Saved By Valor

by Justin Sloan

  At this the room burst into laughter, though Diego only laughed along because he wanted to be a team player. It really wasn’t that original, he thought, finishing his own whiskey as an excuse to stop laughing. The smile was at least genuine, because he felt they’d found one group they could trust.

  When they finally started making their way back to the Pod, which was tucked at the edge of a ledge behind some tall rocks, Garcia and Wallace were staggering. Diego probably would have been too, but his rapid healing abilities had taken care of the alcohol pretty much as soon as they had left the gates.

  They saw the Pod, doors closed, and something they hadn’t expected—four large men in leather vests using bats and crowbars on the windows. The reinforced glass hadn’t broken yet, but Diego could hear Clara and Platea screaming within.

  “Hey,” Diego yelled, breaking off from the other two in a run, “get the hell away from there!”

  The four men turned on him and charged. He didn’t want to give away that he was a Were, not out here, so he refrained from transforming. He prepared for a fight Instead, fists clenched.

  As soon as the men were away from the Pod, its doors opened and Platea and Clara emerged, rifles in hand, and gunned down two of the attackers. The other two were too close to Diego to risk the shot, so he met them head on. He dodged the first strike, but a lead pipe hit him in the shoulder. He spun with it, turning in time to see the first attacker pulling back to connect with a jawbreaker.

  Diego didn’t like being betrayed. His nostrils flared and he swung, the punch connecting with the man’s ribs with a loud crack. The thug stumbled back, coughing up blood, and fell, holding his side as he tried to breath. A punctured lung, no doubt.

  The other man went for him just as Wallace and Garcia caught up. Diego wasn’t letting them ruin his chance for revenge, though, so he quickly snatched up the lead pipe and blocked a strike, then thrust it so hard it punctured the man’s skin as it sank into his belly.

  “Damn.” Garcia watched the man stumble back and fall.

  Diego followed his enemy, took him by the hair, and asked, “What the fuck is this about?”

  The man just laughed. “Pops decided he didn’t like you after all.”

  That was all he needed to hear. A quick snap of the man’s neck, and Diego went charging back toward El Diablo. He found Micky with an arm around the redhead, tongue in her ear.

  Diego slammed Micky up against the wall, and it was clear Micky was surprised by his strength.

  “What gives?” Micky asked, the redhead clenching her fists and looking around for the others. They couldn’t move as fast as Diego, so they were nowhere to be found.

  “Your goons tried to get us out there,” Diego hissed between clenched teeth. “I’m figuring you have a death wish, because otherwise I don’t understand why they hell you would attempt something so stupid.”

  Micky struggled to break free, but couldn’t get out of Diego’s grip. He looked at him with a wide, confused expression, then closed his eyes and breathed. “Lady Woo.”

  “What?”

  When Micky opened his eyes again, they were calm but full of rage. “Let me ask you something. How are you sure it was our people?”

  Diego opened his mouth to tell him it was the leather jackets, but then his mind reached back to the moment. His grip on the man loosened as he realized what had been missing.

  “No devil patch, am I right?” Micky asked.

  “Shit.” Diego took a step back, considering this. “They wanted us to think it was you, then take you out—”

  “So they wouldn’t have to,” the redhead finished, nodding. “Sounds like Woo.”

  Diego considered them for a moment, then nodded. “Damn, I’m…sorry. Don’t suppose me bringing the best bottle of wine I can find next time I come out this way would make it up to you? Well, that, plus taking out Lady Woo, of course.”

  A wide smile erased the unease on Micky’s face and he nodded. “That sounds like the perfect combination to me.”

  Diego nodded and took a step to go, but paused. “Just to be clear, if I somehow find out it wasn’t her… If I was wrong, and get out there and find out those were your boys—”

  “Come back here and do what you gotta do,” Micky interrupted. “But I promise you it wasn’t. We may be hard sons of bitches, but we got honor. We’re loyal to the end.”

