Rolf waited for the second warning whistle. He was full tactical by then. Strapped and geared up. Pistol, knife, bandolier, vest and black hat. He had it all.

“Sorry, Homie, but you need ta stay wit’ her,” he said, cinching Fuzzy’s straps tightly around Hanna. She smiled at him as she stroked Monkey’s furry straps.

“I will care for this. Keep it safe,” she said in Gnimen.

“And keep it close. He has all of our food, medical, water and ammo,” Rolf replied, patting her, and then Monkey, on the head. He looked at the pocket where the GPS lay secure. It beeped. Tick-tock.

Rolf popped a tunnel that opened just below the roofline of the next car back. The vertical maintenance ladder rungs on the end of the boxcar were visible.

“Follow me,” Rolf said as he jumped into the tunnel, crab-walking to the end. He turned to see Hanna standing upright behind him. Leaping out, he grabbed the rung just below the roofline, Hanna coming out beside him.

Rolf climbed up and peeked over the edge to the end of the train. On the final boxcar he saw three larger male Gremlins in amongst four females. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he realized one of the females was a gnome. The largest male, with grey matted dreads, bent down as he slammed the hatchway shut. He took a metal wire and looped it through the latch. One of the females pointed Rolf’s direction and gestured excitedly. He thought he was blown, but realized she was pointing ahead of the train. The gremlins gathered toward the back of the last car and huddled. Rolf looked at Hanna and nodded upward. He climbed the last rung and crawled out on the roof.

Laying prone, he put his hands out and popped a tunnel, looking through to the end. He’d placed it within a step of the Gremlins. Since the slimy creatures had travelled by tunnel before, they’d know what the popping sound was. Rolf leapt into the tunnel, Hanna followed. In relative null time, he spoke over his shoulder, going over the plan again one more time. They reached the end of the tunnel and Rolf drew his knife, looking behind him. His left hand reached backward toward Hanna. She handed him a claw hammer from the tool bin.

Rolf had decided this fight was going to be a hand to hand. He wasn’t sure if the occupant of the boxcar could hear outside it, but if he attacked then, with the Warthog blazing, he was giving up the surprise that he had firepower and he might need that later.

“And if I getz in trouble, I can always bust it out and ice some of these pricks,” he said, then spoke in Gnimen. “Get the girl to the other end as fast as you can. Let me do my thing.”

Hanna smiled and nodded. Dr. Forester had told him to stay out of trouble. Committing a crime would revoke his status. But killing a gremlin or two was not a crime. As far as the government was concerned, it was a service. Rolf turned and sprang out of the tunnel.

He exited into real time, landing and then leaping toward his first opponent, the gremlin male that was facing him. He immediately spun the hammer, claw outward, and swung it down, biting the flesh at the top of its head and hooking into the creature’s dreads. He pulled its head forward and jammed his knife upward, through the soft tissue under its jaw and into its brain.

He felt the flesh give, resistance before cracking and then completion of the motion. The gremlin fell limp. Rolf lifted up with his knee, pulling his knife free as he kicked the semi-erect dead gremlin in the chest, sending it over the back of the train.

“Ayeeee!” A high-pitched wail sounded from behind him as claws reached over him and dug into his right arm. Something also hit his left side. Rolf lost his grip on the hammer and it hit the deck with a clatter. The fight was on.

Rolf went with the sideways impact, driving his left elbow down on whatever had hit him low. It was one of the male gremlins.

“Umph,” it grunted. Rolf followed up his motion, flattening his wrist so his forearm ran along the gremlins back and his hand filled with its nasty dreads. Rolf pulled its head back and slammed it forward. It impacted with his rising knee. Repeatedly and consistently.

The pain signals from his right arm went up a notch. The gremlin frau was digging in and had a death grip on his knife arm. And she was opening her mouth. The sharpened teeth would probably be painful and the follow-on infections would require a trip to a pharmacy for antibiotics. That would have been if she had been able to complete the bite. He pulled his arm inward, just out of chomping range and dragging her along. She was lined up in front and lunged forward to complete her bite. Rolf threw his head forward at the same time. He crew-cut collided with her strange, and abundant, cranial tattoos.

“Crack!” The frau gremlin released her grip and dropped. Her mouth hung open and her eyes rolled up in opposite directions. She didn’t move or breath. Rolf was learning that malnourished gremlin females had weak bones and gnomes have hard heads. Her skull had cracked like an egg.

“G-Raff don’t hit no lady, but you, purple bitch, weren’t no lady,” Rolf said, twirling the knife in his now free hand and gripping the handle for a downward plunge into the male gremlin he held with his left hand.

“Thwick!” sounded as the smaller male gremlin’s head met his knee for the last time, Rolf drove the blade deep into the back of its skull. The gremlin convulsed for a second, then became flaccid. Rolf dropped him and stepped over him, spinning to his left, looking for his remaining adversaries.

