by S T Branton
I should have expected him to try this tactic, but it still stung. The boundaries of our relationship shifted with every word he spoke, from more or less equals to an officer and a criminal. Yet another thing for which I couldn’t blame him—he was only trying to do his job as well as he knew how. But it said to me that he still didn’t really understand the situation at its core. Nor did he understand me as a person if he thought that was going to work.
“No,” I told him. “I get where you’re coming from and that you’re trying to look out for me, but that’s not something I can do. I have to be free for as long as it takes for me to finish this.”
“I hope you can finish it quickly,” he answered. “Because…everyone’s on to you. I’m not sure how long you thought you could pull this off, but time’s almost up. That’s why I’m giving you a way out. Come in now, and you’ll have a lot more options. I’ll be here. We can take as long as we want to work things out.”
“I’m sorry, Deacon. I can’t. This is too important.”
“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you soon anyway.” Another heavy pause. “Good luck with whatever it is you’re trying to do. I hope you get it done before we come to get you. I don’t think you’ll have another chance for a long time. If ever.”
I stiffened. That was as close as he had ever come to a genuine threat, and although he had a right to be pissed, it felt uncalled for. But it also solidified the fact that I might have been reaching the end of the line, heading down a dead-end street. As long as the world remained reasonably civilized around me, I couldn’t keep committing crimes at will and expect not to get caught. Didn’t matter if my definition of a crime had changed a whole lot in the past few weeks.
I had a different perspective.
“Thanks, I guess.” I gave him a wry smile that he couldn’t see. “I’ve gotta go. There’s some stuff I need to take care of.”
“Be careful, Vic. I fully expect to bring you in alive.”
I was smiling for real as I hung up the phone. We were adversaries again, but he didn’t have to say that. It was a weirdly pleasant feeling to know that the enemy cared.
How are you feeling, Victoria?
“I don’t know.” I rested my head against the wall. “Like, this shit sucks like crazy, right? And I really wish the thing in the mayor’s office had ended a different way. But at the same time, I know what I have to do, and that’s reassuring in a way. None of the aftermath matters as much as kicking Lorcan’s shit in. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
A commendable decision. I will be with you the whole way.
“Actually… you won’t be.” I opened the apartment door and peeked in to see Maya asleep on the couch, wrapped in every blanket I owned. The exhaustion was etched deeply into her face. She didn’t even budge as I made my way in.
That was good. It would make this next part a little easier.
What do you mean?
“I mean Deacon’s right, Marcus. The net’s closing in. I can’t just run from the law forever. And right now, they think I killed the mayor of New York City. They will stop at nothing to find and catch me.” I glanced out the window at the distant downtown skyline. “My luck could still hold out, but maybe this will be my last stand. I figure I can at least take Lorcan down before they haul me off to prison or take me down in the street. Let’s be honest, most of those cops are intending to place me in cuffs, right? I just need to get to Lorcan first. One less god is one less.”
I am still only partially understanding.
I tapped my finger on the medallion. “If I get arrested, you can bet they’ll confiscate this. And then what? You spend however long in a box in some storage room? You have to stay on the outside and hold down the fort, my friend. Which means I have to leave you here, with Maya.”
Ah. He sounded informed, but not particularly happy. This is an understandable concern, but I have no reason not to believe you will fully prevail, as always. Perhaps you are overcautious in your preparations for theoretical circumstances.
“I wish. But I don’t think so this time. Look, jail isn’t the end of the world, but we’d be screwed if I lost this medallion. So, the best thing for you to do is stay with Maya until we know for sure how things are going to go down.”
I will worry for you.
I chuckled grimly. “I’ll be all right. You trained me, didn’t you?
I have done my best.
“Your best is a pretty damn good job.” I found a piece of scrap paper, sat down at the table with that and a pen, and tried to think of what to tell Maya. It seemed like she knew, at least on the surface, what I was facing if I went to the slaughterhouse, and I took that as an excuse not to spell it out directly. I’d never been one for either serious dramatics or really sappy stuff.
Still, I wanted her to know how much I valued her help and her companionship, the microcosm of it that I got to experience. When I went to Washington for the sake of hunting down Namiko’s lead, the last thing I expected to come home with was a friend. And yet, here we were, she was dead asleep on my couch and me getting a little choked up as I searched for the right words to say.
Maya—
I’m sorry not to wake you, but I’m leaving, and it’s possible I’ll be gone for a while. Like, maybe a long, long while. I’m facing Lorcan alone, and win or lose there’s no way I can hold off the cops. So I wanted to take the opportunity to let you know how rad you are and how nice it’s been to fill up this junky old loft for a little bit. Take care of the place for me, will you? And take care of Marcus. I’m leaving him with you. I hope I’ll get to come back, but if I don’t, you two will need each other. And so will the rest of the world.
Thank you for fighting. Thank you for staying. Thanks for being my friend.
Vic
My letter finished, I folded it up and left it on the table, inking her name on the outside. She’d see it whenever she woke up, but a part of me hoped that wouldn’t be awake for a while. It would be better if there was some distance between us first.
Or maybe that was just me.
