Return of Victory: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Reclaiming Honor Book 8)

by Justin Sloan

  “Enough out of you,” Sandra snapped. “Val, talk some sense into them! You can find the place; you’re great with direction. You found your way back from Norway, after all.”

  “France, actually.”

  Sandra frowned. “Oh. You…you went back?”

  Valerie nodded slowly. “I didn’t get out of the airship. I thought I’d want to, but when I was there, I just…didn’t feel the need. It’s in the past, not a part of me I need to explore anymore.”

  “All about the next step now, huh?”

  Valerie nodded. “That’s right. And right now, as much as I want to side with you, Diego has a point.”

  “Take Davies!” Sandra countered. “He was there.”

  “He can’t heal,” Diego argued. “And if you need to move quick, he’s not a Were. I’m the right choice, and we all know it.”

  Sandra looked desperately at Davies, but he shook his head.

  “Call me a coward,” he stated, “that’s fine. But me going back out there? Not very likely unless I’m ordered to, and then it better be alongside a damn army.”

  “Valerie’s better than an army!”

  “True, but… Am I being ordered?” He looked at each of them, though none of them were in his chain of command. “If not, I’ll have to side with Diego on this. He really is the only option.”

  “Dammit.” Sandra pulled out a chair and sat, arms crossed. She took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s decided. I’m over it. Plan?”

  Valerie hesitated, but then cleared her throat. “Can we bring everyone back here to New York and then take a strike team out to deal with the enemy?”

  “That’s one strategy we’ve been mulling over,” Davies replied. “Problem is, some of the people don’t want to leave their homes.”

  “Then we make them.”

  Diego chuckled. “Yes, that’s an option. A very Valerie option, which is why you’re in the ‘kicking ass’ business instead of the ‘making friends’ business. There’s an old man in El Diablo—Pops. He won’t go easily, and the folk who live there aren’t keen on forcing him.”

  “There might be other villages too, and other situations like Pops’,” Sandra offered. “We can’t go around the world making everyone pile into New York. The city would burst.”

  “So what do you recommend?” Valerie asked.

  “We simply have to destroy our enemies,” Sandra answered. “Set up in these different towns if we must. Defend and destroy, that’s our motto. D and D.”

  “D and D… I like that. Or the Double Ds.” Valerie pursed her lips in thought. “Okay, so if it’s all about the Double Ds from now on, why are we sitting around here pulling an SOOA all day?”

  “SOOA?”

  “’Sitting on our assessment.’ Let’s get moving.”

  Diego nodded, gave Sandra a kiss, and said, “Let’s go.”

  “For the record, Val,” Sandra commented, “acronyms don’t work for everything. Let’s leave that to me. Also, don’t you let Diego get hurt or you’ll be answering to me.”

  “All about the threats these days,” Valerie replied with a laugh. “’Don’t let my man get hurt, don’t miss the baby.’ I get it.”

  “I’m damn serious about both of those.”

  Valerie nodded, then held her friend by the shoulders. “I know you are, and I promise to do my best on both accounts.”

  Then she gave her friend a quick kiss on the forehead. Sandra wiped it off with a confused look, but laughed. “Whatever, just go kick their asses.”

  “Deal.”

  “Who said I need looking after?” Diego muttered as he started to follow Valerie toward the hanger bay where they kept the Pods.

  He paused to give Sandra a more thorough farewell and convince her he would come back in one piece, leaving Valerie to linger in the hall. She spent the time assessing the places where they had tried to cover up and repaint the holes where bullets had hit the walls. In a sense, this building was as much a member of the team as any of them, she thought.

  When they were ready, they made their way to the Pods and soon flew out, watching New York grow small beneath them as they rose, then disappear in the rear display.

  “She will come after you, you know,” Valerie stated. “If you die, I mean. She’ll go into the afterlife and pull you right back here so she can unleash her own version of hell on you.”

