My Target Shows His Teeth

Nick

I don’t call up Mikey or Jim. I don’t take anyone along with me for this newest, brutal job. I just grab up my gun, and my Louisville Slugger… The second that thing is back in my hands I start shaking, and cursing myself, feeling I’m about to toss my fucking cookies.

I tuck it back in the closet and decide to blow the guy’s brains out instead. One shot, quick and painless. The boss will never know it happened that way. He wants the body disappeared in the river anyhow, no witnesses, no photos, and no evidence. I don’t need to be cruel. I am not my old man. I punish only people who deserve it, no more drawn out suffering, and no more collateral.

Instead of loading the revolver with regular slugs, I dip back into my case of cross-carved consecrated bullets. It’s kind of like a blessing for this poor guy I know nothing about, to send off his soul with a touch of holiness that can maybe serve the same as giving him proper last rites. It’s also a bit of insurance, just in case I run into Christian again. I’m not going to be caught off guard this time. I won’t be powerless, and I won’t be drunk the next time I go down to that hotel…

The hell am I thinking? There will be no next time, not unless I’m taking a whole crew of exorcists and enforcers right along with me. Even then, I’d need to put down that vamp before he could get out a single word, tell them all in damning testimony exactly what I did to him the last time we…

Here come the visceral memories: heat and squeezing pressure in moaning, writhing flesh... Shit. I need to shut it down and focus. I got a different job tonight, and that should be the only thing on my mind right now.

“Heading out again already?” ma slurs, when I emerge back out of my bedroom with weapons hidden tucked under my trench coat. I can tell by her voice and her unfocused gaze that she’s already a few drinks deep. She saw my expression the minute I got in, and she didn’t ask how things went with Alessia. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me setting out again now on another sick test of a charge from my future father in law.

I hold her stare, and I tell her glibly, “’Course not. You’re dreaming ma. Sleep tight and just… We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She slumps her chin against her hand in groggy displeasure, eyes welling with tears. “I need to say goodbye, Nico. In case you don’t… Your father… Carmy…”

“Carm’s doing just fine, ma,” I insist, but find my eyes shifting to that locked and lightless bedroom in grim concern regardless. He’s been doing worse lately. He hasn’t come out of that hole in days, not that I’ve seen at least. I really need to check in with him too, first priority when I get back. Make sure he’s still working on his degree, not just lying there depressed again…

It’s too much. Turn off the thoughts, Nick. You got a job. You need to move, get it done.

The address is on the upper east side – the land-locked slums of suburbia. I keep my headlights off and pull up across the street from that house. The lights are off already. It is well after midnight, so the couple have likely already retired to bed. That’s bad news. I can’t take my time with this, map the target’s routine and pick a proper time and place for an ambush. Boss says the hit has to happen tonight, probably because this mook is giving testimony in court tomorrow or something like that.

I ain’t killing his wife, but she ain’t supposed to see nothing. She can’t see my face as I drag her out of that room and command her to get lost… They ain’t part of the Family. She could very well go to the cops, and sure, I’d be out the same day they brought me in for questioning even if they did somehow dig up my name, but the boss would be angry I drew attention.

’Course, I could screw on my silencer, slip in the back door, clamp a hand over the target’s mouth and knock him out cold to keep him from making any noise, as I drag him out of bed and right out back, put a bullet in his skull without the missus ever stirring.

There’s a hell of a lot that could go wrong with that plan. She’s probably not that heavy of a sleeper. If she opens her eyes… I’ll just knock her out too. The cops won’t have shit to go off of from such a groggy, unreliable report.

I consider shooting up again before I head inside, to boost my strength and get full night vision instead of trying to fumble my way forward through a stranger’s pitch black bungalow. I rub at my forearm and quickly dismiss the idea. That holy drug is only supposed to be used to fight real demons, and anyhow, I’m still feeling the after-effects from last time: stiff muscles, numb fingers and low energy. I need another of Father Sicillio’s blessings, laying hands, before I’ll be back to a hundred percent, but I’ve been avoiding that visit, because then I’ll have to explain why I shot up in the first place when I never made a report of what demon I had clocked. Why I set out solo to put him down, only to fail, and allow him to overpower me, corrupt me…

Anyway, this is just some regular joe, some low-grade, loose-lipped rat that I need to go and silence.

