“Why do I feel like I should be apologizing?”
“Because a decent human being would,” he snipped out. “Kent, is somewhere he shouldn’t be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s on disciplinary for beating the shit out of someone last week in the showers.” At the mention of disciplinary I winced, that means confined to the Manor until an inquiry hearing. He should have been in the Manor not wherever he was. “I think he’s at… Abaddon.”
“Think?”
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at. I think his Sybil tried to scramble his signal, but I’m eighty percent sure.”
“Eighty percent isn’t high enough to get me to go pay Christian a visit.”
“Start heading out that way, I’ll see if I can clear this mess up before you get there.”
“Alright.” I sighed and started the car. “Davy, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your creepy encounter with the Anubis.”
“Thanks, Rosie. I know none of this is really your fault. It’s a shit deal for us both.”
“Hey, look at it this way. At least you don’t look like Frankenstein while naked?”
“Frankenstein was the doctor; the monster’s name was Adam.”
“Love you, too.” I cackled as I pulled off the interstate. “I’m half way to Abaddon any luck?”
“Yeah, he’s there. I got around whatever they were trying to do. My guess is they know someone is on to them.” Ya’ think?
“Grand, looks like I won’t be poisoning Emmanuelle’s coffee tomorrow.”
“How are you going to get her?”
“Sniper rifle.”
“That’s public.”
“And there’s no way in hell I’m engaging her up close. She’s deadly hand to hand and a legend with knives—I’m a pincushion already.” Maybe I could get Fiona to lure her into a trap?
“One problem at a time. If they know, my advice to you is to hit them all today. Saving her for last is probably your best bet anyway.”
“I’ll call you back when I finish with Kent.”
“Abaddon has cameras everywhere, let me help you.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t get chuffed up with me, missy!” He tittered as I heard the clacking of keys again. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Double fuck. How close are you?”
“I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”
“Get in there now, he’s in the below and shooting at Christian.” Shit.
When I pulled up, the first thing I saw was the door ajar and Phil laying passed out on the ground. I jumped out of the car, drew my gun and started toward the door—but first I checked Phil. He was bleeding but alive. Someone had knocked him over the head pretty good.
“Phil probably needs and ambulance,” I whispered as I started down those dark stairs.
Being in Abaddon without the tangibly throbbing industrial rock, or the sinister red neon lighting seemed surreal. I could hear the gunshots as I crept low through the hall.
“I see you there, Rosie. He’s in the Heaven room,” Davy’s voice made me jump a little. “Be careful.”
“Can you get into the PA system?”
“Yep.”
“I want you to turn the music on as loud as it goes when I tell you.” I pressed myself against the brick wall so hard I could swear I’d have the pattern sunken into my flesh when I moved. The door was solid metal with absolutely no way to see what was on the other side. “Davy, eyes.”
“Let’s see, we have a bunch of dead bodies on the floor, lots of blood everywhere—watch your step when you first enter—Christian is barricaded in the backroom, Kent is firing at the lock.”
“Alright, I really don’t want to get shot today.”
“You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”
“Famous last words.” I sighed. “When I open the door kill the lights and blast the music.”
“If you think that’s wise, it’s not like you have night vision goggles.”
“Just do it,” I hissed quietly.
“Fine.”
I kicked the door open. Kent, was a very a large man. Over six feet tall and easily pushing two hundred and fifty pounds of I-spend-too-many-hours-in-the-fucking-gym muscle. In short, he looked like he could have ripped my tiny ass in two like a phone book if he really wanted. Maybe I should have just shot him—ah well, too late now. The lights killed in an instant and Hugo’s bluegrass mix of 99 Problems started blaring so loud I even jumped, and I knew it was coming.
I darted into the room keeping low and then drop kicked, Kent. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, so he went down like a drunken prom date. Half-disoriented from the music and lack of light he fumbled for me like a virgin as I wrenched the gun from his mammoth grip. Before I could get it away from him, he emptied his clip into the ceiling. The muzzle flash illuminating the room and our faces in a stroboscopic effect leveled the playing field as far as the disorientation went—which was a bad thing.
Giant guy versus tiny woman had a bad habit of ending up with the woman losing. Unless of course, the smaller individual can get themselves in a position to use the other person’s strength and size against them. I wasn’t that lucky. He got his beefy arms around my neck, and that should have been it were it anyone else.
But I didn’t think like everyone else. I twisted my body away from him, and it might have taken two tries but I eventually donkey kicked him square in the crotch. He screamed and his grip loosened with the pain. Twisting away from him I drew my Pico and shot him twice from point blank range, once in the head and heart. The hiss and spatter of blood, brain and bone splattering the floor and far wall never sounded so sweet.
“Rose? Rose?” Davy had never sounded so panicked. I could barely hear him over the music, but I could taste the fear in his voice like oakiness in a fine chardonnay.
“I’m here, turn the music off and lights on.”
