by S T Branton
I pursed my lips. Lorcan had spouted some grandiose, narcissistic stuff, but this snake-eyed woman was on a whole other level. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You have been warned, Earthborn. Stay out of my way, or be crushed. Strength isn’t everything, you know? In fact, it is seldom superior to a well-honed intellect. Soon, Rocca will be example enough of that.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her peacock feather, which flared into flames and then dissipated on the breeze. I dropped mine as it disintegrated.
“Who are you?”
She turned away, a curtain of hair obscuring her face. “My name is Tahn. You would do well to remember.”
Then she was gone.
Chapter Ten
I stood there on the roof for a few minutes after Tahn had disappeared, collecting my thoughts and trying to see if I could pinpoint where she’d gone. My efforts were fruitless. It was like she never existed. The frustration over losing track of her so quickly reminded me in full force of my original purpose, and I reoriented myself posthaste in the direction of my loft.
“Marcus is gonna be so pissed when he finds out what he’s missed,” I muttered to myself, smiling a little.
The rest of the trek was relatively easy and eerily quiet. Nearing my neighborhood, the buildings dropped off in height, and by the time I got to my street, I could tell the whole area was dead. Not once in the last five and a half years had I ever seen the pavement so clear. No one loitered in the alleys or by the gates. Nobody slept under the overhangs. I walked past a small homeless camp that looked like it was abandoned in a hurry, grungy tarps still scattered with a few possessions.
That made me sort of sad. The feeling only intensified as I came up on Mac’s newspaper stand. The protective gate he always made sure to lock sat askew at a busted angle, its padlock hanging open. The racks of papers and magazines lay on the ground in a heap. Ripped pages fluttered near my feet, interspersed with packs of gum and candy bars. All the tobacco was long gone.
Mac was nowhere to be found.
I fixed the security gate and yanked it flush with the sidewalk. The lock was a lost cause, but there were no more looters anyway. My heart heavy, I rounded the corner to my building. The first thing I noticed was the empty front walkway; my friend Sam was missing, too. I climbed the couple of steps to the doors and hoped against hope that he and Mac were both holed up safe and sound somewhere. They were tough in different ways. They could weather the storm, as long as they’d made it to shelter.
The echoes of my footsteps in the stairwell seemed louder than usual. Taking the steps two at a time, I bounded up to my place, half expecting to find the door wrenched open. But it was locked, and at first glance after I let myself in, all appeared to be as I left it—or really, as Maya and Jules left it. I headed straight for the table where I knew I’d left the medallion and the note.
The note was there. The medallion was gone. I stared at the empty spot on the tabletop. “Oh, fuck.” Bitter panic rose in the back of my throat. I started sifting through the piles of random junk at breakneck speed, hoping Marcus had somehow just been knocked around in the shuffle. Maybe Maya grabbed him and didn’t realize in her rush to get out of the apartment?
As much as I wanted that to be the case, it wasn’t likely.
“Come on, Marcus,” I said out loud, as if he could do anything to help me. “Where’d you go?”
I scattered papers, pens, and old containers across the floor in my frenzied search, which ultimately turned up nothing. I dashed back to the door to check for signs of a break-in that I might have missed. Again, nothing. The scuffs and scratches on the door had all been there for ages, and I knew the lock was engaged when I got home.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, still talking to myself out loud. From there, I went to the old couch and checked the sagging cushions. Then I moved to the bed.
The instant I started to peel back the faded bedspread, an inhuman screech split the air. I jerked my whole body back, yelling in response. A dark, fuzzy shape launched itself at my chest, hissing, claws extended. I dodged without a moment’s thought, reaching for my sword. “Holy shit!”
The creature landed on splayed feet in the middle of the floor. It spun to size me up—and I realized what it was. My shock gave way to relieved, sheepish laughter. Kneeling down, I held out my hand to the poor, terrified cat. “Hey, relax. It’s just me. I live here too, remember?” The kitty’s ears, pinned back on its head, gradually came up. She crept forward to sniff me, and then she began to purr. “There you go.” I scooped her up when she got close enough. “I’m sorry I couldn’t send someone to feed you. You must be starving, huh?”