Rolf swung his head toward the front of the train, as he searched for his third target, the remaining big male. The last females might be less of a problem if he eliminated the males.

Rolf saw the last Zuhälter-Meister standing five feet away. His stood about even with Rolf’s chin, which made him big for a gremlin. He was also wearing more attire than the others, the most obvious a patchwork fur coat. His matted dreads were run through with black and grey hair, his muscled violet shaded arms bore tattoos and scars. Some old, some new. He was a fighter. Something about the fur coat struck Rolf. The pelts were elliptical, like stretched diamonds, sewn into a wearable pattern. The lower one’s edges hung loosely, creating a zigzag fringe. Each piece was covered in varying lengths of fur and ran the gamut of colors. Black, brown, gold, coppery and gray or white.

“Ah, Gnomon, you like my coat?” It asked in Rolf’s native tongue, as it drew a blade. “You may recognize the animals I’ve hunted and skinned to make it.”

Rolf paused and his eyebrows furrowed. The Gremlin was making a point and Rolf had missed it. Gnomes in America were city dwellers. The furs looked too bristly for city animals like dogs or cats.

The air was charged with energy and a pair of hands grabbed his un-bloodied left arm, ten sharp claws digging in. Surprised, Rolf pulled back and lifted his arm. He ignored the pain as he brought his right hand around, the blade of his M9 driving toward his attacker. Another frau gremlin.

A flash of recognition burned through his instinctive reflexes. He twisted the point away as he poked the frau’s skin. It was the other gnome girl. She was doing the same thing Hanna had done when she’d first seen him, fulfilling her role as part of a harem, acting like a good gremlin frau. But he didn’t have time to wrestle with this one.

He’d carried through with his blow, now gripping the knife handle sideways. His fist hit her in the chest. He felt bad about hurting her, but he needed her out of the way.

“Oooph,” she exhaled as her grip loosened, her eyes grew wide, and she started to fall away.

“Pop!”

Hanna appeared behind her, stopping her fall, snaking her wrists under the girls’ limp arms. Hanna turned them both and her hands came forward. Fuzzy Monkey looked good as Hanna popped out of existence a split second later, taking the girl with her. Rolf saw her reappear toward the front of the car, out of the corner of his eye

“Lookout!” Hanna screamed in Gnimen.

Rolf brought up his knife hand, slashing over his shoulder and rolled to his right, away from where he’d last seen the big guy. He felt his opponent’s knife edge ride along the back of his body armor. The relief of not being split open went away as a sharp blow impacted to the back of his left knee. Rolf felt a sharp pain inside his leg. It hurt, but nothing had given way. He did go down awkwardly.

“Gnomon. This is none of your business. Leave now, I’ll let you live,” the biggest Gremlin male said in perfect Gnimen. “Of course, the whores stay with me. My property.”

Rolf rolled over and looked up at the sun. His right arm hurt and was bleeding from multiple cuts. Those fingers were numb, the claws might have done some nerve damage. He didn’t have a good grip on the M9 anymore. His left arm was in better shape, but bloody as well. His leg throbbed, but he didn’t think anything was broken. He smirked and tapped a beat on his chest.

“Hangin’ on the street,

dey gonna roll thru my hood,

Puttin’ down punks,

A Thugs life jus’ hurtz good”

“Word, NaSnitch-Ez,” Rolf said aloud, the song lyrics playing in his head. “Word.”

The ex-thug gnome knew he had a few minutes before everyone that was looking for him would know where he was. He looked at the male gremlin, a smile on its face as it relished having the upper hand. Rolf saw the remaining gremlin frau, who had been hanging onto the big male, look toward Hanna. She let go of him and started walking toward the girls.

“Well, gnomon? You can simply pop away. Go lick your wounds and forget we ever met. Our paths diverge. We go to the Orleans, you go someplace else. Anyplace else.”

Rolf could do that. Forget the Ley line. Maybe search out that troll caravan. Heal up and move on. He glanced at Hanna. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t just leave. He should probably look out for his own skin, but at that moment, he just didn’t care.

“No. I’m taking them home. All of the gnomon,” Rolf said.

The gremlin laughed, throwing back its head and barking a hoarse cackle. “Home? Home where? Home to who? I see you didn’t get it. Look again. See my trophies.”

It reached for the lower hem of the coat and pulled the corner up and in, making the pelt pattern show horizontally from Rolf’s perspective.

A pit formed in Rolf’s stomach. A burning. It hit him. The horror of what he was looking at washed over him. They weren’t pelts at all.

“Ahh, there it is,” the gremlin said, glee in its tone. “Yes, Gnomon, these are my trophies, skinned off the faces of the squirming wretches of Gnomon that were in my way or defied me. Their beards, man, woman and child.”

