Dark Fangs Rising Page 2

  It would take more than vampire claws to damage it. He gently ran the fingers of his right hand over the bands that sat just over his heart where there was a crescent moon engraved. The armor and swords were nearly as old as he was, his longest relationships, and after nineteen-hundred years, his only relationships besides the orange tabby grooming himself on the chair.

  Luke let out a long sigh, his face drooping and his lips closing into a frown as he squeezed his eyes shut, placing his head in his hands. “A gladius, a rudis, a set of lorica segmentata, and an Alfred…”

  “Mrao.”

  Alfred was sitting at his feet, staring up at him. He sat up and made room for the cat to jump into his lap. He scooped up the cat and held him close, supporting his weight while scratching his ears. “I’m tired, Alfie, so tired…”

  He listened to the music as Alfred purred in his arms. He’d hoped Portland would be a good place to avoid vampires, at least in serious numbers. When he’d picked it as his new home all those years ago, it was a city, but only nominally, certainly not one important enough to become a hub of vampire activity. All he’d wanted was a place free from his past and all the blood, but it didn’t matter how far he ran, he couldn’t escape his past. The vampires wouldn’t let him.

  TWO

  “Well, buddy.” Luke bent down to scratch Alfred between his ears. “I’m going to the Howling Moon for some dinner, so you’re on your own tonight.”

  Luke slung his backpack over his shoulder and pulled the door open before turning and looking back at the cat. “See you later, Alfred. No wild parties while I’m gone.”

  Howling Moon Brewing had moved into an old brick building on North Lombard Avenue just over a year ago. Since then, it’d become Luke’s regular watering hole. The beers and food were delicious. Best of all, the atmosphere was usually exactly what Luke liked. Often brewpubs were bright and sterile, but Howling Moon’s owners created a space both dark and warm. The high back booths provided intimacy ideal for a date night, or if you preferred, you could sit at the bar and chat with the owner or one of the bartenders. Best of all, it was a short walk from his home, and they left him alone after he placed his drink order, except for the rare times he felt like human interactions. Then, they were good for some light bar chat.

  “Hey, Pablo. How’s it going tonight?”

  Pablo stood about five foot six and had the brown complexion of Latin America that marked him as having indigenous and European heritage. His black hair was coiffed into a hip modern cut with the sides shaved and the top left long. He wore black jeans and a black tee featuring the brewery’s logo of a wolf’s head howling at a full moon. Tattoos covered his muscular arms.

  Pablo walked over, standing across the bar from Luke. “A bit quiet. It’s been that way a lot lately. All the crime on the news is keeping people home. Did you hear about the weird shit they found by the Portlandia statue this morning?”

  “I must have missed that story,” Luke replied.

  “They found a full outfit oozing some black goop. And get this, someone had cut the arms off the leather jacket. Weird, man.”

  Luke chuckled nervously. “That does sound weird. Anything new on tap I should know about?”

  “Yeah! I’ve got a Belgian-style wit I’ve been experimenting with. I think I got it dialed in.”

  “I’ll take one of those. Wits are one of my favorites.”

  “Really? Not IPA? Seems that’s all anyone orders these days.” Pablo grabbed a glass and poured a hazy blond beer with a thick, frothy head. “Let me know what you think.”

  Luke pulled out his usual chair at the bar, hung his backpack on the hook underneath, and grabbed his beer. “Nice aroma. Good balance between citrus, coriander, and grainy notes.” He took a sip.

  “Excellent nose,” Pablo said.

  “I like the flavor. Let me finish this glass, and I’ll give you a full report.”

  “Good man. You can’t really judge a beer from one sip. I’ll be back.” Pablo wandered off to check on other customers.

  Luke worked his way through his first beer, then another. Pablo checked back in periodically to see how he was doing. Luke’s dinner and a third beer showed up about the same time three guys walked in. Their popped-collar polos under jackets and their jeans with bedazzled rear pockets marked them as young bros who could be mistaken for University of Portland students if not for Luke’s ability to tell the living from the unliving. He’d have to keep an eye on them.

