by ST Branton
“Hmm.” I stepped back for a second to think, tuning out the rising din around me.
Frank had stepped in to break up a shouting match. Jules was comforting the mother with the twins. The immediate scene was, to all appearances, giving way to chaos. How could we carve out some order?
“Well, I still think there’s a good chance it’s a trap and we’re all going to be marching into certain death, or at least captivity. But Deacon couldn’t say beyond a shadow of a doubt that the agent on the news wasn’t the real deal, so it could be an opportunity we’d miss if we didn’t go. What I’m stuck on is if the chance of success is worth the risk of failure.”
Let us start with this: what do you want to do?
“I want to get the hell out of Dodge. I know Beleza isn’t messing around. He’s landscaping the city, and he’ll be here eventually. But I don’t want to skip town entirely, and I don’t want to leave this group to fend for themselves. I can’t.” Maya would never forgive me, but more than that, I’d never forgive myself. “There are a lot of children here, Marcus. They’ve got a snowball’s chance in Hell without us.”
I cannot fault you for that assessment, Victoria. Marcus hesitated, choosing his words carefully. And though I find your convictions more than laudable, my original advice remains the same. You are the world’s greatest asset in this fight. We can lose a battle without losing the war, but if we lost you, the war would be over.
I shook my head vigorously. “No, Marcus. I understand where you’re coming from, but no. I’ll repeat this a thousand times if I need to. I can’t leave. I can’t.” I didn’t like disagreeing with Marcus on such a key point. I also knew we were never going to see eye to eye in this case.
I know you cannot. I respect your valor. Therefore, if you would like to save as many lives as possible before you leave, I recommend we go to this square garden. If others have already begun to congregate there, then it is your best opportunity to round up the greatest number. That being said, I agree it is likely to be a trap of some kind. Tahn is clever and cunning, and she cares not for the lives she destroys. I would not put it past her to devise a scheme of this magnitude.
“Shit.” I paced like a tiger in a cage, rubbing my temples. The pressure threatened to weigh me down. Falling into a trap set by the gods would be devastating in more ways than one, and yet, the idea of leaving New York behind was equally unfathomable. “Think, Vic, think! Where’s the middle ground here?”
Deacon slipped up next to me. “Can I help?”
“Maybe,” I responded. “Where’s your friend with the car and the smokes? If he wanted to show his face, now would be a really great time.”
He shrugged. “If I had access to a resource like that whenever I wanted, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Damn it.” I balled my hands into tight fists and released them, stretching my fingers. “Is this ever going to get any fucking easier?”
“Probably not.” Deacon laid his hand on my shoulder. “But you’re getting stronger, and that’s almost the same thing.”
Surprised, I picked my head up, locking eyes with him. A vague smile tilted his lip. Some of the tension accumulating behind my neck and shoulders ebbed away, and I found myself able to smile back. “Thanks, Deacon. I needed to hear that.”
“We all do, some days. I stand by what I said back in the street, Vic. I’m with you, and I’ll be here till we reach the end of this, whatever that looks like. Do what you already know is best. I’m guessing you actually made your mind up a while ago. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
I could have expressed a similar sentiment. I suspect, however, that it would not have had the same effect. For a number of reasons.
I hoped Marcus could feel me telling him to shut the hell up. And Deacon was right. Since the beginning of this whole mess, I had known there was only one strategy that would let me sleep at night.
“Okay, here’s what we do,” I said.
Deacon put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the sound sailing high above the background hubbub of talking, arguing, and crying. An immediate silence crashed down.
“Here’s what we do,” I said again, looking askance at him. “We can’t afford to assume it’s a trap. I won’t be responsible for so many lives lost.” A few of the refugees in the front began to shout in protest. I held up my hands. “If anything seems even the least bit screwy, we’ll tell you, I swear. Our team’s been through a lot. Between us, we will be able to tell if something isn’t right.”
