The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two)

by Leo Romero

  She'd have to. Have to pull off some moves. She huffed and then pressed herself up against the glass once more. She found a small groove between the window panes and crammed her fingers into it and curled them around, giving her some purchase. She then released her right foot from the gap between the ledge and the pane and held it out behind her. She then sucked in a breath and held it as she began raising her right foot up toward her shoulder slow and steady, sliding it up the glass pane ahead of her. She kept the rest of her body as still as possible, not daring even to flinch for fear of losing her precarious balance and plummeting to her doom, her eyes fixed on that foot as it rose. Higher. Higher. She watched it like it was a rabid dog about to attack, unblinking.

  Slowly, slowly, Trixie, she said to herself. Don't mess up!

  Her knee reached her chest and anticipation rose inside her belly. She was close, tantalizingly close to where she wanted her leg to be, but if she went too fast, she risked losing balance. "Come on, come on," she whispered, watching her leg rise like a hawk, wishing she could speed up time. Her thigh muscles twitched once they hit the unnatural angle, but she withstood the strain. It wasn't new to her. She winced but kept going, feeling the stretch.

  Her foot rose high into the sky like the morning sun. Her eyeballs rolled upward alongside it until they met the ever-lightening sky. Finally, she reached the full stretch, her mind swimming with disbelief. Vertical splits on the side of a frickin' skyscraper had to be some kind of world record.

  "Another one broken," she said to herself with a hint of irony.

  She blessed her supple nature, her years, and years of training, her daily dedication to remaining in tip top condition to allow her to perform the impossible.

  I should've joined the circus.

  She allowed herself a brief sigh of relief. She was right where she wanted to be. She focused on her boot; the tied laces were now dangling down. She readjusted her grip as best she could and then, with a trembling hand, she took hold of a lace and eked it out of its knot. The lace slipped out nice and smooth, the knot untying with minimal effort. Good job no one ever taught her how to tie laces properly.

  The laces flopped down and dangled there. The boot was untied. Job done. She paused, holding her leg where it was, a slight ache developing in her thigh muscles. Just a little longer, girl, just a little longer. Hold on!

  She sucked in as deep a breath she dared, her grip on the windowpane still holding true, her hand throbbing with intensity. She closed her eyes for a moment to reset, then opened them again, fixing them on that boot. She reached up, grabbed the sole at the heel and began to yank from side-to-side with tiny mouse-like movements, her cheek and chest pressed up against that window pane for dear life.

  "Come on, come on..." she cooed to that boot, willing it to come away from her foot. She held on, shifting the boot from side-to-side, easing it off her foot. "Come on, come on, come on."

  A slight wind picked up and brushed against her skin. "Come on! Come on!" she urged, doing her best to ignore the wind. "Come on!"

  The boot then came away from her heel and she gasped. She pushed herself into the glass even harder, her cheek completely flattened against it like a piece of kneaded dough. She regained her balance, now holding her boot in the air above her bare foot, which was getting colder by the second. She gave her toes a brief wiggle before she began lowering her leg back down to her side. The ache that had built up in her thigh gradually released as her leg returned to its natural position. It inched back down like a rusty lever before finally, her toes with just a sock protecting them touched the ledge. Without hesitation, she dug her bootless foot into the gap between the small ledge and the glass pane alongside her booted one. She then pulled her free arm in fast and hard, pushing the sole of the boot into the window.

  Her chest then released. "Thank God that went well," she gasped, now feeling more secure than with her leg up above her shoulder.

  Holding the boot in place against the glass, she maneuvered her hand up and into the space between the collar and tongue, using her fingers as legs, and her palm as a stopper. She managed to slip her hand all the way inside; now she wore the boot on the end of her arm as if her hand was her foot. Remaining with her cheek pressed against the glass, she levered her arm back and thrust it forward, the sole of the boot hitting the window. There was a dull thud as it bounced harmlessly off the glass and that was all. She repeated the procedure, this time exerting more force. The sole of the boot thudded against the glass, causing it to tremble.

