Box Set: The Fearless 1-3

by Terry Maggert

  “What?” He knew that tone. She was projecting, but reining her instincts from straying too wildly.

  “He’s awake. I think we know it’s him, based on the description in the database, so for now, there’s no loss in operating on the pretense that a fully lethal, incredibly old immortal has risen and is on the move.” She paused and leaned against the door frame in quiet contemplation. For a long moment, only the hum of traffic broke the silence. “After we see which direction he’s going, I think we can ask some important questions.” She held up a finger at his quirked brow. “One. Where is he going?” That was obvious, so she plunged on without pausing. “Two. What woke him? Not who, but what? An event, I think, but what kind of event?” He shook his head slowly, and waved her to continue. “Three. Is his awakening related to these three new players, and if so, how? Do we consider them to be threats?”

  There was a considerable amount of uncertainty within each of those questions, let alone all of them taken in aggregate. He squared his shoulders and looked at the time. “I’ll take care of the store today, and then I’ll start researching the hunters. You follow the killer?”

  She nodded and turned away, her feet on the stairs in seconds. Two people, two jobs, and many questions, but that was what they did. They watched, listened, and answered questions.

  It was going to be quick and easy. He could feel it.

  8

  Florida

  “We’re glad to have you. Did you say you had maintenance experience?” Kevin appraised the serious young man before him. He certainly didn’t have the look or bearing of a person in need, but looks were often deceiving, and the church made no judgments when extending a hand.

  “Sort of. I’ve been using tools since I was a kid, but I’ve never fixed air conditioning units or anything like that,” the new volunteer said, looking around at the grounds. “Smaller things? Very much so.” He smiled then, an expression that didn’t reach his large, dark eyes. There was wariness there, and a bit of sadness. That was something Kevin had seen all too often, and even in the brilliant sunshine, there was a shadow over the man.

  “Let’s see . . .” Kevin began, pensive. “How about we take a look around the parish buildings, maybe see if there’s any touch-up painting, just to get your feet wet?”

  “Sure.” The answer was simple, but not in an unkind voice. It was an awkward moment. One man was admitting he needed help, and another was in the process of making it seem as if it was the most natural thing in world to be homeless and devoid of options. The balancing act, melding kindness and a deft touch, was where Kevin’s true heart shone through, and soon, they walked companionably across the walkway near the enormous ficus tree.

  “Mrs. Chase said your name is Davis?” It was an introduction to speak, more so than a statement of fact.

  “Mm-hmm,” he said tersely, but explained, “everyone calls me Red. And I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, I’m—well, it’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I know, it can be. “ Kevin knew it wasn’t the grounds he referred to, but his state of disrepair as a human. “Trust me when I say that your dignity, as well as your spiritual well being, are paramount to me. To all of us here.” Even as he said it, he could see that Davis—Red, he corrected himself, accepted it as fact. Little victories. Thank you, Lord. “How do you find your quarters, Red?”

  “Fine. Better than fine,” he clarified. “After being on the road, it’s nice. She’s a very sweet lady.” Davis truly was thankful. He needed to be here, stable. Close by. Invisible.

  Kevin hesitated. “How long were you traveling?”

  “Three months, so not long, really, but it was hard. I’d never been—well, I’ve been away from my, my home I guess, for six months, but I’ve never been lost, really. Until now.” Davis finished, quietly.

  Kevin patted his arm. “You’re not lost anymore, Red.”

  Davis smiled, thinking of the gritty nights and days he’d spent getting here. The stinking trucks, aching feet. The assault near Pensacola, and dodging the cops, and junkies, and what seemed like endless walking. All in the name of anonymity. And planning. He smiled, a deeply genuine expression, cryptic and sour. “No, I guess I’m not lost any more, not even a little bit. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  9

  Malta

  Another week, perhaps, and then I will be forced to take my rest during the day. He shook his head slightly in disgust at his own limitations, but then, it would only be a temporary issue. For a being of his powers, impediments were gateways between states, rather than a permanent form of existence. He would live with the minor inconvenience on his way to a restoration of his true self, and when that happened, he would be terrible to behold. Looking around, he decided that the colors of the waterfront were too garish for his tastes, but in his heart, he remained a soldier who placed a premium on practicality rather than pomp. Let the peacock strut. He would remain unobtrusive for now, just as he always had been on the battlefield. Weapons, skill, and bravery held sway over ostentatious shows of wealth or martial presence, or at least they had throughout his long existence. Watching the bustle of tourists, he begrudged the designers of the area their pretenses. Results mattered, and the throngs of visitors indicated that perhaps, in this instance, he was wrong. People were blissfully unaware of threats, and they responded to color and flash like simpletons, wandering about without care or caution.

  There is much to like in these areas, I think. How easy the feeding can be when the cattle do not know the pasture is gone, and they walk the abattoir ramp. He sipped at his water and admired the condensation on the glass for a moment, then squeezed the wedge of lime between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It offered no resistance, and only the slightest hint of sourness. His palate was shifting drastically, and he needed to find another boat heading west, but this time, it would be a slightly different type of vessel.