From the side, Jules nodded encouragingly. Maya wiped a tear from her cheek and grinned at me. “Thank you,” she said, so quietly I barely heard her.
“Can I ask you a question, Vicky?” The guy who stepped forward was lean and scrappy, clad in a pair of ripped jeans and a well-worn leather jacket. Patchy stubble colored his jawline. From a distance, I might have assumed he was a satyr. He matched their overall look to a T.
“It’s Vic, but sure.”
“Right. Sorry.” He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops, appraising me with a keen, angular face. “Vic, how many people you think managed to get away before us? What kind of odds are stacked against us here?” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m comin’ with you no matter what you say. I’d just like to know exactly how stupid we have to be to survive.”
“What kind of fucked-up question is that?” the guy behind him demanded. “Where are your parents, you little shit? This is hard enough without your ass getting all theoretical on us.” The second man grabbed the first by the upper arm and yanked him backward. “You open your mouth again, and I’ll whoop you, punk.”
I kept my phrasing as delicate as possible. “It’s hard to say right now. The streets are pretty empty, so I have to assume a large percentage made it out in the initial rush. If not, they’re hiding out somewhere, like us.”
“Or they’re dead,” Maya said. A bunch of heads swiveled to look at her. She bit her tongue.
“I’m not so sure,” said Deacon. “If everyone was dead, we’d be seeing bodies all over the place, which hasn’t happened. The highways are likely backed up straight to hell, but at least everyone’s out there instead of in here.” He beckoned to me. “I think it’s about time we head out. You ready?”
“Yeah. As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
Maya pushed through to get in front of us. “Guys, do we know what’s happening once we get there? Who are we going to talk to?”
“They’ve got to have some kind of intake system in operation, Maya. It might be unnecessary and tedious, but they have to be doing something already.”
“That’s not what I meant. Does anyone in the government know what’s actually going on? Let’s say this isn’t a trap. We know it could be, but no one else does, and things like this might be occurring all over the country, all over the world right now. We need to start getting the truth out.” Maya the wolf girl is wise. It will not be enough to fight battles as they happen, since you are only one person who can be in only one place at a time. The moment has come to enlighten the realm about the gods, that the ensuing resistance may bring peace back to your world.
“Easier said than done,” I answered. “Like you just told me, I’m only one person. How do we put this on a global scale?”
“Well…” Jules gestured at the television behind me, on which Steve Stephenson was in the middle of giving another bleak report. He stared stoically into his camera, a man trying his best to stay on the job. “That seems to be working for him.”
“Yes!” Maya brightened. “If we can get on TV, we might be able to reach Smitty and Amber even if calling won’t work. I’m sure they’re monitoring the news.”
Everything about it seemed to me like the longest shot I was ever going to take, but any shred of hope was better than none. “You know what? Let’s do it.” Maya erupted in a cheer, which helped my heart immensely. “Hey, Deacon, will you do me a favor and ask Trent if the hallways are clear down to the first floor? I’d do
it myself, but I think he’s pissed at me.”
Deacon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what his problem is, but he’d better get over it fast. We don’t have room for that type of pettiness.” He turned around toward the last place Trent had been standing. “Dammit, where’d that asshole run off to now? This is not cool, Trent!”
I left him to his aggravated search and used the time to begin organizing our group for departure. Spotting some wayward kids, I glanced around for Frank. At first, he too was missing. Then a thunderous roar slammed into my ears, and I caught the edge of a large, dark, Frank-shaped blur streaking toward the door.
“Traitor!” Frank screamed. “You damned dirty traitor!”
Chapter Sixteen
The refugees scattered in the wake of Frank’s furious charge, alarmed and skittish. He barreled into the wall so hard that a puff of plaster dust settled on the back and shoulders of his tattered jacket. He hunched forward over the wall, his head held threateningly low. His hat lay lopsided on the floor where it had fallen.
