Quicksilver (The Bloodline Series Book 2)

by Gabriella Messina

  “It’s not funny. I could’ve died.”

  Sam started to laugh outright. “From sipping hot coffee?”

  Ronne sat back, wiping his chin with one of the paper napkins. He’d been letting his facial hair grow a bit, and the days of careful trimming were yielding an attractive goatee. His ice blue eyes twinkled as he winked at her. “Absolutely! People die of coffee sippage all the time.”

  “Sippage? Did you just make that up?”

  Ronne smirked. “Yeah… I think I’ve been spending too much time around you.”

  Sam chuckled as she grabbed the bag of pastries. “You have my heartfelt sympathies.” She reached in and pulled out a large jelly doughnut. “And just for that bit of snarkiness, I’m taking this one.”

  Ronne frowned. “Wench.” The frown faded quickly as he watched Sam taking an unusually large bite of the doughnut, jelly squirting out and dripping down onto the napkin below. The pair both laughed. Sam sighed as she chewed, wiping her mouth and sitting back in the booth. Her gaze drifted to the street again and she could feel herself zoning out.

  “Do I need to burn myself again?”

  Sam turned quickly, startled from her reverie. “Huh?”

  Ronne smiled, his lips pressed together tightly for a moment before he answered. “You’ve been very distracted lately. That laugh a minute ago… was the first I’ve heard you laugh in a while.” He carefully sipped his coffee. “So, tell a friend… or at least tell your partner, because I do not want you zoning out on me out there.”

  Sam sighed, using a napkin to wipe the crumbs on the table like it was her life’s work. She knew eventually he was going to want more information than he had, and as her partner Ronne deserved to know…something…

  “Listen, you don’t have to tell me now…” Ronne took another sip of coffee. “Enjoy your coffee and your doughnut and the pleasure of my company.” He winked and smiled, but the smile faded quickly as a somber look descended on his handsome face. “But we will need to talk soon. And I want you to know, to understand… no matter what it is, I’m not going to turn my back on you. Your friendship is important to me… I care about what happens to you.” He stared intently at her, and Sam felt like his icy gaze was piercing through her.

  “Your friendship is important to me, too.”

  Ronne continued to stare for a moment, then smiled broadly. “Good. And now…” He reached out, grabbing the pastry bag. “I’d better grab the other jelly doughnut before you snarf that one down to.”

  “Snarf? Hey now!” Sam laughed as she watched Ronne bite into the other doughnut, dramatically rolling his eyes in ecstasy as he did. That caused her to laugh even harder, and she was close to hiccupping when Ronne’s radio beeped. Sam tried to recover as much as she could as Ronne chuckled and answered the call. “Ronne, go ahead.”

  “Is Karolyi with you?” It was Lieutenant Martino, and he did not sound happy…at…all.

  “Yeah, she’s here.”

  “Get her down here. Now!” The radio clicked off.

  “Well…” Ronne sighed, popped the last bite of doughnut into his mouth, chewing as he grabbed his hat and stood. Sam grabbed her coffee and slid out as well. She watched as Ronne swallowed, put his hat on carefully, slipped his coat on, and donned his sunglasses. He sighed, and reached out, giving Sam a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Let’s go partner.”

  Sam nodded, feeling herself switch to autopilot as she followed him out of the coffee shop. Martino sounded strained over the radio, and Sam had that pit-of-your-stomach feeling this was not going to be good.

  **************

  NYPD 9th Precinct

  321 E. 5th St.

  Sam and Ronne never made it into the Lieutenant’s office. As soon as they walked into the precinct, they found Martino waiting in the entry. Sam noticed the man looked more harried than usual, and even before she saw their faces, she knew who was coming toward them, and had a good idea why.

  “Martino? Is this her?” Police Commissioner Stanley Chen scowled slightly as he looked at her, his frown fading slightly as a flicker of recognition passed over his face. “Yes… I remember you, Officer Karolyi. The Brooklyn Bridge incident.”

  Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Chen looked askance at the IAB rep… Sam had struggled not to look at the Rat Leader, but she felt forced to glance up, and her eyes met his cold and malice-filled gaze for only a moment, but in that moment Sam knew… knew what was coming even before Commissioner Chen started to speak.

