Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1)

by Trish Heinrich

  They slipped inside the warehouse door, careful not to trip over the two men who were passed out beside it. Alice glanced at Marco, his eyes black, an ephemeral cloak of shadow twining itself around him like a living thing. A moment of fear closed around her throat, and then she reminded herself who this was. Under all the shadows and power, it was still Marco, that would never change.

  The ground floor was full of the dark outlines of huge machines, making Alice feel like a bug in a strange forest. The chill of autumn had settled into the space, cooling the sweat that trickled down her back and legs.

  They rounded a corner and saw the stairs that led up to a glass-enclosed office with the shades drawn. Alice and Lionel crouched low to stay hidden, while Marco reached out, dark tendrils flowing toward two men. One of them started to weep like a child, while the other one fell on all fours, cowering from something none of the them could see.

  Lionel ran for the stairs, Alice right behind him. Without a word, he picked her up and jumped straight up, landing outside the office with a heavy thump.

  He’d just set her down when the door was jerked open and three men came running out. The first two went straight for Lionel, who punched one hard enough to lift him off the floor. The third grinned down at Alice.

  “What are you supposed to be?”

  She smiled, grabbing his arm as he tried to punch her. Pivoting, she knelt and threw him over her shoulder, and then pulled his arm until his elbow gave a loud pop. His scream echoed through the landing outside the office.

  Not trusting that to keep him out of the fight, she kicked him across the face.

  Behind her, Lionel gave a grunting shout. She turned and saw two men hitting him with pipes. The nearest one had his back to her, so she ran up and brought her foot down hard onto the back of the man’s knee, throwing him off balance. A swift kick to the face and he was down.

  For just a moment she felt a thrill of victory, and dropped her guard. They could really do this!

  Then someone tackled her from behind and her face hit the floor hard. She felt warm blood on her cheek and her ears rang.

  “Darts!” Marco yelled.

  She hesitated. She could do this without Rose’s cheats.

  Driving her elbow up and into the face of her attacker, she rolled over onto as he jerked away from her, and within moments had him on his back. The shock of the blow to the head made her a little slower than usual, still it wasn’t something the man had anticipated. Taking advantage of his surprise, Alice drove her fist down into his face, blood spurting from between the man’s lips. Reaching back to hit him again, Alice’s arm was jerked back as someone lifted her up.

  This new assailant dragged her by her arms away from the door as a mysterious man in a wide brimmed hat and a beefy man with a square face bolted for the stairs. She knew the beefy one had to be Jamison. Hate boiled in her belly as she saw him running away.

  “No!” she screamed.

  She used the dart then, firing blindly into the man holding her. It must’ve been a decent shot because he released his grip, and fell to the ground. She could see Lionel fighting off a very large man, and Marco was nowhere in sight. Jamison had just gotten to the bottom of the stairs. She couldn’t let him get away!

  Running halfway down the stairs, she climbed onto the hand rail and launched herself at Jamison, barely hearing Lionel’s scream of warning.

  She fell into him and they tumbled to the ground. It was easy to pin him, though he was a large man. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she should dart him and drag him out, but the fury of Aunt Diana’s death came crashing in on her. Her fists barreled down again and again, a scream of rage flying from her lips.

  Then, the hard barrel of a gun pressed against her back and stopped her cold.

  “Get up,” hissed a voice.

  Slowly, her legs shaking, Alice got to her feet.

  Jamison stumbled up, backhanding her as soon as he was upright. A second blow followed the first, opening the cut on her cheek further.

  “Your friends leave you?” he sneered.

  She spat at him, getting a punch across the face in return. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

  He grabbed the gun from the other man, pointed it at her head and cocked it. A cold fear burst inside of her, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Keeping her eyes on his, Alice tried to unleash all the hate and anger inside of her through that stare.

