by Justin Sloan
The noises also meant they were probably about done, so she needed to get moving before the man started looking for his coat. The one walking off into the distance.
Turning to the tents of the bazaar, she descended the hill, hands in pocket, hood up.
When she entered the first tent, a man stood at two flaps at the rear, arms crossed, glaring. He tilted his head her way, and she stood there, unsure what to do, as music wafted out from behind him. Laughter, and then someone came stumbling out, obviously drunk and gave her a wary look before disappearing into the night.
Valerie glanced back then to the man standing guard, and said, “I’m here.”
“What?”
“One of the dancers.” She was taking a bit of a leap here, but based on the look in the eyes of the man who had just crept past her, and the music, she figured it wasn’t too far off.
The man looked at her with doubt, so she unzipped the jacket to show off. Her sleeveless blouse, two sizes too small now at the chest, did a pretty damn good job of convincing him.
He smiled and the look of lust came over him, but then suspicion returned. “You’re not supposed to be out here. What’re you doing?”
Pursing her lips, she shrugged and nodded back toward the darkness. “One of the customers wanted a, er, word.”
“Shit, keep that between you and Clive,” the man said, and then held open one of the tent flaps. “Best get in there before he has your ass cut up.”
Those words caught her off-guard, but she put on her best smile and tried to look both apologetic and afraid as she walked past. As soon as she was in, she pulled the coat back tight around her and stood tall.
How was this place still existing? She’d thought her people were cleaning up, but if this was still within the city walls, she imagined there was a lot more to discover in the city, but one step at a time.
The first couple of tents were tied together in a way that made one big one, with several men and women lingering with drinks, or each other, in hand. They’d look up at her, but just keep making out or wallowing in drunken self-pity.
Then she found herself by some stairs at the edge of a large tarp, leading down to what must have once been a construction site hollowed out but never built up, she guessed by the cement blocks poured into the ground at the base of the stairs. When she reached the bottom, there was an actual door with plaster on each side—a wall with the tent flaps attached.
It was starting to remind her of the old stories she’d heard about haunted houses. With a ‘here goes nothing’ attitude, she pushed through the door and stood still staring at the sight.
Before her was a whole market of tables selling food, spices, weapons, and more. Crowds of people, from the apparently homeless to the much better off, walked about shopping, or staring longingly at the goods for sale. Down here, it felt like they were all equal in the excitement of the market.
She stepped forward and looked up at the tarp ceiling, rippling in the night wind, but lined with beams and rows of bright orange lights that gave the whole place an eerie glow. Some of the tables around her also had torches burning, so shadows flickered across the faces of the passersby.
“Care to sample our fruits?” a man with thick, white eyebrows said, holding out a plate of dates. “Just arrived with last week’s dirigibles, you can’t get finer.”
With a shake of her head, she continued, and soon learned it was easier to just ignore all the merchants. More than once the crowds almost knocked her over, and when one tall woman bumped shoulders with her, she was ready to pounce. It was all overwhelming, and she would’ve loved to have Jackson or Sandra here with her.
The tall woman looked at her like she was crazy, and said, “Watch it, man,” before continuing on.
Valerie considered those words, and then wondered. With the thick coat on and her hood pulled up, could she pass for a man down here? The lighting was dark, and with it being so crowded, they probably couldn’t make out her tight jeans—she’d even seen a couple of men wearing pants as tight as these, so that might not be a consideration.
She decided to test it out, and at the next table, one selling everything from toilet paper to rolls of gauze, she paused, looking down at the goods.
“How can I help you, sir?” the plump woman behind the table asked. Valerie looked up with a smile, and the woman cringed. “Er, ma’am. My apologies.”
“Think nothing of it,” Valerie replied. “I chose to wear my husband’s coat, after all.”
The woman blushed, but nodded at the goods. “Is there something I can help you find?”
Valerie looked at the gauze, then noticed a table behind the woman, where underneath it were boxes with the old symbol of medicine—two snakes wrapped around a stick or whatever that was.
“Where does all this come from?” she asked.
“I have my suppliers,” the woman said, eyeing her suspiciously. “Who’s asking?”
Valerie didn’t feel like beating around the bush here, so she got to the point. “You do realize there’s a whole city out there in need of medical supplies?”
“I think it’s time you move on, lady.” The woman turned to the next customer over, but Valerie had an idea. She stepped closer, lowering her voice, “And if I had money to pay for the best healing available?”
The woman paused, scratched her chin thoughtfully, and turned back to her. “You’re asking questions you shouldn’t be asking.”
Valerie smiled warmly, and reached into her pocket to hand over a coin—only, she just realized, she’d left her coins and blood vials stashed away with her purple jacket in the abandoned building. Merde.
The woman saw what she was doing and waited patiently, but when Valerie didn’t pull out any money, her expression soured. Valerie made a note to herself to remember this woman. When Sandra and the others heard about this, they could get a crew of Weres down here to see that the medical supplies were properly distributed to those in need.
