Tatsu’s heart lurched as he recalled his last cruel words to Arisada. How could he have rejected their love so easily? The pain of Arisada’s lie went deep, as deep as Ojii-san’s death, deeper than Sage abandoning him. Still, Tatsu’s heart wanted the vampire with a burning intensity. Strange to have found love in the midst of this insanity. Stanger still his choice.
With considerable effort, he shook off his foolish, stupid, yearning. Who the hell was he kidding? Arisada was eight centuries old, probably would live another eight centuries. He had what? Maybe a day if that long? He might die today but that did not matter as long as he took the monster Sadomori with him.
Perhaps Arisada would mourn him. Tatsu hoped for that much.
A breeze caressed his cheek, cooling it. Tatsu snapped out of his reverie. Pink tinged the tops of the Cascades. As the light increased, indistinct shapes took on substance. It was time. He picked his way through the black molten glass that littered the blistered ground like so many rare jewels. Slipped inside. Thin pale shafts filtered down through the broken ceiling illuminating the piles of smashed concrete and twisted steel covering the floor. He saw only the tracks of rodents in the dust. Tatsu stilled, learning the creaks and groans of the tower. Heard nothing unusual. Still, every instinct warned him that the deserted feel of the place was a lie.
With the silent tread of a samurai, he moved across the floor to the stairwell and peered down into the deepening dark. Dank air wafted up over his face. He heard nothing, smelled only the ubiquitous mildew and mold. Every sense reached out for the most miniscule hint of danger as he descended into the bowels of the tower. He checked each floor. Nothing. Then he caught the incongruous scent of wax coming from far below.
Although the lowest sub-basement was pitch black, Tatsu easily made out the entrances of three massive utility tunnels. He crouched for several minutes, letting the area speak to him. Caught the scent of wax, stronger now, coming from the central opening Nothing. Just that out-of-place smell.
He stepped into the black-on-black hole. Rows of thick, mold-covered pipes and conduit snaked across the roof. Condensation dripped down the walls making the floor slippery. He reached a junction, listened, sniffed. The slight waxy scent came from the right-hand tunnel.
He only took four steps into the narrow branch when something slammed into his temple. Pain exploded through his head. Kuso, ambushed. He staggered then dropped to one knee. A second blow crashed behind his ear, tearing through the lobe. Hot liquid flooded down his neck. A kick from the side caught him in his belly flinging him over onto his back.
“Well, well, what do have we here? A nasty little nezumi,” an oily voice slithered out of the black. “Little rat, you shouldn’t be crawling around where you don’t belong.”
“Daimyō, it is the one with two swords.”
“, sō desu ka, the boy who thinks he is samurai.” the oily voiced hissed. “You shouldn’t play with sharp objects, little gaki.” A shrill laugh accompanied a driving kick into Tatsu’s abdomen, spinning him through the air. He crashed against a curved wall.
Bright lights danced through Tatsu’s vision. His ears rang. He rolled onto his feet, staggered upright with his back against the wall. The sudden whoosh of air gave him no warning as another blow thudded into the side of his head. He turn toward the movement and slashed his swords upward in a crisscross. The impact of the wakizashi through flesh reverberated along his arm. He lunged, missed as the enemy spun to one side with inhuman speed. Tatsu cut left then right, heard a horrific scream ending in a strangled sob.
Suddenly, the air was thick with the sounds and smells of bodies. A shadow rose before him. He slashed sideways with the Ikkansai, felt the blade sliced through flesh. Tatsu relished the wet sound of the death gurgle. A flash of silver and the glitter of red eyes materialized before him. He aimed the wakizashi at those red orbs. Then the impossible. Fingers wrap around that razor-sharp blade. With a wrench, the weapon tore away. Before he brought the Ikkansai into play, the wedge of a hand drove into his chest, nearly stopping his heart. The shock drove him to his knees.
“I’ve wasted too much time on this nezumi. Shoot him.” That same malicious voice hissed.
Tatsu heard the click of the gun’s hammer. Yurushite, forgive me Ojii-san, for my failure. A mere second for that last thought. Then darkness took him.
