr. Vampire, where you at, bro?

He wiped the grime from his forehead and turned back the way he came. He made it to the corridor and headed over to the big '4' painted on the wall. In his mind's eye, he could see the ghostly remnants of ushers collecting tickets and handing back the torn stubs with a smile and an 'enjoy the movie'. He followed the queue and handed in his own imaginary ticket before pulling open the door that led out to the screen. The moment he did, he stopped. His ears pricked. There was a sound in the near distance. Words; ineligible, but definitely words. A faint glow from somewhere up ahead was doing its best to illuminate the theater.

He glanced up to see one or two of the overhead lights were switched on, one of them flashing on and off in a random sequence. A small peal of laughter filled the air and in Dom's mind it was more akin to a scream. His eyeballs rolled, his lips were dry.

This is it! Get ready!

He tightened the grip on his dart gun. He went and hugged the wall next to him, before easing himself out into the theater, the whole time looking up, left, and right. As he made his way closer to the screen, the voices grew louder. There was a movie playing.

What the--?

He craned his neck upward while standing on tiptoe. From there he could see images flashing across what was left of the screen. Some black and white slapstick movie was playing:
Abbott & Costello
or
The Three Stooges
, something like that. He stopped, turned off his flash, and began taking tiny sidesteps out, his alert eyes taking in everything. As the seconds passed, the whole theater came into view. He pointed his dart gun at the rows and rows of empty seats ahead of him. He froze, his heart skipping a beat.

There was a solitary figure seated in the front row, facing the screen.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
rixie's heart began picking up pace. Anxiety gnawed away at her like termites. Something wasn't right. She'd been doing this long enough now to know when things weren't what they seemed. She shook her head, unable to rid herself of the apprehension suddenly plaguing her. She stared at the movie theater; it was now some kind of wild animal; a ferocious crocodile or hungry lion that had just swallowed Dom whole. It glared back at her with its windows for eyes, its teeth the row of wooden sheets covering the entrance. Black clouds had swarmed overhead; ominous, foreboding.

"No, no, no, something's not right here," she said to herself, her instincts spiking. In her mind, she could see Troy's sly grin in the gloom of the alley. His eyes glimmered with deceit, his contemptuous grin splitting her mind in two.

He lied, he lied, HE LIED!

She gasped, her mind and eyes coming back into sharp focus, the world around her a goldfish bowl. From nowhere, a Jeep with tinted windows came screeching down the road to a sharp halt on the sidewalk outside the movie theater. Before she had a chance to take her next breath, doors were flying open and a bunch of stocky thugs, their faces hidden behind balaclavas, torsos draped in black tees, legs clad in combat pants, jumped out onto the sidewalk with deadly purpose. In their hands were submachine guns.

Trixie knew what they were: mercs. And they meant business.

Her eyes bulged.
Oh, crap!

Without hesitation, they raced for the wooden sheets covering the movie theater entrance. A swift boot toward them and the path was clear. They stormed the darkness beyond a single file, disappearing from view in moments.

Trixie's mind fizzed with terror. She grabbed her radio. "Dom! Dom!" she said into it without drawing breath. "Dom, get out of there! It's a trap! Get out of there!"

She was replied with crackle.

"Argh!" She growled in frustration, throwing the radio to the side. She flicked her eyes back at the jeep and the movie theater. Dom had no idea they were heading his way.

Her instincts screamed. She had to do something!

She grabbed up her radio, jumped to her feet, and raced across the road toward the jeep. On reaching it, she checked inside. It was empty, the engine still running. A radio on the back seat crackled with chatter. She pocketed her own radio and grabbed her tranq dart gun. She'd have to take them out before they found Dom. She darted straight for the movie theater entrance and poked her head inside. It was a dark, damp foyer, the smell of musk barely registering above her sense of alarm. At the far end, she could hear the grunt of mercs communicating. She pulled out before they had a chance to spot her.

Not getting in that way. Think! Think!
She licked her lips. There was no other choice; she'd just have to evade them. She sank low and scuttled through the entrance before melting in with the shadows constructing the inner sanctum of the foyer. She pushed tight against the wall and waited in the dark like a thief, waited for just the right time, just when she had the best chance to elude them.

She hoped it wouldn't be too late for Dom.

D
om licked his dry lips and tightened his grip on his dart gun. He began edging along the sticky carpet toward the front of the theater. As he approached, Dom could see that the figure was Redhead. He remained stationary in his end-row seat, his gaze fixed on the movie. Every now and then he put a hand up to his mouth, his lower jaw remaining in a constant chewing motion. Dom crept along, trying his best to keep his breathing shallow so as not to alert the avid movie goer to his presence. He had a quick glance left and right; his eyes were met with empty, broken seats. He stared ahead again. On the screen, the Wolf Man was going for Abbott, or was it Costello? It was the chubby one, the less serious, jokey one of the two.

Redhead was absorbed in the movie, chewing on his burger and fries, his stare fixed on the broken screen. Dom made it about halfway, still creeping along like the Grim Reaper about to lay claim to another soul. He was caught in two minds whether to just storm up to Redhead and hit him with a tranq, or to play it stealthy, poke the gun in his face and fire him with questions instead of darts. Something was definitely up here; he needed answers. Answers like: where's the vamp at, homie?

And as Redhead was the only form of life he'd detected the whole time since being in the theater, he'd need him to be conscious to answer any questions.

He made the quick decision to just go and get info from him.

Then knock him out
.

Dom moved like a shadow through the aisle, his knees slightly bent
,
his gun at the ready. Redhead was oblivious, enjoying his burger and movie. Dom made it to within a few rows of his seat and he could hear the rustle of the McDonald's bag as he dug more fries out from inside; his jaw clicked as it moved up and down like a weary piston. The sickly-sweet aroma of deep fried food and processed sauces hit Dom's nostrils, a complete contrast to the musk and damp of the theater.

The fat guy on-screen let out an exaggerated scream just as Dom made it to the row behind Redhead. Dom licked his lips, then moved the gun across the air, almost touching the back of Redhead's red head with the muzzle. He sucked in a deep breath and then pushed the muzzle into his shock of red hair. "Don't move!" Dom ordered in a cold voice.