by J. P. Rice
Now I understood completely. It was all a protection issue. His own blood. His family didn’t feel safe with him as the patriarch. The prospect of losing that probably scared him much more than any vampire.
I said, “If you squash this right now, I can make sure nobody else gets hurt. I might need some concessions, though.”
He jumped up again, pointed at my face and exploded, “Concessions from me? Not a chance. He apologizes to me in front of every member of my pack and hands over two more of his men. An eye for an eye. That’s the only offer.”
I explained, “You both are demanding things that are unreasonable.”
Octavius held the blanket firmly over his shoulders. Pacing in front of the coffee table, he shook his head and said, “You haven’t been around here. Ask around. You’ll find out he’s taking you for a ride. You’re going to feel like a real fool.”
I sat back down at the desk. “First of all, I’m not taking any sides. I’m friendly with both of you. I’m trying to keep peace in my city.”
He stopped pacing for a moment and stared down at me. “It’s just...how should I put this? Really fucking suspicious. That’s all. You’re not exactly the superhero type.”
“Right back at you.” I tried to brush off the slight. I loved Iron Man and he wasn’t the superhero type, until he was. In fact, he was a selfish asshole, just like me. Since this was going nowhere, I decided to broach a few other subjects. “So you haven’t heard a single thing about Darabond?”
He groaned and sat back down. “Give up on him and find yourself a new man. Stop torturing yourself over this. It’s not worth it. Look what it’s done to you.”
I responded immediately, “That’s rich coming from you. I never started any senseless wars that would endanger my city.”
He waved his pointer finger in front of his face. “I’m not starting anything either. I’m finishing a problem that someone else started.”
What could I say that wouldn’t have this surly bastard getting his panties all wadded up? “Look. Forget about that. Have you heard anything about Lugh’s Spear?”
Octavius smirked and titled his head to the side. “I’ve heard that you should stop chasing it. That everyone should stop chasing it for that matter. Give up on the spear and give up on your husband, June. You’ll live a much happier life.”
Now a balding werewolf was throwing me life advice. It took every ounce of strength in my body not to make a Mr. Clean joke. “That doesn’t really answer the question. Have you heard anything?”
He growled, “Same old chatter. Same old people saying the same things they did five years ago. Same things they said ten years ago. Twenty years ago.”
“I get the picture.”
“You’ve held it. Did you feel the power?” he asked, and I could see his eyes light up in the dim room.
I told him, “I definitely felt something. When I grabbed it the first time, I felt a jolt. A shot of electricity. And when you look at it, your heart starts to pound and every drop of sweat comes to the surface. It almost has a presence. A gravity to it.”
He mused, “I suppose that’s why many men have died in the quest for the Spear.”
I reminded him, “Women too.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, muddled.
I informed him, “A lot of women have died on the quest too. Men always seem to forget about us.”
A knock on the door startled me. As I turned, the door was opening toward us and the bouncer stuck his head inside. “Sir, your appointment is here.”
“What appointment?” Octavius snapped at him.
“It is an appointment with Mike...” he paused and looked out into the hall.
Someone shoved the bouncer aside and stepped through the jamb with all the confidence in the world. Of course. The tall blond guy. This Mike character was everywhere.
“Hello, sir. I’m here on behalf of Jonathan Rickleshaw,” he announced as he approached Octavius. Mike extended an open hand. Why the hell was Captain Peach Fuzz crashing the party?
Still in wolf form, Octavius jumped up and glared at me. “What’s going on, June?”
I responded, “I haven’t the foggiest.” I turned to Mike, who pulled his hand back from Octavius. This earnest do-gooder was messing up my plan. “Did Jonathan send you to do this?”
