Fortier: Blood and Moon

Power

I looked at the weakling, and all I could feel was rage. You would think that someone like me would've had his share of rage by now, but this was different. “You can't say she didn't warn you, can you?” I said, before I grabbed his skull with my right hand and pushed so hard that his eyes popped from their sockets and squashed his puny face as if it was butter. Blood splattered everywhere.

I could hear everyone scream as they were getting the hell out of that place. The Fortier is a good nickname, but if you happened to run a business and a ruthless killer entered, you would quickly lose customers.

They all ran for their lives, except for that little gang. The one who held Petra let her go on his own accord. He was simply walking backward. The rest cried as loud as their lunges allowed them to. Whoever it was I just squashed was important to them. But I honestly couldn't care less. I rolled my eyes towards Petra, and she buried her face in my chest. She was relieved for some reason -- and I won’t lie -- I felt good. For once, I have done something good.

“I knew it was you,” Petra whispered at me. I'm not sure if she saw me before she spoke, or if she recognized my heartbeats, but there was something more important to attend to now.

The gang of vampires surrounded us from all directions; can they not heed warnings? Did they not hear the stories of how I butchered entire villages, towns? Don't you think it odd that not a lot of Vampires know how I even look like?

“You will pay for what you did! You f*****g bastard!” one of them cried before they stepped forth. Is this the confidence of youth? I didn't care, my eyes were fixed on Petra and for some reason, and I couldn't look away.

“None of you will live,” I said to them. I sensed that those words sent chills down their spines. Some of them stopped moving completely, while one of them jumped. Well, to someone like me, they pathetic attempts will only result in failure. Brave they were, but fast? No.

It was like time slowed down; I could see the vampire slowly hovering towards me. I grabbed Petra with one hand, and balled the other into a fist and drove it right to the vampire's forehead. It was as if their head exploded on impact, sending brain matter everywhere. My hand was seriously filled with blood and brain matter now.

I had to flick a chunk of their brain away from my hand. Don't get me started on the smell that followed. Awful, I couldn't wait to just get the hell out of that place. So I gently pushed Petra away from me and proceeded to m******e them all.

Fools, they thought they could fight back but for every punch they threw, I countered with ten of my own. One hit, was all I needed to end each of them, and let's just say that the cries that came out of that bar that night would haunt all who heard them.

I grabbed Petra and went outside, where the barkeeper came to me holding a gun.

“Fo . . . Fortier . . . you ruined my business . . .” he mumbled, I could see his arms shake, with that gun pointed directly at me. I didn't need to listen to his heartbeats to know that he would sooner s**t his pants than pull that trigger.

“Bet your life on it,” I said to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Bet your life on that bullet that comes out of that gun,” I replied. I sighed as I gazed right into his eyes. “Will the bullet catch up to me before I rip your throat out? That’s the bet you have to make right now.”

He lowered the gun and burst into tears as he got on his knees. “I am sorry.” He repeated time and time again. I think the sheer pressure of his life on the line really got to him, pitiful behavior if I dare say so myself. Why would you point a gun and not pull the trigger after all?

I heard Petra sigh, and took another look at my hand that was still covered with the remains of the brave gang, but I could sense Petra's strength slowly fading.

“Come on, we have to go now,” I said to Petra. I didn't want anything bad to happen to the barkeeper if only for the reason that his life probably took a bad turn. He didn't commit any sins, it was just an unlucky event that this happened while I was in town.

“Where are we going? Back to my father's?” Petra said.

“With you looking like this? Are you trying to get yourself killed, Petra?” I joked, and she smiled. Did I actually just say something nice on purpose just to whisk a smile away from her? Well, I don't want to think about it, but I was right about one thing: Petra cannot go home looking like this, else the entire place would be burned down by the Bertrams.

“You could use a change of clothes,” I said to her, before I took off.