Dead and Damaged (The Endangered Series Book 2)

by S. L. Eaves

  We hit the ground and she lands on her back, breaking my fall.

  I waste no time rolling off. I grab the gun from her holster as I do. Springing to my feet, I train the gun on her.

  She coughs up blood, rolls on her side, looks up into the barrel of her gun, and pauses. I back away.

  Does she know I’m not going to pull the trigger? Not if she really believes all this nonsense. A couple of bullets won’t do the trick, but I can slow her down. Plus, I’m pretty sure a bullet to the head may knock a vampire out or at least immobilize them. And damn, I’d hate to extract that bullet. Fortunately, that’s one of the only places I haven’t been shot myself, so can’t say first hand.

  I hear a click and spin to find Xan aiming a gun at my temple. He presses the muzzle against my skin. And I’d like to keep it that way.

  “Give me the gun or I’ll put one in your head.”

  He doesn’t show his fangs often, but they’re out now. And it’s surprisingly intimidating. I almost obey him. Almost.

  Crina is slowly getting to her feet, hand on her back. Five or six story fall onto pavement, yeah, that’s got to sting. I figure I’ve got another ten to twenty seconds before she fully recovers. So I make them count.

  I drop the gun, and in that split second when Xan’s eyes follow the gun, I drive an uppercut into his jaw. He rocks backwards. I grab the outstretched arm holding the gun and twist it behind him. He releases the gun and collapses to his knees, momentarily dazed.

  “Xan, if you point a gun at me you damn well better pull the trigger.”

  I drive my knee into his back, knocking him to the ground. I want to sprint, but Crina charges over, gun in hand. She always carries her guns in pairs; I’d picked a bad time to forget that. I pick up Xan’s and aim it at his head, pushing his face into the ground.

  “Drop it, Crina.”

  She slows. We’re both hesitant to open fire because of all the attention it’ll bring. But she won’t drop her gun.

  “Seriously, that’s how you want to play it?” I grab Xan and pull him to his feet, positioning him between us.

  “Sorry about the shield situation. I don’t like this any more than you.”

  I backpedal and realize Crina is considering shooting through Xan. Not considering, rather, more like trying to decide the best angle.

  I’m almost to the sidewalk and it won’t be long before people see us. I shove Xan into Crina and sprint out of the alley. She sidesteps, tossing the gun to her other hand so she can intercept Xan with her left and still get a clean shot.

  I hear a pop followed by a sharp pain in my leg. My leg gives out and I go down, dropping to my knees on the sidewalk. I push myself up with my one good leg in an attempt to bolt forward, but she’s on me striking me down the second I try. She steps on my calf, driving the bullet deeper. I resist the urge to cry out as my knees buckle and I fall forward, hitting the pavement.

  There’s screaming in the streets. People scattering, taking cover.

  I hear Xan’s footsteps approach as Crina wrestles with my arms, pinning them behind me.

  “Here.” Xan must have grabbed the cuffs. I feel the shackles clamp shut around my wrists.

  The cold metal solidifies my loss.

  “Let’s get out of here; we are way too exposed.” Xan’s voice is shaky.

  Crina grabs me by my arms and yanks me up. I hop on one foot as she drags me back into the alley. We go a few blocks, winding between buildings. I remain silent in my defeat and try not to concentrate on my throbbing leg.

  We get to a shuttered retail space and Crina uses me as a battering ram as she slams me head first against the door. I’m lucky the lock pops on the first try.

  “Jesus, Crina, chill with that.” Xan closes the door behind us as we go into the back where painting supplies are stacked against the wall.

  She pulls a couple of paint cans out and sets me on one.

  “Stay.”

  It smells of fresh paint and sour blood. My nose must’ve broke against the door.

  “Damn, Lori, that was not cool.” Crina sits on a paint can and rubs her neck. “I have to admit you’re stronger than I thought.”

