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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 152: Brown 336
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 49
As they crossed the last bridge back into the outskirts of the city, Maurice said, “That was rough.”
“It’s not over,” Derek said.
“What?” Lei exclaimed.
“The sun is setting right now. As soon as it is dark, the surviving Carter brother is going to come after us. He’ll probably turn into a bat and fly to the city, then become humanoid. And it’s not going to be pretty. The problem is figuring out where he’s going to strike, so we can be there.
“Well, Mardi Gras is in full swing,” Pierre said. “I know it’s only Saturday, and Tuesday is the official day, but the partying has been building for a few days now, and tonight is probably the biggest night before Tuesday itself.”
“Which means?” Derek asked.
“The center of the party will be in the center of the city. Certainly there will be a lot of clumps of partiers all over, but that’s where the biggest crowd will be.”
“Then we should be there. Does anyone need anything before we get there?”
“I should refill the holy water,” Pierre said, “but the cathedral is right there, so I can get it when we get there.”
Dark fell quickly in the late winter, and by the time they reached the church it was late dusk. Pierre left his Sousaphone with the others and dashed inside. Derek waited impatiently. There were screams ahead, but there was also music, so it seemed that at this point it was still partying. It didn’t help that there were also fireworks. Everything had Derek on edge. Pierre was taking too long. Finally he emerged.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I ran into the bishop. I tried to tell him that one of the Carter brothers was coming; he tried to tell me that I shouldn’t believe local myths.”
Just then the noise ahead changed. Several of the screams had a different timbre to them, expressing panic, fear, and horror. People started running toward them down the street from the square.
“It’s time,” Derek said. He set his frying pan down in the shadow next to the steps of the church, and getting out his trumpet he left the case there as well. “We’ll march in playing Saints, and go from there.”
As soon as the band was ready, Derek struck up the first verse. They always played it slowly, and he started walking slowly toward the square as they played. They had almost reached it when they moved into the second verse, picked up the tempo, and started moving into the fray. There were some cheers in the midst of the screams, and Derek began surveying the horror.
Several policemen were dead, service revolvers in their hands. There were also bodies of multiple civilians scattered in a cleared area. There were still a lot of people in the square, some trying to push through to get to the overcrowded egresses, some standing in shocked awe. In the midst of it was the vampire, familiar to them from their earlier fight, his teeth sunken into the throat of a young black girl.
They reached the end of the song, and as Derek was trying to decide what to do next the Bishop suddenly pushed his way into the clearing. He raised his voice. “Young man!” he shouted. “Stop this nonsense at once. You are spreading fear and perpetuating lies of the most unholy sort!”
The vampire slowly turned toward the bishop, and dropped the inert body of his victim. Derek could not see the face of the bishop, but the face of the vampire made his own blood run cold. As fast as lightning the monster charged the bishop; just as quickly Derek shouted his memory verse, and the vampire shuddered and stumbled. The bishop, meanwhile, staggered backwards and tripped over his robes, landing on his back on the street. Carter’s attention was now focused on them.
Maurice was first to react, firing the shotgun directly at him. It had no effect despite obviously impacting him solidly. Being at range, Derek used his laser rifle; it, too, was useless. He realized that they had come with very few weapons that would make a difference. The derringer fired, and it was clear that the bullet hurt; Pierre was using blessed bullets, and it seemed the only thing that could make a difference.
No, it wasn’t. Earlier Maurice had cut the vampire with his ordinary old rusty knife. “Maurice,” he asked quickly, “any idea why your knife hurt Carter earlier, when our other weapons wouldn’t?”
“Don’ know f’sure,” he said, “but on the way out theya ah prayed hahd that God would bless the blade.”
Why didn’t he think of it? He drew his knives, crossed them in front of him. “Vashti, Maurice, cross your blades with mine, and pray with me.” Vashti’s good combat knife and Maurice’s old hunting knife touched his, and he prayed, “Oh Great King of Kings, we face an abomination, a dead creature who dares to cling to life. Bless these blades now, that we may use them to drive it into the depths of the grave where it belongs.”
A glow spread up his arms and through the blades of the four knives. Derek didn’t wait. He charged the approaching vampire. In an instant battle was joined. He surprised the enemy with a first blow that wounded its side, but it then took the threat seriously. It grabbed his left wrist and blocked his right hand with its opposite arm. Derek remembered, though, that however good this monster was, he was a ranked champion in the Throne World primitive weapons competition. Bouncing from the block, he swept beneath it and landed another blow.
There was now fear in the face of the vampire, and it tried to back away without releasing Derek’s hand. It was too late–Vashti and Maurice had already gotten behind him. He was unable to block their attacks, and each of them drilled significant holes in his back.
The monster released Derek’s wrist and began to change. Derek himself had changed enough times to know what was happening, and he dropped his butcher knife and grabbed the loose arm of the enemy. It was a matter of seconds, but he was soon holding the wing of a bat. It was trying to swing around and bite him, but he went to his knees and slammed it on the ground, pinning its other wing with his good knife, and then said, “Maurice, cut the head off this beast.”
The black boy gladly obliged, and there was another transformation as it became a beheaded human corpse.
A police officer came over, as did Lei. Both of them said, “What do we do?”
Addressing the police officer, he said, “I don’t know a lot about vampires, but I would suggest you burn the body and throw the head in the river. But you might want to get a second opinion on that.” Then he returned to the band. “We,” he said, “have a new song to play. Key of B flat, follow along. Then walking back to pick up his trumpet and giving the others a chance to get ready, he started to play Taps. Several police officers doffed their headwear, and as it ended Derek led his companions off the square.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
