by Sierra Dean
If he didn’t know who I was, then there was a good chance he hadn’t been at the Chameleon. There was hope for this one yet.
“It doesn’t matter.” I pressed the gun harder against the wrinkled skin of his forehead. “Just tell me what I want to know and this won’t get messy.”
His mouth formed a surprised O, but still he didn’t shout for help. The weapon did seem to be distracting him from answering though, so I pulled it away. The entire frame of his body relaxed noticeably. From below I could hear shuffling feet and irritated voices as the men continued to look for the source of the disturbance.
“The coffin room is under the theater. I’ve never seen it, so I don’t know exactly where, but there’s a door behind the curt—”
I covered his mouth with my hand again upon hearing the withdrawing voices of the two other guards. Jackson’s eyes looked huge with terror.
“Who do you work for?” I needed to make this quick.
Lifting my hand enough that he could move his lips, I let him continue. “Work for?” He looked confused.
“Why are you here? Werewolves guarding a vampire doesn’t make sense.”
“We’re not guarding the vampire. We’re here to protect our alpha. He’s guarding the vampire.”
I was pretty sure I knew the answer to my next question already, but I needed to know for sure. “Who’s your alpha, Jackson?”
“Marcus Sullivan.”
“And he’s underground too?”
Jackson nodded. “He and the queen sleep down there.”
“Are there other guards?” Footfalls were echoing upwards. My time was almost up.
“Yes. Six.”
I showed him the gun again. “How many?”
“Six, I swear.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple rising and falling with an exaggerated bob. Male voices were closer now. I couldn’t just leave Jackson to tell them I’d been here, but there was also no way I could take on the other two guards and keep the young wolf subdued.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.” I saw his confusion at the words, but a moment later the butt of my gun connected with his temple, and he was out cold.
For the next part of my plan to work, I needed to be quiet and quick. I hopped onto the edge of the balcony, teetering as I balanced on the thin rail before leaping off and into the box where I’d originally hidden. An instant after I landed I heard one of the other guards swear.
I slipped back into the hallway where one of the guards stood with his back to me. The other was out of sight, but I could hear him trying to revive Jackson. I leaped onto the guard I could see and snaked my arm under his chin, jerking backwards to cut off his air supply. It would have been a perfect sleeper hold if I’d been six inches taller. I’d still be able to knock him out, but it was going to take a little extra elbow grease.
A wheezy moan escaped his lips and his body went slack under mine, tumbling to the floor. The whole process took mere seconds. If I could have left then without dealing with the third guard, I would have been happy to, but I doubted he would just ignore the fact that his two comrades were suddenly out cold.
“Bitch.”
Yup, that’s what I figured.
I got to my feet and squared off against the redheaded guard who was now all that stood between me and the basement.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.
“That’s a pity, because I want to hurt you.”
I stepped backwards, careful to avoid the fallen werewolf who was now snoring on the floor. At the same time, I leveled my gun at the remaining guard. I had no intention of firing it, but he didn’t need to now that. Nothing says guess what, I’m here like gunplay.
“If you leave now, nothing will happen to you,” I promised.
He laughed. “The queen should have finished you off when she had the chance.”
Jackson had mentioned Marcus’s queen earlier, and now this wolf seemed to be suggesting she’d had a chance to do me in. I was still wondering who they were talking about since there was no queen in the east, but I was pretty sure his words meant she was the one who almost killed me at the Chameleon.
“I think you’ll find it’s a lot harder to finish me off than you might imagine.”
“We’ll find out.” He lunged for me, but his foot snagged on his fallen friend’s arm. He didn’t fall, but the stagger gave me enough time. I didn’t waste the effort to incapacitate him painlessly. Instead I smashed my gun into the back of his head.
Knocking Jackson out had made me feel bad. Bringing this guy down brought a smug, satisfied smile to my lips. I surveyed the floor and the three unconscious figures and let myself breathe a small sigh of relief.
The easy part was over.
That taking on three full-grown werewolves had been the easy part made me want to vomit.
Chapter Thirty-One
I dragged the inert bodies into the box and used the braided curtain tiebacks to bind their hands and feet and tether the three of them together. Once I felt sure they wouldn’t easily be able to free themselves if they woke up, I went in search of my quarry.
Access to the basement was through a trap door behind the tattered gray movie screen. When the Orpheum used to host plays, the door had probably been for easy access to the stage for surprise entrances or dramatic death scenes.
Now it would once again play a part in a very different kind of death scene.
I took a long, deep breath and pulled my cell out of my jacket pocket. I’d only been gone an hour but Desmond was likely awake by now. Part of me wanted to use the phone to call Keaty and ask for backup. I couldn’t make myself do it. Maybe it was because Keaty had saved me the first time I met Peyton, and now that I was facing him for the last time I had to do so by myself.
It was stupid, but I had to know in six years I had become the kind of hunter who didn’t need help to kill a three-hundred-year-old vampire. Since meeting Peyton I’d killed others older and stronger than him, but something about the Cajun vampire made me feel as foolish and weak as the sixteen-year-old he’d once bitten.
