The Man With A Thousand Faces: Six
by redmoon
Six
16 December, 1999, Haapsalu, Estonia
Logan leaned across the table, his mug of blood untouched. “I’m looking to get in contact with a certain vampire,” he said in a low voice. There was a moment during which the bloke on the other end of the conversation looked at him with dull eyes, waiting for clarification. “Where’s this William the Bloody bastard?” Logan hissed, keeping his voice as low as he could make it to avoid unwanted attention. For all he knew, Spike was sitting at the next table. Logan hadn’t seen him in decades, he might not recognize him.
The large fellow on the other side of the table took a swig from his mug, licking the blood from his upper lip as though it were milk. He made a sort of sigh and indicated with his thumb an even larger demon sitting at the bar.
Logan frowned, examining the big man from behind. “That’s not him,” Logan turned back, fingering his stake under the table.
“He knows where,” the man across from him prompted, settling back to his drink as if Logan had already left.
Logan stood, taking his mug and moving to the bar. He sat down lightly beside the large, dark haired man. Of course, he wasn’t really a man. His long horns twisted and knotted with each other almost as soon as they met near the back of his head, neatly concealed by his long black hair.
“I’m looking for someone,” Logan said in a very low voice. Half a dozen eyes moved his way as he spoke, including the bartender’s. Logan kept still, kept confident. His stake slid easily out of sight in his sleeve.
“Everybody’s lookin’ for someone,” the demon replied, lifting the hand to his mouth and biting off a third finger, crunching loudly. He set it back on his plate and brought a small napkin to the corners of his mouth.
“William the Bloody,” Logan said very quietly. The demon took the wrist of his meal and, in short needle-like teeth, tore a mouthful of flesh from it. He chewed with his mouth open, turning quizzically to the small human beside him.
“Eh?” He grunted, louder than Logan would have liked. Before he could repeat himself, the demon turned away. “Didn’t catch your name,” he said as he chewed, his voice deep and loud. Many eyes now watched them. “Never do business without a name,” the demon exclaimed, tearing more from the hand, “`specially when I’m betrayin’ a vampire to a conjurer,” he added loudly.
There were grumbles and mutters from around the bar and many eyes became averted. Many others, however, now looked at Logan, narrowed, some fangs bared.
“Would you shut up? I’m trying to keep this low key,” Logan said, hushed. He kept his gaze on the basket of fingers set before him.
“Loki, eh?” the demon grunted. “You’ll have to speak up. I’ve ears the size of fingernails.” He let out a roar of laughter, pulling another finger from the hand on his plate. He turned, at last, to examine his new business associate. “Loki was it? Well, I don’t care much for vampires, but I care even less for humans who think they’re better than demons.”
“I’m not human,” Loki answered, his voice rational and reasoned. “I’m a Specter.”
The demon squinted at him for a moment then his face lit up with amusement. “Good for you!” He slapped Loki on the back with a short laugh. “My third cousin’s a Specter. Loads of fun at parties.”
Loki nodded with a smile. “Tell me about it.”
“So who’re you looking for?” The demon asked again, keeping his smile as he munched happily on the palm.
“William the Bloody,” Loki said with more confidence. “I heard he arrived here from Tartu today.”
“William... William,” the demon pondered this. “Can’t say the I recognize the name... Did have a blonde haired set of fangs arrive from Tartu last night, though. Might be the chap you’re looking for. Stayin’ in the old warehouse three blocks from here.”
“He might also go by the name of Spike,” Loki said with a much restrained expression. He held it as a rule to never give away emotion to someone who ate your species.
“Spike, eh?” The demon chewed absently, then began to pick a splinter of bone from his teeth with a clawed finger... one of his own. “Can’t say I heard the fella’s name,” he grunted, “but I got contacts in the new world, I could let Spike know you’re looking for him- if you’d like.” There was a toothy grin from the demon, letting Logan know that whether he liked it or not, Spike would now know he was being hunted.
“Sure,” Logan bluffed, “if you could give him one message from me, it’d be appreciated.”
The demon nodded absently. He turned to the man after the moment of silence and could only let out a short howl before the stake slid through his throat. He grappled with it for a moment, his black blood oozing out, down onto his plate. He finally freed it when Logan’s knife sliced through his neck, rupturing what had been left intact by the wood. The demon gurgled and fell from the stool, a mess on the floor.
Logan glanced around the bar at the many eyes now staring at him. He took the knife and drove it through the plate, into the table. He glared at the bartender and indicated the black blood-covered hand sitting half eaten. “I ordered no sauce.”
Logan took his newly acquired nickname and reputation and strutted down the dark street, the knife again concealed, the small crystal orb he had brought snug in his pocket. His breath fogged in the winter air.
The warehouse was exactly where the ex-demon had said it would be. Logan stopped, leaning down and resting the orb on the gritty street, his breath making an orange cloud in the light of the street lamp. Tiny snowflakes fell all around him. He straightened, tugging his long coat into place. When the orb was settled in a rack in the sidewalk, Logan marched to the door of the warehouse.
With a vicious kick, he opened the door, the lock splintering against the old wood. “Hey!” he bellowed into the darkness within. When there was no response, he took a stone from the street and hurled it inside. “Hey, fuck-teeth! Come out and get some!”
When the enraged gang of vampires charged out into the street, led by a vamp with shoulder length sandy blonde hair, they found nothing but the scent of a human, and a small glass orb laying on the sidewalk.
The vampire beside the leader turned to his superior. “Shakes, what the fuck was that?”
Shakes turned around, assuming his vampire face, smelling the air. There was no sign of the direction the human had taken to escape. He had just disappeared.
“Wha’s this?” One of the lackeys asked, reaching for the orb.
“Don’t touch it!” Shakes commanded, too late. As soon as the vamp touched the small object, it cracked open, its thin glass surface scattering over the street like the snow, through the vamp’s fingers. Shakes smacked his subordinate across the back of the head, just as a small creature scurries out from the shards of the crystal.
Everyone leaned in close to examine what was crawling around in the snowflakes. Amid all the attention, the little thing hissed, making some of the vamps back up. Within seconds, it had begun to swell. Soon, as they could all see, it was larger than the orb from which it had crawled. Before any of them could think to squash it, it was as large as a dog, it’s eight legs dancing it from side to side as it supported its globe-like abdomen.
Now everyone had backed up, forming a wide circle around the spider which skidded back and forth in the snow, its head still getting up to size with the rest of it as it continued to grow. Less than thirty seconds after it had hatched, it was as large as a car and at last made a lunge for one of Shakes’ lackeys. The vampire tried to dodge the fangs, but the many legs soon had him, scooping him close enough to the jaws to impale him with the glistening fangs. The massive mandibles drew the shaking, screaming vamp’s head into the thing’s mouth and with a crunch, the lackey was dusted.
Shakes ran, as did the others, the spider having locked each of them into its memory. It charged after them, hissing and spitting.
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