“Nobody gets in, and nobody gets out!” shouted Emanuel. “You can leave the mess in the bathroom for now. Phillip has proven unfit for guard duty, anyway. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking charge of the cleanup.”
Stomping feet. The sound of guns being cocked and loaded. Shouting. It got to Jack a little, amping up his nerves bit by bit. His heart felt like it was clipping against one of his ribs from how hard it was pounding in his chest.
He took a breath. He was a vampire. He was resistant to normal weapons, and he healed with enhanced speed. But there was no doubt in his mind that a determined group of mercenaries equipped with assault rifles could end him, purely through the virtue of how much ammo they had.
“You!” A feminine voice shouted almost in his ear, catching him completely off-guard. “Turn around!”
Jack winced. His hiding spot hadn’t been as good as he’d apparently thought it was.
He slowly turned around, lifting his hands in the air. A young, petite woman wearing a heavy ammo vest and carrying a rifle was holding him at gun point. Her eyes reflected the red alarm light and looked a little demonic, and it was a reminder to Jack of what his biggest advantage was.
“I was just…” He trailed off, not having the energy to bother with a passable excuse. Instead, he lashed out, casting Spectral Hand and using the tendril to pull the rifle’s barrel away from his head in a blur of motion. She fired once, but the shot went wide into the divider.
“Over there!” shouted someone else.
Jack ripped the gun loose from the girl’s hands, and tossed it aside. It wasn’t what he was interested in, and at that point, it had about as much chance of getting him out of the situation safely as a suicide vest. Instead, he took the girl, wrapping an arm around her neck and using his vampiric strength to hold her tightly as a human shield.
“I won’t hurt you as long as you stay quiet and don’t try anything,” whispered Jack.
“I…” The woman was shaking with fear, which surprised him a little. “I saw the bathroom,” she finished.
“You did?” Jack frowned a little. “Well, don’t worry. As long as you’re cooperative, I won’t have to do that to you.”
The words came so casually to his tongue. It was the type of threat that nightmares were made of, with a scene torn from a horror movie to go with it. The girl shivered in his grasp. Jack inhaled, hating himself a little for how distracting he found her smell. It reminded him of a vanilla milkshake, sweet with an icy undertone.
“The game is over,” called Emanuel. “Come out into the open. We know where you’re hiding.”
Jack brought the girl up to the edge of the divider and risked a glance out toward the center of the warehouse’s floor. Emanuel was waiting for him, along with most of his men. Jack swore under his breath. If it wasn’t for the red lights, he could use Shadow Form to slip away to one of the exits, escaping without trouble. He’d been left with no real option.
He kept the girl tight against him as he stepped out, trying to orient himself with the partition to his back, so that none of the men could flank around. Emanuel licked his lips and nodded slightly when he saw him.
“Hold, men,” said Emanuel. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Masterson.”
Jack winced. He’d really, really, really been hoping that Emanuel wouldn’t recognize him.
“You as well, Emanuel,” he said.
“I’m sure we both wish that it was under better circumstances,” said Emanuel. “And it can be. Just let the girl go, and we can talk.”
“I’ll let her go,” said Jack. “As soon as you provide me with a clear path to the door.”
Emanuel smiled. Those teeth which had seemed so perfect during their first encounter now looked almost neon pink under the red light. He lifted his arms up into a wide shrug.
“I’m not sure that’s something I’m willing to do at that price,” said Emanuel. “Though, I do take the blame for this unfortunate encounter. See, I knew who you were earlier today, Jack. Or more specifically, why you’d come knocking at my door. I just didn’t think you were quite so capable, or quite so ruthless.”
“If you know that much, then you must also know what it is that I want,” said Jack.
Emanuel chuckled and wagged a finger at him. He was acting too casual, and it made the hair on Jack’s neck prickle up.
“Oh, please,” said Emanuel. “I know exactly what you want. But I have to wonder… Do you? Do you understand why you’ve come here, Jack? Who you’re taking revenge on behalf on? Did you ever stop to wonder why we came after Kurt and his niece, or who they even are?”