“Frank!” I darted forward. “What the hell are you—” A burst of anger swelled in my chest, but it froze as soon as I saw what he had in his vicelike grip: the front of Trent’s shirt. Trent was pinned high on the wall, feet dangling a few inches off the floor, shallow cracks radiating out from the point of impact. He pulled at Frank’s wrists, but the effort was useless.
“Call this damn dog off!” he croaked. One leg kicked out, aiming for the mobster’s shins. “He’s gonna kill me.” Trent’s face was slowly turning red from the strain of trying to pull air through his severely restricted windpipe.
“You’d be lucky if I did,” growled Frank. He adjusted his grip.
“Let him down,” I said. “Damn it to hell, Frank. I told you, no vamp shit.”
“This slimeball was trying to sneak out.” Frank released Trent’s shirt, and the man crumpled to the floor, clutching his throat. “Aw, don’t be such a sissy. I coulda hurt ya a lot worse, kid.” Frank turned to me. “Listen, Vic. I know a rat when I smell one. I know because I was one. I’ve lived with ‘em. And this asshole stinks to high heaven.”
“Oh, really?” I approached the spot where Trent half lay on the floor, struggling to regain his composure. He no longer looked like the confident, cocksure bastard I had grown to know and tolerate for Deacon’s sake. His expression roiled with disdain and a tinge of fear.
“You can’t prove anything,” he hissed.
“Are you saying there’s something to prove?” Deacon stepped up past me, closing the distance between himself and his ex-partner in one stride. He stood over Trent, stone-cold, impassive. “I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you this shit, brother. We don’t have time for this. But you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, so I suggest you start now.”
Trent blanched. He might as well have been a different person when he was cowering. His right eye developed a weird, squirrelly twitch. “Look, Deac—Deacon. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way, all right? This isn’t what I wanted either.”
“What isn’t?” Deacon gave the other man a critical onceover, which stopped dead when a short burst of static erupted from Trent’s pocket. Lifting his foot, Deacon nudged the pocket with the toe of his boot. “You want to talk about this, Trent? I think it would be in your best interest.”
“I was going to tell you,” Trent answered quickly. “The second we got outside. They weren’t going to hurt anyone. I told them not to.”
“Wait.” My ears had perked up. “Who’s ‘they’?”
Deacon knelt and swiftly loosed a hidden two-way radio from Trent’s belt. Another burst of static issued from the speaker, followed by a voice. “What’s going on over there? We’re moving in.”
“What? Who is that?” On instinct, I reached for my sword hilt.
“Looks like someone called the cops,” Deacon said. “That’s not good.”
“They might not be human,” Frank said with a grunt. “I saw a lot of ‘em who’d turned out to be freaks, like me. We gotta be careful.”
Make ready, Victoria. It seems like we are in for an invigorating skirmish. His old familiar battle glee shone through a little bit. I tried to harness some of it for myself, just to calm the nervous adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins. The hilt of the Gladius Solis carried a reassuring weight in my hand. I used that weight to center myself.
“Why’d you do it, man?” Deacon asked Trent as he patted down the rest of him. He removed a slick black handgun from a holster on the opposite side of the radio and deftly checked it for ammunition. “If you didn’t want to help, all you had to do was say so. How hard would that have been?” He kept his tone light, but there was an edge beneath his words.
“I told you the truth, Deacon. I didn’t plan for this.” Trent straightened his back against the wall, loosening the collar of his shirt. “When you called me, I was more than willing to come help you out. We were tight once. I haven’t forgotten.”
Deacon stood over him. “What was it that changed your mind? I can’t wait to hear this garbage.”
Trent’s mouth twisted into a grimace. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, which was still discolored from Frank’s unabashed throttling. “Are you kidding? You rolled up with America’s Most Wanted.” He glared daggers at me. “I’ll admit it took me longer than it should have to recognize you, given that your face was plastered all over the airwaves after you shanked the mayor with that thing. But then you whipped out the sword, and I knew.”
