Darkest Before The Dawn

by Michael Anderle

  Eve laughed. “I’m glad you approve.” She thanked the man and paid for it with the swipe card she used as currency everywhere in this country, then ushered them down one of the wide halls, talking them through the different game options.

  Mark and Jacqueline followed, filled with the scent of Wata kashi and awe, wooed by the lights, and of course, the technology.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Frankfurt, Germany

  “I swear,” Jan Freholt mumbled as he stepped around the older lady, accidentally bumping her shoulder. She spat a muffled curse and he ignored it. “If that bastard says anything to me about my company after he missed a meeting that was six months in the making…”

  He glanced nervously down the lamplit street and saw an alleyway on his right half a block further down. A tiny ribbon of sweat started to trickle down his forehead, and he reached up to wipe it away with the back of his shirtsleeve.

  Better to not mention anything out loud.

  He heard footsteps following him. He surreptitiously glanced around, taking a second to peek behind him.

  There was an Asian man back there with his eyes trained on Jan.

  Shit.

  Jan started walking a little faster, glanced back once more, and took a shallow breath—the man behind him didn’t seem to have sped up. When he turned back around, there was a bald man with his arms crossed waiting for Jan on the sidewalk.

  Jan stopped and turned back. The other man was now standing right behind him.

  “Hello, Jan,” the bald man said. “My name is Michael, and the person you are angry with and afraid of is someone I wish to speak with.”

  —

  Michael and Akio watched Jan continue down the street. His memory had been fuzzed so he would not remember anything the two men had questioned him about.

  Directions?

  “He had a meeting set up with William, but William has been missing for a couple of weeks.” Michael considered what the two men had learned. “Using a different name—that is a level of sophistication I don’t remember William having.”

  “Perhaps all those years underground allowed him time to think.” Akio looked back into the alleyway, his eyes flitting from shadow to shadow but not finding anything.

  Michael frowned. “Well, I didn’t provide him any toys to occupy his time. That’ll teach me to do something half-assed. I should have just killed him.”

  Akio turned back to Michael. “I believe that has been the common complaint from characters in movies and books for centuries.”

  Michael’s eyes turned and he looked at his companion. “Did you just associate me with the likes of the James Bond villains?”

  Akio pursed his lips. “If the truth fits…”

  Michael shook his head and then pointed back in the direction the man had come from. “Club was that way?” Akio nodded. “Fine. But in my defense,” Michael went back to the previous conversation as he started walking down the street with Akio next to him, “I was more into punishment fitting the crime at the time.”

  “When did that change to ‘just kill them?’” Akio’s voice traveled on the wind.

  “I think about seventy years later,” Michael answered, slipping his hands into his pockets as the two traveled in and out of the light from the streetlamps. “I got into a major disagreement with a pack leader and his core leadership team. They wanted to take over a portion of a forest and kill anyone who came inside. I disagreed.”

  Michael stepped around a large hole in the walkway. “It got to the point where I was extremely annoyed, and my patience was wearing thin, so I decided to institute the ‘No Disrespect Protocol.’”

  “Is that the one that basically says—” Akio started.

  Michael finished it for him. “’Do what I say or die.’ Then, I followed up quickly with the corollary, ‘Give me any lip and die,’ and occasionally, ‘Look at me wrong and die.’”

  “Lots of dying there,” Akio commented.

  “Well,” Michael admitted as the two men took a left and saw the club just two streets down, “I had zero patience left, it was so easy to just kill them and be done with it. I rarely dealt with any repercussions, except for the occasional effort to smoke me out and kill me.”

  “Practice.”

  “It was a bit of a game, true.”

  “So, you implemented the policy and instances of trouble went down.”

  “Not always down,” Michael answered as they stepped across a street to step back up the curb on the other side. “But it did bypass any annoying issues with negotiations, or someone whining about it not being their fault. If I was around, they ran or fought. If they fought, I killed them. If they ran, they were guilty.”

  Akio looked at him and Michael touched his temple. “Bethany Anne wasn’t there; I was always in their mind.”

  There were two large men in front of the club, whose name was rendered in red fluorescent script above the dark wood doors.

  “’Don’t Make Me Angry.’” Akio read the name, then added, “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  “Why is that familiar?” Michael asked as the two nodded to the guys watching the front and stepped inside. The sound level was pretty normal, which was to say quite low for a club that wasn’t full of Weres.

  “Lots and lots of sensitive ears,” Michael mused quietly. The inside had twelve circular booths, each of which could fit three comfortably or five if they sat really close together. There were plenty of metal tables in the middle, all looking pretty banged up.

  “Weres!” Akio grunted. “I think I know what is on the agenda for tonight.”

  “Someone has an answer for me,” Michael told him, then nodded to the huge man sitting at one of the round tables in the back, “and I pick him.”

  “Of course you do,” Akio smirked. “Why start at the bottom?”

  “Akio, I’m trying to be civil here,” Michael whispered. “It would be easier to just lock the doors and beat the shit out of everyone. I’m sure they have all done something that deserves a knockdown. However, I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Because that is what Bethany Anne would want.”

