by John Conroe
“Really? I had no idea people talked about us,” I said, which was true.
“Is he for real?” Tara asked Sharra.
“Yes, Olivia says he’s a little clueless,” Sharra replied to her, then turned to me. “They talk about you the most, Chris,” she said. “They say you can do things, that you have connections. The guys outta Brooklyn say you saved a whole bunch of men from…something….something really, really nasty last year!”
The waitress was back with my milk, saving me from answering, and was ready to take our orders. She was going to start with me, but it’s always ladies first, so I pointed to Sharra to lead off. She ordered a salad, Leia ordered soup and half a sandwich, and Tara ordered a salad as well. Then it was my turn.
I ordered a bratwurst on a roll with sauerkraut, a Black Forest ham and swiss on pumpernickel and a bowl of potato soup. Both sandwiches came with chips so that would help. And I asked for a refill on my chocolate milk, which was gone.
The three at the table looked at me with huge eyes and the waitress just shook her head and grinned.
“What? I’m hungry!”
“It’s not fair that some people can eat like that and not gain a pound!” Sharra said.
I didn’t tell her that I was planning on a big slice of German chocolate cake for dessert.
“So, Shar…were you able to get what I asked for?”
She nodded while sipping her Diet Coke and handed me a piece of folded paper.
“Leia and Tara helped with hiding my inquiry. Files like this one are flagged. Looking them up can get you fired,” Sharra said, with a shrug.
“Oh, I didn’t know that! Listen, Sharra, I didn’t want you to do anything that would get you in trouble!” I said.
“Relax! With my girls here covering my tracks, no one is gonna know. Why do you want her info anyway?” she asked, her eyes slightly narrowed. “You’re not going to ask her out are you?”
I choked on my milk, almost spraying it across the table.
“Briana Duclair? Me? Out? Are you crazy?” I sputtered.
She smirked and the other two giggled.
“Actually, the word is that she has been very interested in you,” she said.
“Yeah, well the police grapevine is nothing if not efficient,” I replied.
“So that’s all true?” Leia asked. “She’s interested in you?”
“Well, if you mean interested as in ‘dissected and under a microscope’, then yeah!” I said, but almost instantly regretted my choice of words, especially as all three leaned back, eyes wide.
“Er…maybe not dissected,” I tried a retraction.
But all three were exchanging glances and then leaning forward again. Sharra arched one eyebrow at me.
“No, I think you meant dissected in every sense of the word. And just ‘cause your suspended on some bullshit charges doesn’t mean you’re not still a member of New York’s finest,” she said with a fierce glare.
It took me a second to realize that her anger wasn’t directed at me. The other two smelled angry as well.
“No federal bitch is gonna mess with ours!” Tara said. “She’s gonna regret this!”
“Ah ladies what are you going to do, ‘cause I don’t want any of you getting in trouble for me,” I said, then backpedaled as I read their expressions. “I mean, I’m already in trouble, don’t you go getting fired or anything.”
“Sugar, no one’s gonna know nothing! But dragon lady gonna have a hell of a time!”
“Chris, the feds are always yanking our chains, especially after nine-eleven,” Sharra said, “But this bitch Duclair just got an entire squad eliminated! I’m getting a psychic vision…of huge fines, unpaid taxes, traffic violations!” She held her hands up dramatically, like a gypsy palm reader at county fair.
The waitress brought our food, which stopped me from getting any details, and by the time she was done dispersing it, the ladies had all changed topics, as if by common agreement. I dug in, but after a few bites a thought occurred to me.
‘Hey, do any of you guys know where Oliva from my squad ended up?” I asked around a bit of bratwurst.
“Yup, she’s in IT, we see her all the time,” Sharra said.
That explained a lot of their information.
“Well, say hi to her for me will you?” I asked.
“Sure thing, Chris!” Sharra answered. Then, looking casually at her salad, she threw out a question.
“So..you still with that Russian girl?”
I frowned. They knew I was seeing Tanya?
“Er…yeah.”
She looked up quickly. “You don’t sound too certain?”
