The walk home had also been a long one, as Vincent had led them on this circuit of the woods, taking them farther south first before swinging around to the other side of Sleepy Hollow, and heading north. Sam was exhausted by the time they reached the cabin and was tempted to simply take off her clothes and fall into bed. Instead, she took a hot shower, cleaning the blood and dirt off, hoping the soap would wash away some of the bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. The feeling didn’t go away, though, and when she rejoined Vincent in the living room and saw the expression on his face, it only intensified.
“What’s the matter?” Sam asked, and at the same time dreading his answer. Vincent looked up from where he sprawled on the sofa. He’d removed his coat and boots, and his head rested on the back of the sofa, his eyes looking up at the beams and rafters of the roof. She saw the remnants of a glass of Jameson on the table, and the bottle beside it.
“They’re coming farther and farther north.” Vincent’s voice was deep and full as he spoke. He turned and looked at Sam, his eyes wide and searching. “What does that tell you?”
Sam frowned thoughtfully and plopped down on the sofa with him. “Well, it tells me either they know where we are and are testing the waters to come after us...”
“They’ve always known where we are. Alice will keep her word. She’ll see to it they leave us alone.” Alice was Vincent’s sister, and the Alpha of the politi-wolves. At least, that’s what she had implied when Sam encountered her in Brooklyn last March. In return for Sam’s help in exploding a storage unit full of LV-contaminated meth, Alice had agreed that Vincent and Ben would be immune to hunting or violence from anyone in her organization. Vincent had seemed to take her word as bond when he heard what had happened, but Sam still had a niggling suspicion that Alice Kremer was not to be trusted.
“Or,” Sam continued, “they’re trying to get away from the city for another reason.” She frowned. “Did you notice how it acted?”
“Huh?”
“When it was going to lunge at me that first time, you told it no... and it listened.”
Vincent shrugged. “Coincidence?”
“I don’t think so.” Sam picked up Vincent’s glass and drained the generous sip of whiskey still at the bottom, relishing the burn as it coursed down her throat. “It acted like you had...authority.”
Vincent smirked. “Some people actually think I do.” Sam opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by the chime-like ring of her mobile phone. The time away from the city had been wonderful in many ways, but Sam missed some things terribly, among them the melodious chime of a church near her Chrystie Street apartment. She’d managed to find a similar ringtone and played it for herself at least once a day. Now, it was ringing on its own, which meant Ronne was likely calling. Perhaps he’d have some information about the werewolf, and what was happening back home. Sam grabbed her phone and answered.
“Hello?”
“Sammy? It’s Len.” Sam was shocked. She hadn’t heard from Detective Leonidas Jackson, her former partner in Narcotics, for weeks. According to Ronne, Lenny had been moved out of Narcotics into Major Case, and into a nice new desk at One Police Plaza. Though Sam wondered at the timing of the move, she couldn’t help but be happy for her former partner, who’d been one of the first victims of this influx of legendary creatures to the island. He’d recovered very well from the injuries sustained in that hospital parking garage almost a year ago, with residual backpain the only physical scar left from his ordeal. Mentally, Lenny seemed to have recovered as well, though a wall now existed between himself and Sam. The closeness and camaraderie of their partnership days was gone, replaced with a strained, uncomfortable friendship.
“Lenny? What’s up? Are you okay? Are Julissa and the kids—”
“Sammy, they’re fine.” He hesitated. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to know this... You should already know this.”
Sam frowned. “Know what? Lenny, what’s going on?” She noticed Vincent had changed position on the sofa, shifting himself upright and watching her carefully.
“Sam, when was the last time you heard from Ben?” Sam felt her blood run cold at the question. Her mind couldn’t work... How long had it been again? She couldn’t recall, her brain shutting down as she spoke mechanically.
“How long has he been missing, Lenny?” Vincent’s face changed at that, a frown descending on his brow even as his eyes widened.