She nuzzled her little head into my collarbone, and I scratched the back of her neck, turning toward the kitchen. Her hackles were still sort of raised. I thought that was weird, until I glanced up and caught sight of someone standing in my makeshift kitchen. The panic came back in a flash. I dropped the cat. This time, the Gladius Solis came out in full force. There was no pause to collect my thoughts or second-guess my actions. This dickhead had invaded my private space. He didn’t get a change to explain.
That was what I thought, anyway. The brilliant blade hummed through the air, angled directly for the vamp’s thick neck. I expected him to sneer, or sidestep, or fall into a fighting stance. Instead, he threw his arms up over his face and screamed. “Stop! Stop! Jeezum Crow, don’t you got any facial recognition skills, girlie? I know I look bad, but it ain’t that bad!”
At the last second, I diverted my midair swing just enough to avoid decapitation. The edge of the sword still seared a section of the cheap suit adorning the figure’s corpulent frame. He stared at me, his sallow face six inches from mine. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Frank?”
He heaved a full-body sigh, mopping a ragged sleeve across his brow. “For Pete’s sake. I thought you was gonna make sushi out of me.”
“What are you doing here?” I stepped back to get a better look, and the view confirmed what I thought I’d seen prior to the attack. There was no mistaking that pale, sickly sheen on his skin. The circles under his eyes had become even more pronounced. They were more like imprints now. He looked like he was constantly sweating out some kind of horrible fever. Clear signs of a newly made vampire. “I hate to tell you, buddy, but it is that bad.”
“Don’t remind me.” His shoulders sagged. “First time I saw my own reflection afterward, I think I almost had a heart attack. Not that it’d mean shit now.” His laugh was hoarse and hollow, matching the look in his bloodshot eyes. “You know what I heard before? I heard it wasn’t so bad, that you get used to it after a while. The cravings are supposed to go down, see? Like being on a diet.” He ran a hand across his flabby jowls. “Well, it’s been a while, and I ain’t feelin’ so hot.”
“How did you get in here?” It was strangely difficult to see Frank like that in some ways. Yeah, he’d always been a beat-up old dog, and he wasn’t exactly a model citizen, but I still remembered the pit in the slaughterhouse. Hard to think he’d even been in there, let alone survived.
Frank scoffed. “You kiddin’ me, sweetheart? That thing on your door ain’t a lock so much as a damn decoration.” He shrugged. “I jimmied it.”
Skeptical, I raised my eyebrows. “You? With mitts like those?” Frank’s hands looked to be the size of frying pans, and about as dexterous. They were probably pretty good for hitting, but I couldn’t imagine them doing any sort of fine-motor work.
He frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about? I got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve.” To illustrate his point, he held up an arm. The torn flap of his jacket sleeve peeled back along his forearm like the skin of a banana. “You know what I mean.”
“Right.” I stifled a laugh, once more feeling sorry for the guy. “Let me get this straight. You broke into my house and then you locked the door behind you again? And you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“Isn’t it obvious? I was looking for you.” He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Listen, I tried to knock. I mean, I did knock. But nobody answered, and I thought maybe someone got to you first. That’s why I came in.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought, but why were you looking for me?” I slipped the sword back onto my belt. Even as a vampire, Frank posed no threat whatsoever. He was a pretty sorry candidate for vamp blood, all things considered. “I’m thinking either you missed the pleasure of my company, or this was supposed to be a hit. And I have to say, I’m leaning toward the first one because the second option makes me laugh.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Frank stared at the floor. “I told you last time, there’s no love lost between me and the family these days. Guess that means you’re the closest thing I got to a real friend.” He glanced up at me. “And you got that fucked up sword, right? I thought if anyone knew about a cure, it’d be you.”
