by John Conroe
“Yeah, the company webpage has a list of officers. Apparently they make anyone a VP,” I said. “I figure a summer of this and I can get the key to the Exec washroom.”
“Oh, I think they’ll give it to you sooner… the last bathroom attendant retired. You’re a shoo-in,” she said, slipping away to check in with her boss.
“She got the better of you with that one, mate,” Grace noted.
“Yeah, that’s okay. She’s not usually that outgoing,” I said, looking over at Aleesha, who was still wide-eyed and frozen.
“So you hang out with an Irish witch? I thought your girlfriend was a soldier?” Grace asked.
“Ex. Ex-girlfriend, and Caeco’s probably as much assassin as soldier. Ryanne, on the other hand, is a friend and knows a lot about my relatives in Ireland.”
“She the reason your bloody killer is your ex?” Grace asked.
“Ah, well, not that I want to talk about it, but we’re exes because we’re both only eighteen and we each have too much going on,” I said.
“You have computers to bewitch and she has what? People to kill?” Jodi interjected.
I bit into some cheddar with the fruity stuff on top and a dab of honey, letting the flavors overwhelm me before I answered. “Only if the FBI is killing people this summer. This is really good,” I said.
Chris leaned over. “We’re going to an off-site meeting after dinner. You’re coming along—as an observer—so you’ll want to get ready when you’re done eating,” he said to me.
“How do I dress?” I asked.
“You’ll find several sets of the security team’s uniform pants in your room. Those would be a good idea,” he said, turning back to Tanya, Katrina, and Darion.
“What? No bag of fruit?” Grace asked. I frowned and she actually blushed. “No suit, I mean. You’re not wearing your suit?”
“No,” I said, sadness in my voice. “It was ruined when I fixed the elevators to keep interns from falling out of the sky.”
“Oh you’re an arsey one, ain’t ya?” Grace said.
“It’s hard to answer when I don’t know what you’re asking,” I said, even though I had a pretty good idea.
“You’re a wiseass,” Aleesha said, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be afraid of me.
“Oh,” I said. “That’s true. It pretty much defines me.”
“No. Dangerous wiseass defines you,” Katrina threw in on her way past us. “And that’s bloody fair dinkum.”
She left with casual grace and when I turned to look at the girls, they were all staring at me. Grace looked thoughtful, Jodi confused, and Aleesha still scared, but slightly bemused.
Chapter 11 - Chris
The meet was in Brooklyn—Brighton Bay actually. In a nightclub—a loud, fist-pumping, light-flashing, drunk-dancing nightclub. The night sky outside was cloudy and rain-filled; inside the building was a riotous storm of multicolored strobe lights and deep bass. With lots of Russian being spoken everywhere around me. For the ten thousandth time, I wished I was bilingual, or better yet, trilingual. Tanya speaks at least seven languages. I struggle with one.
Nika, Arkady, Tanya, and Lydia all speak Russian fluently. Stacia and Declan were pretty much in my boat, though.
The dark-eyed hostess had turned, looking for immediate assistance when we walked in, but her manager or boss or whatever was already striding across the floor of the club to meet us. He spoke rapidly and respectfully to Tanya in Russian, then led us through the gyrating crowd to the back corner of the club. The men seated in a circular lounge area came to attention at the sight of my vampire arriving before them, although the sight of giant Arkady standing to her left no doubt caught their attention as well.
Around us, I could feel men standing up from other booths—foot soldiers realizing a gigantic threat had suddenly appeared in their midst. Then they noticed me.
It used to be that I could stay under the radar for these kinds of things, the world-class beauty by my side taking all the attention. But the digital stream of last year’s events had forever ruined my ability to hide.
Now feet shuffled and bodies angled as they realigned their priorities. Eyes locked onto me, expressions changing from the respectful yet confident way they had looked at Tanya to a strange combination of anxiety, fear, and, I’m uncomfortable to say, not a little awe.
“God’s Hammer has come among them—simultaneously an auspicious and dangerous moment for them,” Nika whispered into my ear. “The awe is real, but these are not innocent men, and having God’s Warrior in their midst is… mildly terrifying for them.”
“They don’t know whether to shit or sing a hymn,” Lydia added.
“My uncle has a saying that he uses with his cop friends. I don’t think he knows I ever heard it. They don’t know whether to fight, fuck, or go for their guns,” Stacia said. She shrugged at the look that Lydia gave her. “I heard lots of things I wasn’t supposed to. Big ears.”
Declan, who had his poker face on, cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow. “I gotta remember that one for a certain alpha asshole back at Arcane,” he said.
Tanya turned and gave us all a look of exasperation. We settled down. Our hosts looked on curiously.
“Sergei will take us before the Avtorityet—the local boss,” Tanya said. Sergei smiled at her, letting it slide across the other ladies, becoming a frown when it crossed Arkady and fading into blankness at myself. Declan was ignored—the way I used to be. Sergei turned and started walking to a door in the back wall, the foot soldiers all moving to create almost a corridor of muscle, all wearing their most surly expressions. Grim was not impressed. How long would they last if one pulled a gun or knife? There were seventeen of them. Grim’s estimate was six seconds, but that was on our own. With Tanya in link… maybe three seconds.
