by Graham Brown
Not possible, Kate thought. She’d seen the woman convulse with every squeeze of the trigger. She’d been less than five feet away.
“You must have been very weak,” Serrano added.
“I was shaking from loss of blood.”
“Yes,” Serrano said, peering over his reading glasses at a note. “Two full pints. Enough to be fatal in most cases. Certainly enough to render any normal person unconscious. Which makes me wonder how, Agent Pfeiffer, how on this earth--,” he added, removing his glasses for effect, “--did you end up fifty miles away calling us from a payphone with a badly done patch job on your neck?”
It was a trap she couldn’t avoid no matter how craftily she answered the questions. There was no lie that could fit the situation, and the truth… If she told the truth they’d lock her up, not in jail but in a mental institution.
Her mind wandered back to the moment. The original suspect, a blond-haired man named Christian, reappeared and picked her up. She’d begged him to save her. He’d done something. It felt like poison in her veins, it still did, but somehow he’d healed her neck and taken her away.
She’d woken up in a boxcar on a moving train. He was there. She could feel him. He could hear her thoughts and she could hear his. He’d begged her to stay, but she flung the door open and jumped from the slow moving train. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she knew he wouldn’t follow.
As she ran away, she’d shouted to him: “Just leave me alone! I’ll tell them you’re dead!”
His reply appeared only in her mind. I am dead, Kate. And so are you.
“Agent Pfeiffer…” Serrano called out, “…we’re waiting.”
“I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. “I honestly don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Serrano repeated. He tossed his glasses down. “How’s that going to sound when it gets out? How’s it going to sound to Senator Massimo when he wants to know why his son’s partner is alive, but his son is dead?”
“I don’t know how it will sound,” she said.
“It’s going to sound like bull,” Serrano shot back. “Which it is.”
“Okay,” Kim Tan said, standing up. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”
To Serrano’s frustration, the hearing was adjourned for the evening. Kate sat there waiting as everyone made their final notes and filed out. When the stenographer had packed up and departed, Kate was left alone. She was miserable, in pain, and even with the lights off and the shade pulled down it was too damned bright in that room.
She was strong woman, but she knew she was in trouble. Personally, professionally, emotionally; everything was falling apart. She needed rest but she couldn’t sleep. And despite trying to block it out, despite trying to erase the notion from her mind, all she could think of was tracking down the blond-haired man and making him explain what the hell he’d done to her.
Chapter 6
Boston, Massachusetts
The rain fell steadily from a sky turned orange by Boston’s city lights. It had been coming down for days and the streets of Boston were wet, the gutters flooded and the storm drains overflowing. Everywhere they went, cars, buses and trucks sprayed wakes of dirty water like boats speeding through the shallows.
From inside the first floor of a partially renovated office building, Christian Hannover listened as the patter of rain continued its soothing beat. He focused his gaze on the glass and steel tower across the boulevard. The building was owned by Timeless Export - Import. Vivian Dasher had worked there, prior to murdering an FBI agent in the Bayou and getting shot to hell by the agent’s partner.
Vivian had been one of the Fallen. She was also one of Drake’s minions. Christian figured that made this building one of Drake’s strongholds and the best hope he had of catching up with his wounded enemy.
As he watched the city lights reflect off the building’s glistening skin, Christian wondered how long Boston had been Drake’s base of operation. The building was forty years old. Had Drake been there all that time? Hiding in his citadel as the cars drove by and the clients came and went without ever knowing what lurked inside?
Christian’s own lair was just down I-95 in Manhattan and had been for the past sixty years. Perhaps Drake knew that and was trying to keep tabs on him, or perhaps this was just one big coincidence—the two princes of the night searching the world for each other over the centuries, but living only three hours away by car.
It didn’t really matter, he thought. He was just musing. Finding a way to pass time. Trying not to wonder what he’d do if Drake had abandoned this lair for some other. He doubted he’d find Drake here, but he thought he’d find something. However, the longer he watched, the more concerned he became. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening across the street. No movement. No activity. But there was someone in there.
He glanced at his watch: four thirty. In less than an hour he’d have to hide from the light. He was considering an attempt at infiltration when a black limousine pulled up to the front of the building. A surge of energy coursed through him, not just because something was finally happening, but because he could sense the unmistakable energy wave of his kind.
The driver stepped out and waited by the passenger door. Through Christian’s eyes the driver looked sub-human, bone and fangs and glossy black eyes. He was a Drone, stripped so completely of his humanity that to members of the Fallen, he was a hideous creature; though, to a human, he would look only sickly and perhaps slightly sinister.
The surprise to Christian was that this creature’s presence would alter what he felt so strongly. Drones were powerful and hardy fighters but feeble minded. Their presence was felt more like a small insect buzzing around than a storm arriving.
“There must be another one,” he whispered to himself.
It was too much to hope he’d find Drake, but something greater than the Drone was out there.
