“And you don’t appear to know how to properly break someone out,” she said. A heart-shaped face materialized within inches of the opening. A face too beautiful to be kept in an iron cage. Eyes the color of glowing embers shifted and studied the group, one by one until they settled on Drake. Her expression was demure, coy, curious. A playful smile crept across her full, pink lips.
Ice slinked down Drake’s back.
“You’re stuck in a top-secret military weapons cache surrounded by... monsters, and you didn’t know there were two passwords. You didn’t think this one through, did you?” Fang’s eyebrows scrunched together as she pouted.
“Why the hell would I listen to you?”
“Do you know how many men are in an army regiment?” she asked. “A thousand or more against twenty-four of you. Sounds reasonable,” she said. “And me? Well, they’ll just put me back in my corner until it’s time to play.”
Drake shot a look around, hands clenching at his sides. He pulled out his handgun and pulled the hammer back.
“What if I stick the barrel of my Colt in your pretty little nose and threaten you with a face full of aurorium?” He raised the weapon at her.
“It won’t change the fact the Army is coming.” She shook her head and gazed steadily at his sweat-lined face.
He pulled the gun away. “What do you want?” he hissed.
“The music box.” She held out her hand.
Drake studied her smiling, kind face. “I give you the music box, and you let us out. I may as well trust a rattlesnake.”
“You have fifteen seconds to try again,” the mechanical voice echoed.
“Uh oh.” She pouted.
Drake cursed, and slammed the music box into her waiting palm. “There! Now you have it. Open the damned door, or we’re all dead!”
“You have five seconds to try again.”
“No need to tremble, little boy,” she teased. “Abyss,” she said.
“You have... gained egress,” the sentry said, and the huge doors unlocked and pulled open. Fang pulled the toy inside, and the soothing music played from the small confinement as the men shoved the cart outside into the downpour.
“I ain’t sure if this was worth the gold,” Drake said.
Through the sheets of rain, the chimes of the music box played along with the soft whispers of the vampire. Those near glanced at each other as she whispered with a kind, loving voice. A stark contrast to the stories of her brutality. Or maybe those stories weren’t true?
“Let’s go, gentlemen,” Drake said. “We got a book to find.” He wiped his face and took his hat off. Steam rose from his matted hair.
Gerrick side-eyed him. “We’re almost done, Drake. We’ll get a beer at Maggie’s after this.”
But Drake ignored the consolation. His bloodshot eyes stared at the cage for far too long. He wiped his head again and leaned close to the cage.
“Shut up in there,” he said. “Who are you talking to, anyway?”
Fang ignored him and giggled the way girls do when they’re whispering their secrets.
“I’m warning you!” he roared.
Her voice hushed, as if scolded. But, before long, more giggles spilled out.
“Are there two of them in there?” Gerrick asked.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Stop the damned the cart!” The men held fast as he grabbed the aurorium rod and shoved it inside. Horrid screams erupted as he struck the vampire again and again. Violence filled the air and some of the men shrank back, including the tall ogrek. Drake finished and yanked the rod out, baring his teeth.
“You all done? Because I’ll keep this up until your little imaginary friend is dead!” he growled.
The cage rocked with a bang, and the men jumped. Grumbling from within turned into cursing, turned into fists smashing against the iron hatch. Knots boiled across the metal with horrible speed.
Drake stepped in and slammed the rod inside.
She roared.
Rifles were pointed at the cage, some trembling, and all waited for the inevitable command to open fire. Drake’s arm jerked violently, and the rod was yanked out of his grip. The mercenaries froze. Loud moans and sobs echoed out from within and the mercenaries eyed each other.
Gerrick turned to Drake. “Do you think—” He stopped when the iron cage erupted with violence.
Metal groaned under the strength of the vampire. Weapons were readied, and the men repositioned for more accuracy. Lightening creased the sky as great drops of rain fell.
“Do... do we have another aurorium rod?” Gerrick asked as he stepped back.
