by Justin Sloan
Jackson was pretty sure that look in her eyes had meant she had no idea, which meant Peterson and Ella hadn’t gone straight to them. But if not Morgan and her crew, the only underground remaining, then where?
“So how will this work?” Morgan asked. “Your people have been notified? The Weres and vampires will leave?”
“Don’t worry, they know exactly what they’re supposed to do,” Jackson said. He glanced over to a dark movement in the corner and then behind him. “I’ll just give them the final order, and when it’s over they won’t concern you ever again.”
He ignored her annoying smile as he turned and walked for the door. With each step, he waited for her betrayal, but it didn’t come. Considering what he had planned, he almost wished she had tried to shoot him in the back.
At the doorway, he nodded to Cammie, who waited just outside. She winked in an almost flirtatious way, tipped the cowboy hat she had put on for this special occasion, and moved in.
“What the fu—” a voice called from inside, but he was walking away, leaving the Weres to their revenge.
He paused, listening to gunshots, yelps, snarls, and thudding of bodies against walls.
She had been right, he thought. The old Jackson was back.
Before he had met Valerie, he had been much stricter on revenge and seeing that peace won out, no matter what the cost. As she had said, “Ruthless. Unafraid to take a life when it was for the greater good.”
But it was the opposite of what she thought. She was the darkness that needed to be cast from this world so that the greater good could shine.
And Cammie and her Weres had met the hot side of Morgan’s explosives one too many times to allow any sort of truce. The trust simply wasn’t there, and never would be.
Would Valerie have approved? He didn’t think so. But what was done was done.
***
Royland stood at the edge of the waterway, alone, staring out over the red and yellow reflections of flames that had risen up over the warehouse. It was done, as Cammie had told him it would be.
He hated the thought of revenge, when the other side had set aside their weapons. Or, maybe hadn’t exactly set them aside, but was holding out a hand for peace.
It reminded him too much of his days as a Forsaken. It was too close to the moral boundary for him, and so he needed time to think.
The fire brigade would arrive soon, but there was nothing they would be able to do at this point.
With a pain in the back of his skull, he turned and walked away from the water and into the city. At first, he thought he would go to Sandra’s café. He loved it there, after all. But he didn’t want to be seen by anyone who knew him, as that meant talking.
Instead he took a turn north, wandering to see where he would end up. Soon he found himself at the edge of the old hotels, the ones where many of the homeless or drugged out found themselves staying.
He thought he remembered Valerie mentioning a crazy fight that had broken out here with them involved, before they had rescued him from having his blood drained. Those were insane times. He was glad to be moving on, but scared that Valerie’s absence would pull this city back into the muck she’d found it in.
“Is it so bad?” a voice asked. He started before turning to see Cammie. She stood in the shadows of a nearby building, biting her lip as she looked out at him.
“You following me?”
She nodded. “You were right.”
He just frowned, refusing to give her the satisfaction of him asking what about.
With a sideway glance, she added, “About all that back there. Does it feel good to know those ass-faces are dead, so they can’t backstab anyone again or catch us in random explosions? Most definitely. But the whole revenge angle? Not so much.”
“We’re different, Cammie.”
“Maybe… maybe not.”
He frowned and turned back to the hotels, watching as two men started arguing in the distance. One punched the other, knocking him to the ground before turning to storm off into the hotel.
“This is how the city lives,” Royland said. “We have to work together to see them through these dark times.”
“Royland.” She stepped forward, reaching for his arm, but he pulled away. After a moment of staring at him, she clucked her tongue. “That’s how it is then?”
“Like I said, we’re different.”
“Maybe not so different.”
He took the bait this time, and asked, “How do you figure?”
“Yeah, I let my Weres do their business, I even had Morgan in my grasp for a second… but couldn’t do it. You’re right, I mean, killing since Valerie changed up the town, it’s become a necessity from time to time, but this, it just felt wrong.”
“So she’s alive?”
“God, no. I let her go and she tried to pull that shotgun on me, so Ricky tore her to shreds. I’m not saying I didn’t feel the thrill of it all, but what I can say is that I’m with you now.”
He scoffed. “Does it matter? What enemies do we have left?”
“Every criminal still on the streets is our enemy,” she said. “Until they abandon their old ways, and then become one of us, that is. And then, of course, there’s the pirates.”
“Those bastards, I might not have a problem tearing them to shreds.”
She laughed. “Keep talking dirty, I like it.”
“If that turns you on, well… first, that’s a little disturbing. Second, I wonder how turned on you’ll get when you actually see what I do to them.”
“No mercy there? For real?”
He shook his head. “Well, mercy if they ask for it. Pirates don’t strike me as the type to do so.”
They both turned to the sky, east across the ocean where they could see one of the ships moving out of port and circling to head west.
“Ella, oh my God,” Cammie said. She grabbed Royland’s arm and this time he didn’t pull away. “They might be escaping via the blimps.”
“Back up a step. Ella wasn’t with Morgan and the resistance?”
