What Screams May Come Read online

  “Just keep looking at me, okay? The whole time,” she said. Her knuckles were red from Agent James squeezing her hand. If it caused her any pain, she gave no sign.

  “Just one moment,” I said. “This one will have to come out more gradually.”

  “Okay,” said Agent James, tensing up.

  “Ready?” I asked. “One…”

  I pulled the claw out in a curving motion, following the path of the wound and quick as a whip. Agent James gasped as he lurched forward, collapsing into Samantha’s arms. She caught him and patted his back. Having fully composed herself now, she donned the powerful expression of Mother Samantha, Dulcie’s endearing friend for whom all crises were but trifles and all problems easily solved.

  “Can you sit up for me?” she asked.

  He managed to prop himself up with a fair bit of grunting, and Samantha set to work cleaning and covering the wounds. If his wounds were ghastly before, they were downright obscene now. The mere observation of them wounded the eyes. The three holes on his front side were large and red and black, pulsating flesh on the verge of bursting apart. The blood oozed from them like water sliding down a stalactite. His entire right side was drenched in crimson, reaching the top half of his jeans, which were now a sick purple color that went all the way down to his knee. He took a deep breath, but didn’t scream when Samantha poured alcohol onto a square of gauze and gently patted him down with it.

  “I would offer your special friend my blood,” I started as I faced Samanth who looked up at me in wonder. “But A. I do not imagine my suggestion would fall on receptive ears; and B. I am reasonably certain the Siphon parts of Agent James’ person will not allow any intrusion of supernatural blood in his veins, no matter how much his body might need it.”

  Siphons were a peculiar brand of government-funded humans with exceptional abilities but they could not tolerate a blood transfusion from a magical creature such as myself.

  “Thank you for offering, Bram,” Samantha said, her eyes still wide with wonder. “But, you’re right—your blood would probably kill him.”

  I nodded and chose to stand beside Dulcie on the other side of the beast. She held her hand under her chin, pondering the creature.

  “Oh, dear,” I said.

  “Yep,” said Dulcie.

  The roads were already in terrible disrepair from the earthquakes Dulcie caused during the annihilation of the ANC, but at least their poor conditions ensured careful driving. Now a deep crater was formed after a meteor seemed to have landed in the middle of Samantha’s driveway. It was the width of an average car and the depth of a kiddie pool. Samantha couldn’t go anywhere, not unless her car could vault the hole.

  The creature lay on its back, its lifeless wings stretched wide, the unstained concrete turning dark crimson as it bled. The light was dim and the shadows obscured most of the scenery, but using our enhanced sight in the sudden stillness, Dulcie and I saw more clearly than the others. All Samantha and Agent James could distinguish was a vague, distorted, black blob, and possibly a tail or a flash of claws.

  “What is that thing?” asked Agent James, looking between us.

  “I have no idea,” Dulcie answered.

  The monster appeared slightly human, like a transformed werewolf. Its entire body was covered in hair that was previously grey and black but now, a deep, ugly scarlet. It had long protruding fangs, curling black claws at the end of every finger, and paws rather than feet at the ends of its legs, which bent the opposite way of most familiar creatures. A strange combination, but all the same, a form I recognized.

  “Bram?” asked Dulcie as she faced me.

  I shrugged. “It looks like a potpourri of different creatures,” I said. “An abomination. A beast comprised of the worst evil, if I had to guess.”

  “An abomination?” Agent James repeated, his breath rasping.

  I nodded. “A creature born from foul magic, usually by the fusion of something living with the newly risen forms of the recently dead. Necromancy at its core. Nasty business.”

  “So, is it dead?” Agent James asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, “and no. To properly kill an abomination, one must kill the soul that is animating it. That can only be done with the use of precious metals or an unimaginable amount of fire—neither of which I currently have any access to.”

  “Soul,” said Samantha, “as in… as in a person’s soul?”

