The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  The hallway outside the Karolyi apartment was quiet; quiet soon broken by the chime of the elevator arriving.

  The doors slid open and John Prutzmann exited the elevator. Clad in a well-made suit and long coat, his hair smooth and slicked down, dark glasses perched on his nose, he was the epitome of European style and sophistication as he strolled along the hallway toward the apartment. He paused in front of the door, his fist hovering, preparing to knock.

  Then he stopped, leaned forward and sniffed at the door. He sighed with exasperation, took out his mobile phone and quickly dialed a number with his leather-gloved hand. “They are not here.” He hung up the phone and turned, sniffed the air once more. Prutzmann smiled and headed for the emergency stairwell.

  20

  VINCENT PEEKED AROUND the corner of the dingy green subway sign. Yes, they were still there. Two men, both watching the building that housed the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. Their focus was unwavering. Good little doggies... You’ve been well trained.

  Vincent shifted his stance quietly. He was lucky to have found a place of concealment that was downwind, so these two didn’t know he was there. Or, at least, he was pretty sure they didn’t know. He noted their clothing, dressy with a definite Euro accent, long coats, dark suits, slick hair. If he didn’t already know John was here, the dress code would have tipped him off.

  He glanced at his mobile phone. Nearly midnight. The green message light began to blink as the envelope-shaped icon popped up on the screen. He slid his finger across the screen and opened the message.

  Vincent, Meet me @ St. Paul’s Chapel, off Vesey, ASAP! Sam

  Vincent sighed as he turned off the phone. He glanced up in the direction of the two werewolves – and froze.

  They were gone.

  Vincent opened his coat, checked his weapon. Loaded and ready. He felt in his pockets for extra ammunition. Plenty. He stepped out from behind the sign and headed for the site where the werewolves had been. He moved quickly and very quietly, one of the great advantages of being... well... A werewolf. Just say it, asshole! All this time later, ten years, and it was still a mouthful, one that caused Vincent’s throat to close at the mere thought of uttering it. He was a werewolf.

  Vincent slowed as he neared the spot where they had been, staying close to the building as he inched towards the corner... And looked around. Nothing. The doors to the City Mortuary were closed, as was the bay where vehicles pulled in to unload boxes and bodies alike. The parking lot was nearly empty of employee vehicles. All was quiet.

  Suddenly, the door opened. Vincent ducked back behind the wall, his hand immediately going to his weapon, but he did not draw, not yet. Cautiously, he sniffed the air, then relaxed, his hand moving away from his gun. He looked around the corner.

  Ben stood in front of the doors, the metal trim on his leather coat and gloves glinting in the moonlight. He pulled his ear-buds from his pockets, carefully inserting them into his ears, and turned on his mp3 player. The music wasn’t turned up that loud, but Vincent could still hear the tell-tale intro to a song by The Cure. He chuckled to himself... Emo guys... SO predictable. He watched as Ben began to walk away from the building.

  They both heard the sound at the same time. A howl. A baying, screeching, wailing howl. An unearthly sound somewhere between the call of a wolf and that of a cougar, with something else thrown into the mix, something inexplicable and unnatural.

  Vincent looked at Ben. He was taking the ear-bud out of his right ear and reaching into his pocket. Ben pulled out a mobile phone just as the howl rang out again. Literally rang out, Vincent realized. Who the hell would have a ringtone like that? Ben spoke quietly and quickly hung up. He replaced the earbud in his ear and walked on.

  Moments later, the howl rang out again. Ben pulled the ear-bud out as he answered the phone. Vincent watched him look at the phone, put it to his ear, then lowered it again. The howl rang out again... And again.

  Vincent spotted the werewolf at almost the same moment Ben did. Ben yelped and started running toward the City Mortuary doors. He pressed the button beside the door over-and-over, but the intercom never kicked on and the door did not open. Vincent pulled out his gun and began running on a path to intercept the werewolf before it reached Ben.

