Reckoning: A Fallen Siren Novel

by S. J. Harper

  “Who’s controlling the girls?” I ask Kallistos.

  Kallistos answers through fangs. His expression hard. His body tense with rage. “Lamont.”

  “Then we take him out first,” Zack says, handing me the camera. He brings his rifle once again to his shoulder.

  “No. He’s mine,” Kallistos hisses.

  Then he’s gone. One second he’s standing beside me. The next, he’s launched himself over the wall.

  CHAPTER 24

  I drop the phone and camera, then draw both Glocks, mine and Zack’s. They are loaded with bullets meant to take out vampires—hollow wooden points, with silver inside. Zack has already made short order of bringing down the four servers. I train my sight on covering Kallistos, who has landed squarely on top of Lamont.

  The two vampires roll, then separate.

  When Kallistos stands, he has something in his hands. Something he’s pulled from the pocket of his jacket, a braided silver chain. It’s about three feet long and half an inch thick. He unfurls it with a flick of a wrist. Like a whip, it wraps around Lamont’s throat. Blood drips down the Southern King’s neck, seeping into the collar of his pristine shirt.

  The two brothers abandon their seats at the table. They leap toward Kallistos. I pick them off, first one, then the other. Their bodies explode in ash. The Prince from Mexico takes advantage and dives for the girls. Zack, however, has him in his sights. I blink and watch as a fine dusting of red powder falls on the heads of the captives. They remain undisturbed, completely oblivious to the hell breaking out around them.

  “I’ll cover you. Protect the girls. As soon as the thrall is broken, get them out of here,” shouts Zack.

  I’m already on my way, racing down the steps. Cheng tackles me at the base of the stairs. We’re close to the wall. Zack can’t see us. Cheng is human, and unarmed. But he’s several inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier. I hear the sound of my guns as they skitter across the floor. The wall breaks my fall. I don’t have time to think about the inevitable bruises. I push off and take aim. The steel toe of my boot connects with Cheng’s balls.

  He doubles over in pain.

  I follow up with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. The momentum carries him backward. He falls hard. Tries to get up. Can’t. Probably because my boot is crushing his windpipe.

  A distinctive scar runs the length of his left cheek. I have the feeling I’ve seen him before.

  “Emma!”

  I turn. Zack tosses me back my gun. He didn’t come down the stairs. Like Kallistos, he must have jumped. And he’s managed to subdue Ford, who is handcuffed to the bars of the door the girls passed through.

  “Cuff them to one another,” he shouts, pointing to Cheng.

  As I drag the still-stunned Cheng across the floor, I see one of the remaining vamps dive toward Zack.

  With barely a glance, he points and shoots. “Anyone else want to die? Again?” He jumps onto the dais where Lamont has fallen to his knees.

  Owen is beside him, on his knees, as well. He holds out his hands to Kallistos. “Please, forgive us, Your Majesty.”

  “Yes!” cries the other male vampire. “Lamont tricked us. Lured us here under false pretenses.”

  “Liar!” Lamont’s hands are at the chain around his neck; his feet scrabble on the floor seeking purchase. He struggles toward the vampires. “You came of your own free will!”

  “No! He’s wrong, Majesty,” one of the females grovels, grasping at Kallistos’ feet. “We would never—”

  Kallistos shakes her loose. His voice bellows across the chamber. “Get out. I want the four of you out of my sight.”

  The female grasps the arm of the male vampire closest to her and they back away.

  But Kallistos isn’t finished. “Do not mistake that this is over. I promise you. It is not. Next time I lay eyes on you, you will wish I had ended it here.”

  Three are gone in a heartbeat. Only Owen hesitates, looking to Kallistos. Whatever message his sire sends, Owen nods in acknowledgment and obeys, following the others toward the tunnel.

  Zack makes his way over to Lamont and Kallistos. “Don’t think I’ve seen one of these before.” He tilts his head toward the silver lariat. “Let me guess—the hooks on the inside are releasing silver into his system?”

  Kallistos nods. “Along with a strong paralytic.” He draws the chain tighter again.

  As I approach the stage, I see the smoke rising up from Kallistos’ hands, see that his skin is raw and blistering. Kallistos doesn’t seem to notice. His gaze is fixed on Lamont. “It’s over. Release the girls,” he commands.