  He distractedly ate his dinner and mixed in a couple glasses of water while he sipped his beer. The bros chatted up a trio of women and then joined them in their booth. Fortunately, the mirrored back bar afforded Luke a decent view of their booth.

  Luke had only wanted a quiet night down at the local pub, but life and vampires in Portland had another plan for him. He was mildly annoyed by the turn of events. He ignored the flavor of the food, shoveling it down while trying to inconspicuously stare at the undead jackasses flirting, buying beer, and glamouring their targets.

  The crowd had largely thinned out as the evening progressed on what was a work night for the Monday-Friday crowd. After the last people in the pub who weren’t the vampires, their soon-to-be-victims, Luke, or Pablo left, the vampires gave it a few minutes before they ushered the three women toward the door, opting to take their meals to go. Luke made eye contact with Pablo, set some cash on the bar, grabbed his backpack, and followed the group out the door. After exiting, he heard the door shut and open again behind him. Pablo must be following him.

  The three bros and the women they’d glamoured walked toward the alley behind the bar. Pablo placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder to stop him from walking further into the alley and stepped in front of Luke, putting his body between the bros and his regular customer.

  “Step away from the ladies, gentlemen. Doesn’t seem like they’re interested in what you’re offering,” Pablo said, trying to distract what he probably thought were sexed up bros.

  Luke unzipped his backpack, grasped the hilts of the gladius and rudis, and slowly drew them from the custom sheaths in his backpack. “Pablo, back up a bit, please. I appreciate your effort, but you don’t want to tangle with this lot.”

  Pablo kept his eyes on the trio. “I’m OK, Luke. I can handle myself, and no one comes into my pub and assaults people in my alley.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. I’m just saying you should trust me about these guys. They might be a bit more than you’re expecting…”

  The three bros reluctantly set aside their prey and turned toward the interlopers. The one in the lead said, “If you two don’t want a rough evening, I suggest you keep walking.”

  “I think you’re messing with more than you can handle here. Leave the innocents alone and get the fuck out of here. Otherwise, things might get a touch…splattery,” Luke said.

  The three vampires chuckled, casually dismissing the implied threat as non-existent.

  “I guess our dinner just got tastier.” The lead vampire focused, making eye contact with Luke and Pablo, and tried to glamour them.

  “Look, ‘bros.’ Just get the fuck out of here before you regret your choices,” Pablo threatened.

  “You get the fuck out of here before we rip you a new asshole and then shove your fucking brown head up it,” the lead vamp said.

  “Of course, they have to be racists too. I guess they’re not going to move along. I’m not sure you need the hardware, Luke.” Pablo rolled his shoulders, loosening up his muscles.

  “For these three, yeah, I think I’ll keep them out.” Luke twirled the gladius once.

  Despite the distraction provided by Pablo and Luke, the three women didn’t move from their positions propped against the alley wall.

  “Hey, girls! Run!” Pablo shouted.

  Pablo’s shout failed to rouse them. The angry smiles of the three vamps got progressively meaner as their fangs descended, their razor-sharp claws joining them for the party.

  Luke st
epped in front of Pablo, keeping his eyes on their opponents. “OK, Pablo. Stay behind me. Try to avoid their claws and fangs, and don’t let them get you pinned down. They’re faster than your normal run of the mill beered up bros and a lot stronger.”

  Luke stalked forward, keeping himself between Pablo and the creeping vampires. The vamps opened space between the three of them, hoping to outflank Luke and attack from multiple sides. Luke spared a thought for his armor, neatly placed on its rack in his basement. He usually didn’t need it for trips to the pub.

