Vampire Uprising

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  “It’s about why we’re here in your country,” Tobar said from Cole’s side of the car.

  Not only hadn’t Cole heard the other man approach, but he hadn’t seen a single shadow to announce the Amriany’s presence. Rico snapped his arm up to point the Sig Sauer across Cole’s face toward the window, proving he’d been just as surprised.

  “I wouldn’t advise you sneakin’ up on me like that again, Gypsy boy,” Rico said.

  Tobar’s stocky build filled a good portion of Cole’s window. He grinned to display his missing section of teeth as he replied, “It speaks a lot that it was so easy to sneak up on you. And if you speak the word Gypsy as if it was a curse again, I will shoot you both through this door.”

  Cole leaned over just enough to see the .357 in Tobar’s hand. “He’s got us there,” he said while settling back into his seat.

  Despite the gun in Rico’s hand, Tobar kept talking as if he was ordering lunch from a familiar menu. “Your country has been exporting Kintalaphi and we have traced them here.”

  “At first we thought they had come from your prala Lancroft,” Gunari said from the driver’s seat. “But there are too many of them and they are too old for this to be the case.”

  “I thought you only came here to steal from Lancroft,” Rico said. “What’s with all the jet setting?”

  The rear window of the other car came down again so Drina could say, “Our stolen belongings have been scattered to every corner of this country. And you call us thieves?”

  “No. I called you Gypsies.”

  Tobar’s expression remained unchanged as the menacing tap of a gun barrel against the outside of the car filled Cole’s ears.

  Compared to Tobar’s movements a few seconds ago, Nadya practically announced her exit from the car with a marching band. She slammed her door, stomped around the rear of the vehicle and marched straight over to the Amriany that wielded the .357. “You know better than this,” she said to Tobar. “The Americans always goad us. It’s what they do.”

  Rico shrugged in a comically apologetic fashion.

  “And you,” Nadya continued while bending down to glare through Cole’s window, “should have better things to do than pick a fight. We came here because you asked us, remember? We had plenty to do in Texas when your friend here convinced us to come to the mountains instead. Tell us why we should help you or we’ll drive away and continue doing our own work.”

  “First of all,” Cole said, “if you guys are gonna shoot each other, could you at least wait for me to switch seats?” When Rico laid the Sig Sauer back on his lap, Cole could only assume the nod from Tobar meant the .357 had also found its home. “And second, what’s a kin-talapia?”

  “Kintalaphi” Tobar said in an accent that had been lifted from every Frankenstein movie to come out of Universal Studios’ golden age. “It’s—”

  “It’s their word for a multiseeded Nymar,” Rico cut in. “You know, like Tara and Hope?” Running his fingers in straight lines along both sides of his face, he looked out to the Amriany on Cole’s side of the car and asked, “Ain’t that right?”

  Tobar nodded. “We have many reasons to come to your country. Many possessions to reclaim. Until now we were willing to let you squabble over our trinkets while the Nymar picked you apart. Now that the Kintalaphi are spreading, we must come to make sure it goes no further.”

  “Ain’t that nice, Cole?” Rico asked. “They’re here to lend us a hand.”

  “It is not our concern if all Skinners will probably be killed in the war to come. We are only here to make sure the blood does not spill too far beyond your own shores.”

  Sitting up straight, Cole asked, “What war?”

  “The one that has already started,” Nadya replied. “The weapons have been collected for generations by killers like Jonah Lancroft, put to use by demons like the Kintalaphi. To make matters worse we—like your common people and your police—are being manipulated by the Nymar. This must end.”

  Tobar nodded solemnly. “Before long we may become as blind and ignorant as you.”

  Rico wasn’t about to bite on the worm being dangled in front of him. “So you guys got anything to share?” he asked. “Sounds like you may know some things to make this easier.”

  The look on Tobar’s face wasn’t giving much away.

  Prophet hadn’t opened his mouth in a while and sat in the Amriany’s car as if there was a gun stuck into his ribs.