“A cure?” I looked at his sunken eye sockets and the bluish veins spidering out under his skin. Whenever he talked, a pair of rough, stout fangs protruded from inside his lower jaw. They were a little bit crooked in his mouth; not even the blood of a god could fix Frank’s dental challenges. “Yeah, that’s kind of a long-term goal at the moment.” If nothing else, his apparent faith in me was inspiring.
“Figured it woulda been too easy,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry I busted in.”
“Honestly, Frank, there was no harm done. Except that you scared my cat.” I gave him another good once over, feeling the sympathy swell. Despite all those times I’d threatened him with severe bodily harm, I never would have wished this on him.
“Sorry about that, too.” Frank picked his head up abruptly. “Oh, and take this jackass off my hands, would ya?” He shoved one meaty hand into his pocket. Marcus’s medallion dangled from a fistful of gold chain. “I put this thing on when I got here, thinkin’ it might fix my situation, see? But this asshole wouldn’t stop yammering in my ears about how there’s no honor in theft or some shit. Who the hell is this guy? Sounds like he works at one of those renaissance fairs where—”
I snatched the medallion and slipped the chain over my head. “You deserved that. Don’t jack my shit, Frank.” The medallion settled against my chest, pulsing with a gentle warmth. “Marcus?”
Hail, Victoria! At last, we are reunited!
A big smile spread across my face before I could help myself. “Good to hear you again, old man. You won’t believe this, but I think I actually missed you.”
As you should have. Had I known you were gallivanting off to have such adventures, I would not have allowed you to leave me behind.
“In hindsight, that was not the best idea,” I admitted. “That’s my bad. From now on, you and I are inseparable. I promise. But how did you know I was having adventures? I could’ve been sitting around in a jail cell this whole time.”
Please, Victoria. You act as though I have learned nothing of your character in the time we have spent together.
“That’s fair,” I said. Frank was staring at me slack-jawed. I looked away from him.
Also, I was able to view your memories when you donned the medallion again. It is a side effect of this condition, as it were. I saw that bumbling thief’s, as well.
“Oh, really.” I turned back to Frank. “Hold that thought. That might prove useful in a minute.”
“What?” Frank glanced around nervously. He was already sweating. “What are you lookin’ at me like that for? I said I was sorry, didn’t I? I wasn’t gonna steal that crackpot, whoever he is. He sounds like a damn nutcase.”
“Calm down, Frank,” I told him. “No one’s accusing you of anything for once. And now that you’ve given me the amulet, I’d love to know what happened to you. Maybe there’s still a way I can help.”
“You think?” he asked. “Fine. Look, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, girlie. All those bleeding bastards are good as dead to me.” He tugged on his suit and lumbered past me to park it on the sofa. The whole frame shuddered beneath his considerable weight.
If he is lying, I will know, said Marcus. And I will make sure he is punished for his deceit.
“Let’s hear him out before we condemn him to Hell.” I looked at Frank. “Okay. Start at the beginning.”
Chapter Eleven
Frank reclined on my couch, hands folded over his potbelly. The shirt he wore underneath his suit jacket used to be light colored, but now it was streaked with old, rusty bloodstains and who knew what else. The remains of a tie hung like a carcass around his neck. He cleared his throat. “When was the last time we met? At that dive, yeah? That shithole so dark you can barely see your hand in front of your own damn face?”
“Yeah. I think I threatened to bash your nuts in with a glass, or something.”
He shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. “You ain’t the first gal to say that, and you probably won’t be the last.” He sat up and cracked his neck from side to side. “All right, where was I? After you beat it out of there, I left too. Got sick of sitting around inhaling other people’s leftover cigs. I had a lot to think about, you know? I was startin’ to consider the possibility that I wasn’t much of a family man after all, if you get my drift. The thing is, when it’s all you know, it’s all you know. Freedom meant, what? The streets? Do I look like I could make it as a bum?”