“Well we had a little issue, a miscommunication,” I said, “Turns out I’m an idiot! Who knew? But we’re getting past that.”
It sounded lame to me and I was the one spinning it. They had the courtesy to drop that line of questioning, although I could read the disbelief and worse, hope, in their eyes. The topic changed to the Yankees prospects for the upcoming season and we continued our lunch without referring to my suspension or my romantic situation. I paid for the bill, added a good tip for the waitress and said goodbye to the ladies.
Before heading back to the subway, I stopped at a branch of my bank and withdrew $8,000 in cash from my savings account, then hit the ATM just outside for a $1250 withdrawal (the max the bank allowed) from my checking. Realizing what the Sharra and her girls could do to make Briana’s life miserable had reminded me of what she could do to me. Going to cash might not be necessary, but Gramps always said having it and not needing it was better than needing it and not having it, which applied to many things in life.
The slip of paper Sharra had given me listed three important pieces of information: Duclair’s address, her phone numbers (home and cell) and last, the description and license number of her car. I needed all that to put my plan together. She wanted a lab rat, a lab rat she would get.
Agent Duclair lived in a twelve story apartment building on West 30th street in Manhattan. A nice, upscale building and based on her apartment number, 10G, she was near the top floor.
I found her address and walked around it, snapping a few pictures with my cell phone. It was surrounded on two sides by taller buildings, situated near Chelsea Park. Very nice locale, with an underground parking garage and a lobby security guard. The building was architecturally interesting with an asymmetrical roofline. In fact, the building only had nine full floors, the top three being broken up by design into fewer, but larger apartments, culminating in two large penthouses.
I had spotted a Dunkin Donuts two blocks back. I walked back, got a large black coffee and a half-dozen donuts. I wasn’t hungry, but any surplus of calories I could build is important.
* * *
On a sidebar, my doctor, Dr. Singh (he’s a vampire), has a theory that I wouldn’t have been a viable offshoot of the V-squared virus a hundred years ago. Maybe not even fifty. Not enough food to support me. The very over-abundance of cheap, frivolous calories that makes our nation obese, allows me to survive. Vampires use human blood to fuel their use of whatever energy they use. Blood is concentrated and actually, more efficient than regular food for this purpose. But I don’t drink blood, which he theorizes, keeps me from preying on the population I was designed to protect.
So instead of blood, I use regular food, but a lot of it. Dr. Singh had done a number of tests on my metabolism, and found my body was much more efficient at using food, burning it more completely then it used to, like a woodstove versus a regular fireplace. My stomach acid is about four times more corrosive than it used to be (which makes me hope I don’t get acid reflux). My enzymes, are all more brutal, able to break down even cellulose if I have to. So far I seem to have an iron stomach. Good thing ‘cause somehow I don’t think Pepto-Bismol’s gonna cut it.
* * *
The girl behind the counter got flustered as I paid for my order, dropping my change all over the counter. That seems to happen a lot nowadays. I smiled to rea
ssure her, but that just caused her to get beet red and slightly breathless. Her heartbeat was going a mile a minute. Could I be any more of a freak? My hand absently checked to make sure my sunglasses were in place, which they were.
Finding an empty table by the back wall, I settled in with my back to the door. Not tactically sound, but I just couldn’t take anymore staring. The caged thing inside me perked up, automatically providing one part of my brain with a sound and smell coordinated schematic of the restaurant and its inhabitants. That was new. I let it assume watchdog status over my senses, while I reviewed the pictures of the building.
It would be a ridiculously easy climb, the outside walls rife with handholds. Briana’s apartment was on the tenth floor, and once I figured out which side of the building it occupied, it would be a snap to break in. Now I just needed to get some supplies. I called Chet Aikens while I scarfed the donuts, and was rewarded with information on the best sources for my needs. But before I could hang up, he offered another tidbit.
“Hey Chris. Sommers, DeMarco and Takata and I are going out for beers and maybe shoot some pool…you in?” he asked, his voice tentative.
I had never been one to go out much, and over the last seven months, most of my free time was spent with Tanya. But I hadn’t seen anyone of them in a couple of days so I agreed. He gave me the pub address and we hung up.
