Hell's Warrior

by Jaye Roycraft

  He was doyen, and he possessed more individual and collective strength than any mortal or vampire in the city. Otto Hammer was no god, no true immortal. He could die the true death as easily as any suckling, and he would. Cade stepped among the debris and bent to pick up a china figurine. It was a horse, one of Charlet’s favorites, and the head and legs had snapped off. Cade stared at the broken piece.

  Hammer never went anywhere without at least half a dozen bodyguards, but it didn’t matter. Cade had no objective now save one—to see Hammer like the horse he held. It would be his work and pleasure until it was done, and he sealed the vow of vengeance with an oath as he crushed the horse in his fist. Hammer was a dead man. You will be avenged, my love.

  CADE DID SOMETHING few immortals ever had to do—he walked the tightrope of time. He didn’t want to rush his revenge. All the details needed to be thought out. Hammer had to be observed. Even the weather needed to be just right. But neither did he want to give Hammer the gift of timeless freedom. Hammer already had a growing following, and if the rumors were true, an expectation that he would soon take the title of doyen. Whispers in the nighttime shadows of the Levee confirmed that Hammer boasted of his victory over Cade. Lies always traveled quicker than truths, and this particular gossip was spreading with the speed of a plague. Cade couldn’t afford to let the death of his reputation reach beyond the Levee.

  Cade moved out of his mansion and effectively disappeared, putting a stop to his business pursuits and nightly club visits. If his foe believed him beaten and broken, so much the better. He bided his time and planned, as coolly as if he were a general strategizing for a battle, and he felt Charlet with him the whole time. She sat in his mind’s eye constantly, never speaking, but always watching him. That didn’t stop him from talking to her. What do you think of my campaign, my love? Hers had been a giving spirit. Her heart had bled for every downhearted and hapless soul she’d ever met. Does your heart bleed for me now? Do you give me your blessing? She gave no answer, but he doubted it. He wondered what she thought of Stormbird, the destroyer of men, of the warrior he’d always been. Did she censure him now when he ran his tongue over the points of his fangs in anticipation of Hammer’s death? He feared she did. He felt as naked before her now as he’d ever felt in bed with her. He had no secrets from her now, no means to hide the dark and violent side he’d always shielded her from. Still, the thought that she would disapprove of him did nothing to stall his plans. He forged ahead, bearing the weight of her constant presence, for each time he felt her reproach drag him back, he felt the pain of her death spur him on.

  The chosen night came. It was mid-April, and a rare stretch of warm temperatures and dry skies had the mortals on heightened alert for the city’s nemesis—fire. But Cade knew that Hammer, buried deep within the Jade Palace and deeper still in some whore, worried not in the least about the possibility of disaster.

  Cade bore down on the guard at the back door of the Palace like some winged avenger, wringing his neck and severing his head with Gravedigger. Cade opened the door, tossed in a lantern filled with kerosene, then locked the door with the guard’s key. The Jade Palace, purchased by Hammer as a memorial to Cade’s defeat, or so Cade had heard, had been fortified like a citadel, but Cade didn’t want in. He merely wanted to prevent its inhabitants from escaping.

  Fire was one of his weapons of choice, for he’d found that when his own strength wasn’t enough to get a job done, unleashing nature did the trick. When he’d wanted the French off Starved Rock, he’d forced his people to burn Fort St. Louis. He’d inhaled the black smoke and rejoiced. When the Americans had betrayed his red brothers at Fort Dearborn, he’d watched the flames devour the fort, and the sight had sated, at least for a moment, the growing hunger deep within him. Only once, when the Great Chicago Fire had leveled much of the city, had fire worked against him. But that had been an aberration, started in Mrs. O’Leary’s barn and blamed on a cow.

