by Justin Sloan
“The point is, none of us are guiltless these days,” he explained. “And that’s what makes this world so tough to figure out.”
“But us especially. Our past is what makes us capable though, isn’t it?” She turned to him, hopeful. “I mean, we’ve lived the dark path, so we know where it can lead and what it means to escape. What it means to be honorable.”
“We have to guide them,” he agreed, nodding. He reached a hand almost into the sunlight, and she took it. Giving it a squeeze, she leaned in and kissed him, then said, “Don’t wait up.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be in my coffin.”
She laughed at that, glad to have a reason to push away the negativity. Vampires didn’t really sleep in coffins—or at least she didn’t think so.
Heading outside, she ducked under the streaming flag she had hung outside the door. It was blowing so hard in the wind that it nearly whipped her face. Good thing she had those Were reflexes.
She pulled the cloth back, tucking it into the scrunchie she had wrapped around the pole to hold the flag down on windy days, then paused, looking at the symbol on it: a crown on a skull. It had been the Prince’s symbol and was his flag, given to them once he was out of the picture to indicate who was in charge.
It didn’t sit right with her though, associating herself with that monster. If they were going to bring change to this place, the imagery needed to be fresh. With a growl she tore the flag off the pole, tucked it into the pocket of her long pirate jacket, and made her way down the steps.
The house wasn’t large, but it had been built in the days before the great collapse. Not everyone here enjoyed such luxury; many lived in plywood shacks, and some of the really drugged-out ones preferred the streets. At least it was warm enough nowadays.
A crowd was already gathering by the square, the same area where Valerie had, just days before, stood up for a man and rescued his wife’s corpse. Damn, this place had its depressing side. Cammie hoped to the gods or whatever was out there that the bastards who had done that to the poor man had left with the Prince and were now bleeding out on the side of a road somewhere.
There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Valerie had dealt with the Prince and his followers. What worried her was Valerie’s eagerness to trust people; to believe they could start over.
It had certainly worked in Cammie’s favor, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be standing next to a bunch of converted pirates and hoping they would have her back in a fight.
Several of the women glared at her as she approached, but then she noticed a pointed look from one of them accompanied by a quick glance upward. A stutter-step later Cammie gave her a slight nod of appreciation before she turned to sniff.
Yup, there was someone up there. By the smell of it, someone who hadn’t bathed in years. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for the Were sense of smell for possibly saving her life or annoyed at it for gifting her with that horrible stench.
Perking her ears, she waited, focusing on that spot above and drowning out the chatter ahead, then heard movement.
She moved first, sidestepping into the cover of a nearby shack, then drew her pistol and shot.
The man fell, landed head-first, and didn’t move again.
Cammie shook her head, then turned to see everyone silent and staring at her.
“This keeps up, how many of you will be left?” she demanded, marching into their midst.
“Most of us, I’d imagine,” a young man with a red mustache told her. “Seeing as most of us mean you no harm.”
Her heart was thumping and she had wanted an excuse to snap at someone, but this man surprised her. Either he was genuine and she’d need him close by so that he could keep an eye out for her, or he was full of it and she’d need him close by for her to keep an eye on.
“And you are?” she asked.
“William,” he replied, then gestured to three men and two women behind him. “This is my crew. Every one of us is loyal to the teeth. We’ve been talking around here, speaking with the others, you know. As I said, most have your back. You don’t take shit, but you don’t give it out unwarranted neither.”
She nodded, liking this man more by the second. “We’re changing this place, and I see a role for you in the new system.”
William’s eyes narrowed, but he tilted his head and asked, “Changing it how?”
“For starters,” she turned to the rest of the crowd, another thirty folks or so, she guessed, “we’re not pirates anymore, though you’ve heard that before. Privateers, maybe? That works. From now on, I want you to think of this community as Valerie’s Navy.”
“You’re the leader here,” William confirmed. “We follow you.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that, but here’s the truth: I follow Valerie, so anything you do for me, you do for her.”
William glanced at his companions, then nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’m your captain and this whole island is a boat. We need to steer this boat in the right direction, so I’m going to need your help.”
“You’re still unproven,” a woman from the other side of the square called. She was short, long hair in a bun, and looked to be in her late forties. “I’ve got no problem following a new captain if I know there’s treasure on the other side.”
Cammie nodded. She got this woman. “You want treasure? How about a life without violence? No more bloodshed, no more friends and loved ones dying. That’s what we’re bringing about down in New York, and that’s what we’ll bring here. But it takes work.”
“Peace?” The woman scoffed. “I talk of treasure and you offer us peace?”
Cammie glanced around, noticing general agreement with the woman from all but William and his crew, who seemed to be amused by the discussion.
“How about this?” Cammie offered, stepping toward her. “Would you say there are other pirates out there? Other bandits, cutthroats, murderers?”
The woman laughed. “Of course.”
“And if we were to become the force that takes them down? A police force, perhaps, that stops them, and if we can’t find who their loot belongs to, we take it for our treasure?”