  Diego chuckled, glancing back at the city. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Then we’ll just have to make sure you don’t take any shit, right?”

  “Hey, any plan that involves me not getting hurt sounds good to me.” He thought about it, then added, “Or rather, not getting hurt beyond the point of healing. We have to defeat these sons of bitches, and I mean to do my part. Just…if you see any grenades about to take off my head, give me a shout. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  He leaned forward to assess the ground behind them, and pointed out the direction to steer. Soon they were well on their way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  El Diablo

  Cammie and Royland meandered back to El Diablo, having spent the evening in each other’s arms while she drifted in and out of sleep and he stayed vigilant. The sun was already starting to touch the edges of the dark clouds above, so Royland pushed them to move faster. It wasn’t easy waking without much rest, even if Cammie’s Were abilities had quickly healed the crick in her neck. The benefits of being a member of the UnknownWorld were immeasurable.

  “We might not have much time for that over the next few days,” Royland said as they reached the incline at the edge of the town.

  “Not weeks? Months?”

  “First, I would never last that long. We’d find some dark corner, even in the middle of war. Second, Valerie’s on her way back, right? There’s no way this war will wear on. I’d like to think of it as more of a skirmish, a bunch of bees found in the school playground that Valerie’s going to swat down.”

  Cammie nodded, licking her lips at memories of his flesh pressed against hers. Damn, she was glad she’d found this man. Judging by the smile he was now giving her, he knew how lucky he was in this situation too.

  The smile faded as his eyes moved past hers, and he mouthed, “Oh, fuck.”

  She spun to see Micky and several of the others carrying a body. They all had blood on them, and cuts.

  “Where the hell were you?!” Arturo shouted, storming toward them.

  “Arturo!” Micky shouted. They placed the body next to two others. “Not now!”

  “No, fuck that! These shit-licking bags of bones just up and vanish on us and you give them a pass?”

  Royland’s teeth were bared now, but still he kept his cool. He actually had to hold Cammie back, because she was about to slap the shit out of this leather jacket-wearing asshole. Nobody was allowed to speak to her like that.

  “What happened?” Royland asked, walking up to Micky. With a glance around, he added, “And where’s the sergeant?”

  “He went after them to the east,” Micky replied, eyes staring blindly in shock. “Three men and two women came in with knives in the night. Nomads, by the glimpses we caught of ‘em. Crazy type you don’t mess with, but fuck that. Not anymore…”

  “They got Pops,” Arturo said, his anger crumbling to sorrow. “A knife in the heart, then the bitch slit his throat.”

  “They ain’t holding back,” Micky declared, “then neither are we! Get your gear, ladies and gents, we’re going to war!”

  All those gathered burst into a roar, thumped their chests, and spread out to prepare themselves.

  Cammie and Royland shared a nervous look. Damn, so much for the idea of crawling into dark corners to kiss during the war. Based on this, they’d be too nervous to so much as hold hands if it caused them to look away from their enemy for a second.

  She sighed with the realization of what this meant. Of how much blood would have to be shed.

  “Fuck it,” she told Royland. “Looks like the old Cammie is coming out.”<
br />
  “Channel your inner B.A.,” he said with a shrug, his eyes smiling despite the worry and anger on his face.

  It was almost enough to make her smile, that he remembered how much she used to obsess about the legend of Bethany Anne, or B.A. for short. While she liked the idea of settling down on the island and getting a dog, maybe trying to have a child someday and seeing if that could be a reality, right now it made a lot more sense to channel her inner B.A. and kick some ass.

  “Point us in the direction Garcia went,” she said, grabbing Micky by the shoulder.

  “I don’t need to,” he replied with a laugh. “Where the hell do you think the rest of us are going? There’s no more Pops holding this lot back.”

  “And this strike against Lady Woo?”

  “It’ll have to wait.” His eyes showed there would be no arguing that. Since she wanted him and Garcia on the mission and felt the people who had attacked during the night needed to pay for what they’d done, she nodded, then turned to see the sunlight now touching the rooftops. “Honey,” she addressed Royland, “you’re going to have to put on your sun-suit.”