  Tonight was no aberration, but the execution of a plan laid out with the perfection of a fine meal, course by course. Chicago had an excellent fire department and modern steamers, but Cade knew it would take Fire Engine No. 25, the Ulysses S. Grant, and its crew at least fifteen minutes to don their rubber coats, hitch the horses to the engine, and drive the nine blocks from the engine house to the Jade Palace. A week ago he’d set fire to an opium den down the block. He’d done it to test the fire engine’s response time, but he’d had a personal motive as well. It wasn’t that he took joy in destroying a den of iniquity. He didn’t give a damn about the mortals foolish enough to patronize such rat holes, but the property had belonged to Hammer, and the loss of income to his enemy pleased Cade.

  He smiled as he gazed at the windows Hammer’s men had bricked up upon purchase of the Jade Palace, but the screams from behind the walls only whetted Cade’s appetite for the final course. After a few minutes he unlocked the door and waited just inside the front entrance, out of the sight of the growing crowd on the street. He allowed the mortals in the Palace to escape, but every vampire fleeing the flames was met by Gravedigger and a determination not to let any of those who’d raped Charlet survive. He recognized several who’d been in the room when she’d been killed, and these he beheaded with relish.

  Acrid smoke poured through the doorway along with the bodies, and Cade reveled in it. He sucked mouthfuls of it into his lungs as if it were blood to feed on, and he opened all his senses to the feast around him. Consumed wood popped like gunfire, and devoured furniture and finery cackled and keened like a clutch of old hags mad at the world.

  Out of the smoke Hammer appeared at last. His clothes and skin were already blackened by flames and soot, but his eyes were as red as when he’d killed Charlet. Cade greeted Hammer by plunging Gravedigger into his heart.

  “You’re dead already, Hammer. My only regret is that I can’t make you suffer longer.”

  The clanging of the Ulysses S. Grant vied with the sounds of the fire and the screams of those around him, and Cade knew he had scant moments left.

  Hammer clawed at Cade and at the coffin-shaped handle protruding from his chest. “You bastard! She was but a mortal.” He spit blood into Cade’s face. “Fodder! You would destroy us for her?”

  Cade clenched his jaw so tightly he feared he’d break his fangs, and he worked the knife as hard as he could, carving through muscle and bone. Hammer shrieked, and Cade felt the ruined flesh quiver in surrender to the metal. But there was one more thing to do before Hammer died the true death. Cade pulled the blade from its bloody sheath, sliced open Hammer’s trousers, and cut off Hammer’s prick as one would pare an eye from a potato. Cade took the offending member and stuffed it into Hammer’s mouth, effectively stifling the screams, then resumed his extraction of Hammer’s heart. The body slumped to the ground, and the bells on the fire engine tolled in a desperate rhythm. There were only seconds left. He was almost done.

  He scooped the heart from Hammer’s chest and held the severed organ in his hand. It was cold and black, as lifeless as its host. Cade hurled it into the flames, and the hiss as it was consumed was just deserts, both his and Hammer’s.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  CADE AWOKE THE following evening with death on his mind. The Grim Reaper wasn’t the kind of bed partner he cared for, and already he missed Red. As he rose and pulled on black trousers, he wondered if this was how it would be from now on, or if finding Deborah’s and Red’s killers would bring a measure of closure to an existence that by nature lacked such sensibilities.

  He flexed his muscles, turning his mind to more practical matters. An examination of his arms and torso showed that his healing was complete, and he felt no physical pain. His body was strong. All that remained was the continued honing of his resolve.

  Thor was waiting for him in the living room. He lounged on the sofa, wearing an impassive look on his face that was betrayed only by blue eyes that followed Cade with int
erest. The television was on, but the sound was turned low.

  “What news, brother?” Cade asked softly.

  Thor glanced at the TV, but his gaze was quickly back on Cade, as if he was afraid to miss a clue as to what was on Cade’s mind. “You and the mayor’s murder are still the top story. Phryne isn’t getting much air time. I get the feeling the media is downplaying her death on purpose. They know it’s not smart to rile a nest of hornets. Or vampires.”

  Cade wasn’t sure if a city full of fearful humans was necessarily a good thing. A little fear, yes. A lot, well, perhaps not. “Any word on who’ll be running in the special election?”

  Thor shrugged. “Who won’t be running?”

