I snatched Black’s phone off where it lay on the picnic table in front of him. Frowning, I swiped the screen and entered his password. After hitting through a few more screens, I found the most recent news headlines on his media aggregator.
Black’s face popped up immediately.
In the first photo, his eyes stared out of the screen, sans contact lenses, shining with a unreal, animal glow under direct sunlight as he frowned at something someone was saying to him. I remembered the photo; it was taken while we were in Manhattan.
A group of videos were arraigned at the top of the list of articles.
I clicked the first one.
I found myself staring at the images of the shootout in front of the Colonel’s three story brick house in Virginia. I saw the flashes from gunfire, and the back of our limousine as it peeled off the curb, fishtailing in the street to get away from the Homeland Security agents.
I caught the narration, but only in disjointed snippets.
“…new footage obtained from Homeland Security this hour…”
Around me, everyone was silent as they listened.
“…it appears now that Black and his operatives led a high speed chase in the wealthy Broyhill Forest neighborhood of Arlington, after opening fire on Homeland Security agents. Agents Foster and Davidson went down in the first five minutes…”
“…Suspect in the murder case of Colonel Harrison Hamilton Holmes III, one of the leading security experts in the NSA, and a decorated soldier from multiple wars…”
“…continued gun battle on the freeway after they left the area of his alleged victim’s funeral reception, and the residence of his widow…”
“…currently believed they got out before the airport could be shut down…”
“…armed and incredibly dangerous. Black is currently believed to be somewhere in Latin or South America based on satellite imaging, but if you think you see him, do not approach. Call the authorities or approach a police officer, if…”
I stared down at the phone, watching the movies play as a newscaster sat in front at a desk, his expression somber as he relayed information.
When that collection of broadcasts ended, I clicked to the next one.
Then the next.
And the next.
They all more or less said the same thing.
They all described the exact same sequence of events.
Black was approached by federal agents at the funeral reception of one Colonel Harrison Hamilton Holmes III. The agents, primarily F.B.I. and Homeland Security, were there to bring him in for questioning regarding new evidence that potentially implicated Black in the Colonel’s death. Black initially seemed to cooperate with the request, then attacked the agents as they got ready to load him into a waiting van. Black was on the run when his security team opened fire on federal agents, killing two immediately and wounding one other.
Three more agents died in the ensuing high-speed chase.
They never described the evidence tying Black to the Colonel’s death.
They didn’t explain how Black could have been responsible, given he wasn’t even in the same part of the country at the time of death.
After the sixth or seventh news snippet, I finally forced myself to stop. I looked up at Black, to find him staring at me.
He hesitated, looking like he might say something––
When a formation of planes passed overhead.
They passed close––too damned close.
My eyes darted up in time to count four fighters.
The noise was deafening, roaring across the previously-empty sky, shattering what I only now realized had been a strangely quiet morning, even for the Louisiana countryside. The vibration from the planes’ passing rattled the windows of the house. It got so loud towards the end, I put my hands over my ears, wincing to block it out.
When they came around for another pass, all of us looked up.
I wasn’t the only one who had their palms clamped over their ears.
Before I could wrap my mind around what they were doing, Black yelled, making me jump about a foot off the wooden bench.
“Get under cover!” he shouted. “Now! Everyone get under cover! Right now!”
15
A GESTURE OF GOODWILL
THE NEXT THING I knew, we were all running.
Our whole group must have followed Black’s call.
Branches hit me in the face, tearing at my clothes and hair as I ran.
I saw and felt others in our group dash into the swamp that crept around Jackson’s wooden house. Some ran alongside me and Black. Some ran behind us, moving slower as we left the area with the wooden tables.
Dog and Devin seemed to be in front, maybe in part because they’d been closest to the trees when Black gave the order to run. I saw their slight forms here and there, leaping like gazelles through the underbrush and over the wet ground.
I saw others with us more in glimpses and flashes, leaping through and around cypress trees, around old southern oaks covered in Spanish moss, around and half-through bushes I didn’t know the names for. I heard occasional soft cries of pain, people panting, calls of encouragement and people stopping or slowing to help others move faster.
I hoped someone was helping Manny and Lawless.
They’re fine, doc, Black sent. I checked.
I caught a glimpse in his mind, of Frank and Easton staying back to make sure the two of them kept up with the rest of the group. Once I made sense of the images, I nodded, feeling a harder pain loosen slightly in my chest.
After we’d been running a few minutes more, we hit stretches of shallow water covered in green lily pads, reeds and smaller plants.
I stumbled when my foot landed in the first of these, catching my balance as I waded through the murky, plant-choked water.
I had a passing nervousness about alligators and cottonmouths as we passed through the first stretch of actual swamp, but before I could slow down, Black grabbed my hand, dragging me with him faster into the shallow water, urging me with his hands, legs and light to keep up with him. I understood why when we’d been walking a few seconds longer.
The first boom of missiles slammed into the earth behind us.
