Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1)

by Trish Heinrich

  “I like how that sounds.”

  Alice was now certain she saw one of the men on the floor move, but was it friend or foe?

  “Now, I know,” Percy went on, leaning forward so his face was only half in shadow, “that one of you can make me piss myself in seconds, and that the other one of you is almost invincible. But the third one,” he pointed his gun right at Alice, “has no special powers, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Alice tensed, ready for the shot she was sure was coming. Lionel dove in front of her. But when the shot rang out, it was Marco that fell back with a shout of pain.

  There was a second where everything stopped and Alice felt her world spin as she saw Marco laying in shock and pain on the floor.

  Then he started to turn, his hand over his chest where Rose’s body armor had apparently caught the bullet.

  A breath of profound relief was all she had time for as all hell broke loose.

  The men lying on the floor weren’t all dead, and they had been moving, surrounding Alice, Lionel, and Marco as Percy talked. She shot the nearest one with two serpent bites as he started to get to his feet, and hoped it was enough to at least slow him down, as she ducked under the punch of a second assailant.

  Lionel grunted nearby, doubling over as a man hit him. Alice thought he must have a pipe or bat or something, but when she saw his empty hands Alice started to understand.

  The drugs didn’t just make them more resilient, it made them stronger, too.

  With great trepidation, she drew her batons. Her lessons had proceeded well, but she’d never drawn them in a fight until now.

  “Down!” she shouted as another hit made Lionel double up.

  He dropped to a knee and Alice launched herself off his back, bringing her baton down on the man’s head before landing behind him. He was dazed enough for Lionel to finish him off, which was good, because another man dove right for her. She brought the baton across the man’s face, but he blocked her, grabbing her wrist. She was close enough to kick him in the groin. When he doubled over she brought her other baton straight at his face, blood splattering from the impact.

  Despite this, the man only stumbled back, dazed for a moment, before launching himself at her. She fell with him to the floor, landing hard on her back, something wet beneath her.

  He brought his hand up to punch her and she jerked away at the last second, his hand connecting to the floor with a crunching sound. She shifted, bringing her legs up and over. With one quick motion, she flipped him to his side, his arm in her grip. She pulled up hard. The elbow popped, but in that instant a boot flew towards Alice’s face, knocking her back. She felt blood in her mouth and bright spots blew up in her vision as her grip went limp. She felt herself being lifted by the front of her vest, and then a hard blow crashed into her stomach, pushing all the air out of her. She couldn’t breathe.

  Only one serpent bite left, not enough to bring her attacker down, but maybe enough to startle him into dropping her. She tried to bring her arm up, but he grabbed it and twisted. The gauntlet didn’t let him break her wrist, but it still strained something. She felt a pop and screamed in pain.

  She could hear her name being called and the sound of gunshots, as a fist careened toward her face, followed by an explosion of pain from her jaw.

  Another gunshot rang out and she was dropped to the floor, landing hard on her injured wrist. When she tried to cry out, the pain from moving her jaw was like nails being driven into her skull.

  All around her was chaos, as more gunfire erupted. Someone shouted her name again and Alice wanted desperately to get to them, but couldn’t see who it was.

  Surrounded by the fighting, and in no position to be able to defend herself, Alice felt panic rise in her throat. With grunts of pain, she drug herself toward the far end of the restaurant. Her vision began to get dark around edges, as each movement brought fresh waves of pain from her wrist and jaw, but she pressed on.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and Alice tried to wrench herself away.

  “It’s me,” Lionel said, slipping his arm under her.

  She moaned as he picked her up, her mind starting to go fuzzy.

  He gasped. “Oh god, hang on, I’m going to get help.”

  A distant kind of consciousness began to overtake her as Lionel carried her outside to a waiting squad car. In tremendous pain, tears fell down her rapidly swelling face.

  Two people got in the car with her, one of them kept saying something to her and the other hissed in pain. As the car pulled away with a squeal of sirens and tires, Alice felt more and more like a spectator to her injuries.