Drake shook his head.
Screeching metal pierced the air as the iron door wrenched open and the men’s eyes shifting between Drake and the emerging threat.
A tall woman unfolded herself and stepped out, arching her back and rolling her shoulders, ignoring the rifles pointed at her. Lightening flashed across the sky, highlighting her features. Tangled, short hair the color of midnight lay pasted across an attractive, lean face. Skin-tight, black leathers clung to her slender frame, far too slender to have punched her way out of an iron cage. With her eyes shut, she tilted her face up as cold rain tapped against her pale skin. Taking a deep breath, she stood there for a moment mumbling to herself, lost in thought it. Finally, she turned to the men and opened her eyes, the glow of fiery vengeance emanating from under her brow. Her sharp gaze counted the armed men in rapid succession. There was a great sense of a dangerous predator amidst them, one they wouldn’t escape from.
She lowered her pointed chin, locking eyes with Drake as a plume of frozen air rose from her smiling lips.
“You know what they say,” Fang said. “If you spot a vampire...”
Drake’s skin froze.
***
If there was anything at all Fang was good at, it was spreading chaos. Using her training meant violence, either by blade, firearms, bare hands or sharp teeth. She never asked to be made into who she was, but in times like this, she was thankful to be an indomitable force. When she was in her element, as she was now, time slowed like molasses compared to her speed.
Rifle bores flashed in the dark, filling the air with sizzling lead. Her quick eyes tracked the bullets trajectory and made small adjustments to the initial salvo and dodged out of the way. It would become a problem when more weapons were fired at once, but right now there was complete pandemonium as men uttered their last before the angel of death collected their souls.
Five mercenaries fell before she felt the sting of a carbine. Sharp claws dug into their soft flesh and she ripped open a throat before he could scream. A bullet tore into her shoulder blade and she somersaulted through the air, twisting her body through the storm of bullets. Her feet hit the deck, landing between two thugs. With terrible strength she grabbed their heads and slammed them together, splashing her with their bone, brains and blood. That one moment cost her; bullets tore through the flesh of her back and legs. With a grunt she back flipped and picked up the iron door to shield her from the fiery spray of the rifles. Open, bloodied wounds along her skin sealed shut when a bright burst of aurorium exploded inches away from her face. Even though she squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, the noxious cloud of vapor flashed-burned her skin like scalding water.
She spun, and launched the iron door into a cluster of men. Limbs and meaty chunks flew in different directions. Bullets zipped past her as she leapt into another group, tearing throats, shattering bones and disemboweling men too slow to move. An orange-tipped bullet split the air and she lunged, but not in time. White-hot metal raked across the back of her leg. She cried out. The searing pain threatening to cripple her, but she had to keep moving, had to make them miss, had to kill them before they killed her. This was her hour of escape, and failure was not an option. She grabbed two by the throat and leapt into the sea. Under the temporary safety of the freezing water, she squeezed their throats with her vice-like grip. They shuddered until they were still.
There were t
en mercenaries left.
Bullets sizzled through the freezing currents. She pulled herself behind a piling and gathered her bearings. Shredded from the elbow down, her left arm repaired itself. Bone grew and strengthened, new skin stretched, pulling itself back together until the wounds were a distant memory. The aurorium scratch on the back of her leg would take much longer to heal. She glanced down at the scars on the back of her hands and let the other wounds mend.
The chill of the water brought back the past she fought so hard to forget. She stared out at the expanse of the sea stretching into darkness. The shape of her sister loomed in the distance as memories flashed back to their fateful voyage through the North Atlantic. The seas were much more violent then. Over two-hundred years had passed and this one memory would never leave her alone.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Shaking away her haunted past, she concentrated on the task on hand. Trevin and Moreci had forced her into the mold of a trained monster, covered her body in aurorium scars, and made her the way they wanted her to be.
Not anymore.
