by Justin Sloan
And now they had his armor too.
It was as if she could feel Michael and Bethany Anne there with them, smiling, maybe giving them a nod of approval.
With a smile, Valerie said, “Okay, we can come back later. But let’s not make them wait any more for us.”
Cammie had her hand gently touching a wall, as if she didn’t believe it was there, but then snapped out of it and nodded. “Agreed.”
They walked back in silence, both in awe of what they’d discovered. Before leaving, the two paused to close the door and reset the traps, so this place could be properly preserved until Michael’s return. Their little secret.
***
Sandra wanted everything to be perfect for the surprise party. She had arranged her best wine, one that dated back to the first post-collapse, from the vineyards of France, or at least so the captain who had sold it to her claimed.
Cheese was spread out with freshly baked bread, along with special meats she had imported as well. It wasn’t as much as she would have liked, given the interruptions to the imports from overseas. If Cammie and Royland really could come up with a way of dealing with them before she came back, she would be ecstatic.
If not, she was going to seriously consider bringing the wine making here. Cheese would be tough, as everything they got now was from farms in Portugal and Spain, if the captains were to be believed. Sometimes she thought they were just saying it to make the goods sound more exotic.
Either way, she hadn’t noticed any farms near Old Manhattan, that was for sure. Grapes could grow in limited supply, but that wouldn’t do to meet the demand she was already faced with.
Even in this torn up world, New Yorkers loved whatever bits of decadence they could get.
“Need help with anything?” Diego asked, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, then purring seductively in her ear.
“Yeah, I need help controlling my boyfriend,” she replied. “He seems distracted.”
He pulled back and leaned against a wooden chopping block. “Everyone’s ready. She late?”
Sandra frowned, too worried about getting everything perfect to even think about what time it was.
“Now that you mention it.”
“Wait…” His ears perked and he smiled. “Come on.”
“Wait, the trays!” she said as she went back for the cheese and nodded for him to grab some wine.
They carried them out through the curtains, and then joined the other cops, Weres, and vampires. Curtains covered the windows and glass door, with a sign that said closed on the outside.
Cammie was supposed to bring Valerie back here to show Sandra her new outfits, and that was when the surprise would come.
“I think you should show her the green top first,” Cammie’s voice said, muffled from the back room along with the sound of two people entering.
“Sandra’s never really liked me in green…”
“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted as the two walked in under the curtain.
“And I love you in green,” Sandra said, to a room full of laughter. “It’s blue I never liked. Too depressing.”
“But I almost always wear blue!” Valerie protested, hands on her hips as she looked around the room, taking everyone in. “This is too much, guys!”
Sandra beamed, but then noticed the slightly guilty look on Cammie’s face. Using the excuse of handing out cheese while Valerie took turns saying ‘hi’ to everyone, Sandra whispered to Cammie, “You let it slip.”
Cammie pursed her lips. “Maybe a little.”
“One thing I ask—”
“Hey, I’m a werewolf, not a damned safe deposit box. You want secrets, don’t come to me.”
“Strange,” Sandra said, eyes narrowed, “how yesterday I distinctly remember you saying something along the lines of Weres being the best secret holders.”
“We’re also great at adapting to our surroundings, and right now, my surroundings include people looking to drink and be merry. So…” She gave Sandra a shrug and quickly side-stepped out, then maneuvered to the other side of the room.
Oh well, no use being upset when it was already done. Valerie did seem pleased, regardless of how surprised she was.
Sandra scrunched her nose at a lingering scent that seemed to have come from Cammie, but then it was gone. Like stale water, or rotten eggs.
All of the guests were trying to get their time with Valerie, though they hadn’t all been told the specifics. Just that the three would be going on a trip. Those that were in the know, like Wallace, knew to keep their mouths shut, while others had stayed at Enforcer HQ to keep up the defenses, or patrol the streets. Security had been doubled around the square and within a one-mile radius of the café.
That didn’t stop Sandra from glancing around with worry. Passersby were bound to hear all the chatter, and maybe catch a glimpse of light past the curtains. Private parties were incredibly rare around here, so she told herself the extra attention was nothing to worry about.
“This is some get together you’ve put on here,” Royland said, and she turned to see him sipping on a glass of red—the merlot, she guessed, knowing his tastes. “If we got hit right now, this city would be doomed.”
“You have people on the lookout?”
He nodded.
“Then I’m not too worried.”
They both turned to watch Valerie working the crowd, laughing and slapping shoulders.
“It’s fake, you know,” Sandra said. At a glance from him she added, “All of that, it’s not her. She has always been better off by herself, or with one or two good friends. I think it’s why she tried going into the shadows, before. She learned that it’s good to have others nearby who you can rely on, but I think she’d be happiest out there kicking bad guys in their throats.”
Royland chuckled and massaged his throat. “I’m certainly glad I’m on the right side then.”
“That’s right, you weren’t always, huh?”
“Not exactly, no. Depending on how you define good and bad. Was I striving for a higher place? No. In fact, I cared only for survival. Survival of my people, and to achieve that I allowed the unthinkable to happen.”