With the first part of my plan figured out, I finished my coffee and left, walking as I do now, my head down and not making eye contact with anyone. Cold weather is better, ‘cause I can hide in layers of hoodies and jackets. These spring temperatures were too warm for me to cover up. My body temperature is higher than a human’s, about 103 degrees Fahrenheit, making light jacket weather for me about thirty degrees. Warmer than that and it’s tee shirt time. I’m not sure how I’ll handle the summer temps.
Chapter 19
I got back to my apartment with a couple of bags of groceries, checked my mail and did some domestic crap. About five ‘o’clock I threw a black short sleeve button down over a fitted grey tee and a pair of decent jeans and headed out. It wasn’t dark yet, but I sent a text to Tanya anyway. She wasn’t nearly as affected by sunlight as the others and was often up early. Sure enough she answered right away.
T: Hi your self. I can feel you again.
C: Heading to a pub in Manhattan to meet the guys from the squad for some beers. But I’d rather come see you!
There was a rather long pause before she came back.
T: Not yet Chris. Soon. Who’s going tonite?
C: Steve, Chet, Fran and Brian. What are you going to be doing tonight?
T: I’m doing some research for my grandmother. She thinks it will help me.
C: What’re ya researching?
T: She’s got me translating some old Russian and German documents from WW2.
That was interesting. My own family history was partially tied up in WW2 Germany. My Russian grandfather had been a prisoner of war.
C: What’s it about?
T: Nope. Not gonna say. My secret!!!!!
C: Awww, come on? Not even a hint?
T: I already gave you too many hints. Maybe when I’m done, if you’re good, I’ll share it with you.
We continued to banter back and forth, which was a good sign, but she wouldn’t give me any details. I had to wonder if it had to do with my grandfather. The vampires, Tanya’s grandmother especially, were extremely interested in the origins of my mutated genetics. Somewhere in my mother’s or grandfather’s past, someone had been exposed to the V-squared virus and it had left a change in my DNA. When I ingested Tanya’s blood seven months ago, the powerful dose of virus had ‘changed’ me, making me a not-vampire, not-werewolf, but something new….a unique freak.
* * *
I found my way to the pub, which was a fairly classy Irish type, with high ceilings, a thirty-foot bar, red brick walls and Celtic ambiance. The others were already there, which wasn’t surprising as they mostly lived in Manhattan. Besides the four from the squad, there were two others, Steve’s wife Edie, along with Brian’s partner, Sean.
It had been a complete shock to meet Sean at a squad Christmas party, as I hadn’t a clue that Brian was gay. Nothing about the quiet, blocky combat instructor would lead one in that direction, but there it was nonetheless. Obviously, a close-quarter combat instructor might want to keep his homosexuality a secret if he was training mainly heterosexual men in grappling and hand-to-hand martial arts techniques.
But Sean was a really nice guy, and Brian was as solid and dependable a cop as you could hope to find, so really, when I analyzed my feelings, it didn’t make a bit of difference. Better to have somebody, than go through life alone.
The others greeted me loudly, and Steve shoved a beer into my hand as soon as I had accepted my hugs from Fran, Edie and Sean (who was just going for a laugh, which he got). They had claimed a couple of tables in the back, right next to the two big pool tables. Further back against the rear wall, a four pack of guys were playing darts.
Steve had poured the last of the Smithwick’s into my glass, so Chet shoved the empty pitcher into my hands for a refill. The bar wasn’t too packed but I still needed to thread through patrons on my way to the bar where I waited for the barmaid to notice me. She was chatting with a couple of guys while she cleaned glasses and it gave me time to appreciate the view. Nice jeans! Finally, glancing my way, she sauntered over, taking her time to pick up a tip, wipe the bar, and generally do anything but wait on me. When she got around to my corner of the bar, I was starting to get annoyed. Pretty, brown hair and brown eyes, slight dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. She arched one eyebrow coolly and waited for my request.
“Can I get this refilled with Smithwick’s and maybe another pitcher as well?” I asked.