  “I didn’t kill those vampires. Brixton is a lying piece of shit. I get why Marcus bought into her pitch, but you and Xan, too?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t have a choice; I’ve been by Marcus’s side for decades, I won’t defy him; plus, we both saw the evidence. I don’t know why you think Marcus would be more inclined to be swayed by a human. And answer me this: Why would Brixton be developing technology for vampires if she was hunting and killing them? And your involvement with the DIA…you have to admit it looks bad. Really bad.”

  I lean sideways and slide my hand down my jeans and into my boot. There should be a switchblade in there somewhere. I’m so used to carrying it, I’d forgotten it was on me. I fumble around until I feel the smooth silver and start to inch it out. Slowly.

  “You too, Xan? Marcus says ‘jump’ you say how high?”

  Xan is checking out the windows, looking for cops. Sirens blare nearby. Between the “mugging” and the gunshots, they’ll be busy tonight.

  “I don’t know what to believe, but I stand by Crina and Marcus.” He looks me in the eyes, his voice distraught. “I want to talk to Marcus and this Brixton person face to face. Then I’ll make up my mind about this whole mess.”

  “And watch the video.”

  “Yes, and the video,” he reiterates.

  I open the switchblade, lean to the other side, and start to dig out the bullet with it. Accomplishing this with my hands tied behind my back is no easy task. Crina had been focusing her attention on the windows, but she notices my arms moving and gets up.

  “What the—”

  She looks over my shoulder and sees me working the bullet out. She places one hand on my shoulder and grabs the knife from my hand. “Seriously?”

  “Can you blame me for trying?” I shrug.

  “Sorry, but the bullet stays. Can’t have you running off.”

  She wipes off the blade, retracts it, and puts it into her boot. Then she leans over my shoulder again, lifts the jacket, and removes Xan’s gun.

  “Think this belongs to you,” she says, setting it on a paint can. Xan nods appreciatively.

  “You and I both know I didn’t have much of a chance against you two. But there were times back there where I could’ve killed you both and I didn’t. That’s got to count for something.”

  “That’s why I aimed for your leg and not your head.”

  Crina’s version of appreciation: she picks a rag off the floor, leans forward, and wipes blood from my face.

  “Thanks.”

  The phone in my back pocket vibrates.

  My ride.

  “Sheesh, we really should have frisked you.” Crina stands me up, takes the phone, drops it to the floor, and shatters it with her heel as she drops me back on the paint can.

  “Vega or DIA?” She looks up at me, brushing the plastic pieces around with the toe of her boot.

  “Dunno,” I lie.

  Xan comes over. “I think we’ll be clear to move in a few. What’s the plan?”

  “I have the plane waiting for us. We need to steal a car to get out to it.”

  “Oh great,” Xan rolls his eyes, “I have my gear back at Vega’s. I need to retrieve it.”

  “Not sure that’s a great idea.”

  “I’ll go get it for you,” I smile.

  “Vega and I are fine,” Xan says, running his hands through his wavy locks. “The others ask what’s up, I’ll tell them Lori got away and we’re just going to the compound.”

  “What about Dade?”

  “He’s with Quinn. And Quinn is pretty pissed about the whole situation. She’s not going to be on our side with this. You know Dade: he won’t go against Marcus, but he’s got Quinn in his ear.”

  “And holding his dick.” Crina shakes her head. “Fuck. Marcus won’t be pleased.”

  “
He asked to stay neutral on this, and after everything he’s done for Marcus, I’m sure he’ll get a pass.” Xan crosses to the window again. “He sides with Vega and goes after Brixton, then we’ll have a problem. Until then, let’s try putting out one fire at a time.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Quinn’s been to the compound,” I try to explain. “She knows what’s up. Once you two see it for yourselves, you’ll understand… nothing good can come from there. Nothing.”

  “Well, you can give us the VIP tour when we get there,” Crina quips. “You can also tell us what Vega is planning, and the DIA too, for that matter.”

  I look down, shaking my head.