With that thought, Valerie glanced around and realized how much other stuff in here could be put to good use.
“Get lost,” the woman said.
Another shopper looked at Valerie out of the corner of his eyes, and she noticed. He nodded her over.
“You got other ways of paying,” he said, voice low, “we can talk.”
“Is that so?” Her voice was like a purr, playing along.
A plump woman shook her head at Valerie and mouthed, “Run,” but Valerie could fend for herself, so she ignored her.
“Follow me,” the man said. “Not too close though. We don’t want Clive’s men getting the wrong idea.”
They walked farther into the bazaar, turning down rows of tables that increasingly felt sketchier. Some had bottles of green and orange liquid of a type that Valerie had never seen before, and could only guess was some sort of drug, while others literally had women in skimpy clothing sitting on a back row like bleachers as men pointed at them and haggled with the so-called merchants.
In this area, trailers were parked behind some of the tables, and farther back there were walls set up, separating the main area from a back room with lights flashing.
“You’re new here,” the man said, more of a statement than a question. “Gotta learn fast that you don’t go asking certain questions in public places.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Just here to help.” He glanced back and eyed the coat. “You’re gonna want to lose that thing though, if you hope to get some of the juice.”
“The juice?”
He rolled his eyes and stopped walking long enough for her to catch up, so that when he lowered his voice she could hear him. “The word on the street for what you’re seeking. You are seeking it, right? I didn’t misunderstand you back there?”
“A red juice, correct?” She watched him as she said it, and his eyes lit up as she mouthed, “Blood.”
He glanced around, nervously, “Don’t fucking think of saying it, not even mouthing it.” He then motion
ed to an area behind several tables where one of the trailers was parked. “Forget this, I gotta see what we’re dealing with here.”
“Excuse me?”
He walked toward one of the trailers, not looking back, just motioning for her to follow.
“This better be where you keep it,” Valerie said, starting to get annoyed at this guy. She had a bad feeling about him.
“Where I keep it?” He glanced back at her as he reached a trailer door. A man stuck his head out from the other side, but saw the two of them and simply nodded before going back where he came from. “Just get inside.”
She sighed, already getting what was happening here. This son of a bitch lured women in here for who knows what. She tilted her head, sighed, and then figured that, what the hell, she might as well find out before deciding what his punishment should be.
He smiled when she walked up the steps of the trailer, then followed her in and shut the door.
It was a weird sensation, knowing you were with some sort of predator but not being scared in the slightest.
The trailer had a dim, blue light in it, the type that made everything feel calm. She imagined it helped the other girls not freak out, but in her case, it just made her mad.
“Come on, off with it,” the man said, standing with the door closed. “If we’re going to walk in there offering favors for the juice, I gotta know they’ll be willing to sell.”
“In where, exactly?” she asked, then gestured toward the direction she’d seen the flashing lights. “We’re talking about that room? What, that’s where the girls dance… maybe more?”
His expression changed to irritation as he glanced at the door behind him. “You think I have all day here?”
She narrowed her eyes and focused on his thoughts. While she couldn’t read minds yet, not like Akio at least, she felt the wave of his emotions flow over her. Irritated, but… not aggressive.
That surprised her.
“You’re not going to try anything here?” she asked, more out of confirmation.
“What?” he laughed. “You kidding me? We got Clive out there with his butchers, and Norma in there with her slicers. I walk around here worried I’m gonna get my throat slit one minute, sold off to those predators the next, and you’re asking if I’m about to attack you or some shit?” He turned to the door and reached for the handle. “I don’t have time for this, get lost.”
“Wait,” she reached out and touched his shoulder. “I might have misjudged you.”
He hesitated, but shook his head. “Lady, you’re striking me as more trouble than the money I make from these connections, got it? So if you don’t mind.”
She hated to do it this way, but revealing her true nature right now didn’t seem like the best idea, so instead she stepped back and dropped the coat.
Judging by the way his eyes went wide and his jaw fell open, he was impressed.
“Shit, girl,” he bit his lip. “You gonna get yourself a year’s supply if you play your cards right. Might even get Norma to take you in as one of her regulars, if you’re in for the long haul.”
“So you’re saying you’ll make the introductions?” she asked.
“Yes, I will.” He motioned to the coat. “Okay, put that back on so we don’t have any competition. We gotta get you to Norma. She pays the best and, honestly, you’ll be damn glad I didn’t take you to Clive. Guy’s a real prick.”
“Thanks…?”
“Owen,” the guy said.
“Thanks, Owen.”
She bent down to grab the jacket and noticed how he blushed when she caught him looking at her cleavage. A real predator wouldn’t blush like that, she thought, and smiled as she stood. With a nod of approval, she pulled her jacket on tight and zipped it.
He didn’t know how lucky he was that she’d waited to act before simply jumping to her first conclusion.
Would he suffer later for what he was doing in assisting in this whole trade business? Of course, she would see that he did.
