The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  The shorter werewolf yelled, “Shut up!” Then he tightened his grip on the waitress just...a little...more... She squealed in terror and pain. The shorter werewolf started to laugh, but his laughter suddenly stopped, and his face took on a shocked, pained look. Vincent frowned. What the hell?

  Perhaps Ronne could see something he couldn’t, but suddenly Vincent heard the other man take after the taller werewolf again. The businesswoman screamed and there was a clatter into the kitchen. Vincent drew his gun and turned back to the shorter werewolf just in time to watch him release the waitress. He fell to the floor, and Vincent noted the empty syringe in his back. Shocked, Vincent looked up, and at the group of German tourists, and the elderly man who was closest to the fallen werewolf, and to Vincent.

  The man had to be in his eighties at least, but still quite nimble, as no sign of a cane or other walking aid was visible. He was wrinkled like crepe paper and dressed like he’d stepped out of a sepia photograph. He looked at Vincent with a look that shocked him even more. This old man knew... he knew what was going on, and he knew what to do. He knew what Vincent was.

  As if he knew what the path of Vincent’s thoughts were, the old man smiled, and gave a deep nod. “Muss immer für Sie bereit sein, eh, Wolfmorder?” The old man chuckled and winked at Vincent.

  Vincent managed to pull his thoughts together enough to speak. “Yes. Always ready for them.” He smiled, searching his mind for the proper words, and hoping his pronunciation wasn’t too bad. “Danke. Vielen Dank.” The old man smiled broadly, as did many in his group.

  Ronne came stumbling out of the kitchen, looking around as if expecting further assault. He spotted Vincent and frowned. “Vincent? Is yours dead?”

  “Getting there.” Vincent looked down at the body, beginning to shudder and melt already. “Yours?”

  Ronne nodded. “Yeah. Thank God they had old-school thermometers in there.” He paused by their table, grabbing his ice water and taking a generous drink before he continued: “We’d better run if we’re going to get to Sam in time.”

  Vincent nodded, and turned to the waitress, who was frozen in fear as she watched the shorter werewolf on the floor melting away. “Sorry for all the trouble, darlin’. Um, could we get those burgers to go?”

  7

  5th Avenue

  Near Washington Square Park

  Sam was beginning to think the idea of indulging in a bit of a walk before taking the train home was a bad one. She glanced back at the two werewolves pursuing her, both clad in the rough apparel of a construction laborer and wondered how much longer before they were going to come after her.

  They had been following her since she’d left the diner, but the real pursuit had started when she neared the subway station on 23rd. Sam had opted for walking and soaking up the sun, but her real motivation was to get to a train that would get her as close to home as possible with no train changes and as few stops as could be managed. That meant the F train at Sixth and 23rd, which would get her close enough to home to allow her to enjoy a cigarette in the open air as she walked the few blocks to the apartment.

  When she’d neared the subway stop, however, the werewolves had kicked into high gear, beginning a foot pursuit that pushed Sam past the subway and on to Fifth Avenue. Now running south, she could see the Arch of Washington Square Park up ahead and struggled to go through the subway map in her head, trying to figure out whether she could duck into a station there and catch a train home quickly. She put another burst of energy into her run, grateful the timing of her running was hitting the streetlights perfectly, avoiding traffic as she dashed to the other side and continued on. She could feel her muscles burning and tapped into some of her Lycan strength to refresh her muscles and keep her going. The sprints were getting to her, though she was better at bursts than steady, long distance running. She raised her eyes, looking up to see if any building she was passing had scaffolding or fire escapes that were accessible. If she could get off the ground and up, she could gain time on them by climbing, and then free run between the buildings until she found one she could duck into. No external renovations were going on, unfortunately, and so Sam ran on, getting ever closer to the park and its iconic Arch.