I chose not to answer directly. “What happened?”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m getting there. Patience is a virtue you could stand to learn, girlie.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “All of mine gets used up by you calling me ‘girlie.’”
Frank’s face blanched, and his chins briefly doubled as he retreated into himself. “I get you,” he acknowledged. “I’ll watch it, okay? Anyhow, I made my way outta the joint, mindin’ my own business, eyes on the horizon, and all of a sudden, this gang jumps me!” He threw up his hands, ratty sleeves flapping like wings. “It was an ambush, I tell you! They were waiting to get me! Everybody knows old Frank hangs out at the shittiest bar in town, so they staked me out.”
“You know who they were?” I pulled out a chair from my table and sat down in it, facing him. I had told the guy he wasn’t being accused of anything, and that was still true, but the conversation was already starting to feel like an interrogation. Frank was possessed of a preternatural ability to know more than he should, even when he didn’t intend to. I was determined to squeeze every last bit of intel out of his greasy pores.
“Couldn’t tell you. They put a fuckin’ bag over my head, if you can believe that. Treated me like a terrorist. I thought I was headed for the damn firing squad.” He grimaced. “I don’t know if I knew them, but they sure knew me. Not even a second of hesitation before they were on me like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I guess they must have put me in a car or a van or something. All I know is, we drove for a while. Took a bunch of turns. They didn’t talk to me, and they didn’t let me see shit until we got where we were going.”
“Then what? They took off the bag?” It sounded to me like he might have been taken to Lorcan’s slaughterhouse, but if that was the case, why the secrecy? Frank was the one who’d tipped me off about the slaughterhouse in the first place. And I definitely hadn’t seen him there.
“Yeah. Threw me in front of a bunch of cops. Firing squad for sure, I figured. But then some lady showed up. It was pretty obvious she was the boss around there.” He fell silent for a moment. “Kinda sexy, kinda creepy. She made this noise like—what do you call those things? Maracas?” He made a shaking motion with both hands that sort of undercut the gravity of his story. “I never seen her before, but she knew what she was doing. She’s the one who gave me the blood.”
“Hmm.” I leaned forward. The woman Frank described sounded like the same one I’d just met on the rooftops. In our brief exchange, she had mentioned neither Lorcan nor any blood. Was it possible she was the one Jules overheard Lorcan discussing? Some of the pieces were b
eginning to fall into place, though it felt like I was still missing about three-quarters of the puzzle. “How’d she give it to you?” I mimed the act of stabbing a syringe into my arm.
He shook his head. “She made me swallow it. Again: kinda sexy, kinda creepy. Though at that point, mostly creepy.” He shivered a little, thinking about the encounter. “I felt that stuff take hold. It’s like a stranger breaking into your house, killing you, then bringing you back to life. Only the house is your mind, and there’s nothing you can do.” Frank wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His eyes were haunted, his voice down to a husky whisper.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” I said, and I meant it. “I saw what they were doing in the slaughterhouse. I never would have wished it on you.”
“I know.” He managed a sick smile. “You’re just doin’ your job. I know.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “She kicked me into a hole. I don’t remember too much about this part except… except it was a human landfill in there, gir—Vic. I can’t even picture it for the life of me. All I can hear is the screaming.” Frank’s skin was an almost translucent grey, dotted with beads of sweat. He looked so awful I wondered if he was going to keel over and die right on my couch.
“Yeah.” That was all I could think to say. Luckily, it seemed to be enough to jog him out of the post-traumatic rut.
“Don’t even know how long they kept me down there. I just know I finally climbed out of that hell tonight. Me and some of the others.” He shook his head. “A lot of them died. I knew—sure I knew—but it’s different when you look over your shoulder, and there’s a whole…” He trailed off. “You ever been to a scrap metal yard for old cars? It was like that, only every car was a human. Used to be a human.” He stared at a spot on the wall. “Can you believe there’s a part of me that wanted this?” He gestured vaguely to his body.