Victor Gischler - Vampire A Go-Go

The thing plunged into the woods behind him, pulling closer.

Oh, God, I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to-

His feet flew along the easiest path, turning downhill. He stumbled, and his hands flew out to grab a tree trunk. The manuscript flew away.

“Shit!”

He didn’t pause, didn’t even think of stopping to pick it up. He ran so hard that he thought his heart would explode. Sweat drenched him.

A howl split the night-a single note, deep and clear, rising above the hill.

Allen went cold.

He entered a small clearing, knew he couldn’t run anymore. He would collapse any minute. He picked up a fallen branch and turned, backed up to the other side of the clearing, the branch held feebly in front of him.

Allen waited.

He saw the eyes first. It stepped into the clearing, moonlight giving it shape. An enormous dog. No. A wolf. Reddish-brown fur. Allen blinked. It was the same animal he’d seen so many months ago in the woods behind Professor Evergreen’s house.

That’s. Fucking. Impossible .

It took a step toward him, and Allen raised the branch.

The wolf threw its head back and howled again. Allen trembled. Allen waited to die as he imagined fangs tearing out his throat.

The wolf didn’t budge. A moment stretched. It howled again.

Allen sensed movement down the hill, heard somebody clumsily trudging through the bushes. Allen opened his mouth to yell for help, but his voice caught, fear choking him to silence.

The wolf howled again.

Distantly, a woman’s voice whined, “Okay. I heard you, for Christ’s sake. I’m coming.”

The wolf nodded its head, pawed at the air.

Bushes rustled to Allen’s left, startling him. A woman stumbled into the clearing.

Allen’s eyes popped. “Amy!”

Amy panted, held an armload of clothes. “Uphill? Is this revenge for dragging you up Zizkov?”

“Amy, stop. There’s a wolf.” He pointed with the branch.

“Yeah.” She plopped butt first onto the grass, still out of breath. “Try not to freak out.”

“What?”

Amy pointed at the wolf. “Look.”

The animal began to shake, going into rapid convulsions. It made pained sounds, whined and growled. Its back arched. Limbs began to stretch and elongate horribly, its muzzle distorting and flattening into a face.

Allen could not imagine a more horrifying sight than this creature melting and deforming, redefining itself, fur melting into flesh, this monster growing more familiar by the second. A scream. Human.

She lay momentarily in a fetal position, then stood on shaky legs, hands going to mussed hair.

“Penny,” breathed Allen. “Oh, my God.”

Allen’s world tilted dramatically. So many questions.

Penny stood naked, white and curved in the radiant moonlight.

Jackson Fay checked himself and the girls into a suite at the opulent Carlo IV hotel. He would plan his next move in comfort. He would need to locate Evergreen. He would need to determine if the man was a threat or not, prepare both defensive and offensive spells. Better to be over-prepared than under.

But at the moment, he was famished. Room service brought three carts of food and two chilled buckets of champagne. Fay had been embezzling from the Society for three years in preparation for his break with them.

Clover gulped a glass of champagne like it was ginger ale. “This beats the hell out of the service tunnels underneath Zizkov.”

Sam reached for a shrimp cocktail. “Yeah.”

“I could get used to this.” Clover stuck a cigarette into her mouth, flipped open her Zippo.

“Don’t smoke,” Fay said.

Clover froze, the flame halfway to her cigarette. “Sorry?”

“I don’t like the smell,” Fay said. “You have your own room. Smoke in there.”

She shrugged. “Right. Okay. I’ll suck a quick one. Back in a minute.” She went into her room and closed the door.

“She smokes too much.” Sam popped a shrimp into her mouth, chewed as she refilled her champagne glass. “Is there a spell for lung cancer?”

“Maybe we should discover one.” Fay sat back in his chair, looked at Sam. Long legs, tan. Athletic. Not very feminine in T-shirt, denim shorts, and hiking boots, but he could tell there was a good figure under there, and now that he’d eaten, Fay contemplated satisfying other needs.

He stood and plucked the rose from the vase on one of the serving trays. Classy place. Fay would never live in middle-class mediocrity again. He would always have just exactly whatever he wanted. This he vowed to himself.

Fay used the rose thorn to prick his finger, raising a drop of blood. He peeled off one of the rose petals, mashed it between his thumb and forefinger, then mixed the blood with it until it turned into a pink paste. Sam saw none of this as she hovered over a dish of caviar.

“Let me refill your glass.” Fay took it from her, slipped the paste into it, then poured champagne on top, muttering words under his breath. He handed it back to her. “Drink up.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” She sipped, smacked her lips.

Immediately her eyelids grew heavy and a dreamy smile spread across her face. She took a step closer to Fay, a soft purr coming out of her.

“I think you should take off your clothes,” Fay said.

She nodded, set her champagne glass aside. She pulled off her shirt, to reveal heavy breasts held back by a sports bra. She unclasped it, let them fall. Brown nipples poked out like pencil erasers.

“Very nice,” Fay whispered.

She smiled, unzipped her shorts and let them fall, stepped out of them and peeled her white cotton panties down over her hiking boots. Her pubic hair had been cut into a narrow line.

He cupped a breast, ran a thumb over a nipple. Sam gasped pleasure. He reached down to her seam, and she closed her eyes, moaned.

Fay thrilled at the moist warmth. Being the most powerful wizard on the planet was going to work out just fine.

Clover threw open a window, puffed the cigarette as she gazed upon Prague from her third-story window. Not a lot of traffic this time of night, but this part of the city never did shut down entirely. It was actually a pretty neat town, she thought. If she hadn’t been here on Society business, she would probably have found a number of ways to amuse herself. Maybe catch the night scene, scope out a few bands.

But then again, she wouldn’t have been here in the first place if it hadn’t been for the Society. She’d jumped at the opportunity. What in the hell would she have done with her life back in Evansville, Indiana? Jesus.

It was the Society that allowed her to go places, do things, be part of something. She couldn’t help thinking she’d bungled things with Allen Cabbot. She puffed, frowned, promised herself she’d do something to make up for it. Prove to Fay and the rest of the Council she wasn’t a fuckup.

Wouldn’t it be kick-ass to get promoted, learn some of the big spells, get in on the real secrets? Damn right. That would be cool.

She should probably get back to Fay. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But the bed looked so comfortable. It would be easy just to fall into cool sheets, catch a few hours of shut-eye. She’d been awake nearly the entire time since fleeing Zizkov, only stealing a quick catnap here and there.

Clover went to the vanity mirror and looked closely at her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and not the cool kind she did herself with makeup sometimes. Real dark circles. She thought her face suddenly looked ashen too. As a matter of fact, it was getting paler by the second, and wrinkles were forming. What the hell?

An old woman’s face replaced her own, emerged from the mirror.