  Cole could only assume the other European hunters were in the car as well, but they weren’t talking either.

  Finally, Nadya said, “We have friends who watch the Nymar in your country. They are the ones who pointed us toward Texas. We were ready to close in on a group in Austin, but the Nymar all left that place to go somewhere else before our plane could land.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “We don’t know. Since you seem to have more current information, we came here. If this place turns out to be empty or a trap, then we’ll know who had something to do with it.”

  When Cole met Prophet’s eye, he got the distinct impression that the bounty hunter wasn’t as willing a passenger as he might have been letting on. Either that or Walter was going along with the Amriany without tipping off the Skinners for some other reason. Neither of those possibilities sat very well with him.

  “Who are these friends of yours?” Rico asked. Upon seeing the glares coming from every Amriany in sight, he added, “For all you know, they could be the ones that are misinformed. Hell, they could be the ones tipping off the bloodsuckers.”

  “They are friends,” Tobar said. “We trust them much more than we can trust you.”

  “Look here, asshole. You can call them whatever you want. Hell, you can call me your papa, but that don’t mean I screwed your—”

  “He gets it,” Cole said before Rico sparked something that would involve way too much gunfire crossing in front of him. “We’re not doing ourselves any favors by having a convention out here in the street where we can be spotted by any Nymar out for a smoke break. They do take smoke breaks, right?”

  “He’s got a point,” Rico grudgingly admitted. “If those Austin bloodsuckers got access to the Internet, we may know who tipped them off.”

  “Who?” Tobar asked. “Is it someone we can look up now?”

  “Probably,” Rico told him. “But you can look it up the same time Cole has a look at whatever computer setup they got in there or wherever they moved to since then.”

  “They’re about a mile from here on Oneida Street,” Prophet said.

  Rico’s face turned even uglier than usual. “How long were you gonna wait before telling us that little tidbit?”

  “That was our doing,” she said. “After we caught him trying to follow us out of Philadelphia, we brought him along with us and convinced him it would be easier to work with us. As for meeting you here, we thought it might serve us better to work out our differences before attacking the Nymar.”

  “That actually makes sense to me,” Cole said. “How screwed up is that?”

  Although Rico seemed ready to bust someone’s head open, he nodded and grudgingly sighed.

  The Amriany were happy with the development and got back to their car. Prophet watched through his window, seeming genuinely shaken as he was driven away.

  “What?” Rico grunted as he turned his deathly glare in Cole’s direction. “You feel sorry for poor little Walter?”

  “Hell no! Son of a bitch is riding with the Gypsies now, right?”

  Rico slapped the car into Drive and pulled away with a lurch.

  Bracing his feet against the floor and making sure his seat belt was fastened, Cole did his best to appear relaxed as Rico followed the other car. “Besides,” he added, “what did Prophet ever do for us, right? Saved me and Paige in Wisconsin. Oh, and he did lay the groundwork for our arrangement with the nymphs. Guess that’s something.”

  “Free strip club buffets don’t make up for switchin’ sides,” Rico snapped. �
�He didn’t switch sides.”

  “Yeah? We’ll just have to wait and see about that.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They drove east through the industrial district. It was a part of town defined by abandoned cars, flat buildings made of cement and metal siding, open fields of dying grass, and businesses that might or might not have been empty shells. The brighter part of the city could be sensed more than felt. Its glow smeared the stars overhead, but its voice was too distant to be heard.

  Cole took advantage of the short travel time to dial Paige’s cell. Just when it started to ring, he spotted a familiar face on the side of the road. As they drove closer, the figure waved its arms to flag him down. Cole hung up the phone, stuffed it into his pocket, and swatted Rico’s arm. “Pull over!”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Just do it. Look!”

  As Cole pointed to the side of the road, Rico spotted the figure. “I’ll be damned!” he said as he hit the brakes and steered toward the shoulder. “That you, Bloodhound?”

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” Cole asked.

