Part Nine
Ty walked up to the warehouse. "This is the place." He was trying to keep from talking as much as possible. The last twenty-two blocks had been hell. He knocked on the door. "Ravensbane."
A smiling, perky blonde in a scanty red tank top opened the door. She hardly looked like the gatekeeper to a secret vampire hunter base. But that was the point, wasn't it? "Hi, how can I help you."
"I've got a fresh vamp vic here." Ty told her.
"C'mon in." The girl gestured them in.
Max stayed behind Ty as if worried about what she might find. Ty ignored the crates and boxes. He stepped into an empty corner and lifted up a sewage grate. He climbed down the ladder, into a clean grey concrete tunnel. Max was just behind him. There were three doors. He walked up to the middle door and knocked three times. "Ravensbane."
A guard let them in and they walked down a ramp, into the underground room that was the Lancer's base. It smelt slightly of dirt and musky earth smells. It was very dark, cloaking faces, people.
"Hey, Hunter, how goes it?" called out a group of guys sitting over in the corner. Most were wearing masks, others weren't so paranoid. "Where'd you find the girl?" A couple of them wolf-whistled.
Ty knew some of them, but not by name. Hunter was slang down here, for anyone whose name you were not told, or simply forgot. "Staked your ass, Hunter. Hairy and pale." Ty replied. "One of each, by myself. The girl's a vic."
They whistled in both admiration and admonition. "You keep taking them like that, and, well, you're gonna find yourself a grave man." That was a favorite euphemism for death down here. This was the biggest organization for Vampire hunters anywhere. They liked to play around here. It was a place where vampire hunters came to talk shop and goof off. Kind of like an exclusive bar but minus the alcohol.
But down here, you could lose a lot of your drinking buddies and fast. The death rate was obscenely high. Therefore, if you can't hang around with them, they've 'gone serious' or, in other words, are dead.
Ty headed toward the back. "Let's get you someone who can help you." He looked at Max. Her eyes had gone round. She was taking a good long look into his world, and she was scared at what she saw. She must feel like she's been tipped on her head.
Towards the back, he spotted Christi. She was in charge of victims. Not officially, but she was the kind of girl who always knew what to do. "Hi, Christi. I've got a reg' vic here. Shifter and vamps tried to have dinner. Name's Max."
"Oh. Still masked, huh. No face, no name." Christi asked as she regarded Max reassuringly.
Ty felt a pang of something, like he should have been the one to comfort her. He didn't know what he was thinking. This was a job for someone who could face cold reality and still feel human. Not for him. "That's right. I gotta go. Can you see she gets taken care of?"
"No prob." Christi said, "No prob at all."
Ty turned and left, somehow feeling like a traitor.
Max turned to Christi and asked, "Who was that masked man, anyway?" A glimmer of fear ran in her expression, as though she had lost everything that truly mattered to her. That perhaps, the sun wasn't going to rise in the east any more. And perhaps, it never had. . .
"Good girl," Christi smiled. "Still got a sense of humor. That was one of the tough ones. He lives for killing vampires. Nothing slows him down for long. He's a real hard ass, who takes measured chances and always gets his man. He's what you call 'the real deal', vampire hunter, killer, slayer, from the blood in his veins, to the depths of his heart."
"But he's only seventeen." Max protested, blankly.
"Yeah," Christi sighed. "But vampires make you grow up real fast. Some of our best slayers have been fighting since they were just kids. The lone ranger, there, has only been up to it for six months and already he's surpassing those who've been doing it for three or four years. No one can keep up to the guy. He just never says die. Did you know he used to come in here to train at seven in the morning and leave eight hours later. He wouldn't stop to eat. He brought a single water bottle and drank as though he resented the interruption." Christi remembered her astonishment, and her fascination. "No, that bad boy's got some heart. But we shouldn't be talking about him. . ." Christi took a deep breath, clearing those deep, haunted brown eyes from her mind. "You must feel awful."
Max sighed, "I'm not hysterical, yet. In fact, I'm blankly calm. I just need some answers, some sleep and a lot of time to rest."
Christi laughed. "You're one tough cookie. I can give you that. Most girls or guys, for that matter, when they come in here, just sob and scream. We generally have to keep them sedated while their brains adjust."
"If I start getting hysterical, I promise you can sedate me." Max said, with a wan smile.