He looked troubled, a darkness taking over his eyes, so she put a hand on his arm and said, “Your past isn’t important here. We’ve all done bad things to save those we love.”
“Maybe.”
She stared at him a moment longer, wondering if he was going to tell her what was bothering him, but then Cammie came by, wearing her cowboy boots and a broad smile, and swept him away.
The man had some secrets, maybe a dark side to him still, Sandra thought.
An opening finally came and Sandra squeezed in. She didn’t want to occupy Valerie’s time, but just give her a hug and say, “Happy going away!”
Valerie laughed. “You’re coming with me.”
“I know… but I wanted to make sure you understood how much everyone here loves you. For some reason, I get the feeling you don’t see this place as home quite like I do.”
“Could it be because, until recently, they hunted vampires for their blood?” Valerie whispered. “Or maybe the fact that half the city still seems to want me dead… that might be it.”
“But… friends.” Even as Sandra said it, she understood Valerie’s point. It was hard to feel you belong even when a few people really want you there. It had been that way for her among the vampires under The Duke, when most vampires saw her as food or fuel for the next mission, and only Valerie truly treated her as a friend, albeit like a slave at times.
Valerie saw the look in her eyes, and Sandra knew the woman was doing that mind-reading thing, or whatever it was she sometimes did. It kinda creeped her out, but she smiled, trying to convey joy and excitement.
With a laugh, Valerie said, “Even without my weird creepy powers, I know you better than that.”
Sandra blushed and gave her a friendly push. “Go play with your friends, I’ve got to open another bottle the way Royland
’s drinking.”
Before Sandra could go, Valerie grabbed her arm. “Thank you, I mean it.”
She nodded, and this time the smile was genuine.
As Sandra retreated to the kitchen, she gave Diego a wink and noticed the heavy way his eyes moved over her. Great, he was already a bit tipsy. Normally she wouldn’t mind, especially since he got a bit handsy when he had something to drink, and she liked the extra attention. But she had hoped he would help her clean this place up tonight.
Oh well, there was always tomorrow… or maybe she could pay someone else to do it.
At the curtains, Presley stumbled into her path, then paused and looked up at her with wide, captivating eyes.
“What’s she see in you?”
“Excuse me?” Sandra asked.
“This vampire lady, what’s she always keeping you around for?”
Sandra frowned. Was this Were for real?
“Can’t you see,” Esmerelda said, stepping up behind Sandra. She lifted Sandra’s wrist, where scar marks from teeth still remained, though faint. “This one’s just food.” She leaned in and sniffed, then added, “I sure would like a taste.”
“Since I’m not sure if you’re hitting on me or threatening me,” Sandra said as she pulled away, “let’s just call it neither and say I got something to do.”
Esmerelda shrugged and put her arm around Presley, so that the two watched Sandra as she ducked into the back room.
Maybe she wouldn’t miss this city as much as she had been starting to think. No, this was her new home. The city where she and Diego had come together, and it would always hold that for her. As soon as this mission was over, she’d be right back with him.
She found one of the less special bottles, figuring the taste wasn’t as important the more bottles they all drank, and was winding the cork when the first gun shots sounded.
Pausing, counting her heart beats, she listened, taking a moment to process the fact that they weren’t nearby.
Two sniper shots sounded in response, and then more shooting and a distant shout.
She ran back into the main room and everyone was murmuring, a couple moving for the door.
“The back!” Valerie hissed, stepping up to redirect them past Sandra.
Sandra spun, looking for Diego, but saw him slipping out through the crowd. That drunken idiot.
“Val!” she called, and nodded for the door. “Watch out for him?”
Valerie smiled and winked, then reached for her hip—only, her sword wasn’t there. She must have left it behind when she went shopping, Sandra realized.
“I put it in the cupboard!”
Valerie said, “Thanks!” And ran off to join the rest. Most of the guests lingered, including Lorain and Jackson, the latter of whom was more focused on the cheese. He saw her looking and shrugged.
“Another night in the good ol’ NYC,” he said, and raised his cup.
“I’m not cheering that,” she replied, and then started cleaning up the place.
Capital Square Side Streets
Diego was about sick of this shit. He had been sitting there, enjoying the nice evening his girl had put together, and then some asshole comes along and interrupts it with a gunfight?
No way.
He charged out, making a semi-drunk decision to remember not to transform out in public and scare off half the citizens.
Suddenly two wolves tore past him, and he frowned, turning back to see Cammie running up behind him.
“They’re with me,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Which way?”
As if in answer, another gun shot rang out, not far to their left. They all diverted that way, and came out just as Peterson turned toward them, rifle aimed directly at them. They froze, and for a long moment, they all stared.
Finally, Wallace stepped forward and Peterson showed recognition, lowering the rifle.
“What happened?” Wallace asked, gesturing to the bodies farther down the alley.
“More of them,” Peterson said. “Morgan’s people tried to make a move. Good thing we were here.”