  Smoke is rising up from Lamont’s neck wounds. The silver hooks are biting into and burning his flesh. His movements are slowing. His breathing becoming calmer. His eyes, however, are still alert. They dart about the room, searching for allies. The two he has are chained and human. But a vampire doesn’t live as long as Lamont has by giving up easily.

  I check my watch. “Let’s finish this and get out of here.”

  “Release the girls!” Kallistos demands. “I will not ask you again.”

  Lamont shakes his head, slowly. The defiance in his tone cuts like ice. “Why would I do that? Released from thrall, they will remember the details of their abductions. They might even be able to identify Cheng. We have been seen together. I have no desire to be drawn into a kidnapping conspiracy.” His eyes narrow. His fingers pull ineffectively at the silver noose. “Of course, I could be persuaded. If you let me go.”

  “You have come into my territory and put my entire operation in jeopardy and I should let you go?” Kallistos’ eyes flash in anger. “You have to make restitution for this outrage. You must be punished.”

  “You can’t punish me,” Lamont snarls. “Even you won’t risk an all-out war.”

  Zack has Lamont covered with his rifle. I eject the magazine of supernatural specials from my Glock and replace it with regulation bullets. I’ll need to do the same for Zack’s before we call for backup and the troops arrive.

  “We’ve only got about five minutes before the others arrive,” I remind Kallistos, inching closer to the stage.

  As if on cue, a phone buzzes in Lamont’s jacket pocket. He glances down at it.

  “That must be the last of them.” Kallistos leans toward him, his expression fiercer than I’ve ever seen. “You’re wrong if you think I will let you go.” He looks up, his eyes meeting my own. “Emma, get the phone. Tell whoever’s on the other end that the Southern King has fallen.”

  “No!” Ford cries out.

  I make the mistake of turning toward him.

  I feel a rush of air. From behind me, Lamont’s hands wrap around my neck and squeeze, choking the breath out of me. The metallic smell of his blood and the acrid odor of cooked flesh assail my nostrils. I know I can’t be killed. Yet in the moment, the instinct to fight, to live, overcomes all else. Because I know if I die, when I return things will be different. I’ll have to go somewhere else. Be someone else. It’s Demeter’s way of assuring I don’t get too comfortable or too attached to a particular life. And I’m not done with this one yet. Not nearly.

  I am slipping away but feel no panic. Blackness descends in a rush to block everything from my sight. I hear a voice, Zack’s voice, in the background. He’s calling my name over and over.

  And Kallistos’ voice, too.

  “I’ll find you, Emma,” he’s saying. “I’ll never stop looking.”

  And then, nothing.

  * * *

  A blast shatters the silence.

  I jerk free.

  I rub at my eyes, swallow, and gasp at the sharp pain that rips at my throat like barbed wire.

  Two men are kneeling in front of me. I shake my head, try to focus on them, focus on something other than the impulse to scream every time I try to swallow.

  Slowly, my head clears. Rational thinking returns. Zack has my right hand, Kallistos my left. I’m sitting on a chair.

  Ford’s cries are mo
re insistent now.

  The phone is no longer buzzing. The chain that Kallistos had been holding is now on the floor at my feet, covered in gore. It lies atop Lamont’s clothes, under a blanket of red ash.

  I look at Kallistos’ damaged hands, torn and bloody from the chains. I can see clear to the bone.

  Instinctively, I pull off my gloves and offer him my wrist. “Drink. It will help you heal.”

  Zack pushes my hand down. “Emma.”

  I shake my head at him and again offer Kallistos my wrist. Fangs gently pierce my flesh. Tongue circling, lapping, sucking. His arm wraps around my waist, he pulls me closer.

  After a moment, Zack says roughly, “Stop. You’ve taken enough!”

  Surprisingly, Kallistos releases me. “Not nearly,” he whispers, licking the wound. “It will never be enough.”

  Zack nods toward the table holding the carafes. “You’ve probably got a gallon of fresh YBV going to waste. If you need more, drink that.”

  Kallistos does. He downs one, two, three of the small carafes in the space of a heartbeat. He’s reaching for the fourth when Lamont’s phone buzzes again.

