Hearing a whole lot of air rush by, and my stomach drop down into my pants; smashing through a ceiling, then another, holding on to a handful of European hair and the handle of my Bowie knife, my life flashes through my mind.
I’m seven, expelled from school for stabbing a bully with a number 2 pencil.
I’m twelve, stealing my first car.
I’m fifteen, naked with Jeanine after the Homecoming dance because her parents are the cool kind, who go to Europe on Homecoming night, and leave the liquor cabinet stocked. Jeanine went on to get herpies, or some shit, and then went away to college to be a veterinarian. You go, Jeanine.
It’s been a hell of a couple days. We bump into this pedo-looking school principal, complete with Richard Simmons short shorts in fucking December – says a teacher didn’t come out of the museum with the rest of the class. So we go all investigator, because yeah, Beelzebub. We find a wrecked room, a wrecked teacher, and some inky black nasty stuff leading up to the roof in a trail. We head up there and find a big stain, where whatever it was took off.
We head back to the motel, and I grab some cheap whiskey (I think the shit was Canadian) and plastic cups, and we do that thang. Tom gets a lampshade on his head, and…
Oh fuck. I think I fucked Sophia.
Goddamn cheap whiskey, did it again.
Anyway, I wake up in the shower, cold as it’ll be in Hell the next time I fuck Sophia, and we’re off to the Loyalists to trade some inky black stuff for info. That past night a serial killer exsanguinated a bunch of people at the bar where what’s-his-name, Leon was.
We get there and Max has his sniper and his table, and I have no idea how things went south again, but Sophia can be a bitch sometimes. (Don’t I know it) But guns come out and I flip a table, and fuck me if I have to be the one to talk things down. We trade the inky black stuff for info, and we’re off after Leon, or whatever vamp decided to drain a bunch of people.
Max takes me aside, and seems to want me to hook up with them. I gotta think about that. I love the 8s, they’re my brothers, but they also aren’t going to be a ton of help fighting vampires and werewolves and Beelzebub and whatever the Hell else crawls up out of Hell to bite us in the collective ass.
We track down Leon, after terrorizing a nice Italian family, and have to ask him a little hard, but he gives up the goods. Ellie says he’s straight with us, and he gives us a lead. Back at the club, we see Eurotrash the Second hanging out with that predatory look people have during the first half of To Catch A Predator.
Things went the way they tend to go with us, with screaming and shooting and a mob and some eyeballs torn out – this guy is a lot tougher than his cousin Mikkelson, or do they all look like Nordic Eurotrash?
Anyway, I stick a knife in him, and he pops some bat wings and flies away.
I hold on, because fuck him.