  “Don’t call it that.”

  She smiled. “Fine. You wear it, and I agree not to call it a sun-suit. What should I call it?”

  “Just shut up and kill baddies, and I’ll do the same. When this is behind us, you can call it whatever you want.”

  “Deal.” She still wore the smile as she poked him in the chest only semi-playfully. “But you tell me to shut up any way other than jokingly, I’ll pulling off your mask in broad daylight.”

  “Don’t joke like that.” He glanced at the incoming rays of light and started for the room where they had stored the protective gear he would wear, compliments of an assassin clan Valerie had taken out near Chicago.

  “When he gets back, we’re heading out,” Micky stated. Then he turned to the others nearby and shouted orders for them to get supplies—whatever they might need, since they weren’t sure how long this would last.

  Within the hour they were on the move, Royland’s grunting muffled by the mask that somewhat resembled an old-style ninja’s. It covered his face completely, eyes and all, giving him some visibility but focusing primarily on protection. It was times like these that Cammie appreciated being a Were instead of a vampire.

  A few of them walked but the others took the airship for a distance, just far enough to see where the attackers went but not close enough that anyone else should see them. They figured this would also work in that if those on the airship saw something from their vantage point, they could swoop down and alert those on the ground.

  “What more can you tell us about this group we’re after?” Cammie asked Micky as he checked the tracks left by Garcia.

  “Always on the move,” he replied, grumbling as he worked on hold his emotions in check. “Good thing Garcia went after them and left this trail, or we might be wandering around out here blind.”

  “And good thing Garcia’s a damn fine soldier,” Royland replied, pointing out a shape ahead. As they got closer it was clear it was a body, and not Garcia’s. “He might even kill them all before we get there.”

  They reached the body and Arturo bent over it, then turned to Micky and held up the severed head. “Cut off with his own knife, looks like.” He pulled the knife out of the ground where it was stuck beside the head. The corpse was dressed in brown and gray, mostly rags and clothes tied around its neck, waist, and arms.

  “He better leave some for us,” Micky grunted. “This is them, though. Basically sand ninjas.” He glanced at Royland with that last bit, which earned him a grunt of disapproval from the vampire. “Nomads, always on the move, but…this particular group works like mercenaries. They go with the highest bidder, if they don’t kill the bidder. Kinda crazy in that way. You walk into their camp, they might just kill you for the fun of it, or you might leave having just bought some of the deadliest killers around.”

  “Vamps? Weres?” Royland asked.

  Micky shook his head. “I should amend that by saying some of the deadliest human killers around.”

  “For the record, we’re human too,” Cammie corrected him. “Just special.”

  “That what your momma told you?” Arturo asked.

  Cammie glared at him. “You talk about my mom again, maybe I eat your face like I did the bastards who tried to bomb us last night. Put you out of your misery.”

  “Whoa!” Micky gave her a surprised look. “Getting a little irritable?”

  She noticed she was sweating in the heat, and realized that, yeah, maybe she was getting a bit pissy. “Just…give me some water and a snack.”

  Micky glanced around and held up a hand, fingers spread in a signal for everyone to take five.

  “Thing about nomads,” Royland mused, “is how do you find them to hire them?”

  “Ah, and that is the secret,” Micky replied. “Makes them much harder to hire, doesn’t it?”

  “So they’re in league with this Lady Woo?” Cammie asked.

  “More than likely, paid off by some other group. Maybe the group that attacked last night, probably on their way to connect with Lady Woo. That’d be my guess, anyway.”

  “Couldn’t we then, in theory, just pay them more?”

  “Nah. As crazy as those sons of bitches are, they’re loyal. Might even be on Lady Woo’s side for all we know, having been hired by her many times in the past. Way I understand it, she was using them to take out her rivals out here. Anyone who wouldn’t join the network, she made a move on. Once you lose two or three leaders, you start to think maybe you should join up.”