  He feinted left and low with his rudis, then whirled and lopped off the head of the vampire on his right with a backhanded swing. He kept his rudis between himself and the other two vampbros. Taking a moment, he peeked over his shoulder to check on Pablo. The bartender had peeled his shirt off and was sprouting prodigious volumes of body hair and a lupine snout. “Shit, what have I gotten myself into?” Luke thought to himself.

  He carefully stepped over the decapitated vamp, trying to maneuver himself around so the girls would be behind him and he’d have the vampires between him and what was quickly becoming a very large werewolf in bipedal form, the hybrid shape that only the most powerful shifters could achieve. He hoped Pablo would keep his cool and not go berserk on him or the victims they were trying to save. He’d hate to have to hurt Pablo; he brewed good beer.

  The two remaining vampires suddenly realized that neither of the men were going to be the pushovers they’d initially assumed. The lead vampire eyed the sword-wielding hunter and the hulking werewolf, then settled his gaze on Luke.

  “You’re the one who’s been killing our brethren. You’re ‘The Hunter.’ You’ll pay for this.” His casual dude-bro dialect dropped away and was replaced by an antiquated, upper crust English accent. He looked at his partner. “Break free and report what’s happened here. Bring reinforcements if you can.”

  Things were about to get interesting. If this vamp was as old as his accent indicated, he’d be much more powerful than the newly whelped bloodsuckers Luke’d been dispatching with ease lately. It’d been several months since he’d encountered an older, more powerful fanger. Luke’s eyes narrowed, and he backed off a bit, switching to a defensive stance. He needed to protect those he could while keeping the vamps from scampering off. Pablo had finished his transformation and was stalking toward the vampires while ensuring he cut off their escape route.

  The British vampire pulled a long double-edge dagger from under the back of his shirt. As he slid into a fighter’s stance, it became clear he knew how to handle himself and his blade. His young companion, however, was a lot less cocksure than he’d been before Luke had shortened their pal by a head and Pablo’d turned into a massive werewolf. The younger vampire’s eyes darted around nervously, looking for an escape route.

  Luke narrowed his eyes, planning his next move. “Pablo, keep the little guy from getting away.”

  Pablo grunted and growled, answering Luke’s instructions as he slashed his gladius toward the Brit’s head. He met Luke’s sword with his dagger as the two blades slid together and down toward their hilt guards. The fanger took a swipe at Luke’s midsection with his claws. Luke slapped the vamp’s hand away with the flat of his rudis; when the silver inlay touched the vampire’s skin, he yanked his hand back and yelped as the metal and anti-vampiric enchantments burned his hand. He disengaged his blade from Luke’s and leapt back, maintaining eye contact with Luke. Blisters rose where the silver had burned him. He lost a bit more of his confidence, but his eyes narrowed into shrewdness and speculation. Shifting his feet, he put some distance between himself and Luke.

  The vampire crouched and then launched himself at Luke with a feral grin on his face, but instead of striking at Luke, he leapt high into the air over Luke’s head. The vamp dropped into a crouch, landing on his hands, and rolled onto his back and spring up again. Luke sliced his gladius low, cutting deep into the back of the fanger’s legs, and severed his hamstrings.

  The vamp dropped like he’d been shot in the head. “You bloody bastard!”

  Even downed, he was still dangerous. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke caught Pablo and the last vampire squaring off. Pablo had no problem keeping the other vamp occupied; of course, not much can trouble a werewolf in their bipedal form. Luke’s vampire was trying to scuttle backwards and away from Luke and toward the dropped dagger. Luke kicked it away, keeping an eye on the vampire in case it decided to lunge.

  The sound of snapping bones and tearing flesh from the direction of Pablo caused Luke to cringe involuntarily. He ducked as something flew past his head and into his field of vision and smashed into the face of the British vampire. Pablo had thrown the other vampire’s head.

  “It appears this night didn’t go the way you wanted it to.” Luke surged forward and lopped off the distracted vampire’s head. He flopped backward, his black sludge-like blood leaking into the alley. “Pablo, you better shift back and get these women out of here. The glamour they’re under is about to wear off.”