“You…you…,” Rolf sputtered before breaking into English. “Motherfucking piece of shit. I’m gonna end yo’ ass.”

“She has nobody to go home to, my beardless friend” the Zuhälter-Meister continued, using its blade to point at one of the morbid patches of hair within the pattern. “This was her Father’s.”

Rolf sat up. “You gonna die screamin’ like a bitch.”

“And this was her Mothers. She doesn’t even know. She thinks they abandoned her to me. Sold her. My property. That’s all she knows. It’s all she will ever know. She’s no concern of yours and neither am I. Now leave.”

Rolf got to his knees, his hands shaking. He felt the knife handle, warm and fitted to his grip. The M9 with the custom inlaid fullers, that had saved his life countless times, had a new mission. Today, it would save someone else’s or fall from his dead hand. No middle ground. No compromise.

“I’m so fuckin’ tired of nasty mofo’s ordering me to do shit,” Rolf said as he got to his feet. He steadied himself. “Assumin’ dey know what G-Raff should do. Especially little assholes that think dey’ gotz game. Ya know what, ya ugly-ass punk?

The gremlins stared back. Apparently, his English wasn’t up to snuff.

Rolf continued in Gnimen, “I got nothing to lose and your ass is mine.”

The gremlin brought it’s blade up and charged, expecting to take advantage of Rolf’s unsteady stance. It was quick. The gremlin extended itself, stabbing forward at Rolf’s center mass. It would have been an effective move against the average gnome.

But the average gnome hadn’t spent the last two years being trained and fighting a cornucopia of vicious monsters. A 14” tall oily purple tattooed German-speaking butt-munching pimp-ass gremlin had nothing on what he had fought before. Its clumsy attack didn’t register as a popcorn fart compared to what had happened in Denver. Rolf smiled.

He brought up his knife, meeting the thrust, pushing it up as he absorbed the blow. The gremlin’s long knife slid along the M9’s blade, stopping when it met the M9 guard. Both blades held and went high. Rolf shifted his center of mass and grabbed the gremlin’s elevated arm with his free hand, stepping inside to get some leverage.

A searing pain ran across his lower stomach, were his overhead extension had raised his lite armor vest, exposing his lower abdomen for the gremlin to use its free hand and deliver a slash with its claws. Rolf pushed back the pain and finished his move, going inside, pivoting around and keeping leverage on the gremlins arm.

Rolf felt a tug on his hip. The Zuhälter-Meisterhads grabbing the handle of his .45 Warthog and pulling on it.

“Dat’s a street level punk fail, shit-meister. Tac holster. Only comes out one way,” Rolf said looking under his arm.

He pulled the scarred and purple arm down on his shoulder as the Gremlin released his grip on the gun and tried to rise over him, clawing at his vest from behind. Rolf applied more downward pressure while twisting the wrist. When his feet were in position, Rolf thrust his rear back, rolled his shoulder, and snapped his arms down, Heaving the gremlin over and in front of him. Normally, the finish would have been to toss the opponent a good distance, but that wasn’t Rolf’s plan. He held onto the arm with one hand and grabbed the creatures beard coat with the other. As the gremlin started to drop, Rolf put his own weight, and strength, behind the move and drove the gremlin into the boxcar roof. The metal did not give way, its bones did.

Rolf’s didn’t let his repulsion at touching the beards, that had once belonged to gnomes, loosen his grip or slow his efforts. Rolf twisted the gremlins blade arm’s wrist until he heard a pop. It screamed and dropped its knife.

“Told you that you’d die screamin’, punk,” Rolf said as he flipped the M9 around in his hand and went to drive it home.

Another scream broke the sound of rushing air and clacking wheels.

Hanna.

Rolf glanced over to see Hanna and the gremlin frau grappling.

“Sorry, Fuck-Meister, but I gotz to end dis’ shit fo’ realz,” Rolf said, driving the knife through the coat and into the gremlins chest, finishing with a twist of the blade. The gremlin tensed, tried to claw at him, drew a stuttering breath and relaxed, letting out a gurgling sigh.

Another scream. It was the other gnome girl. Rolf stood back up and saw the gremlin frau had Hanna on her back, its hands around her neck.

Pop.

Rolf wasn’t sure if the frau felt the energy right before she died, but he did know that he had enough forward momentum going that he took off her head with the M9 as he left the tunnel.

Hanna lay sputtering under the headless attacker, its hands frozen around her neck. She pushed it away and spit the ichor out a number of times.

Fuzzy Monkey beeped three times.

Hanna looked at Rolf expectantly.

“Five minutes,” Rolf said in Gnimen. The second gnome girl tilted her head to the side. She brought an ice-pick like shiv out from behind her back and let it hang loosely in her hand.