  Ben turned around; his back plastered up against the door as the werewolf came toward him at a steady pace. The musculature of the creature, its size and shape... Ben would have really relished seeing such an impressive specimen of cryptozoology if it hadn’t been baring down on him with lips smacking and teeth clashing and howls and those flat black eyes. God, they were like shark eyes, the vacuum of space encapsulated in two eyeballs!

  Ben saw a flash out of the corner of his eye and that guy, Sam’s friend... Vincent... Came running in, a massive handgun in his hand, and quickly put himself between Ben and the approaching werewolf. The werewolf’s attention turned to Vincent and it snarled, but then it froze. Ben dared to pull his gaze from the creature and look at Vincent.

  Vincent had raised his gun and aimed it at the werewolf’s head. He held the gun horizontally, the grip and barrel parallel to the ground below. It was a strong hold, one reflecting an experienced handler. Ben looked back to the werewolf and for a moment, the flicker of something resembling fear seemed to pass over that rage-filled animal face, to flash through those dead black eyes. The werewolf was afraid of Vincent, not the fear of an animal for a human, but a conscious fear from an intelligent creature. It knew Vincent, and it knew enough to be afraid of him... Who was this guy?

  Vincent’s weapon may have been trained on the werewolf in front of them, but his attention was focused on trying to pick up the scent of the second werewolf. Come out, come out, wherever you are. It was here somewhere. He could feel it watching, waiting. He looked at the werewolf in front of him, saw the look of fear in its eyes. It knew who he was, what he was, and it had every right to be afraid.

  When a soldier realizes that he has been sent to die, that there is no way home from a mission, the response is usually the same: attack. Judging by the twitches that were starting in the werewolf’s muscles, that response would be imminent. Vincent smiled then fired the gun twice. The mercury-filled bullets entered the werewolf’s forehead and eye and the creature collapsed to the ground and began to melt almost immediately.

  “Tell John I got his message,” Vincent yelled, his voice echoing off the buildings as it pierced the night. There was a long silence.

  Ben nervously looked around, his eyes gravitating towards the dark places around the parking lot, near buildings and in the street itself. There was no sign of the other werewolf, no movement.

  Then the howl rang out again. Vincent glanced over at Ben. “Is that your fucking phone?”

  Ben carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. “No.”

  Vincent hesitated a moment, then holstered his gun. “I think under the circumstances you may want to rethink your choice of ringtone.”

  Ben nodded. “Understood.” He shivered slightly. “Are we... going after the other one?”

  Vincent smirked. “No. I want him to go back to his masters.”

  “So, they know you’re coming?”

  Vincent smiled this time. “Something like that.” He watched Ben’s face as he struggled to process, well, everything. Funny thing about people who embraced all things dark and dangerous... Most of the time they had no idea what was out there, just how dark and dangerous the world really is. Vincent never failed to be cheered by the shocked reactions he saw... Perhaps there was still hope for humanity, after all. “Ben, right?”

  Ben nodded slowly; his eyes still fixed on the spot where the werewolf had been only moments before.

  “You’d better come with me.”

  “Couldn’t I just go home?”

  Vincent shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. “No. That werewolf has your scent now. You’ll be safer with me. With us. I’m going to meet Sam downtown.”

  At the mention of Sam�
�s name, Ben relaxed and eagerly nodded. He swallowed hard and cautiously stepped away from the door, matching Vincent’s brisk pace as they headed for the subway entrance.

  Vincent started down the stairs, but Ben hesitated at the top. “Um, should we take a cab or something?”

  Vincent stopped halfway down the staircase, turned back to face Ben. “Um, why?”

  “Well... Don’t werewolves like to skulk around in subways and such?”

  Vincent heaved an annoyed sigh. “Werewolves can skulk anywhere... Just like people do.” He watched the expression on Ben’s face – He wasn’t buying it. “You have money for a taxi, then?”

  “No.”

  Vincent made a grand sweeping gesture down towards the subway below. “Then I suggest we hurry so we don’t have to stand on the platform long. It’s perfectly safe. Trust me.”

