by Sky Winters
“Yes,” added Roman. “And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Europeans have arrived at just the time that it seems we’re most at each other’s throats.”
“But what’s so bad about that?” asked Miranda.
The entire table of vampires turned to look at her.
“Does it really matter who runs things here? I mean, isn’t a vampire a vampire?
Those seated at the table exchanged looks, with some smirking, others shaking their heads, and others simply saying nothing and sipping their drinks.
“There’s a reason why we sought to escape the old world,” said Mr. Nowak, speaking in a calm, but chiding voice, the one reserved for a child who just asked an adult an ignorant question. “Centuries of corruption and decadence reduced our former glory to a mere shade of what it once was. Hunter guilds killed hundreds of our kind each year, and rippers- those of us who reverted to an almost feral state- were beginning to appear by the dozen. Moving to a new world, getting a fresh start, wiping away the mistakes of the past was our only hope.”
“And the Old World vampires seek to bring their corrupt ways to our people, to flee the sinking ship of their own design,” added Roman.
Miranda sat back in her chair, her question answered. But she still held suspicions that whatever these vampires were planning would be in the city’s best interests.
“And there is bad news for you, young lady,” said Mr. Nowak, turning to face Miranda. “The Old-Worlders are already using their wealth and power to influence the affairs of the NYPD.”
“I have friends in the NYPD,” said Aron, “money is being exchanged for cooperation, turning blind-eyes to the predatory ways of the Old World. They may feel that you’ve become a danger, which is why they’re trying to pin these killings on you.”
“These murders are part-and-parcel of the old ways,” said Mr. Nowak. “Brutal slayings barely hidden, populations living in fear of monsters that no one will acknowledge nor protect them from. And sacrifices thrown to the wolves in order to maintain the charade.”
“You would be the first of many, should they take over,” said the Italian man.
“Then I’m not going to sit on my ass and let these Old-World assholes take over,” said Miranda. “What’s the plan?”
Mr. Nowak nodded in approval.
“You’re not the only one with powers,” he said. “Nora, Simone, Elizabeth, and Sophia- all have gifts of one kind or another.”
He swept his hand around the table, each of the girls’ faces looking attentive as he said their names.
“You all will be the key to fighting off the Old-Worlders.”
“But they have women like you on their side,” said Roman, looking at Miranda with a glowering gaze.
“That’s correct. At best, we area evenly-matched. But our strategy will be more complicated; it will-“
A low chime cut off Mr. Nowak. The group looked around the expanse of the apartment, all wondering who could ringing the doorbell.
“Expecting more guests?” asked Kieran, standing up.
“No,” said Mr. Nowak, his body tensing beneath his lean-cut suit.
The group remained silent.
Then a banging on the front door sounded.
“NYPD!” shouted a voice on the other side.
“Friends of yours?” asked Roman.
Miranda said nothing, instead moving her hand to the inside of her jacket, onto the grip of her gun.
Chapter 10
“We’re looking for Miranda Walker,” the voice shouted, muffled through the metal of the front door. “We have a warrant. Open up, or we’ll enter by force.”
“Get to the service elevator,” said Mr. Nowak, gesturing to the group, his eyes on the front door.
The group stood up from the table and moved through the room, the massive window behind them framing their escape.
Miranda watched Mr. Nowak walk to the door with slow steps, his palm extended in front of him, as though ready to give a “halt” order.
“We need to go, now,” said Roman, his eyes fixed on Mr. Nowak.
“Last warning!” the voice on the other side of the door shouted.
“Coming, coming,” said Mr. Nowak, affected a bland annoyance to his voice, as though a dinner party were being disturbed.
But as soon as he placed his hand on the silver knob of the door it burst open, sending the door flying from its hinges and back into the room, sliding across the wood floor. And once the door was breeched, uniformed officers poured into the room, all brandishing small, silver blades, similar to what Miranda saw Roman wield at the bar.
The officers entered in an orderly commotion. There was over a dozen of them, and they lined up at the entry of the apartment with their hands behind their backs, as though in military formation. And Miranda noticed something else strange: despite it being well into the night, the officers were all wearing sunglasses.
After the officers streamed in, Miranda watched as three more people entered the apartment. However, these three weren’t wearing police uniforms. And as she scanned their faces, her stomach dropped in horror as she looked upon a face she recognized: the man who nearly killed her.
“Ah, there’s my girl!” the man said, noticing Miranda as soon as he entered, clapping his hands together and tossing his loose, dark hair out of his face, revealing a sinister expression.
“Stay away from her, Artem!” said Roman, positioning his body in front of Miranda.
But Miranda wasn’t content to have Roman shield her. Side stepping him, she moved from behind Roman and stood at his side, her hand still on her pistol.
“I’d advise against that, darling,” said Artem, walking away from the row of officers and towards Roman and Miranda. “Not to mention, I would’ve thought you’d have learned your lesson at our last encounter.”
Miranda shot a look over her shoulder at the rest of the group, who were all gathered in the back of the apartment, poised to make their escape.