Emanuel let the silence linger after his question. Jack kept his guard up, scanning to his left and right, aware of how many men could potentially be sneaking up on him. He saw at least five around Emanuel. How many others had been in the warehouse?
“Kurt and Ryoko worked for me,” said Emanuel. “Kurt was a killer, Jack, and a damn good one, at that. Ryoko was a recruiter. She helped convince young women to become the product my companies sell, both through legal and illegal avenues. Then… they both betrayed me.”
“I don’t care,” said Jack. “You’re lying.”
The words rang hollow, even to him. Too much was clicking into place. Ryoko’s reaction when she’d first seen the girls he’d rescued. Katie’s vague explanations, and more importantly, the way Katie had always seemed indifferent to Jack biting Ryoko. Katie had always been against him biting innocents, but her definition of the word had never seemed to extend to Ryoko.
“I had no idea that Ryoko was even on this pathetic little island until my organization had been established here for weeks,” said Emanuel. “Two of my men stumble into a random pizza place, and what do they find? It’s almost poetic, really.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Jack.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, actually,” said Emanuel. “It doesn’t matter, Jack. It doesn’t matter because of you, not her. See, I know your type. You aren’t a heroic vigilante, someone who needs a story and a cause to join the fight. You’re a killer, Jack. And it just so happens that I am, too.”
Emanuel waved a hand in his direction. Jack had time to see the men on either side of him stiffening their posture before he heard their guns firing.
CHAPTER 24
Pain. Unimaginable pain, radiating from Jack’s chest and stomach, his shoulder, and upper thigh. The girl’s body crumpled on top of him as they both fell into a tangled heap. Her fellow gang members hadn’t even hesitated when the order had been given for them to fire through her. So much pain, so much that Jack couldn’t think clearly. He could barely see, and splotches of flickering black marred what little vision he did have left.
“A shame,” said Emanuel. “I enjoyed Celia’s company, on occasion. But she knew what she was signing up for. Drag them both outside and throw them onto the incineration pile.”
The girl was gargling and seizing on top of him. Some of her blood had already dripped down across Jack’s lips. He didn’t bother to lick it away. It hurt too much to do anything, to even exist. He felt men seizing him by the ankles and dragging him across the floor, and the pain tripled in intensity, screeching through every inch of him like rusty nails thrust underneath every inch of his skin.
He was outside, in the dark. The men were whispering to each other, and then Jack felt himself being lifted. They casually tossed him away, and he felt his body go airborne for an instant before landing on a pile of ashes and twisted, burned metal. Jack had to stifle a shout of pain as he felt his wounds being poked and violated by the remnants of previously burned trash.
The woman’s body landed on top of him, again. She was still warm, and still bleeding. Jack felt ashamed of himself. A human shield. That’s all she’d been to him. He’d put her in the situation without thinking, never for a moment imagining that the rest of the gang would sacrifice her so callously.
“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered. He felt her shaking as what little life was left
in her slowly faded. She’d taken a bullet to the neck, and it left Jack with easy access to what he needed.
He drank deep, and felt his body instantly putting the blood essence he took from her to good use. His wounds wouldn’t heal immediately. It would take hours, maybe even days, before he was at a hundred percent again. If he even survived. The assault rifles had done their job, and Jack felt a little nauseous as he considered how much damage had been done by the bullets. Hot lead, tearing through muscle and bone like wet tissue paper.
He drank deeply, feeling so ashamed and so grateful toward the dying woman. His latest victim. She’d been one of them, complicit with smuggling and slaving, at the least. She probably had the blood of innocents on her hands. And yet still, her death had been at the hands of Jack’s enemy, in part because of his decisions. He would avenge her for his own sake, if not on her behalf.
Maybe Emanuel was right. Maybe Jack was a killer, and maybe the dying girl was just a new excuse.
