Bohemian Morning 11

By Lydia Manx

Chapter Eleven

I had to admire Bob's self-serving nature; Bob wasn't a fool, so he quickly began scanning the shadows trying to find William around the park waiting to see how and when the crew discovered Fred's body. A natural assumption -- if not for the fact he was utterly wrong. Centuries of camouflage and a healthy dose of supernatural creativity had me perched halfway up the pine tree nearest the edge of the park nearest the canyon. The man Bob had punched out finally dragged himself from the ground and joined the men without a single comment about Fred's body. I was pretty sure that was because he didn't want to get any notice from the boss. Bob was now rocking slightly back and forth on his heels audibly grinding his back molars. He kept looking towards the shadows with hate and anger etched into the lines of his lean face. There was an aura of menace radiating off the man that promised payback should he find anyone to dump blame. I could hear his thoughts and I hadn't sunk a single fang into his neck -- years of tasting the air wasn't a gift all vampires had -- but it was actually one of my personal specialties. I'd found it to be quite useful during the purges mankind tended to have every few decades as our kind grew arrogant and got noticed by humans. If the truth were to be told we supernaturals could be damned stupid at times.

Enunciating each word carefully Bob said to the two men, "Find me that bastard now."

I quickly figured the idiot whom Bob had knocked unconscious wasn't the smartest cookie in the jar as he questioned Bob, "Which bastard, boss?"

The reply was etched in physical response -- fist to the stomach this time to change things up -- thug didn't go unconscious but bent over and choked on the liquid contents of his belly racing to leave. He stumbled away from the chilling corpse and puked out his tum with harsh coughing sounds. The whiff of sour beer combined with something fried floated on the fog up to me still perched on my branch. Not pleasant in the least.

Pointing to the body Bob snarled, "William, you fucker. See the knife embedded in Fred over there -- how do you think it got there? William must've made a move tonight. I knew Fred's been gunning for my job for years but I didn't think William had it in him. He's always been a follower. Looks like they got into it over that piece of ass Fred was all over at the bar. Never should've given them permission to play unsupervised." His tone was flat and unforgiving -- a real peach, this one.

The previously quiet man standing out of fist range of his buddies laughed and looked shocked at the sound that escaped his mouth. To his relief Bob laughed along with him, and even the dude still hurling his sour soupy mix half-heartedly chuckled, not clear why precisely they were amused. Completely unseen I grinned at their ignorance of my presence and my fangs snicked into place excited at the notion of all the possibilities for play time. My hunger wasn't ravenous but my interest in thinning this particular herd was giving me ideas rarely indulged with all the crap going on in my world. Forget spa days -- this was ambrosia and packaged with bright and shiny objects rarely so readily available to me.

Then to my dismay I heard something in the distance that caused the pit of my stomach to flip. Voices. Not male but the giggling teasing sounds of drunk women on their way home. The three men perked up and ignored the body of their dead buddy and spun as one towards the approaching clattering of heels and the clank of someone dropping a bottle that sounded like it shattered empty on a sidewalk just out of sight. More alcohol induced tittering and the fog broke enough to show shadows of two women linking arms stumbling and singing offkey into the park unaware of the predators in their way.

A third woman came clanking up behind them, slurring her words, "Hush now. I lost a soldier. We are down to only fives beers now. Wait," here she stopped and lifted up the cardboard holder that six packs of bottled beers were sold in at the store and began to count the bottles left, "Oh noes! We has drunk more. There's just free left." Yeah, she was trashed. My vision was pristine so once the fog parted conveniently I could see them clearly, while Bob and his boys were still dipping their heads blinking at the fresh trophies being presented damn near gift wrapped.

The girl in the back was nearly bent double recounting the bottles as if trying to make them multiply. Her dress was one of those naked shoulder affairs that were so popular. The dress color was bright red and her hair were multiple shades of browns and a few glittery additions from her salon in an effort to make it look prettier. Sadly, her makeup was smeared and melted causing her to look worn and fairly unattractive. She was trying too hard to be the fun friend and from the chummy way her friends curled into each other walking it was obvious that she was a third wheel and unaware of her diminished social status. The two in front were matching blondes right down to their clothing and hair styles. In a glance I could see the vixens allowed their friend to be part of any evening because she supplied money, and anything requested without asking why. Both girls in front wore sleek outfits of designer in quality in shades of silver and gold. They laughed and tittered their way closer to disaster unknowing of the danger ahead.

"Tiffany, slow down." The brunette stumbled, nearly dropping the bottles in her awkwardness.

Tiffany turned around, the closest one to the park now a step apart from her pretty friend, "Chelsea, damn, you're such a slow poke and you're totes drunk!"

