“Vincent...”
“Get off of him now!” Vincent raised his right hand, aiming the gun in that hand at the two on the bed. The tears he’d struggled to keep suppressed we’re begin to fall, the strain of two years of searching, running, hiding... and killing... Good God, the killing! He’d put down so many of them, they’d given him a name... “Wolfmordor,” the wolf killer... Not the most inventive thing in the world, but it did the job... He’d spent two years killing his own kind, systematically exterminating them as he tried to find her... and now...
“Get off of him, Alice... now, or I’ll—”
“What, Vincent?” Alice jumped up, planting her feet and facing off with him from across the room. “Shoot me! Are you going to put me down, Vincent, like you did all those others? They had families, friends, people they loved... but you killed them... killed them all...Are you going to do that to us?” Alice took a single step toward him, her hand outstretched as she continued. “We only have each other now, Vincent... You and me... I need you, Vincent.”
Vincent felt his resolve weakening... then movement caught his eye. Prutzmann had gotten up and was moving toward the door he had come in, the one leading to the main warehouse and escape. No!!! Vincent turned the gun to aim it at him. Alice was moving, too, and Vincent expected to feel her hands on him trying to stop him. But it never happened. The gun fired, and Vincent heard a small gasp, and everything grew quite still until the sound of Alice’s body hitting the floor broken the silence.
Prutzmann stared at Alice for a moment. Then he looked at Vincent, turned and ran into the warehouse.
Vincent watched as he left... the man who had killed his family, infected him, destroyed his sister...
“V-V-Vin...cent...” His sister’s voice drew his gaze back to her for a moment. The mercury was coursing through her body. In minutes at most, she would be gone, melted into nothing but a puddle of silvery waste by the chemical reaction taking place inside of her. She grabbed his arm, gasping as she spoke. “V-Vincent... don’t... don’t... hurt... him...”
When Vincent Kremer looked back on that night, the second worst night of his entire life, he knew that was the moment when something broke inside of him, when he stopped caring, when he stopped wanting to care... It was, in his mind, the ultimate betrayal, that in this moment of death, her plea was for him to spare the life of THAT...
Vincent stood up, backing away from his little sister, his Alice... He drew both guns, turned and walked out of the building, the sound of Alice’s screams echoing in his ears as he disappeared into the night.
22
SAM LEANED BACK IN the window-booth; her gaze fixed on the street outside. Her talk with Hudson had been draining... plus he’d managed to coax her downstairs for another blood draw. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d decided to call Frank Ronne then... she kept trying to tell herself it was simply for the ride to work, but when they swung by their favorite coffee shop near City Hall, Sam knew it was more than that. Learning the truth about Vincent had been intense... she needed coffee and sugary goodness... and she needed a friend, and those were few and far between anymore.
She glanced back into the coffee shop, at the smiling clerk handing Ronne the tray with two coffees and a pastry box. They exchanged a few words and the clerk laughed a bit too loudly. Sam stifled a smile and turned her gaze back to the street outside. Ronne had that effect on women sometimes... Okay, all the time. The man was handsome, and more than that, he was smooth. Not creepy smooth or scummy smooth... just SMOOTH. He couldn’t help himself, he just was, and you really couldn’t help but like him. The man oozed sincerity and a genuine sense of –
“Sam?” Sam jumped slightly, though she knew it was Ronne, and turned to see her coffee cup suspended in front of her. “Cream and stevia, right?”
Sam smiled. “Yes, thank you.” She took the coffee, relishing the feeling of warmth that the hot cup sent through her chilly fingers up through her hands, arms, into her very bones. She watched as Ronne sat down across from her, carefully taking the lid off his coffee and reaching for one of the sugar packets. He put one packet into the cup, stirring it carefully with one of the stick-stirrers, then bent to carefully take a sip. The careful sip ended up being a noisy one, as the coffee was steaming hot and Ronne quickly pulled away, his lips making a slurping sound as he did. Sam giggled, and Ronne squinted at her in the best attempt at a glare he could make while he struggled not to laugh.