All of us had been running for only a handful of minutes at that point, even though it felt a hell of a lot longer. I ducked in reflex when the concussions trembled the ground––even knowing, thanks to Black, we were well out of range.
My light snaked out behind me, unable to stop myself from locating the exact source.
In my mind’s eye, I saw Jackson’s house burning.
Remembering the kids, I felt my heart leap to my throat all over again.
Nothing we can do, doc, Black murmured in my mind. I brought out who I could.
Through his light, I saw two of the kids I recognized from the house running through the swamp with us. I also saw Jackson himself running, prodded by Black’s mind and light.
Before I could answer, my foot sank into something a lot deeper, the deepest of any water I’d run into yet, and sticky with mud and silt.
Black pulled me back before I could fall forward, or take another step.
I stood by him, panting, in the shallower water, and he turned around, looking at our surroundings. I followed his eyes, and found myself looking at a crowd assembled at the edge of what I now realized was a swampy lake.
A lake Black and I were standing in.
Frowning, Black pulled me with him back to shore, to where the rest of our group stood on solid ground. We splashed up to them and climbed up the bank.
I was panting by the time we reached them. When we stopped, I rested my hands on my thighs, bending over to catch my breath.
I felt completely soaked in sweat. My face, arms and hands were scratched up and bleeding. My clothes stuck to my back and chest.
Black was sweaty too, but he didn’t seem to be breathing all that hard.
“Suggestions?” he called out, hands on his hips. “We need to
get out of here. To the airboats, if we can. If not, we need to find another way down to Port Fourchon and the ship. Or north, if we can get past whatever military presence might be there. If we can’t get to the airboats from here, we’ll likely need cars. Or a few large trucks.”
There was a silence after he spoke.
I could feel all of the people standing around us thinking.
Most of them, like me, were breathing hard, fighting to catch their breaths.
The sound of all of our breathing filled the tree-choked shore and nearby clearing. I was slowly calming the hammering of my heart in my chest, slowly calming my breathing, but I still rested most of my weight on my palms and thighs.
Even now, Black had a hand on me, his fingers resting heavily on my back.
“I can get us to a boat,” a voice said.
I turned, surprised when I realized whose voice it was.
Jackson stood there, his T-shirt showing sweat rings on his chest and back.
Black must have let go of his mind; his eyes looked clear again, more how they’d looked when we first met him at the riverbank. He was standing next to Angel and Cowboy, who were also breathing hard, trying to catch up from their sprint through the swamp.
Both of them had their guns gripped in their hands.
From the look of Angel’s clothes, she’d fallen at least once in the mud.
I heard the jet fighters thunder by overhead and winced, moving deeper into the shadows of the trees. All of us looked up as they passed, none of us speaking what we already knew. We had to get the hell out of there.
They probably had people heading our way on the ground already. The jets were likely just to soften the ground.
Even as I thought it, I heard another series of explosions.
They were further away than Jackson’s house.
Black muttered next to me. “The airboats.”
Another series of explosions came not long after.
Like Black, I reached out with my mind that time, trying to determine what they’d hit. It felt like they targeted structures, maybe two miles from Jackson’s sister’s house. Based on what Black said to Brick, I guessed they were going after places they thought were owned or occupied by vampires. Maybe they’d just hit wherever Brick had been staying since he escaped.
If this was Charles, if he was targeting vampires specifically, they’d go after the big pockets first, before they risked bringing people in for clean-up. I suspected drones would be next, assuming they hadn’t been deployed out here already.
Black frowned, glancing at me.
I could see the thoughts running behind his eyes, clearer than usual as he looked at me.
I felt the conflict there, felt him trying to calculate how to keep all of us alive.
I also felt him thinking about Brick. Even now, he hadn’t totally given up on what he’d come out here to do. He still wanted intel from the vampires.
“We have to get out of here, Black,” I told him, quiet. “At the very least, we have to get these people out of here. We need to walk them to the road… help them find their way to the ship. Going north is too risky.”
Black nodded, frowning.
“We can try New Orleans next,” I said, still speaking in a near-murmur. “Maybe we’ll find someone there who can tell us something.” Still watching Black’s eyes, I added, “We can’t stay here, Black. We need to drive these people out of here, before they send in ground troops.”
Black’s jaw tightened.
Thinking about my words, he nodded again. I saw his mind working as he fought with the part of himself that didn’t want to give up the one lead he had.
I was still watching his eyes, when another voice spoke.
“I have a better way,” it said.
Hearing the lilting New Orleans accent, I turned, sharp.
Brick stood there, looking strangely unruffled next to the rest of our group.
I hadn’t seen him with us in the swamp.
I hadn’t seen him anywhere.
Truthfully, I don’t think I’d given him or his blond, psychopathic friend so much as a glance once Black yelled at all of us to run.
I had no idea where he’d appeared from, or if he’d been with us all along, simply moving so fast I hadn’t tracked him with my eyes.