  “I’m on it,” Pablo said from behind Luke.

  Luke wiped his gladius on the vamp’s shirt and resheathed it in his custom backpack. He knelt over the headless body and set the point of his rudis over the heart, plunged it in, lowered his forehead to the pommel, and whispered the incantation that set the rudis glowing. Instead of dissolving into goo like the vamp from last night, the old Brit transformed to dust and blew away. Luke snagged the wallet out of the vampire’s pocket so he could check it later for any useful information. He repeated the process, finalizing the transformation from corpses to less solid matter on the other two bodies. When he was done, Pablo was standing at the entrance to the alley, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

  “Let’s step inside for a beer and a chat.”

  Luke nodded slightly and followed him in.

  THREE

  As Luke stepped through the entrance, Pablo turned off the “open” sign and locked the door behind them.

  “The girls called an Uber and got out of here. I don’t think they’re any wiser. They’ll probably just chalk it up to a bad interaction with booze and some douchebags,” Pablo said.

  “Yeah. They were glamoured pretty hard. That’ll fuzz out their memories fairly aggressively.”

  Pablo walked behind the bar. “Can I get you a beer?”

  “I’ll take a pilsner, please.”

  “Ah, a refreshing choice after a bit of a scuffle,” Pablo said sardonically.

  Luke took off his backpack and slid into a chair at the bar. Pablo had his back to him as he poured Luke’s beer and one for himself. The awkward silence was nearly palpable.

  “So, werewolf, eh?” Luke asked.

  “Yup. I know what I am. I know what they were, although this was my first encounter with one. But I don’t know who or what you are.”

  Luke set his rudis on the bar.

  “He called you ‘The Hunter.’ Are you some sort of vampire slayer? I’d make a joke about watching too many episodes of Buffy and getting delusions of grandeur, but that’s some weird ass hardware you’re packing,” Pablo said, glancing at the rudis. “I can practically feel the power pulsing off it.” He continued eyeing it warily, like it was a snake about to strike.

  “That’s a long story. One I usually don’t tell virtual strangers.” Although the two men were friendly in a regular patron/bar owner way, they weren’t friends. It had been a while since Luke had been close enough to anyone to tell them pieces of his extended past. He wasn’t sure about breaking his silence this time either, but they’d fought together—immortal vampire slayer and werewolf. It had only been a few months since he’d last seen a Child of Tutyr. They were masters of blending into normal society and living undetected by humans. He knew there was a pack in Portland, there had to be in a city this large, but he’d never encountered any werewolves in the over sixty years he’d lived there.

  Pablo looked down at his beer. “Well, you know my secret. I usually don’t wolf out around
strangers, but got a little over excited when the vampire fangs popped out. I’m assuming you can keep your lips shut about that.”

  Luke held his hands up to placate Pablo. “Have no fear. Your secret is safe with me. You’re not the first werewolf I’ve encountered.”

  “You’ve run into other shifters?” Pablo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Luke nodded. “A few here and there over the years.”

  “It’s obvious the vampires know who or what you are, but shifter lore doesn’t speak of a ‘hunter’ or ‘slayer,’ at least none I’ve heard. I’m assuming you keep your activities limited to bloodsuckers?” Pablo took a sip of beer.

  “I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of me. I’m guessing you were born in and lived your entire life in the Americas. My reputation, what little of it may still make the rounds, is mostly confined to Europe. You have nothing to fear from me. Bother me not and I shall not bother you.”

  Pablo relaxed slightly.

  “Vampires though. Vampires have feared me for a long, long time.” Luke chuckled. “I’m the bump in the night that terrifies the bump in the night.”

  “Are you human?” Pablo asked.

  “I was born one. I imagine I still am, although I’ve not submitted myself for scientific testing.” Sitting in silence, Luke took a few drinks of the pilsner, sizing up Pablo while the bartender leaned against the bar and drank from his beer.