Ethan shuddered, staring at his dead friend. Derek's body lay on its side, twisted unnaturally, like a broken doll.
His eyes were open but saw nothing now, only emptiness and blood still slowly leaking from the hole in his chest.
He… he died because of me… God… Derek… the thought came quietly, almost a whisper, yet inside it exploded like a scream.
His throat clenched in a spasm.
The vampire approached again, slowly, unhurriedly, as though this entire horror were merely a brief pause.
His footsteps were soundless, yet Ethan felt each one, every step bringing more cold, stealing more air.
«So where were we?» he said calmly, almost businesslike.
He bent down, picked up the envelope from the floor, the same white one, now stained with dark drops.
He blew the blood off it with a light, almost disdainful puff of his lips, as though flicking dust from an expensive suit.
«Money! You take it and we forget this… ugly little story.»
He crouched right in front of Ethan, knees almost touching, cold breath burning Ethan's cheek, dry, odorless, like wind from a crypt.
«Take it.»
His gaze slid sideways toward Derek's body, toward the pool of blood already beginning to thicken at the edges.
«Or…» he left the sentence unfinished, but the pause spoke louder than words.
«You'll be next.»
Fear ate at Ethan from the inside, acid burning his stomach, throat, eyes. He felt his fingers trembling, legs buckling, the overwhelming urge to simply close his eyes and disappear.
The vampire, now confident of victory, turned slightly aside as though about to pull a phone from his inside jacket pocket.
«I'll tell the bosses you agreed. This will all be over soo…»
«Fuck your money», the words burst from the far corner.
They landed heavily, like a stone.
The vampire froze.
Derek's blood continued dripping onto the tiles.
Tick… tick…
He rolled his eyes irritably, the motion almost comical.
«Jesus… another hero?»
He began to turn slowly, lazily, with a faint sigh, as though interrupted from important business.
And in that same instant a deafening BANG!!! ripped through the air.
The overhead light flickered, swayed.
The slug entered the vampire's temple, precise, no miss. His head snapped sideways as though struck by a hammer.
Blood and bone sprayed across the walls, dark, thick, mixed with white fragments.
Part of the brain clung to a locker, slowly sliding down.
The creature stood for a second like a broken statue, head lolled absurdly backward, then collapsed. The body hit the floor with a heavy, wet slap.
The red eyes extinguished instantly.
In the doorway stood the same man, cowboy hat tilted slightly to one side, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes even in the locker-room gloom.
In both hands he held a massive shotgun, barrels still warm, a thin thread of smoke rising from them like from a freshly extinguished cigarette.
«Told you», he said calmly, almost lazily, as though commenting on the weather.
«They always come back.»
Ethan tried to stand, hands slipping on the tiles smeared with Derek's blood and the vampire's dark sludge.
He gasped for air, each breath a rasp, chest aching from the impact, throat raw from the scream that never fully escaped.
«Y-you… what… what are you doing here?» he forced out, voice trembling, breaking.
Flash gave a short snort, not answering immediately. He stepped inside, stepping over Derek's body as though it were an empty pizza box.
«Saving your dumb ass», he replied matter-of-factly, without a hint of heroism or pity.
«Get up. No time to lie around.»
He stopped over the vampire's corpse. The body still twitched faintly, convulsively, as though trying to reassemble itself.
Flash reloaded the shotgun instantly. He slid new shells in, six of them, one after another, methodically, without haste.
«Can't stand their regeneration…», he muttered almost to himself.
BANG!
Second shot point-blank, into the base of the skull. The sound was deafening in the confined space, lights flickered, walls shook.
The vampire's body jerked in one final spasm, like a marionette with cut strings, and went still.
Black, thick fluid slowly leaked from the hole in the back of the head.
Flash snapped the cylinder shut with a dry click, final.
«Okay, kid», he said, turning to Ethan. His voice was even, emotionless.
«Let's go. We've got a big talk ahead.»
Ethan was still sitting on the floor, knees bent, hands bloody, gaze unfocused. He looked from Derek to the shattered vampire's head.
«W-where?!» he choked out.
«I'm working! I've got a shift!»
Flash snorted briefly, the sound almost contemptuous.
«You've got a new job now», he grumbled.
«It's called 'don't die today'.»
He stepped closer and shoved Ethan's shoulder, not hard, but enough to make him stagger to his feet.
«Move!»
Ethan stumbled into the corridor, legs tangling, the pink-bunny apron dangling from his neck like a ridiculous flag of surrender.
The floor was slippery with spilled drinks and blood already seeping from under the locker-room door.
«They'll fire me!» he shouted, gasping, voice cracking into a squeal.
«I didn't even change out of the uniform!»
Flash walked ahead, broad shoulders, long coat billowing behind him like a black cape. He didn't slow down.
«They don't need you anymore», he said calmly without turning. His voice was even, as though discussing the weather.