“And I wouldn’t make any sudden movements,” said Artem, walking back and forth as he spoke, the other two vampires, a man and a woman, both with dark hair and expensive dress, standing side-by-side behind him, “these, ah, officers are more than capable of clearing out this entire room.”
“I’m going to give you all one last chance, on behalf of the painfully benevolent Madame Moroz. Surrender now, and your deaths will be painless. Personally, I favor a much more drawn-out process, so, for my sake, I’m hoping you put up a little bit of a fight.”
“But not you, darling,” he said, pointing at Miranda. “We need you alive to put a bow on this little crime wave. Now, if you would turn yourself over like a good girl, we can get all this sordid business taken care of.”
“Not a fucking chance,” said Miranda, her eyes narrowed into slivers.
Artem’s own eyes widened in mock surprise.
“Well then!” he said, “in that case we’ll have to s-“
He didn’t get a chance to finish before Mr. Nowak, in a swift, smooth motion, withdrew a small, silver knife from within his grey jacket and whipped it at one of the police officers. It connected with his face, plunging into his cheek, a jet of blood erupting. His face twisted into an expression of intense pain, and when he brought his hands up to the knife, he knocked his sunglasses off, revealing two milky-white eyes.
“They’re Drudges!” said Roman, pointing towards the officers.
“Enough of this!” declared Artem, pointing towards the group of vampires in a dramatic, sweeping motion. “Kill them all!”
With that, the officers broke rank and rushed towards the group, each unsheathing forearm-sized silver blades. Roman grabbed one officer by the shoulders and threw him into two others, causing the three to fly into a standing sculpture, bringing the thing down in a crash.
Miranda withdrew her pistol, drew a bead on Artem and pulled the trigger. A thin pop rang out, and, just as before, he hardly noticed the impact of the bullet against his chest.
“How many of my shirts are you planning on ruining, young lady?” he said with a sneer.
Artem and a handful of the oncoming officers froze in place before they could reach the group. Miranda looked back to determine the cause of this strange happening, and saw Simone, her hand extended, her face tightened in concentration.
“Everyone get out of here!” she yelled. “I can’t hold them forever!”
With that, the group ran from the room. But Miranda stayed by Roman, taking potshots at the vampires who grappled with him and Mr. Nowak.
“Boy, take the woman and get out of here!” Mr. Nowak yelled, tossing one of the suited vampires across the room and into a tall bookshelf.
“No!” shouted Roman, “I won’t leave you here!”
But just at that moment, Artem broke free from Simone’s psychic grasp, dashed over to Mr. Nowak, taking him by the throat.
“You might want to listen to him,” said Artem, lifting the man up by his neck.
“Roman, go!” Mr. Nowak said.
But before Roman could respond, Artem slipped a blade from his jacket and held it out in his extended arm, letting the light play across its polished surface before driving it upwards into Mr. Nowak’s neck. A moment later, Mr. Nowak broke into the black ash, the ash holding its previous human form for just a moment before rushing to the ground and spreading like dark water.
Roman froze for a moment, seemingly unable to realize what had just happened.
“Roman, we need to leave now!” shouted Kieran, emerging from the hallway leading to the service elevator.
Roman stared at Artem, as though he could kill him with a murderous enough glance.
But the moment was interrupted by Simone, who launched the still-held pack of officers towards those who still stood. The bodies collided with the others, sending the invaders tumbling backwards in a jumble of arms and legs.
Only one officer still stood, and turning towards Simone, he rushed at her with his gun raised. By instinct, Miranda raised her own pistol and fired off a quick shot. The officer’s head snapped back with the impact, sending a spray of blood from his now-limp body. He collapsed in a heap as Miranda looked at him with a shocked expression; she couldn’t believe that she had just taken a fellow officer’s life.
“Now!” said Roman, grabbing her by the upper arm and rushing her across the room towards the others. The made a mad dash down the long hallway that led to the small, steel doors of the service elevator, where Simone and the Italian man were waiting for them with frantic expression and beckoning gestures.
Roman and Miranda rushed into the elevator, the figures of the now-free horde filling the hallway. Just as the door closed, Miranda saw the narrow-eyed, twisted-smile face of Artem as he watched them escape. As soon as the doors shut completely, Miranda sank to a sitting position in the corner.
“What now?” asked the Italian man.
“Good question,” said Roman, speaking over the sound of the elevator rapidly descending. “There’s a safe house in Brooklyn, in Bed Stuy. Should be a safe place to hide until we can figure out a plan.”
The doors opened, revealing a parking garage where the rest of the group stood waiting.
“Then let’s not waste another second,” said Roman.
With that, the group split up, getting into their cars and speeding off into the night.
Chapter 11
“What the hell just happened?” shouted Miranda as the car sped through the city streets.
“We were attacked,” said Roman, not matching her frantic tone.
“I figured that out own my own, thanks.”
Roman said nothing.
“And if I wasn’t a murderer before, I am now,” she said, thinking back on the officer she killed with a single bullet to the forehead.
“That was a drudge, a vampire slave. Likely not a police officer. Barely a human. And I’d consider what you were doing to be in self-defense.”
