by HK Savage
Soon her worries were forced out by the demands of tight streets, too many cars, and slow moving pedestrians. Whether they really were slow was debatable, but to Gabrielle, eager to return to the command center inundated by possible sightings captured by satellite imagery and chatter that might again mention her foe, they were positive sloths.
“Move,” she muttered, maneuvering the rented Volvo around a double-parked truck then back into its lane before an oncoming motorist, frantically flashing his lights, was upon her. Her eyes darted from one dark house front to the next, constantly reading numbers and reciting street addresses to keep her brain busy. Amidst blaring horns and waving fists, she shot across two lanes and zipped into a small spot, exactly why she’d taken the smaller model versus her preferred luxury sedan, and jammed a heeled boot down engaging the parking brake with decided finality. Running a hand through her blonde hair to gather it behind her back and off her heated neck, she pushed the button to silence the engine.
Letting out a breath, she stared at the third story apartment where a single light glowed. The rest of the units either were dark or brightly illuminated; Kenneth’s unit seemed to be undecided whether it should hide the monstrosity within or announce its presence with a spotlight. She ignored the tremor that rattled down her spine. Gabrielle remembered Kenneth when he came into the unit about the time Saigon fell, turned by Black himself after his talents had been discovered. It was memories of those first attempted missions after his conversion from witch to vampire that made her want to start the car and get the hell out of there. She was already entertaining the notion of saying their Intel was bad, that she couldn’t find him. Or maybe going up there and putting a chair leg through his chest and parking his frozen body where the sun would find him so they could be done with him. Except that wouldn’t work. Not with the admiral.
He would know. The same way he knew Michael couldn’t be trusted to bring in the competition, or that Ryan wasn’t in a state to manage a half-mad vampire witch.
“Lucky me,” Gabrielle rolled her eyes at her superior reputation. “I’ve become the dependable one.” The less caustic, more pragmatic side of her recognized the impending crisis a rift between Admiral Black and Michael posed. If nothing else, it meant more face time for her with the icy bastard and she, for one, did not want that. The only reason she’d joined up with him was the opportunity the resources he offered for tracking her enemy. The one being on this planet she wanted to see dead with every fiber of her being. The one responsible for the deaths of her entire unit and her altered nature. The one who’d killed Luc. He was a ghost, the only trail left were whispers of a name. “The Unitarian.” And the bodies. Not so gentle reminders he was not one to suffer fools or competition.
She had to stay focused on the here and now to keep her mind clear, unlike the others who let their feelings get in the way. The human’s presence had shaken everything up and Gabrielle didn’t like things to be uncertain. At first she’d resented the woman for it. That might have dissipated, some sense of companionship had developed, but she continued to threaten the status quo.
Becca was fine as humans went, not that Gabrielle would admit it, but she kind of respected her. Liked her even. But if she was the cause of a spat between the admiral and his second, thereby inconveniencing her and her plans for coming at the monster responsible for her personal vendetta against the supernatural world, then that was a problem. A problem that landed squarely on bony human shoulders. Whatever the deal between Captain Rossi and his woman, they had better fix it to the admiral’s liking and quick, before it ruined things for everyone.
An odd squeal reached her ears, too faint to reach a human. Gabrielle was out of the car and up the first flight of stairs before she could consider another option. Black leather clad hand hovering over the gun in her shoulder holster, hidden under her light black leather jacket, she turned the corner and jogged lightly up to the second then third flight of stairs, hesitating at the fire door. Listening for several long moments, she ascertained there was nothing too dangerous afoot and walked into the hall.
Gabrielle didn’t bother trying to hide the tapping of her heels on the pale marble tile. Padding past a decorative topiary stuffed into a Greek style urn, she afforded herself a quick look in the mirror above it. Lack of sleep from a night of flying made her pale in the bright hall light. Weeks of the same caused by a heavy heart accentuated the start of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.I look old. The thought didn’t depress her the way it might another woman.
A werewolf, Gabrielle aged much slower than her human counterparts. Her lifetime would span several of those she would naturally have lived. No, age wasn’t something she feared. Pain, the kind that found her in her dreams. Torment brought on by the screams she imagined came from her friends and lover as shrapnel tore them to pieces while she and the resident medic had been blissfully unaware on a supply run. Images of the pieces she and the medic buried, what was left of their friends, in the desert with their own hands. Those were things to fear. Wrinkles, bags under her eyes, even a little middle-aged spread in her hips was nothing.
The high-pitched sound, not quite human, yet undeniably so, penetrated her thoughts and Gabrielle strode briskly to the door she knew from the file. The familiar smell emanating from under it, as well as the sounds were too faint to be sensed by humans, but she knew who was responsible. Her charge. Politely, she knocked. The tortured sounds from within stopped though she thought she heard a muffled sobbing. Hearing no movement toward the door, she knocked again.
“Fuck off.”
Her lips curled of their own accord. Something about the fact that he was still the same asshole amused her. “Open the door, Kenneth.”
