by S. L. Eaves
I look to Vega but can’t get a good read on what he’s thinking, so I continue with full disclosure mode. Figure at the very least it will get Abrams’s attention and have him and his team step up their game. Sending a small crew into a compound that large fairly blind was a big mistake, mole or not, and he knew the risk more than he let us know. Now a bunch of good men are dead.
“You can confirm there were no other survivors?”
“Just me, barely, and the mole.”
“And you won’t share the identity of the double agent?”
I shake my head. “Does it matter to you? Did you even know the identities of the men I was with?” I don’t wait for a response. “Either way, the answer is ‘No.’ That information is for Abrams’s ears only. And I mean, they could’ve killed him, but my guess is they are keeping him around for his insight. I don’t know how long he was DIA or how deep his clearance went, but he’s well informed. And I doubt he’s going back to Abrams trying to pretend he’s still one of you. You said all the chips went dark, right?”
“Affirmative. Unlike yours, the chips in the agents transmitted vital signs. We assumed all the others for dead.”
“Well last I saw, he was escaping with the black box.”
“Damn.”
“So pass that along to Abrams. I don’t want any trouble, but I’m not going back just yet.”
“Alright. He won’t be happy, but I’ll bring him up to speed and we’ll reach out to you to determine the course of action. I’ll get a burner off one of the agents so we can reach you.”
“Fine. You guys figure out how to build audio transmitters into these trackers, you’ll be set.” I open the door. “And tell Abrams I got confirmation of Brixton. She’s inside and she’s definitely in charge.”
“I’ll be sure to relay that.” Sullivan’s expression tells me he’s heard the name before.
We head back into the kitchen. The three agents are lined up by the windows, arms folded. The vampires are leaning against the counter, watching the agents like hawks. Everyone is on edge.
Agent Sullivan is first to speak. “Johnson, you got that burner on you? Give it to Lori so we can reach her.”
The agent nods, pulls a flip phone from one of his cargo pockets, and hands it to me.
“And we’re not based in DC, we’re on the west coast down near Los Angeles. Things get hairy up here, it’ll take a few hours to send backup, but we move fast,” Sullivan explains.
I nod, check the number in the phone. “This you?”
“Yep.”
“Where’s Rex?” I ask Quinn, looking around.
“Oh,” Sullivan interjects, “big guy greeted us on the roof. We knocked him out with a few electrodes. Should be coming to about now, but might want to bring him in; I think we get a couple hours of daylight later today.”
“Fuckers,” Quinn mutters, leaving to retrieve Rex. Sullivan shrugs.
Vega gestures towards the stairs just outside the door. “I’ll show you men out. Unless you prefer to exit the way you came in.”
I kick at the glass and pull the curtains back to survey the damage.
“Hope you have renter’s insurance.”
Chapter 11
Owen, still covered in snow, his face red with windburn and hair disheveled, walks into a lab where Brixton is reviewing test results with some scientists.
“You summoned, Boss.”
“Ah, Owen, you’re back. With good news, I hope.” Brixton hands an iPad to a man in a white lab coat and motions for Owen to follow her out of the lab. “Let’s talk in my office.”
“How are things progressing?”
“Not as well as I’d like, but we’re making headway. In the meantime I’ve secured more funding from an arms dealer in Dubai, so at least we’re flush with cash. Now we just have to put his investment to good use.”
Owen brushes snow off his coat as he follows her into her office. She motions to the uncomfortable chairs facing her desk and he removes his coat and drapes it over the back of one before he sits in the other. Brixton pulls her chair up and leans forward, elbows propped on her desk, eyes daring him to admit defeat.
“We didn’t find Lori.”
“That much I figured out,” Brixton responds dryly.
“She had help. There was a vehicle waiting for her at the end of the tunnel, took her to Fairbanks. We lost the trail in Fairbanks, and with the wolf—well we didn’t think it wise to take him for a stroll down the city streets.”
Brixton smiles. “No, that brings the wrong kind of attention. How did the wolf do in the field?”
“One whiff of her blood and he was a hunting machine, but absolutely no obedience to commands. I think we lost everything that was human in the transformation to permanent wolf. Not a single sign he comprehended our orders. Might as well have had an actual wolf with me.”
“Yeah, our staff downstairs warned us of as much. I’d say I hate that they were right, but it is why they are here in the first place.”
Owen nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We are not going to be building an army of werewolves, that’s for damn sure. Use the one we have as a guard dog for the perimeter. We will need to up our security.”
“You expect Lori to come back with reinforcements? I can tell you that the DIA’s hands are pretty much tied. After that failed attempt, the agency is short on resources and support internally. Lots of government red tape will keep them at bay for a while.”
Brixton leans back, taps her nails on the desk.
“What’s on your mind, boss?”
“From Fairbanks, how long do you think it would take her to reach England?”
“England?” Owen scratches his head. “My guess would be twenty hours, maybe less.”
“You said that’s where she’s from, right? That there are other vampires living overseas? I want to reach out to them. Propose a truce. Show them what we’re doing here could be mutually beneficial.”
“A truce?” Owen raises his eyebrows. “After killing a few of their kind, then what happened to Lori, it may be a hard sell.”