  The kid was still hesitating, the conflict inside visible in the frown creasing his forehead, the nervous fiddling with his metal-clad gloves.

  Vincent sighed and climbed the stairs again. He stood beside Ben, took out a cigarette and lit it. “You don’t trust me, then?”

  “No.”

  Vincent nodded. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t trust me either.” He took a long drag, exhaled. “Can’t think of a thing I could say, or do right now that would change your mind, other than this. Ivan Karolyi, God rest his immortal soul, asked me to take care of Sam, to look out for her. Sam values you, so therefore I will do what I can to keep you in one piece and virus-free.” Vincent took another drag then tossed the cigarette into the gutter. “Clear enough for you?”

  Ben was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Clear enough.”

  “Good. Can we go now?”

  “One more thing.” Ben looked at Vincent, his eyes full of a strange mixture of emotions: fear, anger, sadness, insatiable curiosity. “Sam... She... She has it, doesn’t she?” He swallowed hard. “I saw... the marks on her back... the other night... She does have it, doesn’t she?”

  Vincent felt sorry for the kid, asking this question when he already knew the answer. “Yes. Yes, she does.”

  Ben wilted slightly, rubbed at his eyes with his ungloved fingertips. His recovery was quick, though. He stood up straight and nodded. “Sam’s waiting. Let’s go.” Vincent nodded, and the two men hurried down the staircase, disappearing into the subway.

  21

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18th

  WORLD TRADE CENTER Memorial Park

  Sam tipped her head back as she took another tiny sip of Ivan’s headache syrup, then closed her eyes and leaned against the wall of the North Memorial Pool. It was working, relieving the ache in her head and the restless feeling throughout her body. She relished the relief, knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. The change was coming. She opened her eyes and looked over at Lenny.

  Lenny was leaning against the Pool wall as well, his back to the cascading water that poured down into the footprint left by the mammoth North Tower that had once stood here.

  Sam bit her lip as she studied his face, trying to discern what his reaction was going to be. She’d laid a lot on him since they left the apartment – Nazis, werewolves, Ivan, Vincent, herself – and yet Lenny’s face had remained inscrutable. She took out a cigarette and lit it, enjoying the taste of the tobacco as it mingled with the minty flavor of the headache syrup that still lingered in her mouth. At least he wasn’t screaming. Yet.

  “So...,” Lenny’s face came back to life as he sighed out the word. “We are dealing with Nazis?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes.”

  “And we are dealing with... Werewolves?”

  “Yes. Actually, it’s kind of both together. Both at the same time. Nazi werewolves.”

  Lenny nodded; his lips pursed. “And you are—”

  “Yes.” Sam jumped to cut him off, dreading the thought of actually hearing someone she knew, someone she considered a friend... Family, even... Say what she already knew to be true.... She was a werewolf. “But I’m not a Nazi.”

  Lenny looked at her, a slow take. He stared at her a moment, then abruptly smiled. “Well, of course not. That would be preposterous, now, wouldn’t it?” His smiled faded as he continued, “What do they want?”

  “Not entirely sure. My experience with the werewolves has been limited and violent. They attacked me, killed Ivan. Now, the Nazis...” Sam trailed off, shrugged. “The usual, I suppose.”

  “Create a master race, eliminate anyone and anything contrary to that. Only this time, the ‘master race’ is... Well, it’s bad enough when they have guns and rhetoric, now they have sharp teeth.” Lenny grimaced almost as soon as he said it. “Sorry, Sam. I forgot that you...”

  Sam held up a hand. “It’s okay, Len. I really don’t think of myself as one of them yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Well... I haven’t actually changed or anything.” She reached into her pocket for another cigarette and matches.

  “You know, those things are going to kill you.”

  “Really?” Sam said incredulously. “Under the circumstances, I think that’s the least of my worries.” As she struck a match and prepared to light the cigarette, she inhaled briefly through her nose. “My primary concern now is what I’m capable of, who I could kill...” She trailed off and turned toward West Street.

