}); The Vampire Chad (Part 16) – Blinds-Eye View

The Vampire Chad (Part 16)

A thousand questions flooded my mind at that particular moment, but Chrystal was having none of it when they started flying out of my mouth.

“Shush…not now,” she scolded me, almost like a child.  “We need to get away from here now.  Before he gets back.  And never mind who.  I’ll explain it all to you when we’re safe, okay?”

Knowing the futility of arguing with her when she had her mindset. I let it go for the moment.   I grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the steps, and ended up sitting on the third or fourth one up.  I was whooped.  She had taken too much blood from me.  My strength was gone.  She had to pull me to my feet and support me the rest of the way up the steps.  This was going to be a very awkward and slow-moving escape.

Up out of the mausoleum, and across the grand expanse of the Necropolis, we slowly trudged.  Chrystal had to all but carry me the whole way.  I’d never felt this weak or drained in either my natural or preternatural lives.  Finally, the front gate of the Necropolis and the parking lot beyond were within our sights.  We’d made it!  All I wanted at this point was a nice soft bed, Chrystal’s naked body against mine, and about 50 gallons of O Positive blood.  Unfortunately, someone else had other plans for the two of us.

Only a few feet away from the gate, a figure suddenly stepped out of the shadows, blocking our path.  He was a good 6.5 feet tall, wore a long trench coat, and a fedora hat tipped down to partially hide his facial features.  I instinctively attempted to put myself between him and Crystal, which was a bit comical as she was about the only thing keeping me horizontal.  What can I say?   Protectiveness and male pride can get the adrenaline pumping when it’s necessary.  I stood my ground.

“Really, Fuil mo chridhe, trying to leave without saying goodbye again?” he asked.  “Living with American rabble has truly ruined your manners.  I know I raised you better than that.  But…forgive my own awkward sensibilities, who is this sorry bloke trying to steal you away from me?  Young sir, I truly suggest you move aside and let me speak with my beloved.”

Moving to the side of me, making sure she was still nonchalantly supporting me with one of her arms, Chrystal drew us closer to him in a threatening manner.

“You’ll just be on your way now, Marcus O’Reilly,” she spat.  “You may be older and able to push me around when I’m weakened, but there’s two of us now.  I suggest you leave and save what little face you have.”

He was obviously set back a little by her forwardness.  This was obviously a man who used to getting what he demanded, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle rebellion to his wishes.  He actually even took a step back from us momentarily.  He nervously glanced to the left and right, perhaps looking to see if anyone else had seen his momentary lapse in bravado.  No one being there, he took two steps toward us, the menacing glare returning to his face.

“That will be quite enough of that, Fuil mo chridhe,” he said.  “Know your place, or I will have to show it to you, as I have so many times before.  You will release her now, young sir, or you will both feel my sting.”

His pompous and dismissive attitude made me instantly hate the man to the core of my being.  The fact that this was also Chrystal’s captor, an ass who obviously believed she belonged to him, only made me loathe him more.  It was going to be a pleasure putting this jerk in his place.  The uptight bastard didn’t know who he was messing with.  Momentarily either forgetting or not caring that I currently had the strength of a newborn kitten, I roared like a lion protecting his lioness and lept at the son of a bitch.  Not the wisest of moves

In a flash of movement, proving that he was vampiric as well, he stepped to the side of my charge, grabbed me, and using my own inertia, threw me against the side of a very large grave monument.  As my head connected with the cement stone, I heard the strange sound of my own skull crunching.  The world went spinning and dark for a bit.  It was amazing how something could all at once hurt so keenly then slowly ebb away, regardless of the severity of the wound.  One of many vampiric advantages we take for granted until they are presented to us again.

The force of the impact probably would have shattered a mortal man’s skull into pieces, instead of just cracking it.  As it was, it still took my body a few minutes or so for my preternatural healing to recover the damage of the cranial hemorrhage he’d given me. I was very loopy at the time, seeing only flashes of light and fuzzy images; Not truly being able to make out the sights or sounds that were going on around me.  Finally, the world around me starting making sense again.  At least, as much sense as it had before my cranial calamity.

