Black Fall

by D.J. Bodden

CHAPTER 20

  What do you mean, ‘We have a problem?’

  Bert just left Kieran in the middle of Grand Central.

  Jonas frowned. I don’t understand, what—

  It’s the full moon, Jonas.

  Jonas’ mouth dropped open. There were hundreds of people in Grand Central at any given time. He pictured the large, central room, with broken bodies and bloodstains on the cream-colored marble, the survivors – infected with lycanthropy. There were also national guardsmen there at all times, which meant that in short order there would be Humvees, machine guns, helicopters, and more carnage.

  “You alright, kid?” Frank said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been standing there with your mouth open for over a minute.”

  Jonas realized everyone was looking at him. Even Jim wasn’t smiling.

  “It’s nothing. I need to… I have to go meet a friend.”

  “Uh huh,” Frank said. “Gear up, boys!”

  The others started unzipping their bags.

  “No!” Jonas said. The last thing he needed was more people with guns getting involved. He was pretty sure any solution the hunters came up with for the Kieran’s problem would be permanent. “It’s nothing. I just need to go take care of some personal business.” Frank stared at him. Jonas stared back.

  Please, Jonas thought.

  He didn’t push the thought, but the hunter nodded, keeping his eyes on Jonas. “Sure. Stand down, everybody, false alarm.”

  Steve and Billy looked at each other; Jim shrugged and went back to eating, and Eugene started reading again. Frank grabbed a shoulder holster from his bag, stuffed two pistols and two magazines into it, and threw his coat on. “Where we going, kid?”

  “What? I don’t—”

  Jonas was about to protest, but Frank arched an eyebrow at him, which Jonas translated into… This is as much of a leash as I’m willing to give you.

  “Grand Central,” Jonas said, keeping his face calm. He’d have to figure out how to keep Frank from shooting Kieran when he got there. He grabbed his coat, stuffed two blood packs and his wallet into the inner pockets, and walked out of the apartment with Frank in tow. He didn’t see Amelia until it was almost too late, nearly bowling her over.

  She squeaked and said “Jonas!”

  “Amelia?”

  Frank pushed Jonas to the side, reaching for his holster. Amelia’s eyes widened.

  “It’s okay! It’s okay! She’s my… she’s a friend from school,” Jonas said. He’d almost said, girlfriend, but the situation with Eve had complicated things.

  “What are you… what happened to your door, and your apartment?” Amelia said, glancing behind them at the demolished living room. “And who are all those men, Jonas?”

  Frank reached back and pulled the door closed behind them.

  “Just bodyguards,” Jonas said. “You remember Bert and Phil, don’t you?”

  “Bert and Phil wore suits, Jonas. Those men looked more like soldiers, and your apartment looks like a bomb went off inside it.”

  “She’s sharp, kid,” Frank said, grinning. “Girlfriend?”

  “Yes,” said Amelia.

  “No,” Jonas said at the same time.

  Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice rising in pitch.

  Jonas clamped his eyes shut. He did not have time to deal with this. “Why are you here, Amelia?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “We had plans, remember. Because you’re my boyfriend. You’ve been my boyfriend for two years, and we go out on Sundays, only lately you don’t answer your phone so I came to check where we’re meeting tomorrow!”

  Amelia was a nice girl. She’d been there for him during the past year, after his father disappeared. But she liked plans, routine, and stability. Jonas knew the last month had probably frayed her nerves. She’d been displaced from her comfort zone and was now hurtling toward hysteria.

  “Amelia, look, I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything later, but right now I have to go.”

  “Why, so you can meet Eve at a coffee shop in front of all my friends again? No, I’m coming with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “You can’t. It’s—” He’d almost said It’s too dangerous, which wouldn’t have been good, because Frank would have turned around and had the whole group out for Kieran’s blood. “I mean… fine. You can come,” he said and stomped toward the elevator.

  How’s Kieran? Jonas sent to Madoc.

  He’s just standing there, shaking slightly. He must have a lot of willpower; most werewolves his age would have gone berserk by now, Madoc answered.

  That surprised Jonas. From the way Kieran had lashed out during training, Jonas would have thought he was below average. But then it occurred to him that he’d never seen a werewolf Kieran’s age in the training room, or in any part of the Agency for that matter. Maybe the specter was right.

  You know this is a trap, don’t you? Madoc said. Fangston is well aware that I’m working with you.

  I do. Can you get me out of it?

