by S. L. Eaves
He offers a nod; Quinn continues, “Any update on the cameras? They find us in their system yet?”
“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time, I’m going to have to switch to the live feed.”
“Go for it; we’ve got a decent head start.”
“So did you at least secure any of the intel were are supposed to recover?” Rex asks, not looking away from the laptop resting on the passenger seat.
Quinn taps my shoulder. “This is way better than anything I could have pulled off their computers, trust me.”
Rex gives a disgruntled huff.
“Well, welcome, Lori; there’s blood in the back, you look like you need it.”
“Thanks. Who’s Nicholas?”
Rex shifts gears and we start putting even more distance between us and that gruesome compound.
“Another vamp we thought they’d detained. Your cell was the only one occupied. I don’t suppose you know of any they had inside?”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
“We couldn’t find him on the camera feeds, so I wasn’t optimistic.” Quinn hands me a couple bags from a cooler in the trunk. I waste no time sucking them dry.
“That’s all we have on us, but it should hold you till we get home.”
“Where is home?”
“An apartment building in Fairbanks. We have a two story penthouse.”
“The two of you? Or a bigger ‘we’?”
I sit up and check to see if the blood helped as much as I’m hoping, but there’s still some pretty bad wounds showing.
Quinn leans over, folds her arms across the top of the seat, and rests her head in them.
“I am going to tell you, but you may not like the answer. In which case I am prefacing this with an ‘I totally understand if after you hear my story you want me to pull over and we can part ways.’ I’ll get it, no harm done, but I ask that you hear me out.”
“Okay…well, you just saved me, so I consider that request more than fair.”
“I am returning a favor. Remember Amsterdam? And I suppose there were a few times in New York I can maybe give you credit for having my back. If I’m feeling generous.”
“Gee, thanks, but still…”
“Well, good then. I’ll start with that warehouse explosion in Jersey.”
“Please do. I’m not entirely convinced that I haven’t crossed over. For all I know, I could be talking to an apparition right now.”
Quinn smiles. “I assure you, we’re not ghosts. This is happening. Now I love Dade, he’s a great guy, but let’s face it, he’s not the brightest crayon in the box. And when those explosions hit, I had no clue if he even survived until much later. Heard about you guys taking out Striden and Deacon; that was a big check in the win column. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“We were sorry too.”
Quinn hands me a first aid kit and I laugh when I open up the little box: a bottle of alcohol and a knife for digging out bullets. There isn’t much blood can’t heal for our kind, but it can’t dissolve bullets. Judging by the gaping hole in my back I am pretty damn sure the bullet went clear through. Maybe even knocked out a couple that had landed in there previously.
“I assume you’ve heard about Trent by now, too.”
I find a bullet lodged in the back of my arm and put the knife to work.
“Yeah…” Quinn’s tone is solemn. “Few men get to die saving someone…he went out a true hero. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him, regret not being nicer, all the teasing and flirting…he wasn’t really my type, but immortality…you just think you’re going to have so much more time to figure those sorts of things out…but you don’t, not in our line of work.”
“No, you really don’t.”
“…I never got to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Catch. That was a huge loss. He was a great fighter. He went out doing what he loved.”
“No, he didn’t. He died distracted. He was doing fine, then I fell off the roof and he dropped everything to pull me up. He lost focus and the wolves saw a rare opportunity to take him out with his back turned. He died a hero, sure, but it was me that should have fallen that night.”
“These things happen in the heat of the moment. You would have done the same for him. He knew that. He died being true to himself; saving you, saving us—is what kept him moving forward. And you took up his fight and made it your own. That’s the honorable thing to do. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”
“I’m half the warrior he was. Hell, I just got a bunch of men killed not twenty-four hours ago.”
“Yeah, well, I never said you were good in the field. Just trying to squash this pity party you’re throwing.” Quinn smirks, taps my shoulder.
“So about you and Dade and the warehouse—”
“Right, so when I came to I was in bad shape. Burns and shrapnel from the blast; it wasn’t pretty. I couldn’t walk. When a crew came to clean up the wreckage I had to play dead till they got close enough…then I was able to restore my body to a functioning state. It took a while to recover fully.”
I opened the bottle of alcohol and gave it a sniff. Whoa.
“Moonshine?”
“I dunno, it came with the car. Hey Rex, is this your booze?”
“There’s been booze back there the whole time? Damn. Pass it around,” he calls back.
I take a swig of what I figure has got to be either moonshine or just flat-out rubbing alcohol. It doesn’t much matter since it all tastes like water, but it burns my throat going down.
Quinn continues, “So like I said, I didn’t know initially if Dade had survived. My memory was pretty fuzzy, but I remembered last seeing him at the other end of the warehouse so I figured there was a chance. And I don’t resent him for not hanging around to see if I made it; I’m sure it looked bad. I wish I had found a way to reach out to Trent before everything went down. I can’t help but feel things might have been different for him if he knew I was still alive. Or well, you know, undead.”