I heard a scream and a scuffle between Chrystal and O’Reilly.  Suddenly, there was another loud crunch of bone, not from my skull this time, then almost dead silence.  As I was finally coming to, I saw Chrystal approaching me.  I must have gone fuzzy again because the next thing I realized was that I was slung over Chrystal’s shoulder and only a few feet away from the parking lot.  In a masculine gesture, I many directed her to the rental car, I bravely let her throw me into the back of the vehicle, and I let her speed us away.  What a noble hero I was, right?

“I gave him a bit of a bigger taste of what he just gave you, my love,” she assured me.  I smashed in his skull with a small tombstone, but good.  He’ll never take us for granite again. (Have I mentioned how much I truly love this woman’s puns?)  She continued, “He’ll be after us soon though.  I assume you have an exit strategy here?”

I did.  As Crystal being held against her will was my #1 theory, I figure that we might need a quick but elusive getaway.  Dropping the key at the hotel and rapidly checking out, we made our way back to the Glasgow Airport.  A quick call to the rental company, telling them they could pick up the vehicle in the airport parking lot in the morning, and we took a shuttle to the Glasgow bus station.

There, we bought two tickets to Edinburgh, where we rented a room at the Edinburgh Marriot for our day’s rest, which was only a scant hour or two away.  Mind you, this entire time, Chrystal was pretty much-handling everything, including toting me around.  I was the pretty much a worthless ragdoll, navigating her through my pre-orchestrated plan.  I needed blood, and I needed it bad.  I’d pretty much given her almost everything I had to give to revive her depleted shell.  I’d be the next one slipping into hibernation if I didn’t get some soon.

Making a discreet trip to a different hotel down the street, Crystal brought me a very tastey late night snack.  His name was Daemon Phillips, a Londoner, and a con man.  Not quite my favored violent offender, but Chrystal didn’t give me a choice.  She just threw him into our room, hands tied behind his back and calmly said, “Here, eat this.  You look like hell.”  I didn’t ask at the time, and at that particular moment, I probably wouldn’t have cared if it had been Mother Theresa, an innocent choir boy, or an adorable newborn puppy.  I had to feed!

Again, I tried to hit her with a barrage of questions but got shushed again.

“This isn’t the time, my love,” she stated again.  Wait till we’re away from here and safe.  I promise I’ll tell you everything.  Just not till we’re far away from him.”

I still wasn’t happy, but I understood. This was an important topic and deserved our full concentration.  Not one in which we were watching out the window, listening and expecting him to suddenly barge in.  We were both on edge and just doing what we had to do to survive right now.  She could no more rationally tell her story right now and more than I was currently capable of responding to it in kind.  The talk would have to be shelved, for now.

The morning was almost upon us by then.  Finally feeling a lot more like myself, I put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the hotel room door, we closed the room curtains as tightly as possible, and we climbed into a slightly bigger shipping crate than the one I had arrived in.  Hopefully, this elaborate and erratic jump around Scotland would throw off O’Reilly long enough for us to safely ship the crate from the Edinburgh International Airport back to the states.

Our trip back to the United States, though technically a couple hours longer, due to different layovers would actually get us back early in the evening.  Extended flight time, yet losing 5 hours because of the time change.  Yes, it’s easy math to figure out, but still hell on the brain and body clock to truly get.

Regardless, our crate was picked up shortly after sunrise for a 9:30 a.m. flight out of Edinburgh International Airport.  Its occupants would be unconscious and unaware of the short layovers in Amsterdam and Detroit before arriving at the destination La Guardia International Airport in New York City.  The crate was transported from the terminal to a nearby hotel room at the LaGuardia Plaza Hotel registered to a Mr. and Mrs. Clavius Vane.  The couple were actually awake during this last leg of their journey and were quite relieved to escape their cramp traveling accommodations.

Our first order of business before starting out on yet another new life?  Dinner.  Daemon Phillips had gotten me up and running, but I was still running on a low tank.  And even though I had given Chrystal a good ¾ of my blood the night before, she was pretty much in the same shape.  We needed to eat soon!  In our haste, we toyed with the option of just ordering room service, but it would be a shame to lose such luxurious accommodations our first night in the Big Apple.

We opted for a midnight stroll through Central Park.  Granted, the weather that rainy April night wasn’t the nicest, but I’ve never been one to complain about soggy food.  The four gents who attempted to mug us for our scant possessions were quite accommodating.  Good till the last drop, as the Folger’s commercials use to say?  With “breakfast taken care of, we returned to our hotel for the remainder of the evening, finally having the time to slow down and talk.

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