The vampires went their separate ways, searching in vain for Julian and Eva. Exiting the narrow side streets almost simultaneously, Christoff, Simon and Lucian found themselves in the deserted back lot of a vacant building. There, surrounded by dark forms, Eva and Julian were fighting for their lives. The silver blade of Julian’s short sword sent drops of ruby liquid splattering out in all directions as it sliced deep into flesh and bone.
The howls of pain were nearly drowned out by the shattering sound of Eva’s forty five as she fired into the frenzied creatures attacking them from all sides. Running now, Christoff grabbed a large brown wolf. Its massive head caught between his palms, the vampire twisted and pulled, ripping the bloody skull from the beast’s body with a violent jerk. Tossing the head aside, Christoff reached inside his coat and withdrew a Japanese Sai, a gift from Sonya, slicing through two more of the frenzied beasts as Simon and Lucian did the same.
In a matter of minutes the battle was over and one mangy werewolf was all that remained. It was battered and bloody, but it was still standing. As Eva and the others lined up to face the sole survivor, the creature’s body began to morph. Within seconds, the man who’d slammed into Eva on the sidewalk earlier that evening stood to face her again, red eyes blazing. The man seemed to size up the situation in seconds. Knowing he was no match for the five warriors staring him down, the newborn turned and, with a burst of unexpected speed, disappeared down the main street and into the oncoming crowd.
“No—let him go.” Julian yelled as Christoff prepared to go after the man. “Let’s see where he runs to—shall we?” and the five of them followed close on the werewolf’s heels.
“Are you okay?” Christoff asked Julian. The Dark Vampire was unaccustomed to worrying about his friend but, since Julian had become human—well, Christoff couldn’t help himself. He knew that his friend still retained much of the strength and power he had as a vampire so handling himself in a fight wasn’t a problem. But being human made Julian susceptible to a werewolf’s bite and that was a real concern—for both of them.
“I’m fine—the blood…” he said indicating his splattered clothing, “…is theirs.”
“Good—that’s the way I like it.” Then, as if he’d just remembered something important, Christoff turned to Eva, “And you?”
“Don’t worry about me, vampire—I can take care of myself.”
“Huh.” Christoff muttered under his breath. He couldn’t help but admire the she-wolf—but he didn’t have to let her know that. Julian just smiled at his friend as they continued to maneuver their way through the dense crowd.
“They could just make out the limping form of the man-wolf up ahead. “He’s headed to the Empire State Building.” Simon said.
“Or the station—Grand Central,” Eva explained when Lucian gave her a puzzled look.
As they inched their way closer, Eva saw the entrance to the station and noticed how the werewolf picked up speed as he ran through the entrance. “He’s going in—and if he’s there then the others must be as well.”
“Assuming you’re right, we proceed with extreme caution.”Julian said as they stood outside the entrance to Grand Central Station as dozens of tourist filed past them to view the historic landmark. “Remember, if the hounds are here, too, we can’t beat them in a fight. Our only chance is a snatch and grab.” he continued, “We find Rick and the others, grab them and run. Have your weapons ready—alright, let’s go.”
Christoff took the lead with Eva and Simon guarding the rear. They entered the main concourse, the station surging with activity as travelers studied the train schedules up on the billboards while they waited for the next train to arrive or leave. Julian could still see the werewolf up ahead unaware that he was being followed. He twisted and turned as he bumped into people in his rush to get wherever he was going. As they continued to follow their quarry, Christoff said, “Look—he’s going into that service elevator.”
Before the werewolf could push the button to open the doors he was joined by another man. His dated clothing and bushy mustache gave him away immediately but, if there’d been any doubt, the foul odor of death and brimstone let Eva know she’d found the man who attacked her and Shaniqua.
“Look…”she said, pointing towards the elevator, “…it’s one of them—one of those hounds that attacked me.”