  Jamison’s green eyes became huge, and he choked with fear. The man behind Alice gave a cry of panic and crawled away. Alice didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Jamison, intending to throw him to the ground. But, she hadn’t counted on the gun, which suddenly went off, and the fear on his face vanished instantly.

  The shot had hit Marco, wherever he’d been hiding.

  Realizing her mistake, Alice tried to shoot a dart at Jamison, but Lionel got there first. He punched Jamison, the impact throwing him to the ground. Loud shouts and the heavy tramp of feet echoed throughout the warehouse behind them.

  Lionel grabbed her and ran for the door.

  “Jamison,” she said, pulling away.

  “We can’t! No time!”

  “I can dart him!”

  But it was too late. Lionel burst out of the door, pulling Alice with him.

  “Shadow!”

  “He’s going to meet us in the alley.”

  Three sets of headlights screamed around a corner.

  “Shit!” Lionel said, running.

  She had no choice but to follow him, doing her best to keep up with his long stride. They could hear angry shouts behind them and Alice hoped no one was following them.

  Marco was sitting near the Lightning when they bolted around the corner, his right arm hanging at his side, blue sleeve wet with blood.

  The shouts were getting closer. They’d been followed.

  “Get him on the bike,” Alice ordered, straddling it and starting the engine. “It’ll be faster and safer than you jumping over the rooftops.”

  Marco settled behind her, gasping with pain. Lionel gave them one worried stare before jumping up onto the third floor fire escape and onto the roof.

  “Hold on,” she ordered, tearing out of the alley, the ping of ricocheting bullets behind them.

  Alice hid the Lightning once again down an alley, this time behind Gerald’s clinic in Park Side. One light was on, and after Marco knocked four times on the back door, it opened. The back room, which Alice had always thought was a store room, had a table and instruments at the ready. Gerald’s dark eyes were serious as he ordered Marco to take his shirt off. Alice slid her cowl off, the cool air welcome on her sweaty head. In spite of the seriousness of it all, she was surprised to feel a moment of admiration for Marco’s well-muscled torso. He’d been skinny to the point of frailty when they were kids. But now...she blushed and asked Gerald how it looked.

  “The bullet went through, missed any bones,” Gerald prodded gently and Marco sucked in a sharp breath.

  For a small wound, it was bleeding quite a lot.

  Another knock sounded, and Alice opened it to let Lionel in. The moment he was in the clinic, he ripped his mask off and glared at her.

  “What the hell was that?” he demanded. “You should’ve used your darts! Or waited for me! I would’ve been right behind you and we could’ve had him. But you tore off by yourself.”

  “You were a little busy,” she said, not sure if she was angrier at him or herself.

  “Why didn’t you use your darts?” Marco asked through clenched teeth.

  “Because...I don’t know. I’m not used to them, I guess. What does it matter? I almost brought him down without them!”

  “But you didn’t,” Lionel said. “And because of you—”

  “No, Lionel,” Marco said, laying back against the table.

  “Marco got shot!”

  “Not her fault.”

  “Take this argument somewhere else!” Gerald said, eyes blazing. “He’s not clotting fast enough and I ne
ed to concentrate.”

  Lionel marched into the adjoining room and slammed the door, but Alice didn’t want to leave Marco. She went to his other side, and noticed how pale he was.

  Marco tried to grin at her, but it came out as a grimace.

  “I’ll be...fine. No...worry.”

  “Go,” Gerald said, closing his eyes in deep concentration as he used his gift.

  Guilt made her want to stay, but Gerald was in charge.

  She went into the next room and found Lionel sitting in a chair, his face in his hands. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes smoldered with worry.

  “This could’ve been you,” he said. “That gun to your head...he almost killed you.”

  “But, he didn’t, because of Marco.”

  Lionel nodded, and then laughed.

  “Why do I still feel so responsible for him? He can reduce anyone to a sobbing mess in seconds, but I still feel like I need to take care of him. And now there’s you...I can’t watch out for both of you.”