  “Officer Karolyi, I’m going to have to ask you for your badge and your gun.”

  “Why?” Ronne started to step forward, but Martino quickly put up a staying hand.

  “I would have preferred to do this somewhere more private,” Commissioner Chen began, throwing a glare at Rat Leader. He lowered his voice slightly, stepping closer to Sam and away from Rat Leader. “I have to suspend you indefinitely pending investigation of the death of Walter Stefanovich, and reinvestigation of the events that took place six months ago, including the assault on Detective Leonidas Jackson.” He took a deep breath, glancing at Rat Leader again.

  Before Chen could continue, Rat Leader jumped in, speaking far louder than necessary as he asked, “Officer Karolyi, what happened to Walt Stefanovich’s body?”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “His body? What are you talking about?”

  Rat Leader snorted incredulously. “Oh please… He disappeared from the mortuary, nothing but a puddle of mercury mixed with plasma and unknown cells left behind.” He frowned at her, his jaw tightening as he continued. “That seems to happen a lot when you’re involved.”

  “Enough!” Commissioner Chen raised a hand in a gesture for silence, his focus turning back to Sam. “Officer? Your weapon and badge.”

  Sam fought back her tears as she quickly unbuckled her gun belt, then pulled off her badge, handing both, not to the Commissioner, but to Martino. “I need to get my things.”

  Rat Leader chimed in. “We can send them to you.”

  Commissioner Chen threw him a withering glare, but his gaze softened as he turned back to Sam. “You have ten minutes. Martino, with me!” He turned and quickly walked back toward the elevators, Rat Leader steps behind.

  Martino sighed, patted Sam on the shoulder, then turned to Ronne. “Go with her, Frank.” Ronne nodded in reply, and Martino sighed again before heading for the elevator bank.

  Sam and Ronne were silent for the entire trip to the locker room. Several officers were in there when they arrived, but everyone was silent as they entered. Sam went straight to her locker, quickly opening it and beginning the process of removing her uniform and slipping into the extra clothes she always kept for emergencies. Guess this qualified as an emergency. She pulled the leggings on, pulled the NY Giants tee shirt over her head and reached in for the sweatshirt hanging inside.

  “So…” Ronne was leaning against the end of the locker bank, his eyes fixed on the floor.

  “So.” Sam pulled the sweatshirt on, then turned her attention to the small items on the shelf in the locker. She picked out a lighter, a small yearly planner, a travel-size bottle of ibuprofen, and pocketed them, then she closed the door on the rest. Ronne moved around the corner, still leaning against the lockers and raised an eyebrow. Sam knew why, too. “Yes, I’m leaving the rest in there. I’m not in the mood to clean it out for them.” Ronne smirked and folded his arms across his chest.

  “So… you’re still not going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Sam heaved an overdramatic sigh and shook her head. “Not today, Frank.”

  Ronne nodded. “Fine. When?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam walked over to the garbage can, pulling the hairpins out of the tight bun at the back of her head and throwing them in. She shook out her hair, letting it hang loose, rubbing her scalp with a sigh. “Glad to be rid of those.”

  “You’ll be back.” Sam didn’t reply. Instead, she turned quickly and headed for the door. Ronne’s smirk faded fast and he follo
wed her. “Sam? You will be back.”

  Sam paused at the door before she looked back at him, and smiled. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”

  Sam fairly flew out of the room, taking the stairs to speed her descent and hoping Ronne wouldn’t decide to follow her and continue the conversation, partly because she didn’t have a whole lot of answers she could give him, and partly because if he kept talking to her, she knew she was going to start crying.

  She could see the door ahead, the exit to the street outside and an opportunity to let all these tears out as soon as she found a suitable spot.

  “Hey Sam!” Sam pulled up short. The usual afternoon clerk wasn’t behind the desk… instead Chris Connolly’s smiling face greeted her.

  “Hey…” Connolly continued, motioning for her to come closer. Sam walked over, leaning on the counter. “Sorry about…well… rats always get theirs, right?” Connolly was quiet for a moment as a pair of officers walked by, then she leaned in again. “Listen, there was a guy in here looking for you…Irish, hot… He didn’t leave a name, but said you should get in touch with him, that you know how.”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know how. Thanks, Chris.”

