by Justin Sloan
The clattering told her which way he was going, but the other guy had stuff, so she headed toward where the noise had started.
She came out in an open area that had multiple levels of these sewage walkways, and saw a man staring down at her wide-eyed from above, a small pack in his hands. If she were a betting woman, she’d have put money on that pack containing a lot of it.
“Stop!” she called and ran out, jumped onto the handrail of her walkway, and then leaped up to grab ahold of the one above, and pulled herself up.
The man’s eyes went wide and he turned to run, but she was already on him. The case went flying and vials spilled out, clattering across the walkway before falling into the sewage below. All but one, which she snatched up before turning back to the man.
“Holy fartbags lady,” the man said, loosening his tie as he assessed her, trying to figure out how mad he was allowed to be. “You just cost me a year’s salary.”
“Vampire blood?” she asked, and pulled the stopper to take a whiff. Oh yeah, definitely vampire blood. “Tell me where you got this.”
He stood, deciding to be defiant, so she kicked his legs out from under him and leaped onto him, knee in his back.
“WHERE?!”
“The man who just ran, talk to him!” the man said, about to break into tears.
“Shit!” She slammed his face into the metal walkway for good measure, and then was up, running in the direction she’d guessed he had gone. She could stay here, trying to get answers out of this man, but judging by the way he was acting like a baby, it was likely time wasted that could be better spent in the right direction.
But she held onto the vial, so that she’d at least have something to show Valerie, if this didn’t work out.
Proof that the blood trade was still very much alive.
She saw a shadow dart ahead, and pushed herself, leveraging her Were power but not wanting to transform and risk dropping the vial of vampire blood. At the corner she pushed off the wall to get extra momentum and ran, and then saw the man leaping from the walkway to a nearby rock shelf.
Almost there, she let her claws out and allowed her sharp teeth to extend, and leaped for him. They were in some other part of the city now, she was sure of it, and though it was still the sewer, it reminded her of an ancient cave like you would hear explorers brag about.
She snagged his arm.
The man was lanky with hair falling down to his shoulders. He wore a simple T-shirt with the symbol of a knotted tree, and carried a backpack which she figured he used to transport the blood.
She jerked him around, “End of the road,” she said. “Time to talk.”
“You think you scare me,” he said, voice shaking in terror. “There’re worse monsters, there’s—AHH! ”
SMASH!
The ceiling had suddenly dropped down on him, swinging at an angle, and impaling him with three large spikes, before moving back up and leaving his body to simply drop dead, and roll off the side into the sewage water below.
Cammie took a step back, mouthing What the Fu—when her foot hit a wire and she felt something cinch around her ankle before pulling her up.
No way in hell was this happening, she thought, transforming into a wolf and barely slipping out just as a ceiling plate moved and would have smashed her to bone-meal.
She landed and then lay there, breathing heavy, leg throbbing in pain, and could barely keep her head up as the whole area seemed to pulse. The man was dead, that was for sure. The traps had nearly gotten her too, and for what?
Slowly, she pulled herself together and knelt, assessing her surroundings. There was a patch of metal barely visible in the dirt that covered more of the ground closer to the rock wall. Her Were eyes were just able to pick up the reflection of a distant light on a string, which, when she followed it to the walls, looked like it could either result in an explosion or maybe another wall movement. Above, she saw a metal cage that she’d probably noticed earlier but just thought to be part of the walkway. It was possible that would come down and sweep someone into the sewage, trapping them there until they drowned.
Forget this place, she thought, and turned back the way she had come. Careful where she placed each step, she backtracked and only allowed herself to breathe out loud when she was back on the metal walkway.
Her first instinct was to run from this place and never return.
But then she thought about it. A hidden area with traps like this was definitely protecting something. Ella? The CEOs? A store of vampire blood and the pirates smuggling it?
Whatever it was, she had to make sure she could find her way back here, and had to bring Valerie. There was no one else she trusted to be able to get past those traps, and if there was a real danger in there, Valerie could handle it.
She turned and began her trek back, cursing with each step noting the droplets of blood that fell from where the wire had gripped her leg. It would heal, but damn she wished her healing was instantaneous.
Restaurant in Old Manhattan
Sandra smiled at Lorain, who had an intense look of concentration on her face as she spelled out her name while, nearby, Jackson stood watching approvingly.
“Very well done,” Sandra said, smiling. Lorain blushed, but it was clear she was proud.
“Thank you, for this,” Jackson said when Sandra stood, preparing to leave. “I know you’re busy, so—”
“Nonsense,” Sandra said. “She needs to be learning, and I’m happy to do my part. At least the art of reading and writing mustn’t be forgotten.”
“It’s hard to convince families of that nowadays, when they’re so worried about simply surviving from one day to the next.”
The back door opened and Diego and Wallace entered.
“No sign of her?” Jackson asked, and Wallace shook his head. “And if there were?”
“She’s a different woman than the one I had feelings for,” Wallace said. “I get that.”