  Cade didn’t like hearing a question to his question, but he kept his cool. “Tell me what you’ve learned about the three men I told you to check on.”

  “Kurt Koslik, Benno Stammler, and Ian Doyle are all big cogs in the Machine. They’re the big machers. All of them have a reputation for doing whatever it takes to get ahead. Any one of them would sell out his mother. Any one of them could be behind the mayor’s murder.”

  That much Cade already knew. “Give me some specifics.”

  Thor pushed a file folder across the low table in front of the sofa. “Well, all three rose to power during the political chaos that followed Hell. At first glance, Kurt Koslik might seem like the weakest of the three, but don’t underestimate him. He’s the Chairman of the Chicago Committee on Urban Opportunity.” Thor cocked his head. “Before Hell, it was a relatively minor committee, established solely for the purpose of funneling federal dollars to the poor. After the peace treaty was signed, the federal government granted Chicago one thousand dollars for every vamp that complied with the identification procedures mandated by the Night Person Registration Act.”

  Cade knew that. Hell, he’d pushed for the federal aid. “I remember.”

  “Well, Koslik was put in charge of channeling that money down to its intended recipients. He came off like a hero to everybody. Liberals, sucklings, and anyone else naïve enough to believe that that money was actually used to help us, thought he was some sort of champion of the downtrodden and defeated. Koslik’s cronies in city hall knew better. Any vamp with a brain knew better.”

  Cade nodded. He’d been aware of the federal aid money and also the fact that little of it actually reached the streets, but there’d been little he could do to correct the problem. “Deborah used to mention him, and with a good deal of distaste. Koslik didn’t have her fooled either. She knew as well as I did that Koslik was diverting most of the aid money, but there wasn’t anything she could do. Koslik was a hero to too many, as you say. If she’d tried removing him, the backlash would have been enormous.” Better to admit the failure as Deborah’s than his.

  Thor stared at him for a moment before continuing, as if he could read Cade’s thoughts. “Koslik is smart. And he’s mercurial. He can wear whatever mask suits him.”

  Cade picked up the file and opened it. A photo of Kurt Koslik showed a man in his early fifties with dark hair and pale eyes that mirrored the gray hair at his temples. “Go on.”

  “Benno Stammler is Chairman of the Finance Committee. Once again, money. He who holds the purse strings wields the power. He also has a reputation for delivering his wards at election time. His constituents almost always vote ninety percent in favor of the party candidates. It’s hard to argue with influence like that.”

  “Deborah hadn’t liked him much either.”

  A corner of Thor’s mouth curled. “Deborah didn’t much like anyone, did she?”

  Cade smiled. “No. She hated pretense. Smilers, she called them. People whose smiles were only for show. I think that’s why she liked me. She told me once that my desires, base as they are, were at least honest.” It struck him for the first time that both Deborah and Red had told him that they felt him more honest than the humans they’d known.

  Thor erupted in laughter. “Honest? She didn’t know the real you, did she?”

  Cade’s anger surged with equal passion. He didn’t like being laughed at. Just as quickly, though, he allowed his blood to cool. Thor was right. By no stretch of the imagination could he characterize himself as being an honest soul. It was simply a sad byline to two troubled lives that such beautiful women believed a vampire to be the most honest person they’d ever met. No, Deborah hadn’t really known him. He’d been a means to an end for her, and she’d been the same for him. A very pleasant means, but a means just the same. He couldn’t fault Thor for speaking the truth. He smiled, showing his fangs just a little. “No. Her insight, as keen as it was, went no deeper than I wanted it to.”

  Thor seemed to have recovered nicely from his mind whipping of the night before. Not only did Thor see the truth, but he had the guts to confront Cade with it. Perhaps Thor could be a true brother in the upcoming battle after all.

  Thor pushed another file toward Cade. “Ian Doyle. The worst of the lot. His nickname, in case you haven’t heard it, is the Machine Gun. He’s Chairman of the Police Committee. If the CPD Goon Squad is back in business, you can bet Doyle’s behind it.”

