Honeymoon From Hell Book #1, The Neck Romancer
Chapter 4: When in Doubt
I think you know the deal by now.
This is a free look for my paid subscriber to look at what I’m currently working on: Honeymoon from Hell, book 1, The Neck Romancer.
Don’t blame me, I stole it from a guy who asked “Why doesn’t anyone use this in Vampire Romance?” Well, I did. So there, Rob.
Chapter 4: When in Doubt.
They made it to the pharmacy and the locker room without incident. Amanda carried the spray bottles of silver solution so she didn’t get it in the face during a melee. Marco was the most precise fighter she knew, but there were no guarantees in a fist fight.
In his locker, Marco grabbed parts of his kit. One was a sturdy silver ice pick, part of the collection of family heirlooms that had been donated to the cause by his father. The other was a gun in its shoulder holster with additional magazines. He slipped two more magazines in his pockets. He grabbed several more vials of holy water, and slipped a small box into his back pocket. He slipped a folding knife into each pocket.
Amanda hung out ten yards back while Marco approached the police with claims of mythical paperwork for Elise Baglio’s next of kin.
Her husband was Ahanu Achak, and he had gone down to the morgue to be with his wife’s body.
A quick Google search explained that the husband’s name meant “Spirit who laughs.”
Well, that’s a good sign, Marco thought sarcastically.
When Marco broke away from the police, he placed the paperwork on the nearest desk and walked past Amanda. She fell into step with him as he walked for the elevator.
“First thing is to make him talk, yes?” Amanda prompted.
Marco nodded. “Of course. If we can get him to shut down the wendigo—or at least hold it still for us—I’ll take it.”
Once they entered the elevator, Marco inconspicuously pulled his gun from the holster and racked the slide. He was going to use it sometime in the next few minutes, one way or another.
They traveled down in silence. Marco’s head was focused on what came next, playing every conceivable scenario, with and without a wendigo.
When the elevator stopped, the door opened on a poorly-lit hallway. Marco poked his head out, arched his brow, and said, “I suddenly feel like we’re in Alien.”
Amanda looked at him and gave a small smile. “We could always call for reinforcements. Then we can act like it’s the sequel.”
Marco glanced at her and raised a brow. “I don’t want to nuke the hospital from orbit. I work here.”
He led the way, gun ahead of him, while she watched his back. The only sounds came from the hailstones smashing against the building. They stopped at the door and peeked inside.
The only person in the morgue was Achak. His black hair was in a simple buzzcut, and his long winter down coat was bright yellow and puffy. He stood over the body of Elise Baglio, chuckling to himself.
The morgue attendant, who Marco knew as a friendly fellow with a fondness for pit bull puppies, lay dead on the floor, just as gnawed on as Baglio had been.
Both of them looked around, with no sign of the wendigo—unless it was in one of the drawers. A quick glance proved that they were all locked.
Marco stepped inside, gun raised. He circled left and Amanda to the right.
“Mister Ahanu Achak,” Marco intoned. “Get your filthy hands away from your wife’s body and put them up.”
Achak barely glanced over his shoulder at Marco’s advance. “And what are you going to do? Shoot me?” He looked over to Amanda and scoffed. “Or are you going to feed me to your undead whore?”
Marco’s eyes narrowed. “Shooting you was originally going to be a threat.” He swept over the morgue once more with his gun. Still finding no sign of the wendigo, he ejected the magazine. “But then you mouthed off about the love of my life.”
He swapped out the magazine for one from his pocket—he didn’t want to waste the silver ammunition on Achak. “Now we’ll just skip straight to a quick death, or a long life as a quadriplegic.”
Marco fired two rounds, one for each of Achak’s knees.
Achak didn’t even flinch at the noise. He merely stood there as the bullets sparked against something solid and invisible two inches away from his blue jeans. “You seem to have misjudged what you’re dealing with.”
Amanda growled and threw herself for Achak, figuring that throwing him around would be a good start.
Achak was a blur as he backhanded Amanda so hard, she flew back across the room.
Marco didn’t even think about how much information he would need from Achak. He opened fire into Achak’s back. He quickly emptied his magazine, each one sparking off a field of energy that deflected each round.
Amanda was back on her feet before the first bullet launched, but she staggered and braced herself against the drawers.
Marco reloaded the first magazine and slipped the gun away. He pulled out one of his pocket knives and flipped it open one handed. “What are you? A skinwalker?
Achak turned to face Marco, a smile carved into his handsome face like a gash in a headstone. “Wrong tribe. They are Navajo.” He reached down and pulled off his jacket, revealing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. Around his wrists were two silver bracelets. Attached to each bracelet was a delicate silver chain that coiled around his arms, and disappeared into his sleeves. The necklace-like chains ran all the way to his neck, where they met at a silver torc.
Both Marco and Amanda at least knew why Achak had deflected her so easily. Silver wasn’t as bad as holy water or a crucifix, but it affected all vampires—whether they went to confession or not.
“Nice jewelry,” Marco snarked. “Is it on loan from Wonder Woman?”
Achak smiled at him as he casually stepped to Marco. “I made a deal with those skinwalkers you mentioned.”