  At some point in the pain-induced haze, the car stopped and someone picked her up. Alice wanted to fall asleep. She tried to ask if she could, but excruciating pain shot through her head and she cried out.

  “It’s okay,” a voice said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Put her down there. Tie this around Marco’s shoulder and make it tight.”

  Marco...Marco was shot!

  Alice’s mind cleared for a moment and she tried to sit up, but someone was holding her down. She looked in panic at Gerald’s weathered face and tried to speak.

  “Hold still,” he snapped, and she felt the tiny sting of an injection.

  The fogginess returned, and Alice couldn’t remember why she’d been so afraid. Who was it for? Why did her face hurt?

  Before she could ask, a blessed sleep overcame her.

  The first thing Alice was aware of was the smell of burnt coffee.

  The second was nauseating pain.

  “Alice?” Marco asked.

  She tried to open her eyes, but only one obeyed her. After a few moments of forced blinking, Marco finally came into focus, his thin lips smiling, cuts and bruises on his long face.

  It took another minute or two for Alice to realize he was shirtless. Her eyes strayed from the bandage on his shoulder to a huge purple bruise on his chest. She reached out slowly, as if her hand was reluctant to obey, and brushed her fingertips over the bruise.

  He caught her fingers in his warm hand.

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  Alice wanted to call him a liar, but her mouth was too dry and her jaw hurt when she tried to move it.

  “Awake are we?” Gerald said, his dark face showing the falsehood of the nonchalance in his voice.

  “What...?” she croaked, wincing with the effort.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Gerald said, fingers checking her pulse. “I’ve fixed your broken jaw, but it’ll be sore for a few days, and the concussion was mild, all things considered. There were some torn tendons in your wrist, which I’ve also repaired, but you still shouldn’t use it for a few days, so I splinted it. You’ve got some bad bruising on your face and your eye is swollen shut. I did what I could to help it all heal quickly, but I can’t rush it too much. You’re just going to have to deal with it for a few days.”

  She tried to nod, but the effort brought a fresh wave of pain. Her gaze swung to Marco and the bruise on his chest. Without the under-armor he’d have died. Tears welled as she looked into his brown eyes, realizing how easily she could lose him. The thought made her throat close up and her chest constrict.

  “Hey,” Marco said, smiling down at her. “I’m okay, honest. Gerald took care of the shoulder and this hurts a little, but it’s going to be fine.”

  Her fingers tightened on his hand, a desperate need to hold onto him making her cry even more. She wanted to tell him how impossible it would be to recover from losing him, how an essential part of herself would be lost if he died. But the pain in her jaw wouldn’t let her, and in the end, she drew his hand toward her, pulling him in close. He knelt, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

  “You took quite a beating,” Marco whispered.

  “She’s going to need to go back to her loft and rest,” Gerald said, loading up a needle with what Alice could only assume was a painkiller.

  “Logan should be here soon,” Marco
said, his fingers caressing her forehead absently. “But we can stay with her until then, you don’t have to.”

  Gerald nodded. “She’ll need someone to be there in the morning, just to make sure she doesn’t do too much. Rest is what she needs.”

  “We can do that, too,” Lionel said from the doorway.

  Marco jumped up, a look of guilt flashing across his face. And was Lionel looking jealous? No, he couldn’t be, could he? It all confused Alice, but she couldn’t latch onto any thoughts as the painkiller started making her mind fuzzy.

  Sleep was closing in on her, but before she succumbed, Alice had to know something. She looked up at Marco, opening her mouth just a little.

  “We got him,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “But...he’s not...”

  “Garrick shot him,” Lionel said, still keeping his distance. “It was the only way to get him off you.”

  Shock kept her awake a moment longer. Percy had been the one who’d beat her, and Garrick shot him.

  No trial, no way to discover who else was involved, except to go back to Douglas.