  Cade nodded and flipped through the files, studying the photos. They were ugly bastards, all of them. Stammler had the rosy, pocky nose of a lush, and red-haired Doyle looked like he’d sat in the sun too long. His skin had an uneven pink coloring, and his eyes were so squinted Cade couldn’t see their color. In his two centuries in this city, with the exception perhaps of Deborah, he’d never seen an elected official who wouldn’t look right at home in a circus sideshow. The stereotype of the baby-kissing-boy-next-door politician with the perfect smile and even more perfect hair didn’t exist in his city. Still, he had a craving for each of them, as unappetizing as they looked. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the fleshy necks behind those too-tight collars.

  He raised his gaze to Thor. “What about Sol?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I want to see Nate Burnham again. Tonight. I want his reaction to what happened last night after our meeting.”

  Thor raised a brow. “If you want to know if he’s being straight with you, why don’t you just mind-fuck him like you did me yesterday?”

  Cade smiled. “Perhaps I will.” He centered his gaze on Thor’s head, then allowed it to crawl down his body. No, the white T-shirt and blue jeans wouldn’t do. Neither would the long hair. He couldn’t look like Thor, God of Thunder tonight. He couldn’t look like any kind of immortal. The lion mane would have to go. “You’re going with me. Cut your hair and change into black.”

  They’d have to be able to disappear tonight, if not into the night itself, then into the mortal world.

  TWO HOURS LATER Cade stood on the roof of a three-flat in Lincoln Park to wait for Nate Burnham. He took a deep breath and let the mild nighttime breeze wash over his skin and ripple the strands of hair that fell over his face. He was home. The three-flat was only four blocks from Noctule, in the heart of the neighborhood he’d claimed as his own decades ago. It was a risk being here, for he assumed the police had numerous patrols in the area, including unmarked squads, but it was also an advantage. Both he and Thor knew these streets better than any others in the city.

  The rooftop had been his idea, sparked by the memories of Deborah that had intruded so easily into his thoughts during the discussion of the mayoral candidates. He didn’t know if Nate had anything to do with his being tailed yesterday from Midnight Oil, but he wasn’t going to take the chance of being tailed again. The Lincoln Park rooftops would provide a unique escape route.

  A garden had been created on this roof, not as elaborate as the one atop City Hall, but large enough to trigger more memories of Deborah. He remembered the last night he’d seen her, when he’d undressed her under the hawthorn tree and kissed her. The moonlight had strangely made her look old instead of young that night, and he wondered
now if that had been a foreshadowing of her death. A chill descended his spine, and he feared Charlet had a new sister to join her in haunting him.

  He drew another deep breath, and the fragrance of green life mingled with the faint odor of old blood. He knew this was a popular meeting place for vamps and their prey. It was becoming more and more common to bring prey to a roof to feed, as fences and gates in recent years had greatly reduced the number of feeding holes on the ground. He’d left Thor downstairs as a watchdog, both to keep an eye out for Nate and to turn away any hunters wishing to use the roof for their pleasure.

  Thor hadn’t been any happier about cutting his hair than Cade had been when Red had insisted on lopping his off, but in the end Thor had acknowledged the necessity of it. Thor was now wanted along with Cade, and Thor’s trademark blond mane was as much a fixture in the neighborhood as Cade’s black hair had been. They were both still recognizable to anyone who took a second look at them, but it was better than no disguise at all.

  He heard footsteps on the stairs and drew Gravedigger, even as he caught the scent of both vampire and human. There was no such thing anymore as too much caution, and even when the door opened and Thor and Nate stepped onto the roof, he kept the knife close. He opened his mouth to speak when a third person joined him, and his words died in his throat.

  It was a female, and she was stunning. It wasn’t her beauty but her presence, something both Deborah and Red had possessed. His eyes took a rapid inventory of her assets, beginning with sleek, dark hair barely tamed by a ponytail, equally dark eyes, and a mouth so full it curved in a perpetual pout. By the time he got to her tight tank top and long legs, he already felt the urge to conquer this woman in every respect of the word.