“He hasn’t been to work in at least three weeks.” Sam felt the air leave her lungs. She felt like she was drowning, gasping for air in a vacuum. Her face must have reflected her desperation, for Vincent suddenly reached for the phone and spoke into it.
“Tell me... how long?—And Ronne hasn’t said anything? – Alright. Alright.” Vincent hung up, tossing the mobile on the table before pulling Sam into his arms. He squeezed her tightly, and Sam let out a gasp, gulping in the air and feeling lightheadedness overwhelm her.
“What do you want to do, Sam?”
Sam took several deep breaths, her eyes closed. Damn Ronne! He was supposed to keep an eye on Ben, protect him if needed, call her if necessary. Ben was an innocent in all of this, his only “sin” being her friend. And Alice... Sam could feel the rage building within her, and she thought Vincent must feel it, too, because his grip loosened slightly. He kept his arms around her, though, and Sam was grateful for it. She was standing on the edge of a precipice, looking over the edge at what she could be, what she could do, and she prayed that he knew not to let her go, for her sake as well as everyone else’s.
Sam took several deep, measured breaths before she opened her eyes. She knew even before she saw Vincent flinch that her eyes had changed, had gone black. Everything she looked at was grayscale and dull. Her mind, however, her focus, was as on-point as it had ever been. She felt a wave of menacing calm wash over her, and she wondered briefly if this is how a mob boss would feel when faced with the prospect of eliminating heads of the Five Families and such.
“Vincent?” Her voice sounded deep and throaty as she spoke, the effect of the modicum of change she had allowed to happen. It certainly got easier every time, and fleetingly Sam wondered if changing completely would be as easy...
“Yes, love? What do you want to do?”
“We’re going home. Tonight.”
3
JULY 6th
CHRYSTIE STREET, NEAR Delancey
The Bowery
Frank Ronne’s eyelids fluttered, opened very slowly. The room was dim, but there was enough light for him to see that he was in the Karolyi apartment, and was alone. He reached up to hold his head and winced the minute his hand touched his skin. Jesus, she’d punched him hard... Suddenly, Ronne felt a sharp cold on his hand, and Vincent’s voice:
“Put this on. Keep it moving.” Vincent set a glass on the coffee table, the sound echoing through the room and causing Ronne to wince and grab his head. Vincent smirked as he poured a generous portion of whiskey into the glass. “Sorry, man. Drink that.”
“Thanks,” Ronne said quietly, holding the ice pack Vincent had given him to his head while he reached for the glass. Ronne wasn’t a huge fan of whiskey, but right now the numbing power of alcohol sounded ideal. He sipped, swallowing quickly so that it stayed in his mouth for as little time as possible.
“Should have given him aspirin instead.” Sam entered from the kitchen, clearly still angry if the tone of her voice and the tension in her slight frame were any indication. She plopped down in the soft chair at the far side of the seating area and pulled her legs up, hugging them to her. She looked small and vulnerable, not like the raging woman she’d been on the street earlier. Ronne wondered for a moment what time it was, and he squinted at the shadows and sunlight extending up the wall to his right.
“How long was I out?”
Vincent frowned at the large, black mantle clock over the fireplace. “At least four hours. I was going to go get Hudson if you didn’t wake up soon. How does it feel?”
“Alright, then,” Vincent began, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. “I think it’s safe to say that, despite your calls up north with updates, you weren’t exactly, um, complete.” He looked at Sam briefly, and their eyes meant intently. No doubt having a brief exchange out of my hearing, thought Ronne. Whatever was said must have satisfied Sam, because her posture relaxed even more and her gazed cooled. Vincent gave a small nod, then turned his attention back to Ronne. “So, Francis, what do you say?”
Ronne repositioned the ice pack and took a deep breath. “Where do you want to start?”
Vincent met Sam’s gaze again, his eyes intense as he spoke: “Three weeks ago, Sam and I killed another werewolf. A female, hunting in the woods north of the Hollow. You heard anything about a couple missing?”
