Notice: The terms "bitch," "ass," "hell," and "shit" are used in this Chapter.
Chapter Seven:
"Second Time's the Charm"
The mall at which Alexandra worked, like the town it was located at the edge of, was surrounded by forest, an island in a sea of green. Kaleb was hidden, perched in a tree that gave him the perfect view of the entire parking lot and all of the mall entrances.
The sun had set, and the lights in the parking lot had blinked on, casting circles of illumination onto the black asphalt. The warm afternoon had turned into a cool evening. The parking lot was almost empty, save for the vehicles of the nightshift security guards and a few mall employees working late.
Alexandra appeared outside of an entrance and polished off a snack and drink. She took her time walking to her car, which was parked in one of the farthest spaces. She acted as though nothing had happened to her in the same parking lot just twenty-four hours ago.
A light breeze wafted past Kaleb. It carried Alexandra's delicious scent and that of … others.
Kaleb sat bolt upright, tasting the air.
The newborn was here. With his posse. They were about to make their move. And they were ravenous.
Kaleb moved along the branch, crouching so as not to give away his position. His keen eyes scoured the forest more than three hundred yards away, on the other side of the parking lot, and then the open space of the parking lot itself.
Kaleb could feel the consciousnesses of those within the shopping center and sense the black void that was Alexandra's mind.
No … Not entirely a black void … Kaleb thought, sensing something different.
Alexandra's mind wasn't completely closed off as per usual. She had opened it. She was using her telepathy. This was Kaleb's chance to —
Payback, bitch!
Donny.
Kaleb's eyes snapped in the direction from whence he had heard those thoughts, tensed, ready to pounce.
But he was too late.
The vampires had Alexandra in their sights. She turned to face them. They had her surrounded. Alexandra exchanged words with them, doing something with her hands, cracking each of her knuckles and then the joints of each finger, it seemed. One of the pack prepared to attack.
Kaleb moved to intercede. I'll not have blood shed on my territory!
But he froze, awestruck at what he saw before him.
What is she doing? … How is that possible?
I knew the second I stepped outside that my new "friend" from the previous night had returned.
With reinforcements, from the smell of things, I thought, delicately sniffing the air. That choking scent was overwhelming, searing the inside of my nose and forcing my eyes to water.
I wolfed down what was left of my soft pretzel, my fruit smoothie serving as a chaser, and then tossed the Styrofoam cup into the garbage can near the delivery entrance to the bookstore.
I blocked the distraction of the stench that perfumed the air from my mind as I stepped off the curb and began to cross the almost-empty lot. My mind was already searching for that of my "friend."
Payback, bitch!
I turned. Yep. That was definitely directed toward me.
But it wasn't my "friend" that was waiting for me. It was his backup. Four of them, one female and three males. They spread out, encircling me, keeping a fair distance betwixt us. And then my "friend" stepped forward, completing the circle.
"Man, you guys really reek," I remarked, their stench washing over me. "I mean, you four don't smell as bad as him," — I nodded at their leader — "but seriously — you guys stink."
"Payback," hissed my "friend," grinning fiendishly.
I forced my mind into his again. His name was Donny. And he wanted revenge.
"'Payback,' Donny? I think it'll be more of repeat performance."
Donny was taken aback by my knowing his name. I used his moment of confusion to invade the thoughts of his comrades.
The male to his left was a rather large fellow — much bigger than me — with a shaved head. His name was Tyler, and he was certain that I'd go down easily.
The male to Tyler's left, standing just behind me, was Arnold — a tall, gangly man with ginger hair. Arnold was just hoping that Donny would honor his promise to the four.
The male on Donny's right — Lewis — looked crazier than Donny. He stared at me as though I were a water buffalo drinking from a watering hole, and he the mighty lion stalking in the high grasses.
And standing between Lewis and Arnold was the female — Nikki. She was just along for the ride, here to help her "mate" if things got to be too much for him.
"Donny, do you really want to do this? Especially in front of your girlfriend?" I nodded over my shoulder at Nikki, giving him the chance to walk away.
A low hiss sounded behind me, and a thought flashed in Nikki's mind. Like I would ever be with Donny! He's too stupid for his own good!
"You're right, Nikki," I whispered loudly to her. "He is too stupid for his own good."