He shook his head, tightlipped. “No, ma’am. I’m a man of action. In this case, I guess I’m trying to stop some action. With the backing of the Celtic Gods, I’ve sworn to protect Pittsburgh. A werewolf-vampire war wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
Octavius shook his head nervously and kept rubbing the top of his scalp, making sure it was covered with hair. He was safe in wolf form, although he should have been worried about covering up ‘little Sasquatch’. “I still don’t like you just showing up like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Mike said, “I made an appointment and showed up on time.”
“Here’s how this is going down. Let’s end this nonsense right now like men. Why not a duel? If this Jonathan is a proper leader, then he will accept the challenge. We can settle it the old way. The honorable way,” Octavius suggested.
I objected, “But what would that prove? I mean, would it stop all future hostilities? Or would it just be another man dying?”
Octavius fired back, venom dripping from his words, “It would give me the justice I deserve. I can prove in front of my pack that I will stand up for them when they are attacked by cowards.”
The door flew open and Caesar appeared, frantic and disheveled. “Octavius, we’re under attack. Vampires are here.”
Octavius leaned forward with both hands extended, lunging at Mike and me. But then he leaned down further, his hands hitting the hardwood floor. I knew what he was about to do, and I backed up a few steps as the smell of burning meat became overwhelming.
The werewolf began to shift again, swelling in the midsection, his jaw elongating, furry triangular ears developing on top of his head. Within seconds, he was in the form of the biggest damn dire wolf anyone had ever seen. On all fours, he charged for the door and overshot it. He skidded across the floor, his claws screeching against the hardwood.
His big body shaped like a barrel of wine slammed into me, bowling me over before he darted out the door in a flash with Caesar hot on his heels. I jumped up and peeked out the door. I could hear Octavius screaming, “June and that kid sold us out. Send some troops in to take them out.”
Before I had time to set up a proper escape plan, several werewolves made a beeline down the hallway toward Octavius’ room. I pulled my head back inside and locked the door. It wouldn’t stop them, but it would slow them down. Why weren’t they focused on the vampires?
Mike said, “If we work together, we can get out of this.”
“Screw that. It’s everyone for themselves now.” I hated to burst his bubble, but I didn’t work well with others. I thought about conjuring up a weapon, but then another idea came to the fore. I tapped into the skills I’d obtained from a lightning mage. A spark jolted my heart and dispersed through my body.
I looked at the back of my hands and saw the blue pulses of energy, dancing just below the surface. That meant I was ready for action.
The men kept hammering away at the door, and the firm wood bowed in toward us, threatening to break off the hinges. A loud smack rang in my ears as a hairy foot busted through. I smiled and walked casually toward the door.
Before the wolf could pull his foot back through the splintered mess, I flicked one of his toes. Electricity jumped from my finger to his toe, the blast of energy coursing through the rest of his body. He howled in pain, struggling to get his foot back out.
With the smell of burnt hair hanging heavy in the air, I grabbed his foot again, juicing him with more energy, and yanked the leg in, up to the wolf’s knee. He howled, and the others rapped on the door furiously, yelling at me to stop. This was going to be too easy.
The wolf wedged his leg out before I could grab his foot again.
No matter. Someone still had to reach inside and unlock the door. I could do this all day, boys.
Instead of a hand, the barrel of a big gun came through the hole. I heard someone scream, “Open it up now.”
It was a strange barrel and I couldn’t tell what kind of gun it was until I noticed the connected gas tank through the opening in the door.
I turned to Mike, pushed him to the side of the room and dove on top of him. A blast of fire erupted from the wide barrel of the homemade flame thrower. It immediately engulfed two desks and a felt painting of Hernando Cortez on the wall. Well, so much for waiting them out.
Mike said, “Are you ready to work as a team now?”
The barrel turned toward the other side of the room and another burst of flames lit up Octavius couch and coffee table.
My heart skipped a few beats, then stopped as flashbacks from the lava bath crept into my head. The only reason I’d survived the lava was because I had gone straight to my father’s house and received some magical healing. If my body burned again, I wasn’t sure I would survive.