“You Gnomon?” she asked, tears already forming in her eyes. Her lip quivered and her hands shook. “You help us? Now?”

“Yes,” Rolf replied in their native language. “Hanna, you catch her up. I need to get this hatch open to get inside. I’ve got to survive for at least ten minutes, then we all can get out of there. That’s it.”

“He save Zweiundvierzig? Forty-two?.” the younger one asked, pointing to the hatchway. “She there.”

Rolf looked at the girl and then Hanna. All he needed was one more thing to think about. He gave Hanna his best “Handle her” expression and went back to working the wire holding the door. It seemed to tangle more tightly the more he tried to manipulate it.

“Friggin’ Fey bullshit,” he said, looking at Hanna in frustration. “How were they getting in and out?”

“Zuhälter-Meister has rod. Wand. Touched it, wire no twist,” the younger one replied.

Fuzzy Monkey beeped incessantly.

“I hear you, Homie. Here goes nuttin’,” Rolf said, pulling on the neck-chain that held his coin. He stretched out the chain and tapped the coin on the wire. Sparks flew. Keeping the coin in contact, he tugged on the wire. It straightened, allowing him to pull it out of the latch. He snapped open the hatchway. Drawing the Warthog, he looked at the two scared gnome girls.

“If I don’t come out in ten minutes, just go,” Rolf said, pointing away from the tracks. “Inside the pack, there is a phone. Do you know how to use one?”

“We have broken them before.”

“Don’t break this one. Turn it on. Press one, there will be a nice lady on the other side. Tell her you’re with me, Rolf, and need help, then follow her directions so they can locate you. It will be different, but it’s a better life than you had. I’ve got to go. When the pack stops making that noise, and only beeps twice, we are safe. Do not open that hatch before then. If I don’t come out, or anything else tries to come out, use this to lock the hatch again.”

And he tossed Hanna the fey wire and pulled a flash bang off his vest. He hung over the edge, pulled the pin and chucked it toward the back of the car. It exploded inside and he leapt down the hatchway, onto the top of a visible crate. He looked up and saw Hanna’s smiling, but worried, face. The hatch closed.

“Good girl,” he mumbled. He drew up into an egress stance, Warthog held just below shoulder level, relaxed but firm grip. Ready to pivot the gun toward any target. His eyes adjusted quickly to the total darkness. The humidity and coppery smell was overwhelming. Death. It was the smell of death.

The walls started glowing. Hundreds of Sigils and symbols became evident as the car assumed a blue purplish glow. The fey spell was running. He glanced up at the hatch and saw a single oriental-looking letter glowing on it.

A slurping and sucking sound came from across the car. Along with high pitched screams in German and the snapping of tiny bones.

Rolf leapt to the floor and crept along the wall toward the rear of the car. In the middle, on a pedestal was a long stainless-steel case, it’s lid open. The inside was upholstered. It wreaked. Rolf crept on the Warthog trained toward the unseen cruncher, his eyes continually scanning for threats. He used a shuffling crossover step that his instructors had drilled into him.

“I hate being right. Never catch a break,” Rolf mumbled.

“Silence! Bitte still!” a powerful voice said. The car grew quiet as the Gremlins stopped making any vocalizations. Rolf felt his throat tighten. His will to speak gone.

“Halt! Stay where you are!” it said. Rolf’s legs would not move. He knew he was being glamoured. He heard the crunching and slurping continue. He concentrated on moving his arms and neck. They slowly responded. Letter of the law. Didn’t say he couldn’t move. Intent. The glamour tried to force the acceptance of its intent, Rolf’s will and gnome stubbornness re-routed it, giving way, but not giving up. His legs remained still, his feet fixed to one spot.

“What’s this? Ah, little one, you’re different. A little plumper…and you smell good,” the voice said. “Red blood is so much nicer than green.”

Rolf’s heart sank. It had to be the gnome girl known simply as Forty-two. He hadn’t been in time. A crunch and greedy slurp followed.

“Oh, yes, tastes like chicken,” the voice said, laughing at its own cleverness. “Du, da, bist da noch gnomes?”

“Nein!” came a gravely forced response.

“To bad. She was delicious. But beggars can’t be…wait a minute,” the voice said, followed by rapid sniffing noises.

“Oh, shit,” Rolf thought, concentrating on bringing his hands together. It seemed like hours had passed since the hatch closed, but it had been minutes.  He could feel beads of perspiration forming while he exerted his will, fighting the otherworldly command that held him in place. A face peered over the steel casket. Young, human. Ears slightly pointed. Black scraggly hair and lips covered in fluids.  Even under the purplish glow of the Fey Sigils, Rolf could see its distinctive red eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced. And you definitely aren’t gremlin,” the man said, smiling to show its extended incisor fangs.