“Sir, listen to this.” The grate in Cooperhayes’ normally calm tone got the Major’s attention with a snap. The second–in-command transferred the call to the building-wide speakers. Ragged panting and agony-filled moans echoed throughout the foundry. Every Leper heard it. Every man froze. They all recognized those harsh, gurgling wheezes. Whoever was on the other end of that call was spilling the last of life out.
“Mayday … Privet here … Alvarez dead.” The voice ended in a wet gurgle.
“Mr. Privet, respond” Cooperhayes pleaded.
“Repeat, ambush … Benny dead… not gonna make it … trap.” Guttural coughs broke up the man’s cries. A coughing rattle preceded a ragged expulsion of breath. Then silence. Cooperhayes called repeatedly for a response from the man but received only a hissing silence.
“Do you think you can stop me? I eliminated two of your so-called mercenaries like the vermin you are. Soon, the rest of you will die beneath my sword.” Pure vitriol in the voice that slithered out of the speaker. In its tank, the albino cobra reared up, and flared its hood in an angry response.
“Who are you? Answer!” Only silence met the Major’s demand. The Pit’s double doors burst open under the rush of Lepers surging into the room. The bedlam from shouts of disbelief and anger drowned out his call for order.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Phoenix punched the wall with every “fuck.”
“Merde, who in hell is that?” Passebon glared around with frustration.
“Ukita Sadomori.” Arisada stepped, unafraid, into the room and surveyed the hostile glares from the Lepers. “I came as soon as I learned. The Daimyō plans to release the virus from the top of the Space Needle. It is his intent to turn as many humans as possible to build an army.”
“The fucking Space Needle?” Galloway interrupted.
Arisada regarded the blond Leper. “Yes. He also captured Cobb-san this morning. He—” A chorus of “what the hells” drowned Arisada’s next comment.
The Major restored order with one look. “Do you know if Mr. Cobb is alive?”
The vampire’s expression revealed nothing. None of his fear that Tatsu was no doubt being tortured at that very moment. “Wakatta, he is still alive. The Daimyō wants me to witness the boy’s death.”
“Mr. Cooperhayes, bring me what we have on the Needle.” The Major nodded toward his second. Without a word, Cooperhayes strode out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a roll of blueprints. He spread them over the conference table.
“Saito-san, how many vampires are with Ukita?” the Major asked studying the diagrams.
“Three-hundred, maybe more. Plus, he has a personal guard, rogues that are more dangerous than any known vampire. Recently, I discovered he has been letting many kyūketsuki feed from him, perhaps for months. His blood turns them incredibly vicious, binds them to him. They will follow him to their own deaths. Think kamikaze of the last century’s World War.”
“We could wait for daylight. Give us an advantage,” Bell suggested.
“No advantage. It is a misconception that vampires are strictly nocturnal. Old vampires can force themselves to remain awake during the day. Sadomori can do this with ease. So can his newly created rogues,” Arisada said.
“Does that also apply to you?” Major Blenheim looked at Arisada who nodded. “Hmm, quite. Very well, a night attack remains our best option. Therefore, we will need a diversion.”
The Major frowned as he studied the blueprints of the giant edifice. “I take it Sadomori expects to lure us into a trap?” Again, only a curt nod from Arisada.
Tracing his finger over the diagram of the Needle, the Major outlined an a
ssault plan. “There are two utility tunnels and a large storm drain leading into the Needle’s lowest basement. The storm drain and the west utility tunnel collapsed in the quake. Mr. Jones, we will need your expertise to clear them by the most expeditious means possible. Furthermore, to facilitate the best retreat it may be necessary to demolish the tower. Can it be done?” The Major turned to his demolition man who looked like an eager black bloodhound about to take to the trail.
Jones grinned and slapped his palm on the blueprint. “I can blow up anything, Major. Two of the tower legs are already far out of true. Joints are weakened, have thousands of integrity cracks, ground’s been unstable since the quake. Lot of fissures.” He ran a truncated finger along the diagram. “I’ll plant some timed, low-grade fusion grenades. Open them tunnels wide. Since the blasts will be coupla hundred feet under, won’t have any radiation leaks. Also, got in some radical new shit better than Semtex. Set if off here and here. As long as timing’s right, we all get out before the whole fucking thing comes down.”