Tossing the panic-stricken fear aside, I jumped up and rushed the door. I leaned forward with my shoulder and rammed into the door. Sparks of electricity jumped from my body and blasted the door right off the hinges. The huge piece of wood slammed into the men outside, knocking them down and discombobulating them while I made my dramatic exit.
If I could just get down this hallway, I could get the hell out of here. I didn’t want to kill any of the wolves even though Octavius had just ordered my death. Using the inclined door as a ramp, I ran up the plank of wood and jumped over a werewolf sprawled out on the ground.
Another wolf grabbed me, but I jolted his hand with my bubbling electricity. As I continued down the narrow hallway, the growls of howling wolves broke out behind me. I rounded on them, and two were lunging at me. Ducking one wolf’s advances, I rose and unleashed an uppercut. I connected right under his ribcage, chasing the wind out of him and zapping him with lightning.
A blurry object raced toward me, and by the time it came into focus, a huge paw smacked me in the cheek, knocking me senseless and ending my electric attack. Shaking the cobwebs loose, I realized they had me surrounded. I tried to bring back the electricity, but it wasn’t working.
I didn’t like being cornered. Like an obsidian cauldron over hot coals, a fiery anger came to a boil inside me, heating my dark blood. My vision swirled like a tornado and then the world went all red. The ginger storm had begun.
I heard feral screaming and loud crashes. My body was in motion, but all I could see was blood. Staining my vision. Clouding my mind. Tainting my soul. I’d gone into these fits before and it had never turned out well for my opponents.
I just had to let it run its course. These fits could last anywhere from thirty seconds to several hours. They always seemed like they only lasted a few seconds to me, but witnesses had informed me about the length of my actions after the fact.
My vision cleared. I was at the end of the hallway. I poked my head out into the foyer and looked left at two vampires I recognized from the Purple House. They were battling three wolves. Fookin’ Jonathan. Why were his vamps here?
As I went to check to the right, I noticed fresh blood all over my hands. I rubbed my fingers together and the slick warm liquid confused me. A loud growl erupted behind me and a firm object clobbered me on the back of the head. The foyer began to spin and then the world went dark.
Chapter 8
My eyelids opened to reveal a small, dank cell with what appeared to be a dead body next to me. It was Mike. He was face down and not moving. I leaned over and put my fingers on the side of his neck. No pulse. Too bad for him.
The dim cell consisted of three concrete walls and a fourth wall of metal bars with a locked door on the right side. The moist dirt ground and a cot against the back wall were the only things inside the cell.
I tried to piece together how I had got here. The fight had broken out with the vampires, and Octavius had ordered his men to kill me. I remembered the big fight with the werewolves as I tried to escape, and then everything had gone red. This had to be a cell the werewolves used for prisoners.
Searching around for clues, I noticed brownish-red stains on my hands, and as I moved them closer to the light, I found that it was dried blood. What the hell had happened?
Another Ginger Storm had struck. I had so many types of magical blood running around my body and when they wanted to take over, they did. The dark blood could take hold of me at any time, making me a prisoner to my own actions. It happened mostly when I was cornered and scared and other times fits of anger caused them.
I’d read something in the Florida Sentinel that claimed to be the true meaning of the word hurricane (her-ri-cane). Hurricane was the true spirit of the African women who had been stolen, beaten, raped, murdered and thrown overboard the slave ships. That was why hurricanes began at the same point of exodus in Africa and hit every stop where slaves were sold. All throughout the Caribbean and up and down the coast of the southern United States.
My Ginger Storms weren’t quite on that level, but I felt a kinship with that definition of hurricane. I’d been through a lot of the same torture during my undercover experience in the Red Cavern and understood that a girl could only take so much. Only be pushed so far before she snapped. I tried to control the storms, but one thing was certain, once they started, there was no stopping them.
I had thought little of it at the time. I’d just wanted to obtain powers, but I had gone on a magical shopping spree and shunned any thought of repercussions. Now I had trouble controlling the darkness.