“It’s not funny. I could’ve died.”
Sam started to laugh outright. “From sipping hot coffee?”
Ronne sat back, wiping his chin with one of the paper napkins. He’d been letting his facial hair grow a bit, and the days of careful trimming were yielding an attractive goatee. His ice blue eyes twinkled as he winked at her. “Absolutely! People die of coffee sippage all the time.”
“Sippage? Did you just make that up?”
Ronne smirked. “Yeah... I think I’ve been spending too much time around you.”
Sam chuckled as she grabbed the bag of pastries. “You have my heartfelt sympathies.” She reached in and pulled out a large jelly doughnut. “And just for that bit of snarkiness, I’m taking this one.”
Ronne frowned. “Wench.” The frown faded quickly as he watched Sam taking an unusually large bite of the doughnut, jelly squirting out and dripping down onto the napkin below. The pair both laughed. Sam sighed as she chewed, wiping her mouth and sitting back in the booth. Her gaze drifted to the street again and she could feel herself zoning out.
“Do I need to burn myself again?”
Sam turned quickly, startled from her reverie. “Huh?”
Ronne smiled, his lips pressed together tightly for a moment before he answered. “You’ve been very distracted lately. That laugh a minute ago... was the first I’ve heard you laugh in a while.” He carefully sipped his coffee. “So, tell a friend... or at least tell your partner, because I do not want you zoning out on me out there.”
Sam sighed, using a napkin to wipe the crumbs on the table like it was her life’s work. She knew eventually he was going to want more information than he had, and as her partner Ronne deserved to know...something...
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me now...” Ronne took another sip of coffee. “Enjoy your coffee and your doughnut and the pleasure of my company.” He winked and smiled, but the smile faded quickly as a somber look descended on his handsome face. “But we will need to talk soon. And I want you to know, to understand... no matter what it is, I’m not going to turn my back on you. Your friendship is important to me... I care about what happens to you.” He stared intently at her, and Sam felt like his icy gaze was piercing through her.
“Your friendship is important to me, too.”
Ronne continued to stare for a moment, then smiled broadly. “Good. And now...” He reached out, grabbing the pastry bag. “I’d better grab the other jelly doughnut before you snarf that one down to.”
“Snarf? Hey now!” Sam laughed as she watched Ronne bite into the other doughnut, dramatically rolling his eyes in ecstasy as he did. That caused her to laugh even harder, and she was close to hiccupping when Ronne’s radio beeped. Sam tried to recover as much as she could as Ronne chuckled and answered the call. “Ronne, go ahead.”
“Is Karolyi with you?” It was Lieutenant Martino, and he did not sound happy...at...all.
“Yeah, she’s here.”
“Get her down here. Now!” The radio clicked off.
“Well...” Ronne sighed, popped the last bite of doughnut into his mouth, chewing as he grabbed his hat and stood. Sam grabbed her coffee and slid out as well. She watched as Ronne swallowed, put his hat on carefully, slipped his coat on, and donned his sunglasses. He sighed, and reached out, giving Sam a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Let’s go partner.”
Sam nodded, feeling herself switch to autopilot as she followed him out of the coffee shop. Martino sounded strained over the radio, and Sam had that pit-of-your-stomach feeling this was not
going to be good.
NYPD 9TH PRECINCT
Sam and Ronne never made it into the Lieutenant’s office. As soon as they walked into the precinct, they found Martino waiting in the entry. Sam noticed the man looked more harried than usual, and even before she saw their faces, she knew who was coming toward them, and had a good idea why.
“Martino? Is this her?” Police Commissioner Stanley Chen scowled slightly as he looked at her, his frown fading slightly as a flicker of recognition passed over his face. “Yes... I remember you, Officer Karolyi. The Brooklyn Bridge incident.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Chen looked askance at the IAB rep... Sam had struggled not to look at the Rat Leader, but she felt forced to glance up, and her eyes met his cold and malice-filled gaze for only a moment, but in that moment, Sam knew... knew what was coming even before Commissioner Chen started to speak.