  Diego frowned. “Seems kinda contradictory to the whole devil motif, don’t you think?”

  Micky laughed, gesturing at his patch. “We wear it to say we ain’t afraid. We know what’s out there, and we say a big ‘fuck you’ to the devil, demons, whatever it is that tries to put fear in the hearts of men. Not us, no way.”

  Diego smiled. “I like that.”

  “Yeah?” Micky shared a considering look with the redhead, and she nodded. “Tell you what,” he added. “Just to prove we got no hard feelings…”

  He went back inside the bar and came out a moment later, holding a small leather vest with the devil patch over the heart.

  “What’s this?” Diego asked.

  “It’s yours, if you want it. Show the devil he don’t mean nothing to you neither.”

  The redhead smiled and urged, “Go on!”

  Diego stepped forward and accepted it, then tried it on. “Damn, perfect fit!” He glanced at the two large people in front of him and pursed his lips in confusion.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.” Micky sighed, closed his eyes, and when he looked up he had a tear in those large, fierce orbs. “Fits because it belonged to my boy. He was only fourteen. One of the two whose heads Lady Woo sent back. If you’re going to take her out, I’d like… If it isn’t asking too much, I’d like to be involved.”

  Diego ran his hand across the leather with new appreciation.

  “Hell, you can lead the expedition. But we have to confront her about it first, get her side of the story, you know. As much as you’re growing on me, we have to be sure we know the truth.”

  “I wouldn’t expect any less,” the man agreed. “I’ll gather my troops and get ready. You start the fight, then give us a signal and we’ll come charging.”

  Diego nodded. “Thanks again for the vest.”

  “We’ll see you soon,” Micky replied, and held out his arms.

  “You… He’s serious about this?” Diego asked, glancing between Micky and Darla.

  “Micky’s a hugger,” the redhead replied with a laugh. “Best get in there before he rescinds the offer.”

  Micky laughed and lumbered over, taking Diego in a big embrace before releasing him with a slap on the shoulder that nearly sent Diego toppling over.

  “Now get out of here before I decide I want more than a hug.” Micky winked, putting his arm around the woman again and walking off as if none of that had happened.

  For a long moment Diego stood there, thinking about the significance of the vest and what Lady Woo’s actions meant. As far as he could see, there was no way around going to war with her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Near Trondheim

  The group had finally managed to get the remaining airship working and into the air, and Cammie stood at the prow. She watched the other ship, captained by William, lift and start after them, and soon the two were sailing through the skies toward the north.

  Sunlight came in bursts as thick, billowing clouds moved rapidly overhead. The men and women on this ship stared at her, returning to work whenever she caught them. Soon it got old, so she retired to the control room, where the teenage girl, Lillian, stood with the older man.

  “Your father?” Cammie asked.

  Lillian nodded.

  Cammie glanced through the windows at her team of ten, all of them on edge, all of them ready in case there was trouble.

  “You know Trondheim well?”

  The girl nodded. “Our town is close, but… It’s a dangerous place, that whole region. The gods are fierce.”

  Cammie nodded. “We met some of their wrath on the
way over.”

  The man frowned, glancing at her and then saying something to his daughter.

  “How so?” Lillian finally asked. “Can you explain?”

  “Oh, just over the ocean it was crazy. A storm, thunder and lightning, you know? And we lost one of our ships.”

  Lillian did her best to hide a smile. “No, no, not that kind of gods. The real ones.”

  Cammie frowned, confused.

  “Oh, no offense meant.” The girl looked horrified. “I mean, if you worship a thunder god, that’s not unheard of in these parts. But we’re talking about the ones some of the other locals worship, and we’ve seen them. They’re real enough, that’s for sure.”

  “Assuming that’s true—that there are gods, real ones—you don’t worship them?”

  Lillian and her father shared a look of dread, then she shook her head while he cursed in Norwegian and feigned spitting.