  “You gotta talk, Lori,” Xan implores. “Cooperate with us. Otherwise, if Marcus does the questioning…”

  His voice trails off. Yeah, Xan, I know I’m fucked on this one.

  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t go to the DIA. They brought me in. By force the first time. I mean, yeah, it sounded like a good cause—I bought what they were selling—but I didn’t seek them out. And I never would have pursued Brixton if I thought for a second this would be the fallout…fucking humans.”

  “First smart thing you’ve said all night.” Crina pulls out the switchblade, uses it to pick dirt from her nails. “That bit about Marcus smiling at you being exposed as a traitor—what did you mean?”

  “Does it matter? Would you even believe me if I told you?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Just then, a window breaks and several canisters of tear gas bounce across the floor.

  Crina gets to her feet, both guns drawn. She and Xan exchange puzzled glances. I shake my head. Tear gas on vampires—you’ve got to be shitting me.

  I hear a chopper overhead. Got to hand it to them, they came through.

  The gas canisters are followed by flash grenades. Crina and Xan duck down, both aiming their weapons at indiscernible targets. Four agents rappel in through the broken windows. They are armed with electrified dart guns and wearing prominent crosses around their necks. They surround Crina and Xan.

  “Drop your weapons!”

  Crina holds her ground. The agent shoots her in each leg, the darts effectively stunning and crippling her as she falls to the ground. At that Xan quickly drops his gun, raising his hands. I hobble over. I think about trying to retrieve the keys to the shackles and my switchblade, but decide to settle for Xan’s rappelling gun. Never know, could come in handy.

  Sullivan greets me.

  “These the vampires that are hunting you?”

  “Yep. Remember what I said though.”

  Sullivan nods, grabs my arm to steady my footing. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Don’t go to the compound,” I plea over my shoulder to them as we leave.

  Once inside the helicopter I look around at these humans sporting crosses around their necks. No wonder they think I’m a traitor. This does look really bad.

  Sullivan examines the shackles.

  “I don’t have the equipment to remove them with me, but we can get them off at the base.”

  “Okay. How did you guys get here so fast?”

  “We have one of the fastest choppers tax money can buy,” he smiles.

  “Nice. I owe you guys big time.”

  “Yes, you do. Abrams is on his way in.”

  “Good.”

  “Care to tell me why vampires are after you?”

  “Oh, that—just a little family spat.”

  “You’re kidding, right? That looked pretty hairy.”

  “They’re a violent bunch.” I point at my leg. “Can you cut the bullet out?”

  He bends down, sees the bloodstained hole in my jeans.

  “We have a first aid kit on board.”

  “Knife will do the trick.”

  He shrugs, fishes a knife out of the cargo pocket of his pants, snaps it open, and crouches down to get a better look at the wound.

  “You sounded alarmed when you called earlier.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how humans tend to fear what they don’t understand?” I grimace as I feel the knife work the bullet free. “As a vampire, I tend to fear other vampires because I understand perfectly well what they are capable of. And this little…misunderstanding has one vampire in particular chomping at the bit to take me out.”

  I feel my leg heal as Sullivan holds up the crushed remnants of a bullet.

  “Thanks.”

  “And I take it this misunderstanding has a lot to do with us? The recent operation?”

  I nod. “At this point I’m not even sure how much is about my choice in colleagues and how much it’s about a certain member of my clan feeling threatened,” I shrug. “Then again, maybe they are onto something. Maybe I am the enemy. Suppose it’s all subjective.”

  “Jesus, and I thought government politics were bad.”

  I look out the window as we soar across the ocean. White crests slam against the rocky coastline.

  “Sullivan, sometimes we have to bleed for the wicked even if the wicked won’t bleed for us.”

  ***

  “I’m not going in there,” Crina declares as Xan gets out of the passenger side.

  “Probably for the best.” He shuts the door behind him and heads up the hill to the house.

  After a brief hesitation, he decides to let himself in rather than knock. Inside is quiet. He goes to his bedroom and gathers his duffle, which has more weapons gear than clothes.