“Yep, mutha’fuckin’ Denver all over again,” Rolf thought.

But he was no longer a rookie. He had survived the debacle in Denver and learned things since. Like how to do more than survive, he knew how to win.

“I can feel your struggle, little man,” the vampire said. “Trying to twist away from my will. Escape my need. What makes you think a mere gnome can do that?”

“Because G-Raff ain’t no blood-sucker’s meal,” he said as his fingers touched, the glamour giving way. He willed his release from the human world, touching the Fey realm. The wards would prevent the formation of a tunnel, but not the release of energy the effort would create. Rolf slapped his hands together and a blue flash lit the room.

His feet were moving within the blink of an eye. He swung the Warthog around and pulled the trigger. Two quick ones were on their way. One hit the vampire in the neck, the other grazed it’s ear. It was already in motion. As were the twenty or so surviving gremlins. Mayhem followed.

Rolf ran, leapt, bounced and grabbed Gremlins, using them for cover and fodder. He tried to track the vampire’s movements. He ended up in a corner with about ten gremlins, all facing the center of the car, holding improvised weapons. They looked at him in surprise. He shrugged and pointed toward the middle of the car where the distinct sounds of snapping bones, squished bodies and deathly screams emanated.

Rolf grabbed onto the long nail the nearest gremlin held. She looked at him like she was going to stab him. He jerked the nail away and handed her a broken piece of pallet. He made a stabbing motion with it and pointed at his heart. He repeated it and then she nodded. She broke into German and the other gremlins dropped their various implements to grab, or create, wooden weapons.

Rolf kept a small distance between himself and the nearest Frau gremlin. Enemy of my enemy, but he wasn’t stupid. The Sigils along the wall and ceiling glowed brighter. Ley Line being crossed? Had Hanna waited long enough and wired the hatch shut again? Rolf didn’t know for sure, but energy was energy.

The vampire leapt over the steel case, more gore spewed onto its ragged shirt, and landed in front of the remaining gremlins and Rolf.

“Organized revolt? Really?” It said, mocking the rabble.

Rolf nodded at the Gremlin Frau and brought the warthog to bear on the vampire.

“Popguns and sticks are not going to bother me, Little man,” it said to Rolf.

“We’ll see,” Rolf said as he lowered the Warthog barrel and reached forward. He pulled the trigger on the mini-Havoc flare. The .410 shell went off with a massive flash and loud bang. Rolf slid back with the recoil. The Vampire might have ignored or flinched away a single round from the .45, but the pattern of fifteen nearly dime sized silver discs were another matter. They tore into his leg, at the knee, shredding bone, tendon and muscle. The silver lodged and probably burned a bit.

The vampires face registered shock as it started to fall over, its leg in tatters.

“Fraulein attacke!” the gremlin frau screamed. The horde swarmed forward.

Rolf cracked open the mini-Havoc, popped the expended shell and reached up to his bandolier. He slid in the new round and there was a satisfying snap as he locked the breach into position. He brought the gun back up, moving and jockeying to get a clear shot, hopefully to the face or chest. It wouldn’t kill the vampire, but it would slow him down while it regenerated. And that took time. Time Rolf would need before the hatch opened and the train was past the Ley line.

Rolf fired off .45 rounds every time he saw exposed vampire under the gyrating tattooed purple mass. A mass that was getting smaller as the vampire grabbed individuals, snapped them or bit off their heads. A few were able to drive in the broken pieces of wood, but none of them got to its heart. They did, however, get its attention as the vampire rolled, spun and dodged away to dislodge the wooden spikes.

The vampire leapt over the steel casket, out of sight, taking the last few Gremlin Frau with it. There were more German war cries, the sound of meaty stabs and breaking bodies. And then silence.

Rolf backed up and leaned against the wall, which was actually the sliding door of the car. He was mid-car. He hit the release, dropped a magazine and slid in a fresh one. They held ten rounds and he had shot eight times. He didn’t want to get caught short.

The lid to the steel case slammed shut as the vampire slid across it and sat with his feet hanging over the edge. He looked down at his shredded shirt, mangled knee and numerous wounds that were rapidly healing over.

“You, little man, are a pain in the ass,” it said. “Not sure what your deal is. Gnomes don’t have this much fight in them. Whenever anyone from the coven wanted a snack, and the big dog warned us off of the tourists, we’d go down to the levy and dig a dozen or so of you out of some burrow. Like oysters on the half-shell.”

“Keep talkin’ shit, homie, we still gotz ta settle dis,” Rolf said. “Why the fuck you goin’ ta the big Easy when you act like you from there? Get run’t outta town?”

“Not really,” it said, leaning forward as it spit a piece of gremlin out of its mouth.  “I haven’t talked to anyone that didn’t speak Chinese for the last twenty years. I’ll entertain your question.”

