The
day after Christmas dawned slowly, the light filtering through snow
and ice that weighted down the trees. The cabin was chilly when
Rafaela awoke. Gathering a blanket around her, she walked to the
living room. The fire was still banked. She stoked it carefully and
went to dress.
There
was no sign of Dirk anywhere. He hadn't even left a note. He was gone
without a word. Angry, she banged around the kitchen, fixing herself
a meal. She hadn't expected him to stay forever, but she'd hoped for
more than a couple of days.
"Why
should I have expected more?" she fussed as she turned on the
gas stove. "He never stays put. Always moving around. Was he
afraid I'd get tired of him and kill him in his sleep? Oh, wait! He
never sleeps! Next time I see the bastard, I'll skewer him." She
gestured with the chef's knife she was using to cut up an onion for
her omelet.
The
whisper of a sound reached her ears. It might have been an animal on
the roof, but she doubted it. Never one to take a chance, she ran to
the bedroom and opened her weapon's locker. She grabbed a variety of
weapons before sealing it shut once more. Four stakes went on a belt
around her waist. A gun with silver bullets was in her hand. Most
people thought silver was only for werewolves, but she'd learned a
long time ago that vampires didn't like it either. It didn't kill
them, but it slowed them down. The last weapon was a strap of knives
across her chest. Each was edged with silver. She grabbed one,
holding it in her left hand, the automatic pistol in her right.
The
sound repeated several times as she armed herself, and she knew
someone prowled the roof, hoping for a way in. The only thing
protecting her was the law that a vampire couldn't enter without
permission. However, vampires could use humans. They could
enter and drive her outside where she would be fair game. A loud
thump in the living room heralded the arrival of one or more minions.
Rafaela sensed their presence. Sniffing the air, she caught the scent
of three, but there could be more. If they found her in the bedroom,
she'd be cornered. Preferring to choose her own ground, she moved
stealthily from the bedroom, glad that the kitchen was between her
and the living room.
Voices
reached her ears. Were they complete idiots? Talking to one another?
Either that, or they were confident that she couldn't defend herself.
One of them moved to the front door. If he thought he could invite
the vampires in, he was dead wrong. She was sole owner of the house.
Then, she remembered the way that Dirk had gotten around that law.
The property could be rented. If one of the minions had paid a rental
fee. . . . She didn't allow herself to complete that thought.
The
voices drew closer. Rafaela shrugged her shoulders and rolled her
head to loosen tight muscles. Standing her ground, her back to the
bedroom wall, she maneuvered so she had access to the back door,
should she need it. She took her fighting stance and waited.
The
first around the corner from the living room to the kitchen, was a
tall, blond man with dark eyes. The way was narrow, partially blocked
by the end of the bar, which was adjacent to the bathroom door. The
door opened out, stopping before it hit the wall. They had to come at
her one at a time—unless one of them got the bright idea to vault
over the bar. She rather hoped they wouldn't.
The
blond vampire stopped when he saw her. His fangs descended and his
eyes turned black. "She's here," he hissed. He tried to
push the door out of his way.
Smiling,
Rafaela swung her knife, slicing across his throat. Gagging, he
staggered back, into the path of the next vampire. The small, Asian
woman shoved him aside as she advanced, climbing over his bleeding
body. She didn't even stop to see how he was, leaving him to die or
recover. She took a fighting stance as well, eyeing the gun in
Rafaela's hand.
"That
pea shooter won't hurt me," she bragged. "Bring it on,
bitch."
Aiming
quickly, Rafaela fired, hitting the Asian woman in the chest. The
bullet knocked her back, but didn't hurt her.
"Chest
shots are for pussies," the woman snarled as she lunged at
Rafaela.
"So
are Kevlar vests," Rafaela countered. She holstered her gun as
the woman advanced, backing into the kitchen, she drew another knife.
"Nice
try, sweetie," the vampire said. "That won't hurt me."
She jumped at Rafaela, blocking the Hunter's arms as quickly as she
swung.
Another
vampire came around the corner. Rafaela threw the silver knife at
him, catching him in the chest. He hadn't been as smart as his
companion, and he fell with the handle quivering above his heart. The
Asian woman hissed, lunging toward the Hunter once more.
Instead
of a knife, Rafaela took a stake from her belt. She fought with the
blade, bringing the stake into play as the furious woman advanced.
She kicked and punched at Rafaela relentlessly. The feisty Hunter got
a few good slices in. The vampire slid in her own blood. Snarling,
she leaped across the kitchen, fangs bared, in a last effort to
tackle Rafaela. Her foot slipped, throwing off her timing. Rafaela
dodged, bringing the stake down and around. She caught the vampire in
the back with the stake and sliced off her head.
The
blond vampire had recovered enough to try to stand, but he too, slid
in his own blood. Foregoing the knife, Rafaela grabbed up the cast
iron skillet she'd been using to prepare her breakfast. With a
metallic thunk, she hit him in the face. He fell back, tripped
over the downed woman and landed on the floor. Rafaela finished him
with another stake. The third vampire had removed the knife from his
chest, but staggered as the silver sickened him. Rafaela finished him
quickly with another stake.
Sounds
of fighting reached her ears as she cut off the other two vampires
heads. What was going on in her living room? Were the humans fighting
one another? She glanced around the corner, only to find total chaos.
A whirling, spinning figure leaped around the living room, jumping
over furniture and knocking people down. Two were already on the
floor, the third barely keeping his feet. Blood soaked her rag rugs
and seeped into the cracks in the wooden floor.
©
Dellani Oakes 2017
No comments:
Post a Comment