The feeling spiked as the front doors of the building opened and a woman dressed to the nines walked out in a hurried strut. She was a vampire and from the vibe she gave off, she was high atop the food chain.
Christian did what he could to draw his own energy down, to shroud himself in the surroundings, but she stopped on the sidewalk and stared in his direction for several long seconds before climbing into the back of the limousine.
In short order the door was shut, the Drone back in the driver’s seat and the limo was moving again, traveling out into the pre-dawn traffic.
This was it. This was the chance he’d waited for all night. He needed information and this creature was the best chance to get it. He made his way across the half renovated room, passing paint-stained tarps and stacks of sheet rock. He arrived at a motorcycle, a dark blue CBR 750 that he’d stolen and driven up the stairs and inside the building.
Of all his sins, becoming a good thief was the only one he didn’t regret.
As he donned his helmet, something flashed in his mind’s eye, a brief sense of another tortured soul. He’d felt it before, but where?
He looked out through the plate glass window. A pale woman in a white Audi was staring back at him. Her face and hair were as ghostly as the car. It was Anya, one of Drake’s four great lieutenants. The only one besides Drake to survive the battle in the swamps.
Christian wondered again how he’d failed to sense her. But then Anya possessed powers he and the other vampires did not. Even Drake couldn’t open her mind. She stared at him, two plates of glass all that separated them. A window to her mind opened.
Follow me.
The words flashed in Christian’s mind and then the window slammed shut.
Outside, the Audi’s headlights came on, the engine whined and the car sped away from the curve.
Follow me. The exact words Elsa had spoken in the dream. Did it mean something, or was it a trap?
He throttled up the bike, kicked the front door open and drove down the steps and out into the rain. The back tire spun dangerously on the wet road as he turned. Consid
ering the weather, a motorcycle might not have been the best choice of vehicles. Still he controlled the bike with an expert touch and quickly began closing on the Audi.
She was heading to the docks in South Boston. Many of the wharfs and older buildings there were abandoned; some had been empty for the past twenty years. Others were now warehouses and holding stations for off-loaded cargo.
As they got closer, he glanced upward. The sky was beginning to brighten, but if the clouds held it would be bearable.
The Audi moved onto the road fronting the docks and Christian followed, avoiding potholes and weaving around debris washed down by the rain.
The Audi pulled in, parking beneath an overhang. The limo was parked down the road beside another of the rusting warehouses.
Christian approached with care pulling up beside Anya. She was still as a statue, as pale as alabaster, her skin so white it seemed to glow. No doubt that she’d been a beautiful woman before her death and rebirth. Despite what Drake had done and what she’d been through, she was beautiful still.
Christian pulled in beside her and flipped up the visor of his helmet. Though he couldn’t sense her thoughts, he projected his toward her. A warning. A threat. If you move on me, I will destroy you this time.
“I have no wish to die,” she said aloud. “Once was enough, thank you.”
He kept his senses on full alert. If she could mask herself it was possible she could mask the presence of others.
“I am masking another,” she said, reading his mind. “You. For the moment I’m keeping you hidden. If I wasn’t, she would sense you already. That’s her skill.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Evelyn. She’s dangerous. Even to you.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said. Christian was filled with confidence. He’d fought Drake and his legion. Fought them to within inches of complete victory. No mere underling would stand in his way, not any more successfully than the stone walls and iron gates had kept him from Drake in the vision.
“I suppose we will,” Anya replied. She was so slight, so thin, he could think only of a knitting needle in the dark, catching the light when it hit just right.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
This time she kept quiet as if she couldn’t speak the words. But he heard them in his mind. I want you to kill Drake.
Christian was stunned. But then again, he’d sensed lust for power in all of the Brethren at one time, even for their master’s position. It was the way of things. “So you can take his place?”
“My reasons are my own,” she said. “But I assure you, they have nothing to do with power.”
It was a moment the likes of which Christian could not recall. But Anya was unlike any of the others and, as he remembered, her attacks in the swamp had been almost predictable and easy to defend. Instead of fighting to the death, she ran when the chance came.
I want Drake destroyed. And like the old priest, I know that only you have the power to do it. It takes all my strength just to keep this thought as my own. But I can’t overcome him. Not even injured as he is now.
“Where is he?”
“Evelyn knows.”
“But you don’t?”
“Drake no longer trusts me,” she said. “He’s stabling a new group of horses, in some ways a more dangerous group. They are...” she tilted her head, “unsound.”
Christian considered that. Weakened and wounded, Drake would likely face challenges from within. A new group might be his only hope for holding onto power. Or one of them might try to swipe it from him.
“So this Evelyn is inside?” he asked. “Just waiting for me.”
“On the fifth floor. She runs the business part of Drake’s empire while he’s off trying to save his own life.”
“Then Drake is dying.”
“As close to it as ever, but the effect is waning.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” he said. “I’m sure she’s not alone in there.”