However, she had to get to the bottom of it first.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Capital Square
Cammie refused to go back to Enforcer HQ until she found something. Anything. Sure, Royland had to go back, or at least find somewhere to hide out during the day, but she had no excuses aside from the need for rest.
Even rest was, in her opinion, overrated. She had stopped by her underground fortress to check in there, grab some beef jerky and an apple, and then went back to the streets.
Instead of hoping to pick up a scent, however, she figured she would try another tactic.
Jackson.
She had found him at the hotdog vendor, the night sky pushed back here by all the bright lights and billboards. He stopped to speak to a crowd of people about how the city was theirs again, and treated them each to a dog, until the vendor was out and had to close shop to go scrounge up some more.
It was cute how he had lingered by a shoe stall, eyes on a pair of Pumas, just like the ones Valerie wore.
But that didn’t change her suspicion. She’d always heard of Jackson Mercer while roaming the streets of this city. He wasn’t just some nobody, some summer fling for Valerie and then that was it—he was one of the eight faction leaders. The men and women Strake had always been so worried about keeping in check, too scared to simply do away with because of the power they held.
It was even rumored that they, or their parents before them in some cases, had been around before Strake came to power. Back then they all fought for control of the Eight Points, a part of the city that Strake had quickly taken for his own as a symbolic gesture. There was to be no more fighting.
Well then Valerie came along and did away with Strake, and in the process the faction leaders were in hiding or killed off, all but Jackson Mercer.
How he’d managed to weasel his way into the heart of the most powerful woman—or vampire—in Old New York, Cammie could not possibly fathom.
Sure, he was a good looking dude. And he had power. And, judging by that look at those shoes, he had a bit of a heart to him.
But…
She watched as he led his throng of followers across the square, said his farewells, and then entered a building with a handful of them still in tow.
He was the one man outside of Enforcer HQ with influence left in this city. If he didn’t know where Ella was, maybe nobody would. The only problem, of course, was that Valerie would probably punch her in the throat if she found out this was happening. A good ear flicking was fine, but a vampire punch to the throat?
Not so much.
So, Cammie had to be sneaky.
Moving along the side of the square, she went to the building Jackson had entered and then ran around to the side. Here she found an old door to the kitchen, the type that are in the cellar, and worked her way in. She waited, and then heard footsteps. Following them, she paused at a spot where the hall led into a larger cellar, and then there was a set of stairs that led up. Voices were coming down, and one of them Jackson’s.
“It’s wearing on me is all,” he said. “I’m no politician.”
“You have no choice but to be,” a female voice said in response. Could it be Ella? Cammie scooted forward, cautious. She was known to jump to conclusions at times, and now was not the best time for that.
“Please tell me it’s as late as I think it is, and I’m not getting as old as I feel.”
“Sir,” the female voice said, and Cammie lost the rest as she backed up, biting her tongue. She’d hoped it was so simple, but no, Ella would never refer to Jackson as ‘sir.’
“You hear something?” Jackson said, and the footsteps moved for the stairs.
Cammie glanced around, not wanting to go back the way she came, and noticed a small cut out behind a piece of plywood. Gently moving it aside, she discovered a small passage and decided this was a better hiding spot.
As soon as she’d entered, however, the female voice said, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
; “Yeah, maybe.”
The footsteps walked off and their voices grew muffled, so Cammie was about to continue her eavesdropping, when another noise came, not far off in the passageway she was in.
Not sure what to make of it, but certain her curiosity would kill her if she didn’t go find out what it was, she allowed her eyes to turn yellow, so that she could better see in the dark.
It was just an empty area under the foundation of the building, and the noise was likely a rat, she figured. But when she was about to turn around, she heard it again, and this time it was accompanied by another—this one definitely a voice.
Who else would be down here? She could think of a couple of answers to that. Ella, for one.
So she went deeper into the skeleton of the foundation until she came upon an area of the ground that was cut out into part of a tunnel. Ducking down to see inside, she saw that it led to the sewers. When she looked up to judge which direction it went she could see that it led farther back along the way that other restaurants and businesses would be.
Following Jackson was easy, but an opportunity like this didn’t come along every night.
She gently lowered herself into the tunnel, and soon found herself walking along a metal walkway beside the sewers. The voices grew louder with each step, and soon she could make out one of them asking questions about vampire blood.
“You don’t get your money back,” a deep guttural voice said.
“No, it’s not about that,” another replied. “I simply want to know its effects.”
“You paid me before knowing what it’d do? That’s rich!”
She carefully moved forward, assessing the various offshoots of these tunnels, trying to gauge which direction the voices were coming from. The last thing she wanted to do down here was try to use her nose to catch a whiff of them, what with the sewage smell already hard enough to fight off.
And no matter how quietly she walked down here, the damn metal walkway clanked and rattled, so that, when she reached the third offshoot, one of the voices said, “Someone’s here! Get that shit out of my face,” and took off running.