«They're already looking for the guy who told them to fuck off.»
They raced down the narrow corridor, cluttered with crates of empty bottles and old promotional posters.
Behind them security shouts were already rising, sharp, overlapping.
«What the hell?!»
«Call backup!»
«Blood! There's blood!»
«Where are we going?!» Ethan yelled, stumbling over a threshold into the back room.
His chest burned, lungs refusing to work properly.
«Fewer words», Flash threw over his shoulder. «And if you see another bloodsucker — run faster. Don't scream, just say there's a crow behind us.»
Ethan tripped, heel catching on the mat by the emergency exit. His knee slammed into concrete, pain shooting up his leg.
He would have face-planted, but the stranger grabbed his elbow, grip iron but not cruel.
A yank and Ethan was back on his feet.
«Son», Flash said evenly, looking straight into his eyes.
«They just ripped your friend's heart out — that's point one.»
He raised one finger.
«I killed a vampire — two.» Second finger.
«The vampire started regenerating. Three.»
He seized Ethan by the collar of his uniform, fingers closing on the fabric until it creaked.
«You need to snap out of it. They're hunting you now — not tomorrow, not in a week.»
«Right now they know your name, know where you work, know where you live. And they don't like being told to fuck off.»
Ethan broke, voice tearing out high and fractured.
«I don't have another job! I need money! My girlfriend is dead! I can't just—»
Flash cut him off not with a shout but with a sharp, gunshot-like motion, palm clamping onto Ethan's shoulder, squeezing not painfully but enough to silence him.
«You don't have a choice», he said quietly, each word landing like stone.
«Either come with me… or go back to him. And trust me, he'll be happy to rip your head off.»
Ethan stared into the dark sunglasses, seeing only his own reflection — pale, blood-smeared, wild-eyed. He saw his lips trembling. Saw Derek's blood still dripping from his apron.
Through the sound of footsteps came a wet, gurgling rasp from the locker room. At first quiet, as though someone were trying to cough through a throat full of blood.
Then louder.
Hrrrk…
CRUNCH…
The sound was nauseating, the crack of breaking bones, the squelch of flesh knitting itself back together against all laws of nature.
The vampire was regenerating. The head torn open by the shot was already beginning to close, skin crawling like something alive, bones grinding back into place.
Ethan heard it even through his own ragged breathing. Cold sweat broke across his body.
He didn't look back. Couldn't.
He simply ran faster, stumbling, clutching at the wall.
They burst through the service door into the back alley. Night air hit his face, damp, smelling of garbage, wet asphalt, and distant rain.
The alley was crammed with dumpsters, old crates, rusted pipes. Somewhere far off the club siren began to wail.
Ethan could barely breathe.
Lungs burned, throat raw from shouting and the taste of blood in his mouth.
«Where… are we running…?» he gasped, clutching his side.
Flash Royale adjusted his hat with one short, practiced motion, as though this were just an ordinary evening.
«Away from here», he answered calmly, not slowing down.
«While there's still time.»
He grabbed Ethan by the collar so suddenly the boy couldn't even protest.
Fingers clamped on the fabric like a vise.
«Hey! What are you d—» Ethan started to yell.
He was already falling into the narrow, dark side passage. Concrete met his body with a dull thud, the impact jarring his back, elbows, the back of his head. Air exploded from his lungs in one short AUGH!
«What the…», he rasped, trying to push up on his elbows.
Flash loomed over him, a huge black silhouette against the dim streetlight.
With one hand he seized Ethan's cheeks without malice, forcing his mouth open. The fingers were cold, hard, smelling of gunpowder and metal.
«Mouth… wider», he ordered. His voice was low, brooking no argument.
Ethan struggled, jerked, mumbled, but the grip was iron.
«What are you d—»
The metal flask scraped briefly. The cap twisted off with one flick of the thumb.
Thick gray liquid poured into Ethan's mouth with a wet splash. The taste was revolting, metallic, bitter, with undertones of rust and something chemical, as though someone had mixed motor oil with ash.
The liquid was cold, viscous, coating his tongue, throat, sliding down inside.
Ethan choked. Eyes filled with tears, body shook, stomach rebelled. He tried to spit it out, but Flash held his jaw firmly.
«Swallow!» he commanded.
«Or he finds us right now.»
Ethan swallowed against his will, gagging, coughing. The liquid forced its way down, a cold wave traveling through his esophagus, spreading across his chest, into his veins.
He felt it spreading, slowly but inexorably. The pain in his ribs dulled. Breathing steadied. Blood from his lip stopped flowing so fast.
He finally shoved Flash's hand away. The flask clattered to the asphalt, rang, and rolled toward the nearest storm drain.
«Wh-what… is this…?» he coughed out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Flash straightened. He slipped several more flasks into his coat pocket.