  "Come on," she urged before trying again. The boot clanged against the glass, sending terrifying reverberations back through her. She managed to keep her cool. Drawing a deep breath, she brought the boot back behind her again and thrust it forward, her cheek still plastered all over the glass. "Come on!"

  It banged hard on the window, but the pane held firm.

  She closed her eyes, just as the wind picked up again. It cut into her side like an invisible arm attempting to peel her off and whisk her away into the ether. She closed her eyes tight and held on for dear life, ice-cold tears streaming down her cheeks in rivulets. The wind grew stronger and she thought it was the end. Oh my God, I'm going to die! I'm going to die!

  She cried more, the panic and dread violating her, the wind howling in her ears like hungry wolves. She tightened her grip as much as she could despite the pain in her hand. The wind continued to rage at her; it laughed at her, mocking her. It wanted to scupper her plans, wanted to pick her up and send her to a faraway land of darkness.

  She pushed her body into the window, becoming it. The wind continued to push against her with its icy hands. She shut her eyes tight and imagined she was under the covers of her bed; safe and sound. A place where nothing could touch her, nothing could harm her. In her own haven, in a place where nothing could get to her. No place like home, there's no place like home, she repeated in her mind like a mantra. There's no place...

  The wind roared through her ears and she let out a panicked scream, her eyes still closed tight, fear-riddled tears blown off her cheeks and frittered away into the atmosphere. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked. "Leave me alone!"

  No, I won't leave you alone, the wind sneered in reply. I wanna pick you up and whisk you away and take you to a place of peace and dreams. Come with me. Come with me. Take my hand and we'll go together. We'll be together. Come with me.

  Her grip on the window pane begin to loosen, the pain in her fingers ratcheting up as the seconds ticked by.

  Come with me, come with me, the wind continued to howl.

  She was aware of her body and mind starting to slip away. It was pointless, fruitless, she didn't have the strength to withstand the pressure. It was one step too far. She was too weak.

  And why fight anyway? Why torture yourself? something in her tired mind asked; the voice of resignation. Defeat. Just let go, Trixie. Just let go. It'll be quick, painless, over in an instant, let the dreamy wind whisk take us away to a better place. Relax, lie back, and let it take us on our journey to the other side. Just let go, let go, let go.

  Come with me, the wind then whispered, its voice delicate icicles crawling over her skin. Come with me.

  Her fingers slipped out further. A little more and it would all be over.

  Just let go, Trixie. Stop fighting. Just let go. Let us go!

  Come with me, the wind incessantly chimed. Come with me, come with me, come with me, comewithmecomewithme.

  She was on the brink, the point of no return was fast approaching. She saw a river flowing, a boat bobbing on its surface, taking her to a better place. A place of peace, not this suffering. All she had to do was take a ride to the other side.

  Come with me.

  "No place like home, no place like home," she mumbled to herself, her lips cracked with cold.

  Come with me.

  "No place like ho----"

  Let go, that voice of defeat demanded. Just let go. LET GO!

  Her eyes snapped open. "NO!" she screame
d as hard as she could against the howling wind. Her mind zoned back in; staring back at her was her reflection in the tinted glass. A sudden rush of anger engulfed her. She wanted to destroy that face. She threw her arm back and slammed it forward with every ounce of strength she had.

  "NO!" she screamed. The boot smashed into the window aiming at her reflection; this time there was a small cracking sound. Renewed hope triggered in her heart. She gasped with joy. Without another hesitation, she began smashing at the window as hard as she could, releasing uncontrollable, wild screams, all the while the wind pushing hard against her side, desperate to peel her off the building and send her to her doom. Her mind went into a blank haze of chaos; she knew she was teetering on the brink, her wild movements could send her falling back, or the wind could whisk her off the ledge any instant. She was caught in a moment of bedlam, of everything being in the lap of the gods. A moment where she no longer cared what was going to happen next for good or bad. A moment of just freaking do it!

  She brought her hand back again and thrust the boot forward with a horrendous wailing scream that burned her vocal chords. "Come on! Come on! Break!" she screeched, her voice drowned out by the whistling wind. "Break!"