There was silence for a full count of ten before footsteps deliberately approached the other side of the steel door. Several metal cylinders slid open. Well-oiled hinges made no sound as the barrier between them was removed and Gabrielle looked upon her former unit member for the first time in at least two and a half decades.
“Shit sticks.” Kenneth’s kinky cocoa brown hair stuck out wildly, he’d grown it out a few inches after heading in-country. Taking her in in a slow, deliberate, and not very happy look, he pushed his locks off his forehead with a long, elegant, caramel colored hand. Pale green eyes regarded her without warmth.
“Kenneth.” Gabrielle’s tone was infused with about as much joy as his. Back in the day, they had not been best friends. She saw him as a wild card then, and after what she could smell in his loft, she would not be changing her opinion on his mental stability.
The two regarded each other for several long awkward moments before finally, stepping back, he silently invited her in. Breezing past him into the open industrial style loft, Gabrielle pretended not to be fazed by the heavy scent of blood and urine that assailed her as she entered. The door closed, locks were reengaged, and she was left facing a scene straight out of “Sex in the City Goes to Hell.”
“Interesting décor.” She breathed through her mouth to keep her animal side from surfacing. This much blood and gore would have her going nuts if it were next week instead of this one.
A momentary curse for the admiral shared space with a breath of gratitude for his timing. Part of her wondered if Black would have sent her when the moon increased its pull on her.Of course he wouldn’t, the bastard thinks of everything. A few more days and he would have sent his precious Michael, fuck his love for the human.A niggling thought gained a foothold in her brain before she could shut it down.Michael has his own torments under the admiral, that’s a huge fucking cross to bear. The things he has to do for that soulless bastard.Uncertain where the sympathetic impulse came from, Gabrielle shook it off.
Michael might be Black’s second in command, but there was no excuse for some of the shit he’d done in the admiral’s name. There was a point where you had to just stand up and say no. That he never did took huge points away from the quality of Michael’s character in her mind. Forcing herself to main
tain a calm facade, she turned around slowly until she faced the relatively young vampire behind her. He hadn’t aged a day.
“You were supposed to grow up, stay under the radar,” she told him evenly.
Still staring at her, unblinking, Kenneth’s slight shoulders rose and fell. “I tried. It’s boring.” An Army Ranger when he’d been “drafted” by Black, Kenneth had a more slight, athletic frame than Ryan and came in a good two inches below six feet. Though his smaller stature did not lend itself to any sort of delicacy on the Ranger’s part. Being up against bigger men, saddled with hiding his clairvoyant tendencies, and having to prove himself every day, had served to make him mean. There had been a cruel streak in the human. As a vampire, Kenneth was a full-blown sadistic sociopath.
“Is that how you explainthat?” She nodded her chin past the black leather couches toward the far back wall of exposed brick where a single figure reclined, strapped to some sort of metal apparatus eerily similar to a less padded dentist’s chair. Fluids spilled out from numerous openings onto the plastic sheeting taped down over the pale wood floor.
Kenneth’s laughter, too high pitched and breathy to be entirely sane, bounced off the hard surfaces in the apartment. Gabrielle, who had seen unspeakable things in her near immortal lifetime, fought back the shudder threatening to shake her shoulders and close off her throat. “No, Gabs,” he called her by her nickname as though no time had passed since they’d parted ways. “Thatis just leftovers.” He giggled and her gorge rose. “Dinner was so good I just couldn’t leave without taking some home.”
She kept all emotion out of her voice. “Maybe next time you should. What if someone came up here and saw this.” The mixture of liquids that had been coming out of what was left of the human for hours was contained on the clear plastic square centered under the restraining device, though some neared the edge, threatening to spill onto the ash flooring. “Bloodstains seriously reduce your chances of getting back your security deposit.”
“And carrying a gun in here seriously reduces your likelihood of walking out.” When she met his eyes she saw only the flat black of a vampire’s staring back, no expression on his face, no hint of the grey his human nature favored. “Are you so tame now you need one ofthose instead of the weapons naturally at your disposal?
Gabrielle considered changing into the wolf nudging at her consciousness, demanding escape. Her features belied nothing beyond a lazy boredom, maybe some mild annoyance at having been sent on a courier’s errand. “It’s easier to explain a gunshot in this neighborhood than a mauling.”
At that, Kenneth laughed. Gabrielle’s opinion of his sanity cemented itself. The madness that had forced him from their ranks at his initial turning had not tempered with time. It was still there, chillingly close to the surface. What the hell was Black thinking bringing him in? They were better off with the witch they had, at least she was controllable through her relationship with Michael. Jealousy seeped in when she considered all that he had when she had nothing; allowed herself nothing. Roughly, she shoved it aside with an agonized bitterness.
