Old Bones
Four a.m. in Key West. Barflies tipped off their stools. Vacationers trudged back to their hotel rooms to sleep off a tequila haze. The buzzing of streetlamps was audible, now that the island music had drifted away. Time for a dreamless sleep.
Rhiannon's shoes scuffed along the pavement. Closing time was a good time to patrol, just in case a vamp got the bright idea to munch on a bleary-eyed tourist. The paper landed on her doorstep every morning. Mysterious deaths increasing. Strange neck injuries. Yeah. Right. It was Searchlight all over again. The difference was, Key West had an inexhaustible supply of necks.
She read the storefronts. 24 kt. gold! Tanzanite! Diamonds! Kites for toys and sport! Key lime pie! A beer bottle rolled in the gutter next to Captain Tony's Saloon. Duval Street was a weird part of town, she thought. The brightly painted shops looked like Candyland and smelled like a mixture of suntan lotion, beer, and seafood. Behind the famous street, a narrow alley was strewn with garbage. Palm trees, not tall buildings, blocked out the light. Roosters and rats scuttled in the garbage looking for scraps. A homeless man barged into her shoulder and kept going, mumbling under his breath. Because he didn't ask her for change, Rhiannon knew something had scared him. She stood at the mouth of the alley for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. A breeze blew a strand of hair into her eyes.
Hunching down and patting the pocket of her cargo shorts, Rhiannon felt the stake. In this slightly-other body, she was never certain of things anymore, like weapons, even when she knew she brought them. She second-guessed, like reality might bend and take away certainties. Safety measures. But it was there, exactly where she put it. Rhiannon dampened her lips and took a couple of steps into alley. The backs of the stores were cheap, shack-like.
Noise from a nearby garbage bin. Not uncommon in the dead of night; predators of all sorts looked for an early-morning feed. Depending on the location, uncooked and or rotting meats were dumped after closing. Heads of wilting lettuce, rancid tomatoes, bananas past expiration for even bread. Plenty of newspapers kept one covered if they were looking to hide. Sometimes lumber from renovations. Hide the ugliness of real life so the tourists only saw what you wanted them to.
And it certainly didn't want to be seen.
The scrappily-dressed human had awoken to the noise. Urine streamed down his leg when he'd seen it. Instincts kicked in; he ran and left his companion to its mercy. Good; it only needed one to fill its stomach.
Sniff.
Another, in shadow just beyond. 'Ignore, and they will go away.'
Rhiannon saw the hulking shape. She crept forward on soft shoes. The air stank of warm trash and blood, so she put the back of a hand to her nose. Not all demons fed on human flesh; some took advantage of wildlife or family pets left to roam outside. The demon's proximity to garbage cans made her wonder if it wasn't just a scavenger, and in that case, she'd leave it alone. But scavengers didn't crouch over the still-twitching legs of homeless people.
She made a sound in her throat. Completely involuntary. Rhiannon watched the blood running over and in between the gravel. "Oh, you piece of shit." Going faster now, she ran up to the demon and grabbed it by the shoulders, hauling it away from the body with enough momentum to toss into the trunk of a tree. Whether or not the victim was dead yet, he wasn't going to spend his last earthly seconds being fed on by...
An enormous fucking demon. The tree had broken off mid-trunk.
"Oooh boy." Rhiannon put up her fists and resigned herself to a long fight.
The growl was guttural, deep, penetrating. It slowly raised itself to full height, over seven feet of it, more than two feet and a half across. It grabbed the end of the broken tree in one massive paw and dragged it along the pavement. Footsteps slammed against the asphalt as it approached.
It sniffed deeply again, captured the scent of the one that attacked. Labored movement, slow steps towards its new prey. It would feed well tonight.
With ease, it swung the thick mass of bark out in a long arc at the Slayer, connecting just below the shoulder.
Air whooshed out of the Slayer's chest. She flew into the aluminum side of a shack, denting it with her spine. As she hit the ground, a tingling pain shot into her arms and legs. 'Get up, get up fast.' She rolled to the side to miss another thwack from the tree trunk. Fuck, it was the worst thing ever when one of her moves backfired. Rhiannon disappeared into the shadows of the little shed. She emerged a second later with a metal garbage can. First, she slammed the lid into the demon's face, then she dropped the empty can over its head and shoulders.
Spinning around, she nailed the demon with the hardest kick she could muster.
Disoriented, temporarily blind, it staggered backward one step before it slammed a foot into the gravel. The ground underneath buckled and afforded traction. It swung the trunk slowly yet wildly as its other hand grasped the metal surrounding its head and tore it free.
Eyes burned a deep emerald as it scanned for its prey. It needed light; there were too many shadows in which she could hide.
An idea.
