Chapter 77
Boston, Massachusetts, USA, 1887
“Would you please get the hell out of the way?” Margie growled as she ran past James on her way into the fray. They were on top of a large building in downtown Boston, and after having jumped rooftops several times, they were now at a point where the Vampire had nowhere else to run, unless he decided to plummet off the side of the building, which wasn’t an impossibility.
Helms had him cornered, though, and the Vampire didn’t seem too keen on trying his luck with the concrete below. While he’d likely be just as alive at the end of the fall as he was currently, he wouldn’t exactly bounce up and go upon his merry way. Also, James knew for a fact that there were more Hunters and Guardians on the ground who would get him before he could even think of an escape after such a fall.
The Vampire seemed to know that, too. He looked young, not much past twelve, even though James was aware there was no way to know for sure how long he might’ve been around. Helms took another step forward, and the boy’s knees started to shake. “You sure weren’t scared when you broke into that apartment and slaughtered those kids,” the Hunter growled.
“Please, I was just trying to survive,” the Vampire contended.
“We have rules, you know?” Margie said, interjecting herself into the conversation. “You can’t kill innocents, especially kids.”
“I didn’t know. I don’t even know how I got this way. Please!”
James began to feel a tad bit sorry for the young man who clearly had his own life altered in an unimaginable way. His sister, however, obviously had no mercy. She launched herself at the boy, and suddenly his countenance changed as his plea for compassion shifted, and he became a monster once again before James’s very eyes.
Helms had been instructed to let Margie take the lead in this particular battle, which was clearly difficult for him, but Culpepper insisted that James needed to see his sister’s tactics, so the Hunter took a few steps around the back of the sparring pair, likely to prevent an escape should the bloodsucker get away from the tenacious blonde. It looked as if there was little chance of that happening.
Margie went straight for the Vampire’s throat. He brought his knee up in an attempt to block her, which had little effect. However, once she had her hands around his throat, he sunk his claws into her forearms, and even though he couldn’t truly damage her, it must’ve hurt as Margie shrieked and let go. It was only for a moment, however, as she regained her composure and came at him again. This time, she gathered up her flowing pant legs and jumped into the air, landing a kick in his midsection. The Vampire stumbled, falling back onto the concrete. When Margie threw herself at him again, she pinned his arms down with her knees.
It only took a few moments for her to gain a strong enough grip on his head to begin to torque it this way and that. The Vampire was helpless in her vice-like grip. Within seconds, his head was ratcheted off, and Margie took a deep breath, tossing it aside. She stood and dusted herself off as the body turned to dust around her.
“Nice work, Marge,” Helms said, clasping her hand and raising it in the air. James couldn’t tell if he actually meant it or not, since he clearly wanted to be involved in the termination himself, but Margie nodded in appreciation and then turned to face her little brother.
“See, that’s all there is to it.” She took a few steps toward him, and James could see that her arms were scratched up, though they seemed to be beginning to heal. Since Vampires couldn’t kill Guardians, eventually any wound inflicted upon them by the bloodsuckers would right itself.
“Do you want me to have a look at those?” he asked, gesturing toward her arms.
“Nah, just little scratches,” she said, rubbing absently at her arms. “Did you see what I did there, though? That kick? It’s called a roundhouse. You should learn it.”
“Right,” James nodded, wondering if Cornelia would be teaching him such a maneuver once he started his training with her. “I shall do my best to imitate you in all ways.”
Margie rolled her eyes. “You’re such a little jerkface,” she said, crossing back toward the fire escape behind him.
“What?” James asked. “I meant it.”
“You still think this is a joke, don’t you?” she asked, stopping to face him. “You still think that everything we do is… silly and unimportant.”
“No, of course I don’t,” he replied, wondering why she would say such a thing.
“You think that because you’re a doctor, you’re somehow more significant than any of the rest of us.”
“Margie, of course I don’t,” James said, but he could see in her expression that there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise. Helms clapped him on the shoulder, as if to say he understood what it was like to fight a losing battle with Margie, and James followed the pair of them to the fire escape. Margie got about halfway down and then jumped the remaining six stories, landing on her feet and casually walking the thirty or so paces over to where their uncle stood waiting.
James preferred to walk down, taking his time. Why was Margie still so angry at him? He felt like there was absolutely nothing he could do to convince her that he was on her side, that he wasn’t out to get her. She was having an animated conversation with Uncle Culpepper when he made his way over, filling him in on what had happened, and their leader seemed quite proud of her, congratulating her for such a quick kill. Margie beamed at him, happy for the praise, and the team turned to head back to headquarters, James in the back, pondering the possibility that maybe now would be a good time to find another team to join. After all, Margie had been a part of the Boston team for longer, and clearly, she wasn’t comfortable having her brother as part of the group. Maybe Uncle Culpepper should talk to Jordan about sending him elsewhere after all. Even though the thought of leaving Boston didn’t sit right in his gullet, if that’s what made his sister happy, he was all for it.