  Sam sprinted across West 9th Street, and slowed to catch her breath, glancing back. The west/east traffic light had just turned green, and the werewolves chasing her also had to slow. They, however, were still across the street. Sam gasped for breath, taking in deep breaths to give her lungs and body as much oxygen as possible before she had to run again. Which would not be long, judging by the activity behind her. She took off again, trying to pace herself and hold on to what energy she could so that she could put on another burst of speed when she got to the park.

  Though there would be a bit of activity in Washington Square Park at this time of day, it was also open enough that she could sprint through, dodging people as needed, and get to 4th Street, and to the F-train, well ahead of this pair. Ahead, the Arch was tantalizingly close, and Sam sped up slightly as she neared Washington Square North. She inhaled, and nearly pulled up in a full stop, for as she reached the corner, she ran right into the very last person she ever expected to see on this street corner, or any other, for that matter.

  John Prutzmann.

  Sam gasped for breath, not sure whether to keep holding his arm, which she’d grabbed to stop them from tumbling to the ground when she barreled into him. She took in his appearance, noting how pale he was, how much thinner. Some of his impressive musculature had disappeared, and, though he was still a sizable man, broad-shouldered and toned, he was... diminished somehow.

  Prutzmann was looking at her with that half-smile, half-leer he seemed to have perfected when it came to his interaction with her, then his expression changed to... fear. Sam turned, following his gaze to the place behind her, but knowing what she was going to see.

  The werewolves were running toward them, and they were looking madder with every stride.

  “Apparently, they don’t like running for thirty blocks either,” Sam gasped out.

  “Well, we’ll run them thirty more if we have to. C’mon!” And with that, Prutzmann grabbed her hand firmly, and the two ran across the street and under the Arch into Washington Square Park.

  They raced through the park, hand-in-hand. Ordinarily, the sheer size and strength of Prutzmann would have meant Sam being dragged along. She’d often wondered how it was that he and Vincent could face off the way they did, how Vincent could hold his own. Prutzmann was taller, broader, and even now, more built than her Irishman, but Vincent... Sam felt that familiar tickle in her mid-section when thinking of him. Vincent was special in his own way, like her. Perhaps that was the key. After all, even with added strength, who would expect a tiny person like herself to be able to take down Ronne. She felt a twinge of guilt over that, and wondered briefly how he was feeling today, and if his head was aching too much.

  “Where are we going?” Prutzmann’s voice was a bit higher than usual, owing to the pace they were keeping no doubt. Sam glanced around briefly as they ran, then pointed with her free hand off to the right.

  “Subway station... Fourth Street... that way...”

  “Which train??

  “F... Southbound...” Prutzmann nodded, and they ran on.

  “You know, this place used to be a cemetery.” As soon as she said it, Sam wondered why the hell she had.

  Prutzmann chuckled. “That’s ironic, huh? We’re running through an old cemetery... being chased by monsters.” He winked at her as they bore right and approached 4th Street. “Except, of course, we’re monsters, too.”

  Sam remained quiet at that, struck by this cockiest of werewolves dubbing himself a monster rather than a god or something. Perhaps he had become disillusioned with his compatriots... Perhaps there was a reason why he was running away from what she assumed were his own foot soldiers rather than simply calling them off... But why would he care what happened to her anyway? Sam suddenly felt apprehensive and wondere
d if the measure of trust she was giving him by taking his hand, and literally showing Prutzmann her projected escape route was on the way-too-friggin’-trusting end of the trust scale.

  There was no time to ponder it, though, because seconds later they exited the park and were approaching the subway station. Sam’s acute hearing could pick up the sound of the train as they reached the top steps. She had no idea if it was the F, but whatever it was they were going to need to grab it. Sam glanced back as they prepared to descend the stairs, and the two werewolves were just running out of the park and turning to run toward them.

  Prutzmann and Sam hurried down the stairs, Prutzmann holding the railing, curiously enough, and Sam resolved to ask him about his condition when they were safely in the train car. He probably would get mad, but she didn’t care... this whole thing was just damn odd.