  “Those gods are, how do you say, evil.” Lillian glanced at her dad, as if unsure whether to say more. “You’re in danger, coming here. It’s noble what you’re doing, bringing the boy home and all, but you should go.”

  A land with evil gods? Cammie was already starting to have a good idea of what those gods might be like. She had known enough Weres and vampires in her day to know that some might misuse their powers, and she wouldn’t put it past that type to force others to worship them.

  What she found hard to understand was how anyone would willingly go along. Well, unless it was a power thing. Perhaps these so-called gods had promised that their most loyal followers could one day become one of them?

  That was a scary thought.

  “I would like to meet these gods,” Cammie told them. “Maybe we could have a bit of a pissing contest, see who wins.”

  “A…what?”

  “Ignore me.” Cammie chuckled. “Old habits are hard to break.”

  A shot rang out, then another, clearly pinging off the airship’s hull.

  “What the hell was that?” Cammie yelled, already moving for the door as Lillian followed.

  The father shouted something and Lillian replied. When she and Cammie were outside, one of their men held a rifle over the side and fired a shot.

  “Another ship?” Cammie asked.

  One of her sailors, a woman she’d come to know as Trista, had her rifle ready too, but she shook her head. “Just a group on the ground, firing up at us.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “My guess, based on the direction they were heading when we flew past, is that they were going to retrieve their buddies and the airship. And they just figured out that we now have it.”

  Cammie smiled. “Conserve ammo. They can’t touch us as long as we stay high enough that they can’t pop our balloon.

  Trista smirked, staring at her as if waiting.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just, I’d heard you were notorious for your sexual innuendo jokes, and I figured—”

  “That I’d follow up with some sort of ‘pop your cherry’ joke or something?” Cammie rolled her eyes. “God, a woman has a little fun here and there, and suddenly she’s got a reputation.”

  Trista’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean any offense. I was actually looking forward to it.”

  “No, you’re probably right. I actually should’ve made a joke there, but the whole Valerie-not-being-back thing is throwing me off.” Cammie went to the side of the ship and glanced at the group of shooters below. They were cursing and shouting after them, but had given up trying to take down the airship.

  William’s ship, with Royland and Kristof on board, was farther to the east, safely away from the shooters, though she saw a flash of light reflecting from one of the ship’s portholes. Then, with a crack, one of the men below fell.

  These people had been shooting at her ship, so she couldn’t blame Royland for taking the shot. It made sense, after all, and those people didn’t seem to be on friendly terms with Lillian and her group, who were helping Cammie. So the enemy-of-your-friend rule applied here, but Cammie still felt kind of bad.

  Her mind told her heart to shut up and stop whining over it, but the truth was she didn’t like the idea of people dying who didn’t have to. She was glad to see that no more shots were fired from either group.

  “You know them?” she asked, turning back to see Lillian.

  She nodded. “Worshipers. Very loyal.”

  “Well, then, maybe that’ll get those gods to show their faces. Get ‘em riled up.”

  “Over the loss of one person?” Lillian shook her head. “They’re not likely to care about that, but the fact that foreigners are in their territory is probably reason enough for them to come out and cause some trouble.”

  “Gods?” Trista asked.

  Cammie laughed. “It’s a long story. Well, not really. I think there are some Weres nearby proclaiming to be gods.”

  Lillian’s eyes went wide. “How…”

  Cammie just smiled. “We’ve met plenty of their type where we come from, and trust me—they’re not gods.”

  For a long moment Lillian considered her, then pursed her lips in thought. “You aren’t here just to return the boy, are you?”

  “That would be a long journey just for one lost little boy, wouldn’t it?”

  “What, then?”

  Cammie and Trista shared a hesitant look, but Cammie figured that it could only help to tell this girl as much as she could.