I looked at the phone once more before putting it back inside my pocket. Pulling my jacket around me, I balanced on the balls of my feet at the edge of the gaping black hole. I only smelled mold and dampness, the scents of the dark, no vampires or wolves.
I jumped.
It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the total darkness and a few more to take my surroundings in. Below the stage, mildewed sets and props lined either side of the walls. Glass from broken stage lights dusted the floor, making a sound like dry leaves on autumn sidewalks whenever I put my foot down.
Raising my face, I sniffed the dank air, trying to sense anything alive over the pungent odor of decay. Then, as faint as a whisper, I detected something real, something with a beating heart.
I sidestepped the glass the best I could and moved in the direction of the smell.
A short distance down the hall the ceiling dipped low into a small crawlspace that led to a maze of storage spaces and dressing rooms. I crouched, bracing my hands against either wall, and tentatively sniffed the air again. The scent was stronger here, so I dropped to all fours to follow it down the rabbit hole.
Several dozen feet of squat, tight space later the tunnel tilted upwards and began to grow larger. I could rise to a hunched standing position and used it as an opportunity to grab my gun, preparing myself to step into the open.
I ducked low to the ground, shrinking as far into the shadows as possible and taking advantage of my superior breath-holding abilities. I listened for crunching glass behind me, or anything to suggest someone ahead was aware of me and waiting to confront me at the mouth of the tunnel. All I heard was the echoing thrum of the subway as it careened through a station a few blocks away.
The sound of my own heart was a quiet, fearful thump. As far as I could tell, no one was coming. I sniffed the air again, trying to distinguish the different smells.
There was a mishmash of lupine aromas. Too m
any to give myself an actual head count, but enough to make me a little queasy. Jackson had told me there were six guards, in addition to Marcus and his queen. I was hoping he hadn’t lied.
I slumped back, holding my gun to my chest and keeping my breaths steady against a wave of panic. What was I doing here? This wasn’t a nest of rogue vampires or one errant wolf. This was a dissenting pack, and until this moment I had only been viewing their leader as a pawn between me and my goal of bringing Peyton to the council.
Yes, Marcus was a puppet in Peyton’s larger plan, but I hadn’t put enough thought into the coup he was plotting. Within the werewolf community there were those who believed choosing a ruling class through family lines was outdated. I didn’t fully disagree with them, but I also respected that Lucas would only ever do things for the benefit of his pack.
Furthermore, I didn’t think for a second Marcus intended to make the wolves a democratic society if he usurped Lucas’s throne.
But those who believed his campaign of false promises would protect their leader with their lives, and I had been a fool to underestimate the scope of his following. These werewolves were more than just guards. They believed they were warriors for a righteous cause.
I would have given anything at that moment to berate myself aloud, but that was out of the question.
Well, moron, if this is the end, at least you can feel good about splurging on silver bullets.
I pulled out the second gun and checked the clips on both. I slipped extras into my boots as well as the back pockets of my jeans, then I switched off the safety on each weapon.
Right now, I needed to know if Jackson had been honest about the number of guards. Once I knew what I was up against, I’d be able to figure out how to get around them. The ultimate goal was to capture Peyton. The plan for the moment was nothing fancier than don’t get caught.
Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolves? The light of the main room was bright, but it didn’t spread into the whole hall. There was an edge of black shadow along the wall, and I used it to stay out of sight, but it let me pass by the room and see who was within.
Dogs playing poker was the first thing that came to mind. Six bulky men crowded around a folding buffet table, using Doritos in place of poker chips. They looked so benign I almost laughed. There was a low metal trolley stacked with folding chairs and another table, all flat. They must have used the rolling frame to bring the furniture in. The passage was wide enough for coffins, even in the cramped areas. It was hard to imagine the guards carting caskets and card tables down that wee hallway, but the goods had to get here somehow.
None of them appeared to be carrying weapons. What was it with monsters assuming nothing out there made bigger bumps in the night than they did? Daylight hours were limited in early spring, and I’d wasted much of the morning sleeping, but with them unarmed there was still a chance I might reach my intended target before night fell. Once Peyton awoke, one of us wouldn’t leave the Orpheum alive, and I needed us both to have our lives when this day was done.
I had to remind myself that even this far from the sun’s reach I too was weakened by the day, and there was no way I could easily take on these guards, plus however many others were in the room beyond with Marcus and his queen.
I didn’t believe in God, at least not in the sole-being, grumpy universal father-figure sense of the term. But if he or any of the gods from which Calliope descended were paying any attention this spring morning, I was praying to them to show me how I could come out on top in this situation.
My mind was racing, gaze darting around the hallway. They hadn’t picked up my scent yet, but that luck wouldn’t last, and I needed to figure out of how to handle them, sooner rather than later.
If I went in guns blazing, I could take out half of them before they got the jump on me. But then I risked being ripped apart by three werewolves—not the end to the fight I was hoping for.