The vampire crossed its leg, sitting casually. They could have been having a beer at a barbecue, it was so relaxed.

“I’m not some swamp-bred feral,” it said. “I’m a prince of sorts. Around ’95, the King of New Orleans, my maker, asked me to close a deal with a Chinese coven out of Hong Kong. Triad shit. Import-export thing. Required I go over.  It went south. Traditions ignored, blood was spilled. In the middle of that, Hong Kong gets turned back over to the Chinese. Whole new set of players. Waited a long time in a cell eating peasants, rats and chickens. Vampires have all the time in the world, so there was no rush to reach a new deal.”

The vampire’s eyes flared as it shifted position.

“Now, my King’s forged an alliance,” it continued. “A bargain has been struck, a compact in place. Tithes paid and two independent proxies to facilitate the exchanges. And in the case of the Zuhälter-Meister, to provide me an inflight meal as well.”

“Yeah, but you’re busted ol’ ass is still stuck in here wit’ me, and I killed all of them bitch-ass Zuhälter-Meister,” Rolf said, smiling, using both hands to hold the Warthog on target. “My crew of homies gotz that hatch wired and locked down, so you ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘tils I give the word.”

“Listen, you Tupac wannabe­–,” the vampire started.

“Pac’s dead, bro,” Rolf said sadly, putting his closed fist over his chest and giving a heavenly directed peace sign.

“What? Tupac? What the hell? Really? When?” the vampire asked, somewhat thrown off.

“Dat shit went down in late ’96. Capped like a dawg in Vegas. East coast, West coast thang, you know?” Rolf replied.

“That’s sad, but I still don’t believe…,” the vampire started to say, instead, it used a glamour to make a demand. “Tell me who’s up there!”

Rolf let the energy flow again. A blue flash. The Vampire blinked away its temporary blindness.

“Ain’t happenin’, dawg,” Rolf said. “Your deal?  It’s blown. You goin’ deal wit’ me or…”

The vampire moved in a blur. Scooping Rolf up and slamming him into the massive door. The slide shook on its rails as the vampire pointed its right index finger and stabbed through Rolf’s shoulder, pinning him to the door. Rolf held onto the Warthog, but barely. The vampire pressed in, its face inches from Rolf’s, the smell of blood and raw meat on its breath.

“Little man, I bet I can tear off pieces of you and make you talk. No more Gnome bullshit. You’ve got some way to signal them and you’re gonna do it. If the Zuhälter-Meister are dead, you’re the one that’s fucked. This trains going to crash in the next town. This car is supposed to be released already, but it looks like that didn’t happen. I’ll be okay in this warded room, but it will be an inconvenience for the people meeting me. After it turns dark, they might have to chew through a bunch of innocent people, and authorities, to get me out. You want that on your conscience?

“Don’t care, asshole,” Rolf said as he pulled the Warthog up under his right arm, braced it against the door and reached around to the Mini-havoc. He pulled the trigger. The vampire spun back, the left half of its lower abdomen blown away as the gun fell to the ground. Rolf stayed stuck to the door.

The vampire held its side where the silver coins smoked. Its eyes glowed red.

“Yep. Just like Denver,” Rolf thought. That was the point where the rest of his fed team would have come in, if they were there. But there was no team this time. Only Hanna and her young friend. Safely outside. Rolf smiled. At least they’d make it.

He was losing blood and getting a little wonky from the pain. He thought he saw a sliver of light, but when he focused, it was gone. Rolf focused on the vampire, with a nice hole blown in his side.

“Fuck you, little man, I’m going to drain you dry,” the vampire said as he lunged forward.

Rolf winced, closed his eyes and waited, but no bite came.

He heard a muffled curse and open his eyes to see Fuzzy Monkey staring at him with it’s one good eye.

“Hey Homie, long time no see,” Rolf said. Then he realized what the reunion meant. He broke into Gnimen. “Hanna, get the hell out of here! He’ll kill you!”

“Now, we do what we do best,” she yelled, from behind the vampire’s head. Fuzzy Monkey pulled against the creature’s head tighter, “Signe, do it now!”

Rolf looked lower and saw the other gnome girl, her name must have been Signe, running to the door. She stopped long enough to whip the Fey wire around the vampire’s legs. It instantly twisted itself tight. Signe leapt and jammed Rolf’s exemption coin into a gap between the frame and the metal sheet covering the door. The blue-purple glowing Sigils faded and disappeared.

Rolf smiled. Fuzzy Monkey, who had been holding his own, suddenly went flying as the vampire used the hand he had been nursing his wound with to tear Monkey off his face. He tried to twist and look at Hanna. She was up around the vampire’s neck, holding onto his collar, clawing the back of his head.