  “And hey...” Connolly took out a slip of paper and wrote quickly as she spoke. “I’ve found out some more stuff about that PERV-E. Interesting stuff.” She slid the paper across to Sam, a phone number written on it. “Give me a call…and we’ll talk.”

  “Will do. Thank you.” Sam pocketed the number quickly and headed for the door.

  “Hang tough, girl!” Connolly raised her voice, loud enough that several officers in the area looked a bit uncomfortable. What she said next made them look even more uncomfortable. “Remember, rats always get theirs!”

  Chapter 23

  Battery Park Esplanade

  After Sam left the “9,” she’d walked in a kind of trance, crossing streets and passing buildings, numerous Duane Reade® drug stores, and a brace of her fellow cops in their usual spot near Trinity Church. She slowed a bit after that, taking a quick turn toward the Freedom Tower and World Financial Center.

  A few minutes later she was walking on the Esplanade, her steps slowing to more of a stroll as she ran her hand along the railing and looked out at the spot where the Hudson River met up with New York Harbor. Sam paused, leaning on the railing, the Merchant Marine statue rising out of the river in front of her. She lit a cigarette and quietly smoked, watching as the evening sun illuminated Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, even as the shadows grew behind her. Evening was rolling in, and Sam shivered, the chill of the air beginning to penetrate her heavy sweatshirt. She tossed her cigarette butt, shoved her hands into the large pocket of the sweatshirt… and froze.

  Sam could feel the eyes on her, watching her. Only a pair, she guessed, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she scented. Sam exhaled, parting her lips just enough to allow air to rush in when she inhaled. She breathed deeply, the air rushing into both her nose and mouth, over her tongue… She could taste the water, slightly salty and tainted… She could taste the hotdogs being sold outside the Staten Island Terminal, and her stomach growled noisily… and she could taste…him… Her blood went cold and Sam couldn’t control the shiver that raced through her body. Luckily, she could cover it believably because of the cold weather, but in truth she was afraid… and being afraid with John Prutzmann this close was not a good thing. The last time they had seen each other, she was in the throes of her conversion, on the cusp of transformation, and gushing pheromones like crazy, and Prutzmann’s gaze hadn’t exactly been cordial and non-threatening. More like angry and lustful. Sam knew she didn’t have the physical strength to fight him off if he decided to attack her, but a second scenting brought a scent to her she didn’t expect… and the chill of fear disappeared almost immediately.

  Prutzmann smelled of fear, and of a woman… a woman who smelled a lot like Vincent.

  “Nice night, eh?” Sam turned slightly as Prutzmann stepped toward her. He had his hands casually in the pocket of his top coat, his suit perfectly tailored, his dress shoes shined.

  “Mhmm… You know, I have to hand it to you Nazi werewolves… you sure know how to dress.”

  Prutzmann chuckled, the smile a genuine one has he leaned against the railing a few feet from her. “Well, you know what they say… clothes make the man. Or in this case the werewolf.” He looked at her closely, a slight flare in his light eyes the only indicator that he was affected by her pheromones. “You look…well.”

  “Thanks.” Sam turned around, leaning her back against the rail as she took out another cigarette. She glanced at Prutzmann, then held up the pack. “Would you like one?”

  He held up the e-cig in his hand. “Trying to quit, but thank you.” Sam felt his eyes fixed on her as she lit her cigarette and enjoyed the first puff. Prutzmann looked at his e-cig for a moment, then back at the cigarette in her hand.

  Sam chuckled and moved closer, the pack in her outstretched hand. “Go ahead… John, isn’t it?”

  Prutzmann smirked and nodded. He pocketed the e-cig and reached out, taking the offered cigarette as well as the light that Sam offered. He inhaled deeply, a look of relaxation and contentment washing over his face as he exhaled. “That… brings back memories.”

  “That can be good and bad.”

  Prutzmann squinted at her. “I suppose.” He ran a hand through his longish blond hair and turned to stare out at the water. “All depends on how you look at things. How you interpret things.”