  Needs must, he thought, as a lithe woman walked past him, chattering idly with a local who pursued her doggedly into a shop nearby. He marked both of their scents with a single, deep inhalation, memorizing the distinct aromas, and then turning back to stare at the water, a complacent smile on his lips.

  Glancing at the sun, he estimated three hours until sunset. There was time enough for a search in the harbor, perhaps another drink, and then he could revisit the pair who brushed past him earlier. Their scent was still ripe in his nose, and he was certain they would not stray very far, as the waterfront was beautiful. Yes, they would stay close by, he mused, for bright colors and bustle would keep the cattle occupied until dusk.

  Then, with the salt air and cool of night to season his prey, he would feed.

  10

  Florida

  I was listlessly washing the cars in the driveway when Wally came outside with my phone in her hand. Her expression was somewhere between irked and smug, which confused me, but put me on guard. I know when to brace for impact.

  “Hmph. I will not waste my time so I will tell you Delphine is here. She is at the airport and she wants to come over to make nice with us or something.” Wally delivered the news without pause and then stood, waiting for my reaction.

  “Okay?” I hedged.

  “Well? Just okay? Don’t you think you should say something more than that?” Her hands went to her hips. I stopped adding soap to the bucket and stood, sighing.

  “I don’t know what to say, but I’m not surprised. What if she’s here to see Kevin?” I offered, reasonably. After leaving us, and receiving Kevin’s spiritual guidance, I knew she would return, because I was convinced of her sincerity at wanting to save her own soul. My practical nature also expected her to have a period of mourning, or recovery, because nobody can spend a month in a stinking well with nothing but their ghosts and come out of it unscathed. Wally knew it, too, because her face softened and she tossed her head, snorting.

  “Fine, she can come over, I kind of even miss her. But this time I think Risa and I will take her to get drunk and buy t
hings instead of letting her fuck you in the car for her therapy.” Her announcement was final, so I knelt, smiling, to finish my task and thought that for Wally, this was progress indeed.

  “Hey, slim,” I called after her, “call Kevin and make sure he knows she’s here. I want him to be available for her. I think he would want to know, too.”

  Wally’s face went softer still, and she nodded. For all her bluster, she understood that there were only certain ways to mitigate pain, and for Delphine, there was a tidal wave of regret to overcome before she would allow herself to truly feel human again.

  11

  Virginia

  “What have you got?” he asked, and folded his hands while waiting for her to speak. She stood against the counter of the shop, uncaring of being overheard since they were closed.

  Turning her laptop to him, she said, “West. It’s certain. He was in Malta, at the Valletta Waterfront.”

  The image was the product of intense, intimate violence. Two bodies, a man and a woman, both young and strong, were . . . they were nearly pulverized, yet free of bruising. Every bone had been broken and the corpses had a sickly, blanched pallor that bespoke their complete lack of blood. The male still had a surprised expression on his face, so swift had his murder happened, but the girl was an entirely different story. Her eyes were lidded with lust, her lips parted, and a lassitude still lingered on her features, which had been, until very recently, beautiful, vibrant, and young. Now she resembled a hard-bitten woman of the streets that had died in the middle of some unsavory act which brought her pleasure and shame all at once. She’d been robbed of more than her blood, and there was something else missing, several things, really, but at first blush, she seemed like nothing more than a drug user that had run afoul of the world she lived in.

  Except she wasn’t. “What’s wrong with her? He looks, well, just dead, drained, but she looks . . .” She trailed off, uncertain. This wasn’t quite like anything they had seen before, and that made it automatically bad. New things among the immortals weren’t just problematic; they were the type of problems that could lead to unanswered questions, which in turn led to deaths.

  He shrugged, but slowly. “A succubus would have left the blood. A vamp wouldn’t leave a body, not unless it had supreme control, but if I had to guess, it almost looks like she was drugged.”

  “Poisoned?” She snapped, but then asked again, more courteously, “Poisoned? But, why? Have we seen anything that poisons someone to be eaten, or fed from? It doesn’t make sense, even if the creature administering the venom is immune. You know how sensitive their palates are.” That was very true. Protecting the bouquet of human victims was a gruesome fact that they had deduced from their research. “I wonder. What would poison the well it was going to drink from?” She shook her head to clear it. “We both better look into that, but I think it’s obvious he’s using pleasure boats to get around, now. The ports he’s been at have been less commercial, which narrows down some of the potential locations for his next stops.”

  He nodded in agreement. The islands where pleasure craft went were often different from the seagoing ports where trade goods were exchanged. Whether that would help them in predicting his path, and maybe his destination, remained to be seen, especially considering the fact that finding him did not equate to stopping him.

  “What have you got on the three hunters?” he asked, brusquely.

  She squatted against the wall. The sun had set, and the mountains loomed like dark gray shoulders outside the storefront as the first evening mists began to wend down the hillsides. Rocks glistened in the occasional car lights from the road, and birds called their last declarations of the day before resting. It was cooling off quickly, and the denser air meant that the susurration of the river could be heard as a background to their conversation. It made for a peaceable moment, something that had been too rare in their lives since the death of their parents ten years earlier.