I put my hands on the chain around my neck. “Okay, buddy. I guess this is it.”
For now.
“Your optimism never fails to impress me.” I smiled. “Goodbye, Marcus. Thank you for everything. I would have been lost without you, in every sense of the word.”
Nonsense. And you are not lost now. I will see you very soon.
“Watch out for Maya. Go easy on her. She’s not a tough old bitch like me. Not yet, anyway.”
We will wait for your return together.
“Or you can save me a spot in there with you.” I squeezed the medallion tightly against my palm. “Technically, you’re not my ancestor, so we should be able to use that loophole to look after Maya, right?”
There will be no need for it. I promise you.
I didn’t say anything else as I lifted the chain over my head. There were no more words left, other than the goodbye I’d already said. The medallion settled beside the letter on the table, and I looked at them, then at Maya, still sleeping soundly in her blanket burrito.
How final it seemed. I’d like to say it was easy to turn my back and walk out the apartment door, to pull it shut behind me and hear the lock engaging.
I’d like to say that, but I’d be lying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The route to the slaughterhouse manifested as a surreal flashback to the beginning, when I had absolutely no clue of the depth of the rabbit hole I’d fallen into. The last time I rode the bus to the edge of the Meatpacking District, I had still been consumed by thoughts of Rocco Durant, who would soon be dead by my hand.
I had a feeling Lorcan wouldn’t go down so easily.
The bus let me out on a corner, and I started to walk down a stretch of sidewalk that looked more desolate than it had before. Up ahead was the trendy café and the bodega where I hid from the eyes of Rocco’s guards, but they might as well have belonged to a whole other realm. That was the day I saw
Delano for the first time, the day Marcus had come to drag my ass back home before I screwed everything up beyond recognition.
Marcus had been alive not so long ago. “Man,” I whispered. “How could things have changed so fast?”
My whisper was drowned out by the purr of a nice car pulling up alongside the curb. I purposely kept my gaze averted until I realized it was keeping effortless pace with me, its tinted black windows impenetrable to the naked eye. As I finally turned to glance at it, one of the back panes rolled down.
“Hello, Vic,” said the man smoking a hand-rolled cigarette in the back seat. “Get in.”
My first instinct was panic, but it was quickly overridden by the innate knowledge that I couldn’t disobey this guy. He operated on a level I still struggled to comprehend, and he knew more about the Forgotten than anyone I’d ever met. He also had a direct line to Deacon. That alone gave him more leverage than most, as much as I hated to admit it. I stepped toward the curb. The Lincoln slid to a stop.
The inside of the town car was dim, and it smelled equally of newness and smoke from the man’s cig. He had his hat on too, pulled down low to cast a shadow over his eyes. Now I saw he had a glass in one gloved hand, and he was swirling an amber liquid with rocks. Scotch? Bourbon? Either way, it was pretty strong.
“Did you know I’d be here?” I asked. “Or were you just passing through?”
“I never do anything unintentionally,” the man said. “I sensed that you were in need, and I have come to offer something that might bolster you as you go on to confront your fate.”
“Thanks, but I’m a little beyond needing liquid courage these days.”
“Oh, I know. You have courage enough for ten heroes.”
I smiled despite myself. “Well since you know so much, you know I have somewhere to be,” I said. Maybe I was being a little too acerbic, but I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his games. If he had some new intel, that was all I wanted.
“Yes,” he said. “You are heading into the darkness. And it seems you are doing it alone.”
I rubbed my face. “If you’re going to try and talk me into coming in with you, don’t bother. Deacon already tried that. It didn’t work for him, and it won’t work for you.”
A smile entered the man’s voice. “He would try that, wouldn’t he? On the contrary, I want to hand you a pearl of wisdom, which is as follows: We are all ‘good,’ those of us who fight on the side against the gods. But not all of the ‘good’ ones can work in the light, so to speak. There are many necessary courses of action for which the book does not allow. Eliminating a shapeshifter in the guise of an elected official, for instance.”
“So, you know about that,” I said.
“Naturally. I have lived it myself, after all. Perhaps not that exact scenario, but one like it enough that I understand its intricate nuances. Decisions must be made in a fraction of a second that affect the whole remainder of your life.”
“Yeah. And I know I made the right one, but no one else sees it that way.”
“As long as you know, that’s what matters.” He took a sip from his drink.
“Even if I have to spend my life in jail because of it?”
“You’ll be lucky if you end up in jail. The odds are much more likely that you’ll be taken down, by the Bureau or the Forgotten. I suspect you know this already. It is the price we all pay for agreeing to be heroes. But I wanted to give you some peace of mind—we will not forget your deeds.”
I examined him as thoroughly as I could in the dim light. “Can I ask you something now? Who’s we? Are there more people who know about this?”
“More than you think. But it does not seem wise to discuss it now. Let us talk after your victory.”
“Oh, so you’re motivational, too?”
The man signaled to his driver, who made a turn and slowed down. I noticed we were back on the street where they picked me up in almost exactly the same spot. “Call it faith, motivation, whatever you want,” he said. “The conclusion is the same. Should you live to see another fight, your strength will be a crucial addition to the cause, and we will inevitably meet again.” The door locks disengaged. He raised his glass slightly. “Mult noroc.” I lifted my brow. “It’s good luck, in an old tongue.”
