grabbed the roll of industrial-sized plastic wrap she had stashed in the car and set to work, winding it around his legs. It hurt to move, but she didn't have a lot of time before he woke up and not much more before his broken neck would heal. She hoped the plastic would hold—she hadn't tested this method.
Once she had his legs wrapped up, she started on his torso. Working with his dead weight was awkward, and the pain in her side was getting worse. She pushed herself to keep going, she had to finish quickly before anyone saw her. At last, she had him all wrapped up except for a thin slice of his chest, right over his heart. Sliding the six-inch bowie knife out of its sheath in her boot, she sat on his chest. She slapped his face a few times, and finally he woke up.
"Qu'est-quec'est?" he murmured, and then felt the point of the knife under his chin. He thrashed his head wildly looking around for help, but he was still paralyzed below the neck. All he succeeded in doing was getting his chin cut up on the tip of her knife.
"Hey!" she grabbed his jaw. "I just want to talk, okay?"
He stopped wiggling but didn't look convinced.
"If you tell me what I want to know, I promise not to kill you," she said in her most persuasive voice. "I'll leave you here and let your minions come get you when it's dark enough."
He gave her a long, hard look through narrowed eyes. It was clear he didn't trust her, but there was curiosity there, too. "What do you want to know?"
Tanya smiled. "Tell me the name of the most powerful vampire you know.” Her eyes flashed. “And where I can find them."
Etienne smiled slowly, not the expression she expected. Most of the time they were surprised. "Why do you want to know?"
"That's my business," she said, and poked his chest with the tip of the knife for emphasis. "Now tell me, or I will kill you."
"All right, all right!" he shouted.
She slapped him. "Quiet."
He glared at her and then muttered "Salope fou. His name is Seth, and he lives in Chicago."
Hm. Chicago. It was further than she'd had to go so far, but it made sense to her that a fat cat vampire would live in a big city. "Seth what?"
"Just Seth," he insisted, "like Cher."
She rolled her eyes at the out-dated reference. "He has to use a last name, even if it's just an alias. What is it?"
"Uhhhh..." He looked like he was trying to remember, but she could feel his hand wriggling under the plastic. She pressed the first half inch of the knife into his chest and he stilled—she would have to finish quickly; he was already regaining movement.
"Walker! He uses the last name 'Walker.' Now get off me." Clearly he wasn't used to people resisting his charms.
"Sure, just a sec." She slammed the knife down between his ribs, severing his aorta and piercing the heart. He screamed as she jerked it sideways a few times, making sure the hole was big enough that he would bleed out before he could heal. The old stake myth was a bit of an exaggeration, just about anything through the heart was enough to kill a vampire. It was a messy business, though, and his blood gushed over her hands and pooled beneath them.
"Why?" he rasped, blood rattling in his lungs as she stood up. "You said..."
Tanya smiled, triumphant. "I lied."
Etienne shook his head weakly. “But… he said…” Then he lost consciousness.
Tanya frowned. He said what? Who said what? But it was clear that Etienne would forever hold his peace.
Shrugging, she wrapped up the rest of his body, head and all. By now the pain in her side had almost stopped registering, which was probably a bad sign. The vampire let out a last groan, muffled by the plastic. Sadly, the plastic suffocating him wouldn’t be enough to kill him, so she waited until the rush of blood had slowed to a trickle before she pulled out the knife and wrapped the plastic back down over the wound. A wave of nausea hit and her hands shook a little, but it wasn’t from the sight of the blood. How was she going to get his body into the nearby dumpster with a broken rib? Even whole and healthy it would have been a challenge. It's not like I have super powers. She huffed, blowing the hair out of her face.
Wrestling with the plastic-wrap mummy, she managed to prop him up against the side of the dumpster. The blood under the wrapping and on her hands was starting to make him slippery. Just a little bit more, Tanya. She grunted with the effort. One last push. She crouched down, put his legs over her shoulder, and stood up. The body lifted, teetered on the edge of the dumpster, and then crashed into it, knocking the lid shut.
She stood there a moment, wiping her hands on her shirt and trying to breathe. The pain had returned with a vengeance so she would need to make a stop at the hospital.
First things first, though. She surveyed the blood on the gravel. It wasn't much, considering—the plastic wrap had turned out to be a good idea—but still, it would need to be cleaned up. She kicked her shoes off and threw them in a different dumpster, swapping them out for a pair of cheap flip-flops she had stashed in the trunk. When she returned to the metal door, she was pleased to find it had been left ajar. When a Master vampire died, all of his dependent minions died too. With no one at home to answer, it would have been difficult to get back in.
She locked herself inside the silent building. Quiet as a tomb, she thought, and suppressed a fit of hysterical giggles. All the adrenaline from the fight was making her goofy. The guy who had answered the door lay on a ratty old couch, looking like he was taking a nap, except his chest no longer moved. Contrary to popular belief, vampires did breathe, and this one definitely wasn't.
The warehouse had been converted into living quarters for the vampires, but only barely. Brick walls and cement floors still showed, and the rooms were divided with hastily-erected drywall. A quick survey of the place revealed terrible interior decorating, a la 1980s flea market, and a few more deceased vamps. A more thorough inspection would have to wait until she was clean.
Tanya found the bathroom. The shower was—thankfully—clean. She stepped in and turned on the hot water, letting it rinse the blood down the drain. Stripping, she let her clothes fall to the bottom of the tub where the water pounded on them.
As the adrenaline began to drain from her system, Etienne’s last words started to bother her. But… he said… Who had the vampire been talking about? And honestly, if she thought about it, it had been almost too easy to kill Etienne, despite the good hit he’d gotten in on her ribs. It was like he wasn’t trying to fight back, like he didn’t think she was really a threat.
But then, that wasn’t terribly unusual. A human wouldn’t expect a cheeseburger to suddenly attack them, so why should a lowly human like her be worth worrying about? She tried to shrug it off. Maybe “he” was something totally unrelated. Maybe Etienne had gone to a fortune teller who said he’d have a really great week. Who knew.
When everything was clean, she stepped out, looking for a towel. A whole stack of big, fluffy, hotel-style ones was ready nearby, and she smiled. Score. Tanya had learned along the way to leave nothing at a nest that could tie her to their deaths, but it was amazing what a person could cart off and no one ever missed it. The owners were all dead, and who else would know? Selecting one, she dried herself off quickly. A glance in the half-fogged mirror showed a colorful bruise forming below and to the side of her left breast. She