  “I found them easily enough, it’s not like they’ve been hiding,” she began, “and they are most certainly not amateurs, nor do I think that they’re working with an immortal.”

  “What makes you think that?” He was curious. She sounded adamant, and for all their spats, he knew she had good instincts.

  “Let’s start with who they’ve eliminated. I did a little cross-checking; it was actually really simple since they don’t seem to even understand that killing immortals gets you noticed. I was able to find several notable names that they have removed from the database in the last two years alone. It’s stunning.” Her tone was admiring.

  “Big names?” His brow went up at her admission.

  “Bigger than anyone we’ve ever seen taken down around here. For supposed beginners, they’re pretty fucking good. I found a message board reference to them taking not one, but two warlocks at once, and then, no further mention of it.” He whistled appreciatively and motioned her to go on. She began ticking kills off on her fingers, and said, “They tracked and killed a ghoul that was working the port area in Fort Lauderdale. It was two centuries old, and yet, there was only a passing reference to it by another hunter who tipped them off to something big out in Kansas. They’ve killed at least a dozen or more succubus, at least three vamps, a witch, and some sort of grief eater that I’ve never even heard of before. But their crowning gem was one of the names that has been on the network since the very beginning.” She paused, and when he frowned at her, she said one word. “Elizabeth.”

  “Holy. Shit. Those crazy fucks. Was it a random kill?” His voice was soft with amazement. Elizabeth had been high on the list of wanted immortals, and no one had the balls to chase her. Until these three, apparently, and they not only found her, they ended her reign of terror without seeing fit to trumpet the news. Who were these people?

  Shaking her head, she said, “Total stalk and set up. There’s a guy in Atlanta that says he knows the whole story, says he got it from a Helper whose master is trying to go straight or some such bullshit, but it sounds too detailed and real to be faked. They don’t have three killers, there are two women, one man, and the guy does the wet work, up close with a knife.”

  “A knife?” His voice cracked with astonishment. “Seriously? Who the hell would get close enough to Elizabeth for knife work? What are we dealing with here?”

  “I think they’re badasses, for one thing, but they also live together, as in, like, live together.” Her tone was more curious than disapproving. They were a complete anomaly. Hunters, in their experience, did not play well together.

  He exhaled a pent-up breath and drummed his fingers on the counter. “What do you want to do? We know that we can’t handle this one coming west, and no one else is available. Do we reach out?

  She thought it over and nodded, “Through email, of course, but we know they’ve got the balls to kill top shelf immortals. Maybe just a picture of him and a crime scene, to judge their interest?” It was a risk, but it was minimal, given the circumstances.

  “Right. Two photos, and whatever info we have on the one coming our way. Let’s see if they want more after that,” he said with finality, because there really wasn’t anything else to do.

  They needed to know who these three were. Soon.

  12

  From Risa’s Files

  To:RRW@HardiganCenter.net

  Sender: Chanticleers@REDACTED

  You don’t know me, but we have learned a little about you. Fair warning, you’ve popped up (all three of you, actually) after taking Elizabeth out, and I don’t think you understand how dangerous it is to be highly visible. Immortals are vengeful, which is something you must already know, so that means you’re either naïve or such badass killers that you just don’t care.

  Something very bad is coming west. He woke, or was awoken, after Elizabeth died. There are some obvious questions to ask regarding the circumstances of why he is heading in our direction, but more on that later.

  For now, you should understand a few facts about what he is. We know
about the variety of kills you’ve had, and I won’t lie, the elimination of a major player like Elizabeth is impressive. I don’t know how you did it with a knife, but it took balls of steel and you should be congratulated. However, as dangerous a creature as she may have been, she was a kitten compared to what we are tracking right now.

  I’m sending crime scene photos, hacked from an Interpol server. These are two of the twelve victims (that we know of) since his awakening. I should make it known that this is a being who is just getting warmed up. Don’t confuse him with a simple vamp or a trash level demon; he is older than Elizabeth, and capable of far more than just killing. We saw evidence of his work in Ethiopia, Darfur, and the Sudan over the last twenty years. Don’t think of this as a local threat. Think regionally, globally. The only thing that stopped him in the past were teams of highly skilled hunters, all of whom have never been heard from since. What does that tell you? He’s lethal, but he can be hurt. He moves quickly, but not without mistakes. He is hungry, but not always for flesh and blood. We know more of him, but candidly, we don’t know or trust you, and if you’re smart, you shouldn’t trust us just yet, either.

  He’s covered a thousand miles in two weeks, and he is coming due west. We have our suspicions as to why, but that is something to be discussed later. Know that there are other hunters who would let him walk unmolested out of fear for their own lives, and perhaps, fear for their families. You three? I do not know what to think, but I suspect that you would not let such a creature move among us with impunity. Look at these photos, and judge for yourselves.

  It’s your move.

  13

  Florida