  “Who says you have to?” She knelt in front of him. “We both know the risks and we accept them. None of us are kids anymore.”

  A hint of a smile graced his lips, and his eyes looked almost tender as they scanned her face. But then he frowned and shook his head.

  “Why didn’t you use your darts?”

  She sighed, anger blossoming once more. How many more times was he going to ask that?

  “I know I made a mistake—”

  “And it cost us.”

  “I know!” She jumped up, pacing the room in short strides. “You don’t think I’m furious with myself right now? I know I screwed up! Let it go!”

  “Let it go?” He got up, anger darkening his face.

  “Yes! Do you think you’re helping by driving the guilt in deeper?”

  Lionel opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and out came Gerald. His frown was annoyed to say the least.

  “He’ll be fine. Stitched him up, and with what I was able to do, he should be completely healed in a few days. But in the meantime, he should rest. He needs time to replace the blood he lost.”

  “Thank you, Gerald,” Alice said.

  He glanced at her, and then walked up to Lionel. Toe to toe, Lionel was at least seven inches taller than Gerald, but the older man still somehow managed to make Lionel look like a scolded child, as he drove his finger into Lionel’s chest and fixed him with a firm stare.

  “A good leader gives people the chance to learn from their mistakes, gives people time to become a team. You can’t do that...well then, maybe you shouldn’t have this job.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lionel whispered.

  Gerald turned his dark eyes on Alice and she looked down at her boots.

  “And you, when someone gives you a weapon, you use it. You’ve got good instincts, Alice, use them, or next time this could be worse. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Right then. Let’s get a look at you.”

  Alice had forgotten about her face until Gerald’s gentle fingers prodded the cut. She winced at the sharp pain, knowing she’d also have a fine set of bruises to go with it in the morning.

  A tingling, cold jolt went through her, the pain dulled, and a strong impulse to close her eyes overwhelmed her. Suddenly, she found herself being eased onto a couch by Lionel’s huge hands.

  “Is that...normal?” she asked.

  “The first time or two, yeah,” Gerald said. “I don’t do something this strong for most people. You might feel a little sore the next few days, but nothing too bad.”

  She patted her cheek and was amazed to feel a scab where the gash had been.

  “Give Marco a few hours to sleep, then get him home. Hopefully I won’t see you back here for a while.”

  And with that, Gerald slipped into his worn coat and was out the door.

  Lionel sat next to Alice on the couch, an uncomfortable silence between them. When she dared sneak a glance at him, he was staring at the floor, his beautiful face etched with worry.

  Slowly, not sure he’d welcome any comfort from her, Alice took his hand in hers. It was square and warm, the fingers so long they made hers look like a child’s. He twitched a little at the contact, giving her a quick squeeze and a boyish smile before jumping up from the couch.

  “I think Gerald has a coffeemaker around here — want a cup?”

  She nodded, trying very hard to push away the feeling of rejection that welled up in her throat.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The coffee was cold, and so was Alice, but she didn’t want to go back inside. Frost sparkled on the front lawn of Uncle Logan’s house and Alice wondered if anyone had bothered to cut back Aunt Diana’s rose bushes.

  I should’ve thought of that before now.

  She snuggled deeper into the thick blanket and picked at the peeling paint on the porch swing.

  It had been almost a week since they failed to catch Jamison, and though the office above the warehouse had contained some incriminating documents, the police had yet to find him. Alice, Lionel, and Marco had gone to every suspected place of syndicate business, but besides some low-level drug pushers, their search yielded nothing of real use.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Uncle Logan had said. “You came home safe, that...that should be enough.”

  But it wasn’t. Not for her, and though he would never say it, not for him. The person that ordered Aunt Diana to be killed still walked the earth, breathed air.