“Seventeen. My best is like thirty-eight at once,” Declan said to me quietly.
“What?” I asked.
“There are seventeen bodyguards. I could handle them if it got real,” he said in a whisper.
I gave him a look.
“Oh, I know you could or probably anyone in the group could, too. I was just letting you know that I wouldn’t be helpless or useless,” he said.
“Never thought you would be. But what would you do?” I asked, curious.
“Burn out their brainstems.”
“In what order?” I asked.
“All at once. That’s what I meant by thirty-eight. I’ve lit thirty-eight candles at once.”
“Big difference between candles and brainstems,” Lydia chimed in quietly.
“No, not really. The fatty deposits of the brain are highly flammable,” he said.
“How the hell do you know that?” Lydia asked.
“AP Bio. Ah, and Sorrow says that brains burn like a torch at the right temperature,” he admitted.
“That’s not creepy or anything,” Lydia muttered.
“Yeah, try living with it in your head,” Declan said.
“So you’re claiming to have something in your head?” Lydia quipped.
“Lydia, we’ve talked about this several times before, but you are old and dementia can be a real problem among the elderly,” Declan replied smoothly. The kid seemed to have found his way into Lydia’s crosshairs.
“Quiet, you two. No talking when we meet the Avtorityet,” Tanya said to them, giving me a wink as she turned back around.
“Glad you’re war gaming, Declan, but let’s not pull any triggers yet, ‘kay?” I asked him. Wouldn’t want one of the Bravta’s street soldiers flashing his gun our way out of bravado and having our intern burn the whole lot of them up from the inside out. Grim noted that Declan’s approach would kill them all in just one second, beating our own best estimate quite handily. I told Grim to shut up.
The rest of the short walk was in silence as we passed into a hallway, then into a large supply room stacked with boxes of liquor along with cases and kegs of beer. Grim stayed busy sensing and adjusting to threats along the w
ay.
Along the back wall of the storage room was a small, well-lit office with several big men hovering around the doorway. A medium-sized man with dark eyes and dark hair frosted slightly with grey at the temples stepped out, measuring us with his gaze. He nodded at Tanya, focused on me for a moment, and then took in the rest of our party. He looked back to Tanya and spoke in English. “Miss Demidova, it is an honor to meet you in person,” he said with only a trace of accent.
“Mr. Polzin, I’ve heard much about you from your predecessor,” Tanya said. He stilled, then nodded as if she’d scored a tiny little point. Tanya had made it a priority to meet the Bratva leadership here in the city. The previous Avtorityet for Brighton Beach had filled her in on his own men, pointing out which ones were likely to supplant him. He didn’t seem to be around anymore.
“And I have stories of you—as well as watch many programs about your exploits,” he said, including me with a glance.
“Word has it that your organization has had losses that would seem to implicate our organization?” she asked.
“So it would seem,” he said, studying us before coming to some decision. “Much of what we do now days is digital. Computers and information to be traded. Some of it has come up missing.”
Nika leaned in close to Tanya and whispered in her ear. “Hacked credit card numbers have disappeared before they could be sold. Money placed into the banking system to be laundered has vanished from controlled accounts. The digital tracks point to us.”
Handy having a powerful telepath around. Nika turned and winked at me.
“And you believe that we have set ourselves against you?” Tanya asked.
“There is evidence that would lead us to that conclusion,” Polzin said, then held up one hand before she could answer him. “Normally, we would never think such a thing, knowing as we do of your… family’s preferred methods for dealing with enemies, but we know you have splintered away from your… Coven, is it?”
“Yes, because their ways are not our ways,” she said, pointing between herself and me. “You know something of my Chosen? You understand his origins as well as my own? Does it strike you that we would choose those kind of actions? And then come before you to discuss it?”
“Ah, a reference to being Fallen. Somehow, that does not add to your credibility. And you no doubt feel invulnerable—that we would not be able to match your abilities,” he said, his tone assured.
I decided to add my two cents. “If you mean the explosives in the walls of this room, you’ll find them to be useless, as is the ammunition in the weapons your men carry. The pressurized tanks of gas in your office—nerve agent, maybe? Anyway, they’re now inert. Oh, and I can feel all the little pieces of Depleted Uranium scattered about. It’s not as effective as before. I’ve learned ways to get around it,” I said. “I smell a small fortune in silver. Maybe some silver nitrate in the sprinkler system overhead? You should probably call the installation company in the morning. I think they will find all the spray heads ruined—almost as if they’ve been welded shut.”
Polzin studied me like I was an unpleasant piece of mail discovered in his mailbox. Maybe a final power company notice or a tax audit invitation from the IRS.