Although she tried to keep her voice down the hound heard her warning cry, his yellow eyes darting to where the group now stood. Slamming his fist on the bright red button, he shoved the werewolf inside as the elevator doors swung open. Hitting the button inside, he watched with an evil grin as the doors slammed shut just as Julian and the others reached the elevator.
“You were right, Julian, he’s going to the sub basement.” Christoff said as he stared at the flashing numbers above the doors.
“And not just any sub-basement, this is the lowest part of the terminal—actually, it’s the lowest part on Manhattan Island. It’s the perfect place to hold someone captive.”
“Well, the element of surprise is gone so…” Julian started to say.
“…so we go in guns blazing and take as many of those mother fuckers out as we can.” Christoff finished for him.
“Do we have another choice?” Julian said as he pushed the red button and the doors swung open again.
Far below the Terminal the elevator door opened again to reveal a long, dark hallway. “Welcome to the New York Underground, gentleman.” Evangeline said, “This way,” she told them as she followed the corridor into the enormous room beyond.
“Hmmm, impressive,” Julian replied as they filed past a group of large converters, both old and new. “Look—there’s a steel door on the other side of the room. Something tells me that’s where our foul smelling friend went.”
“Well, there’s only one way to be sure.” Christoff said as he sprinted across the room until he was standing directly in front of the door. Leaning in close he placed an ear to the cold steel. “Nothing—complete silence.”
“Open it.” Julian ordered. As Christoff turned the knob and pulled, the others stood, weapons drawn, ready to greet anything that might be waiting for them on the other side—but there was no-one there. Lowering their weapons they filed through one by one. Just inside the door were three large stone steps leading down into a dark, damp passageway. The narrow tunnel was painted with spider-webs crisscrossing the piping that flowed along the wet ceiling.
“Nice place.”Simon whispered to Lucian.
“Just the kind of place a demon would love.” replied Christoff.
They continued on, red eyes glowing in the darkness allowing them to see in the blackness. Eva’s eyes transformed from hazel to the gold of the wolf so she wouldn’t be at a disadvantage among the vampires.
The tunnel was long and narrow and the small party was on high alert. Nerves taught and weapons ready, they expected an attack at every corner—every turn—but none came. “This is way too easy—something’s not right. Maybe they didn’t come this way after all.” Julian whispered.
“They had to…” said Christoff, “…there’s nowhere else to go once you get off the elevator. They came this way, alright. The stench of the dog is burning my nostrils.”
“Then where are they?” asked Simon.
Julian stopped, his sharp eyes peering ahead in the darkness, “My guess would be through that door.” Julian told them and all eyes turned to the massive door at the end of the passageway. Bent and broken, it was left hanging off one of two metal hinges, the top half of the door peeled back like a sardine can.
“They’re probably inside—all of them.” Christoff told the others. Julian raised his arm to check the miniature crossbow attached there. Then, pulling his Baretta from the holster inside his duster, he looked at the others. “Alright—this is it. Christoff and I will go in first—Simon, you and Lucian follow. Eva—we�
��ll keep whoever’s there to greet us busy so you can find Rick and the others. As soon as you do, get them out. Don’t stop—don’t look for us—don’t try to help us. Just get them to safety—understood?”
His blue/grey eyes locked with the Wolf Mother’s golden stare as she raised her forty-five, moving to stand near the door. Eva nodded in agreement but something in her eyes—her demeanor —told Julian she would never leave as long as one of them was in danger. With a sigh he thought to himself, Adrianna—I love you before telling Christoff to open the door—and where’s an angel when you need one?
Chapter 23
Jefferson adjusted his reading glasses and folded back the newspaper, quartering it so he could easily read the front page article on the “Heart Attack” murders. The murderer had been prolific, racking up a total of forty known victims in less than one month. The article went on to speculate that there had to be multiple perpetrators due to the sheer number and rapidity of the victims. Rumor had it that the police suspected some sort of cult or possibly home grown terrorists trying to instill panic throughout the city.