I picked up some dirt from the ground and mashed it into my hands. The soil had just enough moisture to sop up the crusty bloodstains.
Without warning, Mike stirred around, scaring the living shit out of me. I threw the dirt back down. He rolled onto his side, then his back. He peered around the cell and said, “Locked up with a maniac. Great.”
“I’m a maniac?” I pointed to my chest. “You’re the one with Celtic rune symbol tattoos on your wrists. I’ve only seen them on assassins.”
Mike sat up slowly and took a deep, wheezing breath. He tapped his ribs tenderly and grimaced in reaction. “Unless that was someone else back in that hallway, then yes, you are an absolute maniac. How many wolves did you kill?”
I looked over my shoulder, certain he was talking about someone else but only stacked cinderblocks met my eyes. “None that I know of.”
“Really? I can count four wolves. I stood there and watched you rip their hearts out. I don’t know how you broke through the ribcage or pulled it out, but I witnessed it with these two eyes,” he said, two fingers pointing at his eyes.
“I have a bit of a problem with rage,” I stated quietly.
“More like wrath,” he said as he put one hand on his temple and the other on his chin. He twisted his hands, cracking his neck.
“Potato, pahtahto. It’s a problem I’ve been working on.” I stood up and went to the door of the cell. I lay my face against the thin latticed bars and listened for guards. I couldn’t hear anything, but I noticed a bright ray of light in the distance.
“Well, you need to work harder. I didn’t kill any wolves, but for some reason, they thought I was with you. I’m really not trying to die because of your crazy actions.” Mike’s fingers poked through the bars and lifted himself to his feet. He held onto the metal for a few moments until he completely caught his balance.
“In fairness, they were going to kill both of us, if they could. I might have saved your life by killing some of them. They weren’t coming after us for a tickling contest. And I didn’t want to kill anyone in the first place. Why did a group of vampires show up?”
He turned to me with confusion clouding his blue eyes. “No idea. You recognize any of them?”
I slammed my eyelids shut and tried to remember the events after the storm. “Two. I saw two vampires and they were members of the Purple House.
But Jonathan knew I was coming here. I didn’t tell him an exact time, but that seems odd.”
Mike flexed his fingers and hands. For some reason, they grabbed my attention and I couldn’t look away.
Still unable to avert my gaze from his mitts, he said, “It doesn’t seem that odd. Jonathan’s been going a little crazy lately. But if we are both working on his behalf, was he setting us up? Octavius should have known I was coming.”
I didn’t have a lot of people I considered friends in this world and I wasn’t ready to peg one of them as a liar. I also understood that people changed over time and kept reminding myself that he was a vampire who would chug my blood if given the chance. “Jonathan knows better than to set me up. I’m not the type of person you want to cross.”
“Do you have a better explanation, then?” he asked as he sat down on the cot and leaned his head back against the concrete wall.
I paced the length of the cell. “Give me a few minutes, Peach Fuzz. Let me clear my head. You know, if you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t even be in here.”
Mike huffed in response and sat up straight. “I’m not sure about that since you came on Jonathan’s behalf. And furthermore, you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
“How so?”
Mike stared at me in disbelief. “Because after you ripped out the hearts of four wolves, the rest of them wanted to kill you for some crazy reason.”
“And you stopped them?” I asked in a somber tone, almost taken aback.
“Yeah, I stopped them with my face.” He pointed to the left side of his lumpy cheek. “They became so enamored with beating me silly, that they forgot about you long enough until Caesar arrived. Caesar told them they couldn’t kill you because you were too valuable. But he let them beat the shit out of me.”
I was torn, not sure if I could believe this guy. He had no reason to lie, really. And he had cuts on his arms and face, two developing black eyes that were already puffing up, and a bloody red patch on his left sclera. Not to mention his clothes were torn and tattered. His dilated pupils stared intently at me, waiting for me to respond to his valiant story.