  I pick up the coat, red ash falling like a fine powder when I pull the cell from the pocket.

  Kallistos snatches it from my hands. “This is Kallistos Kouros.” The words echo in the chamber. “Your King is dead.”

  Suddenly, I become aware of the girls—released from thrall by the death of Lamont.

  The fog has cleared and they are screaming and crying, some huddled together, a few making a run for the staircase. Zack blocks their path. He’s holding his badge out in front of him. “We’re with the FBI.”

  Kallistos steps to them, and in the blink of an eye, the girls fall silent again. Their minds are restored for one fleeting moment, taken in the next.

  Kallistos is next to me.

  Then he’s not.

  He’s in front of Ford and Cheng.

  My gun is missing from the holster. Kallistos has it.

  “Long live the King,” he says.

  “No!” I run to him.

  A rose blossoms on Cheng’s chest and he drops. Blood like a red mist splashes my face.

  I grab his arm. “You shot Cheng! Why?”

  But Kallistos has bent his head to Ford’s neck and is breathing in his scent. “Fear.” He bares his fangs. “It’s been centuries since I had a blood slave. What is it they say? To the victor goes the spoils. I want to see what makes his blood so special.”

  I want to believe Kallistos is putting on a show. But it’s not a show. It’s real. Cheng is dead on the floor. Ford is howling in pain as Kallistos’ fangs ravage his neck. Kallistos sucks, hungrily, at the gaping wound. Blood drips down the front of Ford’s shirt.

  “Kallistos. No.” I grab his arm. “Ford is human.”

  When Kallistos looks at me, I hardly recognize him. His features have become feral. His eyes shine with unrestrained lust. A low rumbling emanates from somewhere deep in his chest. “You forget yourself, Emma,” he says. “I warned you. I told you I would do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. This is who I am.”

  I refuse to be intimidated. To give up. “This is not all you are,” I say softly. “Or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  He considers my words. Nods. His fangs retract. He gives Ford’s neck a tentative lick, then another, and another. The wound begins to close and heal.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Zack unlocks Ford’s cuffs.

  Weakened, Ford slumps against the door.

  Zack kneels down on the floor and releases the catch on Cheng’s cuffs. He turns Cheng’s face to the side. “Does he look familiar to you?”

  Recognition hits. “The last picture I saw of this guy was on a poster. He’s wanted for human trafficking.”

  CHAPTER 25

  “So that’s how they did it?” Zack asks Ford. “Lamont used Cheng to kidnap the girls? What did he promise him?”

  Ford replies without hesitation, the wound on his neck now all but erased. “What do you think? Wealth. Immortality, of course.”

  Just what the world needs. More immortal sleaze-bags.

  “What part did Asa Wade play in your plan?” I ask.

  “None,” replies Ford. “As far as I know, Asa came of his own accord. He had a score he wanted to settle. With Zack and his bitch.” He raises his hands in supplication. “Not my words. Not my fight. None of this is. Was.” He turns to Kallistos. “Please, let me go.”

  Kallistos appears to give it consideration, but is soon shaking his head. “You sound like your pansy-assed monarch. You think you deserve no punishment.”

  “I’m just as much a victim as they are,” Ford replies, gesturing to the girls.

  “Victim?” Kallistos snarls. “You were Lamont’s blood slave for how long? No. You voluntarily bound yourself to Lamont. You did it because you enjoyed the power and prestige the title awarded you. Don’t speak to me of being a victim. You want to see what a victim looks like?”

  Kallistos turns his back on Ford and gestures toward the girls.

  “Can you create some . . . reasonable memories to explain all of this so you can bring them out of it?” I ask, rubbing at my throat. The pain has eased and talking is no longer agony, but my voice is still rough.

  Kallistos wipes Ford’s blood from his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. “Of course.” He smiles at me. “But first—”

  He raises my gun once again and shoots Ford square in the chest. The act is so abrupt, so unexpected, I’m frozen in place. Zack isn’t. He’s poised to protect himself. To protect the girls. To protect me.

  Kallistos drops his arm. The barrel points toward the floor. “Relax,” he says to Zack. “It had to be done.”