I think about Marcus. I didn’t see what went down when he and Trent were at the lab. Marcus was the stronger vampire, so his survival over Trent’s didn’t necessarily mean Trent’s death was his fault. I like to think he truly did not mean for Trent to die that night, but way I figure it, Marcus expected a few of us to go down swinging and he was okay with that sacrifice. I was not. Which is one of many reasons I am not at the mansion with him now.
I hand Quinn the bottle. “We both know he was reckless, daring, and headstrong. Immortality didn’t suit him. He tested the limits of vampirism every chance he got. I miss him, don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy and not hard on the eyes, but he was nothing short of a liability.”
“True,” Quinn consents.
“I’m thrilled you survived, though. It’s good to see a familiar face. Speaking of which…” I wait for her to pick up the cue, but she remains silent. “Who are you working with?”
After a long pause, she relents. “Vega, Lori. We are going to Vega’s place.”
“Oh.”
Quinn hands the bottle back. It’s strong alcohol and it warms my body, but it would take a hundred times this much to get me buzzed enough to want to face Vega again.
“I know he’s not your favorite person, but he sent me to pull you out of that compound, so I mean, like I said, we’ll drop you off somewhere in Fairbanks if you prefer, but for what it’s worth, I think you should hear him out.”
I sit up and stare out the window at the frozen tundra bathed in moonlight. Vega’s men beat me to a pulp after they witnessed me stake a vampire from their clan. Catch and I cornered a vampire we knew to be working with werewolves. When the confrontation escalated, I panicked when he got the upper hand on Catch and drove a stake through the traitor’s heart.
It was impulsive and killing our own kind is a death sentence, but the circumstances gave me reprieve. Marcus actually bailed me out of that one. But not before Vega’s men left me unrecognizable.
Vega stopped them from k
illing me though, so you’d think I’d be grateful. However, in our brief time together he showed me what it was to be a coward. To hide in the shadows and let others die for a cause which you should be leading, and then defend your inaction with some philosophy on pacifism.
He basically blew the whole war off as a childish feud while looking down his nose at our sacrifices. I was not keen on the war myself; I was in over my head and fairly indifferent on the outcome until I saw my insolence through his eyes. When we parted ways I wanted nothing more than to fight, if only to defy him. And what we did—it ended up stopping an outbreak, a full-on werewolf pandemic. We made him eat his words. I wonder if he’s had a change of heart. And I have to admit, thinking back on some of the things he said—his warnings about trusting motives—he wasn’t entirely off base.
“Yeah, okay, I certainly have a few questions and I guess I’m in his debt after this. Fuck. Jesus. How did you end up in league with him?”
“Remember when we first met? On our trip into Amsterdam you asked who turned me and I said I didn’t know, which is true, but it was Vega who brought me in. He was like a father to me for years. I was planning to return to England and meet up with you guys, but he found me while I was recovering in New Jersey and helped me return to my former self. He can fill you in on the details, but he’s been keeping a close eye on this organization in the States that’s been up to some pretty wild experiments. I agreed to help for a little; seemed like it might be fun.”
“Fun…you would find this fun.”
“Yeah well, I didn’t say I was right.”
“You said Vega sent you to rescue me. How did he even know I was here? What does he know about this whole operation?”
“He sent us to rescue Nicholas, but he suspected we might find you up here too…so of course I jumped at the chance for a surprise reunion,” Quinn jokes. “But seriously, he wants to bring you up to speed himself.”
“Yeah, I bet he does. Okay, well, I get it. And I don’t hold it against you for aligning with him. Frankly, I’m rather surprised; it’s not like him to get involved in these sorts of situations.”
“Vega is a tough guy to like. Even I can’t say I trust him. I just go where the action takes me.”
“I second Quinn’s sentiment,” Rex adds, “but he hasn’t let me down yet. Can’t say he’s given me a reason not to trust him, either.”
“Fair enough. Can you at least tell me how pulling me out from the trenches furthers his interests?”
Quinn is silent for a minute, then asks, “Is it true what they say about you being clairvoyant?”
“That’s it, isn’t it? He wants access to my…insights.”
Quinn shrugs.
“So it is true then?”
“Sorta…I dunno…not really…”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I can pick up energies and see things that have happened or are happening…it presents itself as telepathy on occasion. Precognition on others. And more often than not, as nothing at all. I can’t control what I see or when I see it, which really makes for a lame ability.”
“Not going to be picking winning lottery numbers any time soon, then?”
“Ha, no. But I can’t say I haven’t tried. Not with lottery numbers, but with other things like hunting wolves.”
“And you haven’t had any success?”
“Let’s just say I’m a work in progress. Adrian thought I’d see how the war would end. Or, maybe more vaguely, he thought I’d see answers. I saw glimpses of things in battle and I saw something that made me question everything, but answers continue to elude me. And I am not the answer to anything, Quinn. That is one thing I am sure of.”
“The Purebloods put a lot of faith in the legends. I get it. It’s mostly just whispers in the darkness of powers and theologies. I personally don’t put much stake in it. No pun intended,” she smiles. “They feed off folklore. We all need something to believe in.”
“No contesting that. I just don’t want people believing in me.”
“Aw, come on, I believe in your ability to need bailing out on a regular basis. Getting in over our heads is one thing we have in common. Believe that.”