“You’re right, there’s no explaining away claw and tooth marks in the middle of the city.” His eyes glowed with an unnatural light. “But that’s not to say there aren’t other ways to hide your need for fun.” His dark focus turned back to the remains of the human strapped to the metal chair. It whimpered. Kenneth’s smile twisted into something terrible. “We have many beautiful and polluted rivers in our fair city. Don’t underestimate the effects of chemicals and water on a human body. It barely takes a week if you take certain precautions before you throw them in.”
Her features gave nothing away. “Then why don’t you put it out of its misery and make use of one of those waterways. The admiral doesn’t like to wait.”
“The admiral doesn’t like to wait?” He went still like only a vampire could. Any hint of color in his well fed caramel flesh fled in his anger, leaving him an odd shade of ashen. Like he was sick.
Has been for about thirty years, she thought.
“How unfortunate the admiral might be so inconvenienced. No one cared how long I waited for him.” When Kenneth turned back to her, his fangs were out and his voice shook when he spoke. He had reached his tipping point and was about to go over. “This ismyhouse andmy time. I had plans tonight and Admiral Black is going to have to wait until I’m finished before I come running like one of his dogs.” With that he strode off toward the kitchen and utensils started clanging.
Knowing her time was limited and her new-slash-old colleague was going to have a huge problem with what she was about to do, she reached under her jacket and fingered the cuffs. Padding quickly and quietly on the balls of her feet to keep her heels from clacking on the wood floor, she went to the human wreckage, staring into haunted eyes. The duct tape covering his mouth moved, vocal cords ruined by screams that had gone unheeded for what smelled like days made noises to match the pleading in his eyes. Crystal blue, when they weren’t bloodshot, they held her with a fixed stare. Near death, his blood no longer flowed freely. It had nearly stopped. Still, they didn’t have time to wait, and a monster she was not. No matter what she let the others think, she was merciful.
“Rest,” she breathed, lowering her face to his while her hands slipped around his neck. One on his chin, the other at the back of his neck, a quick twist and it was done. The final breath leaving his body sounding like a grateful sigh.
She was surveying the mess they had to clean up, pondering the distance to the nearest river when she heard the clatter of the tool he’d chosen for his next round, hit the floor. Prepared for the reaction, she forced her body to stay loose and ready for anything.
“You bitch!” he shrieked, hands on his hips. “How dare you come into my home and steal from me!”
“He was almost dead anyway.” Years of practice allowed her to keep her vitals from spiking as she waited for the attack she knew was coming.
“My house, my toy. I choose when it dies.”
She waited. He ranted. Predictably, he finally launched himself at her. The hand hovering at the small of her back, at the edge of her short leather jacket, snagged the cuffs made of the admiral’s special blend of silver and steel. At the last second, before his outstretched arms wrapped around her waist to take her down, Gabrielle stepped aside and snapped a cuff on his wrist. Silver hit flesh, he dropped like a stone, instantly immobilized. Fearful what the admiral would do if she broke him, she shot a hand out under his head before it slammed on the hard surface. Soft brown hair tickled her exposed wrist as she lowered it to the ground.
Hands on her hips, the frustrated werewolf cursed under her breath. She was going to have to manage the cleanup herself. “He’d better have another drop cloth or I’m going to have a bitch of a time returning the rental.”
Chapter 8
Los Angeles
That evening
A chic nightclub and a long line of people dressed for a night at the meat market would usually have Becca rolling her eyes at the superficial attendees waiting in line with her behind the velvet rope. Predictably, a moment of eye contact between the man operating the brass clasp on the rope and Michael and the trio were waved forward. No waiting for them. Good, less time for idle chit chat. The combination of Becca rushing them out of the estate and a lack of privacy in the car, had afforded little discussion on the way up to LA.
Inside, it was more of the same. A few looks from Michael combined with Ryan’s sheer size made for clear passage through the crowded entry. Couples and small groups lingered near the door. A petite young black man eyed Ryan and his thick, jean clad thighs hungrily. The big Marine barely noticed. His path took them straight past the outliers and directly into the mob. Blue lights behind the DJ on the far side of the dance floor illuminated and cut in a mind-numbing pulse, but were thankfully less pronounced at the edge of the black dance floor and transitioned over to the pale tile that differentiated the bar area to their right. Ivory couches and low tables set up
like mini living rooms filled the not even remotely serene lounge area. Ryan approached a living roomette he liked the look of and took a step aside. Michael automatically approached and spoke a few words to each member of the small party. Within seconds, Ryan was stretching his arm out across the top of his couch, facing the dance floor and tapping his fingers on the back of the cushion with his legs crossed casually.
Slightly less enthused to be there, Michael and Becca settled on the love seat perpendicular to Ryan. The vampire was careful to keep her on his uninjured side. Michael, in the spot nearest the bar, made eye contact with the server. Weaving her way through the clusters of drinkers, flirters, and seated dancers, she approached them immediately.
“I gotta say, Mike, going out with you is like VIP service 24/7.” Ryan chuckled, eyes swinging from the entry to the dance floor. “Lot of talent in here tonight.” His observation was met with silence. “Are you not seeing this, Mike?”