She could see the woman’s mind working, her smile forming. “You mean we get treasure and we get to look at our kids with pride in our eyes?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Sold.” The woman took two long strides over and shook Cammie’s hand. “The name’s Platea, and I’m with you on one condition. You keep killing assholes like him when warranted.” She motioned to the dead man on the street, the one Cammie had just shot.
But Cammie’s eyes moved to the man glaring at her, the one tied to a beam of wood the community had erected in the center of the square.
“You mean like this man?” she asked Platea.
“Guess whose daughter’s room the bastard was trying to enter?” Platea snarled, turning her gaze to the man as her eyes glazed with hatred. “Guess whose daughter he would have had his way with if a certain someone named Platea hadn’t torn him from there and dragged him into the street?”
“That’s your story, bitch,” the man growled, spitting at her feet.
“And what’s yours?” Cammie asked.
Platea opened her mouth, but Cammie held up a hand. “Let him speak.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd, giving Cammie the feeling that trials hadn’t really been all that common under the Prince. It had likely been more of an “accuse and then kill” situation. Probably the one who annoyed the Prince more was the one who got killed. Well, not anymore.
The man looked doubtful, then sneered. “Way it happened was the girl told me she was going to pay me, in the market. Bought a sword, and when I asked what sort of payment she meant…well, let’s just say the look she gave me was unmistakable. Imagine my surprise when I followed her around the corner and she was gone. So yes, I naturally came to collect my payment.”
Cammie cocked her head, licked her lips, and laughed. “You mean you gave her
the sword without any actual verbal contract for…the sexual favors you were owed, and then thought you’d force yourself on her to collect? Did I really just hear you right?”
The man’s color drained at the look she was giving him, but he clenched his jaw. “I required payment.”
Cammie rubbed her temples, considering this. It was almost too easy. There was the fact that he had clearly meant to rape this woman’s daughter, though he had been stopped before succeeding. Then again, if he was going to do it once, he had likely done it before and would do it again.
And he seemed like the type who would be proud of it.
“Sir,” she said, mockingly, “let me ask you this. How many women, no, girls, have you…collected payment from?”
He rolled his eyes. “I get what’s mine, and this town knows it. You want to fuck with me, I fuck with you. That’s right. Way I see it, you owe me for wasting my–”
Blood poured from his neck and Cammie, usually cavalier about sex and related things, stood over him with her knife in one hand and his hair in the other. He jerked, horrified eyes staring at her, and then went limp.
She dropped his head and it landed chin on his chest, then she turned to the crowd.
Some of their jaws hung open, but William just looked impressed. Platea smiled smugly.
“He got his trial,” Cammie declared, turning to look each of them in the eye. “Would Valerie have handled it differently? Maybe. Would the Queen Bitch? I wish I knew, but I’ll tell you one thing. Someone tries something like that, then brags about it and threatens me? Not going to fly on my ship. Not while I’m captain.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” William affirmed, and the rest of the crowd murmured its agreement.
“Great.” Cammie wiped her blade on the dead man’s clothes, then motioned to him and then the other body. “If everyone stays in line, this will not be a normal occurrence. I promise you that. Now, do we have any volunteers to clean up this mess?”
William only needed to look at his men before the three of them stepped forward and got to work. William approached her as Cammie was about to leave, one of the women he’d brought with him close behind.
“Allow me to introduce Brae,” he said. “She’s the most skilled sailor I’ve ever met. When do we mean to sail?”
“Sail?” Cammie asked, distractedly.
“You made some promises.”
“Ah, yes.” Cammie glanced back, noticing Platea talking with someone who must’ve been her daughter and saw the way the girl, no more than sixteen, was looking at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was something that girl needed to tell her. “If you’ll excuse me. Just ready the boats and ensure they’re in top shape, but…not yet.”
“As you wish.” The two walked off.
When Cammie turned around from watching them go, Platea was there with her daughter.
“Clara has something to say.” Platea turned to her daughter, who was waiting. “Go on, spit it out.”
The girl, thin but with more muscle tone than Cammie would have thought when she first saw her, seemed shy at first. After a moment, however, it became clear that she was looking down and clenching her jaw out of some unexpected emotion. Rage?
“What’s wrong, girl?” Cammie asked, not one to take this sort of behavior lightly.
“I should’ve been the one to slit his throat,” Clara stated. “After doing much worse, I assure you.”
“Tell her what you told me, and stop your whining,” her mother ordered, whapping her a good one across the back. Clara glared, but didn’t strike back or say anything to the woman.
“It might be better if we spoke in private.” Clara’s eyes darted to the other men and women, still loitering in the square or slowly making their way out.
“The gist, please,” Cammie requested. “Then I’ll decide if that’s necessary.”
“There was an attempted mutiny in Old Manhattan recently,” Clara replied.
“New York now,” Cammie muttered, then shook her head. “Wait, what? How would you know that?”
Clara leaned in now, voice quieter. “I was part of a group that served, er, your kind. I was part of it, but…”
“Go on,” her mother hissed.