Achak reared back to punch Marco in the face, telegraphing it more than enough for Marco to lean back and let the fist fly right by him.
Marco shot in and drove his blade straight for Achak’s stomach.
The knife edge stopped short, just like the bullets.
Achak casually caught Marco’s wrist before he could recoil. He effortlessly pulled Marco’s wrist up and back until he dropped the knife.
Achak smirked into Marco’s face. “The skinwalkers made me impervious to all weapons.”
Achak placed a hand on Marco’s chest and shoved him back with his fingers. Marco flew back, slamming against the wall.
Yay. The drywall broke my fall, Marco thought with a groan.
“You needed all of this just to kill your wife?” Amanda asked. “Poison wasn’t cowardly enough? You had to get something else to do your killing for you?”
Achak spared her a glance and sneered. “My wife wasn’t worth the effort of sullying my hands with her death.” He raised the brackets. Glyphs were inscribed on them. “But these give me a wendigo. These are power. And I have a long list of people I would like to see dead.”
Marco straightened, and staggered before he righted himself. He rolled his shoulders. He felt the bruises that would form on his back and in his bones. The lycanthropy cure may have made him on par with an Olympic athlete, but that didn’t make being thrown into a wall hurt any less.
Thankfully, he’s showing off, Marco thought. If he meant it, we’d both be dead right now.
Amanda studied the glyphs and the bracelets, and smiled. “You shouldn’t have taken the deal, Achak.”
Marco glanced at Amanda, and met her eye. They had a long, involved conversation in the length of an eye-blink.
Marco’s smile lengthened. “She’s right, you know.” He strode toward Achak. “Magic-using things that make deals are terribly legalistic.”
The murderer spread his arms wide, inviting the attack.
“The skinwalkers made you impervious to weapons. Did you think that would make you impervious to them?” Amanda asked.
Achak blinked. His brow furrowed. He glanced at Marco as he stopped only a foot away from him. “But you’re not skinwalkers.”
Marco drove his forehead directly into Achak’s nose. It shattered. He staggered back, holding his face as twin black eyes already formed.
“No, you idiot,” Marco growled. “But we have skin.”
Achak stared at Marco long and hard. Then he looked at Amanda and smiled. He pulled his hands away from his face. His black eyes were already healed, and his nose had stopped bleeding.
Achak charged Amanda, his silver charms up and ready to hurt her.
Amanda grabbed a gurney and swung it like a baseball bat. It hit the field around Achak, and deflected him into the bank of morgue drawers.
Amanda bounded away from Achak as Marco drove in.
Achak turned and raised an arm to block Marco’s next punch. Marco’s knuckles slapped against the silver chain coiled around his forearm.
Marco grabbed the chains and pulled, ripping off a fistful of silver strands. Sparks flew from the point of disconnect, flashing like a bullet striking metal.
Marco bounded back. Achak charged like a bull. He didn’t even have the finesse of a boxer. One arm reared back, ready to drive through Marco’s face.
Marco charged Achak right back, closing the distance so fast, Achak swung too late. Instead of charging into Achak, Marco stepped past him.
As he did, Marco grabbed the torc on Achak’s neck with both hands, and pulled. Achak’s forward inertia choked him on his torc. His legs went out from under him as Marco yanked him back by the throat. Marco twisted around, throwing Achak face-down to the floor. Marco followed him down and drove both of his knees into Achak’s spine. He yanked back on the torc, forcing Achak’s face off the floor.
Marco grabbed the silver chains on the left side of the torc and yanked them off, then did the same with the right.
Suddenly, all resistance drained from Achak. The murderer slapped the floor, signaling his surrender. Marco slammed his forearm into Achak’s skull, grinding his head into the floor tiles.
“Now, shut down the wendigo. Put it to sleep. Put it back where you got it. End it and I may not cripple you for mouthing off to Amanda.”
Achak coughed out a laugh. His throat was sore and his voice was rough as he barked, “You broke the charm. I have no more control over it.”
Marco ground his elbow against Achak’s temple. “We’ll see about that. Worst that happens is we have more silver to use on the damned thing.”
Marco reached with his free hand for the bracelet when the silver sparked of its own accord. Marco pushed off the floor and to his feet as all the silver on Achak’s body sparked like a live wire. Achak screamed in agony. Suddenly, the silver burst into bright blue flames all around Achak. He wailed and thrashed at the flames. Marco and Amanda both ran out of the morgue as Achak’s entire body ignited. His screams echoed down the hall as the entire floor brightened with the all-consuming blaze.
Achak kept screaming until the fires went out, leaving nothing behind but a char outline on the floor, and bits of ash.
Amanda grabbed Marco and turned him to face her. She scanned him over, looking for wounds. Finding none, she pulled him to her and kissed him deeply.
Marco groaned in pleasure, moving with her, wanting nothing more than to stop right there and wait for someone to find them. His heart pounded in his ears. The adrenaline made him feel even more alive, and touching her was pure bliss, whether he touched her face or his hands wrapped around her.
After only a handful of heartbeats later, both of them growled in frustration, and they broke away at the same time.
Marco said, “Wendigo. It’s still out there. Damn it. Stairs.”
Amanda nodded. “I concur.”
They broke for the stairs at a dead run.