  I nodded. If an abomination was indeed what we were now looking at, it meant at least one being, presumably innocent, at least by modern standards, must have been sacrificed in its creation. Perhaps plenty of other beings also died so that this terrible monster could live. I sincerely doubted Meg, or the warlock Meg coerced into whipping this thing into existence, would have gone grave-digging for her little science project. But necromancy was always easier with the freshly dead. Or so I have been told.

  As I said. Nasty, repulsive business.

  But a more callous observation dominated my thoughts: the work was shockingly well done. Studying it closer, I could see all the different creatures that were fused together—a griffon or a manticore provided the clawed legs, a fur dragon donated the wings, a werewolf comprised most of the body, definitely a manticore’s tail. For the most part, I could scarcely tell where one creature ended and the next began.

  “Necromantic fusion is almost always ridiculously obvious,” I explained. “Splicing any number of creatures, be they two or two thousand, and trying to merge the opposing genes into one functioning biological entity is a nightmare in itself. Making that creature autonomous is an even worse nightmare—souls are, predictably, reluctant to occupy new, unholy bodies; and they can be permanently destroyed in the fusion process with homebrewed monsters.”

  “But?” Dulcie said as she faced me.

  I nodded. “But this anomaly is seamless in its connections between the various creatures. The conspicuous absence of sutures and scars without a single cauterized wound from all the lightning that is required in the process… The result is incredible. The magical equivalent of extracting an entire Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup from its wrapper without tearing anything or ever touching the wrapper in the first place.”

  “Fuck,” Dulcie answered.

  “Fuck, indeed,” I said with a nod.

  “Essentially impossible, and yet, undeniably impressive.”

  “Impressive is bad,” Dulcie said.

  “Whoever did this was extremely talented,” I said, scratching my chin for emphasis as I continued to stare at it.

  “Could Meg be responsible?” Samantha asked quietly. She was standing very close to Agent James, and his arm was wrapped around her. The suspicious glances he aimed at me made me wonder if he thought I might decide to drink her blood dry on a whim. I also wondered if she described our brief and unfortunate relationship.

  Forgive me, Samantha, I thought, pitying her. You deserved much better than my poor treatment and excuse for companionship. At the time, Samantha was the only vehicle I perceived in my effort to capture Dulcie’s rare and delicious attention. I know not why I thought such an approach could work, and courting Samantha had landed me in exactly the opposite role I desired.

  Samantha is beautiful and intelligent, and I dare not insult her in any way… but she cannot hold a candle to Dulcie, not in my perception.

  I blinked, seeing Samantha staring at me with confusion, and realized I was also staring at her.

  “Bram?” said Dulcie. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “Did you address me?”

  Dulcie rolled her eyes, putting one hand on her hip and gesturing irritably at the abomination with the other. “Could Meg have possibly made this? Whatever it is?”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps. You witnessed the kind of power she has access to firsthand, and also felt it in this beast. At the very least, it reeks of her, so perhaps it is her calling card.”

  “What?” said Agent James, frowning.

  I sighed. “The mons
ter emitted Meg’s bad magic. So regardless of whether or not Meg was directly responsible for its creation, she undoubtedly has some connection to it. I think it most likely came here to kill one of you, possibly our lovely lady, Samantha.”

  Samantha scowled at me, but I could hear her pulse growing ever so slightly faster.

  “What? Why?” Dulcie asked.

  “Why do you think?” I asked as I looked at Dulcie. “Revenge. Remember our old friend, the dreamstalker?” It had been quite a while since the dreamstalker incident occurred, but Dulcie would have remembered it well. Whatever the convict’s name was, upon being released from prison for good behavior, he decided to get even with our Dulcie by killing all the people she knew—starting, for some reason, with her primary school classmates, people Dulcie hadn’t seen in years. Points for enthusiasm and motivation, but his execution was hilariously inefficient.

  He eventually made his way to Samantha. And, of course, the rapid transition from targeting relative strangers to her best friend did not sit well with our dear Dulcie.

