The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two)

by Leo Romero

  Vincent continued regardless. "Now, as for this relic you speak of, I have no idea what happened to it." He shook his head and shrugged. "It might well still be at Drake's nest. On the other hand, he himself may have misplaced it. But, I can categorically state that I am not privy to its whereabouts. So, if you'd please, let me go and leave Trixie and Dom alone."

  Leviah slammed his empty glass down, remnants of blood at the base shooting up into the air. "Enough with your lies, Slayer!" he raged. He jumped to his feet and stormed across the floor like a juggernaut. Vincent's eyes bulged as the raging inferno bolted his way. Leviah threw out his arms, grabbing Vincent by the shoulders, making him gasp. Leviah's mouth became cavernous; his huge fangs gleamed. Vincent's chest seized up as Leviah threw his head down toward his throat.

  Vincent's breathing came to a halt.

  And so did Leviah. Centimeters from Vincent's neck. Vincent could feel his icy breath on his neck. His blood ran cold.

  "You will tell me where it is," Leviah said in a low rumble of a voice. "If it takes a day, a year, a century, you will return it."

  Vincent managed to remain calm. "You know very well that even if a drop of my blood gets in your veins you'll perish, Leviah," he reminded him, his mouth dry. "Go ahead. Try some."

  "All in good time, Slayer," Leviah whispered, his breath ice cold on Vincent's neck.

  Vincent's chest seized.

  Leviah then threw himself back pushing Vincent away. Vincent's chair rocked backward, then fell forward again. Vincent jerked. After a brief to and fro, the chair became still once more. His chest released; he began breathing deep. For a moment, he'd been convinced Leviah was actually going to bite him.

  Instead, Leviah whirled and headed for the giant tinted windows surrounding them. He stopped ahead of them and stared longingly out of the window, his fists clenching and unclenching on the air. Out of the window, the midday sun was a big, blotted dot, its power muted by the glass.

  Vincent fixed his gaze on Leviah. He was acting irrationally; Vincent knew he was losing his mind. The relic had some kind of power over him, something he'd been unaware of until now. He needed it close by, Vincent now realized. He knew exactly what the relic was and why Leviah was so desperate to get it back. But, Vincent had no intention of handing it over. It was one of the five pieces of Moroz he'd been trying so hard to capture for so long with no success. And now that one of them had fallen right into his lap, there was no way he was going to just give it up. No way.

  He watched Leviah with keen interest, nodding his head in a knowing manner. Things had transpired purely by chance; Drake managing to steal the relic, Dom killing Drake and inadvertently handing the relic to Vincent. It was all luck, fate. A sequence of events completely out of anybody's control; him, the Order, Leviah. Nothing could have predicted it nor set it all in motion other than blind luck.

  Yes, my dear Leviah, Vincent thought to himself. Even with all of your control mechanisms, surveillance apparatus, hired thugs and paid spies, you still cannot stop the simple things from occurring and then those simple things from snowballing into something larger, out of your control. You cannot stop fate, no matter how hard you try. And that was what Vincent always banked on in this war. Fate. The unforeseeable, the unpredictable, the unstoppable, the unknowable. Fate; faith was his ally.

  Inside, Vincent smiled to himself. Leviah was losing. And they both knew it.

  He just prayed that Trixie and Dom could make it out of Leviah's trap alive. He'd have to hold on; he had the Eye, which gave him the upper hand. Now, it was just down to Trixie.

  Vincent watched Leviah raise his clenched fists high above his head and thump the glass with a dull thud; it trembled under the impact. He then spun, and without setting eyes on Vincent again, stormed out of the chamber, leaving his captive alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Dom pulled into the mansion once more, coming to a stop near the front entrance. Night had fallen, but was still in its infancy. Above them, the stars twinkled like glitter.

  Trixie jumped out of the passenger seat and went inside for a brief moment. The front security light then came on, lighting the whole area up. She came back out and lounged around outside the mansion, her cell in her hand. She watched the front entrance to the estate with anxious eyes.

  Dom got out and went and stood next to her. He huffed. "What exactly are we waiting for?" he asked, worried about the unconscious Blacklake out back.

  "The cavalry," Trixie stated.

