by Justin Sloan
Enforcer HQ
Jackson approached Enforcer HQ, moving his neck to work out the kinks after the way Valerie had tossed him around. Damn, he was going to miss her. It was weird knowing that, on the one hand his body was going to go through withdrawal pangs while she was gone, and yet he’d finally have a chance to heal from her wild passion.
He wasn’t sure if he should laugh at the way he felt, or cry, at what he was going through physically. Mentally though, he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that she was leaving. Having led his people for so long, he’d come to know loss, and he had definitely learned how to not hold out hope when they went off to accomplish something they needed to do. When that involved revenge, they rarely returned.
Then again, this was Valerie. He had seen firsthand what she was capable of, and had no doubts that it would be incredibly difficult to hurt her, let alone kill her.
But not impossible.
He reached the streets around the building and stopped to stare at the security this place had now. It was no joke. While Strake had ruled with terror, ensuring no one would cause problems because they feared retribution, Colonel Donnoly and the new regime apparently didn’t want to take any chances. With the bombings and other attacks that had happened a couple of months back, he couldn’t blame them.
The Weres had managed to drag in and set up concrete blocks in staggered positions around the entrance. Also, sniper positions had been set up with sentries, not only on this building, but on several of the surrounding rooftops and in windows overlooking the area.
If anyone tried to rush the building here, they’d be splattered on the ground before stepping two feet. Judging by the reinforced steel and whatnot surrounding the base of the building, explosions wouldn’t do much either. Sure, there were still ways he imagined people could cause damage if they set their minds to it, but he was impressed.
“Mercer, my old pal,” Dreg, the werebear said, stepping up and looking him up and down. The guy was short but built like a tank with muscles thick as trees. Jackson had heard the whole story of how Valerie met the guy selling blood, so wasn’t quite sure how much he liked him or trusted him. The fact that they were giving the guy a job with the cops made him even warier.
So, when Dreg motioned for his weapons, Jackson’s first instinct was to hit the guy in the throat. But he had come here with a purpose, so he handed over his pistol and the blade on his belt.
“You have a reason to be here?” Dreg asked.
“Do you?”
Dreg chuckled. “To turn assholes like you around and kick you to the curb.”
“Try it. Better yet, hurt me while you’re at it, and see if Valerie lets you keep that ugly head of yours.”
That sobered Dreg right up, but as he stepped aside and motioned for him to continue on, he mumbled, “Hiding behind your girlfriend will only save you for so long, pal.”
“I can hold my own,” Jackson said, more to himself, since he was already past, moving for the door.
He went through more rounds of security, saying hello to the various Weres and cops he had come to know over the last couple of months. They trusted him, but still weren’t taking any chances. After everything they had been through with Ella and others, everyone had to be checked.
The elevator ride up gave him time to consider how much he was going to miss Valerie. She had grown on him over the last couple of months, as if she had always been part of his life. Now that she was talking about leaving, he would have more time to spend with his people, to tutor Lorain, and to be the leader they needed. No, the leader they deserved.
Times were still tough, what with Morgan still at large. Too many on both sides had been wounded or worse, and he meant to ensure that stopped as soon as Valerie was gone, even if it meant reaching some sort of peace with Morgan.
He reached his floor and found the door shut, so stood outside of Colonel Donnoly’s office, waiting patiently and staring at a painting of the fight with Valerie’s brother, Donovan. It was dark, with blimps filling the sky, lightning shooting in purple and silver streaks.
The fact that anyone had time to paint for pleasure intrigued him. Then again, there were still the elite of society who seemed to be established enough that they could simply have others working for them, and there were still those who would sponge off their parents, while their parents struggled with two or more jobs.
“You like it?” a voice said, and he turned to see Wallace approaching.
“It’s quite well done.”
“Thank you,” Wallace said. “It’s mine.”
“As in… you bought it?”
“As in I painted it.” Wallace shrugged. “Just something I’ve been doing between visits with Ella.”
“I had no idea you had it in you,” Jackson said leaning back to examine the painting. Flawless. “That explains the chaotic feel.”
Wallace let out a sorrowful laugh. “It’s the only way I’ve figured out how to cope with all this. I have to believe we can get her back, after she’s proven herself.”
“Proven herself?” Realization dawned on Jackson. “The raids… she’s been giving you all information?”
Wallace nodded. “I hate to use her this way, but… she did betray us, even attacked Valerie in that bar. Why we keep that place open is beyond me—so many problems!”
“Probably because you know Cammie would come in here and bite your head off if you tried to mess with her haunt.”
“My man, that lady is scary.”
Jackson chuckled, staring back at the painting and getting lost in the small strokes near the bottom, in the dark alleys, which he guessed to be the forces fighting.
“And you?” Wallace stood next to him, also assessing his work. “You seem to be… bothered.”
Jackson stared a moment longer, not sure how much he could say about Valerie’s decision. They would have to be let in on it, and he came to do just that and more. But how to explain it?
He glanced at the main doors
“Come on,” Wallace said, nodding to the doors. “Let’s tell the big guy he can’t keep you waiting.”