Ronne winced as he willed his brain to recall... “Yes. Hispanic couple from the Bronx. Gomez, I think their name was. The werewolf killed them?”
“Yes. And no.” Vincent reached for the bottle of Jameson and poured a generous portion into an empty glass on the table. He’d barely set the bottle down before he was taking a large drink from the glass, swallowing hard. “We had to put them down.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. That wasn’t the first werewolf we caught in those woods over the past three months. They were there, and they were looking for something.”
Ronne frowned, puzzled. “Looking for... for you two?”
Vincent shook his head, then took another drink before he spoke: “Funny thing is, they didn’t seem to be looking for us at all. Seemed genuinely shocked to find us, and even terrified that they had. One ran so hard to get back south to the city... where was it we caught him, love?”
“Dobbs Ferry,” Sam replied quietly.
“Dobbs Ferry. Right.” Vincent drained the last of the whiskey in his glass and leaned back on the sofa, one leg bent up, the ankle resting on the opposite knee.
“So,” Ronne began, “you think the most recent insurgent into the north was not looking for you, but for someone else?”
Vincent tapped the tip of his nose. “Yes. The question is, who?” He looked at Ronne. “Any ideas?” He watched as the injured man frowned in thought, hoping whatever information they could get out of him wasn’t so addled by Sam’s attack on him that they couldn’t trust it. On one hand, Ronne seemed to be struggling to process what was going on, but... Vincent watched the man carefully. On the other hand, he may be extra cautious now because of Sam’s outburst, and because what he may have to say could bring another one on. Vincent was just about to tell Sam to go and get...something... when Ronne replied:
“I don’t know. But I do know there’s been a lot of...upheaval... in the Pack the last month or so.”
“Upheaval?” Sam asked with a quiet, restrained voice. She was doing an admirable job controlling herself, and Vincent could feel the calm emanating from her. All the techniques he’d been teaching her the past few months were paying off.
Ronne nodded. “Yes. There have been more meetings, more ‘Bund Rallies’, if you will, since March. The last one was in Brooklyn, billed as a rally for Congresswoman Donna Strong.” Sam remembered the woman, a snappy politician with short, blonde hair and skill as an orator, who was currently campaigning for mayor. She was also convinced that the woman, or someone in the woman’s political team, had been responsible for getting her suspended and, ultimately, fired from the NYPD. Sam shifted slightly, allowing her to lean forward a bit as Ronne continued: “There was an incident in April... Something to do with missing money and possible tampering during the mayoral primary. The press jumped on it at first, but by the end of the week they’d moved on, and you couldn’t find a word about it anywhere. Their public relations indicated that those involved were no longer a part of the campaign, and at least one of her closest aides was fired or quit... No one was sure, she just disappeared.”
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked: “Frank, when was the last time you saw Alice Kremer?” Sam could feel Vincent poke at her mind, trying, no doubt, to find out why she was asking that. Despite his sister’s less-than-noble leanings, Vincent still had a protective instinct for her, an instinct they’d argued about several times since Sam had found out about Ben being missing.
Ronne glanced at Vincent briefly. “I haven’t seen or heard anything of her in weeks... at least six weeks. Around the time...” He stopped abruptly, a nervous look flashing across his face.
“Around the time Ben went missing? Yeah, let’s talk about that a bit, shall we?” Sam tried to keep the anger inside of her from rekindling. She needed to focus, for Ben’s sake, if no one else’s. “What do you know about what happened to Ben?”
Ronne nodded. “Not very much, but I’ll tell you everything I know.
“Congresswoman Strong has made a lot of progress in her campaign in the last few months. The results of the primary in May were... startling, and a lot of people started asking questions even before the tampering and financial accusation came up. Ben... Ben was staying here, as you wanted, and I was checking in on him at least twice a week. We...” Ronne smirked at his recollection, “We found some mutual fandoms... Chinese takeout, Resident Evil movies... The one evening, we’d gotten takeout and were preparing to watch the most recent movie when he showed me a message board.”