There was no other way to get from where I was standing to the door behind them unless I suddenly developed the ability to fly or become invisible. Myths about vampire abilities aside, flying wasn’t something any of us could actually do. I wondered if there might be a rear entrance to the room, but judging by the layout and the cramped passage that had led me here, it seemed unlikely.
What had I gotten myself in to? I was beginning to think the first option was my only available course when I noticed something on the wall a few meters down the corridor. I took my eyes off the men and slunk deeper into the darkness.
Mounted on the wall was a silver box. My heart pounded. I could not be this lucky. I opened the hinged cover and squinted into the box’s interior. Sure enough it was exactly what I expected it to be. Before my eyes were dozens of breakers, all with faded labels that once explained the power of each switch. I scanned them and saw a heavy double-pronged black switch with the word MASTER still visible.
I cast my eyes upward and smiled. Maybe it was time to start believing in divine intervention after all.
Let there be dark.
I flipped the master switch down.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Had I found myself in a nest of vampires, the sudden fall of darkness wouldn’t have been noticed. Perhaps a musing of oh, the lights appear to be out, but it wouldn’t have affected them in any negative way. They could see just as easily in the dark as in the light, and it was a gift I was pleased to have inherited from my father’s blood.
Werewolves, on the other hand, only have the benefit of heightened night vision when they’re in their wolf form. Even then they rely more on the senses of smell and hearing. One of the problems of being a werewolf, apart from the obvious issue of bursting out of your skin and becoming a wolf every month, was most of the strengths you had in wolf form did not translate to your human body.
Strength and sense of smell remained, as well as keener hearing, but a werewolf in human form couldn’t see in the dark. At least not without a considerable period for adjustment, and that was what I was counting on.
From the main room a chorus of voices rose in alarm. Chair legs squealed on concrete and one baritone seemed to float to the top of the din, taking control of the madness before it boiled over.
“Simon,” the voice said, “go check the breakers. Something probably just overloaded the system again. James, I need you and Hollis by the King’s door with me. No one gets in or out.”
“I can’t see my hands, let alone the door.”
“It’s three feet away from you, you fucking moron.”
Fish in a barrel.
I listened to the commotion as they tried to organize themselves inside the room and waited for my moment alone with Simon.
Stealth was not the reason Simon the werewolf had been hired for his job. He trundled down the hall with the grace of an elephant in a canoe. If he or the others had any sense of what was waiting for them, it didn’t show. He was almost face-to-face with me before he took the breath that told him I was there.
His eyes flared as awareness dawned on him, and his mouth opened to raise the alarm. I clapped my hand over his mouth, holding the gun to his chest to add emphasis to the threat. I didn’t want Simon to die. I couldn’t sacrifice my newfound luck. I’d gotten this far without killing anyone, and I hoped that wasn’t about to change.
He was beginning to panic. One of his fists swung blindly and hooked me in the ribs. My breath came out in a whoosh, and before he had a chance to swing again, I smashed his head against the rock wall and stood over his collapsed body, breathing hard. I held my breath until I heard a small hiss of air escape his lips.
Had this been a comedy of errors, the guard in charge would have sent out one guard at a time to check on the one before until they were all out cold. But this wasn’t going to be that easy.
Earlier I had hoped to be invisible, and now I’d been granted that wish. I stepped over Simon’s inert body with my gun still at the ready, and moved into the main room.
The scene was almost comical in its ridicul
ousness. Werewolves, now only five of them, staggered around the room with outstretched arms, tripping on furniture and over one another. They were swearing and barking out orders that got lost in the din of so many simultaneous shouts.
“Jesus, Simon! What’s taking so long?” the main guard bellowed from the far back corner of the room. He was freakishly tall, close to seven feet, and as broad across the chest as my torso was long.
It wasn’t the size of him that worried me the most, though. It was how calm he sounded—unhappy but not alarmed. He would be my biggest obstacle between this room and Marcus, but all the other guards stood between me and him, and he wasn’t budging from his position.
I safetied my gun and put it back in my waistband. In this kind of darkness a gun would only work against me, and until I took out a majority of the guards I couldn’t use it. The flash of the bullet exiting the chamber would illuminate my position and give me away. Plus, if I was smart about this, I might not have to use it at all.
The first two were easy. They fell as quickly as Simon had in the hallway, each subdued with a basic chokehold before they could cry out. I was going to have to thank Keaty for teaching me that particular move. Most of my training was lethal, but the sleeper was proving to be a great silent, non-fatal alternative to a broken neck.
With two of the remaining five guards down, I no longer had the cacophony of raised voices to mask my approach. I moved silently through the darkness towards the two guards by the locked door—James and Hollis. James went down quick, like the others, but when I grabbed for Hollis my arms came up empty. He had feinted out of my grip with surprising speed and grace. He swung at me, not able to see me but aware of my general position, and his punch landed squarely on my collarbone.
This hit was more painful than the one landed by Simon, and I couldn’t stop the cry of pain that escaped my throat. The femininity of the sound must have taken him by surprise, because Hollis’s next swing hesitated and glanced off my shoulder.
“A girl?” Hollis sounded worried.