Jackson nodded, but paused. “Wallace, more assassins… and this time, one was at the café, waiting. I think we have a mole.”
“Damn.” Wallace looped his thumbs into his belt, looking in deep thought. “Someone’s telling the Forsaken where they can find Valerie?”
“Or where to get to her loved ones, yeah. Can you…?”
“Oh, of course. We’ll double up security there, and in the whole area. But, damn.” He glanced over to Jackson and his brow furrowed. “Wait, you’re not saying, Ella?”
Jackson shook his head. “I have no idea. Does she have outside access?”
“No, and her issue was with allowing vampires to be in charge, not so much a loyalty to the CEOs. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wants to see them go down as much as the rest of us.”
“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious from the others then.” Jackson nodded to show he was ready, and together they walked to the large oak doors. “If it’s one of my people, you might have to arrest me or there’s going to be a trail of blood in this city from where I drag this traitor’s corpse behind me for all to see.”
“Jackson, that’s nasty.”
Jackson laughed. “We need to show these people that the old days are gone.”
Wallace paused, hand on the left door. “By filling them with terror? I’d say rule of law, show them that we’re different than the last lot. That we stand with them to see this city safe, not over them.”
“And that’s why you wear the uniform, isn’t it?” Jackson gave a curt nod to show he was done with this conversation, and just then the elevator dinged behind them.
The elevator slid open and then Royland and Cammie entered, sharing a laugh.
“I miss something?” Donnoly’s voice came from behind, where Jackson hadn’t realized, but the man had opened the door and now stood, waiting.
Cammie glanced between him and the ot
hers, and just shrugged. “Nothing that’s any of your business.”
Royland blushed.
“Well then, if you’d all come in.” Donnoly didn’t seem to care one bit that Cammie had her little secrets, though it ate at Jackson. Everyone else seemed to be partnering up, based on the look Royland was giving her, while he and Valerie would soon be taking a break. So that she could rush off to arguably the most dangerous situation she had ever found herself in, while many of her allies who had helped her along the way would stay back here, wondering if she was safe.
It would be tough, but it wasn’t like he had never dealt with loss and grief. Plus, if anyone could survive, it was Valerie.
They entered and Donnoly took his spot at the head of the table. “Sorry to keep you all waiting. We’ve just had a raid on one of the underground compounds, and guess what we found?”
“Blood,” Royland said, sure of his guess.
Donnoly nodded. “Strake might be gone and the CEOs off doing who knows what, but the blood trade is still alive. Ella might even be able to earn back my trust, if she keeps giving us tips like this one. We might need her out on the streets eventually.”
“You can’t be serious?” Wallace leaned forward, hands out at his side like he was trying to grasp something. “I mean, I want her to have changed more than any of you, but it’s only been a couple of months.”
“The need outweighs the risk,” Donnoly said. “But the purpose of this meeting,” he gestured to Jackson, “why don’t you tell us?”
Everyone shifted to look at Jackson, and he paused, trying to think of how to say this. Better out than in, and out as soon as possible. So he just spat it out, “We have to plan Valerie’s death.”
The entire room held their breaths, staring at him like he was a madman. Wallace’s hand started moving slowly for his gun.
And then Jackson realized his mistake.
“Oh, God,” he laughed, “no, I don’t mean we want to actually kill her. Sorry. I mean she wants to fake her death so she can go after the CEOs without them expecting her. We have to figure out how to make it plausible, realistic. Believable.”
“You fucking shit for brains,” Cammie said, laughing. “I was about to leap across this table and tear your larynx out.”
“Wow, yeah,” Donnoly said. “You might want to work on your delivery there. And you,” he addressed Cammie, “language here? We’re professionals.”
She just looked at him like she couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not. A sparkle in his eye made Jackson pretty sure he wasn’t.
“Again, my mistake.” He held up his hands in surrender, figuring he better ease the tension somehow. “Sorry.”
They all started laughing, except Cammie who said, “Wait, leaving? We’re going with her, right? I mean, this is the CEOs. She’ll need our help.”
He shook his head. “I tried that one, but no. She thinks we’re all too vital to this city. And let’s be clear here, this city needs us. My force needs me, and each of you has a responsibility.”
None of them could argue that, nor stand up to Donnoly’s look of authority.
Jackson had to admit, Donnoly sure seemed the leader at that moment—maybe Valerie was right, and by the time she left, at least, these folk could be enough for this city to stand on its own. With his help, of course… unfortunately.
“Well now that that’s decided,” Donnoly turned back to Jackson, “let’s plan Valerie’s death, shall we?”
They all smiled at that, and leaned forward to start tossing ideas around.
CHAPTER THREE
Black Plague HQ
Robin felt pain coursing through her skull, pounding, throbbing, and then darkness. It was excruciating, nothing like she had ever felt in her miserable sixteen years of life. She curled into a ball on the floor, then turned again with a spasm as the pain reached new heights.
And still she refused to give into it. Somewhere out there, her family was alive, she was sure of it. She couldn’t let these bastards win, these men who stood in a circle around her, watching to see what would happen, just watching as she faced the pain.