The blond vampire and four other vampires, none of whom I recognized, stood near him, their crystal eyes focused warily on me, and especially on Black. All of them stood directly under large, thick-canopied cypress trees, likely to keep their skin untouched by sun.
None of them looked out of breath, or even appeared to be breathing harder than normal.
“Come here,” Black said, his voice rough. “Now.”
He flicked his fingers at Brick, indicating with a nod for him to step closer.
The vampire lifted an eyebrow at him, smirking.
“Excuse me?”
“They have something on you,” Black growled. “If you’re going to stand here with us, broadcasting our fucking position, I’m going to throw you in the goddamned lake so we can make our getaway.”
Brick’s smirk faded. “Can you find it? What they have on me?”
“Yes,” Black snapped. “I think I can see it already. I’ll be able to tell for certain if you’d come the fuck over here.”
Brick walked over to Black warily, moving like an animal circling another predator. He got within a few feet and stared at Black warily, his crystal eyes tinged with scarlet.
Black ignored his aggressive stare.
He continued scanning the vampire with his light, his own irises blurred out of focus. Looking at him, it hit me that Black hadn’t just been saying that to throw Brick off; claiming he’d seen a tracking device wasn’t a ruse.
Black really had seen something on Brick. Whatever it was, he was looking at it even now, assessing it somehow with his light.
Look with me, doc, Black sent, his thoughts a bare murmur. You should learn this. Learn how to pick out organic machines from regular flesh. His thoughts hardened. Well, vampire flesh, in this case. Given how things stand, you’ll need to know how to do this on your own, if you ever suspect someone’s put an organic trace on you.
His thoughts turned grimmer.
Your life may depend on it, doc.
Following the prodding of his mind, I nodded, opening my light.
I didn’t try to look on my own, not at first.
Instead, I looked through him, following his methodical scan over every inch of the nearly light-less body of the vampire standing in front of him.
“Turn around,” Black said, speaking to the vampire again, his voice still a growl. He motioned with his fingers. “Around. Now. I want to make sure they only have the one.”
Brick did as he said.
“Yeah,” Black said. “I think that’s it. I don’t see anything that stands out in your blood, or anything in your DNA… but I’m not sure I would, to be truthful.”
He nudged my mind until I could see the one tracer he’d found.
Once he had, I was amazed I’d missed it.
Like an off-key note pulsing under Brick’s skin, it shone a pale green color, just behind his lowest rib. It looked almost like they’d deliberately hidden it behind the bone.
“They did,” Black said, glancing at me.
He turned to Brick.
“I can take it out,” he said, exhaling. “I’ll need to use a knife––”
“Where is it?” Brick said.
Black motioned at him again, using a few flicks of his fingers. “Behind your lowest rib on the left side. Nestled right in the curve, to hide it from a regular scanner. It’s an organic bead, similar to the tech on the collar you had me in, when I was in that jail.”
He said the last with a harder note in his voice.
“How big?” Brick said.
“Maybe the size of a ladybug. It’ll be round, green, probably featureless… it might even be colored to blend into the bone.”
Pausing, he fr
owned at Brick, his hands on his hips.
“I won’t fucking kill you,” he said. “Just let me cut it out.”
“No need,” Brick said smoothly. He glanced at the blond vampire. “Dorian? Is that enough information for you, my beloved?”
I hadn’t felt or seen the other vampire approach, so I jumped when I realized the tall, handsome blond with the dead eyes stood right beside me. He frowned faintly at Brick’s question, his flat, reptilian eyes devoid of emotion.
I couldn’t help thinking he looked at Brick, and Brick’s body, as if it were a puzzle he needed to break open and put back together, hopefully without damaging it permanently.
“It is enough,” he said after a pause.
He walked up to Brick.
Without me seeing him pull it out, or where he’d been carrying it, he had a knife in his hand. The blade looked old. The green handle might have been jade, and it seemed to fit his hand as though it were a part of him.
The slightly curved, six-inch blade looked sharp as a razor.
Brick was already removing his jacket. Once he had it off, he removed his dress shirt next, exposing a muscular, hairless body that was so white, it nearly glowed, even under the heavy shade of the thick canopy.
Glancing at the blond vampire, Brick gave him a nod, then bent over, resting his hands on his thighs to give the other easier access to his back.
I looked away when Dorian plunged the knife into him.
Brick winced, but didn’t make a sound as Dorian worked.
Black remained a safe distance away, but he continued to guide the blond, using his light.
“Higher up. Follow the curve of bone,” he said, when the vampire reached into the hole he’d created with the knife, using his fingers. “Yes. That direction. Higher.”
A few seconds later.
“There. You’re right next to it…”
Another pause.
“A few millimeters to the left,” Black grunted. “There. It should be right there, where your forefinger is. It’ll feel smooth. Smoother than the bone. Like metal. Or glass.”
I glanced over, in spite of myself. Seeing the blond vampire’s hand halfway inside Brick’s body, I grimaced, but forced myself to watch.
In Black We Trust Page 21