I get out and cross the street, making sure there ain’t no lookie-loos peeping out from the windows of the other rundown shacks around me. No neighbors got their lights on, and the curtains all look closed. I’m in the clear. I keep to the shadows and slip around side of the single story house. The door to the kitchen is locked, but whipping out my crowbar, it pops open in a jiff. I could have done without the creaking wood and the snap of splintering siding, but I figure my targets won’t hear any of it from behind closed doors--

They ain’t in the bedroom. He’s sitting right there at the kitchen table. His head snaps up the second I bust open his door. I lift my gun in an instant. Then I see the body at his feet… His missus is lying pale and limp, stretched out across the tiles with eyes wide and staring. I can’t see any blood or bruises, but the husband – His eyes are glowing red.

I open fire, but he’s already tackling me to the floor, moving too fast to even keep a visual. My head cracks against the tiles, but a far more poignant flash of pain in the side of my neck has me gasping, back arching… The bastard went and bit me. He’s sucking on my neck like an alchy freshly crashed out of AA.His nails dig into my wrist and shoulder, but all I can focus on is the rush of euphoria shooting up through my bloodstream and setting my head to spinning. I don’t want to buck him off me. I want to knot my fingers in his hair, keep him pinned here against me, and savor this feeling for as long as it--

I strangle the compulsion, force up my gun hand and blow a hole right in this monster’s midsection. He jerks, the fangs releasing, and I squeeze off another two rounds, more carefully angled, right up at his heart. He slumps to the side with an animalistic whine, limbs curling to his body, as he starts shaking and twitching. Smoke pours out from his wounds, and his flesh rapidly starts to crumble into an ashy skeleton.

My gun drops limp to my side, and I watch his end with breathing ragged, trying to blink away the haze of blackened dots overtaking my vision. “Get up, Nick,” I mutter. “You gotta get outta here before…”

With great effort I lift my chin and set my gaze on the open door flapping in the breeze. I had my silencer on, so I doubt any neighbors heard the gunshots. Still, I can’t afford to pass out and be found here with two fresh corpses-- Well, one corpse and a pile of ash: all that’s left of the monster that went and drained his own wife…

“Who fucking turned you?” I mutter. I already know the answer. There hasn’t been a vampire reported on this continent in over 200 years. I found one the other night and I was stupid enough to let him off Scot-free, let him live to spread his curse to people like this unfortunate… This unfortunate threat to the Family that I was fully planning to waste tonight anyway, even if he weren’t a literal demon.

I lurch to my feet and feel my knees start to wobble, refusing to support me. I sway and almost face-plant, catching myself on the wall. “Come on, Nick. You’ve had worse. Now get a move on, you pussy.”

I’m lightheaded from blood-loss, pretty sure I have a concussion, but at least I didn’t leave any of my blood on the tile when I cracked my head against the ground. There won’t be any evidence to tie me to this scene, not if I can manage to reach my car and haul ass out of here before daybreak.

I make it to the car, and I sink down behind the wheel. The street before me is tilting, my vision still spotted with black. I am in no state to be driving. I’m going to be weaving and probably crashing into a mailbox, if not full on passing out with my foot still on the gas. I need to get to a payphone, dial up one of the boys to come meet me…

My vision cuts out, and I slump forward, right onto the fucking horn. That sharp blare of sound jolts me back awake in an instant, adrenaline spiking once again. Lights are flicking on in the windows now, and I need to get the hell out of here. I turn on the engine and gun the gas.

I make it about four blocks before a wild drift around a corner sends me crashing right into an oak tree. My head slams against the wheel, and I feel a fresh stream of hot liquid rolling down the side of my face.

The distant din of sirens reaches my ears, but I can’t get up. I can’t…

The world goes black.