  “And yet she never took you all out,” Cammie noted. “Why was that?”

  “Pops was a mean old son of a bitch, but…there was a reason for that, and it’s the same reason Pops never let us make a move on her.”

  “Oh, damn. Don’t tell me,” Royland said.

  “A history?” Cammie asked.

  Micky nodded. “Had a kid together, lost the kid…lost each other. How it goes sometimes, but not a good situation by any means. Still, we respected that. Until now, anyway.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to bring the town in on our little assassination plan,” Cammie said, realization hitting her like a brick wall.

  Arturo was there now, sitting down to join them, and he nodded. “Anyone else had known, they might’ve told Pops. Would’ve broken the old man’s heart.”

  “Now we’re already on the move.” Micky shrugged. “Might still stick with the plan, or see how this goes. Might find us an ally on the way and have a force large enough to attack with.”

  “You’re telling me you know some other groups out here that might be on our side?” Royland asked. “Why wasn’t this mentioned before?”

  Micky shook his head. “Won’t be as easy as that, but if we could convince one or two people we’re the winning side, yeah, there might be a chance.”

  “You’re basically saying that if we defeat this merc group, others will take notice and want to be on the winning side?”

  “Basically.”

  Cammie’d had her share of forming alliances and wrapping groups into theirs up north, so she got this and how it worked. “Let’s show those sons of bitches we mean business then.”

  With that she stood, took another swig of water, and was ready to move on.

  ***

  Garcia hid behind an abandoned water tower, one that had fallen over and gone dry many years ago. He had caught up with the attackers just before sunrise, at least the ones who had made the last moves and now took up the rear. Those were now dead, left along the trail as bread crumbs for his companions to find if they deemed to follow him out here.

  Where the hell they had gone, he had no clue. But knowing them to the brief extent that he did, he had an idea. Those fuckers were canoodling while he was getting vengeance. And that’s how he saw it too. Sure, justice like Valerie and hers were always spouting off about was good and all, but he liked to shove men�
�s fists back into their damn throats when they tried to punch him. Come into a town he was protecting and kill its leader? Oh, you could be damned sure he was going to march right into their town or wherever the hell they lived and deal out some unholy damage.

  Right after he got the lay of the land, and paused in hopes of his friends finding him. So here he was, watching and waiting.

  The attackers were now taking a break to eat and yell at each other, demanding that some go back to look for the stragglers. He hoped they did, because if Cammie and Royland were back there, he wanted them to get their hands bloody in this mess too. He wasn’t greedy. Why should he have all the fun?

  He couldn’t stand the look of them. Filthy, unorganized—they might be some of the best fighters around, as Micky had claimed before pointing Garcia in the right direction, but they lacked discipline. One was shoving the other, another yelling at him to calm down, but nobody was really in charge here.

  If he had just wanted to take them out, now would’ve likely been a good time. But that wasn’t big enough. He wanted to go to the next level. Find out where the rest of them were, and then take care of them.

  He was just about turn and take a well-deserved piss when two of them he hadn’t noticed joined the crew from the other side, bringing with them a small boy and his father.

  “Get your filthy meat-hooks off me!” the dad shouted. “And if you touch my boy—”

  “Shut him up already,” one of the men said, and the woman to his right walked up and backhanded the dad.

  The boy yelped and shouted, trying to take a swing at one of the attackers while they laughed and shoved him back and forth, and then into the dirt.

  Garcia was pissed; this wasn’t supposed to happen. His plan was to follow them to their hideout. If he intervened now, he might not find out where it was.

  Then again, he realized as one of the men stepped over the dad, shouting something about humility and pulling down his pants as if to piss on the man, he could make them run.

  Of course they would flee to the only place they felt safe. He just had to survive the ordeal and be so badass that the survivor, or maybe survivors if he was being generous, would run.