Owen waits for a response, is met with a stern expression telling him she’s not joking, clears his throat and changes his tone. “Yes, Lori was from a group of vampires living in England. Marcus is a name that came up in one of the briefings.”
“Are the others clairvoyants?”
“I don’t believe so. Can’t say for sure.”
“Hmmm… did Abrams have an address? A way to reach him?”
“That’s the extent of my knowledge, I’m afraid.” Owen considers. “You know, he did mention that he didn’t want to risk engaging with the group. I think that’s why we targeted Lori specifically: because she was working in the States, alone.”
“A falling out, perhaps? I was thinking that’d be her first stop, but maybe not after all…”
“I don’t know. Can’t say one way or another why she wasn’t with them. At the time the DIA intercepted her, she was tracking down the black box distributor.”
“Right, okay. Do you have any contacts overseas that could get us more information about this Marcus fellow and his cohorts?”
“I have some mercenary friends in Europe I can reach out to. The kind that understand discretion.” Owen hesitates. “They can be tough to track down given their line of work, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. And book us a flight to London. I’ve got a few things to prep, but the sooner the better. Sedate and crate the wolf; we’ll bring him, too. We can use him to draw the vampires out. I want to recruit some bloodthirsty allies.”
***
Everyone is gathered in the downstairs lounge of Vega’s penthouse. Vega is doing his pacing thing, arms folded behind his back. Rex is recovered and carrying an expression that falls somewhere between angry and embarrassed. Quinn sits on the back of the couch, feet pawing the cushions. The other two vampires, Malik and Javier, sit patiently. Well, somewhat patiently; Javier looks like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.
>
The DIA visit being mostly my fault, I offered to clean up the mess they made upstairs. Having finished disposing of the glass, I join the group downstairs. They look up as I enter and shut the door behind me.
“We’re moving,” Vega declares. “Until we can get inside the compound, I’m done wasting time here. Plus, this location has been compromised.”
Vega shoots me an accusing glance.
“Where to?” Rex asks.
“Back to the west coast, to where we first caught wind of Trion’s activities.”
“San Francisco? You think there’s still something there?” Rex seems skeptical.
Vega raises a finger, disappears, then returns a moment later with a tablet. He shows me the photo displayed prominently across the screen. Black and white and much less grainy than the ones the DIA captured.
“Can you tell me who this is?”
“It’s Brixton,” I confirm.
Vega nods, “Rex got this shot of her exiting a building in San Francisco. A building that houses several medical research facilities. We figure she’s got another company or a business partner housed there. Either way, we may be able to learn something.”
“At least get her attention,” Quinn adds. “Maybe draw her out of the compound.”
“Yes. That settles it, then. We’re going back there. Or rather, I am. Anyone who wants to come with me is welcome to. It’s not an order. We’re clearly in over our heads at this point and I understand if anyone wants out. Right now, the only thing that makes the most sense to me is going back to California and seeing if we can find something or someone we can use against Brixton.”
“Makes sense,” I nod. “I’d like to make a detour back east first.”
“How far east?” Quinn asks.
“Going to pay my clan a visit. Abrams knows about them, which means it’s possible Owen does too. I have to warn them. Least I can do is give them a heads up. Maybe even bring them in on this. Way things are shaping up, we could use all the help we can get.”
“I’m going with you,” Quinn announces. I smile, and then nod.
“It’s settled then,” says Vega. “I’m going to return to San Francisco. I hope the rest of you will join me, but I understand if not. You two see if you can’t recruit a few more allies. As much as I don’t care for Marcus, if he wants to help, I’m willing to put aside differences.”
Chapter 12
I stand at the gates to the mansion. I cannot see it from here, just a long narrow drive lined with trees as old as the soil they’re rooted in. I take it in for a minute, studying the intimidating wrought iron gate and the thick stone walls that line the perimeter.
“I don’t even know if anyone will be here.”
“Only one way to find out.” The ever-eager Quinn reaches over my shoulder and hits the buzzer. She then promptly ducks out of sight of the cameras. I give her a strange look.
“I want to surprise them.”
“Wait—do they still think you’re dead? You haven’t told them yet, have you?”
Quinn starts to respond and is interrupted by a click and a buzz.
“Come on in!” Jiro proclaims excitedly over the comm.
I give a nod to the camera and we head quickly down the half mile road. The giant mansion looks as I remember it, foreboding in its presence, gargoyles staring us down, daring us to pass them. I think back to when Catch first brought me here. How scared I was; how comforting he was. It will always make for a bittersweet homecoming.
Xan and Crina are waiting for us at the door. Their expressions go from happy to shocked as they see my travel companion.
“Hey guys, look who I found,” I smirk.
They recover quickly from the shock and greet her with hugs.
“What am I, chopped liver?” I joke at being ignored, to which Xan and Crina both give me a playful shove.
“Where the hell have you been anyways?” Crina asks.
“Yeah, you don’t call, you don’t write,” Xan chimes in.