The Medical Examiner’s office was overrun with bodies, some of which had disappeared without a trace straight from the Morgue. The M.E. had been forced to request help from the F.B.I offices at Quantico.
Guardian Angel Curtis Sliwa had promised to increase patrols in the subways to protect the public, all the while chiding the police for their lack of results. Neighborhood watch groups had popped up all over the city, blue hairs with binoculars and cell phones at the ready while Mayor Bloomberg had conducted a primetime press conference asking that the citizens of New York remain calm.
Jefferson finished reading the article and, folding the paper in half, tucked it snuggly under one arm. Removing his reading glasses, he slipped them inside his shirt pocket and looked up just in time to see a tall figure round the corner and cross the threshold into the courtyard of the Dakota.
The afternoon shadows temporarily hid the man’s face but his broad shoulders and well muscled body were evident even under the long coat he was wearing. There was something vaguely familiar about the man’s stride that caused Jefferson to take a second look. Tossing the newspaper onto the bench next to him, the security guard stood up. Taking a few steps forward he prepared to greet the visitor.
The shadows parted as a single beam of sunlight fell across the man, bathing his form in the golden splendor of a fall day. Jefferson’s eyes reflected the shock he felt as he recognized the effeminate face framed by long locks of golden hair.
“Michael,” he whispered. He forced himself to move and do the job he was paid to do as security for the Dakota—and Samael. “Good—good morning, Michael,” Jefferson said very slowly as the visitor’s ice blue eyes focused directly upon him, the anger in them unmistakable. “This is an unexpected surprise. No-one told me you were dropping by today. Is there something I can help …” but the words died on his lips as the angel spoke, his words precise—deadly,
“Get out of my way, demon, or I will cast you into Hell where you belong.” Michael’s hand dropped to his side where his fingers brushed against the long tails of his coat exposing the blade of a sword.
Jefferson quickly stepped backwards, bumping into the bench behind him. The resulting jolt knocked the hat from his head and it tumbled to the ground, the sharp black brim bouncing off the sidewalk. I didn’t sign up for this, he thought to himself. I’m not equipped to deal with God’s warriors. Most of the visitors Samael received on a daily basis were no match for Jefferson but Michael—well he was another story. The Archangel was in a class all by himself.
The security guard puts his hands out in front of him, palms up, as he relinquished his station without a single act of defense. “I’ve done nothing. I’m just here to follow orders.”
The angel’s heavy soled boots slapped against the pavement as he walked past, casting a look of disdain at the guard before entering the elaborate Gothic style entrance. Reaching past the cement gargoyles, the angel grasped the boar’s head handle and pulled the heavy oak door open. Before entering, he turned back to the shaken guard one last time.
“Don’t try to warn either of my brothers that I am here or it will be the last thing you do.” Then he slipped into the building, slamming the door behind him.
Jefferson took a moment to compose himself before reaching down to retrieve his cap. He absently dusted it off before placing it back on his head. Swallowing his fear, he walked out onto the crowded sidewalk. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboros and a plastic lighter. Withdrawing a single cigarette with his plump lips, he cupped his hands against the breeze and lit up.
“Shit,” he whispered as he took a long drag, letting the smoke stream from his nostrils. He took another puff then proceeded to walk towards the crosswalk, pushing the black rubber button impatiently with a pudgy white gloved finger. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the light changed color and he crossed the busy street where he made a hasty retreat into the heavily wooded shadows of Central Park.
Back inside the building, the elevator doors swished open when it reached the top floor and Michael stepped out. He walked with purpose down the polished hallway, his ice blue eyes focused on the last door on the left. He pounded on the door with such force that the wood groaned beneath his bare knuckles. He could hear a flurry of activity inside and then a series of clicks as the locks were flipped and the door slowly opened. Ana Cumpanas poked her beautiful face around the edge of the door, her eyes wide with panic.
“Out of my way, woman,” Michael ordered and, not waiting for an invitation, he placed his large hand on the highly polished wood of the door and pushed. It swung open carrying Ana with it. The door slammed against the gilded table bearing the image of “Father Time”, chipping the marble top.