Cammie and the two wolves went charging on ahead, not replying when he called after them that he thought that was the last of it.
“Better to make sure,” Diego said. He blinked, hard, realizing just how tipsy he was.
“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Wallace asked his old partner. “Donnoly really has you on patrol tonight?”
“Security for your little get together, actually.”
Diego stumbled and steadied himself against the nearby brick wall, then saw Valerie perched on the two-story building nearby, glancing around, then staring down at him.
This couldn’t be it, could it? Was this the moment? A crowd was gathering along the square, and she was walking toward them at the edge of the roof.
On the street below, Jackson came out of a nearby alley, a gang of men and women following, many armed.
Holy shit, this was it, and he had been stupid enough to think it wouldn’t happen until he was ready.
“Where’s that murderous bitch at?” Jackson called out, loud enough for everyone in the square to hear.
This was either it, or Jackson had just switched sides. Dammit, Diego wished he had stopped at the first glass of wine. His head was spinning and he wasn’t thinking straight. He being a Were, it would clear up fast, but in the meantime he chided himself for over indulging.
Suddenly, everyone was pointing to a lit-up spot near the center of the square but off to the side, where the crowd couldn’t quite reach her.
“We knew you were still around,” Jackson said, stepping into the square. The crowds that remained after the gunfire from moments before stepped aside, making room, already scared, though not scared enough to miss whatever this was.
Diego stepped forward too, cautious, eyes darting between Valerie, Jackson, and the café where he hoped Sandra had stayed out of sight.
“What is this?” Valerie called down to Jackson. “I own this city now. It was I who took down the faction leaders, I who killed Commander Strake!”
“And it is I who will unite this city once and for all,” Jackson said, and he ran for her, guns drawn, shooting.
The crowd screamed, backing up farther now, but there were a couple who Diego noticed didn’t bother to move but just watched. One, a woman with red hair—Morgan.
Diego considered running forward and breaking it up, but there was something about the way those two were shouting at each other that, even in his inebriated state, sounded way too corny.
Holy crap, he thought for the millionth time. This was it.
And then they were wrapped in combat, arms flailing, shots fired, and then, right before everyone’s eyes, Valerie fell.
Only, the shot wasn’t from Jackson, nor any of his companions, which seemed contrary to the point in Diego’s opinion.
He frowned, joining the rest in looking for the shooter, and then he saw the dark form on a nearby roof, taking aim again. He was going for Jackson this time.
Diego was on it, charging as he shouted, “Get down!” and then snatched a rifle from one of Jackson’s people and was shooting at the figure.
A curse sounded and then another one appeared, sword slashing at Diego. More screams and more gunshots, as the crowd pushed back farther.
Get out of here! Diego thought as he defended strike after strike. This guy was fast—dressed in black from head to toe, pistols on his hips and coming at him with two long blades.
There was no way around it. If Diego hoped to stand a chance, he had to transform, right here, in front of everyone.
It was keep the secret, or his life. He chose his life.
Gasps filled the square as he transformed, and a moment later, no longer held back by inhibitions of keeping the UnknownWorld secret, since Diego had ruined it, more people were transforming. Two werewolves came to his aid, and a couple of vampires were shimmying their way up the side of the building to get to the shooter, who aimed in at Valerie again
and then cursed as a shot hit him in the shoulder.
Sandra had emerged from her café, sniper rifle in hand, and joined the battle.
Diego had no idea what the hell was going on, until he tackled the man all in black and, two werewolves holding him down, tore out his throat. There it was—the taste of blood that didn’t quite fit, a taste he tried to avoid when possible. Vampire blood.
He transformed back and shouted to Jackson’s men, “They’re vampires, two of them.”
“Three!” Wallace shouted, apparently having rejoined them in the square. He pointed to the far side, by Valerie, where another vampire all in black had appeared at her side with a long blade drawn.
Well this night, and all their planning, was just going to hell. The plan had been to fake her death so everyone saw, not actually kill her. If that happened, the CEOs would have won. They’d march back into the city and take it over, appointing a head of enforcement no better than Commander Strake had been.
If Diego had anything to do with it, that wasn’t going to happen. He felt himself suddenly quite sobered up as he transformed again and ran to Valerie’s aid.
***
Everything was falling apart, and it didn’t help that Valerie’s left shoulder was burning like it was on fire. It had to have been a silver bullet—that was the only way she could figure it.
First with the shots that had made them think the plan was screwed up, and now this. She owed Sandra and the others a major apology for not letting them know when this was going down, but had felt at the time that natural reactions would be best.
Now she realized that they were probably feeling the same sense of panic she was, but worse.
At least she had kind of planned on dying that night—though a fake death would have been preferable to real.
The attacker’s sword flashed and she threw herself backwards, just out of reach, and fell off of the waist-high ledge. Jackson opened up on the man, shooting with everything he had, but they had set up the rifles with regular bullets. Enough to draw blood and make the death appear real, but nothing in terms of doing real harm to a vampire if aimed correctly.