  Mrs. Frost had demanded a full account and sniffed out what Alice wasn’t telling her almost immediately. She’d expected a tirade, a lecture, something. But what she got instead was far worse. Mrs. Frost’s wrinkled face frowned at her, back straight as she sat in her chair, hands folded over the head of her cane, like a dowager Queen looking on the new, lesser Monarch.

  “You’ve learned a lesson, I think,” was all she’d said.

  “Yeah: don’t be stupid,” Alice murmured.

  She knew what had to happen next. Everyone had tried to talk her out of it. But when it was clear she wasn’t going to change her mind; Uncle Logan had made arrangements.

  Just the thought of seeing her father again made Alice’s mouth dry and her stomach twist like she was going to be sick. Against her will, flashes of that last beating kept coming into her mind, phantom lashes stinging her skin. She closed her eyes tight against them, trying so hard to remind herself that she wasn’t helpless anymore.

  “I’m strong,” she whispered. “I’m strong and I can do this. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

  The screen door creaked open and Alice could tell by the light tread that Marco had ventured out. The smell of pancakes and bacon drifted toward her, making her stomach growl.

  “I thought you’d be hungry by now,” he said, smiling down at her.

  The gentleness of his look banished the dark memories and she took the offered plate.

  “Join me?” she asked, scooting over.

  The swing was just barely big enough for the two of them. Before he could protest, Alice threw some of the blanket over Marco and leaned against his side, his body radiating a welcome heat.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, when he shifted.

  “Yeah, the arm doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “I still don’t know why he couldn’t just heal it completely.”

  “Says it’s better if my body works with his powers. I don’t know, I’m not the doctor.”

  He grinned down at her, his brown eyes dancing, and then opened a small paperback and began reading as she shoveled the hot food in her mouth. Alice snuggled a little closer, and without a word, Marco raised his long arm for her to settle beneath. She turned so that her back was against his side, his arm draped over the back of the swing. It was tempting to grab that long, calloused hand and hold it, or bring his arm around her shoulders, making him hug her tight, but instead, Alice took a large bite of syrup-drenched pancakes.

  “Did you make these?” she asked, her voice muffled from the amo
unt of food in her mouth.

  “Yeah.”

  “I bet Uncle Logan is grateful. I can barely boil an egg.”

  Marco laughed. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Don’t ask me to prove it, you might not survive the experience.” She leaned back and smiled up at him.

  There was a moment, when their chuckles had faded and Alice was still looking up at him, that it seemed as if Marco began to lean down, his brown eyes resting on her lips. But then he blinked, and looked back at his book.

  Alice sat up. “How did you learn to cook?”

  He shrugged. “I was always curious about it and Mom started teaching me just after you moved. Then, after Mom died, I had to do the cooking for Dad and me. What she taught me stuck and I just kind of filled in whatever I didn’t know.”

  “I still can’t believe she died so soon after I left.”

  Marco nodded. “Sometimes...I still want to call her and tell her something, hear her voice.”

  Alice did touch his hand then, wrapping her small fingers around his and squeezing.

  “Didn’t mean to bring us down even more than we already are.”

  “You still pouting about that?”

  Her eyes snapped wide as she turned to look at him.

  “What?”

  “Let it go,” he said, meeting her stare. “You keep beating yourself up about it when you should be learning from it and moving on.”

  “You’re not the one who cost us Jamison.”

  “No, I’m not. Doesn’t mean I haven’t screwed up a mission before.”

  “Lionel blames me.”

  Marco shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

  She looked down, stomach twisting again.

  “You don’t have to go,” Marco said, as if he had read her mind.

  “We’ve talked about this already,” she said, trying to sound much more confident than she felt. “Uncle Logan and I have talked about it. Lionel and I almost punched each other over it.”

  “He just wants to protect you.”

  “And there’s our problem.”

  The screen door creaked open again and Uncle Logan stuck his head out. His eyes were even more bloodshot, the circles underneath more like trenches, and Alice wondered if his hair would ever stay close to his scalp again, considering how much he was running his hands through the gray curls.