  “Just got in town and I thought I’d try to catch up to you,” Paige replied. “Mind if I get in?”

  As Cole’s phone rang, he reached back to unlock the door directly behind him. “Go ahead.”

  “Is that your phone ringing?” she asked while climbing in.

  “Yeah.”

  “Give it to me. I’m expecting a call.”

  “What?”

  “I lost my phone and knew you’d be here, so I gave them your number.”

  When Paige shot her right arm over Cole’s shoulder and impatiently snapped her fingers, he gave her the chirping phone before it was taken from him by force. She tapped the screen a few times, muttered to herself, then slumped back against the overly worn seat cushions. “Too late,” she huffed. “They hung up. I’ll just wait for them to call back.”

  “So how’d you get back in town?” Rico asked.

  “Same way you did, only I had to get a cab to get this far.”

  Before they could get into any more explanation than that, the brake lights on the Amriany car lit up. Cole’s phone chirped again, so Paige took it from her pocket and answered it. After a few quick sentences and an even quicker explanation as to why Cole hadn’t answered, she hung up and pointed to a white building surrounded by chain-link fence. There was no sign to be found, but the place was too utilitarian to be a residence. The stark cement walls without the first attempt at decoration reminded Cole of a large storage unit or an even larger garage.

  “That’s the place,” she said.

  The other car killed its lights and rolled to a stop in a lot adjacent to the white building at the corner of Fiftieth and Oneida Street behind a small cluster of tractor-trailer trucks. All four doors of the car opened, allowing Prophet and the Amriany to file out and disperse into the shadows. The bounty hunter and Drina stayed close to the darkened trucks as they hurried to the corner.

  Rico parked farther up along Fiftieth, which meant a somewhat longer walk to the white building. A small Nymar presence could be felt within Cole’s scars as well as throughout his entire body, but he knew that meant nothing where Shadow Spore were concerned. His muscles tensed and a jab shot through his heart like a phantom pain caused by the body compensating for a vital piece that had been cut away. He did his best to forget about it.

  By the time the Skinners had gotten out and circled around the car, Prophet and Drina were close enough to speak without shouting.

  “The others are scouting ahead,” Drina told them. Tapping her ear, she added, “I will keep in touch with them with this.”

  Rico removed a small pouch from his pocket and said, “Yeah, we got electronics stores over here too.” After dumping similar earpieces into his hand from the pouch, he handed them out to Cole and Paige before taking one for himself.

  “Where are the others headed?” Paige asked.

  “The Nymar must be preparing something,” Drina said. “If they are watching the street, Gunari will give them something to see other than us.”

  “Paige was checking on some things too,” Cole said as he turned to her. “What did you find out?”

  Using her left hand to flip her hair back, Paige fit the earpiece in place with the other in a series of short, practiced movements. “Now’s not the time for that. Let’s get off the street and I’ll fill you in as we go.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Rico said enthusiastically.

  The five of them crossed the street and headed for cover provided by the semis parked in the nearby lot. From there they wove between the darkened hulks until Cole signaled for them to stop. “Camera,” he whispered while pointing to a single black box mounted under the building’s gutter.

  Drina’s hand drifted to her earpiece. She tapped it twice, paused for a moment and then tapped it again. About a second later Cole heard the distinct sound of a metal door on the other side of the building being kicked in. Hurried footsteps scraped from different sections of the lot as well as on the building’s roof, quickly followed by angry voices.

  “You have your distraction,” Drina said.

  Rico smirked, picked up a rock that he’d trapped beneath his foot and said, “Good. Then nobody should take much notice of this.” With that, he threw the rock at the camera. It didn’t hit hard enough to smash the device, but cracked the lens while also turning it toward the street and away from the lot. Making certain to walk in the newly created blind spot, he led the way toward a side door that wasn’t marked by anything more than a small handle set into a thick steel surface.

  Before Rico could touch that handle, he was pushed aside by Drina. “There’s another alarm. Step away before you set it off.”