“Officer Karolyi, I’m going to have to ask you for your badge and your gun.”
“Why?” Ronne started to step forward, but Martino quickly put up a staying hand.
“I would have preferred to do this somewhere more private,” Commissioner Chen began, throwing a glare at Rat Leader. He lowered his voice slightly, stepping closer to Sam and away from Rat Leader. “I have to suspend you indefinitely pending investigation of the death of Walter Stefanovich, and reinvestigation of the events that took place six months ago, including the assault on Detective Leonidas Jackson.” He took a deep breath, glancing at Rat Leader again.
Before Chen could continue, Rat Leader jumped in, speaking far louder than necessary as he asked, “Officer Karolyi, what happened to Walt Stefanovich’s body?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “His body? What are you talking about?”
Rat Leader snorted incredulously. “Oh please... He disappeared from the mortuary, nothing but a puddle of mercury mixed with plasma and unknown cells left behind.” He frowned at her, his jaw tightening as he continued. “That seems to happen a lot when you’re involved.”
“Enough!” Commissioner Chen raised a hand in a gesture for silence, his focus turning back to Sam. “Officer? Your weapon and badge.”
Sam fought back her tears as she quickly unbuckled her gun belt, then pulled off her badge, handing both, not to the Commissioner, but to Martino. “I need to get my things.”
Rat Leader chimed in. “We can send them to you.”
Commissioner Chen threw him a withering glare, but his gaze softened as he turned back to Sam. “You have ten minutes. Martino, with me!” He turned and quickly walked back toward the elevators, Rat Leader steps behind.
Martino sighed, patted Sam on the shoulder, then turned to Ronne. “Go with her, Frank.” Ronne nodded in reply, and Martino sighed again before heading for the elevator bank.
Sam and Ronne were silent for the entire trip to the locker room. Several officers were in there when they arrived, but everyone was silent as they entered. Sam went straight to her locker, quickly opening it and beginning the process of removing her uniform and slipping into the extra clothes she always kept for emergencies. Guess this qualified as an emergency. She pulled the leggings on, pulled the NY Giants tee shirt over her head and reached in for the sweatshirt hanging inside.
“So...” Ronne was leaning against the end of the locker bank, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“So.” Sam pulled the sweatshirt on, then turned her attention to the small items on the shelf in the locker. She picked out a lighter, a small yearly planner, a travel-size bottle of ibuprofen, and pocketed them, then she closed the door on the rest. Ronne moved around the corner, still leaning against the lockers and raised an eyebrow. Sam knew why, too. “Yes, I’m leaving the rest in there. I’m not in the mood to clean it out for them.” Ronne smirked and folded his arms across his chest.
“So... you’re still not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam heaved an overdramatic sigh and shook her head. “Not today, Frank.”
Ronne nodded. “Fine. When?”
“I don’t know.” Sam walked over to the garbage can, pulling the hairpins out of the tight bun at the back of her head and throwing them in. She shook out her hair, letting it hang loose, rubbing her scalp with a sigh. “Glad to be rid of those.”
“You’ll be back.” Sam didn’t reply. Instead, she turned quickly and headed for the door. Ronne’s smirk faded fast and he followed her. “Sam? You will be back.”
Sam paused at the door before she looked back at him and smiled. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”
Sam fairly flew out of the room, taking the stairs to speed her descent and hoping Ronne wouldn’t decide to follow her and continue the conversation, partly because she didn’t have a whole lot of answers she could give him, and partly because if he kept talking to her, she knew she was going to start crying.
She could see the door ahead, the exit to the street outside and an opportunity to let all these tears out as soon as she found a suitable spot.
“Hey Sam!” Sam pulled up short. The usual afternoon clerk wasn’t behind the desk... instead Chris Connolly’s smiling face greeted her.
“Hey...” Connolly continued, motioning for her to come closer. Sam walked over, leaning on the counter. “Sorry about...well... rats always get theirs, right?” Connolly was quiet for a moment as a pair of officers walked by, then she leaned in again. “Listen, there was a guy in here looking for you...Irish, hot... He didn’t leave a name, but said you should get in touch with him, that you know how.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know how. Thanks, Chris.”