“We should get back to HQ.” Diego wrapped an arm around Sandra’s shoulders. She leaned into him, loving the feeling of an almost normal life. The two had escorted her out here so that she could help tutor Lorain, who could then teach the other teens and kids who had missed out on education in favor of learning to survive.
Sandra, however, had been raised in a privileged class, learning what schools of the old days might’ve considered important. Now she was happy to see that she could do her part for the city, in addition to just knowing how to use a sniper rifle, her brain was coming in handy.
Plus, on the way back they were planning on stopping by the storefront where she’d be making her wine and cheese, once they got a few more steps figured out.
With a glance back to see that Wallace was on lookout, standing at the door and facing away, she leaned over to get closer to Jackson and asked, “So, Ella?”
He shook his head, and then whispered, “She’s so far gone to the other side…”
Sandra shook her head. “Yeah, got it.” Poor Wallace. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do at this point if Diego suddenly switched sides. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he squeezed her gently and then gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Jackson didn’t need to ask about Valerie, though his eyes showed the pain of being apart from her. Sandra could understand it, though that didn’t mean she had to agree with the decision. Valerie wanted to keep the city safe by setting up Jackson for a leadership position separate from her—he was the city’s best bet, at this point. A council of leaders, with him, Donnoly for the police, and so on, while Valerie cleaned up the trash and did her best to cut any ties to the CEOs.
What if they attacked right now, though, Sandra wondered? Would she and the others be enough to defend the city?
Wallace cleared his throat, looking back at them from the doorway.
“Coming,” Sandra said, and gave Diego a quick squeeze, and then walked back over to Lorain. “You keep practicing, you’re a smart girl. We’ll get into math next time, maybe tr
y some French even.”
“I’d like that,” Lorain said. “It’s been nice being able to defend myself with the training Jackson insisted we all receive, but something about this type of learning makes me forget all the problems we face.”
“If we can give that feeling to a good portion of the children and teens of this city?” Sandra said, “I think we can consider this a success.”
“Agreed.” Lorain smiled and then hugged Sandra. Caught off guard, Sandra smiled and hugged her back. “Tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Sandra agreed.
She went back and took Diego’s hand, and the two followed Wallace outside, stopping briefly to wave to Jackson.
“Sure you don’t want to come see the place?” Sandra asked.
Jackson sighed. “Got my top people coming by to discuss how to deal with… all this.”
“You can say it,” Wallace said. “I’m heartbroken, not stupid. Ella has gone over to the other side.”
Jackson nodded. “You’re a wise man, Wallace.”
Wallace scoffed.
They had just turned to go when a grating at the side of the street clanked, and then moved out of place.
“What the…?” Wallace said, hand on his pistol as he stepped toward the grate.
Sandra pulled back, allowing Diego to step in between her and the grate. And then, to their surprise, Cammie came climbing out.
“The hell are you doing in the sewers?” Diego asked.
“Nearly getting killed,” she said, motioning to the hurt leg and tears in her clothes. “You just going to stand there gawking, or do you want to help me?”
Wallace stepped forward, helping her to stand, and they turned to notice Jackson and Lorain in the doorway.
“Cammie, that you?” Jackson asked. “Shit, you okay? And I use that word literally, because you smell like shit.”
She rolled her eyes, “You still have a crappy sense of humor,” she retorted.
He shrugged with a half smile. “But seriously, what happened?”
“Long story. Is Valerie back yet?”
“Haven’t seen her,” Sandra said.
“Yeah, well,” Cammie glanced around to ensure no one else was around, “suffice it to say that the blood trade is still in effect.”
Sandra thought she noticed a quick, suspicious glance Jackson’s way, but realized she might have imagined it.
“Well, Valerie trusted us to manage the city,” Sandra said. “Let’s regroup at HQ, form up teams, and get to work on those bastards. How about you, Jackson?”
“My people are trying to root out the resistance fighters, who we’ve received word are calling themselves ‘The Stake.’”
“The Stake?”
“I suppose it’s a play on Strake, but also the fact that, in legend, stakes were used to kill vampires.” Jackson shook his head. “It’s not great, but their mission is one of violence, not creativity.”
Sandra sighed and looked back at Enforcer HQ, wondering how she had gone from a youth of fearing so called creatures of the night, to now standing at their defense. There was one reason—Valerie. And right now, she sure was missing her.
But they could do this, or damn well do their best.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Bazaar
Valerie followed Owen back out through the trailers and increasingly dark parts of the stalls where vendors were selling knives and guns, sex, anything that would make normal people uncomfortable.
They just made Valerie want to punch everyone. A punch for you, a punch for Owen, and two-double punches for the guy with the orange shirt. That color could blind someone.
She was here with a goal though, and that was finding those behind the blood trade, or any connection she could find to the CEOs. She’d start here, and maybe then get started on cleaning up the streets, including this riff-raff.
A couple of the girls eyed her as she walked by, but she stayed focused on the room with the bright lights and loud music ahead.