  He turns to leave and finds Dade at his door, his big frame filling the doorway.

  “You find her?”

  “Nope—well, yeah, but she escaped. Her government buddies intervened.”

  “That’s no good…Where you headed then?”

  Dade steps aside to let Xan pass. Quinn and Vega have gathered in the hallway.

  “To talk with Marcus. Try to make sense of all this.”

  “At the compound?” Vega asks.

  Xan nods.

  “Your funeral, Xan.” Quinn doesn’t hide her displeasure.

  “I’m caught in the middle of this. I got no beef with anyone here, but I won’t defy Marcus.” He pauses, then adds, “And from what I’ve seen, I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “We understand.” Vega gestures to the exit. “Watch your back up there; it’s a dangerous game Brixton is playing.”

  “We just letting him go?” Rex enters the hallway carrying a modified SLR pistol.

  “Of course we are.” Vega seems offended by the implication. “Let them discover for themselves what we already know.”

  “In that case, here, man.” Rex hands him the pistol.

  Xan takes the gun, looks it over. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck,” Dade sighs.

  Xan hesitates as if he wants to say something, but decides against it.

  Chapter 17

  Shackle free, leg and nose healed, I sit in a holding cell flipping absently through channels on a tiny television screen at the end of a cot.

  Sullivan has informed me that Abrams isn’t going to arrive before sunrise. He’s not due in until 1300 hours. Thus, we opted for this windowless room as a meeting site. It’s cozy enough; certainly beats some of my recent accommodations.

  And it’s probably the safest place for me at the moment.

  A couple of agents enter with a table and chairs. They return with water bottles a minute later. An agent hands one to me.

  “Anything we can get you? There’s a food court downstairs, but I don’t know if you eat, uh—well, you know.”

  “Cigarettes and a cell phone.”

  He looks as if he’s going to protest, but thinks better of it. Comes back a minute later with a pack and a lighter.

  “We’re not authorized to give you access to electronics. Abrams can, though. He’ll be here shortly.”

  “Alright.” I shake a cig from the pack. “Thanks.”

  It occurs to me I don’t know anyone’s phone numbers anyways.

  I use the water to wash
off dried blood.

  And hour or so later Abrams enters. I stand and shake his hand. “Thanks for making the trip in.”

  “No problem; frankly, I’m under a lot of heat for the ‘disappeared agents’ from the botched mission. It was a relief to have an excuse to leave HQ.” He motions for me to take a seat at the little makeshift conference table. I oblige.

  His heart beats steadily. My pale skin and dead eyes don’t faze him; neither do the bloodstained clothes. I like that I don’t freak him out.

  He holds up a recorder. “May I record this? It’s protocol for debriefings.”

  I look at him like that’s the stupidest question anyone has ever asked.

  Then with an exhausted shrug, “Sure, why not. But I highly doubt you want anyone outside these walls hearing what I have to say.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.” He clicks off the recorder.

  “Water all they gave you?” he laughs, opening one of the bottles. “You need blood, that can be arranged.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “So what happened?”

  I proceed to tell him about Owen leaking intel, how we walked right into Brixton’s trap, and my mercifully brief experience inside the compound. Then segue into how she released a werewolf to maim and kill London shoppers.

  Then I lay out my theory: how Brixton convinced members of the clan I was once a part of that I invaded her base to kill her men and her allies, some of which were vampires. That I’m working with the DIA to hunt vampires. How she is offering my former clan synthetic blood and access to the technology that we were attempting to confiscate. How her and a vampire who’s gunning for me appear to have struck some sort of alliance.

  I mention Vega’s makeshift clan; how they helped me escape the compound, and have been watching Trion closely. But that they won’t want a civil war with my former clan. And while we were working on the beginnings of a plan to take out Brixton, I expect them to be hesitant to help now.

  He sits digesting all this with a very unfazed expression. Almost as if this is the sort of debriefing he hears on a daily basis.