“Hanna, tunnel!” Rolf yelled, as he tried to raise his pinned arm. Hanna smiled back and let go with her arms, her legs tucked in the vampire’s collar as she rolled backward and disappeared from Rolf’s sight. His heart raced.

Pop.

A tunnel formed. The Fey wards were down. And while Rolf couldn’t hear what was on the other side of the tunnel above him, but he could see it. The Sun. The big, bright, beautiful Sun. The end of the 12-inch-wide tunnel opened inches above the vampire’s head. Instantly, its hair smoldered and grey smoke formed, small flames burst forth.

The vampire screamed and thrashed to get out of the way. The tunnel followed its originator, Hanna, and she was staying on the back of the vampire’s neck.

Rolf heard a loud creaking. He looked up, left and right, seeing Signe waving at him from above, standing on the slide rail the boxcar door used to slide open and closed. She grasped a metal bar, levering it into the now loose internal slide hinge mechanism.

“I break!” she yelled, giving a final twist and the entire door started falling outward, pivoting on the still intact bottom rail, into the daylight.

Rolf drew his knife with his right hand as the flaming vampire lunged in at him, it’s laughter haunting and filled with pain.

“I smell the silver on your blade, it won’t kill me, but you die now!” it said as it drove forward, mouth agape and aiming its strike at Rolf’s chest. Rolf drove the M9 blade home. It went deep into the Vampires chest, where the custom fuller, filled with genuine ironwood, penetrated the vampires heart.

The vampire froze, it’s eyes moving back and forth, its mouth still wide open.

“You’re coming with me asshole,” Rolf said, grabbing the vampire’s collar, pulling it tightly as the door completely fell away from the boxcar.

Rolf’s hands felt hot. His eyesight blurred. There was a horrible noise. The world spun violently. Nothing made sense. The heat grew. Rolf lost consciousness.

*******

Rolf Jørgensson opened his eyes and saw a grey light, the falling rain drops blurring his vision no matter how fast he blinked.. His body ached. He’d been here before. He must be dead this time.

As he tried to clear his eyes, a blurry face appeared. A pretty face. No hair. Weird scribbling on the head. A girl.

Hanna. And she was smiling, but had a worried look at the same time. He felt something slam into his back. Rough and bristly. like burlap.

“Slow down, elf bitch! He needs to rest!” Hanna yelled in Gnimen.

“Eat shit, garden ornament. I’m doing the speed limit,” came the reply. A second face, younger, but just as cute as Hanna, came into view. Signe. She was no longer purple and couldn’t contain herself, hugging Rolf. That hurt. It hurt a lot.

“What the hell? Where the fuck am I?” Rolf asked.

Hanna stared at him uncomprehending, then spoke. “You not street criminal anymore. You speak to me in Gnimen, Rolf Jørgensson. I not put up with your foolishness. Now what you say?”

Rolf thought for a second and then tried to sit up. Hanna and Signe lent a hand to sit him up carefully, putting small sacks and a blanket behind his back for support. Rolf’s head began to clear. It was still raining, but a warm rain under a bright grey sky.

“Where are we? How’d we get here? Where’s the vampire?” Rolf asked, feeling light headed, pausing when he realized how dry his throat was. “Water?”

Signe smiled and offered him a bottle of warm water, twisting off the cap with ease and helping to hold it as he swallowed. The water burned on the way down, but felt great. Signe pulled back and then let him have more, never letting him take too much in one swallow.

He was in the back of a pickup. Older one. Rusty and full of trash. He saw a dust trail kicked up in their wake. Dirt roads.

“We have new ride. Can you see alright?” Hanna asked. “We put salve on burns. You be alright. Healer lady say.”

Rolf nodded. What healer lady? He shook his head to clear it. The coin. He patted his chest and felt the familiar circular metal shape, still on its chain, under his bloodied shirt. Hanna smiled at his look of relief.

“Signe ran into the wreckage and found it. Here, you watch this,” Hanna said as she produced the burner phone and tapped the screen a number of times. She frowned, then tapped it a few more time. “Easier to break than to use. Ah, here is it.”.

She held the phone in front of Rolf, with her hand above so the screen was more visible in the daylight.

Rolf saw a giant burning mess. Looked like the train had crashed and the phone’s camera swept left and right, indicating a wide area. There were men in jackets, covering the entire alphabet in giant letters, all over the place. And Agent Barnes. Rolf frowned.

“Ah, shit, that’s not gonna be good,” he said.

Then the picture switched to selfie mode and Rolf saw Dr. Forester.

“Hello, Rolf, my brave little grumpy gnome. If you’ve survived, you’re watching this. That was a big mess you created. Lots of people talking. Train crashed before it reached Huntsville. Good thing. Could have killed hundreds. Last count, there are forty dead gremlins. What the hell are they even doing here? One dead mid to high level vampire. And lots of contraband in the remains of that car. Bad stuff. Really bad stuff.”