“And hey...” Connolly took out a slip of paper and wrote quickly as she spoke. “I’ve found out some more stuff about that PERV-E. Interesting stuff.” She slid the paper across to Sam, a phone number written on it. “Give me a call...and we’ll talk.”
“Will do. Thank you.” Sam pocketed the number quickly and headed for the door.
“Hang tough, girl!” Connolly raised her voice, loud enough that several officers in the area looked a bit uncomfortable. What she said next made them look even more uncomfortable. “Remember, rats always get theirs!”
23
AFTER SAM LEFT THE “9,” she’d walked in a kind of trance, crossing streets and passing buildings, numerous Duane Reade® drug stores, and a brace of her fellow cops in their usual spot near Trinity Church. She slowed a bit after that, taking a quick turn toward the Freedom Tower and World Financial Center.
A few minutes later she was walking on the Esplanade, her steps slowing to more of a stroll as she ran her hand along the railing and looked out at the spot where the Hudson River met up with New York Harbor. Sam paused, leaning on the railing, the Merchant Marine statue rising out of the river in front of her. She lit a cigarette and quietly smoked, watching as the evening sun illuminated Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, even as the shadows grew behind her. Evening was rolling in, and Sam shivered, the chill of the air beginning to penetrate her heavy sweatshirt. She tossed her cigarette butt, shoved her hands into the large pocket of the sweatshirt... and froze.
Sam could feel the eyes on her, watching her. Only a pair, she guessed, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she scented. Sam exhaled, parting her lips just enough to allow air to rush in when she inhaled. She breathed deeply, the air rushing into both her nose and mouth, over her tongue... She could taste the water, slightly salty and tainted... She could taste the hotdogs being sold outside the Staten Island Terminal, and her stomach growled noisily... and she could taste...him... Her blood went cold and Sam couldn’t control the shiver that raced through her body. Luckily, she could cover it believably because of the cold weather, but in truth she was afraid... and being afraid with John Prutzmann this close was not a good thing. The last time they had seen each other, she was in the throes of her conversion, on the cusp of transformation, and gushing pheromones like crazy, and Prutzmann’s gaze hadn’t exactly been cordial and non-threatening. More like angry and lustful. Sam knew she didn’t have the physical stren
gth to fight him off if he decided to attack her, but a second scenting brought a scent to her she didn’t expect... and the chill of fear disappeared almost immediately.
Prutzmann smelled of fear, and of a woman... a woman who smelled a lot like Vincent.
“Nice night, eh?” Sam turned slightly as Prutzmann stepped toward her. He had his hands casually in the pocket of his topcoat, his suit perfectly tailored, his dress shoes shined.
“Mhmm... You know, I have to hand it to you Nazi werewolves... you sure know how to dress.”
Prutzmann chuckled, the smile a genuine one has he leaned against the railing a few feet from her. “Well, you know what they say... clothes make the man. Or in this case the werewolf.” He looked at her closely, a slight flare in his light eyes the only indicator that he was affected by her pheromones. “You look...well.”
“Thanks.” Sam turned around, leaning her back against the rail as she took out another cigarette. She glanced at Prutzmann, then held up the pack. “Would you like one?”
He held up the e-cig in his hand. “Trying to quit but thank you.” Sam felt his eyes fixed on her as she lit her cigarette and enjoyed the first puff. Prutzmann looked at his e-cig for a moment, then back at the cigarette in her hand.
Sam chuckled and moved closer, the pack in her outstretched hand. “Go ahead... John, isn’t it?”
Prutzmann smirked and nodded. He pocketed the e-cig and reached out, taking the offered cigarette as well as the light that Sam offered. He inhaled deeply, a look of relaxation and contentment washing over his face as he exhaled. “That... brings back memories.”
“That can be good and bad.”
Prutzmann squinted at her. “I suppose.” He ran a hand through his longish blond hair and turned to stare out at the water. “All depends on how you look at things. How you interpret things.”
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 35