Amusement twinkled in Nikki's eyes, though she kept her expression as blank as possible.
Without haste, I commenced the ritual cracking of my knuckles. I continued talking, stalling for time as I explored the minds of my opponents and studied them.
"So, it's a fight you're looking for, eh, Donny? A rematch?"
"That's right," Donny replied in a menacing tone that was supposed to strike fear into me. "A rematch."
"Well, then how do you want to do this?" I asked, looking each of them up and down; I paused at Lewis. His eyes were unbelievably wild. Somewhere out there was an insane asylum with a missing permanent resident.
"Should I take out Lewis first, and then Arnold, Nikki, and Tyler?" I glanced at Tyler, who set his jaw. "Or should I start with the latter and go in reverse?"
"Either way you look at it, Donny," I said with a shrug, "I'm saving your ass for last."
With those final words, the thoughts of Donny and his crew went in ten different directions at once. It was almost hard to keep up.
Nikki's curiosity had been peaked — she was extremely interested in my means of following up on my threats. But she was also worried about Lewis, her "mate." She desperately hoped he wouldn't do anything rash and end up getting hurt.
Lewis … was the very essence of lunacy. He'd already formulated a plan in his mind that involved him double-crossing everyone except Nikki. He was going to tear them limb from limb and leave Nikki to deal with me. And then they would share the spoils of their conquest …
Tyler was, to say the least, pissed off. He raged at my implication of being able to defeat him. He didn't care about his and Donny's agreement anymore. He wanted me dead.
Arnold was torn. My threats had made him uneasy, but he wanted so very much what had been promised them all. Part of him wanted to split, to ditch Donny and the others; but part of him was so hungry … he'd do almost anything for a sip, a mere taste.
And Donny, of course, was left angry from my insults, confused by my knowledge of everyone's names, fearful of my threats, and thinking that he still had everything under control. I almost pitied the poor fool. Almost.
However, it was the thoughts of Arnold and Lewis that perturbed me the greatest.
Arnold was "hungry." And apparently, ganging up on me had something to do with satisfying that hunger. What exactly had Donny promised them?
And Lewis was literally envisioning himself tearing the heads, arms, and legs from those around him. I could just hear the cuckoo clock announcing the hour …
If it came to a fight — which it would — it was Lewis and Tyler I'd have to worry about. Experience revealed Donny to be a pushover. Nikki didn't want to get involved unless absolutely necessary. And Arnold would probably run scared once he'd seen what I was capable of.
"You're mine!" bellowed Tyler, breaking both my concentration and their ranks and charging headlong at me, moving much faster than I had assumed his bulk would allow. His arm was pulled back as far as possible, muscles bulging and tendons strained, hand tightened into a fist.
I adopted an identical stance, racing forward to close the gap. Our fists met, and a chorus of snaps and cracks sounded.
Tyler retreated only two steps, howling in pain. But then he was on the offensive again. I had barely enough time to consider the fact that a few of those snaps and cracks had belong to my own hand.
With an animalistic roar, Tyler rushed me, feigning to both sides and then coming up the middle. But I had read the attack as soon as the thought had popped into his head.
When Tyler had come within range, I roundhouse kicked him Chuck Norris style. I had to actually put some effort into it.
Tyler went flying across the parking lot and into the nearest street light, about fifty feet away.
The twenty-foot column of metal crumpled, bending backwards and landing on the roof of an expensive truck. The headlights began to flash, and the alarm system belted out a few notes before I silenced it with an unnoticeable wave of my hand.
I used my telepathy and peripheral vision to observe his comrades' reactions, each of my senses on high alert, each of my nerve endings a live wire. My encounter with Tyler had exposed something crucial — whoever the hell these psychos were, they weren't your average, everyday psychos. And yes, there was a difference.
They all carried the same pungent stench. Donny and Tyler had moved faster than any normal person could. I had to use force when fighting them.
What the hell are these freaks?! shouted a part of me — the sane part. That part was ready to lose its cool and run away, screaming its head off.
But there was another part of me — a stronger, more dominant part that I had never known existed — that wanted to fight to the last man standing; it found the prospect of opponents that were equally matched to me exhilarating.
My mind was equally divided, each half struggling for control.