The other gal giggled and said, "Chelsea, we should've used an Uber. This park is giving me the creeps."

That served as a dinner bell for the thugs and they moved slickly across the space with the fog drifting making it appear that they showed up out of thin air. All three girls squealed, and Chelsea dropped the beers as she squeaked out, "Who are you guys?"

Bob oozed over to the trio and smiled saying, "Your dates."

All the girls clutched at each other and each man picked a 'date' with a synchronized motion that shouted years of practice. Having witnessed such 'dates' from their minds I knew precisely how the steps played in the dance ahead of them.

I watched the synchronized attack of the three women from my perch up a tree hidden by branches and fog mostly. My fangs were still snicked out and I was savoring the chase ahead of me. Despite the added company, Bob and his boys weren't escaping me. I hadn't had a good hunt in years and from the moment this evening had unfolded it felt right. My energy was up because even though I'd fed off a few of the flannel clad bar bullies -- Karl in particular -- my hunger was in no way quenched. I still had a deep blood thirst pushing me. This evening was mine to control and enjoy. That the three drunk women interrupted my initial game play was just a minor distraction. They were open to my vampiric mind skills. I could taste their availability to my influencing, and it made me feel excited and sparkling. I would shine to any other supernatural creature who inadvertently stumbled upon us. Thankfully, I was the only creature in the damp and foggy night. There were advantages to dancing in a dark and foggy night. I smiled unseen from my spot overlooking the park; my night definitely had taken a positive turn from earlier in my day. My pent-up anger at the crooks who had tried to take advantage of my remodeling was nicely being redirected.

I savored that Bob had brought two other men part of his crew with him from the bar where Fred initially attacked me -- verbally and with alcohol abuse, from his liquor spilled on me -- what now seemed like days ago. Bob could've easily let his boys run wild all night -- then later chastise them for whatever infraction he made up. But no, he'd wanted a piece of me too. From the moon's location and my own internal clock, it wasn't too late but just past midnight. The girls had stumbled into my little playground on the edge of the canyon when they really should've Uber'd their drunken asses home. They already dropped the bottles of beer they'd intended on plowing through on the concrete picnic tables after the men sprung out of the night at them announcing themselves as their dates. Before the ladies had stumbled upon us, I'd already killed Fred and left him displayed for those men to see the result of fucking with the wrong 'bitch' after dark. Admittedly it really had been quite the full evening so far.

Patience really is critical when you have fangs. I waited to see how these women were going to respond to these self-appointed rapists and thugs. I'd tasted enough of these jerks to know that they weren't in anyway misunderstood angels. They deserved everything coming to them, and time permitting, more. I watched to see how the women were intending to get free without my interference. I was more than happy to help but wanted to see if they had any sense of self-preservation before I wiped their brains.

Tiffany let out a girl squeal usually heard only in pre-teens around boy bands hitting those high octaves not kind on human ears and excruciating to mine. While on the other end of the spectrum Chelsea started saying quite emphatically, "Oh. My. God."

The other matching bookend blonde did something at least smarter than I'd expected -- she reached into her purse and gave a reply. Hers was a small caliber gun that she used through the expensive leather bag. The gun went off and unseen projectiles punctured out through wisps of fog and into the dark. The bullets flew into the sides of Bob's two buddies, who promptly crumpled onto the sidewalk and unlike movies, they did not bounce up and shake off the lead. Hollywood had heroes and villains able to take bullets and horrific beatings as if they were little more than mosquito bites to be ignored and life just went on with no impact. That wasn't any more real than free money -- it just didn't happen.

"Oh my God, Stephanie! You have a gun?" Chelsea looked stunned but mildly impressed. Blonde Stephanie looked slightly ill at the men falling but I had to hand it to her she didn't crumple or cry. I felt like applauding her smart use of a weapon, but wasn't ready to reveal my presence just yet.

Bob looked more stunned than either of the girls. He also backed up a step away from the three ladies shaking his head.

"Fine, go then," he made it sound like a gift and I had to hand it to him he was a persuasive son of a bitch. And I knew for a fact his mom was unmarried when she whelped the bastard, so I didn't feel bad with the name calling. The three ladies took a look down at the men on the ground and didn't say a word, but ran before Bob changed his mind. They quickly hit the edge of the park and disappeared into the fog with far less noise than when they'd arrived a mere ten minutes or so before the shooting. Bob looked around and saw three of his crew either dead or dying and simply shook his head. He didn't even slow down, but started down the walk right after the girls. Smiling, I saw the gift I'd been given and took it to the next level. If I timed this correctly, I might not have to mind-wipe the girls but might be able to take Bob out before he harmed them anymore.