She pats my shoulder and eyes the empty bottle of booze.
“We’ll be there soon. And we’ll get you patched up proper.”
Chapter 6
“Hey boss, we have a problem here.” The security guard looks from one screen to the next in a small room lit by monitor screens.
The radio beeps in, “What?”
“Just get Brixton to the control room ASAP,” the guard responds into his handheld.
“What is it?” Brixton enters a minute later.
“It’s the vampire; she’s not in her cell.” The guard points at the empty, bloodstained cell block on the screen.
“She can’t just vanish. She’s a vampire, not a ghost. Did she die? Rewind the tape,” Brixton orders, frustrated.
The guard obliges and she turns to the guard at the door behind her.
“Send a couple men down to check it out. Be prepared; it could be a trick.”
Brixton mumbles to herself, “Freakin’ vampires.”
“You were seeing her on here before, right? They can be captured on camera.”
“Affirmative. No reflection, no shadow, but definitely shows up on film—err, well, digital recordings in this case.” The guard pauses the feed at a point where Lori is lying on the cement bench.
“There she is, this is right after your meeting with her.” He points at the bottom of the screen. “See the time stamp?”
“Okay, advance it to present time.”
The guard slowly advances the camera feed. Suddenly she disappears.
“There. See?”
“Damn. Frame by frame.”
He obliges.
“Nothing, boss, no sign of her getting up or exploding into dust like the others.”
“Fuck!”
The radio beeps and Brixton takes it from her belt clip.
“Yes?”
“She’s not in the cell, boss. No dust piles either. The door was still locked, but it looks like a couple of the bars are bent.”
“Switch to the live feed.” Brixton gestures at the guard, who clicks a button and brings up an image of three men walking around the cell.
“Sweep the area; in her state, she could not have made it very far. Not without help, at least.”
She lowers the radio and points at the screens.
“I want you to pull the feed from every camera we have on that floor. There are what, three or four down there? Let’s see if they can tell us anything.”
Into her radio: “Find Owen and bring him to me.”
“If she had help, he might know who.” She shakes her head and peers over the guard’s shoulder.
“Are these six monitors capturing every single camera feed in this entire compound?”
“Yes, boss; they can’t display them all at once, obviously, but everything is being recorded and displays intermittently switching from feed to feed every twenty seconds. We can capture footage from nearly every section of the complex.”
“Hmm…maybe I should get more eyes up here, and monitors. We can’t have this type of thing happening.”
Her radio beeps, “We found some blood in the hall, boss.”
“Alright, I’m coming down there.”
Brixton exits hastily and bumps into Owen.
“You called for me, boss?”
“Lori’s escaped.”
“What?! How?”
“That’s what we are trying to determine.”
Brixton grabs his arm. “You said they wouldn’t send men out here. That this mission was classified as covert and off the grid. Was there anyone at your bunker? Someone who stayed back you didn’t want to tell me about? Or a secondary unit in place up here?”
Owen shakes his head adamantly, “No. There was no backup, there is no backup. No contingency plan. This mission failed;
only Abrams would know and he would not risk sending more men. He presumes us all dead and will be left scratching his head trying to find another way to infiltrate this compound. If you had let me ‘live,’” he gestures with air quotes, “I could have returned to the base and reported in. I’d still be working for Abrams and have eyes on the inside.”
“Too big a risk. I need you here. Maybe that would have been the smart play, but now with Lori out, it’s definitely better you’re here and not at the agency, because you can assume that if she hasn’t told Abrams by now it will certainly be on top of her ‘to-do’ list.”
Brixton and Owen descend the stairs to the basement level.
Owen grabs Brixton by the shoulder. “Did you remove the tracking device?”
“Of course we did,” Brixton nods. “Destroyed it like we did yours and the others. Everything went into the incinerator.”
“Even the backup?”
“Yes. We removed two.”
“Okay, good.”
They approach the guards scouring the scene, checking for footprints and blood stains.
“We found a couple drops here and a few more around the corner.” The guard leads Brixton and Owen to the last trace of blood.
Another guard emerges from the door a few yards down.
“Hey boss, something you should see.”
They go to the door and peer inside the storage room: debris from the explosion. The guard finishes pushing the cabinet aside to reveal a hole several feet wide leading into a tunnel. Brixton runs her finger along the jagged cinder blocks and when she lifts it up it drips with fresh blood.
“Seems she had help,” Brixton glares at Owen.
“I made sure the DIA didn’t know about this tunnel. It had to come from someone else,” he insists.
Brixton slams her fist into the wall and shoves a guard out of her way as she blows past.
“Find her! Take the wolf. Track her, find her, and bring her back to me.”
Owen starts after her down the hall. “The wolf is still being tested; we don’t know if he’s ready.”
Brixton spins on her heels. “Then you go with it. Take him into the tunnel; take an extra man if you need to. Take a goddamn sled and rig him to it for all I care. She was badly injured; even with help she couldn’t have made it very far in this short a timeframe. We’re miles from civilization. And Owen, I want her back intact, if possible.”