  “So… did you follow me down here to have a philosophical discussion, or is there something you want?”

  Prutzmann’s eyebrows shot up. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

  Sam shrugged. “I’m cold and I want to go home. What do you want?”

  Prutzmann sighed, enjoying the final bit of his cigarette before tossing the butt into the river. “Your little venture into the underground did not go unnoticed. People higher up took… steps… so you would understand there are consequences to your actions.”

  “If you mean getting me suspended, yeah, I know.”

  “Then, I don’t have to tell you to be careful in your prying.” Prutzmann suddenly stepped closer, leaned closer, before he continued. “If you go too far, if they decide that you’re too much of a threat, it will be open season on you, and no one can protect you… Not Hudson… Not Vincent.”

  “I think they’ve underestimated Vincent.”

  Prutzmann chuckled. “Vincent is far to busy trying to stay alive to worry about you, sweetheart. They are hunting him like the dog he is, and they’ll get him, too.” His eyes took on a far-away look. “You can’t run forever.”

  Sam exhaled, tossing the butt of her own cigarette into the river. “Why share this juiciness with me? It’s not like we’re friends.”

  “We could be.”

  Sam studied Prutzmann for a long moment… the impassive look on his face, his stance… He was relaxed, and yet… something was off…

  “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. And so will Vincent. I’ll see to that.”

  Prutzmann smirked again, his expression of amusement rankling Sam. “Oh really? How is that?”

  “Because I killed Diane Weber… I killed the Alpha female…” She saw him flinch momentarily when she spoke Weber’s name, recovering quickly.

  “And?” He looked at her, his amusement unmasked. Sam hesitated, unsure for a split second… until it came to her… she knew exactly what to say…

  “And when the time is right, and I call for them… the wolves will come to me.”

  Prutzmann chuckled softly, but he left moments later, politely bidding her goodnight and hurrying away down the Esplanade. Sam began to make her own way home, her curiosity now piqued… Why would Prutzmann come to warn her off? It was an almost protective gesture, and there was certainly no love lost between them. Even his revealing that Vincent was being hunted, something Sam had secretly suspected as being the root cause of his strange behavior, was, we
ll… helpful. Sam wondered as she walked quickly across Broadway and made a beeline for the subway station… Could Prutzmann have some loyalty to Vincent because of his sister? Is that why they didn’t kill each other in the parking garage six months ago? Or was there something else going on… something inherently “wolfie” that Sam had yet to figure out? When she had spoken of calling the wolves, there had been something in his eyes… amusement, to be sure, but something else as well…

  Fear.

  John Prutzmann was afraid… of her.

  Chapter 24

  New York Public Library

  5th Avenue & 42nd Street

  As she sat on the steps next to the lion statue known as “Patience,” Sam knew she was anything but a model of that virtue. After a restless night filled with tears and more of those R-rated dreams featuring a certain tall, dark and deadly werewolf, Sam had awoken with a plan and promptly called Chris Connolly. Luckily, the other woman had the day off and had agreed to meet Sam at the library for some research. Sam was starting early, whizzing through search engines and news sites on her phone, bookmarking here and there as she went so that the addresses were saved. Names and dates, places and organizations had flashed by during this high-speed search, but Sam had picked out enough along the way to give her goose bumps and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  It was bad. Sure, that sounded generic, but right now Sam couldn’t think of a word that was more appropriate, simple as it was. The “Bund Rally” beneath the reservoir had included some noteworthy people, but as she began to see the role these people were playing in city and state politics, business and finance, education and the civil services, Sam’s blood ran cold.

  According to the articles and video she was sifting through, Sam was not the only person whose life had been transformed in the past six months. A few weeks after Sam’s accident last September, Brooklyn Councilwoman Donna Strong had found herself pushed into the limelight. The popular community leader had had a relatively low profile other than in her own district, but when the Democratic candidate for the congressional seat died tragically in a car accident on the LIE, Strong was tapped to run in his place. With barely a month to campaign, Strong rose in the polls like mercury in a thermometer (heh) and election night in November found her issuing what had been dubbed by the media as “one of the most moving victory speeches of the 21st century.”