“She’s not. Many Drones are with her. But you’ll have to go alone. If you fail, I’ll need surprise on my side in order to have any hope of finishing what you’ve started. I will not show my hand.”
He could understand that. “What do you hope to get out of this?”
“I’m a prisoner,” she said turning to him. “What do you imagine I hope for?”
He understood. They were all prisoners.
She looked away. “You don’t have much time. Evelyn will be heading to her crypt soon. And if these clouds clear away…”
Christian tried to see her thoughts but he couldn’t break through her wall. How she could keep people out of her mind he didn’t know, but the amount of pain needed to close the mind was tremendous. Whatever happened to her, he almost didn’t want to know.
“It’s a trap of course,” Anya added. “Drake knew you’d come looking sooner or later.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“You’re not worried about that are you?”
Christian shook his head. He was ready for a war, ready to take on all who stood in his way. He glanced at the horizon. Time was critical now. The clouds were thinning as the rains pushed out into the Atlantic Ocean.
He looked back at Anya and nodded. She nodded back to him.
Good luck.
Without another word, she put the car in gear and drove off.
Christian left the bike where it was and made his way down the road and into the building. Knowing there would be no element of surprise, he dashed up four flights of stairs. At the top of the fifth, Evelyn and her clan were waiting.
“Did you not think we’d sense your presence?” she asked.
He grinned, ready for the fight. “I didn’t really care one way or the other. But I’ll give you a choice. Tell me where Drake is and I’ll let you live.”
She began to laugh. “You really have no idea, do you?”
At that, two of the Drones rushed him, hitting him high and low and all three of them went flying down the first flight of stairs. Evelyn and the remaining Drone moved to the top of the staircase to watch.
Christian got to his feet quickly. One of the Drones stood almost as fast, but Christian kicked it down the next flight of stairs and through the wooden railing sending it to the bottom of the warehouse.
The other Drone went for Christian’s throat, trying to rip it out. Christian blocked the attempt, and with a quick strike to the Drone’s knee, broke its leg in two.
The third came rushing down the stairs gripping a sixteen-inch knife that might as well have been a short sword. Before Christian could react, two more Drones came bursting through the walls on either side of him. They wrapped themselves around him like constrictors, pinning his arms as the charging Drone lunged with the huge knife.
Christian turned, rotated and pulled back. The knife went into one of the Drones that was bear-hugging him and went right through, plunging an inch or two into the side of Christian’s torso.
The pain was instant, but it only released more power. Christian threw the dying Drone off of him and fired a shot with his free hand, hitting the third Drone square in the chest and shattering every rib in the creature’s body. It dropped to the floor, choking for breath.
Before he could celebrate, the final Drone wrapped its hand around Christian’s windpipe and began to dig its claws in.
Christian focused on its feeble mind. Let go.
The pressure was released instantly. The Drone stepped back.
By now, the Drone who’d been stabbed was on the verge of death. In moments, its body would ignite and burn the place to the ground.
Christian stepped forward. He pulled the knife from the poor thing’s side and looked at the surviving Drone.
Outside. Carry him.
“No!” Evelyn shouted. “I command you not to listen!”
It was no use. The Drone did as Christian ordered, and Christian began to climb the stairs once again, moving slowly, methodically.
Evelyn
suddenly seemed fearful. She was calling for re-enforcements. Christian sensed other Drones rushing to join the fight. Five, ten, maybe twenty or more.
Summoning all his strength and channeling the rage and bitterness he felt, he issued a mental command.
Stay where you are!
The clattering of feet ceased. The approaching army halted and Evelyn began to quiver.
In pain from the puncture wound, but more determined than ever, Christian marched up the stairs. He could sense her fear. He could see it on her face. She was shaking. She retreated until her back hit the wall.
He reached the top step. “Am I so much worse than you expected?” he asked.
She said nothing. She was no match for him and they both knew it. She wouldn’t even fight.
Looking around, he could see this was her crypt. All the windows were blacked out just like his loft. An army of her making protected her, but they’d been stopped in their tracks.
Most likely Drake had deceived her. It was his finest art. Had he told her of Christian’s strength, she would have run. She would have fled or hidden herself or given in easily. He could sense her considering that now.
“The dawn has arrived,” he said.
She knew this too. She had nowhere to go.
“I won’t give Drake up,” she insisted.
“I don’t need your permission,” he growled. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just take it. And in exchange, I’ll spare your life as I promised.”
“I won’t let you in.” Evelyn said.
“You have no choice.”
She opened her mouth to protest but Christian had already found a way in. He began to break down her mind even as she tried desperately to keep him at bay. She slid along the wall toward one of the blacked out windows. Christian stopped her and moved closer, staring into her eyes, forcing her to look at him.
There were images. Drake was landing on the oil platform in the stolen helicopter. He was wounded; he was crawling. Evelyn in a boat rescuing him. The light came up before he could get to shore. It made things worse. Burning skin, agonizing pain.
Poison. Poison on the witch’s dagger. Damn her. Damn her to hell.