Almost immediately the lights came back up, and the music shut off, casting everything into a sort of eerie silence. Blinking into the newly returned illumination, I looked around. The room was a blood bath, Kent had shot people as they left the massive bed and headed for the door to Christian’s office. The painted metal was full of holes, and a large part of me didn’t want to knock. If curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of me I probably would have left, but I had to know why. Kent probably thought Christian could get him out of the city, was my number one guess.
The door opened as I raised my hand to knock, revealing Christian leaning heavily on the doorframe. He was holding his side, blood trailed from between his fingers, down to the waistband of his white silk boxers which were almost completely red with blood. I could tell from the amount of blood, and how he was moving that it was a silver bullet. Vampires, and various werebeasties couldn’t heal around it silver.
“Ninety-nine problems indeed,” Christian purred with a smirk, his voice sultry minus a bit of a pained warble to match the sweat that gathered on his brow.
“Are you going to tell me why he shot up your playmates? Or should I just go?”
“The naughty boy said he wished to leave and seemed to be convinced that I could get him out of the city without that pesky tracker in his neck registering. If you want more—”
“I know,” I cooed leaning close, so close I could smell the stink of others sex and blood on him mingling with the overwhelming copper of his blood and the musk of his cologne. We kissed, and he dropped his hand from his wound, I dipped my finger into the torn flesh, pressing into him until my finger grazed that cold piece of silver. He gasped and groaned with pleasure between ever more urgent kisses.
While he was distracted, I drew my Glock, pressed the muzzle to the wound, leveled it to the angle of first shot and fired. He jumped back and hissed.
“Remember what I told you, Christian? Never the fuck again.” I aimed the gun at his head. “I just did you a favor! Not only did I just warn you, but the shot was through and through; which means no more silver in the wound
, so I saved you a hospital visit. You’re welcome.”
He pursed his lips and ran his fingers back through those long inky tresses. His eyes didn’t read displeasure as much as they did frustration.
“He burst in and started shooting before he asked me about leaving. I believe his intent was to give me my final death once I gave him what he wanted.”
“And could you?”
“Could I get him out and disable his tracker?”
“No, could you fly him to the moon? Do I need to shoot you again?”
“Yes, I have the means, and know the right people who could have accomplished everything he asked.”
“If anyone else comes to you for help, I suggest polite refusal.”
“You didn’t ask the right question, my beautiful Rose.”
“What question is that?”
“Would I have helped him. The answer is no. I know who he works for.” Oh, yeah he knew and gave me a cryptic bullshit vampire answer instead of a direction one. “The rats are attempting to leave a sinking ship.”
“You knew about Thorn all along didn’t you?”
“I had my suspicions, heard whispers but I told you all I knew for certain; Isis left on her progress, and her Cult devolved into garbage. Going to shoot me again to punish me for being a naughty boy?”
“No, you’d like it too much.” He actually pouted when I put my gun back in its holster. “I have business to take care of.”
“You have other friends with similar connections, you know. I’d advise you to check in on them too.”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Yes, you do. Tabitha, Abagail, Fiona, Nathaniel, Cicero, David, and myself. You might not consider us friends, but our worlds would be a little less lovely without you in them.” He perched on the edge of the bed and smiled at me. His skin was now white as the remaining spot on those boxers which hadn’t yet been claimed by the creeping wash of blood.
“How—You know what. I don’t have time to tip toe around your labyrinthine language bullshit.” I started to leave.
“Be safe, lovely Rose. And happy hunting.”
“That guy is creepy as fuck,” Davy said.
“You’re still there?”
“And I saw it all on the monitor. Want me to check in on everyone?”
“Yeah, I’m going to grab lunch.”
“It’s only te—oh shit.”
“How bad of an oh shit is that? Can I go through drive thru and pick up a coffee or?”
“You have time. Someone was ripped in half at Merlin’s Beard.”
“Ripped in half, you say? By a jolly green giant or a red metal man?”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“I’ll find out on my own.”
****
It was when I was in the parking lot of Merlin’s Beard that I realized I was covered in a fine misting of blood. It had started raining again, and I was wearing mostly black, so all that was really noticeable was the smell and the stuff on my exposed skin. Using napkins, I cleaned myself off as best as I could and then let the freezing rain do the rest. The Van Ards were already on scene. They looked like FBI almost, the same dour expressions, bad suits, eye for preserving crime scenes and suspicious nature. All they were missing were laminates, badges and those dark blue windbreakers that read F.B.I in big, bold, block letters.
“Did one of the listers ping near here?”
“Uhh.” More clicking. “Yvan did 30 minutes ago.”
“How much do you want to bet he’s who got torn in half?”
“I don’t gamble, but I believe you’re correct, my dear.”
A slim woman in a gray wool pantsuit with dark curls met me at the door. She smiled one of the fake all too practiced smiles that some might have called professional—to me, it just looked like bad pantomime. Around her, I could see Tabs sitting in the corner with her cheeks tear stained. The super hero golem she had made at the beginning of the month was broken, laying lifeless at her feet. He had done his duty. The front counter was cover in blood and before it was a slender man with blonde hair, his body in two distinct separate halves with entrails dangling between.
