Suckers - Jack Kilborn [52]
I raised a foot and watched him shift slightly.
“Aspirin…” he groaned. “Plentiful aspirin…”
I sighed. Hitting him again might kill him. Plus, my arm was getting tired.
“Get your ass up. We’re switching to Plan B.”
The guy took his time getting to his feet, wobbling a little in the process.
“Okay, Saucy. Use the pry bar to break into the house.”
“Me?”
“You see anyone else out here?”
He blinked. Then he blinked again. “Why don’t you do the manual labor on your own felony?”
“I’ve got to hold the gun.”
“No problem. You can let me hold the gun.”
I faked another strike at his head, and when he flinched I stomped on his foot, heel first.
“Put down the goddamn sauce and grab the crowbar. You’re pissing me off.”
He obeyed.
“Make sure it’s in the jamb really good, then put some weight on it.”
The door moaned in protest, then popped open. I shined the penlight inside, but it wasn’t strong enough to breach the dark room. I held my breath and listened. No sound came from within.
While I was preoccupied, Sauce-boy took the opportunity to swing the crowbar at me. Luckily, my catlike reflexes switched on and I ducked before he took my head off. I shoved the gun in his face and he froze.
“Sorry. Crowbar slipped.”
“Drop it.”
He complied.
“Into the house. Stay quiet or the last sound you’ll hear is your brain exiting through your eye sockets. It’s sort of a bang/slurp sound. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”
“This probably isn’t new information, but you’re kind of a prick.”
“You caught me on a bad day. Now move it. Nice and slow.”
I marched him three steps into the dark house, unable to see a damn thing. There wasn’t a single light on, and all the curtains were drawn. I smelled incense, and something under it. Something funky.
My partner took another step, made an uumph! sound, and pitched forward.
I flashed on the penlight to see what he tripped over, and saw it was a naked dead guy with his throat ripped out.
While sauce-boy flailed around like a fish, I played the penlight around the floor, noticing something distinctly odd. The throat wound was so deep the neck vertebrae were exposed.
But there was surprisingly little blood.
The man smirked as I scrambled to my feet. Though I make it a point to give all of my fellow human beings the benefit of the doubt, I had pretty much decided that he was a complete asshole.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Never seen a dead body before?”
Actually, I had. Several of them. Gross ones. But he didn’t need to know that, so I shook my head.
The man aimed his penlight back at the corpse’s neck. “Looks like the work of Pires.” He smirked. “Sucks to be him.”
My “complete asshole” assessment remained unchanged. “Oh, that was clever.”
“Well, somebody had to make the first ‘sucks’ joke, and you don’t look smart enough to have thought of it yourself. The next time you see a vampire-ravaged body with a hollowed-out throat you can use it. But I want royalties.”
I extricated myself from the corpse and wiped off my hands on my pants. The body belonged to a young guy with Kurt Cobain greasy blond hair. A pentagram had been carved into his bare chest.
“Are you sure your Pires did this?”
He crouched down next to the corpse, keeping the gun on me. “Looks like it. There’s not much blood left.”
“Maybe it was oversized mosquitoes. Or maybe Red Cross representatives gone wild.”
He glanced at me, not looking happy. “Remember that I got the gun, sofa-boy. I’m the one who gets to make the snide comments.”
I sighed and took a quick peek at the still-open doorway. Maybe if I got him talking I’d have a chance to run for it.
“Is that who you were supposed to kidnap?” I asked.
“It’s not a kidnapping; it’s a rescue.”
“Is that who you’re supposed to rescue against their will?”
“You’re a smart-ass,” the man noted. “I can relate to that. What’s your name?”
“Andrew Mayhem.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Andrew Mayhem.”
“Pretty stupid name.”
“And you are…?”
“Harry McGlade.”
I quickly tried to think up a hilarious comment