  “What’s your point?” Dulcie demanded.

  “Apparently you have been through enough this evening that you cannot connect the dots?” I asked her with a telling smile.

  “No,” she answered. “Connect them for me.”

  “Perhaps the creature was here to kill Samathan in revenge towards you?”

  Dulcie shook her head. “No. This thing probably killed everybody at my precinct. It’s got the same feeling, and it’s big enough, and its claws match the claw marks I found in the front door—look! They touched the metal somewhere and got burned by it.”

  “Then it wasn’t revenge it was after,” Agent James said in a small voice. “It was after you, Dulcie. It must’ve been looking for you.”

  “I agree. However, it is also possible,” I continued, “that Meg intended to kidnap Samantha and hold her for ransom. Perhaps the abomination simple mistook Agent James for his girlfriend.” That theory was well within the bounds of likelihood too; abominations were not bred for their high intelligence capacity.

  “Ransom?” Dulcie asked

  “Meg knew you well, no?” I asked with a shrug.

  Dulcie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then she knew how loyal you are. You have gone on many a foolish missions to protect those you love.” A reel of prominent examples sprang to mind—working for the notorious Melchior O’Neil to protect Vander; and not telling him because it would do more harm than good; that was my personal favorite—but now seemed inappropriate to bring such examples up. An angry Dulcie couldn’t do any of us favors, speaking of myself in particular. “But I rather suspect if a ransom was in Meg’s plan at all, she wants you in exchange.”

  Dulcie pressed her lips together in a thin, flat line. “Hades,” she whispered. “Why is it always me?”

  “Vampiric obsession is a rare and potent thing,” I said. “It is not entirely beyond the realm of possibility that Meg made this thing just to find you without chancing the risk of exposing herself. This creature sought you at your office, and, when it failed to find you, it started down the list of people you know, or to whom you might run in such a crisis. Or maybe it was looking for friends of yours to kidnap? What if it was simply on a mission to kill everyone unfortunate enough to know you?” That last alternative was a poor choice of words, I realized, but if Dulcie took offense, she did not show it.

  “Great,” she muttered. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

  I was going to say something more—suggesting the creature came here to attempt to murder her friends, threatening them just enough to persuade Dulcie to do her bidding. Possibly to return to her affected “mother” without actually killing anyone she really cared about. We had to air all of the possibilities—but just then, the monster stirred.

  That was my recompense for talking overmuch.

  The monster barely managed to lift its ruined head to face Dulcie. My fists clenched, and shadows swirled around me. I was preparing to dematerialize and re-appear behind it so I could deftly rip out its heart. That was where the animating soul most certainly was hiding. So much dematerialization would surely play havoc with my head on the morrow, but it was an affliction I would have to accept.

  It occurred to me I should probably warn my compatriots before I made any sudden moves. “I will tear out its heart,” I said aloud. Without a silver instrument to cut through the enchanted skin, it would prove very difficult, and painful for both of us, but we did not have the luxury of time to search for one. “Everyone please, step back. There will be lots of blood and screaming.”

  Dulcie did not move. Her eyes went wide and her arms dropped to her sides. As we watched in abject horror, she knelt down and crept toward the abomination. It heaved and buckled beneath its own weight, hopelessly dragging its head up until it could barely see her approaching. Its head was hanging at an unnatural angle and unsupported by its broken neck, courtesy of yours truly, and the eyes were vacant. The mouth, however, which was no more than two thin, grey lips pressed into a gaunt, ashy face, was moving.

  Dulcie held up her hand to me and said, “Wait. It’s talking.”

  That surprised me because abominations, as a rule, cannot speak.

  They can certainly scream, and growl and hiss, but only on the most basic and guttural level. They can also grind their vocal chords harshly together and make very loud, unpleasant noises to express their pain, but their muscular control is somewhat limited. They prefer to fly, but only sometimes, and often swing their winged arms to injure people, but little more than that.

  This one, to everyone’s shock and amazement, was trying to speak. And almost succeeding.