I stepped onto the sidewalk and heard the window open again. “One more piece of advice.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” I said.
“Lorcan’s power has mainly been in perception. But perhaps he’s bought into his own lie. Don’t you believe it too.”
And with a nod, the black car purred off into the distance. I didn’t know what to think. Most of me hadn’t expected to hear from or see that guy ever again after the meeting in Central Park, so his reappearance left my head spinning. It wasn’t the best mindset to be in on my way to see Lorcan, so I shoved the whole encounter down to be dealt with later. Right now, I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
And the prize was one dead god.
***
The slaughterhouse’s boxy, rough façade rose up along the street, looking much the same as it had the first time I’d infiltrated it. I crossed to the opposite side of the road to try and get a good look at it on my first pass. The broken windows had been fixed and so had all the doors. They looked new now, no doubt adorned with the latest security trappings. From my vantage point, I could see cameras stationed every few feet along the front and sides, all the way up to the roof.
Clearly, Lorcan had learned from his underlings’ mistakes.
I slipped my hand onto my belt and felt for the hilt in its sheath. My neck felt naked without Marcus. A deep, stabilizing breath chased the worries out of my brain, at least for the time being.
“You and me,” I said to the sword. “Come on. Let’s do this.”
But something felt distinctly off as I stalked toward the building, my body angled low toward the old familiar garbage alley. If Lorcan was really here in the flesh, shouldn’t he have come with a pretty impressive security detail? I glanced toward the medallion, half waiting for Marcus to offer an answer, but of course, he couldn’t. The medallion wasn’t there, and neither was my friend.
Maybe Lorcan thought he didn’t need extra security, what with the whole “being a god” thing. After tonight, he’d change his mind—assuming he was still alive.
The alley on the left still reeked of trash, flies still buzzed around the row of open dumpsters. “Good to know some things don’t change,” I muttered, flattening myself against the wall. The stench was powerful, but it was actually not a bad thing to have on my side for the time being. The odds of a smelly dumpster haven being thoroughly monitored were in my favor. I crouched low to the ground, listening around the corner for voices, radio chatter, doors or windows opening and closing. Any signs of life, really.
I heard none. “That’s not right.”
Either Frank’s information was bad, or I was missing something, and for some reason, I was much more willing to bet on the former. The place just gave me an eerie sensation. I slid closer, craning my neck around the corner. The doors stood silent and apparently unguarded except for the eyes of the cameras.
I pulled back to weigh my options. Throwing caution to the wind and booking it was always on the table, but in all likelihood, the doors were locked and all I’d get for my efforts was an ambush of enemies. I could try to take out the cameras first and proceed from there, but some were probably hidden, and I had no idea what would happen if they had motion sensors rigged to an alarm or something. Again, probably asking for an ambush.
Not that I couldn’t handle a rush of opponents. One of the major things I’d learned from Kronin’s weapon was that a big-ass sword did pretty damn well against multiple opponents. So that plan was still an option.
Considering this, I moved subconsciously to a crouching position. Down low, away from the open tops of the dumpsters, the flies buzzing in my ear weren’t quite so loud. Instead, I heard the soft scuff of shoes on the dirty concrete.
&nb
sp; I froze and held my breath. Another scuff. Taking a peek would involve peeling myself off the wall and potentially exposing my body as a target, so I opted to stay where I was and just keep my ears open. At first, I thought it was only one pair of feet, but then another gait developed behind the first, and another. These assholes always had to travel in packs.
Working slowly and quietly, I eased the Gladius Solis off my belt, holding it in my lap. Now I could sense the energy of the blade somewhere inside, humming with anticipation, waiting for my call. It warmed gradually under my hand. I traced its ornate decoration with my thumb. A habit that had grown over the past months.
The vampires came closer. I heard them breathing, and I thought for sure they were going to stop and find me, but they just kept going toward the open end of the alley. As they passed me in a line, I noticed that the one closest to me lagged behind a little bit and that the side of his left foot dragged on the ground.
Like a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti. How he’d been injured, I didn’t care. It was enough that he was slower, that he’d be easier to take down in a flash. If I was lucky, his death would stun his friends, and then they wouldn’t bother me for longer than a couple minutes.
I pounced once his back was completely turned, bracing the edge of my sword against his throat. He gasped. “What the f—”
“Hey, Manny, shut up,” said one of the guys in front, without even turning around. “We already told ya, we’ll kill you if you keep whining. You’re nuts if you think the bosses will care that your ass is missing.”
Manny made a truly pitiful choking sound, fighting to get air in his lungs. His bum leg collapsed under our combined weight, and during our short fall to the earth, I adjusted my chokehold for maximum effectiveness. He stared up at me with glassy, uncomprehending eyes, his lips turning blue.
“Manny, for Pete—” The douchebag finally realized Manny’s footsteps had stopped, and he turned around. “Hey! That’s our punching bag!” He drew his gun. “Back off, lady. I ain’t afraid to kill ya.”