  “And don’t forget to let her know how hard I tried,” Michael answered, and popped his knuckles. “I bet I can have him mad in just three sentences.”

  “I’ll do it in two,” Akio retorted, a gleam in his eye.

  Michael looked at him sideways. “Oh?” He looked back at the large man. “I’ll bet you one run-on sentence.”

  “Fine, but I get to anger the next one.”

  Michael snickered. “I’m not sure which of us is going to upset Bethany Anne more in the end,” he told Akio. Three guys stood up from nearby tables when they saw the two newcomers heading toward the rear of the club.

  The three guys stepped between the vampires and the man in the back, who was eyeing them. All three crossed their arms. The middle one, who had black hair and a tear in his t-shirt, spoke first. “You guys in the wrong place?”

  Michael glanced around at the twenty or so pairs of eyes watching them. They didn’t look very welcoming. “Akio, didn’t that man say to go five blocks before we take a left. Then two blocks before we smell the stupid that comes out the door?”

  Akio shook his head. “That was two sentences.”

  “I’m not speaking to the Alpha yet.”

  The middle guy’s eyes flashed yellow. “How about I stuff your two sentences down your throat?”

  Michael lifted his chin at the Alpha in the back as he kept his eyes on the man who was speaking. “You couldn’t stuff your tiny little wiener inside his—”

  That was all Michael got out before the three men jumped at him and Akio. The Alpha in the back started moving his huge girth out of the booth, his eyes flashing yellow as he roared his challenge.

  —

  Akio ducked the first punch and smashed his elbow into the left-hand Were’s chin, slamming his head back. “I cannot believe this,” he said, his voice calm as he ki
cked the legs out from under the one he was fighting, who threw his head and torso forward as his legs were pushed off the floor.

  Akio’s left fist met the Were’s forehead and cracked it open before he pivoted out of the way. The head continued downward to slam into the floor.

  Turning, he saw that one Were already had a broken arm and the other was trying to get over the fact that Michael had caught his fist in mid-punch. “The problem is, your form is terrible,” Michael was telling the man. He rotated the guy’s hand to the left. “If you would start from this position and twist it as you yell Keayah!, you’d do better.”

  Michael ignored the scream from the guy; apparently he had twisted the arm so quickly he broke his lower wrist. “Well, they don’t make Weres like they used to.” Michael slammed the back of his hand against the man’s forehead, he went down, out cold. “You were hurting my ears,” he commented as he stepped across the comatose guy. The Alpha took one look at his three guards.

  “You come into my place and expect to get out alive?” Big and Large asked.

  “Really?” Michael looked around. “I thought this was the Duke’s place.” He heard Akio take out two more behind him. They must have thought he was fair game.

  Akio was going to owe him for starting this fight.

  The big man’s eyes narrowed. “Well, now you have sealed your death. No one talks about the Duke that we don’t know.” He nodded to Michael. “It’s a rule. You got a name?”

  “To tell the Duke?”

  “No, for your headstone,” he answered, and where there had been a large man, there was now a bear that was six feet tall at the shoulders.

  “Well,” Michael whispered, wincing when the bear roared his challenge. “I take back what I said about them not making Weres like they used to.”

  Akio called from behind him, “You had to pick a fight with someone that big?”

  Michael turned toward Akio. “I never—” he started to say as the Werebear dropped to the floor and leapt across the few feet between them. Michael frowned, then disappeared.

  “Oh shit!” someone yelled when he dematerialized. Akio turned to see that the bear had missed Michael and was now heading in his direction.

  The bear’s momentum was halted just five feet from Akio, but the bear’s paws, the size of large dinner plates, continued to take swipes at him while Michael held onto his back leg. Seconds later, a sudden crack sounded when Michael broke the bone in the back leg. “Have I got your attention yet?” Michael asked conversationally.

  Akio turned around. Three other Weres had stopped getting up from their seats when they saw this man start tearing their Alpha apart.

  One guy off to the left reached under his jacket and flung something in Akio’s direction. Akio dodged as his hand snaked out and caught the throwing star. Akio looked back at the Were, who was starting to reach around to the back of his jeans. “Yours?” Akio asked and threw it back, the star embedding itself in the man’s stomach. “If you pull out a weapon, I will blow your Gott Verdammt head off,” Akio told him as he pulled out his pistol.

  “The Shadow,” someone whispered. Akio turned in their direction and bowed his head slightly.

  “What the hell?” Michael grunted as the bear, whose leg was healing for the third time from Michael breaking it, peered around the massive beast at Akio. “You have a reputation?”

  Akio replied over his shoulder, “I have lived here for over a hundred and fifty years. I have tried to solve problems through the judicious use of fear and intimidation rather than killing.”

  “Is he lying?” a woman to their right whispered. “The Shadow has killed a lot of times.”

  “But not lately,” Akio countered. “The Shadow has not killed in the last two decades, I believe.” He chose that moment to try out his latest smile. From the looks in the audience, he needed to work on it looking welcoming.