It dropped the tree and bent low. Both paws scooped up heaping mounds of gravel and with effort, hauled the miniature projectiles to its front and left.
The clumps of earth and rock peppered the buildings. Rhiannon stood up behind it. "Not so much." She stomped on a piece of the tree and broke off a manageable chunk. Then she swung it like a baseball bat at the demon. Bits of bark flew off at the impact. She felt a split forming along the wood and knew it wouldn't last another hit; It would fly apart like kindling. Wielding it like a javelin instead, she drove it toward the demon's head.
The creature raised its arm in defense. The weaponized hunk of wood sliced into and half-way through its right hand, eliciting a shrieking howl from the beast. Its prey was fast, agile, strong. Smart. It needed to close the gap and attack with brute strength.
Its uninjured hand took hold and snapped the protruding wood, and pulled back the rest. A snake-like tongue ran roughly over the wound, tasting its blood. Rows of jagged teeth appeared between parted lips.
In a move belying its girth, the monster charged at the woman.
'Shit!'
There wasn't time to jump aside. Having witnessed that it was top-heavy, Rhiannon dropped into a crouch and rounded her back. Its weight plowed into the Slayer, but it was somersaulted over her, and that saved her from being crushed. They landed onto the ground in two heaps. She rolled with the momentum. On her hands and knees, Rhiannon scrambled away from the demon, going for a recovery before it had time. It was bigger, but that meant she was faster. She also seemed to be smarter, but she needed another weapon. Her stake wouldn't get through its ribcage, and it would take ages to pummel it to death.
Wiping a mess of sweaty hair out of her eyes, she looked around. One of the shacks was a lean-to, which balanced on two wooden posts. She kicked at it one of them. It wasn't buried deep enough in the ground and it fell. The rusty roof plunged downward, its ruffled edge sharp enough to saw a person in half. 'Note to self', she thought, picking up the post, 'Stay the hell away from that.'
Rhiannon trudged across the alley, preparing to bludgeon it.
The roll over the female brought momentary disorientation. Her strength was surprising; for someone so tiny the human proved to be resourceful. It needed to bring the fight on its own terms.
Slowly it got on one knee, the right foot planted. Both hands pressed flat against gravel. "Mwwwwaarrrrr."
"What are you, a bull?" Rhiannon swung. Thunk! The wood glanced sickly off the demon's head. Blood splattered the ground. She wound up and hit it a second time, a third, like an amateur baseball player at the batting cage. Sounds of the struggle bounced down the alley: the thud of her improvised weapon, the grunts of exertion from the Slayer. The side of its head resembled raw hamburger, but she kept going anyway, because it took that long to knock it off its knee.
The demon tipped onto its back.
Blowing out a breath, Rhiannon moved closer and hefted the post over her head. She drove it downward, towards the demon's skull.
The scent of blood flared its nostrils. Anger coursed through its veins, and as the object she wielded came within its field of vision, the realization of a fatal blow kicked its self-preservation into overdrive. A sickening sound of bone slicing skin echoed as a sharp protuberance appeared under the demon's wrist. With a grunt, it thrust the needle-like point of the bone deep into its adversary's midsection.
Rhiannon missed. The wooden post dove into the gravel.
A tiny wince as she looked down. Realized they were still connected. A red stain spread across her shirt. Raising onto her tiptoes, she tried to lift herself off the thick spike, but it had gone all the way through her body. 'Oh god, don't breathe, don't breathe.' Rhiannon wrapped her fingers around the piece of bone, trying to hold it in place, so it wouldn't rip vertically through any more flesh. With the flat side of her hand, she struck and shattered it, then took a couple of steps backward.
'It isn't a big deal. I'll be okay...'
Not knowing if it was poisoned or not, she was in a hurry to get it out. Rhiannon reached behind her and fumbled for the pointed end. Her fingers trembled.
The broken bone caused excruciating pain, but not enough to deter it from its goal. It rolled over onto its front and pushed up via its knuckles so the creature could get a better look at the woman. She was distracted now, forgetting about the immediate threat to deal with one just past. With its reach, the demon swung out once more, this time with its opposite arm. Another piece of bone appeared from underneath skin and, shoving itself forward through its own blood and grime, jammed it into the Slayer, through her ribcage.
Things happened so goddamned fast. That was what she thought as the bone tore through her chest. One instant of carelessness -- of stupidity -- and everything changed.
The pain was like fire in her lungs. She coughed and tasted iron. Rhiannon found herself draped over the demon's arm, having to use its body to hold herself upright. On legs of gelatin, they staggered a couple of steps. Now she wished she had taken a breath before, while she still could. Any attempt to use her lungs now simply didn't work.
She blinked. The alley looked lopsided beyond the demon's shoulder, like the world in a funhouse mirror. Leaning heavily on the monster, she put her hands on either side of its head and twisted.