  "The cavalry?" Dom echoed. "We got cavalry?"

  "We sure do."

  A gray Mini with tinted windows then came rolling into the estate.

  "Right on cue," Trixie said on seeing it.

  Dom stared at the Mini nonplussed. He watched on as it came to a halt a few feet away. The engine died and the driver's door swung open. Out stepped a lady in a black turtle neck; auburn hair, slightly curled at the ends, hung over her shoulders. Her face was ashen, causing her deep brown eyes to appear even deeper. She reminded Dom of the middle-aged version of Agent Scully from The X-Files. She strode up to them with an air of elegance and confidence, taking lazy puffs on an e-cig. She looked almost shadow-like as she moved. Dom stared at her in confusion as she approached. This is the cavalry?

  "Thanks for coming so quick," Trixie said as Scully made it up to them both.

  "No biggie, Trixie," she replied in a delectable, sultry English accent, vapor flitting out between her lips. Even when she spoke, her voice was in shadow. "I was in the area." She stopped short of them. She looked Dom up and down, taking another puff on her e-cig. "Who's the jock?" she asked Trixie.

  Dom's face pinched. Jock?

  "Dom. This is the Wolff."

  Dom frowned in confusion. "The Wolff?" he echoed.

  "Miranda Wolff," she said, holding out her hand. "At your service."

  Dom took it and shook it.

  Trixie shrugged. "That's just what she calls herself. She cleans up any mess we make doing our job. And she doesn't ask questions."

  "Only if there aren't any to ask," she said without a hint of a smile, and Dom didn't know if she was kidding or not.

  "Well, usually we don't make much mess, but now and then..."

  Miranda looked around. "Where's Vincent?" she asked.

  Trixie looked down. "He's gone."

  "What do you mean gone?"

  Trixie grabbed her forehead. "I mean not here, but somewhere else."

  "Very vague, Trixie. What's the story here?"

  "You better come out back," Trixie replied.

  Miranda shrugged. "Okay, let's have a look."

  Dom and Trixie rushed toward the mansion.

  Miranda frowned. "What's the rush?"

  They didn't answer. Instead, they ran for the back entrance. Miranda huffed before following up as fast as she could, her boots clacking on the marble floor, still taking puffs on her e-cig as she went.

  Miranda slowed as she laid eyes on the broken back doors and the bodies all over the patio outside. "My my, what have you kids been up to?" she asked, as she stepped out onto the patio to join Dom and Trixie.

  "It wasn't us," Dom replied as he grabbed up a merc's radio from the ground and stuffed it in his pocket. Any chatter could give them more clues to what was going on.

  Miranda stepped over some broken glass and then stopped dead. 'Blimey, what the bejeezus happened here?" she asked, gazing at the unconscious bodies around her.

  "The party got a little too wild," quipped Trixie.

  "I'll say." Miranda looked about her with concerned eyes. "Erm, these look suspiciously like Blacklake."

  Trixie shrugged. "That's cause they are Blacklake, Miranda."

  Miranda turned her head to the side, her face pinching in a frown. "Ooh, that's Black Ops stuff, Trixie. Out of my territory, I'm afraid. Are they dead or unconscious?"

  "Come on, Miranda. You know we don't kill people."

  "Unconscious then." She continued to gaze at the prone bodies around her, puf
fing on her e-cig. "So what exactly were these lovely blokes doing here?"

  "They came for Dad. We think they're looking for something."

  "And what would that be?"

  "We don't know, but we'll find out."

  Miranda let out a small huff. "This is a frightful mess, Trixie. This is big."

  "Yeah, it is. That's why we need your help, Miranda." Trixie gave Miranda a sincere, wide-eyed stare.

  Miranda met her gaze. After a second or two, she appeared to cave. "Okay, Trixie. But Vincent will owe for me for this one!"

  A grin broke out on Trixie's face. "When we get him back, I'll let him know!"

  "You better." Miranda took a languid puff on her e-cig, her eyes not leaving the nearest merc. Through the mist of vapor spilling from her mouth and behind her dark eyes, Dom could see her mind ticking over.

  "How long does the tranq last?" Miranda then asked.

  "A few hours," Trixie told her.

  Miranda nodded. "Good. That gives us enough time."