She shook her head. “I think her and Peterson have something else planned, and now that we’re talking about it, that only makes sense. If she wanted to fight, she would have stayed and joined Morgan again. Fleeing on foot would be troublesome, but if they escaped via blimp, that would be a whole other story.
“But she was helping with the raids,” Royland said. “I don’t understand—”
“Sure, to keep the fighting going. To keep us all distracted.”
Royland nodded, catching on. “And now she’s become a mercenary for all we know, her and her brother selling their swords to the highest bidder?”
“That part doesn’t sound like her, but… come on, if she did go to the docks, we might still be able to catch her.”
They started to run, but Royland pulled her back by the hand. She glanced down at their hands touching raised an eyebrow and tilted her hat.
“Is now really the time for that?” she said with a chuckle.
He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s just, what then? If we catch her?”
Cammie frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t know. But I promise, no harm, not unless we find out she means to harm the city.”
“Deal,” he said, shaking her hand and then dropping it.
She glanced back at her empty hand, then put on a fake pout. “Talk about your major let downs.”
“Just try to keep up,” he said, and took off in a run toward the docks.
“You’re the one who seems to have trouble keeping up,” Cammie said, running alongside him. “All these hints that I’m into you, heck, even changing my ways for you, kinda, and you’re too dense to follow.”
“Changing because of me,” he said, “not for me. And I’m following, it’s just that I’m waiting for a moment to make the first move, see. And since you’re always trying, it hasn’t given me an opening.”
She laughed. “Tell you what, after this is done I’ll just lay back and keep my mouth shut, and see if y
ou can find an opening.”
He did a double take, but even she was blushing. “You didn’t mean it that way, did you?”
“No, but… it’s pretty funny.”
They both cracked up laughing as they ran. Royland couldn’t believe that she was able to make him feel this way in the midst of everything else going on, but damn, it felt good.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Black Plague HQ
Robin had hoped they would be done with the testing and training that night when Brad had forced her to feed, but she soon learned they would never truly be finished.
She was at a higher level now, training right alongside Giuseppe and others she had seen around. It turned out he was the leader of her group of recruits, but there were at least a dozen like him. Each had been charged with forming a group of warrior vampires, training them for assaults on cities or assassinations, so they would be ready to address whatever needs arose.
He had been relatively successful with his group of vampire recruits. Most others only had half his numbers, while one had only been able to make Nosferatu. This one had been taken out of the main group, and ordered to work on manipulating the Nosferatu to the point that they would be ready for battle.
They worked hard, but even worse, they partied hard.
Nights were filled with drinking—not that it had much of an effect on vampires, but that’s why they enjoyed the good stuff. A local stash of old, basement made moonshine was their choice of drink. A vampire would chug it, act like an idiot for a few minutes, and then sober up as their healing process worked the alcohol out of their systems.
No hangovers either, Robin supposed.
This night she found herself at the outskirts of the most recent outpost that they had destroyed, watching as flames licked the sky and vampires danced through the red, glowing streets. The night air was filled with the scent of smoke and blood, and the crackling of burning houses was almost peaceful in a horrifying way.
“Here you are,” Brad said, stumbling over, a bottle of the light green drink in his hand. “What, not in the mood?”
“Never.”
He looked at her, frowning with an unfocused stare, then sobered up. He took another swig.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Go on, enjoy your party.”
A man shrieked nearby, followed by a vampire’s laughter. It sent a shudder through Robin.
“We’ve done it, haven’t we?” he asked.
“Done what?”
“Survived.”
She frowned, looking from him to the flames and revelry. A vampire held a man on his lap, two puncture marks on the man’s throat.
“You call this survival?” She shook her head. “It’s disgusting.”
He stared at her, eyes narrowed and lips moving as if he were thinking up a response and trying to say it, but the words weren’t coming.
Finally, he stepped forward, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her in for a kiss. The smell of liquor was strong on his breath.
“Agh!” She exclaimed, stepping back and pushing him away. “What the hell?”
He frowned, and then did it again. This time, she sidestepped and left a leg in his path, so that he went toppling over. Moonshine splattered the dirt as the bottle shattered, and when Brad stood, his right hand had lines of blood on it.
“The fuck is your problem?” He asked, holding his hand.
“Just… just… I’m not ready.”
He looked like he was about to attack her, but then the fury in his eyes, along with the red glow, faded.
Everything seemed to deflate from him as he sunk to the ground beside her and started picking glass from his hand. He winced with each piece but kept on without a complaint.
She turned to watch several vampires that had created a fighting pit, taking drunken challengers on. The first two were soon thrown out, a new champion in their place, and more vampires stepped in to challenge. It was like roosters showing off for the hens, these semi-drunk vampires and their games.
Yet, she couldn’t look away. It was like an old dance, a ritual among lovers and fighters, with the glow of flames shining on their sweaty bodies—many shirtless now—and she almost lost sight of the violence, instead seeing the flow of energy and the thrill of battle.