“Your kind aren’t needed here,” the woman snapped at me, drawing my attention as she crossed her arms under her breasts. Oh, great one of those look-at-me-I’m-one-of-the-guys types.
“My kind?” My question made me smirk, the irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was bitching about kinds in my mind while she vocally assessed the same thing.
“Rose, play nice with the Van Ard lady,” Davy cautioned in my ear.
“You Shadows are just as bad as the monsters you kill.” She lifted her chin and literally glowered down her nose at me.
“The fuck did I do to you?”
“You tell me. It’s a member of your order dead in there. And one of your kind who put down our heir.”
“What do you expect me to say? I’m sorry you had to do your fucking job? Am I supposed to stand here and posture to you like some butt hurt twelve-year-old, or try to get on your good side? I get it, you need to act like a big bad bitch to everyone because those fuck faces in there can’t handle the fact that you have titties.”
“Walk away, Rose.” Davy groaned, interrupting my train of thought, attempting to fill the role of my conscience, but Jiminy Cricket he was not.
She opened her mouth, and I cut her off.
“You know what? Fuck this. I have better things to do.” I turned and walked back to my car.
“I’m so proud of you, Rosie. I feel like I should get you something for this somewhat grown up milestone in your life. You didn’t punch her in the face, this shows real personal growth.”
“Fuck you, Davy.”
“No thank you, Darling. So want another?”
“Sure.”
“Let's see. Oh, someone’s—”
I thought about what Christian said. “Someone’s at Knit Happens?”
“Yes, it would appear as though there was some truth to what that fangy creep told you.”
“Unfortunately,” I mumbled under my breath as I drove toward Knit Happens.
Twenty-Two
BEFORE I EVEN opened my car door, I heard the loud, distinctive bang of a large caliber handgun firing, and then a smaller caliber gun exchanging. I darted out of my car and into Knit Happens keeping low and close to the racks of yarn.
Inside, the shop was in shambles. Racks were toppled over, skeins were unraveled and laying on the floor. Blankets, usually carefully arranged in displays, were toppled and spattered with blood. Another loud bang, followed by that lower caliber follow up wrenched my attention from the splattered yarn, I clutched my Glock as I maneuvered around the displays.
“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Abby yelled before another loud bang sounded. “Stay still so I can shoot you!” She shouted and fired again. I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the chase that was taking place, someone had a bad limp.
I tracked both of them through the store, following the blood trail and moving slowly. Knit Happens was laid out like a ring with the hidden gun shop in the middle. I heard the scuffle before I intercepted it. The sound of a fast and brutal fight rang out through the shop, half-muffled as it bounced off the colorful yarn. The screams and yowls almost covered up the skidding of both guns across the floor, most wouldn’t have noticed it—but I did.
Abby was wrestling with a thin, tan woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Abby looked like she was winning, but was bleeding heavily on the floor. They were essentially fighting it out in a pool of Abby’s blood. I leveled my gun at the unknown woman’s head and stared down the plastic sights.
“Don’t!” Abby grunted. “Not on the—” Bang. I pulled the trigger and blood sprayed across the yarn the woman was standing in front of. “Premium Qiviut skeins.” She sighed and winced. “I had her you know.”
“Abby you need to put pressure on your leg.”
“And you need to pay me five thou
sand dollars for that yarn you just ruined,” she sassed, pressing her hand to the seeping wound on her thigh.
“Davy, did you—”
“Already have a team on the way to clean up and take care of Abby,” he cut me off.
“I’ll write you a check.”
“Motherfuck, this hurts more now than it did when she shot me,” Abby hissed.
“That’s the adrenaline wearing off. Did she say anything?”
“Yeah, she said those are almost two hundred dollars a skein.”
“The Order will reimburse you.” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, it better.” She grimaced, her lips looked a little purple. “She wanted out, and when I said I’m not in the business of helping people leave The Order of Shadows, she tried to threaten me with that tiny, little, plastic children’s toy you Shadows like to make-believe is a gun.” I didn’t point out that the toy, as she had called the other Shadow’s Glock, was the reason she was going to bleed out if the EMTs didn’t arrive soon. “She knew you were coming for her… mentioned you by name.”
I snapped my fingers. “Stay with me, Abby.” She looked out of it, her eyes were glassy and her pupils blown.
“They should be there any second,” Davy’s voice made me jump.
A handful of seconds later, I was jostled by The Shadow’s clinicians in their EMT gear, lugging a yellow painted stretcher as they made a B-line right for Abby. I stuck around until they took her away and the clean-up crew arrived to take care of the body.
“How many are left?”
“Three counting Emmanuelle.”
I groaned. “Is it lunch time yet?”
“Yes, it’s one-thirty.”
“Thank fuck.” I took my phone out of my back pocket. I had a few texts from Thorn; needy, clingy, I-love-you-so-much-I-want-to-wear-your-skin-like-a-suit texts, and an invite to lunch. “I’m going to grab lunch with Thorn.”
“Oh, to be a fly on the proverbial wall for that meal.”
“Why?”
“Because I think it might be the most awkward meal in history, you did just have a hand in offing three of his minions.”
Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1) Page 20