Jeanne Stein - Haunted

The startled guards near us move toward her. The others watch in idle interest, probably wondering who Pablo will order to kill her.

He doesn’t. He goes to Adelita himself, picks her up and hands her off to the closest guard. “Amarrala,” he barks.

I feel relief wash over me. He’s ordering the guard to tie her up—not kill her. I indulge the feeling the second it takes to realize Culebra is no longer standing beside me, but has slithered in snake form under the plane, shedding a pile of clothes like a second skin.

My cue. I nod to Max and let vampire free.

I’m on the back of the nearest guard, tearing at his throat, growling in his ear. He drops his rifle and I see Max move to snatch it up.

Vampire blazes into full control. There are so many necks to choose from. She takes a mouthful from the screaming guard in her grip, then snaps his neck, moves to the next. This one goes down without a fight, too shocked to do anything but stare as vampire feeds. Six go down in the time it takes vampire to jump from one to the next.

Commotion on the other side of the plane. Culebra has made his presence known. Shrieks of panic, screams of pain, sweet perfume of blood. It makes vampire’s lust flare.

Sporadic gunfire erupts.

Then the hangar doors bang open and I hear footsteps racing for the outside.

Vampire is not yet satisfied. She follows the scent of frightened men. Her human consciousness tells her she should be looking for Pablo, but the chase is a challenge. She grabs two retreating soldiers, snaps their heads together gleefully, the spray of blood and brains a treat that she licks from her lips. She does it again and again until her hands are slick with gore and her own smell becomes an aphrodisiac ratcheting bloodlust to new levels.

More gunfire from the hangar. Human thought surfaces once again, questioning. Should she go back to protect her friends, or follow the blood bags running away like rats from a flood?

The decision is made for her. Vehicles with sides made of gray metal, a silver star emblazoned on the sides and front, thunder onto the airstrip after Pablo’s fleeing troops. They shoot at the backs of the soldiers who fall one by one.

No need for vampire here.

She whirls around. She can see what is going on inside the hangar. A giant snake has cornered a man and a woman. The snake hisses with a tongue like a split rope, turning every few seconds to strike at a soldier venturing too close. One is too slow. Snake catches his arm in his jaws, shakes him until the arm comes free, spraying blood. He deposits the arm in front of the cowering man like a cat offering a mouse to his owner. Bullets whiz through the air around it, but snake is impervious. The woman shrieks and covers her eyes.

Vampire knows there is someone else in danger. She looks around, senses alert for a familiar scent. She catches it above the intermingled smells of blood and body waste. There. Under the plane.

Instinctively vampire knows that he is who she must protect. He has his arm around a girl, pushing her behind him, shielding her body with his. He is firing his rifle, aiming at soldiers who pass too close or stoop to shoot at him. His face is serious, intent. The girl, whose hands are tied at her back, cowers close.

Vampire fights her way to him. She feels the sting of bullets in her arms, in one shoulder, but the soldiers feel more than pain when she’s on them and their blood flows in a molten stream into her eager mouth. One, two, three, four go down before her and then she’s under the plane.

The man smiles at her. “Anna. Take care of Adelita.”

The human inside responds to the name Anna.

The girl is smiling, too. Not afraid or preparing to flee. She holds out her hands. Vampire allows the human Anna to surface enough to tell her what to do. It is easy. It takes only a tug at the ropes at the girl’s wrists and they come free.

The girl touches vampire’s wounds. Her fingers are like a kiss.

The man is speaking. “Get Adelita out.”

Vampire gathers the girl, as light as her touch, into her arms. She listens to the rhythm of the gunfire, determines where it has slowed or stopped and leaps forward.

There is one corner where all the soldiers lie dead or still. It’s behind the giant snake and his captives. She makes for that corner.

Snake watches her come, but there is no challenge. Instead, he seems to bow his head at her in recognition. Vampire deposits the girl and leaves her in his care to go back to the man.

The sound of gunfire grows more sporadic. Most of it from the battle going on outside. But a group of soldiers are still firing at the figure under the plane. They are all around, knowing he is trapped, knowing he can only fire in one direction at a time. The plane reeks of spilled fuel as bullets pierce its metal skin. The stink curls vampire’s nose. The man under the plane motions for her.

“Get away,” he yells. “The plane may explode.”

But vampire makes for the two soldiers closest to her, tackles them to the ground, snaps their arms and throws their rifles out of reach.

The remaining three see what has happened. Turn their rifles on her. But bullets are no match for vampire speed. She attacks them before they can take aim. The first two, she kills efficiently—snapping necks that pop like dried wood. The third she takes her time, pinning him to the ground, letting him see her eyes before she nuzzles his neck for the first nip. He is too scared to move, to fight her off. His heart thunders in his chest, which makes the taking of his blood all the easier. She doesn’t have to pull with force or clamp tight lips against a squirming neck. His blood flows into her mouth with each beat.

His blood tastes the best of all.

In a minute his heart has stopped, his life force drained. Vampire rests her head against his chest.

Then her eyes drift to the man under the plane.

Blood. In a wide swath under him.

She doesn’t have time to resist the human’s pull. Anna is back.

“MAX!”

I scoot myself under the plane, ignoring the flashes of white-hot pain that shoot from my arms, my shoulder. I leave a crimson path as I crawl forward. I don’t worry about the blood. The blood could be mine, it could be my victims’.

But I do worry about the blood around Max.

I look for the source. I have to raise him up to find it—center back. My breath catches at the severity of the wound. He coughs and I lower him again, gently.

But at least he’s alive.

I cradle his head in my arms. His mouth is ringed with blood, dark, viscous. For once, the sight and smell of blood does not tempt vampire to reappear. I think she’s sleeping it off.

I listen to what’s going on around me. It’s quiet inside the hangar and only an occasional stray bullet whizzes outside. I won’t try to move Max until I know it’s safe. I’m debating whether to leave Max and look around when a familiar voice calls out, “Anna. Where are you?”

Culebra.

“Here. Max is hurt.”

In a moment, Culebra, back in human form and dressed, is kneeling to look under the belly of the plane. “Can we move him?”

“I don’t know. He’s been shot in the back. It looks pretty bad.”

He scoots down to join me. After he’s examined the wound, he sits back on his haunches.

I respond to his grim expression, heart racing. “Don’t say it. Max is strong. His buddies are outside. They can call that helicopter, can’t they?”

“Let’s get him out from under here,” is Culebra’s curt reply.

We do our best to move Max as gently as we can. I keep expecting him to rouse and ask us what the fuck we’re doing.

But he doesn’t.

When he’s out in the open, I look around.