“How long will you need?”
“Gimme Fornax and thirty minutes.” At the Major’s nod, Jones flashed a grin then trotted off to the armory.
“Our priority is to retrieve the virus. But I also know you are all determined to rescue Cobb.” No Leper would leave a teammate behind. “Four squads. Number one through the storm drain. The Chicago team into the west tunnel after it is cleared. Your objective is to retrieve the virus. Mr. Passebon and Mr. Galloway, take squad three through the northeast utility tunnel. Find Cobb. Saito-san and all others will accompany me in a ground assault.”
The Major’s nostrils flared almost like an old foxhound about to give chase. His thirty mercenaries against a couple of hundred vampires, not the best odds. Still, his men were the best. And, since the implementation of the indenture plan, many vampires had grown soft, unused to fighting.
“We will move out in two hours.” A few muttered “why not nows” and more than a few obscenities followed the order. Knowing how his men thirsted to take on the monster Ukita Sadomori, the Major ignored the insubordination and turned to Arisada. “Saito-san, how many kyūketsuki will follow you?”
“A dozen, perhaps a few more.” Arisada reached for his cell phone.
“Good enough. Please let me know when you are ready.” The Major grinned, not with any humor, but with a flash of excitement. “Mr. Cooperhayes, please issue the MTAR-21s. Mr. Passebon, I know you like that bow of yours, but please take a firearm.” He looked each man in the eye “Right, the odds are not good, gentlemen. But we are the best. I have every confidence in all of you.”
In the armory, each Leper checked his weapons and readied packs for a full assault. One by one, they headed for the vehicles until only Galloway and Passebon remained. The Cajun settled two bandoliers of bolts across his massive chest, and strapped a holster to his hip. “Since the Major insists, I’ll take the Eagle as backup. Gimme some of them .45 rounds.”
Galloway reached into the locker to pull out the ammo from the cage. A large hand reached over his shoulder and slammed the door closed. “Goddamn, Chain, you nearly broke my finger.” Galloway spun around to glare at his partner.
“Got something you want to share with me, mon ami?” The Cajun glowered, leaned in close, almost nose to nose. His black eyes drilled into Galloway’s azure ones blown wide in surprise.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw the look on your face when that vampire said Cobb has been snatched. You fucking the kid?”
Galloway glared into his partner’s angry face. “None of your goddamn business even if I was. But for your perverted information, I’m not doing anything with him except range practice per the Major’s orders.”
Once again, Passebon felt jealousy coil in his gut. “Pardonnez moi, was just concerned.” He pulled back, but only a fraction. Being this close, was making his body go all sorts of crazy. The I-wanna-fuck-you kind of crazy.
“Forget it,” Galloway’s resentment faded. In that same moment, he caught the deeper meaning behind his partner’s anger. Chain was freaking jealous. An impossible hope filled Kaiden Galloway. His heart climbed into his throat.
He opened the steel door again and pulled out several boxes with exaggerated care before closing the locker with a quiet, deliberate click. He handed the ammunition to the Cajun still standing by his elbow. “Partner, you know this one’s gonna be bad?”
“Oiu, mon ami, but they’ve got our little brother.” The Cajun’s voice was hoarse, his breathing tight and fast. A thin gleam of sweat beaded his brow.
Worried, Galloway stared at his partner for a few moments. Passebon had nerves of steel, reveled in every mission. Never got antsy. So why now? A scared rush of excitement thundered through Galloway. He let it take him, riding it to an uncertain, wild high. It had nothing to do with the impending fight and everything to do with his life.
“What the fuck,” the blond muttered. If he was going to die, he wanted one shot at the man he loved. He grabbed the Cajun’s shoulders in a bruising grip, spun him, face-to-face.
“Qu’est-ce tu fais?”
“Just this,” Galloway gave himself no time to think. He reached up and cupped the back of Chain’s neck, pulled him down and angled his lips hard onto that wide mouth.