  “Oh, shut the hell up!” Akio turned to see Michael dancing with the bear, pulling the bear’s leg out and moving in a circle as he tried to turn around and slice through Michael’s guts with four-inch-long claws. “Change back, or I’ll break every one of your legs and rip off your testicles,” Michael told the Were.

  Half the men in the room winced.

  Michael broke the back leg a fourth time, then jumped onto the bear’s back, clamped his legs around the bear’s sides, and started punching the back of the bear’s head.

  “I said…”

  PUNCH

  “Shut.”

  PUNCH

  “The.”

  PUNCH

  “Hell—”

  Michael stopped punching when he realized he was sitting on top of a barely conscious male whose clothes had been destroyed during his change.

  Akio came over and watched as the man’s head started healing. He looked at Michael, who had grabbed a towel and was cleaning the blood off his hand. “See?” Michael pointed to the man on the floor. “I’m being civil.”

  The two men stood there for a couple of moments before Michael started for the door. Akio followed, but his eyes narrowed. “We aren’t going to question him?”

  Michael turned around and winked, then touched his forehead. “I already got what we need.”

  Akio shook his head and stepped over one of the first guys he had knocked out. “And when did you get this information?”

  Michael stopped walking to speak to a short haired waitress who was standing by the door. “Do you want to go tell your friends we are coming out and to get out of our way, or shall I just shoot them now?”

  Her eyes flitted toward the door and back to Michael, who nodded. She stepped over to it and knocked. “Tim? Henry?” she called. “I’d make sure you don’t piss off anyone coming out. I don’t think these two vampires would appreciate it.”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” Michael agreed and spoke over his shoulder. “See? Civil.”

  A moment later the two men left the club and nodded to Tim and Henry. Halfway down the block, Michael finally answered Akio’s question.

  “It was when we were negotiating how many sentences we would need to start the fight.”

  Akio shook his head. “What did we learn?”

  “We learned that William hasn’t been in for two weeks, but he called two nights ago. Said he was going to be away for business reasons, and our friend back there was to kill anyone who came looking for him if they didn’t know the password.”

  “What was the password?”

  “’The Duke expects,’” Michael replied.

  “And why,” Akio asked as the two men turned left into an alley, “did we not just use the password?”

  “Because the rest of the password was ‘our loyalty and our respect.’”

  There was a bit of silence as Akio thought about it. “You couldn’t…”

  “No fucking way,” Michael answered. “Not in this or any other lifetime.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Undisclosed location, Tokyo, Japan

  The sun streamed over the dusty floorboards in an abandoned building Kuro had bought eighteen months ago for the sole purpose of remaining off the radar.

  He stood in a dignified stance with his hands behind his back, watching the passersby on the street below.

  Orochi, his most recent business associate and ally, sat leafing through reports on the sofa he’d brought to the apartment to make their visits a little more civilized. After all, it wasn’t as if they could be seen meeting in public or at any of their offices.

  The third member of their alliance, Raiden, sat at an old desktop computer, still frustrated with trying to recreate the hardware they very much needed for the next part of their plan.

  “It’s no use. These chips are still working too fast for them to sync with the old processors,” he declared finally, sitting back in his chair in frustration. He dropped the two electrical pins he’d been trying to connect into the open hard drive onto the desktop.

  Kuro turned from his position at the window. “Well, then we will tr
y something else. What other options do we have?” he asked, unemotionally switching into problem-solving mode. He hadn’t amassed his wealth by giving up at the first, the second, or even the third hurdle.

  The tech genius stood up from the computer and pulled his hair as he started pacing.

  Thinking.

  Orochi casually looked up from his papers as he sat on the sofa. “We may not have to figure this piece out.”

  Kuro glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  Orochi normally had a slightly arrogant manner, but Kuro suspected there was a good reason for it on this occasion. His eyes narrowed. “What do you know that you’re not telling us?”

  Orochi shuffled his papers together and closed the folder on his lap. “I’ve heard rumors that they are looking again.”

  Raiden frowned, catching up to the conversation. “They? You mean the Diplomat is back in town?”

  Orochi nodded. “It seems that way.”

  Kuro remained skeptical. “Have we had any confirmation, though?”

  Orochi shifted his crossed legs and picked at imaginary lint on his pant leg. “Not yet,” he replied, “but my people are working on it. It’s very difficult to get confirmation on them. They have earned much loyalty among people here, and much fear around their names abroad. But I have put something in place, just to make sure it’s her.”

  Kuro looked concerned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve found someone dumb enough to try and take her out.”

  Orochi waved his hand. “Don’t worry. If it really is her, they won’t have a hope.”

  Kuro pursed his lips disapprovingly. “You plan to send someone to their death?”

  Orochi shrugged. “It’s the only way we’ll know for sure. Remember, we don’t have any photographic reference or DNA. All we know about her is that she is female, goes by the name of ‘the Diplomat,’ and is lethal when she needs to be. Other than that, she’s a ghost.”