The Power of Ten Book Four: Dynamo

“Good day to drive by the harbor,” Mr. Hill noted philosophically, and put the van into gear. “Those Cards of yours are pretty sweet. Lit up the whole place from damn near a mile away.”

“Sunburst Runes. They can blind you if you are surprised, but really they are only useful against things vulnerable to sunlight. You make that call to the Aerie?”

He nodded once, a grim smile ghosting across his hard face. “Subject to truth-testing, but yeah, we’ll be paid a bounty on every vampire we kill. There’s a bonus if we can ID who they used to be for closure, but their Caster can work it out from the clothing or stuff if we don’t make it easy for them.”

I took out a sheet of paper and Painted a picture of the sneak-attacking vampire on it. We of course knew who Chavez was, and as we drove down towards the water at an oblique angle to my scrylock, I texted Chopsaw to let him know we got his man, and he was no longer a vampire.

I didn’t tell him we were on the way to the master vampire, as fewer risks are good things.

------

I kept a Holo-map of the area up, with my initial line extending across it. As our angle grew more oblique, more readings pivoted about a central point. Mr. Hill noted it and finally decided that was good enough, turning up towards the Hills.

In addition to having the largest population of Caucasians in the Tribal Nations, LA was also the television and film capital of the world. New York tried to compete, but LA led the whole world in the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry. No small part of that was because it didn’t have the cultural and historical biases that Murica did. People from all across the world came to LA to become stars of film, stage, and screen, and more musical and film movements had started here than anywhere else.

Naturally, all that glitter and glamour and pomp was enticingly attractive to certain segments of the population. Many people were surprised that the Tribal Nations even allowed such societies to exist, as the stratification between rich and poor here was greater than anywhere else in the country.

Nevertheless, it did, and so MurMansions, as they were called, were all over the place, tributes to excess wealth, vanity, passing fancies of style, and just announcements that the owner had arrived.

On the other hand, the people who maintained those places were quite well paid, and generally had homes or apartments on the grounds or adjacent to them, instead of having to drive in from outside the area. Sure, the discrete and rising apartment complexes for the hired help detracted from the sprawling estates, but the Tribes had simply made the ruling, and those who protested too much had often found their palatial estates falling into a sinkhole in the ground.

The Tribes controlled urban sprawl very, very well, and if cities wanted to gather working populations, then you had to build up, not out. If the Tribes said an area was to remain wild, then that was that, and whining/moaning/complaining/protesting/wheedling about it got you exactly nowhere.

Complaints about the lack of transparency at the highest levels of tribal government could also get you summarily deported, generally to Argentina, with a note to not come back. While money talked, as it often did, the sheer ability of the Tribes to resist monetary temptations of various sorts at all levels of their society still shocked a lot of people.

LA was still one of the glitziest places to live in the whole world. Where else would an eternally young and fine-looking vampire want to spend their time?

Well, let’s add ‘foolish’ to that. Vampires were something brought here by Muricans as infiltrators and spies, and the Tribes loathed them. I think LA was partially set up as a honey trap to draw them in, given how much money and business moved through the place, and the enthralling glitzy and pretty people to prey upon and subvert.

But the vamps just couldn’t resist reaching for that glamour, even if they kept themselves away from the government. It had been proven to them time and again that even touching the government here was a death sentence.

There was a buzzing from Mr. Hill’s pocket as his personal phone rang. He took it out and handed it to me without taking his eyes from the road.

“It’s Hawkeye,” I reported, blinking. “He’s wondering if you want some back-up for this.”

“Huh,” Mr. Hill said thoughtfully. “Don’t got a lot of experience with vamps. What do you think?”

“I think if you wear that adamantine collar, you’re in no danger, but we don’t know how many ghouls they are hiding.” I paused significantly. “Also, how good is he about turning a blind eye if we loot the place?”

“Being able to profit off vamps encourages people t’ go after them. You can bet Chopsaw collected his bounty and looted that place clean, and the Tribes didn’t care, as long as it was fairly discreet and he cleaned everything up nicely. Hawkeye won’t touch a thing, because he’s on government payroll, but he knows I got expenses, and it’ll mean I owe him a favor. There’s shit hero-types can’t be seen doing, but what still has to get done.”

Not bad shit, just shit. Merc work. I could understand that.

“We’re going after the master vampire, too. Any minion vamps are gonna immediately try to build up a following of their own. Might want to have the Aerie on standby for vampire activity. Intelligence on who any living minions are is probably a premium.”

“We need to grab his phone,” Mr. Hill grunted.

“We need to grab his phone,” I agreed.

------

The MurMansion was a semi-tasteful faux Greek/French pastiche design that probably made its architect a lot of money, set on about five acres of ground, which was a definite sign of wealth here in this neighborhood. Pointedly, there was a guard on duty at the gate even at night, which was a subtle indicator of wealth, paranoia, or the presence of things that stayed awake all night.