  Her mind fought to stay awake, to take all this in, but the painkiller Gerald had given her was too strong. Before she could react much at all, sleep covered her mind in a warm blanket.

  It was almost comical, the sight of three grown men jumping every time she moved or sighed. No need was too small for their notice, no desire unattainable. If she wanted ice cream, Marco was out the door before she could tell him what flavor. If she wanted a book, Uncle Logan ran down to the shop and insisted on reading to her. And if her room began to annoy her with its lack of anything interesting to look at, Lionel was there to lift her up and carry her to the couch.

  All of it was nice for the first half of the first day, and then Alice began to be annoyed. She was injured, but healing at an incredible speed. There wasn’t a need to be waited on hand and foot!

  By the afternoon of the third day, she’d had more than enough of being coddled.

  “Where are you going?” Uncle Logan asked, rushing toward her.

  “To the bathroom,” Alice said.

  “Here I’ll—” Lionel said, reaching for her.

  “I can walk to the toilet!”

  Lionel and Uncle Logan looked at her like anxious parents seeing their toddler walk for the first time. It felt so good to be back on her own two feet that she started to walk a little faster, and immediately regretted it. Her head started to throb and feel cloudy. She grasped her sparring dummy until it passed, refusing to look behind her at the men who were just waiting for any sign that they should swoop in and help.

  Once she was finally in the bathroom, with the door closed, she sat down on the toilet with a sigh of relief. The world took a while to right itself and once it did, she was more frustrated than ever.

  “I better be past this tomorrow,” she murmured.

  Apparently, she’d taken more time in the bathroom than she thought, because when Alice opened the door, Lionel and Uncle Logan sprang at her. Her body ached and her head began to pound like someone was beating it with a hammer, but she forced a smile and shuffled to the couch. Uncle Logan was there to fluff the pillows and Lionel handed her a bowl of re-heated beef stew that Marco had made.

  “Where is Marco?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t seen him since yesterday.

  “Got called in on assignment,” Uncle Logan smiled. “Said to tell you he’d make cinnamon rolls tomorrow, if you wanted.”

  A hard knock on the door cut off Alice’s retort that what she wanted was to be left alone.

  “Where is she?” said a harsh voice Alice instantly recognized.

  “Come in,” Lionel said, as Mrs. Frost pushed her way past him.

  Her piercing blue eyes looked Alice over, the wrinkles on her face deepening with her frown. She turned a steely gaze on Uncle Logan. “You did not inform me that she was this bad.”

  “Well, she is,” he said.

  Alice looked from one to the other as they stood on either side of her.

  “I see.” Mrs. Frost placed both hands on the head of her cane. “You blame me, do you?”

  “I just don’t think you need to know everything.”

  “I will inform Gerald that he needs to attend to his patient and get her fit.”

  “You will not! She needs time to heal, she’s not a machine!”

  Mrs. Frost opened her mouth to respond, but Alice had reached her limit.

  “Enough! I’m not fragile, and you should’ve told her. And Gerald has done all he can do, so don’t bother him.”

  Uncle Logan’s stubbled jaw tightened and he glared at Mrs. Frost for a moment longer before going to make himself a drink.

  Mrs. Frost turned her gaze on Alice and sat down.

  “I assume they have not been keeping you informed.”

  “About what?”

  “She doesn’t need to know this right now,” Uncle Logan said. “What can she do about it?”

  Alice stared at him.

  “What is it? Why are you keeping things from me?”

  “It wasn’t just him,” Lionel said.

  “Unbelievable!”

  “Yes, quite,” Mrs. Frost said, giving both men a cold stare. “She deserves to be treated with equality by the two of you, not as some wilting violet.”

  What’s happened in the world to make Mrs. Frost and I in agreement for a change?

  “Now,” Mrs. Frost turned her attention to Alice. “This will not be easy for you to hear, but you need to know. Last night, Victoria Veran returned home after a fund raiser to discover her two children and her husband murdered in their home.”