Michael released the door and crossed the threshold, walking into a heavily draped room. Candles flickered as he passed, casting their eerie light across the still forms of the Seven Deadly Sins scattered in chairs throughout the room. Now in human form, each woman recoiled in fear at the sight of the Archangel.
Michael glared in disgust at each of them. He abhorred what they stood for—they were nothing more than a blatant display of the weakness of man but, they might actually be of some use to me now, he thought as his eyes settled on a petite beauty seated near a wall of books. Lucrezia Borgia, illegitimate daughter of Pope Alexander the VI, had been the source of endless gossip in her day because of her unscrupulous behavior and insatiable desire for wealth and power.
Michael, himself, had intervened against her during the Papal scandals of Renaissance Italy and, because of this and the sinister life she led, she was damned to become the living representation of the sin of greed. At the angel’s approach, Lucrezia pulled her legs up under her, sinking back as far as she could manage into the plush antique chair on which she was seated. She was all too aware of the power he wielded against those of her kind.
Michael stopped before the chair, towering above her as he leaned forward, eyes burning with rage. “You—you vile creature—where is Samael and Lucifer?” Michael’s deep baritone voice reverberated throughout the room, paralyzing the woman with fear, making her unable to respond to his question. “Answer me now and I will forget I ever laid eyes on you this day. Remain silent and you will know the full wrath of my anger.” But the demon’s fear was all consuming as she continued to stare in silence at the angel. “I have no time for this!” Michael shouted as he slammed his fist onto the antique table next to Lucrezia, smashing it to pieces. “Your silence has sealed your fate.”
The angel rose to his full height, turning his icy gaze on each one of the sins. He raised his eyes upwards as he spread his arms out into a wide arch. The room began to shake, the plaster walls splintered and cracked as a ball of white light appeared in each of Michael’s open palms. A terrible heat spread its dead
ly warmth around the room as the women/sins shrieked in terror and pain.
Ana, still imprisoned behind the door, freed herself and, swallowing her fear, bolted across the room to fall on her knees at Michael’s feet. “Mercy—mercy, Avenger—please!”
“It’s too late—I have no sympathy for the likes of you,” the angel responded.
“No—wait!” Ana begged and, jumping to her feet, she ran across the room and through a hidden doorway.
Michael extinguished the white hot flames as he listened to Ana’s muffled pleas of desperation until a monotone male voice abruptly cut her off. After a few seconds of silence, the door opened with a squeak and Samael entered the room, his pale white complexion shimmering in the shadows, a white china coffee mug held loosely in his hand.
He walked over to face Michael, curious at the interruption. He stopped directly in front of his much larger counterpart, raising the delicate cup to his lips as he sipped at the scalding liquid it contained. Replacing the petite cup onto the saucer with a clink, he slid his rose colored glasses down onto the bridge of his nose with a long boney finger and stared at Michael with dark, brooding eyes.
“You know, brother, you are the second one to barge into my home unannounced and disrupt my business. I have things to do—places to go and these interruptions are inconvenient, to say the least.” Samael’s words were laced with contempt for his fellow angel. His dark eyes fell upon the shattered table as he took another sip of coffee. “You know that table was one of a kind. Tell me, brother, do you always go into other people’s homes and destroy things that are not yours?”
“Don’t toy with me, Samael, or I’ll…” Michael began, clutching his hands into fists.
“Or you’ll what, brother, smite me? Really—I don’t think so. You may be the Hand of God but I am His Venom. We both serve Him—just in different ways. He has a need for me so I don’t think He’d be happy if you destroyed His reaper of souls. After all, it was I who cleaned up after you, Avenger, or have you already forgotten? My quota of souls far exceeded its limit last year after the whole Dragone affair. You and your guardians of the human race, among other entities, were out of control. We have rules, brother that even you must follow!” raged Samael.
A Soul in Torment Page 45
