Forever After

Chapter 11

The next day was equally disheartening. Shifty was getting bored and would have gone off to greener pastures had it not been for Blunt. I saw the restlessness twitching through his muscles and evident in his eyes. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could go off, do whatever, but I was selfish. Or was wanting them to help selfless? I wasn't sure but knew having two extra sets of hands and eyes was important.

We'd tried everywhere we could think of but it wasn't easy. Though we were certainly strong, fast, and had exceptional sensory perception, we didn't have any of the other handy traits commonly, or even uncommonly, applied to vampires. We couldn't read people's minds or control them. We couldn't fly or levitate. We couldn't shift into other animals, smoke or mist. We couldn't teleport or turn invisible. This, of course, put a major damper on our investigations. For example, we couldn't just put the whammy on anyone we thought MIGHT have information on Justine to get them to give it up and, although we could certainly scare the information out of them, that type of exposure was dangerous and frowned upon.

So instead, we found ourselves trying to wheedle information out of less than cooperative pawn shop owners and black market arms dealers. It was easier with the gun runners because they wouldn't dare go to the cops but scaring them into supplication also had the unfortunate side effect of drawing the attention of well-organized and dangerous fellows. Men with big guns and lots of money to hunt us down and kill us if they felt threatened.

We did manage to scare one unfortunate man who was dealing stolen guns out the trunk of his car. We met him in a little used alley. The neighboring buildings seemed to block out almost all light, natural or otherwise. There were no lamps or overhead lighting, and it appeared the sole light source, a halogen bulb at the end of the alley, had been taken out by gunfire. I didn't hazard to guess whether the destruction had been accidental or on purpose.

 The three of us waited in the cramped convertible. Neither Shifty nor Blunt owned a car. Blunt was up front with his knees nearly to his chest despite the seat being all the way back. Shifty lounged out across the back seat, his legs in the air as we waited. 

A black sedan with a grey front quarter panel and spinners for rims pulled up beside us. I never understood putting more money into the rims than the car was worth. On an Escalade or something similar, I could understand, but a ten year old Civic with an unmatched paint job? I just couldn't see it.

A scrawny man slipped out of the car. His body movements reminded me of a weasel or ferret, his head twitching about as if expecting to get hit. His black, beady eyes danced, never staying in one place, as he moved to the trunk. He wore a baggie black t-shirt that, fortunately, hid his boxers in the gloom. I got out first, smiling a forced smile as I made my way behind him to the trunk. When Blunt unfolded himself from the front seat, the eyes bugged out of the dealer's head. 

 It took no more than five steps for Blunt to reach my side and stare at the smaller man. I leaned against the still closed trunk of the black and grey car, arms crossed and grinning like a cat that'd cornered its prey. The little weasel of a man let out an "eep" and nearly jumped, but caught himself at the last second. Moments later, Shifty joined us, finishing our menacing triumvirate.

Pleased with the way the man's face seemed to lose several shades of color as I watched, I asked, "So, what's your name, kid?"

He looked to me as if he were drowning, and I was his only lifeline. Although I could hardly be considered an ally in the situation, I guessed he considered me the lesser of three evils. 

"Jim," he squeaked almost under his breath.

"Well, Jim, we have a favor to ask of you. We have no intention of harming you."