  Alice’s stomach fell.

  “Oh god...Oh my god...is Victoria alright? I mean, was she-?”

  “She is alive,” Mrs. Frost said. “But we need to know if this is a random crime or somehow tied into the Syndicate. If perhaps Diana and Victoria were working on something that threatened their interests.”

  A thought broke through the shock in Alice’s mind, but she couldn’t quite believe it.

  “What...what if it was to get revenge on me?”

  Lionel frowned. “How would they know you’re the Serpent?”

  “Douglas,” Uncle Logan’s voice was thick with loathing. “He could’ve figured it out and told his superiors.”

  “If that is true,” Mrs. Frost said. “Then they would have done something far more personal to you than kill Victoria’s family. No, this is something else. You must keep your eyes and mind open to find out what.”

  Alice jumped as the phone let out a shrill ring. Uncle Logan’s face was grim as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He made some assurances to them and hung up, running his hand over his face. After a minute, he drained his glass of whiskey.

  “That was the prison, Douglas has been stabbed. He’s stable now and in the infirmary. They have him under constant guard, but they aren’t sure what good that will do, since the man who stabbed him was a guard.”

  Alice clenched her jaw against the pain her head and set her feet on the floor.

  “I need to get dressed.”

  “And do what?” Lionel asked, putting a large hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  “I have to talk to him, find out what is going on. What Phantasm’s next moves are likely to be...and if he knows who I am.”

  “You aren’t going to ask him?” Uncle Logan said.

  “I’m not stupid, no! I’ll be subtle.”

  Lionel’s hand on her shoulder tightened. “This can wait until—”

  “What? Until Phantasm blows something up or kills someone else? We can’t sit around here and wait for him to strike!”

  “She is right,” Mrs. Frost said. “This could be the attack aimed at you or simply teaching Douglas to keep his mouth shut, since he likely told you something he should not have. Either way, you need to find out what you can.”

  “Maybe Victoria’s family wasn’t connected to any of this,” Lionel said. “Maybe it was random or an
attack on the Veran Corporation.”

  Mrs. Frost shook her head.

  “I thought of that as well, but if someone wanted to hurt the Corporation, they should have taken care of Victoria. No, this is something else. Right now, however, you need to focus on Douglas, let me find out what I can about the Veran’s.”

  “I’ll take you to the prison,” Lionel said.

  Alice nodded. She wanted to believe that Victoria’s family being murdered was just a tragic event and had nothing to do with taking out Percy, but she couldn’t shake the guilt that had settled like a lead ball in her gut.

  Warm summer air bathed her face as she sped through the city with Lionel, Elvis crooning on the radio. The car stopped far too soon, and Lionel helped her out. She stood for a moment, eyes closed, letting the bright sun warm her skin.

  Lionel’s hand touched her elbow, snapping Alice back to reality, the prison looming in front of them.

  “Here.” He handed her a pair of large sunglasses to hide the still-healing bruises around her eyes.

  “Not your style,” she said, slipping them on. “Who do they belong to?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  “One day, you’ll have to settle down, you know.”

  Lionel grinned. “Maybe you could help me with that.”

  Her stomach flipped. “If you ask very nicely.”

  He laughed and offered her his arm. She tried not to lean too heavily on him, but couldn’t help it. If she moved too fast her head began to swim. Falling on her rear wouldn’t help right now.

  The usual guard wasn’t there to meet her and Alice wondered if he had been the one to stab Douglas. The thought made her skin crawl. They were ushered down a different hallway than usual, with walls that were a cheerful lemon yellow and the floors that gleamed. Cheap prints of European landmarks were evenly spaced between office and exam room doors. A distinct hospital-like smell wafted around them.

  After taking two turns, they came to a light blue door with a sign that said Quarantine in large, red letters. Two guards with bored expressions stood outside. When she told them her name, they simply nodded and unlocked the door.