This calmed Miranda a bit, thought she still felt shaken by the events of the last hour.
“What does this mean, that they’ve taken over the NYPD?”
“Possibly. Perhaps certain precincts. Yours, likely.”
Miranda clenched her fists as she looked out of the window at the massive shape of the Brooklyn Bridge, the skyline of Brooklyn in the distance behind it. After a moment, they drove onto the bridge and off of the island of Manhattan.
They made the rest of the trip in silence, Miranda’s thoughts rushing with the implications of what she had just seen and learned. Not only was there a society of vampires in the city, but they were doing battle with another society half a world away. And it seemed as though their fight could destabilize the entire city. She looked at her phone for the first time in hours, having long silenced it, and saw dozens of missed calls.
After a time, they reached Leffert’s Garden, a neighborhood near Prospect Park, and pulled up to a massive colonial house. Several cars were already parked along the street in front of the place, and Miranda figured this must be the safe house. They walked in through the front door, and the scene was already one of conflict.
“How the hell did they even know we were there?” said Vincent.
“Probably our new cop chick friend,” said one of the women, a slim blonde who regarded Miranda with an expression of suspicion.
“I didn’t tell anyone a damn thing,” said Miranda, ready to jump at the girl.
“We’re lucky to have gotten out alive!” yelled Kieran, his pale face in an expression of anger as he paced across the living room.
“Not all of us did,” said Roman, striding into the room.
The group grew silent, thinking of Mr. Nowak.
“So now what?” said Aron, who was leaning against the exposed-brick wall, his arms crossed under his chest. There’s, what, a dozen of us? Mr. Nowak was our connection to the society elders. Without him, we’ll never get the attention of the rest of the city.”
“Yeah, and if we don’t act fast, the Old-Worlders will be the ones getting their attention.”
“I don’t understand,” said Miranda, “don’t your people want to keep the city to themselves?”
“You’d think so,” said Vincent while looking off in another direction. “But they’re so busy with their own political games that they won’t notice what’s happening before it’s too late.”
“Right,” added Roman, “and there’ve been so many upstarts in the societies that it’s taking all their power just to hold on to their own positions.”
“It doesn’t help when underlings are killing elders en masse,” said Kieran, shooting his gaze at Vincent.
Vincent caught this, and started across the room towards Kieran.
“You’ve got a lot of goddamn nerve to say this sh-“
But before he could finish his sentence, Roman rushed in between the men, pushing them apart with some struggle.
“Enough of this!” he said, his voice lined with anger as he shoved Vincent away from Kieran. “Fighting amongst ourselves while complaining about the elders doing the same thing; maybe we deserve to be taken over by the Old-Worlders.”
A silence grew over the room.
“I think we all need some rest. Then tomorrow night we can figure out a plan.”
“Fine with me,” said Kieran, the rest of the group nodding in agreement. “There’s another safe house in Bed Stuy. If anyone wants to come with, go ahead. But we’ll need to leave now if we’re to get there before the sun comes up.”
With that, the group split, with some of the group heading upstairs, and a handful going with Kieran and Nora.
Miranda was overcome with exhaustion. Plopping down on an overstuffed couch, she felt the sleep that she had been fighting off overcome her, and over the sounds of feet clomping on the hardwood floor of the house, she fell quickly into a deep sleep.
The first thing Miranda noticed when she awoke was the feeling of cool skin against her face. She snapped into alertness and noticed that she was being car
ried by a pair of strong, sturdy arms. Looking up, she saw the face of Roman, his features framed by his dark, thick hair draped towards her down the sides of his face. Her first instinct was to struggle, but the feeling of comfort took over, and she let herself be carried by him as they ascended a flight of stairs. After a time, they entered a bedroom, and Roman placed Miranda down with care on a large bed of soft covers and plush pillows.
“You weren’t out for long,” he said, noticing her open eyes. “I figured sleeping upright on a couch for ten hours wouldn’t do your neck any favors.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep.
But now that she was alone with Roman, questions about the events of the last day filled her mind, along with a sense of anger at the situation that she now found herself in.
“No, what the hell am I doing?” she asked aloud, wondering why she was letting this man care for her as though he weren’t someone who was putting her life in danger. “I’ve got to get out of here, now!”
Miranda sat up and moved to the head of the bed, curling her body up and holding a pillow in front of herself.
Roman sat down on the edge of the bed.
“The longer you pretend that this is a situation that you can ignore, or blame on someone else, the longer it will take for you to work through it,” he said, not turning to look at her.
“You can’t simply walk out of here. You have to fight now. Our fight is now your fight, whether you want it or not,” he continued.
Miranda felt for her gun under her jacket, and with relief realized that it was still there. Anger once again ran through her, waking her fully. She shifted off of the bed, standing up, looming over Roman.
“And so what am I supposed to do now?” she asked, her arms wide, “take my fucking gun and shoot as many vampires as I can? Be a pawn in your goddamn power playing? Not only am I wanted for murders that I had nothing to do with, but I just found out that the institution that I devoted my life to is a lie, a fucking lie.”