He ran a hand through her hair, which was now a sticky, tangled mess. He could feel her sustenance working through him, the blood essence fueling his vampiric regeneration, doing what it could to save Jack from otherwise certain death.
“Let’s take care of this now,” muttered a voice, from nearby. “I don’t like the idea of Celia being out here for the bugs. Go get the lighter fluid.”
Jack took a shaky, pained breath. He wasn’t ready yet. His leg was still hours away from being healed enough to carry him properly. But he didn’t have a choice.
He rolled the girl off him and staggered upright, crying out from the throbbing, unbelievable pain. One of the men screamed, and Jack extended his hand to the side to summon his Spectral Sword. Freshly fed, he could manage it, but it was still an empty gesture. He didn’t have enough strength left to swing it.
“What… the fuck?” There was fear in the man’s voice, along with confusion. “Go get the others! He’s not dead!”
It was dark out, almost pitch-black, but Jack could still make out the silhouette of the man and see the gun in his hands. He might have scared his opponent, but he was still weak. He wasn’t the predator here, and he wouldn’t stand a chance if it came to a fight.
He gasped and tipped himself backward, rolling and stumbling on all fours to the other side of the unlit burn pile. A gunshot went off, but it missed him, which was no small miracle. If he got shot one more time, it was over. He wouldn’t be able to get back up again.
As far as he could tell, at least seven bullets had hit him already. The only upside he could find was that it felt as though all of them had passed straight through. It hurt so badly that the pain was represented in his field of view, with a flickering red outline on the edge of his vision pulsing in time with his body’s experience of the pain.
Jack forced himself to keep moving. He could feel the blood trickling out of him. He could feel the place in his thigh where the muscle had been demolished by a bullet, causing his leg to damage itself a little more each time he put weight on it. He could feel all of the bullet holes in his stomach and chest. By god, could he feel those.
“He won’t get away!” shouted Emanuel, from behind him. “Search the area with flashlights. There’s no need to rush. We’re looking for a body, not a man.”
A body. It felt generous for them to refer to what Jack had left with that kind of terminology. He didn’t have a body. He had a destroyed, bullet hole riddled mass of muscle, bones, and sheer will. He had hope, and he had pain. And he had a deep fear of what would happen if they found him.
He kept moving. It was the only thing he could do. He had no sense of direction, distance, or time. He was in the woods, and with every other step, he seemed to trip on a branch or tree root. The sounds of the men were drawing closer, and he forced himself to move faster, crawling on all fours at times.
His foot snagged on something and he fell hard, landing in a deep puddle of mud leftover from the storm. Jack went still, barely having the energy left to keep his mouth out of the muck. He heard the men coming, and then heard them going. They’d passed right by him.
He waited for ten minutes, and then twenty. It was as much due to the pain and his injuries as it was out of caution. When Jack was certain that none of his pursuers were nearby, he started moving again, pulling himself forward, barely able to stand.
Each step forward was an ordeal of its own. He didn’t want to die, but the idea almost seemed preferable to the agony he was being put through. Time became a meaningless concept, and instead of being aware of seconds and minutes passing by, he understood only the throbbing of his broken body.
Eventually, Jack made it to a road. The same road he’d followed to reach the warehouse to begin with. He walked alongside of it, still keeping himself as concealed as he could. He kept walking, kept forcing his feet to take step after step. He stubbornly picked himself back up each time he fell.
It took hours for him to reach the bottom of the slope leading up to the mansion. The last stretch of his arduous journey had him gasping from the pain with every step. Finally, after punching in the number to open the gate and hobbling through, Jack made it to the mansion’s front door. He didn’t even have the strength left to get his keys out of his pocket. All he could do was slam his hand against the wood and try to keep from passing out.
CHAPTER 25
The door opened, and Jack heard Ryoko gasp. She was at his side in an instant, helping him to his feet and slowly guiding him back inside.
“Mr. Masterson!” she cried. “You’re bleeding! What happened to you? Jack!”