It had ten-foot-high brick walls, a single gate with a circular drive, and there were at least three floors with a basement level, and probably sub-basements, too, knowing what lived there.

Getting a view of the grounds and external layout wasn’t too hard, and we couldn’t trust anything inside it, naturally enough.

Hawkeye came powering down from a low flight path, ensuring he wasn’t seen by any spotters as he met up with us a mile away from the place.

“Still using the old van, Sarge? How many coats of paint on this thing?” he asked, patting the van like an old friend.

“Thirteen and counting, Corporal,” Mr. Hill replied affably. “You got anything for us?”

“Old floorplans.” He hit a button on his wrist, and up popped a hologram dissection of the MurMansion. “The place is registered to a Vincento Allamagehro, a producer and film director from Italy.”

“That’s slang for a porn film-maker,” Mr. Hill supplied to me helpfully. “If there’s vamps involved, probably snuff films, too.”

“Then he probably uses the house for set pieces, and can swap the walls around as he wants. Standard tactic of vamps and undead in general is to have access to the sewage tunnels for emergencies, too,” I contributed.

“One sec!” Hawkeye danced through a couple menus, and a view of the local sewer system popped up. “Called it good. There’s an access tunnel right on the corner of the property there.”

“Undead don’t need to breathe. They can use the system to travel around without being seen. Favored tactic of ghouls. Vamps can do it in mist or rat form, but since they can fly, generally don’t bother.” I eyed Hawkeye. “We might have to do a lot of ghoul slaughter. You bring a lot of ammo?”

“Four clips?” he asked carefully.

I opened up the back of the van, pulled out the back-up .45 sidearm of poor Chavez and the clips to go with it, and handed them to him. “Silver-tipped.”

“Yeah. Got me a hawthorn staker, too.” He drew the long wooden spike from over his shoulder.

“You know you have to leave it in the wound to keep the greater vampire dead, right?” I asked him archly.

“It’s been soaked in holy water, so it’s perfectly useful on the lesser vampires without leaving it in them,” he replied defensively, eyeing me like I was some strange creature he had stumbled across.

“You’d be better off with a mithral knife in the future for general combat,” I corrected him mildly. “Leave the stakes for staking, not fighting.”

Mr. Hill laughed gently under his breath. “She knows how to kill vamps, kid,” he warned Hawkeye softly. “She’s wiped at least ten of them now. I only seen what’s left.”

He kind of scrunched his golden eyes up at me, then sighed. “Goddamn crazy world. So, how we playing this?”

“I’d like to go in and see if there’s any living there who haven’t been turned to Drinkers. I’ll have to go inside and shut down the divination Wards ringing the place to do it quickly. Once I ascertain that, this can be pretty quick if there isn’t.” I made a hand-bow to Mr. Hill.

“I’ll crush that place flatter than a pancake,” he promised, without batting an eye.

“You’re best on overwatch, Hawkeye, while Mr. Hill is the distraction. He goes plowing through the place, drags the fighting outside, and you start popping them down as fast as you can. Any vamps handy will Summon bats to swarm you and shut you down, so you best be covered up good.” I eyed his exposed biceps, lower face, and throat, and raised an eyebrow.

He muttered something under his breath, and dug into the pack he’d brought with himself.

“Best way to disperse the bats is to kill the vampire in charge of them, or fry them with an area-effect.” Hawkeye jumped as a pulse of high amperage crackled around me for an eyeblink, extending from a two of clubs Card in my hand.

“Playing cards?” he asked skeptically.

“Cheapest ammo there is,” I sniffed at him, adjusting my string tie automatically. The blouse was black right now, however. Mr. Hill just grinned. I flicked up two Hearts, the King and Jack, and handed one to each of them. “If it burns white, all-clear to kill everything. If it’s red, I’ve found civilians and am pulling them out.”

“Give me a minute once I go over the walls before you go in, Mr. Hill, and then pull the fight outside. Hawkeye, I think you know what to do, but the bats will spot you with sonar even at night, which means the vamps will. On your own discretion.”

He picked up the second pistol and stowed the extra clips. “Use up the ammo fast, in other words.” He grinned despite himself. “Man, this is the kind of thing I practice a LOT of speed shooting for, you know?”

He wasn’t going guns akimbo because it would interfere with his reloads, and if you could shoot fast enough, it shouldn’t matter.

I doubted he could not shoot fast enough.

“There’s a long rifle in there if you think it’ll come in useful.” He glanced at the back of the truck in some surprise. “I doubt it, but I’m not the sniper.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I just nodded to him and took off down the road, legs pumping with more than human energy and speed, not quite touching the ground as I did so.

Yeah, I could have gone bounding over roofs and fences and streetlights, even down the power lines. However, height makes you visible, so I stayed low.