  I’ll try, Madoc said, but his tone wasn’t reassuring.

  A cab was parked outside his apartment building. The cabbie lowered the passenger side window and leaned over. “You Jonas Black?”

  “Yes?” said Jonas.

  “A voice in my head called Madoc insisted that I meet you here.”

  “And you believed it?” Amelia said.

  The cabbie shrugged. “The voice said you’d tip me one hundred dollars to take you to Grand Central as fast as possible.”

  “You’re not seriously going to get in that cab, are you?” Amelia whispered to Jonas.

  “I seriously am. But you don’t have to—”

  “I’m coming,” she said, flatly.

  “Fine.”

  They piled into the back of the taxi and the driver peeled away from the curb, leaving tire tracks behind. The cab never stopped. It seemed to glide through traffic, always hitting green lights and never getting cut off. They were going well over the speed limit, and roared past a cop who happened to be looking the other way.

  “This your friend’s work?” Frank asked.

  “I think so,” Jonas said.

  Amelia just stared, wide-eyed, gripping her seat belt.

  The cabbie hit the fare button three blocks from Grand Central. “Go ahead,” he said, “and don’t forget the tip I was promised.” His eyes never left the road, and there was an edge to his voice.

  Jonas swiped his card and typed one, zero, zero, when the tip screen came up. The cab screeched to a halt a block from the station. “Better run from here, kid,” the cabbie said, “Too much traffic in front of the building.”

  Jonas was already scrambling out. “Thanks!”

  “Hey kid,” the cabbie said, leaning over to the passenger window. “Here’s my card. If you ever—”

  “I will,” Jonas said, snatching the card and walking as quickly as he could toward the terminal. He would have run but didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.

  “You’re not going to lose me, or scare me off, Jonas. Or are you in such a hurry to meet—”

  “For the last time, Amelia, I am not going to meet Eve. I am not trying to lose you. I am breaking up with you, but now is not the time or place to talk about it, and it doesn’t have anything to do with something you’ve done. You’re everything a sixteen-year-old human girlfriend ought to be.”

  Amelia opened and shut her mouth like a fish a few times, then said, “It’s because she’s older, isn’t it?”

  Jonas rolled his eyes, turned, and headed into the terminal.

  She’s still following you, Madoc said.

  I can’t help that. I just hope whoever Fangston or Bert sent after me heard me try to send her away, or we’ll need to figure out how to protect her, too.

  They heard, Madoc said. But it won’t stop them.

  Jonas gritted his teeth. “Frank, I may have understated the amount of danger we’re in.”
<
br />   “I figured as much. I’m assuming you have a plan?”

  “No.”

  Frank didn’t miss a beat, he just kept walking, pushing through the crowd toward the main concourse.

  “What’s the situation?” he said, his voice now a little more tense than before.

  “Adolescent werewolf in the middle of the main concourse, full moon.”

  “We kill it,” Frank said, without hesitation.

  “No.”

  Frank grabbed Jonas by the shoulder, his voice low and harsh. “Kid, there isn’t a single scenario where I let that thing live. Now tell me what he looks like.” He unfastened his coat, revealing a silver dagger at his right hip.

  Jonas glanced at the crowd around them; no one seemed to notice his heated exchange with Frank. That, or they just didn’t want to get involved. “He’s my friend—”

  “I’ll make it quick.”

  “—and he’s Phillip Macready’s favorite son. And he’s special. Really special.”

  Frank’s eyes darted from side to side, like he was speed reading, then he closed them, took a deep breath, and said. “That’s not all, is it? There’s more?”

  “I don’t know. His older brother’s the one that left him here. Could be a family power play, or—” Madoc connected to him, briefly, showing him the tactical situation. “Never mind, it’s the Order. There are six vampires and werewolves in the Terminal, working in pairs.”

  “You led us into a trap,” Frank said, his upper lip curling into a snarl.

  “I made a choice. And if it works, Phillip Macready will side with us. We need more men.”

  “They’re not men,” Frank said.

  “And neither am I, or Madoc. How many of your people are you willing to sacrifice over bigotry?”

  Jonas saw the blow coming and flinched, but nothing happened. He’d seen Frank’s muscles tense, and the raw, deep-rooted rage in the man’s eyes, but the hunter had held his anger in check.

  Frank’s jaw pulsed. “The mission comes first,” he hissed. It sounded like a personal mantra.

  Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have a solution, Madoc said, flashing a diagram into both of their minds.

  Frank responded with uncertainty. “It’s tight.”

  I can make it work, but we need to act now, Madoc said.

  “I’m sorry, it’s the only way,” Jonas said.

  Frank shook his head. “I’ll call the others.” He stepped out of the flow of people and pulled an old flip phone out of his coat. Jonas kept walking; Madoc would keep them connected.

  “Umm… Jonas? What are you two talking about?” Amelia was staring at them like they were both crazy.

  Jonas and Frank both looked at her incredulously. “I forgot she was there,” Frank said.

  “Never mind,” Jonas replied. “You’re coming with me.” He grabbed her by the upper arm and headed toward the Main Concourse.

  She started to struggle. “What? I’m not—”

  Jonas let her go. “Madoc, handle this,” Jonas said.

  A few seconds later, Amelia caught up to him. She was pale.

  “I wish you’d just listened to me and gone home,” Jonas said.

  “So do I,” she replied, almost jogging to keep up.

  They walked into Main Concourse – a gigantic, open space, almost a football field long and over one hundred feet tall. An arched, blue ceiling soared above them, with constellations depicted in gold leaf, along with the Greek gods they represented. Jonas always felt dwarfed by it.

  “That’s him,” Jonas said.

  They saw Kieran in the center of the concourse. He stood stock still, looking straight ahead, as if concentrating on something in the distance.

  Madoc, has anyone noticed him yet?

  The two national guardsmen by the south entrance have been watching him for two minutes, but they haven’t called it in.

  “The army guys are watching him,” Jonas said to Amelia. “I need you to pretend he’s an old friend, and you’re really happy to see him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Kieran.”

  Amelia took a deep breath, loosened the scarf around her neck, and walked quickly toward the statuesque werewolf. “Kieran, you made it! It’s so good to see you!” The change from terrified to giggly was so abrupt, it took Jonas by surprise. Her act was completely convincing, considering it had to be the opposite of how she really felt. He wondered how often she’d pulled that that stunt on him.

  Not that she could do it anymore - he could literally hear her think, now - but it still caught him off-guard and she managed to get a few steps ahead of him, laughing and waving her hands.

  She wrapped her arms around Kieran and hugged him.

  The werewolf’s entire body tensed, like a ripple of muscle, and his eyes suddenly began to glow neon blue. “Oh crap,” Jonas said, and dove into Kieran’s mind.

  ♟

  “Stop! Please stop! I give up!”

  “You don’t get to just give up, runt. Get up and fight!”

  Jonas was in a basement with cinderblock walls and a concrete floor. A few padded mats were strewn about. He noticed they were covered in scratches, and the concrete with old bloodstains.

  A younger version of Kieran — he looked to be thirteen or fourteen — was lying on the mats, curled into a ball. Bert picked him up by the neck, held Kieran up in front of him with his left hand, and slapped him.

  “Fight back,” Bert said. His face was calm, but Jonas could tell there was a seething mixture of emotions there: anger, disgust, confusion. Kieran wasn’t reacting the way he was supposed to. All he did was bring his arms up to cover his face. He didn’t try to hit Bert, or even break his grip. He only tried to lessen the damage.

  “You’re a werewolf! Fight!” Bert roared in Kieran’s face, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. It was the same grinding roar that Phillip had used once, nearly sending Jonas running for his life. Kieran flinched, but didn’t struggle. He just hung there, limp.

  Around the perimeter of the mats children and young adults of both genders stood, watching. There were at least a dozen of them. The younger ones held back, looking nervously at their older siblings. The older ones watched more closely, having formed a ring around Bert, their brown or black eyes flashing yellow every time he landed a good hit.

  At first glance, Jonas thought this was just a case of sibling bullying, but then he noticed Leticia Macready standing in the crowd. “Hit him again, Bert,” she said, her eyes glowing like molten gold. “There’s a wolf in there, somewhere. I didn’t give birth to a dog.”

  Bert dropped Kieran on the mat and walked over to his mother. His face looked strained. “He’s hurt. He’ll die if I keep—”

  “No! You do what’s necessary or I’ll step in and show you how it’s done,” she said. Jonas searched the crowd, but there was no sympathy in their eyes. Fear, anger, amusement, but not sympathy.

  He rushed to the side of the mat. “Kieran! Kieran, it’s me, Jonas!”