“Might want to lose the coat before we go inside,” Owen said. “It’s not exactly helping to sell your best features.”
She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and started undoing the coat, but then noticed a man walking along, two aisles over, glancing her way while trying to appear as if he wasn’t.
“I think I’ll wait until we’re closer,” she said.
Owen saw where she was looking and nodded, pulling her along with a hand on the small of her back. She debated breaking that hand, but knew that doing so wouldn’t help in her mission any.
“That one’s trouble,” he said, lowering his voice and trying not to look. “Not sure what he wants with you, but if you’ve got his attention, best proceed with caution.”
“I’m not too worried.”
“No?” Owen shook his head. “I wonder if the two women found dead were worried or not. Yeah, that’s right. Everyone saw them leaving with him, saw his hands all over where they shouldn’t be, and then… he comes walking back in here not half an hour later, alone. When they found the bodies outside, no one said anything, but they all knew.”
“The police aren’t exactly our best friends down here,” she said nonchalantly, trying to get his take on where the authorities stood.
He looked over with a frown, then made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Don’t even say that word around here. You gotta be new. Shii—it.”
“Caught me.” She did a double step to keep up as they made a turn. A quick glance showed the sketchy guy was still tailing them. “So… who does take care of business down here?”
“Like I said, Clive has his butchers, Norma her slicers. But homeboy there rides in Clive’s circles, so he won’t touch him. You rat him out to Norma, she’d likely prefer not to start a war, even if the girls that he got to were hers. “
Valerie shook her head, processing all this. Taking care of one aspect of the city had opened her eyes to various other issues. All of this on top of the blood trade? She hadn’t even asked around about the pirates, such as the ones who had taken down the blimp she’d ridden over from Europe. With a sigh, she realized it was just one issue after another here.
First things first, though.
“You can leave the coat there,” Owen said, pointing to a series of hooks along the outside wall.
She was about to, when she remembered the pistol stuck into the back of her pants. While before she’d been able to keep Owen from noticing it because she was in that small trailer with her back to the wall, now she’d be going into this club, showing off the goods in hopes that doing so would get her close to her target.
The ground was dirt over here, so she got an idea. As she let the coat fall from her shoulders, she pretended not to be able to catch it. She dropped to one knee to grab the coat, and in one quick move set the pistol against the wall and brushed dirt across it. Not perfect, but she’d made enough of a mound to cover it while appearing almost natural.
She stood and smiled, hanging the coat on one of the hooks. “Silly me, always so clumsy.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Graceful and sexy from now on, got it?” with another glance back, he said, “Your friend’s gone at least.”
She wasn’t so sure, but nodded and followed Owen to the doors.
Three large men stood with pistols holstered, shifty eyes looking for a reason to use them. They glanced at Owen and then at her, then stepped out of the way. Walking past them, she had to remind herself that she was a badass vampire who had taken on way worse than them. When they stepped back into the cover of the doorway, she felt like she’d just been barricaded in by massive gates.
The lights flashed in hues of blue and red, people dancing, throwing themselves around like the world had never collapsed and there wasn’t an army of mercenaries out there waiting to take down the city.
She almost envied them their ability to get lost in their movements, and paused to watch as the throng swayed with the music. Each beat sent vibrations through her, the scent of sweat
and perfume almost beating out the cigarette smoke.
And then another smell hit her—vampire.
Her eyes searched the crowd, but there were too many of them for her to hone in on who was a Forsaken. Then it was gone, and she wondered if she had imagined it. But no, she was quite sure of her senses, and as she followed Owen up a set of stairs to the left, she kept her eyes on the crowd below.
“Through here,” he said, leading them to one of the many curtained off side-rooms.
She hesitated. Not because she was scared by any means, but because she wanted to turn and find the Forsaken in the crowd. Going undercover meant she had to stick with the story for now, so she smiled and slipped under the curtain.
He followed, and they were in a half-moon shaped room with candelabras lining the walls above plush couches. At one end sat a slender woman with dark skin, her hair combed to one side to frame her face and accentuate her high cheekbones.
Owen cleared his throat and nodded for Valerie to approach, then said under his breath, “Go on, show yourself off.”
She wanted to kick his smug grin off his face, but stepped forward and did as she was told. As she spun, she noted the pistols holstered on the men standing behind the couches, lingering in the darkness.
“What is this?” the lady said, but her eyes showed she was intrigued.
“A new one for your treasure trove, Norma.” Owen stood tall, thumbs in his belt loops. “A volunteer.”
“Red light or black?”
Owen’s expression changed to one of uncertainty, and then he said, “I imagine she’d perform well in either, mistress.”
The word mistress sent a chill up Valerie’s spine as she thought about all those times Sandra had referred to her so. She hoped they were doing better than this. Right away Valerie could tell this woman was not a Were or Forsaken, and although her thoughts pulsed with manipulation, she had a feeling getting close to Clive would be the best way to go here.