  Her fingers were fast slipping out of the groove as they finally lost their purchase. Any second and they'd come totally unstuck and she'd lose her balance and go flying off into the dawn to become a bloodstain on the sidewalk below. She continued her wild thrashing against the window regardless, her head drunk with terror and vertigo.

  "Come on! Break! Break! BREAK!"

  And then it did. The window smashed inwards under the pressure; her momentum took her in alongside it, just as her fingers slipped wholly out of the groove. She fell into the room beyond, jagged shards digging into her from all angles. She hit the wooden floor with an agonized groan. A sudden rush of emotion juddered through her, causing her whole body to quiver. She wanted to cry, to shout, to breathe deep sighs of relief, all at once and her mind didn't know which way to turn because she was in immediate danger. She had to ignore the culmination of the previous five minutes and get to her feet and hide. Now!

  She pushed her stinging hands against the floor and propelled herself to her feet, tiny fragments of glass raining off her, the rushing wind blowing at her back, gooseflesh tearing across her skin. She spun her head left and right, up, down, her senses on red alert. Any moment and she'd be stormed on by vamps. Her eyes found the perfect hiding spot. Her instincts tweaked. And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Sammy checked his watch. "Ten minutes are up, boss," he stated.

  Leviah sighed. He pointed a languid finger toward Dom. "Chop his hand off," he casually uttered.

  Dom gasped in horror. "No, you really don't need to do that."

  "My pleasure, boss," Sammy said with a grin as he grabbed an ornamental dagger from a nearby desk. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  "Leviah, if you harm any of us, then you'll have violated the terms of the pact," Vincent reminded him in a harried voice, attempting to defuse the escalating situation.

  "The pact's long dead, Slayer," Leviah retorted. "Actually, on second thoughts, Sammy, cut off both of his hands."

  "Even better!" Sammy exclaimed with glee as he scurried over to Dom's chair.

  Dom tried with all his might to break his binds, the veins in his neck standing out like chord. He was stuck tight.

  "Where ya gonna go, Dom?" Sammy asked, a sick grin spreading across his face as he ran the blade along his thumb. He stepped behind Dom's seat.

  "Vincent!" Dom said half in hope, half in desperation.

  "Leviah! I demand you call your lapdog off! Trixie is on her way!"

  "Too late for that, Slayer," Leviah said with a flip of his hand. "Carry on, Sammy."

  "Whatever you say, boss." Sammy bent down, grabbed Dom's tied wrists and held them in place. Dom shrieked. He struggled like a fish caught on a line, but it was pointless.

  "Stay still!" Sammy snapped.

  The cold steel of the blade then touched Dom's wrist. His eyes bulged. "NO!" he screamed.

  "Say hi to Mr. Pain," Sammy said with a chuckle as he applied pressure to the blade.

  An abrupt smash of glass from somewhere nearby severed the chaos; everything went silent. They all turned in unison to face the backroom from where the noise came.

  Leviah met Sammy's confused stare; he nodded toward the door leading to the back room.

  Sammy stood upright. "Lucky you," he said to Dom, giving him a small slap on his head. Sammy went for the door to the backroom, leaving Dom alone.

  Dom collapsed in his seat in relief.

  Leviah got to his feet; Sammy led him to the door to the backroom. On reaching it, he stopped and listened at it for a brief moment before pulling his gun from his belt. He then grabbed the door handle and swung it open; he jumped inside, aiming his gun as if expecting to be rushed by a tiger. His wide eyes took in everything. The room was as it should be; empty bar the boss' exotic objects. His eyes then fell on the broken window; that explained the sound of smashing glass. The morning sunlight was shining through the wrecked window, bathing a section of the floor. Sammy recoiled back against it; he didn't dare go near it. He breathed heavy, terrified of that square section of floor. It was hot lava, a bed of spikes. He then spotted a lone boot lying on the floor amongst the glass fragments. He gave it an angry scowl. "She's here," he stated.

  "Where?" Leviah replied, his arms outstretched.