I checked the standings of those around me in an attempt to clear my head.
Nikki was impressed; admiration shone in her caramel-toned eyes. She liked the idea that I wasn't going down without a fight. She was also gauging my chances of survival, and my once bleak odds were looking up.
Lewis was, well … still crazy. My ability to defend myself had apparently excited him, magnifying the craze of his eyes to a level I hadn't thought could be achieved by a single person.
(The sensible half of my mind quaked in fear, but the alien half was suddenly fully awake, vigorously trying to suppress my sanity.)
Arnold was ready to bolt; Donny had said that I'd been able to fight him off last night, but Arnold didn't think I'd have stood a chance against Tyler. Yet there I was, breaking Tyler's hand into tiny bits and kicking him across parking lots.
Donny was feeling doubtful. He wasn't sure if coming back for me had been the brightest of his ideas.
"No shit, Sherlock!" I spat at Donny, my eyes burning into his. "I doubt you have any bright ideas!"
Nikki snickered behind me, enjoying Donny's torment, and Arnold nervously shifted from foot to foot, indecisive about whether or not he should leave; things were getting too complicated for his taste. Donny, however, looked at me with wide eyes full of shock.
"So, you can read my mind …" he whispered.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," retorted a silky voice from behind. It was Nikki.
Donny shot her a spiteful glare, at which she snorted defiantly.
Nikki was quite content to let me alone. I had proven myself a worthy adversary, and she didn't believe that so many versus one was an honorable tactic.
Lewis was in the midst of calculating and revising his plan.
Tyler was MIA. He'd run off, tail between his legs, to nurse his wounds.
And Arnold had finally made his decision. He spun around and high-tailed it out of there.
"Anyone else want to follow Arnie's example and get lost?" I questioned, offering escape a second time.
"Shut up!" snapped Donny. His upper lip pulled back over his teeth as a growl came from deep within his throat. There was a renewed hatred in his eyes.
"You're dead …" he hissed.
"Bring it," I challenged, the half of me with — apparently — a death wish smothering its rational counterpart.
And then it was as though someone had pushed the slow-motion button on a remote control. I realized it was a sudden rush of adrenaline pumping through me, working overtime. It made everything slow down. I saw everything so clearly and in such great detail.
Nikki stared sideways at Lewis, her eyes silently beseeching him not to do anything foolish. She stood at the ready to stop him, but was unsure if she should become involved herself, her stance twisted only partly toward Lewis and her eyes clouded. She could see that his self-control was waning …
Lewis had Donny in his sights, a deadly glare that would have wilted flowers. He ignored Nikki's unspoken pleas, thinking only of the many possible outcomes of Donny directly attacking me. His hands were tightened into fists at his sides, and he was breathing heavily, as though he were about to explode, a volcano about to erupt. And the result of Lewis losing control like that would not be very pretty …
Donny was fed up with my impudence. He wasn't about to return to his master empty-handed, defeated a second time by a mere mortal. He released a feral snarl and then sprang at me, flying as though the air were thick and colloidal.
"Master"? "Mere mortal"? What?…
But I didn't have any longer to ponder the meaning of Donny's thoughts. It was time to attack. I crouched and then leaped forward, planning to meet Donny mid-air and shove my fist into his face with enough force that he wouldn't get a third shot at me.
Author's Note:
Ooh! A cliffhanger! Is that too mean of me?
Oh, well. -shrug- Guess you'll just have to wait for Chapter Eight, huh?
Until then ...
-heart-
Swarlos
P.S. I used certain words in this Chapter quite DELIBERATELY. Can you figure out which words and why???
P.S.S. I apologize for the long wait. Very, VERY busy ... So much to do, that I can't even begin to list it.
P.S.S.S. I also apologize if I did not reply to your reviews ... I read them, but didn't remember which one's I'd already replied to. But thank you for them, nonetheless! They are much appreciated.
P.S.S.S.S. REVIEW! IF YOU ARE NOT ALREADY REVIEWING THIS FIC, START NOW! ARRGGH!
Thanks to bluedinasour for unintenionally reminding me to add some details to this Chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own the manufacturing company that makes Styrofoam, nor that which makes the garbage recepticle known as a "Dumpster."