The tall one, the one they called Giuseppe, had told her that if she could just hold out through the pain, they would let her live. If she didn’t, if she gave into it, she would become a mindless slave.
And so she fought, pushing through, nails digging into the floorboards, carving grooves as she screamed out loud.
With one last throbbing pain that left her chest and upper arms twitching, the pain was gone. As it faded, she felt her senses returning, but stronger than ever. Her breathing was heavy as she breathed in the cedar, the aroma of fear-induced sweat from the man they had in the corner, tied and gagged, and, most of all, a scent she had never smelled before but recognized instantly—vampire.
She knew, because she was now one of them.
“Welcome to the Black Plague,” Giuseppe said, reaching a hand out to lift her up, staring at her with disbelief.
Her head spun, but it wasn’t like she was dizzy. It was like she was experiencing life and balance and true consciousness for the first time ever.
“What have you done to me?” she asked, observing as claws grew from her hands, then retracted.
“Only succeeded in what I have failed at so many times before,” Giuseppe said, wrapping an arm around her. She wanted to throw the arm away, or tear it off and beat him with it, but she still wasn’t sure how strong she was, and to be honest, these vampires scared the hell out of her. “You’re the seventh female we have tried to turn. The first female member of the Black Plague.”
She frowned at him, and then at the bound man. “He’s next?”
Giuseppe laughed. “He’s my supper, after training tomorrow. Well, his blood anyway. You all will get yours, in time.”
Her eyes narrowed and she felt a burning rage piling up inside, but for now she swallowed it down. There were too many of his kind here, or, her kind now as well, she supposed. She would fit in with them, figure out what she needed to make it out of here and find out whatever she could about the fate of her family, and then make a break for it.
The days that followed were like nothing she had ever experienced. Growing up in the Fallen Lands, in a small outpost said to have been set up by her father’s pastor soon after the days of the collapse and the World’s Worst Day Ever, or WWDE, as many referred to it, she had learned how to be a survivor. But here they weren’t training to survive, they were training to kill.
It started with a vampire coming around to pound on the doors of the small, one room units the various new vampires were put up in. They had to be outside and ready within two minutes of that knock, and would usually go for a nighttime run.
That first night had ended with them at the bottom of a cliff, where a circle of loose rocks formed perfect fighting pits. While they were still all waking up and settling down from the run, the older vampires gave them knives, taught them a few moves, and then said, “Attack.”
“Wait, what?” she said, holding the knife awkwardly and looking back at the vampire. But before he had a chance to answer, her opponent’s blade was in her stomach. Fuck, that hurt.
She staggered back, holding the wound. She stared at the young boy who had delivered the blow and was now leering at her like she was his bitch. When she collapsed to the ground and lay back like she was going to die, the closest elder pulled her up by the neck of her shirt, took out the knife, and tossed it to the boy.
“Don’t be a drama queen,” the elder said, and motioned for them to go at it again.
This time, holding her wound while her mind spun with ideas for how to get out of this, she at least had the smarts to see the attack coming and do something about it. She sidestepped, tripping the boy with her right leg, and then snatched the knife away with a quick twist of his wrist before he hit the ground.
She was more than happy to repay the blow, but hadn’t been ready for the scraping on bone she felt as the knife sunk in all the way up to the
hilt.
“Who’s a bitch now?” she said, and he looked up at her with confusion in his pain-ridden face.
“For the record, I never said that,” he replied, then stood. The elder walked past and saw them both bleeding, then shook his head. “Either you’re both really good, or really bad at this. Either way, go get rested up, we have target practice next, followed by more hand-to-hand fighting, and I want you two as healed as you can be before that.”
When he’d walked off, Robin looked at the boy with a raised eyebrow. “They want us to fight, like this?”
“Feels like you’re gonna die, right?” he said, then stuck out a hand. “I’m Brad.”
She shook it and forced a smile. The thought of continuing like this made her sick, but when she thought of her family and rescuing them, there wasn’t any price too high. So she nodded to the boy, and then they found the area to rest and heal, waiting for the next stage of their training.
A dark object moved in the distance, and when she craned her neck she could see what looked like a black object, large enough to fit several men inside, floating and moving across her line of sight. Moonlight glinted off sleek metal.
“One of the Three Amigos,” Brad said.
“What?”
“The ones in charge,” the boy said. “I heard some of the elders talking about it yesterday. Apparently, he’s making a visit. Making some big plans about some other vampire they’re having troubles with. From France or something.”
Infighting amongst the vampires? Now that was news.
At that moment, she realized she had forgotten all about the pain. She glanced down and saw that, indeed, the wound had already started to heal. Learning to fight, shoot, and more… and healing when she got stabbed, which they apparently didn’t discourage from happening. Life was certainly changing.
A movement caught her eye and suddenly one of the elder vampires sent another one flying back. Instantly he was on him, teeth bared and eyes glowing. He brought down blow after blow on the vampire beneath him, until there wasn’t much to be recognized as a face.