  Sammy trained his gun around the room with caution. He locked onto a leather couch, a statue of a Hindu demon. She could be hiding anywhere. She was sly; a rat, a trickster. She could be watching them right now without them even knowing. Leviah turned his head left and right, his stare arcing across the whole room.

  "Come out, Trixie!" Sammy said out loud. "You can't escape. We got you cornered." He paused, his eyes rolling left and right. He was greeted by silence, bar the sound of the wind whistling through the broken window. Glass tinkled along the wooden floor. "Come out, Trixie!" Sammy repeated, his grip on his gun now trembling. With small steps, he backed up, not wanting to be in that room any more. "There's nowhere to run, Trixie. You're trapped. We got guys all over this building!" He ushered Leviah back out into the main chamber as he spoke. They both left the backroom, Sammy taking backward steps, his gun still pointing at thin air. He entered the main chamber where Leviah was already waiting, hands on hips.

  "Well, where is she?" Leviah asked in an exasperated voice.

  Sammy shrugged. "I dunno!"

  Trixie crawled across the metal grating of the ceiling, the sound of voices below guiding her out of the backroom and into the main chamber. She hoped Sammy didn't notice the missing ceiling panel she punched up and across when she first jumped up to it from the leather couch. If he did, he'd know where she'd vanished to. By the sound of things, he had no clue where she could've gone.

  She grabbed hold of the metal grating and pulled herself along, easing past all the wires and dust, spreading herself out so she didn't apply too much pressure on the panels between the lines of metal grid. Through tiny cracks here and there of misaligned panels, she could see slivers of what was going on below. Sammy was searching the back room while another person (Leviah?) was waiting in the doorway. While she had them confused, she grabbed her remaining dart gun and pulled out the magazine. She prayed that the one she lost back there was her tranq gun. She gazed at the darts lined up in the magazine with eager eyes. In the scant light, she could see they were colored green. Tranqs.

  "Shit," she hissed, her worst fear coming true. She'd dropped her holy water gun, which was equipped with her only full mag. It meant she only had that one holy water dart left. One dart; two vamps. She had to play it right.

  She pushed the holy water mag with its one remaining dart up into her dart gun. She had one shot.

  "One's all I'll need," she whispered to herself.

  She got moving again, crawling past them both toward the adjoinin
g room, where she guessed they had Dad and Dom. She slid beneath an AC vent like an eel, excitement rising inside her. She was in the final straight, and it was all downhill from here.

  She crawled along further, the tips of her toes touching the metal grid, taking extra caution not to plant them on the more delicate panels between. She made it to the center of the vast chamber when voices rose up from below. It was Sammy again; he'd returned to the other room. Trixie paused and waited. Out of a tiny sliver to her left she could make out someone strapped to a chair, gray hair on view. Dad!

  Her heart began to race. She was there. Now all she had to do was make an entrance. A timely entrance.

  "Well, where is she?" a booming voice asked. Leviah.

  "I dunno!" came Sammy's feeble reply.

  Trixie got an audio scope on where they were both standing. She crawled on a bit further. Then stopped. Waited. Waited for them to make a move. Come on, come on, she urged them. Get into position.

  "Well find her, you fool!" Leviah boomed.

  Through a tiny crack on her right, Trixie could see his giant feet. From where their voices emanated, it meant Sammy was on her left.

  She placed her fingers along the edges of a panel just ahead of her; she eased it up and shifted it across. She then took a peek out of the hole. Both vamps came into view; they were directly below her. If she was quick, she could take one of them down. She reached for her holy water gun with one remaining dart. She could only remove one from the game; it would be impossible to take out the other without holy water. She had to pick wisely. She really wanted to take out Leviah, but he was unarmed. Sammy was packing a handgun; it made more sense to eliminate that danger first.

  She poked the barrel of her dart gun over the edge of the hole and aimed the muzzle at Sammy's head. She closed her eye and tongued her bottom lip. Careful, Trixie, she told herself. Careful.

  She steadied herself then--

  Leviah's feet shifted from her view; he headed back toward where Dad was seated. Sammy then moved away from her too.