She squinted toward the surface, where Drake and his men were waiting. With fists clenched, she swam back to the foot of the pier to finish the job. A diversion was necessary. Make them look one way, attack from behind. She had done this a thousand times. Simple.
With powerful blows, she split the pilings and tore them apart one by one. The pier fell to pieces, cutting off the men’s escape to land. Unless they were very strong, very fast swimmers, they were trapped.
The rainstorm yielded to a drizzle as she glided through the water and popped up underneath the pier, listening to the chaos: feet losing purchase, men falling down, weapons skidding into the water. Others shot blindly into the sea. Two of them spoke, the ogrek and the leader, Drake of their withering, incompetent operation.
“Where’s she at?” Gerrick asked.
“We lost fourteen men in less than half a minute. Money be damned!” Drake shouted.
Walls of plaster, thick wood cracked apart, and electric lights exploded as the warehouse collapsed into the rolling sea. Flames spread through what was left. The roars and screeches of the caged beasts were deafening.
Such a perfect diversion.
Fang leapt from the sea and picked Drake’s men off one by one, attacking from different points. Their guns fired wildly at the empty air and rolling waves. Pent-up fury rushed through her veins, and their screams were stifled as they sank into the dark water. She leapt once more out of the water, landing on the ogrek’s shoulders. His wide muscles tensed, but not to fight. He was confused, terrified.
Useless.
Her sharpened teeth sank into his neck, and blood gushed from the pierced skin. Warm tingles washed over her skin, and her eyes glazed over as crimson rivulets streaked down her chin. She drank what her body had been craving for years. Weakness and fatigue evaporated as delicious warmth flooded her muscles and bones.
The hollow shell of Gerrick crumpled to the floor. A wide smear of blood covered her mouth from ear to ear, dripping onto her chest. Drake squinted through the smoke and flames, watching the shape of the vampire advance.
He pointed his forty-five-caliber revolver. The aurorium bullet burned bright inside the barrel, her warning signal.
“You think you can cover fifteen yards in a hurry?” he asked.
She tilted her head.
“I don’t miss, neither,” he added.
“I’m pretty certain you missed a few times.” She wiped her mouth.
He cocked the hammer back.
She blurred.
His finger squeezed, but she was next to him, bending his elbow. His ear disappeared in a burst of hot, orange flame.
He cried out, and his knees slammed into the planks, the gun clattering to the side.
“One of your mistakes was not carrying enough aurorium,” she said, picking splinters from her knuckles. “The handlers always carried aurorium-embedded pendants, knuckle-dusters, neck collars and other tools. Kept me on my toes. Compliant. Fearful. Orderly. But, that was from experience. They got tired of losing men.”
She flexed her fingers, rolled her neck and squinted at the puddle of mess kneeling before her. Flames from the warehouse glinted off his dripping, bloody face. Wet planks shimmered orange and gold beneath her feet. The pitiful cries of beasts had long since subsided.
“Aww, your lips are quivering,” she teased. “And you made a mess in your pants. I thought you were a professional.”
“Ears are ringin’,” he groaned.
“Indeed. Now. Tell me, who hired you?” she asked.
He grimaced. “Damn ear’s gone. Can’t think straight.”
She had no pity for him. His heart rate had increased with stress, but it indicated he wasn’t lying. He was a hired gun with limited knowledge of his employer. Amateur.
“What are your leads on Trevin and Moreci?”
“Trevin’s in his whorehouses just a few blocks from here. No one’s seen Moreci.” His breaths came in ragged gasps, and he kept his eyes shut. Pain compliance always worked. She had had years of it.
“And what are they going to do with the book?”
“Why would I know?” he spat.
She used her Reach. The slightest vibrations echoed from his conscience. Loathsome memories lapped against her own conscience, and she recognized the abhorrent emotional scarring on his soul, part and parcel of a murderer. And he wasn’t just a murderer of men.
“You don’t like women, do you?”
He moaned.