Snap.
Emerald eyes dimmed to that of a pale glassy green as the demon collapsed to its knees. A last, putrid breath escaped its gaping mouth as its body tilted backwards and thudded onto the gravel.
When it went to its knees, Rhiannon wobbled and went down with it. She had to; the bone was still in her chest. She fell forward and tried to brace herself up on one arm, shatter the demon's natural weapon with the other. But all the strength had gone from her hands. Another cough racked her chest. This time, she saw a string of saliva and blood drip out of her mouth.
There were tears in her eyes. 'Please no.' She squeezed them shut and concentrated on breaking the spiny column in half. She thought of Connor, how he would be all alone if she didn't get help. 'I can't be here just to die.' Her fingers shook and the bone splintered and gave. "Ah-- ow... sshhhit." Furious with herself, Rhiannon lifted herself off the carcass and took a seat in the gravel.
'Get your bearings. Get your PHONE.' But as she searched through her pockets, past the stake, the little switchblade, the keys to her house, she realized that a phone was exactly what she'd forgotten...
She didn't eat the hobo.
Deanna trailed through the streets after last call, shoes in hand. The alcohol hadn't helped; the cute blonde lithely dancing and casting furtive glances in her direction made things even worse. Gods, she wanted to take her home, lay out the woman, tie her up and drain the pretty little thing dry. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Doubt rose in the back of her head, voiced from something she was unfamiliar with. A conscience.
The night before she'd drained a chicken. A damned chicken! Barely enough to sustain her, and picking feathers from her teeth was a bitch. But it was all the redhead could allow herself. And now, when a panicked homeless man practically threw himself at her, screaming nonsense... a life that would go unnoticed, unclaimed at the morgue, she'd be doing the city a favor...
She let him go.
'Fuck, fuck, FUCK.'
Bare feet graced the pavement as she winded her way back towards home when-- Preternatural ears pricked up as she thought she heard a female voice coming from a block away. A swear word? Did it matter? Maybe her luck was turning. Maybe a drunk. Ooooh, maybe another vamp attacked a straggling reveller and left just enough for her to finish the person off. That'd be a mercy. Yes. A mercy. She could handle that.
Speed now as she ran towards where she thought she'd heard the voice. The wind carried the scent of blood. More than one if she was right. Another few steps, just down that alley. Eyes focused and caught a hulking beast sprawled on gravel, and a woman slumped. The redhead bolted to the scene, only to brake hard once she recognized the brunette.
"You've got to be shitting me," the vampire growled.
Footsteps. Maybe a savior. Mercy in the form of fingers dialing 9-1-1. 'God', Rhiannon thought, crab-walking backwards from the corpse, 'Oh, god, please don't see it and run away.' That was the thing with people. Sometimes they ran, even without a monster. Just looked away and pretended they saw nothing.
She didn't get very far. Her arms felt foreign. Lack of oxygen to the muscles, maybe. The tiny, wheezing breaths she pulled didn't supply enough to the bloodstream. She felt pinpricks of cold on her face. When her arms bowed, Rhiannon rested for a moment. Did she look a fright? Sweat plastering hair all over her cheeks, blood on her chin, something white and sharp sticking out of her torso?
Rhiannon looked up, but she couldn't see a face. "I j... I just need your phone." She barely heard herself. She tried to reach an open hand. "Please."
The redhead stared, dumbfounded. From what little she knew, the pinpricks of memory that at first flooded like the tide, of a life not her own yet so achingly similar, she wasn't on the same world she'd left. And clearly pushed back in time, from various media. The entire world wasn't Punking her. It was 2009, and this was a much younger brunette than the one she'd fought time and again. This was Rhiannon, and that definitely was a lifeless demon nearby. So. Slayer, even here.
A Slayer that had bested her once. And would again, given the chance. It would be so easy to walk away and let her die. Or drain her. It would be an act of mercy, for both their sakes.
It would.
It... would.
It...
"It's a shame." The vampire couldn't resist commenting as she pondered the situation. "You simply can't grasp the irony of the mess you're in."
A chill eased down Rhiannon's spine. Oh, but she could. That voice was etched into a memory that she'd brought here, not native to this body. The palm leaves parted. Under the glow of streetlamps, she saw the mane of red hair. It was just like home, only at home, this vampire was dust. A world away and five years back, she was as lethal as ever. And she was here.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Rhiannon felt a wave of genuine terror. She fumbled in her pants pocket and extracted a stake, but it was obvious from the way her fingers flexed around it that she couldn't hang on worth a damn. She poked the sharp end into her thigh and tried to grip it. "Deanna?"
She spoke the name, not knowing whether the vampire recognized her or not. A wet-sounding hack rattled in her ribcage. "Don't." She licked her lips and tried to scoot away. Her heels dug divots in the ground.