Declan cleared his throat. “Uhmm, Chris?” he asked. I glanced his way to find him toeing the floor—or rather a set of thin, bright orange paint lines that encircled our position, disappearing under cases of booze and three kegs of Stella Artois.
“Whaddya got?” I asked.
“Someone warded this floor. It’s suppose to act like a glue trap for mice, only this one seems to be set on vampires,” Declan said.
“Witchcraft?” I asked.
“Yeah, pretty good stuff, too. Or at least it was,” he said, looking up at Tanya and me with a little smirk. I raised one eyebrow and he nodded. Whatever it was, it had just met its match in an eighteen-year-old kid wearing black combat pants and a Bastille t-shirt.
“You use witchcraft on us?” Tanya asked Polzin, her tone quiet and sounding incredibly dangerous to my ears.
Polzin cleared his throat, eyes locked on the deadly vampire in front of him. “Merely precaution,” he said, accent thickening.
“Ah, precautions. I like precautions. As a precaution, I brought my own warlock. Maybe I should let him burn out this club. Declan?” she called.
“Yes Tanya?” he answered, a three-foot tall column of flame sprouting up from his upturned palm. The nearest guards stepped hurriedly back from the heat that I could feel ten feet away. Didn’t appear to bother Declan, though.
“How fast could you burn this place?” she asked.
“To light it up? Seconds. To take it completely to the ground? Twenty minutes or so. Give or take. The coming storm might slow that down by five or ten minutes,” Declan said.
“You accuse us of stealing what you’ve already stolen. When we meet with you in good faith, you prepare death traps for us. We did not take your data or money, Mr. Polzin, but I am leaning toward taking your lives. You have declared yourselves enemies, no?” Tanya said.
“Nyet!” he said. “No, we are not enemies. The preparations you have noted are merely precautions like keeping a shotgun for home security. The witchcraft your young friend has noted are for possible rogues and renegades, not your people,” he said smoothly, hands out, palms down in a calming gesture. “Old stuff, really.”
Tanya studied him for a moment, letting the tension mount. Then she turned to my intern and nodded. The flame disappeared from his palm, the instant reduction in heat almost shocking.
“The National Security Agency has a computer program. It is extremely advanced, artificially intelligent, and hyper aggressive. It has taken your property and pinned the blame on us in a strategic move designed to remove two threats to the country at once,” she explained.
“It defines you as threat to America?” Polzin asked.
“Some of us,” she replied with a glance in my direction.
“Ahh, asteroid. Yet you saved President Garth from demons, no?” he asked me.
“Yes well, Garth is an asshole, so maybe the program doesn’t think I did the country any favors,” I said.
He laughed. A real, honest laugh. “Maybe you are right. But what can this program do?”
There was a sharp ripping sound near the far door, which I presumed led outside. The steel door crumpled inward and several somethings reared up over the two guards standing closest to it. Both men disappeared in a spray of blood, just as the cinderblock wall behind us burst into concrete dust.
Grim was already moving us, sideways, straight through the opposite wall, those particular cinderblocks suffering a similar fate as my body blasted through them. The rest of the team was right behind me, Stacia pushing Declan ahead of her through the newly made hole. Behind us, I heard men yelling and dying, the attackers killing them with a snick-snick sound like hedge clippers on steroids.
We were in a back parking lot, probably for employees and Russian mafia types, and it was pouring sheets of rain, and it was a trap.
More of the enemy reared up, bodies revealed in a flash of lightning from the storm overhead. Grim offered a detailed analysis of this new threat. Each roughly eight or nine feet long, with a twelve-segment body and metallic mandibles on either end. They were giant robotic centepedes, but the legs of each segment had blades that snickered open two feet to a side. The segments could rotate, in either direction, independent of each other. Combat Cuisinarts, uniquely designed to kill at close range. Grim noted silver, depleted uranium, and steel blades among the arsenal. Designed to kill weres, vamps, and fallen angels.
Our personal link had shifted to combat mode and even as Grim pulled me closer to the nearest metal monster, I could feel Tanya draw her blades and follow.
The blackened hide of the first centipede was coated in depleted uranium, so I reached for my own sword rather than my Glocks. It slid from the pocket universe where I kept it sheathed, its actinic glare lighting up the night.
&
nbsp; DU might hinder my aura, but it is not a good defense against an angelic blade. The first spinning set of choppers was shorn completely off, sharp metal pinging off into the dark. Cross cut, reverse to horizontal, and a powerful overhead slice reduced the robot to pieces. Yet most of the pieces still moved, each trying to attack.
Tanya had chosen to slice the legs from her attacker, the tough tungsten carbide sword blades chopping through the steel of her centipede’s leg blades. Cuts to both ends removed the sharpened mandibles, leaving a heavy un-armed body that still tried to crush her under its weight.
Her blades flickered and the body fell to pieces. Gunfire behind me, the mental image of the battlefield that Grim produces showing me Lydia and Nika blasting at the robotic horrors with handguns, to little effect. Arkady was using carbide swords and trimming legs like his queen.