She nodded, picked up the pitcher and started to fill it, all without a word. What bit her in the ass?
A couple of girls to my left were looking my way, but after a quick smile, I avoided their glances and ignored the bartender ignoring me. The wall behind the bar had pictures of celebrities with a guy that was most likely the owner, so I studied them while trying to figure out what I had done to alienate someone I had never met before.
“Hey Gordon, what are ya doin’? Brewing the damn stuff yourself?” Fran said from behind me.
“Just getting it now. I’m gonna get another ‘cause this one won’t last long,” I answered as she slid up next to me.
“Good idea, better get two more. We’re thirsty tonight!” she said.
The bartender brought the pitcher over, smiled at Fran, then gave me a look and asked, “Did you figure out that ‘maybe’ pitcher or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll take two more.”
She nodded and turned to fill them. Fran glanced from her to me and then elbowed me.
“Chris, take off your sunglasses. They make you look like a poser,” she said.
“Aww, Fran … I don’t really like to do that.”
“Listen, Gina’s not here to kick your butt, so it’s up to me to keep your nose clean. Off with the shades, you’re among friends. Not gonna bother anybody back there!”
The two girls next to us were blatantly listening to our conversation, but I ignored them, and with a sigh took off my glasses, putting them in my shirt pocket.
“Happy?” I asked.
“Nope, not until you get those other pitchers over to the table and I kick your ass at pool! Then I’ll be happy!” she said with a smile, heading back to the table.
The bartender handed me one of the pitchers and after a glance at me, started to fill the third. The girls next to me were staring, so I went back to looking at the photos, recognizing a couple of celebrities who had been at Tanya’s club, Plasma.
Sally Surly, the barmaid, brought me the last pitcher and I started to hand her two fifties, but she waved them off.
“Your friends started a tab,” she said, her tone less chilly than before.
“Okay, thanks,” I answe
red, thoroughly puzzled by her behavior.
Retreating quickly to our table, I slid in next to Fran, who watched me with a bemused expression.
I shook my head and she laughed.
“You’re a piece of work, Gordon! Totally clueless, aren’t you?”
“What the hell did I ever do to that ice queen bartender?”
“She gets hit on about a thousand times a week. You stand there with poser sunglasses on, looking like a player, and you wonder why she might be a touch standoffish?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. It’s been difficult getting used to all of my changes. It took me two months to stop breaking door handles and shattering glasses. Then, another month on top of that to learn to move slowly around people.
Newly turned vampires are only several times stronger and faster than humans, and have years to adjust before they gain even more power. I had rocketed past most four- and five hundred-year-old vamps in seven months time. Then I had the headaches of hyper senses, not to mention the temper that came with my dose of demon blood. So you’ll pardon me if I concentrated on those and ignored the changes to my looks. Having people, especially women, notice me after years of living below the radar, was last on my list of things to deal with. I didn’t understand women, probably never would.
“Okay, I guess that makes sense. I’ll just stay back here and that way she won’t have any issues with me, right?”
Fran sighed and shook her head, “You’ll brave the demons of hell, but a barmaid scares you silly, is that it? Chris, I hereby designate you official beer getter for the rest of the night! Gotta face your fears!
Now, c’mon we’re up,” she said, pointing at the pool table.
Chapter 20
“Every broken enemy will know that their opponent had to be invincible. Take a last look around while you’re alive. I am an indestructible master of war.” – Disturbed.
Takata and Demarco were getting creamed by Chet and Sean, and I was on my fifth pint, when the werewolves walked in. Male and female, dressed casually, but definitely hunting. They spotted me, and the male, who was younger and probably lower in rank, did a little fist pump of victory. His partner, about five feet, ten inches, lean, and Scandinavian looking, gave him a level stare, stopping him cold. She swiveled through the crowd, ignoring the looks she was getting, her eyes focused on me. Not really even pretty, but very striking – sort of the Nordic huntress type. My very slight buzz burned itself out as the thing in my chest perked up. Her manner wasn’t threatening, but very direct and self-assured. The male was about an inch shorter, well-built, with curly auburn hair and blue eyes.