  As soon as they reached the gates, Sam knew it was the F-train. She fed her Metro card through, and passed through the turnstile, handing the card quickly to Prutzmann, who did the same. Then to the stairs, and the platform below. The pair reached the train just as the chimes rang and the doors began sliding closed, squeezing through just in time. There was a long moment, or at least it felt long, as Sam and Prutzmann watched the stairs, waiting for the werewolves to appear. They felt the lurch of the train as it began to creep forward, and a bit of the anxiety and adrenalin began to subside as they headed out of the station.

  The werewolves thundered down the stairs, reaching the platform seconds after the train began to move. Sam watched as another joined them moments later, though this one was clad in the more traditional wardrobe of a Prutzmann foot soldier... stylish suit and trench coat, slicked hair, dark glasses. He was clearly unhappy with the results, or lack thereof, that the construction werewolves had achieved, and, as the platform faded behind them, Sam saw the werewolves leaving, and Euro-wolf on the phone.

  8

  F-TRAIN, SOUTHBOUND

  “We’ll get out at Second Avenue. We can make it to the apartment from there,” Sam said as she leaned against the side of the seat. Prutzmann had managed to take the seat right on the end, and was slumped a bit, his posture revealing just how exhausted he was. Sam began to wonder if he was going to make it when they got off the train... After all, there would likely be company when they arrived, and another mad dash might be in order to reach the apartment safely.

  “We?” Prutzmann smirked, a little of that cocky fire coming back into his eyes. “Are you inviting me up to your place? Seems like your Irishman wouldn’t take kindly to that.”

  “No, my Irishman would probably attempt to break your face. But my house, my rules... And I have a lot of questions for you.”

  “Like?”

  Sam shook her head. “Not now. Save your strength... I have a feeling we’ll have a welcoming party when we get there, and we’ll have to run for it again.” She sighed and looked at him pointedly. “Not far, thankfully. Dude, I hate to be tacky, but are you going to make it?”

  Prutzmann sat up a bit in the seat, perhaps trying to salvage what dignity he felt he had left. “Well, if I know anything about Vincent, I know he’s not far. He won’t leave you unwatched for long. You won’t be alone.” Prutzmann’s demeanor changed, a cloud seeming to fall over him as he spoke, and Sam felt her curiosity rising to a fever pitch. “Do you think they’ll try to get on at the in-between stops?” Prutzmann asked.

  “No, I think they’ll aim for the station closest to home. I can’t believe they’d go into this blind. They know where we’re headed... I’m sure they’ve figured out by now how to get ahead of us.” She paused, watching Prutzmann nod his head slowly. They’d passed Broadway-Lafayette Street, and headed on towards Second Avenue. Sam thought quickly and decided that now might be the only chance she got to ask...So she did.

  “John? Do you know what happened to Ben?” All Sam could hear was the squeal of the metal-on-metal, the snapping of electricity, the rumble of the train barreling through the tunnel. Finally, Prutzmann looked up at her, his face calm and arguably the most open and vulnerable that Sam had ever seen it.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that he’s missing, and the reason he’s missing, whatever it is... is why Alice disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Sam frowned. “Wait, I thought... Lenny said you sent her away.”

  “I did, but—“

  Suddenly the train car filled with the light from the platform as they barreled into Second Avenue Station. Sam prepared to press Prutzmann for more information, even riding on to the next station if needed, when she heard him curse, followed his gaze out the window and onto the platform.

  The platform was packed with people waiting to board the train... and the werewolves were there waiting, too.

  The doors chimed and began to slide open. The people inside the train car surged toward the doors, while the people on the platform crowded the door from the outside, ready to be the first through to grab a seat. Sam pulled on Prutzmann’s arm and jerked her head toward the doors leading out of the car in the opposite direction. Prutzmann looked around, searching for something to use as a wedge. The crowd behind them began to move, and Sam glanced back to see where the werewolves were, how close... too close.