Deanna? The voice was too certain for a Slayer who was younger (and less experienced?) than her nemesis. It couldn't be her. It couldn't.
Deanna crouched, dropped her heels carefully on the gravel next to her. Her hand crept up, first to knock the stake away from the Slayer, then cupped the brunette's chin so that she could look at the young woman. Her other palm wiped away any blood that might obscure her features. The vampire looked deep into the woman's eyes. "You can't know me. This isn't my home. We never met. She-- I know this."
When Deanna touched her, the Slayer flinched. The jerking motion made the agony in her chest flare. Something bubbled in the back of her throat again, but it hurt too much to swallow. "I know you," she said. Maybe it was a mistake to admit that. Maybe it wasn't. The clock ticked. Every time her pulse beat, blood oozed out of the holes in her torso. Rhiannon's fingers dug into the pebbles underneath her. "Bet you wish you... had this for your book."
She tried to smile. She was going to die, with goddamned Deanna for a witness. Vaguely, she remembered a detail from Chicago. When the universe went white and she lifted away from the life she knew, part of her had wished for the redhead to be there. Rhiannon guessed in a twisted, accidental way, she got it. "Now bite me or get the hell out of here."
The book. The fucking book. "It's not-- it can't--" Scratch that, the redhead thought. She was here, in 2009 inhabiting another version of herself. At first the vampire believed it was an offshoot of the disembodied voices' second chance that she'd been offered. But as stubborn as the Slayer could be, she wouldn't willingly fling herself into another dimension for a rematch. No, Rhiannon would remain put, enjoying her one-upping the redhead.
"Don't tempt me, bitch. You sent me to hell once already. I'm entitled to return the favor." That was the vampire of old. The callous, cold-hearted murderer, who took pleasure in inflicting pain and death. Who'd dreamed of a time like this. Who remembered a dream whereby they both fell into water, and she watched as the Slayer slowly drowned.
She leaned in. Ridges on her forehead, yellow, burning eyes. Teeth bared.
Deanna paused. Pulled back. Leaned in again.
Stopped. Wanted to. Had imagined it so many times. Had tasted her blood once already, in a world already destroyed by monsters far worse than her. Worse than one the brunette had faced just moments earlier, and was paying the price for.
But. Deanna had her soul now. She'd asked for it. Why had she asked for it? What made her request this change? To be different? To be better than she was? How could the redhead accomplish this if she simply drained the Slayer and walked away?
But. The vampire was hungry. So damned hungry. The brunette's blood would sustain her. Push her forward into another night. Keep her existing. To what end? "Shut up," she chided herself out loud.
Nausea overcame Rhiannon. All the blood in her stomach, maybe. Heaving, she turned away and emptied her stomach on the ground. Her abdominal muscles pulled and strained against the foreign object poking through her midsection. The puddle was reddish-pink. Her view of it was covered in spots and she had a feeling she wasn't going to be conscious much longer. "I don't... have time for this." Whatever 'this' was. She flipped onto her hands and knees and began to crawl away, in the direction of the street.
There'd be a hand around her ankle. Rhiannon knew it, but she wasn't going to sit and wait for death. It, or 'she', would have to drag her down, kicking and screaming. She got a few feet away before her face went icy cold. The little rocks swam and rushed closer. "Damnit..."
She was out before her cheek hit the ground.
The redhead watched as the brunette attempted to crawl away, then collapsed.
For one who was between life and death, moments stretched farther than could be normally measured. What would seem seconds to one who took breath seemed like hours.
"Fucking hell." Leaving her shoes behind, Deanna stood and made her way beside the Slayer. She checked for a pulse. Faint, but clear enough.
She scooped the battered woman in her arms (was she always this light?) and carried her from the alley. Each step became faster, feet pounding the pavement until the vampire found an arterial road. She continued up the lane until lights from an approaching car caught their frame. Tires screeched and a man ejected himself from the driver's seat. He rushed over, but stopped dead when his eyes adjusted to the sight of the bloodied and impaled brunette held aloft by the redhead.
"Give me the keys," Deanna hissed. The faint odor of urine offended her nostrils as the driver stood motionless. "I said. Give me the DAMNED KEYS!" Gingerly they were handed over. "Now run like your life depended on it. Because it does."
Deanna eased the unconscious Rhiannon into the back seat before getting behind the wheel. She slammed the door shut, put the car in drive and broke every speed limit to Lower Keys Medical Center. She couldn't be bothered to turn off the engine; instead she ripped the rear door from its hinge and removed Rhiannon from the vehicle, and charged through the sliding glass doors of Emergency.
"Medic!" the woman bellowed. "I need a fucking doctor here! She's lost a lot of blood and so help me, any of you let her die, I'm gonna make sure you follow her!"