“I’m here to seek your pardon. To serve you now.”
Cammie blinked, caught totally off guard by all this, and then nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right about needing to discuss this in private. Come on.” She nodded for them to follow, and the three made their way back to the house. Whatever this was, she needed to know what had happened in New York, and she needed to know what would happen next.
CHAPTER THREE
New York
Sandra leaned against the wall of Colonel Donnoly’s office, a place she had begun to associate with stress and heartache. How many members of their new army had they lost because they hadn’t seen Esmerelda and Presley’s treachery coming? They had dipped their hands into the Colonel’s cookie jar, and he had let them take every last crumb.
Yet somehow he sat at the front of the room, still in charge.
Diego sat beside Garcia and gave Sandra a look that said he knew what was going on in her mind. The conversation had come up several times over the last few days, and he had insisted that it couldn’t be changed, that to throw out Donnoly now would be too upsetting to the system. Instead they would treat him like a puppet and be sure everyone was focused now, headed the right direction.
Also present were Felix, who represented the Weres, and Brad, who had quickly proven himself and now stood for the vampires.
“Our first strike team is ready,” Brad was saying. “Each group is represented in both squads, and I’ve appointed the squad leaders personally.”
“You’ve lead a raid of this magnitude?” Donnoly asked skeptically, then adjusted himself in his seat with an uncomfortable look.
“I’ve been part of them,” Brad replied, glaring.
“And I’ve seen what the boy’s capable of,” Garcia offered. “I vouch for him.”
Brad turned his glare on Garcia. “Thanks, but I’m not a boy.”
“Hey, whether you’ve got the banana or the taco, I vouch for your military prowess, okay?”
Diego chuckled and Sandra rolled her eyes as he, Garcia, and Felix gave each other a slight nod—what the three had taken to calling a mental high-five. Ever since working together to help save the city, they had become best buds. Almost inseparable, much to her annoyance.
“I meant I’m a man, not a boy,” Brad stated, and let his fangs show with a growl.
“A man knows when threats are necessary and when they’re just plain stupid,” Garcia replied, staring him down. “I was saying that I support you. Take the compliment or not, but either way, back the fuck up.”
Now it was Sandra’s turn to laugh. When Donnoly and Brad both turned to her, she shrugged. “Hey, he has a point, right?”
Donnoly nodded. “He had your back, Brad. And you’re being a bit of a dick.”
Even Brad laughed now, not used to Donnoly talking like that. “Fine, sorry. I’ve been a bit worked up.”
“Hey, we all have.” Donnoly held his hands out as if revealing he had nothing up his sleeves. “I’m not going to deny what happened. Come on, I let my…banana, is that what you said, Sergeant?” At a nod from Garcia, he continued, “I let my banana be my guide, you know. Two beautiful women, and I fell apart in their hands. You should all kick me out on the street, but,” he held his hands up again, as if pushing a wall back this time, “here’s the thing, you really shouldn’t. You don’t want to, and I don’t want to go. Have I learned my lesson?”
He adjusted himself again in his seat as if something was itching, then seemed to lose his train of thought.
“Have you?” Sandra asked, trying not to smirk.
“Yes, of course I’ve learned my lesson,” he finished, irritably. “The point is, we need to pull ourselves together. Stand united.”
“Behind you?” Felix asked, his expres
sion failing to hide what he thought of that idea. He ignored the look from Sandra as he continued. “There aren’t many who doubt this whole mess was due to incompetence on your part.”
Donnoly nodded and considered the large Were. “When things went sour here… The last time, I mean. Well, one of the many times. There was a reason the others stood behind me. Am I a military leader like Sergeant Garcia here? No. Am I the most strategic? I’m not. But I’m not corrupt, and now I’ve learned a very tough lesson about letting those around me get too close. I’d say I have taken in this lesson better than any of you, and in spite of the heavy bag of shame that has slammed down over me, I am willing to continue to serve the people of New York. But only with you all, the experts, at my side. If you want me gone, just say the word.”
Felix thought about what the man had said, then leaned back, eyes moving to each person around the table. When they at last came to rest on Sandra, he nodded.
“We move forward as is,” Sandra assured him. “And let me tell you what a relief it is for that to be out of the way. If there’s one thing we can’t spend time on, it’s infighting. Squabbling and bickering will get us nowhere.”
“Agreed,” several muttered around the table.
“We strike back, and we strike with a vengeance,” Donnoly declared, fist smacking the table in a show of determination that made Sandra want to laugh. But no, she was playing the supportive role, and he was right—his inability to hold himself together in the face of two beautiful women had been a tough lesson. She was going to trust that he had learned it and was back to his old self.
Although… She might send a test his way at some point. The idea amused her, and as far as she knew it was necessary. Something to keep in her back pocket, if nothing else.
“We’ll brief the teams come morning,” Garcia stated as he stood. “Send out the soldiers first to see what we’re dealing with, then have the vamps and Weres ready to do the dirty work.”