  “C’mon!” Sam pulled his arm, and Prutzmann followed obediently. They hurried to the connecting door between the cars, sliding it open and stepping out onto the coupling. Sam listened for the sound of an oncoming train... All clear. She quickly jumped down to the clear area between the neighboring tracks, carefully avoiding the third rail. Stepping quickly out of the way, Sam waited for Prutzmann to hop down. He hesitated slightly, then made the small leap, landing safely. That’s when Sam felt it... the hint of a warm wind pushing up from the tunnel... Followed moments later by the screech of the wheels on metal as the train began the braking process before reaching the station.

  The northbound train was arriving. Sam and Prutzmann hurried over the neighboring tracks, and to the low wall of the northbound platform. The pair pulled themselves up to the northbound platform, scrambling back away from the edge. The werewolves watched from inside the southbound train cars, and Sam could see them scrambling to get back out of the train car as the northbound train finally emerged from the tunnel, pulling into the station and blocking her view of the other train.

  “It’s buying us seconds! Let’s go!” Prutzmann was straining, but he offered her a hand up. Sam accepted it, and the pair ran for the stairs that led out of the station and up to the street above.

  9

  EAST HOUSTON STREET

  Where the hell are we? Sam looked around quickly, trying to find the street signs and landmarks that would help her orient and know which way to go. They couldn’t go the easy way, which was essentially across the street, and head south through Roosevelt Park. The werewolves would assume that... Hell, there were probably more waiting ahead of them in the park for just that purpose.

  “Where?” Prutzmann asked, looking to her for direction. He was pale, and his face looked drawn, like he was in pain. Sam frowned with concern, but he immediately waved it off. “No time for that, where are we going?” Sam looked around and spotted a pizza box in a nearby garbage can... and it hit her.

  “This way.” Sam took Prutzmann’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction of home. The raced across the Bowery, nearly getting bumped off by a taxi, but they didn’t stop, they didn’t look back. Suddenly, Sam slowed and pulled him to the left. Prutzmann looked up at the street sign...

  Mulberry Street.

  One block... two blocks... the smells of simmering sauces, and cured meats, and wine, and garbage began to fill their noses, nearly blocking other scents out. That could prove dangerous, but Sam knew it would take those werewolves at least a few minutes to sort them out of the crowds and track them this way. Once she and Prutzmann got to Kenmare up ahead...

  “I need a minute,” Prutzmann gasped out, and he slowed up. They were near Grand Street, and he took a moment to limp over to some front s
teps and collapsed on them. Sam watched as he leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands and breathing raggedly once... twice... then he looked up, scenting the air. Sam followed suit and smelled them right away.

  “Kenmare is ahead of us,” Sam began. “We take a left, follow it back to the Bowery. Chrystie Street is beyond that.”

  “We have to move now.” Prutzmann got to his feet and steadied himself. “No matter what happens, you need to get to safety, okay? Get to your apartment, lock yourself in, kill anything that tries to come in.” Sam watched as he took several more breaths, as if to steel himself for the ordeal to come. He took a final deep, cleansing breath, exhaled and nodded. “Let’s go!”

  Prutzmann grabbed her hand again, and they were off. The pause seemed to have helped, and Prutzmann ran with a renewed strength. Even his grip on her hand felt stronger, and Sam indulged in a moment of relief, that maybe they would both get their safely and wouldn’t have to fight... They turned on to Kenmare racing toward the Bowery, but Sam could smell them as she breathed... they were close... and there were more of them than before...

  Suddenly, Prutzmann made a quick turn and they ran into an alley. Sam could see the traffic of the Bowery up ahead, but suddenly Prutzmann slowed to a stop.

  “I’ve been here before,” Prutzmann said in a whisper, almost to himself, though Sam wondered if it was more about not being able to speak than trying to be quiet. Prutzmann continued: “Last fall... back when giving spiked heroin to junkies was the order of the day... seems so long ago...” Prutzmann trailed off, and Sam followed his gaze.

  Ahead of them was the Euro-wolf from the station. He cocked his head as he looked at them, his shaded eyes trailing over them, taking in their appearance and condition in seconds. His mouth twitched into a smile, and he shook his head as he looked at Prutzmann.