  Ford is bleeding out in front of me. The red stain covering his shirt is getting larger and larger. I fall to my knees beside him and put pressure on the wound.

  “Undo this!” I beg.

  Kallistos shakes his head. “Ford was a witness.”

  “A witness to what?”

  “Zack killing his King. To save you.”

  Blood bubbles up from Ford’s mouth. He tries to speak.

  Kallistos kneels down beside me. “Cheng was a trafficker. I can fix it with the girls.” He sweeps a hand around the chamber. “I’ll plant the story that this was an attempt to auction them off. I’ll have Simon hack into the FBI hotline. Plant an anonymous tip. You and Zack caught it, followed Cheng from his hotel. He and Ford resisted arrest. I’ll get rid of the . . .” He searches for the word. “Unusual evidence. It will be as if Lamont was never here.”

  I’m too stunned to comment.

  Suddenly, Zack nods. “We can also use that angle to explain the money they’ve been earning from the Emporium in exchange for their blood. Chalk it up to Cheng’s attempt to groom the girls.”

  “Explain,” Kallistos says.

  They’re ignoring Ford, already writing him off as someone who can’t be saved. They’re right. I watch as he takes his last breath. A wave of nausea washes over me, but I have to push revulsion aside and focus on the matter at hand. We have two bodies and the clock is ticking.

  “It’s something traffickers do. They use different strategies, different techniques, but basically they increase dependency while at the same time assessing how compliant and malleable their victims might be. I say we stick closely to the story you told the girls. They were approached about participating in a medical research program. They had to show up when and where they were told for their weekly blood donations, a different place each week, no questions asked. And they had to maintain strict confidentiality. In exchange, they were paid. Once Cheng was convinced they would be a good prospect, he nabbed them.”

  I climb to my feet, wipe the sweat from my brow. “But Julie was earning far longer than the others,” I say.

  Zack doesn’t miss a beat. It’s unnerving how easily he weaves together the story. “He left her alone so that she could unwittingly help him recruit oth
ers. Again, it’s not an unusual strategy. We’ll say they used a bloodmobile. They would park it somewhere for a short period of time along the bus or trolley route so it would be easily accessible. Simon, you catching all this?”

  Simon’s voice comes across on my headset loud and clear. “I have the MTS bus and trolley schedules up for San Diego already. I’ll get my hands on some prepaid cells we can plant. If Kallistos can confirm the names of all the girls and the addresses for their schools, I can work it out. We’ll plant text messages. But I’m going to need backup to accomplish this quickly—two, maybe three hours. I have a couple buddies I can call.”

  “Do whatever you need to do,” Kallistos says. “As soon as the job is finished, we’ll dispatch someone to wipe their memories. And your memory when this is done. We can’t have any loose ends.”

  “Understood,” Simon replies without hesitation.

  Zack chimes in. “We can easily buy you the necessary time. If you can get the cell phones here, we’ll plant them in the room where the girls were held. They’ll be discovered. Forensics probably won’t start pulling phone records until tomorrow. Speaking of records, we could also use a bank account showing matching withdrawals that could also eventually be tied to Cheng.”

  “Simon?” Kallistos asks.

  “Got it,” he says.

  Kallistos looks up, his gaze on Zack. “Now we need to come to an agreement on how to clean up your mess.”

  “Zack’s mess?” I ask.

  Zack picks up the remains of Lamont’s clothes, holding them up with two fingers. “Yeah. It’s after Labor Day. I’m going to have a hell of a time getting rid of this white suit.” He gives the dirt floor a swipe with his boot, scattering the remnants of ash.

  “Do the two of you understand what’s happened here? Zack killed a sovereign.”

  “I also saved Emma’s ass,” Zack interjects.

  Kallistos ignores him. “A Were killed a vampire King.”

  “And saved Emma’s ass,” Zack says again, this time louder.

  Kallistos rounds on him. “Emma would have lived and you damn well know it. You were thinking with your dick, or your heart. Certainly not your head. If this becomes known, we risk a war that will affect more than the supernatural community. The violence will spill over to the mortal world, too. No one will be safe.” He turns back to speak to me, voice softer. “Lamont was in my territory. He’d taken my people. Waged war on my Kingdom. And he died by my hands. No one can know it was Zack, not ever.”