  “There was a group of pirates over on the American continent; we had to take them out.” Cammie noted that the idea didn’t seem to bother this girl, meaning she was familiar with the concept of pirates, or whatever that translated to here. “While one of us was taking down their leaders, she learned about the groups out this way. And then there was the boy, telling us that Vikings, or some sort of bandits, whatever, had taken him from his home and sold him to the pirates in our area.”

  “You’ve come to stop the bandits?” Lillian asked. “I mean, we don’t really call them pirates here, because, like, what year is it? Vikings and pirates make it feel like we’ve gone back in time. If anything, they’re a bunch of infantile idiots playing dress-up.”

  “You are familiar with them, then,” Cammie said with a wink. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Don’t tell Valerie, okay?” Trista added with a chuckle. “I mean, did you see the way she was dressed?”

  Cammie shot her a glare. “Well, she’s obviously the exception. I thought she looked hot as hell in that pirate getup.”

  Trista nodded, stepping back as if Cammie would strike her.

  Note to self, Cammie thought. Don’t get too defensive.

  “You have a good shooter on that other ship,” Lillian said, arms crossed, staring out at the other ship. “Hope your friend doesn’t end up using them on us.”

  “We could’ve killed all of you within thirty seconds of meeting you,” Cammie assured her. “Trust me, the shooter over there won’t be doing anything rash.”

  Lillian shrugged. “So you say. We’ve learned not to trust too easily.”

  Soon they were back to simply sailing, the three taking up a corner of the control room and sharing stories about what it was like growing up in different parts of the world. Cammie found it interesting that Lillian had learned to defend herself at such an early age, but hadn’t learned about these gods until they had come over a few years back. In some ways, she felt, they were very similar.

  Trista, however, had been raised by a single dad in the wilderness northwest of Prince Edward Island. She had largely been sheltered, to the extent possible, until the day he didn’t come back.

  “He…passed away?” Lillian asked.

  Trista nodded. “Found his body a couple weeks later as I was tracking a squirrel for food. A bad fall, was all it was. He missed one step and my life was turned upside down. For a while I resented him, even more after I’d joined the pirates and learned what my new life would be like. It was the only way I could figure to survive, since he’
d never taught me.”

  Cammie hadn’t had anyone to teach her either, though her Were abilities gave her a little help in the survival department.

  “Just keep on surviving,” she advised. “That’s all we can do.”

  “But it’s different now, isn’t it?” Trista asked. “I mean, under you and Royland, the island is a different place. A place where we can live without worry, without thinking someone might try to slit our throats in the night, or worse.”

  “I’d like to think so,” Cammie replied, noticing that Lillian’s narrowed eyes were slowly losing that look of mistrust.

  They went on like this until someone shouted that they had arrived and the captain started working to set the ship down.

  Cammie excused herself and went out to get her first glimpse of the city. It was a beauty, and directly on the coast. If this was where Kristof was from, she could see why it would bring back fond memories. Of course, his family being here likely helped in that regard, though that was a concept slightly more foreign to Cammie.

  The ship started pulling around and, at first Cammie thought they were turning back. Then she saw that they were simply bringing the airships down outside the city at a spot where there were plenty of surrounding trees, so they wouldn’t be out in the open.

  “In case there are problems,” Lillian noted when she got near Cammie, as if reading her mind. “Thing is, we don’t come out this way much, and we never know what we’ll find when we do.”

  Cammie nodded, but her eyes were still glued to the city. As impractical as the thought was, she hoped to catch a glimpse of Valerie walking out to meet them. She hoped her friend had spotted them flying in, or would at least be waiting at some bar in the city with a beer in her hand.

  As of yet, however, there was no sign of her.

  She went to the other ship to let Kristof know they had arrived, but paused at the sight of Elroy staring up at her with wide, sad eyes.

  “What’re you doing out here, girl?” she asked, scratching her behind the ears before walking in.

  She found Royland and Kristof sitting side by side at the back of the room, staring out one of the portholes.

  “And if anyone gives you any crap?” Royland asked.