I clenched my teeth. “Why not confront me in the park? You had to wait until speaking up would ruin the maximum number of lives?” My anger at Frank had done an about-face. It was all directed at this jackass now, and it was growing. “What do you think is going to happen now that you’ve given our position away? You know law enforcement is compromised, but you threw us to the wolves.”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” Trent retorted. “You should know. You’re desperate enough to be working with a monster.”
Frank bristled and bared his teeth, not exactly helping his case. “Screw off, buddy.”
“I’d love to.” Trent braced one hand against the floor and struggled to get to his feet. “Sorry, Deacon. We had some great times, and I still think you’re a solid dude, but I can’t abide by whatever you’ve gotten yourself into this time. Running around with a freakshow and a murderer? I thought you had more sense than that.”
“And I thought you’d get it, Trent.” Deacon sighed. “I’m sorry, too—that I was so wrong about you. You’re on the wrong side of history. I hope you know that.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side except my own.” On his feet at last, Trent tugged at his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and picked up the sunglasses that had landed nearby. “It’s the only way to get by, even when the world isn’t royally fucked.”
“Tell me one thing.” Deacon looked toward the window. “How much time do we have?”
“Before the cops get here?” Trent shrugged. “Couldn’t give you an exact time. Five minutes, maybe less. They were pretty… enthusiastic about getting the call.” He went to the window and pulled the blankets away. “If you really intend to shovel kids down this fire escape, you better start soon.”
“Doesn’t sound like you plan on coming with us.” My grip tightened on my sword, though I kept it tucked away for the moment. “Where do you think you’re going instead?”
Trent laughed. “Who cares? Anywhere other than this hellhole. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be a distant memory. Don’t worry. I don’t want anything to do with this shit.” He paused, still holding a blanket in one hand. A look of genuine sincerity crossed his face, betraying the ghost of long-held concern. “I’m serious, St. Clair. What kind of hot water are you drowning in this time?”
“It’s none of your business anymore.” Deacon pocketed Trent’s gun. “By the way, I’m keeping this. Call it federal confiscation.”
“I’ll call it a gift.” Trent tossed the bl
anket. Some of the refugees broke out of their shock to scramble for it. “Something to remember me by.”
“Guys!” Maya cried urgently. “What the hell is going on? We have to go!”
Deacon and I both snapped instantly out of our laser focus on Trent.
“She’s right. We’re wasting time.” I turned back toward the door. “There’s no way we’re getting everyone out the fire escape on a deadline. Let’s go through the hall.”
“Is it clear?” Deacon asked.
Again, Trent shrugged. “It was when I checked, but I confess, I didn’t check that closely. Too busy doing my civic duty vis-à-vis reporting fugitives to the proper authorities.” The smarm I hated so much was back, even stronger than before.
I groaned. “You’re such a piece of shit. Come on, Deacon.” As I started to step toward the apartment door, ushering the group along with me, I noticed something strange in the newly exposed windowpane. It looked like a streak of tinted light.
The next instant seemed to pass in slow motion. Out of the corner off my eye, I saw a familiar radial pattern spider across the glass, mirroring the cracks that Trent’s body had made in the wall by the door. I knew on sight what those cracks meant, but my brain took an extra fraction of a second to process what I was seeing. By the time I understood, the pane was bulging out of the frame.
The sound of it shattering brought me back to real time. I gasped and threw myself prone. Screams pierced the air around me. Shards of glass sprayed across the floor. Little clouds of dust and debris marked the spots where the bullets continued to fall. Cautiously, I lifted my head just enough to take stock of the situation. The first thing I saw was Trent slumped over, his eyes fixed and staring. A pool of blood spread slowly but steadily around his head.
My chest tightened. We’d stayed here far too long. “Move!” I shouted. “Stay low! Don’t flip out, and don’t crowd the door!”