  Trixie's eyes lit up. "You got a plan?"

  Miranda turned to face her. "Darling, I've always got a plan. Which is why you call me when things go belly up." She took another puff on her e-cig. "You wouldn't happen to have a van on the premises would you?"

  "There's a Sun van in the garage," Trixie told her. "Dad sometimes uses it to bring home his weird collector's items."

  "Sounds just the job." She replaced her e-cig in her pocket. "Now, what is it this lot are after?"

  Trixie led them to the secret door at the back of the staircase. "This is Trixie," she said into the voice modulator. A beep went off and the panel slid open, exposing the staircase beyond. "Whatever it is they want from Dad is down here," she said as she began her descent. "Good job these guys were too dumb to find it."

  She led them down into the lab. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stood hands on hips and looked around. Everything seemed to be as normal. She then headed for the secret room and repeated the phrase 'This is Trixie' into the voice modulator. The door slid open and she slipped inside, Dom and Miranda following up. Trixie marched straight past all the shelves of amalgamated fangs toward the safe on the far wall.

  Miranda looked about her in slack-jaw wonder. "Golly. So that's why he's known as the Dentist."

  Dom gave her a knowing nod.

  "Yep. Creepy ain't it?" Trixie said over her shoulder, her gaze fixed on the safe.

  "I'll say," Miranda responded in a stupefied daze.

  "Dad said something about an item in the safe. Pretty sure it's in here. Whatever it is or why it's valuable to Dad or the Order is anyone's guess." She then pulled out her cell and began swiping the screen. "Dad sent me the combination. Here it is." She then began turning the dial on the safe while Dom and Miranda waited in anticipation.

  "Must be something big for all this fuss," Miranda suggested, as Trixie dialed.

  "Gold?" Dom proposed.

  "Maybe diamonds," Miranda countered.

  "We're rich!" Dom said with a grin.

  Trixie got the combination in and the lock clicked open. The door came ajar. She took a breath, and then swung the door fully open. They all craned their necks in the space beyond, their eyes wide with eagerness.

  Sitting inside was a lonely pebble-like item, brown and not quite round.

  A sense of anti-climax set into the local atmosphere.

  "Well, that's a disappointment," Miranda declared.

  "Is that it?" Trixie asked, her top lip curled up.

  Dom frowned as he stared at it. "What the hell is it?" he asked, moving his hand toward it.

  Trixie slapped his hand. "No! Don't touch it!" she snapped.

  Dom's hand recoiled. "Ow!" he moaned, rubbing it. He stared at Trixie with hot eyes. "What's got into you?"

  "I just think it's best if we leave it be," Trixie retorted.

  "Whatever," Dom said in a peeved voice.

  They all huddled their heads in toward it once more, their eyes squinted.

  "I wonder what it is," Trixie said in a quiet voice.

  "Looks like a big piece of chicken poop," Dom stated.

  "Or any kind of poop," Miranda added.

  Trixie huffed. "Whatever it is, the Order have tried to kill us, almost killed Rufus, and kidnapped Dad for it."

  "They did all that for a piece of poop?" asked Miranda.

  "It must be a special kind of poop," Trixie ascertained. She shrugged and closed the safe door. They all straightened their backs once more.

  "So, what now?" Dom asked.

  'It's still early,' replied Trixie. 'Troy won't be awake yet. Gives us a chance to get rid of our problem outside.'

  A loud crackle then sounded out, making them all spin their heads. A gruff voice broke the crackle. "Rhino Peacock. Rhino Peacock, come in."

  Dom looked down at the radio in his hand. "Rhino Peacock," it repeated.

  Dom put the radio up to his mouth. "Rhino Peacock here."

  "Update on the needle in the haystack."

  Dom met Trixie's stare. "Tell them we've found a safe in a secret room," she whispered.

  "Uh, we've found a safe inside a secret room."

  "Nice work. What's in the safe?"

  "Uh..."

  Trixie shook her head.

  "We... don't know. We'll have to crack it." Dom nodded to himself. "Yeah that's it, we'll have to crack it. Reckon it's gonna take a while to get this sucker open."

  "Foxy Knox is good at that kinda stuff."