  Kieran didn’t seem to hear. Then Bert walked over, put his foot on Kieran’s forearm, and leaned forward. “Fight back, boy,” he whispered. “You don’t have to win. Just give mother a good show, and then we can go back upstairs and eat.”

  “No,” Kieran said.

  Bert scowled and put a little more weight on Kieran’s arm. The younger boy whimpered. “Fight back, boy. I don’t want your death on my conscience,” Bert said, and then shifted all of his weight forward. The bone snapped with a loud pop.

  Kieran screamed and began to convulse. His eyes gleamed blue. Jonas knew he needed to keep Kieran from fighting back, or it wouldn’t be his family he tore into, it would be the people in Grand Central, and Amelia would die first.

  Bert picked Kieran up and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him in a bear hug. He spoke into Kieran’s ear. “Fight back, you useless runt.” He squeezed harder. “Fight back, or I’m going to break your ribs, too.”

  Kieran was having trouble breath
ing. His eyes were now glowing a steady blue and his fingers were curled into claws. “Dad…” he gasped.

  Using every ounce of mental force he could muster, Jonas pushed the idea of Phillip Macready walking down the basement stairs, into Kieran’s mind.

  “What’s going on here?” Phillip bellowed.

  Bert dropped Kieran and spun around, looking guilty. “Dad, I—”

  “Your son was showing the weakling what it means to be a werewolf,” Leticia said, stepping onto the mat.

  “By beating the daylights out of someone weaker? So that’s what passes for fierce, is it?” Phillip said, staring at Bert.

  Bert hung his head. “I’m sorry, Dad, I—”

  Leticia shouldered past Bert, standing toe to toe with her husband. “Don’t you make him apologize for doing what’s required by—”

  “Get out! All of you!” Phillip roared. There was a rush for the stairs as his children pushed and shoved to escape their father’s wrath. Leticia stood her ground, defiant. Bert hesitated, then bent to pick Kieran up. “You’ve done enough, Bert. Not your fault, just head upstairs,” Phillip said. His tone was soft, almost pitying. Bert flinched as if he’d been stung. He glanced at his mother, and then followed the others upstairs.

  Once Phillip was certain the children were gone, he spoke to his wife. His voice was calm. “We had an agreement.”

  “According to the old ways—”

  “According to the old ways, he would have been culled at birth for being too small. But I gave you Bert, and you agreed to let me raise Kieran as I saw fit.”

  Leticia stood her ground. She was a big woman, larger than any Jonas had ever met. She wasn’t as trim as Phillip or Bert, but not fat either. “He’s an abomination, Phillip, a weakling. A werewolf who doesn’t fight for his share doesn’t eat,” she said, as if she were quoting scripture.

  Phillip sighed. “Lettie, the old ways are—”

  “They were good enough for my father,” she said, sticking her chin out.

  “Your father died a young man, Leticia, with only one daughter to carry on his bloodline.”

  “And I will,” she said. “And I’ll make him proud, by not having anyone say that Leticia Gregor birthed a weakling. Phillip, I won’t disgrace my father’s good name. He doesn’t eat at my table.”

  “Good,” Phillip said, as Leticia blinked in shock. “Then there’ll be no argument. I’m taking him to live at the Agency.”

  Leticia’s upper lip curled back in disgust. “Fine. Give him to your masters. They can use him like they use you. My father would never—”

  “Your father was an idiot whose only virtue was a questionable claim to the blood of a white wolf. You think the old ways made us free, Lettie? It’s that kind of thinking that got all of your brothers killed before siring sons of their own. Tell me, at what point did your favorite son stop and think for himself, tonight? Did he challenge you? Or was he willing to kill his little brother at your say-so… like the dog that he is!” Phillip shouted out the last sentence, causing Leticia to take a step back. “Now, get out!” Phillip growled, and Leticia fled up the stairs.

  Once she was gone, Phillip knelt at Kieran’s side.

  “I did it, Dad. Just like you said. I didn’t fight back.”

  “I know, son. I know. I heard it all from the top of the steps,” Phillip said, brushing a clump of matted hair from Kieran’s face.

  “I wanted to. I wanted to tear his throat out, and claw his eyes, and Dad… I’m so hungry—”

  “I know, Kieran,” Phillip said, gathering the child into his arms and hugging him. “I’m so very, very proud of you.”

  Kieran smiled, then looked at Jonas over his father’s shoulder. “Jonas?” he said, looking confused.