  He raised his hands and did as he was told.

  She fished some tools from her jacket pocket and put them to use in the short amount of time it took the others to settle in around her. Though Cole had a vague idea of what was involved in deactivating an alarm system, she might as well have been performing brain surgery. The last time he’d seen anything like it was when Paige had snuck into the back entrance of Steph’s Blood Parlor the first time they visited the place.

  He looked over to his partner, and when Paige noticed that she was being watched, she flashed him a quick smile.

  “Get ready,” Drina said. The next tool she used was a little plastic gun that looked better suited for attaching price tags to shoes. After a few pumps on the long trigger and a couple twists of the gun itself, something clicked and the door came open. She held it in place so the others could file in.

  Rico entered first, stepped to one side and drew the Sig Sauer from the holster under his shoulder. “Where are the cops supposed to be, Paige?”

  Stepping inside next, Cole said, “Forget about that. Let’s find the computer terminals. They’ll probably be close to their own power source since this place doesn’t look like it’s wired too well. Also, if the Nymar are waiting for trouble, I doubt they’d keep their system up front where it was easy to get to.”

  While following Cole down the left side of a T junction leading away from the door, Rico asked, “How can you be sure?”

  “Because there were no lights on in the other corner of the building and there are over here. This Cobb38 guy is supposed to be coordinating things, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then the computers are probably still on. You got any better guess, then feel free to tell us.” Directly in front of Cole was a narrow hallway lit by a set of fluorescent bulbs along the entire ceiling. Evenly spaced doors ran on both sides of the hall. Suddenly, the second door on the right swung open and a man stepped out. As luck would have it, he turned his back to them and started walking without so much as a glance at the Skinners or their escort. Cole took advantage of the distraction provided by the Amriany up front by rushing toward the man.

  He was a good old-fashioned Nymar. Black markings stretched up from beneath the collar of a thin cabl
e-knit sweater, and the grease in his veins sent a familiar itch through Cole’s scars. When he drew his pistol, the Spetznaz holster moved the slide back and chambered the first round. It was a smooth, metallic sound that caught the Nymar’s ear and spun him around just in time to look down the business end of Cole’s .45.

  “Any more in there with you?” he asked.

  The Nymar was only an inch shorter than Cole, but glared at him as if he was the one with the cards stacked in his favor. It was plain to see that he wasn’t about to start talking, but that didn’t bother Cole half as much as the other warning that rippled beneath his hands to send a heat up through both arms.

  Without taking his eyes off of the Nymar, Cole asked, “Any of you guys feel that?”

  “Yeah,” Rico replied. “There’s a shapeshifter around here.”

  Grabbing the Nymar by the throat, Cole shoved him back into the room he’d just left and knocked the barrel of his .45 against the guy’s head loud enough to make a dull crack. “Where’s your computer room?”

  “What computer room?” the Nymar asked.

  “The room where you keep your fucking computer! Where is it?”

  The Nymar lost his confident grin as well as a good portion of the color in his face. “Down the hall on the left. I was just headed there.”

  Rico stepped up to send a quick jab into the Nymar’s ribs. “You expectin’ any Half Breeds?”

  “What?”

  “We know they’re here. Them or a Full Blood, and since they ain’t tearing this place apart, that means you must already know about ‘em. What’s going on? You keeping them locked up somewhere like those assholes in Tijuana who thought they could train ‘em as guard dogs?”

  “My partners will find them,” Drina said. “Let’s just do our part so we can help them quicker.”

  “Computer,” Cole snarled. “Take us to it.”

  The Nymar led the way across the hall as gunfire erupted from the front section of the building. After one of the longest walks he’d ever taken, Cole found himself across in a room that smelled like stale coffee, new plastic, and air that had been blown through a hot processor. If two-day-old pizza and spilled, overcaffeinated soda was added to the mix, he might have thought he’d been transported back to the offices of Digital Dreamers, Inc.