  Listening very closely, I barely heard the faintest whisper, but scarcely more than that. I found that odd considering my nature and age. Vampiric abilities improve with every century we survive. I was the oldest vampire after Ezra and Meg, but Meg’s powers were augmented so they did not count. I should have been able to hear a faint whisper within ten miles, if I wanted to concentrate and listen. I could also hear the blood rushing through Samantha’s veins, the furious breathing of her grievously wounded boyfriend, and the subtle whisper of dust and stone when Dulcie moved; but for the life (and death) of me, I could not hear the monster’s voice.

  “Do use caution, sweet,” I warned, feeling increasingly ill at ease the closer she ventured to the ugly thing.

  Dulcie could though, or at least, she was trying to. Getting closer to it now until she was able to touch it, she was listening very hard. Her hand was up, poised to react by twisting and breaking its neck again should the abomination try anything, but there appeared to be little autonomy left beyond its attempts at speech. The limbs and wings twitched spastically, and its eyes rolled back in its head, while its clawed hands and feet clenched and unclenched. The brain probably signaled panic to the rest of its body through its fractured spinal cord. Its breathing was labored, rattling as it strained for oxygen, its lungs filled to bursting with its own blood.

  “What—” started Agent James, but Samantha shushed him sharply. She pointed to Dulcie and Agent James nodded.

  We waited. For a long while.

  Eventually, the abomination went still. It exhaled but did not inhale again. Dulcie stayed where she was, kneeling beside it, her expression going completely blank. The longer she stayed there, the more troubled her face looked.

  “Okay, have at it,” she said, frowning at the ground.

  I darted forward, faster than anyone but Dulcie could see. I thrust my hand down its gaping throat—faster and much easier than breaking its ribcage. Ripping through the dry tissues until I felt the cold, hard lump, I wrenched it out to examine it: a heart of stone. It was hard as granite, coarse, cold, and drenched in liquid black. It was also broken open, perhaps owing to the fight, and completely empty inside.

  “Huh,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Under normal circumstances, in order to kill the trapped soul, one must slice into the he
art with a blade of silver, or something equally pure. But it simply…” I held out the empty heart for her to see, and finished my sentence, “disappeared. Perhaps Meg’s creatures are less stable than I previously thought.” It honestly should not have surprised me; Meg’s magical capabilities could create abominations of a caliber I could never imagine, but she also lacked the advantage of sanity. She could easily miss a simple, rudimentary binding spell that would make it easier to release the soul once we got past its bones.

  Imagine Evel Kneivel jumping over seventeen buses only to ignore a red light on the street.

  But that did not matter. The creature was dead, the soul, such as it was, no longer existed, and Dulcie was still on the ground. Her jaw tightened.

  “Sweet?” I asked in a low voice. “Are you feeling well?”

  She shook her head. Stupid question, I thought.

  “What did it say?” asked Samantha.

  Dulcie blinked and looked away from the abomination toward a spot on the street, apparently seeing something that was not visible to anyone else. No one said anything for a long time. The air was as fragile as spring ice, and I had a strong sense that the slightest sound could shatter something that should not have been shattered.

  Then Dulcie swallowed and did not look up as she spoke.

  “It said…” Her voice was fresh as a summer breeze and tight as piano wire. She shook her head. “It said a lot of things to me. ‘Mother will save you. Mother will kill them. Mother will avenge us.’ Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother!” She began striking the ground with her fist hard enough to break the concrete. She barely noticed the destruction.

  “It came here to kill Sam,” she continued, her voice shaking with anger or fear, possibly both. I could not say. “It was ready to kill all of you if necessary, in order to… take me back.” She took a deep breath, the slow inhalation of a person fiercely holding back tears. “There’s another one. A… a sibling. It was looking for me at the station. They both were. It said, ‘Don’t worry. They’re all dead. She killed them.’ It couldn’t find me, and it…” She pressed her lips together and looked away.