  Dom's face pinched in bemusement. "Okay, I'll ask... Foxy Knox to get it cracked," he said with a bewildered shake of his head.

  "Get a move on!" The line then went dead.

  Trixie puffed her cheeks. "That's bought us some more time," she stated.

  "Righteo, kids," said Miranda. "I'll make a few calls to arrange disposal of all those bodies." She turned her attention to Dom. "You ready for a bit of lifting, big boy?" she asked him, giving him an elbow nudge as she spoke.

  Miranda grabbed both arms of a merc; Dom took his legs. "Ready?" Miranda asked.

  Dom nodded.

  "Lift!"

  They both strained; the thug came a few inches off the ground. They began taking pigeon steps toward the open van, grunting and panting. Dom felt like some kind of serial killer lugging bodies around his den to be dealt with, Texas Chainsaw Massacre style. The thought made him nauseous.

  "How long do they stay out for?" Miranda asked between pants.

  Dom shook his head. "Dunno."

  "So what do we do when they wake up?"

  On cue, the thug's eyes began to flutter open. Miranda's eyes widened in response. The thug then zoned in on them. "Hey!" he shouted, his head rolling.

  Dom dropped his legs; they hit the ground with a thud. He then grabbed his dart gun from his belt in a nonchalant fashion, aimed at the thug's chest, and fired. The thug gasped, then dropped back into unconsciousness. "That's what you do," Dom said and handed Miranda his dart gun. "Take it."

  Miranda reached out and took it. "Thanks," she said before stuffing it into her own trouser belt. They grabbed the thug up once more and lugged him to the van. On reaching it, they dropped him on the tail lift. While Dom dusted off his hands, Miranda pushed down the 'lift' button. The tail lift began to rise, taking the merc with it. Once level with the van floor, Dom got in and dragged him to the back.

  "Well, that's one," Miranda declared as Dom returned. Miranda then looked back at the bodies sprawled all over the patio. "Just another dozen to go..." she said with a sigh.

  They finally dragged the last of the unconscious mercs from the van to the large shipping container ready and waiting for them at the dock. They threw him in with the rest of his friends they'd already dumped inside. "Thank God that's the last one," Dom stated, wiping his brow. "I don't think my arms could take any more."

  "You're not the only one," Miranda said as she swung the container door closed; it slammed shut with an unceremonious clang. She locked it up and gave it a pat on the
side. She then turned and waved her arms up at her guy at the controls of the shipping yard's crane. Crane Guy gave them both a thumb in return before getting the machine in motion.

  "Clear the way, Dominic," Miranda said, ushering him over to the side.

  The giant magnet lowered and attached itself to the top of the container before pulling it into the air.

  "Can they breathe in there?" Dom asked Miranda as they both watched the crane hoist the container up and slowly swing it over toward the carrier waiting in the dock.

  "Don't sweat it. That particular case is fitted with all the necessary air filtration pipes."

  Crane Guy carefully placed the container down onto the carrier within a forest of similar containers; it blended in like a pine needle on the forest floor.

  "Where are these all going anyway?" Dom asked.

  Miranda shrugged. "France, I think."

  Dom waved them off. "Bon voyage, assholes," he said before giving Crane Guy a thumb up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Vincent's eyes snapped open. For a brief moment, he had no idea where he was. His neck ached from the uncomfortable position he found himself in. He winced, the strong urge to rub his neck overpowering. When he tried, he found that he couldn't move his arms, he remembered where he was. His chest collapsed in disappointment.

  "Rise and shine, Slayer," came a voice from the gloom. Leviah was back in his recliner, sipping on a glass of blood.

  Vincent groaned in displeasure. During his brief bout of sleep, he'd seen Trixie and Dom in his dreams. They were in danger. Now, he realized that was the situation in the real world. His heart ached.

  "Let me go, Leviah," he said in a cracked voice. "I don't know where your relic is. Please let me and Trixie go."

  "She is dead, Slayer," Leviah responded in an emotionless voice. "I have confirmation."

  Vincent's head dropped. His heart sunk into his stomach.

  "It is of no matter," Leviah said with a flip of his hand. "She was never your daughter, we both know that. Just another poor lost soul you've dragged to her doom."