  “Sam?” Lenny stared at the expression on his partner’s face then followed her gaze.

  They were standing on the corner of Liberty and West by the pedestrian bridge. Three men, all tall, fit and dressed in a slick, sexy Euro-style. Their suits were classy and well-cut, obviously expensive, with wool topcoats completing the look. Their hair was trimmed in the same smooth and refined haircut. They didn’t look like they belonged in this neighborhood at all, and they were staring at him and Sam. Staring with an incredibly focused intensity.

  Lenny looked back to Sam and spoke, his voice as low as he could manage and still be heard. “Friend or foe?”

  Sam sniffed the air again and shook her head slowly. “I think it would be best if we did not find out. C’mon.”

  The two hurried toward Broadway and away from the Memorial and the men beyond. Sam glanced over her shoulder. The three werewolves were following them but remaining at a reasonable distance. She picked up the pace and Lenny followed suit. “We need to get to Saint Paul’s.”

  “We should be safe in the chapel, right? I mean, they can’t come in or anything.” Sam tried not to smile. He was starting to get nervous.

  “I don’t know about safe. I mean, they aren’t vampires or anything. I don’t think the whole ‘you-can’t-come-in-the-church’ thing works for them.”

  Lenny stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute, vampires aren’t real, too, are they?”

  “Vampires?” Sam slowed, turning back to Lenny. “Don’t be ridiculous, Len.” She looked over his shoulder and jerked her head in a gesture for him to follow. “C’mon.” Sam turned and took off again, making a mental note to ask Vincent if those creatures of the night were real and running around as well.

  Lenny glanced back and saw that the three werewolves were steadily approaching. He ran to catch up to Sam and the two hurried toward Vesey Street, the cemetery and Saint Paul’s beyond.

  22

  “YOU KNOW, THIS IS A church.”

  Vincent slowly opened his eyes. They had been closed for several moments while he leaned against the wall. He wasn’t exactly catching his breath, but he and the Emo kid had run from the other side of Park Row to get there. He had expected they would be late, but Sam was not here. Vincent took a long drag off the cigarette in his hand. Where the hell is she?

  “You are smoking. In a church.”

  Vincent looked over at the young man sitting on the floor. Ben was staring at him, his scolding expression almost childlike in its sincerity.

  Vincent glanced at the cigarette in his hand and shrugged. “I don’t see any ‘No Smoking’ signs. In fact, this is about the only place in the city that doesn’t have any. Besides,
they have candles up front. If they’re worried about fire, they should strike the beam, you know what I’m saying?” He punctuated the sentence with another long drag on his cigarette.

  Ben shook his head, clearly disappointed that his reprimand had not been taken to heart. He was about to speak again when the door noisily opened. Ben saw the flash of the leather duster whipping around as Vincent reached for his gun, then relax just as quickly when he realized who was entering.

  “You’re late.”

  Sam glared at Vincent as she replied. “Late? I’m the one who told you to be here. Maybe you’re early.”

  Her voice may have been clipped in her response to the other man, but Ben had known Sam long enough to know better. She liked this guy... A lot. Ben felt that little twinge of jealousy that always reared its ugly head when Sam was interested in some guy other than him. He had known since their first meeting in the hallway of the old apartment building near Saint Mark’s that he and Sam would be in each other’s life, well, forever. He also knew that place would always be one of friendship, not because either of them had ever put that wall up. It was just sort of naturally there, a subtle barrier that kept them from crossing into the realm of “friends-with-benefits” territory or relationship-land.

  They were friends, friends who would do anything for each other, and in many ways that was better. Not that Ben hadn’t had those moments when he was alone at night that he wouldn’t have loved to see what was under that –

  “Ben, what are you doing here?”

  Ben snapped out of his reverie and smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

  Sam’s stern expression softened into a smile. “You know what I mean.”

  Ben shrugged and got to his feet as he answered: “Well, I was leaving work. I went out to the parking lot and there were more werewolves than you can shake a stick at it.”