Just then Dade appears in the doorway. I watch his face as he processes seeing Quinn alive, standing five feet from him. Tears of joy spring instantly from the big lug’s face. We all watch as Quinn jumps in his open arms, kissing him affectionately. She always did have a thing for him, even after he left her for dead. It happens so fast we all stand frozen in the moment.
“Now that alone was worth the trip. I think I’m going to leave on a high note.” I move as if to go and Xan wraps his lanky arm around my neck playfully.
“You ain’t going nowhere till you tell us where you’ve been and what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.”
Oh man, he’s going to be so sorry he asked.
We head inside. Dade and Quinn run off, clearly planning to make up for lost time. They had not, to my knowledge, ever consummated their relationship, especially with Trent in the picture. His relentless courting had made a relationship with anyone else difficult, if not impossible for Quinn.
“Guess I’ll have to bring you guys up to speed,” I laugh as we watch them disappear down the hall.
“Guess you will.” Marcus appears, emerging from his study. He steps into the foyer. “It’s good to see you, Lori. And was that blur that just flashed by Quinn?!”
“Yes, short version: she survived that blast at the warehouse and she has been overseas all this time. I think. I mean I’d say I’m surprised she didn’t reach out, but we are talking about Quinn here.”
“And you’ve been with her? You didn’t tell us she was alive?!”
“Oh no, I just found out myself. We reunited when she saved my ass a few days ago. But I’ll get to that. If you want to be mad at someone for keeping you in the dark, be mad at her,” I joke, “or Vega. Apparently she reconnected with her mentor.”
I make sure to say it casually and give a shrug, watching for a reaction from Marcus at the mention of Vega’s name. He doesn’t give one. But then, he is a pro.
We head down to the “War Room”—a big round room stocked floor to ceiling with technology I don’t understand. It also contains two sealed doors that require special keycards to access; one room houses an impressive array of artillery, the other is an interrogation room. I went in there once, and torture chamber would be a more accurate description. The room will make your skin crawl…before it’s stripped off.
Jiro sits surrounded by monitors; he wheels out and glides over to greet me. He’s wearing new leg braces that allow him to stand upright with a little help from the arms of his wheelchair, which raise up with him as he stands.
“You can walk!” I exclaim.
“Getting there. What I need is a new spine.”
We hug. He stands about an inch shorter than me and I can’t resist the urge to mess up his spiky hair, which he hates. But anyone who insists on putting that much gel in their hair has to get used to some teasing.
“Love the new legs, they’re a big improvement over the previous model.” I admire.
Paralyzed prior to being turned, vampirism hadn’t cured his paralysis and he was always tinkering with new ways to overcome the disability through robotics. If anything good comes from this PMC it might be that we find technology to aid him.
“Thanks. How have you been?” he asks, adding, “And what have you been up to overseas?”
“What, that chip doesn’t transmit full reports on my status?” I joke.
“Nope, just location. All you’ve been is a little radar blip.” He sits back down, fixing his hair. “That is, until it conked out in Alaska a few days ago.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That so?”
Guess Trion found it. They probably thought it was DIA. Ha.
“Wait, her tracker went dead and you didn’t tell us?” Crina asks Jiro.
He shrugs, “There’s a number of ways it can happen. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like it was transmitting vitals.” He laughs, “That’s a little hard to do.”
“Did I hear Quinn is with you?” he asks me.
“You did. She is busy catching up with Dade at the moment.” I smile and he gives a knowing grin.
Something occurs to me. “I’m a little late in asking, but did she not have a tracker?”
“Quinn? Ha. No, she refused one.” Xan’s turn to laugh.
“How is it that we’re just learning this now? That she’s alive, that is?” Marcus inquires.
The others have gathered around and I sit up on the edge of Jiro’s desk.
“You’ll have to get the full account from her. Best I can do is reiterate what she told me. She says she met up with Vega—remember he was in New York back then? She’s got a history with him and he took her in while she recovered; she was in rough shape for a while. Not unlike you, Marcus, after the explosion at Beyond Bio. Similar circumstances, I imagine.
“By the time she was back in fighting shape, Striden and Deacon were dead and we’d returned to England, so she opted to stay in the States. Claims she’s been traveling around with Vega, who hasn’t been the same since the falling out with Florien.”
“He didn’t send the Saviors, though? I thought he was behind that? Sending them after us when we didn’t agree to a truce with Striden?” Xan asks.
I guess Marcus didn’t feel like sharing that information with the others. I recall that vampire in the interrogation room, one of Florien’s men, begging me to end him. The truth in his last words, swearing it wasn’t Vega who’d sent them to our doorstep: “It was Marcus—Striden indicated he had betrayed him. Sent us here…we did it in desperation. We did not want to turn on you…on our own kind.”
I resist the urge to glance at Marcus and instead just shake my head.
“The Saviors were acting on their own. They were Vega’s clan—former clan—my understanding is he and Florien broke ties before all the nonsense with Striden. It was Florian and his followers who wanted an allegiance with Striden, not Vega…” I shrug nonchalantly while internally I’m screaming: It was Marcus!
Though part of me is enjoying watching Marcus squirm, wondering if I’ll expose him. My word against his, ripping this clan apart. No thanks, Marcus. I know a losing battle when I see one.