After watching at her side for a while, Brad asked, “You really think they’re out there still?”
“What?”
“Your parents, I mean.”
She wasn’t sure how much he knew—she hadn’t told him anything. Had he heard it from others? Her mother had talked in her sleep too… maybe now Robin was doing the same?”
“If they aren’t…”
“Then what’s the point?” He nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Your parents are out there too?” She lowered herself to his side, glad to see he had stopped picking at the glass.
His left lip turned up in a smile.
“Me? Not at all.” At a concerned look from her, he added, “Oh, nothing to pity me for. Sure, I lost them early on, but I swore to myself I would survive. The point of life and all that? I couldn’t give a shit. For me, it’s just survival.”
“And yet, you were caught up in all this.”
He laughed. “And yet? You didn’t know, Robin? I came looking for them.”
“You volunteered to become a vampire?”
He nodded.
The thought of him wandering the world in search of groups of vampires to join made her even more confused about how to think of him. Many didn’t believe in vampires, but here was this guy who devoted his life to finding out if they were real, and then becoming one of them.
A look in his eyes told her he was going for a kiss again, so she acted preemptively.
She stood and pushed him back, then hissed, “Why the hell would you want to be one of… us?”
“I knew there was one way to survive—become one of the elites, the best of the best. None of those rat-fucking pricks out there can touch me now, no motherfucker will put his hands on me. If I had been a vampire when they found us…”
“Oh, God.” She put a hand to her mouth, horrified at where her mind was going with the interpretation of what he had just conveyed. “I’m so sorry.”
“My mom was already dead, and they were coming for me next. My dad… he fought to get to me, told them that he would do anything, anything. You should have seen the look in his eyes when they came at me with a knife.”
Robin gasped, both hands to her mouth now. A tear at the edge of her eye.
Brad sighed. “I’ll never forget that look… Nor the relief when he saw that they had cut the ropes instead of my neck.”
He sat there for a moment, staring off at the flames.
“Did… he make it?” she asked, hesitantly.
With a trembling lip, he shook his head. “They told me to fight for his life, that if I could take their guy, my dad would live. If I lost, it’d be his life and I could go. But I swear to God, all the fucking gods ever throughout any religion, I gave it everything.” He clenched his teeth, breathing quickly through his nose. “It wasn’t enough.”
“I—I didn’t know.” She put an arm around him, and he leaned into her.
“It wasn’t enough,” he repeated, and then stood and, without looking back, walked over to the fighting pit. He leaped in, yelling for the next challenger, and two vampires turned on him.
They didn’t stand a chance and had to be dragged out of there.
Again he shouted for more, but Giuseppe motioned to a couple of the experienced vampires, and together they were able to pull him out.
“That’s enough for tonight,” Giuseppe said when everyone had quieted and only Brad’s shouts of “I can take you all!” could be heard. “Pack up, grab supplies. We’re heading back before sunrise.”
They went about it and soon were moving out. Brad stepped out from the crowd and gave her a shrug.
“Does ‘sorry’ work in this kind of situation?” he asked.
�
��Sorry for what?”
“Losing it. Being a bit of a tool. Anything else you can think of.”
She took his arm, wrapping hers in it, and walked at his side. “You opened up to me, I appreciate that. Just… maybe try and keep your cool next time.”
He laughed. “You can count on it.”
“This world is a bit fucked, right?”
“A bit is a bit of an understatement, so let’s say a bit here means totally and irreconcilably.”
“You think we’re so screwed?” She frowned, thinking back to what she had heard about the early days after the fall of civilization. They had come so far, but there was still so far left to go.
He nodded. “Human nature is evil in itself. Add to that vampires and Weres and what happens? Do regular humans join together to stop evil? No, they cower in fear and get wiped out—”
“Brad?”
“Yeah?” He looked at her, eyes wild, and then laughed. “Sorry, doing it again?”
“You were getting a bit carried away.”
He laughed. “Irreconcilably carried away. That sounds about right.”
BAM!
A shot came from ahead, and then three more. The vampires scattered into the trees, leaving their packs where they were. Soon more sounds of gunshots rang out, and then the screams of men being taken down by vampires.
Brad unslung his AK-47 and Robin drew her pistol. Her eyes searched the tree line, registering quick movements and men in military cammo.
“Local wannabe badasses,” Brad said.
He was about to run off to help in what was bound to be a slaughter, when Robin clutched tighter to his arm.
Instead of protesting, he looked into her eyes, considered his options, and then nodded.
Even when the two saw a man running off on his own, Brad stayed at her side, though she could tell he was itching to run after the attacker and finish it.
“Let him go,” Giuseppe said, stumbling into the bit of clearing where they were. He apparently thought they were debating whether to pursue or not. “I want them to know we’re coming, so their pants are all soiled by pissing themselves by the time we arrive.”
Robin simply shivered, once again reminded why she would have to find a way to leave these creatures behind. Where Brad fit into that picture, she had no idea.