Jack groaned. He wanted to go to sleep. He felt Ryoko releasing him, and his body tensed in fear of falling again. This time, he didn’t hit the ground, but a soft bed covered in clean sheets that were instantly soiled by his mud-caked body.
“I… went after them,” he muttered. “The people who hurt you.”
“No,” whispered Ryoko. “No, no, no...”
“Ryoko,” groaned Jack. “It’s okay. I’m alright.”
“Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll help you, Jack. So please… don’t move.”
“Ryoko…” Jack saw her face. She looked so worried. Her hair was messy, as though she’d just woken up. Her eyes were full of concern, and… something else. Something that had been there for a while. Something that he’d never recognized for what it was, until now.
“Shhh,” said Ryoko. “It’s okay. Please, just hang on.”
“I know, Ryoko,” muttered Jack. “They… told me. About your past.”
Ryoko stiffened. She glanced away from him, closing her eyes and pulling her hands in toward her chest.
“I’ll… go get the first aid kit,” she said.
The first aid kit. She wasn’t calling 911. She was getting the first aid kit. Jack was just lucid enough toward the situation to recognize how strange that was. Given the state he was in, it would have been borderline neglectful, at least, if he’d been a normal human.
She came back with the medical supplies, a wet towel, and a pair of scissors. She started cutting his clothes off him, the same perfect fitting suit that Jack had complimented her on getting tailored for him earlier that morning. With the towel, she cleaned him, taking care to only gently dab at the bullet holes punching through him. The wounds had started to close, but Jack could still feel the extent of the interior damage.
“It’s true,” Ryoko said, in a quiet voice. “I… was one of them. I did horrible things for money. Things that hurt other people. Things that I’m ashamed of.”
Jack wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. So instead, he just listened.
“Your grandfather helped me forget,” whispered Ryoko. “It took me a long time to start remembering, and even now, I only have fragments. The truly detestable things that I’ve done seem to be the easiest to recall. The evil, sadistic things... That stuff comes back through dreams and nightmares, with no context.”
Jack wanted to reach out with his hand to
comfort her but couldn’t find the strength.
“I have no excuse for it,” said Ryoko. “My uncle was working for them willingly, and he pulled me in. Convinced me that what I was doing wasn’t so bad. They used us, threatening my uncle or me whenever one of us tried to pull back. But it was still me. I was still a part of it.”
“Ryoko…”
She bandaged his wounds as soon as she’d finished cleaning him, quietly wrapping gauze and bandage tape, though it was almost just for show, given how much of the damage was inside of him. Jack had a headache and knew that his body must have drained most of its blood essence reserves in a desperate bid to heal the damage.
“I’m worthless,” she whispered. “I told you that before, and I meant it. I’m worthless, Jack. Which is why… you don’t have to worry about me. Or worry about hurting me.”
Slowly, Ryoko pulled back her hair, revealing the nape of her neck. She stretched out on the bed alongside Jack, presenting herself to him. Asking him to bite her.
“What?” muttered Jack.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know what you are. I’ve known since the first time you bit me, when I was sleeping on the couch that night. I didn’t want you to worry about me knowing your secret, but now… This is what you need. Isn’t it?”
“Ryoko.” Jack closed his eyes and grimaced. Maybe it was what he needed, but it wasn’t at all what he wanted. It felt like a sick joke. He’d set out to avenge her, and now here he was, in desperate need of her help. In need of her blood, like some kind of monster.
“Please, sir,” said Ryoko. “Let me help you. Please?”
“I can’t just bite you,” muttered Jack. “The potion… If I bite you without it, I’ll end up enthralling you. Stealing your free will.”
“Where is it?” asked Ryoko.
“In… the basement,” muttered Jack. “Behind the secret door. There’s a passcode…”
Jack listed off the series of numbers and explained to her where the secret panel was and where the anti-enthrallment potion would be inside. Ryoko didn’t ask him to repeat it, nodding once as he finished, then hurrying off.
Shadow Form (Dark Impulse Book 2) Page 14