“Let me guess...,” Sam said with a smile. “Underland.”
“Yes.” Ronne smiled as well, but the smile faded quickly. “Anyway, he showed me how they communicate with each other, how to find the rally locations, and while we were looking a private message box popped up. Someone within Underland was messaging him, one message after the other, quite frantic. Ben became very nervous, and he closed the window and the page. He put the movie on, and we watched and ate, and about halfway through his phone began to buzz. Ben hesitated, but when he did check it... His whole demeanor changed, and he said we’d have to finish some other time, that he needed to be somewhere, it was an emergency. I offered to go with him, but he was quite adamant that it was just a friend who needed to talk.”
“A friend, huh?” Sam glanced at Vincent as she pondered who it could have been. Ben rarely gave real life names to the various gamers and Comic Con types he interacted with online. In many ways, even his social networking and friendships were a kind of roleplay, as is the case for so many people. “When did you realize he was missing?”
Ronne hesitated. “I...didn’t...really... and I know how awful that sounds. I called Ben a couple of times, left messages... Then, about a week after I last saw him, I got a text message saying that he was going up north to see you.”
“He never came to see me.”
“Well, obviously not.” Ronne winced, and repositioned the ice pack again. It was barely cool now, and the ache in his head felt like it was spreading to his neck and shoulders. “You know, I think I might have whiplash from that punch you gave me.”
Vincent chuckled. “Actually, that’s probably from her jumping you near the market.”
“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Sam began, her brow furrowed with irritation. “The message said that he was coming north to see me? Me specifically?”
“Yes.” Ronne reached in his pocket, pulling out his mobile phone. He skimmed through his text message, and, finding the right one, handed the phone to Sam. Sam took it quickly and read the words on the screen: Going north to see Sam. Will call when I get back. Ben.
Sam sighed as she looked at the words. She read them over again once, twice, then handed the phone back to Ronne. “So, it was a week after you last saw him when you got this. That means whatever happened, it was before this message was sent.”
“You think he didn’t write it?” Vincent asked.
/> Sam shook her head quickly. “No, I don’t think he did. I think someone sent it from his phone so that Frank wouldn’t go looking for him. They took a real chance with that, though. I mean, what if he’d called us to check up and discovered Ben wasn’t with us.” Sam unfolded from her nestled position in the chair, stretching her legs and getting to her feet. She turned to Ronne. “There’s chicken soup in the refrigerator, and you need to eat something before you can take some aspirin.” Without waiting for comment, Sam headed for the kitchen. When she reached the doorway, she paused and turned back. “One more thing, Frank. When did Lenny know?”
Ronne frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.” Sam nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen. Soon, the sounds of water running and pans on the stove could be heard.
Ronne turned to Vincent, and kept his voice low as he asked, “Why did she ask about Lenny?”
Vincent glanced at the kitchen briefly before he replied, “Lenny was the one who called us and told us he was missing.” Ronne’s eyes opened wide at that, and his mouth was dangerously close to falling open. Vincent nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at the kitchen again before leaning in, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you think Lenny...?” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows slightly and hoping that Ronne was catching his drift without him having to spell it out. Sam’s hearing was excellent, and even with her working in the kitchen, she could easily catch their conversation. The last thing Vincent needed was for her to lose control again.
Ronne hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and shook his head. Vincent wasn’t entirely sure of his meaning, but whether it was that he didn’t know, or that he didn’t believe Lenny could be dirty, Ronne didn’t seem disturbed by it.
“Tomorrow.” Sam leaned in the doorway, her shoulder resting on the door frame, her arms crossed. She looked thoughtful, and Vincent could almost hear the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers. “Tomorrow, you two are going to go and talk to Hudson.”
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 47