Dr. Forester leaned into the camera and the crash scene grew distant behind her.

“I wanted you out of here before any heavy hitters showed up, so I made this video and I’ll send it with your little friends. By the way, how do you become the pimp for two young girls in less than a day and a half of getting released? I thought we were past that sort of behavior. Regardless, I spoke with Agent Barnes, after I translated what the young ladies told me. My German is rusty, but my Gnimen is really bad.”

Dr. Forester frowned for a second. “Where was I? Oh, yes, Agent Barnes agrees that your previous associates will be informed to no longer pursue you or harm you in any way, or the US government may find it necessary to dig out every burrow from LA to Chicago to eradicate the bad elements in the Gnome community. As far as our superiors are concerned, you found what the contracted gnomes couldn’t, so it works out.”

Dr. Forester’s smile broadened, “And you’re now a very rich gnome, Rolf. Civil servants can’t collect, but a private citizen can. The bounties on all of these creatures, plus a few bonuses for artifact recovery, ought to put you well into six figures. I told Agent Barnes I would act as your representative and file the necessary paperwork. It’ll go to your account in the next few weeks.”

Rolf nodded at the screen and Hanna paused it. He took a few breaths to get oriented and relax, then looked at Hanna.

“Are you and Signe alright? Nobody hurt you or made threats?”

“No, the nice healer lady kept us away,” Hanna said, nodding happily. “Said she handle. She did. Got us ride.”

“Good. Play the rest, please,” Rolf replied.

“I’ve called in a favor,” Dr. Forester continued. “She’ll get you where you need to go. If she gets too surly, hand her this phone and I’ll talk to her. Be safe, Rolf Jorgenson. Enjoy the rest of your life and take good care of those girls. They saved your life!”

The screen froze on Dr. Forester’s face blowing a kiss.

Hanna looked at the screen and frowned. “She too tall for you, even though you too tall for me. But we will see. And she smell like Fey.””

Hanna abruptly threw an empty beer bottle at the back window of the truck. The driver slid open the window and looked back. Blonde hair, pointy ears, lots of makeup. Trailer park elf.

“You break that glass, you little shit, and I’ll toss your ass in a crick!” the elf yelled over her shoulder, as the truck swerved back and forth. “Gators down here love them gnomes for lunch.”

“What she say?” Hanna asked Rolf.

“She asked what you want,” Rolf replied in Gnimen

“Stop vehicle. Need to change dressing,” Hanna yelled to the driver. “Now.”

Rolf lay back in the southern sun, a light spray of warm mist dropping down on them. Hanna had a towel over her head and shoulders, forming a tent over Rolf’s chest, changing the bandage of the wound the vampire had inflicted.

The elf girl driver stood beside the truck bed, leaning over and watching, taking sips from a beer.

“So, what’s the doc got on you that you drive us hundreds of miles? Why you owe her?” Rolf asked.

“Nunya. As in nunya business,” she replied.

“Spill your shit or I start fakin’ pain and my little homegirl here calls the Doc to tell her how mean you are.”

“Why are all gnomes such total douchebags?” the elf replied, staring at Rolf. He stared right back.

“Fine,” she sighed. “You know how we left the Fey realm under nasty circumstances? Well, the high elves stayed. They had to. They do things over there that no other creature of Fey can do. They stayed so we could go. Happened forever ago.”

“I heard part of dis’ befo’. What’s dat’ have ta do with this, and yo narrow-ass?”

“Well, when the Guardian Ranger of the Eternal Jade Order and Protector of the Forest of Souls asks you to do them a solid, you just fucking do it,” the elf said, finishing the beer and tossing the empty into the bed. “Especially when that half-breed Siren bitch compels you to see it her way. Now shut the fuck up and I’ll get you to your new home as fast as possible. Oh, and tell your little ho to back the fuck off!”

Rolf smiled. Hanna looked at him with a smile and then shot the elf girl a dirty look. He had to admit it, he knew a couple of badasses, both Dr. Forester and Hanna. The truck started rolling and Signe ran to the raised wheel well and leaned out over the top of the bed, smiling as the wind blew across her face, Fuzzy Monkey’s arms protectively wrapped around her, his fake fur rustling in the breeze.

Twelve hours later, Rolf, with his arm around Hanna’s shoulder, walked up a long dirt road. Beside him was Signe, still carrying Fuzzy Monkey and skipping along without a care in the world. They approached what appeared to be a guard shack. Alabama was hot, but they would learn to adjust.

“Yo, any mofo in dat shack, I’m here ta sign up,” Rolf said, holding up his exemption coin at the end of its chain. “G-Raff in the house and I’m here ta show you bitches how ta kill vampires!”

The End