Passebon thrust Galloway back. The blond’s head banged against the cabinet door, hard enough to dent it. The Cajun glared down at him. “Merde, what the fuck are you doing?’ His response was not from anger, far from it. It was from the singular, mind-blowing thrill that had rocketed through him the moment those lips touched his.
“Seizing the moment. Maybe my only chance,” Galloway’s impish grin lit his face. But his cerulean eyes held a deep, wanting plea. Chain might kick him to the curb, might never talk to him again, but he had to taste that mouth just this once. Unblinking, he looked into that onyx gaze, saw something shift, a look full of realization and wonderment.
Mon Dieu, he’s so beautiful. The thought stunned Passebon. His anger vanished in a wave of raw need. “Ah, what the fuck. At least one of us will die happy,” he muttered as he cradled his partner’s face in both large hands and fused their mouths together.
Galloway’s lips opened and Chain swept his tongue deep into that welcoming cavern. A shock of fire sizzled straight into the Cajun’s cock. He hardened but he didn’t break the kiss.
The blond felt every iota of want between them. His heart thundered against his ribs as an explosion of lust ripped into his body. He wrapped his arms around that wide back, molded his body into his partner and slaved his mouth against Chain’s. Breath, spicy and exotic, tasting slightly of cigarettes, flowed into his. He took in Passebon’s probing tongue. He ground his erection against the Cajun’s groin, let out a quiet moan of pleasure as Passebon reached down and palmed his dick. Chain had said it, if he was going to die, he would die happy.
A discreet cough shocked them into pulling apart. Unperturbed, Cooperhayes waved in the direction of the motor pool. “Gentlemen, it is time.” Then he executed a precise about-face and marched toward the waiting vehicles.
“Don’t get killed, mon ami.” Passebon shouldered the heavy ammo bag. His fingers brushed Galloway’s shoulder.
Galloway snorted, “You either, partner.”
.
Twenty-Three
A pounding headache and the urge to vomit woke Tatsu. He licked his cracked lips, gagged on the vile tang in his mouth. Everything felt distant, hazy, as if his mind was trapped in tar. Knew it had to be from some sort of tranquilizer moving its sluggish way through his body. Pain wracked his shoulders and elbows. Thick chains fastened to his wrists held him dangling from the overhead pipes. His toes dragged against the freezing, concrete floor. He was naked.
Tatsu jerked his hands against the restraints but the drugs robbed his muscles of any power. The sound of water dripping somewhere was a torturous reminder of his thirst. He pushed the need out of his mind and focused his blurry vision. In the l
ight from dozens of candles placed around him, he made out the cracked curves of a chamber that formed the juncture for two massive drainage tunnels.
Another scent overrode the smell of wax. Ukita Sadomori materialized from the dark. In one hand he held Tatsu’s swords, in the other a leather satchel, which he dropped to floor. “Finally awake, my pretty boy?”
“Fuck you,” Tatsu croaked with feeble defiance. Knew the vampire wanted something from him or else he’d be dead.
“My, my. Such crudeness from such a well-bred bishounen.” He was armed, the lethal nodachi held beneath his ornate obi. The vampire moved face in front of Tatsu.
He smiled, revealing the wet, white gleam of fang tips. “So, you are the one?” He shrugged. “I knew my Primary would desert me the moment he found the reincarnation of his pretty, little lover. No doubt, he used thrall to seduce you, neh?”
“You don’t know shit What I gave him, I gave of my own free will. Anyway, vampire thrall doesn’t affect me, you asshole,” Tatsu jeered.
The vampire laughed. “That is where you are misguided, boy. I had you from the moment you set foot in the Needle. How else can you explain why you never sensed me or my kind?” The vampire tossed Tatsu’s wakizashi to the floor with a clatter. “What were you planning to do all on your own? Did you believe I’d be so intimidated by your so-called knowledge of niten’ichi that I’d surrender?”
“It’s daytime,” Tatsu sneered.
“Baka. Do you think we all become comatose at sunrise? My special kyūketsuki are strong enough to remain awake when ordered,” he laughed. “Still, I must admit, I have not seen skill like yours in centuries. Bravo. You took Nakamura’s arm off with barely a flick of your wrist. Made him useless to me. I had to kill him.”
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