Excerpt: Best Laid Plans

It was Friday the day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday. I had gone shopping this morning. Now I sat on my bed and Tristan was making it difficult to focus. He was lying around me propped up on one elbow; his other arm was around my back and waist pointing to the screen. We had been engaged for six months and he was still novel to me. He never had the same reaction to any situation twice. Recently, I had purchased a new computer and sadly Tristan was far more technological advanced than I was. I missed my old computer; it was one of those huge boat computers that could survive the end of the world, weighed two tons and was practically indestructible, unfortunately it had not survived a spilt glass of water. I looked down into the side his deep green eyes; the same kind of green that comes when you sit in the forest at noon and let the sun filter though the leaves. Long dark eyelashes framed his eyes; his straight black hair framed his face in the same way his eyelashes did. He turned his face towards me, and smiled, the very ends of his fangs showing.
“You are not paying attention to a thing that I say, are you?” he asked. His eyes sparkled.
“Get out,” I said lovingly. He unfolded from around me gracefully, but the tension in his shoulders said that the blood call affected him. I did not care, I had serious business to get done before we left to go to work, work that he did not need to see, it would not make him happy. I opened a word processing document that at least was the same as the old computer. I had only had problems trying to fins the program. There was a CD case lying open at my feet. Explaining the destruction of the computer and asking for help had been an embarrassing experience. I had all my files on multiple floppy disks, but with the new computer I had bought they did not work, so I had to call Drennan. When I called him and I had to explain to him that I managed to trip on hard wood floors and accidentally thrown a glass of water on the computer. The computer had promptly burst in to flames. Drennan had not taken the information too well. Drennan had built the computer from the ground up for me and it had taken him three months. It had taken so long because I needed a computer that was able to bypass the government’s firewalls to research vampires, and seeing as how technologically backwards I was the computer needed to be extremely advanced. Then I had to ask him if he would transfer my floppy files to something I could use. I heard a whoosh and a crash, and then the phone went dead. I assumed he had thrown it at a wall. I had driven out to his house, Tristan tagged along, which I did not think was a good idea, seeing as the last time Tristan and Drennan had met, Tristan had been threatening Drennan’s life. When I knocked on the door, I had to hand Tristan the computer and my box of over twenty floppy disks and pulled my gun. There was no clicking of something sneaking up on us, but I was not sure how nice Drennan was feeling. The door opened and a very unhappy looking Drennan. He glared at me, but he a Tristan exchanged a nod.
“What do you want Mercy?” he asked.
“Please Drennan?” I batted my eyes at him. His eyes narrowed. “Drennan I can make it well worth your while.” Money was the better route with Drennan, he and I spoke the same language when it came to money. I could shell out as much money as needed to gain his cooperation. No doubt he was going to make this on of my more expensive visits. He stood back and allowed us to enter. He took the box of floppies and left us standing there. Tristan followed him, returning the computer to my arms. I followed slower, down to the basement. Drennan sat a large computer in a sound proof room. I knew it was sound proof because I had been in it watching a firearms demonstration on multiple occasions. Tristan stood behind him leaning over him pointing at the screen. Drennan’s face held a look of surprise on it. I was not invited. I set the computer on Drennan’s worktable. I pulled out my gun, which I had put up when the computer had been returned to me. The sidewalls were lined with shelves housing different types of ammunition and I walked up to it and search for something to waste on the wall. There were plain brass bullets, sunshine bullets, and something I had never seen before. They looked like buckshot but I had a suspicion that they were not buckshot. I popped my clip out, stuck it in my pocket and pulled out a clip of the pseudo buckshot, and set jammed it in to the Beretta. I positioned myself in front of the wall and fired. The gun kicked back more than it had ever before. I landed on my but on the floor at the foot of the stairs, which was a good five feet from where I started. I grinned and fired again from the floor. The kick back was less severe form the floor. When the clip was empty I stood up and examined the wall. The wall was no worse for wear; there were no holes, or any markings. I frowned at the wall. I got another clip from the shelf and emptied it. Still there was nothing on the wall. Maybe what I needed was a live target. I pulled the mannequins from their homes near the left wall and I got another clip. I knelt down for a stronger position and fired once. There was a fine mist in the shape of a cross in front of the mannequin. The cross washed over the mannequin and disappeared. I was thoroughly disappointed. I holstered the gun and sat down at the worktable. I watched the males in the other room for about thirty seconds before I became bored. I spun in the chair waiting on them. I jumped up and walked over the mannequin again to inspect it. There was thin layer of raised plastic on the mannequin, when I brushed the area; it disintegrated leaving a gaping hole in the mannequin. I went to the wall and when I touched the wall it did the same thing. I wondered if human or undead skin would respond the way. There was a pile of fine dust at my feet when Drennan and Tristan exited the room. “I am so glad that you two had fun.” I said contemptuously. They looked at each other and stepped away. Tristan wandered towards me with a silly grin on his face. Drennan held up a CD case with a smile as well. “Will I be able to use that?” I asked. I was not too happy about their little guy pow-wow.
“Yeah of course, have I ever given you anything that you could not use?” I did not respond.
“You are not happy.” Tristan always had a way with words.
“What gave you that idea?” I held my hand out for the disk. Drennan walked over to me and placed it in my hand. “What is your price?” I asked, my voice cold.
“The usual.” I picked up my computer and walked up the stairs. “Mercy what happened to my wall?” The call came from below. I ignored it. I heard footsteps follow me up the stairs. I continued through the house. I was angry and I did not know why, but since shooting Drennan or Tristan was out of he option then I needed to leave and that is what I did. I let the car drive itself back to the flat. An hour later Tristan walked through the door of my . . . our flat. I was not angry anymore, basically because I had needed help with the computer.
But now I was just fine. I pushed the CD into the slot where it popped up on the screen. I opened it and copied everything on to the hard drive like Tristan had said to do. The records I kept were by first name, then title, then year of turning, and finally last name. Vampires, I had found, did their best to keep their last names unknown – something about power in knowing the full name of the undead. I knew just about every last name of every New Blood, the Old Bloods thwarted me at every turn. They were near impossible to persuade into sharing such valuable information. The few I had, had been taken from dying vampires then I had I took the names from the humans that knew them. I pulled up on Jake and Lucifer’s files. I filled in my name in the slot that was reserved for their Killer/hunter. Then I pulled up on the friend of Tristan’s who I had shot in a “fit of rage” – according to Tristan – her name was Marie, Duchess, one-hundred seventeen, Kovack. Tristan had provided the information to me. I felt rather guilty as I typed my name into the “killed by” slot on her sheet. But then again she had started something, and I felt obliged to finish it. I felt something brush against the back of my neck. I looked up. Tristan stood I the doorway. I saved and closed the lid of the computer partially.