“I can’t read minds, but there is something I feel in my spirit, if I have one, and I just know that I know that I know.”
He mumbled and shook his head. “I don’t... I don’t understand.”
“You’ve murdered women, haven’t you?” She studied him: heart slamming against his bony ribs, breathing irregular, tremors in his eyes. A guilt-ridden mask lay deeper than the creases in his pockmarked face.
“You’ve murdered little girls—haven’t you?” Her tone chilled to ice.
Their eyes met. The sneer of his lips and the prideful gleam in his eye gave her all the answer she needed. She had seen faces like his. Arrogant. Cocky. Disturbing.
“What’s it like to be you?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“All alone.”
She didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought. You know, the world is full of people trying to live their life the best way they can. And then there’s you. All alone without a care for anyone or anything. Admit it. No one wants you. That’s why they keep you locked up.” He winced and squeezed his blood-covered hand into a fist.
“I don’t need anyone,” she growled.
“Like hell you don’t. I can see it in your damn yellow eyes. The only thing that could make it worse is if you weren’t fully vampire, and I’m willing to bet you aren’t. I know they pumped those chemicals into you. Made you strong. Agile. Quick as a rattler. Probably stuck some wolf fangs in your mouth. But they couldn’t do anything about that deep hole inside you that everyone’s born with. Hell, even a coyote needs a pack. You think you’re the exception?”
“I don’t want to be wanted or needed, because I don’t need anyone.” Her cheeks grew hot.
“You keep telling yourself that. I know you’re hardly killable, but face it. Someday you’re going to die, and ain’t nobody coming to your funeral. Hell, you’ll end up under a lump of dirt without so much as a stick or two to mark the occasion.”
Her heart thrummed. She flexed her hands, freezing drops of rain melting against the heat of her face.
“I’ll help you out. I got another aurorium shell in that forty-five Colt. Why don’t you do yourself a favor? Put it between those fangs in your mouth—”
She snapped his head around, and his body folded.
She walked away with a gnawing pressure flooding her chest. She raised a fist up to her mouth, squeezed her blurry eyes, and sat at the edge of the pier,
legs dangling over. The ocean rose and fell beneath her in perfect rhythmic beats. She stared at nothing. The rain returned.
“What’s it like to be you?”
Her mind grappled with his challenge. What was the answer? Was it different than his assessment? She turned her head and eyed the handgun lying near his body. It took too long to turn away.
She pulled one knee up and rested her chin against the shredded leather and stared at the water. The last time she had looked out over the rolling ocean, she’d been searching for her little sister. Her throat had grown hoarse from her calls, to the point of bleeding. She cried out to God, to the sea, to anyone listening. But nothing and no one brought Embeth back.
A lump broke through the surface and her bleary gaze focused on the corpses drifting along with the swell of the ocean. All of them floating on crimson clouds until they were collected by ships or swallowed in the depths of the sea.
What if Embeth had been floating like that? And for how long? Did someone collect her remains? Or was she still—out there?
Her mind wrestled with the fact that these men in the ocean were dead because of her. Just like Embeth.
She took a deep breath, held out her open hands, tilted her head back and squeezed her eyes shut against her bitter reality. Frozen air rushed over her skin. Her palms filled with water, daring her fingers to endure another moment. It was difficult to smile—and honestly, what was there to smile about?
The rain filled her palms. She made a fist, squeezed the water out and opened them again. But it wasn’t water she was looking at. She was squeezing out the blood she had spilled over the years. It filled her palms before she squeezed it out again. Open and close. Death after death. Curse after curse. And if she’d killed her sister, then that’s what she was.
A monster.
A killer no one believed existed. A whisper in the dark no one suspected. She was covered with transgressions that came along with the curse, stains on her conscience that would never wash away.
Without another thought, she stood and picked up Drake’s gun. The aurorium bullet inside pricked her skin. She clicked the cylinder into place and sat at the edge.
Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) Page 2
