by Justin Sloan
“Heard you lost your last pair.” Victor shrugged. “Figured you couldn’t properly deliver your beatings without them, you being a girl Were and all.”
She glanced over and asked, “Want to stand up and see what I’m capable of?”
He held his hands up and bit his lip before saying, “I’ll be honest, kinda, but not in the way I think you mean.”
She whacked him good across the upper arm, leaving a nice welt in the shape of her new kali stick.
“Huh, at least we know they work,” he said, rubbing the spot with a half-smile. “And you’re as strong as they say.”
“Test me again,” she said, daring him.
He shook his head and laughed. “Once is enough, and I want you to save your strength for what comes next.
“Wait, you want me to do the honors?”
He stood and gestured for her to follow. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
She followed him to the back room, feeling the smooth bamboo of her new weapons in her hands, and smiling. The excitement was already sending tingles up her arms.
He opened the door and she stepped in, loving the sound her cowboy boots made on that hardwood floor, and the look of terror in the man’s eyes as he looked up at them.
“Don’t I know you?” she asked, placing the edge of one of her kali sticks under his chin and lifting it so she could see him better. “Hot damn, Victor, you’ve captured yourself one of the faction leaders.”
“One of the whats?” Victor asked.
“Just a week ago, Valerie had them all together,” Cammie said, pulling back her stick and assessing the man as she talked. “First Jackson’s crew attacked, and then the remaining faction leaders tried to get Valerie. A couple escaped, and now, lookie here.”
“Well hot damn indeed,” Victor said, proudly crossing his arms across his chest.
“Yippy for us,” Cammie said, and then brought her two sticks for a one-two strike across the man’s left arm, carrying them over for another strike on the man’s right arm.
The man grunted, but stared up at her defiantly.
“Oh, I’m just trying out my new toy,” Cammie said with a giggle. “Don’t mind me.”
She brought one of the sticks across the man’s skull and he groaned, shook it off, and said, “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Is that a tease?” she asked. “I do love challenges, so Mr. …?”
“Call me Grolt,” he spat at her. “I want you to know the name of the man who’ll kill you.”
“Grolt… right. Wait, can you say that again? Did I get it right?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but she whacked him across the face with one of her sticks. “Ooh, this is too much fun. See, you hurt some of my boys, and so for that you’ve gotta pay. Or, you could just tell us where the rest of you are.”
He spat blood this time and stared at her defiantly.
“You’re working with a Forsaken?” No answer, so she whacked him again. “And the former Enforcers, with Anderson?” she asked. This time his eyes looked confused, though he still remained silent. “So, at least we know you aren’t aware of that little predicament.”
She whacked him again.
“Ouch, what was that for?” he shouted, struggling with the ropes around his wrists.
“I’m sorry, did I mislead you into thinking I need a reason?” She laughed, then hit him again. “You’re just my little piñata, see, and a girl wants her candy.”
She stepped forward with a barrage of hits, until strong arms had to pull her back and she became aware of Victor and Duran yelling for her to stop.
Her breaths were coming heavy, images of those damn wolves from the Golden City attacking her, pinning her down in that little hideout, covered in blood…. and she didn’t know when the transition happened, or how she’d let her mind go back there.
When she looked up at Grolt, he was dripping blood, one eye swollen shut, a couple of teeth missing. But he glared back at her, defiantly.
“I—a drink,” Cammie said, stumbling from the room and handing the kali sticks to Duran. “Get those cleaned off for me.”
She had just plopped down at the bar and waved the bartender over, when the sound of breaking glass pulled her back to her senses, and then the gunfire sounded and everyone was shrieking and dropping to the floor.
“There!” a thin woman said, pointing directly to her. “I told you she was here.”
The first thing Cammie saw when she followed the direction the woman was shouting to was a line of Nosferatu—mindless vampires, standing with legs spread and fangs at the ready.
Behind them, a man stepped forward, tall, broad chested, and almost bald but for a line of close-cropped hair running down the middle of his head. He wore a suit and untucked dress shirt, and was panting like he’d just run fast.
“So nice of you to fetch me,” he said, then sniffed. “Where’s Valerie?”
“You’re here for her, you’re in for a letdown,” Cammie said, pushing herself to her feet and allowing her eyes to change to yellow, her claws to grow from her fingertips. “Just me here today.”
The vampire shot the woman an angry glance, but then regained his composure and motioned for the Nosferatu to stay as he walked forward. Behind him, a line of men and women appeared, rifles and pistols in hand, and one said, “There’re more cops out there, they’ll have heard the noise.”
“Let them come,” the vampire said. “Let them all come, until they bring Valerie.”
“You want to use me as bait?” Cammie said. “That’s already been tried, and it didn’t work.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of motivation.” The vampire shot forward. In an instant he was beside Cammie, hand at her throat, lifting her from the ground. “See, the thing with Valerie is she doesn’t fall for tricks. But she’s a simple girl, and when she hears we’ve killed one of her own, she’ll come for revenge.”
Coughing sounded and out of the hallway came Grolt, two armed men carrying him.
“She’s mine,” Grolt said, then spat out more of the blood that was trickling into his mouth from a cut on his forehead.
The vampire smirked, and then tossed her against the walls so that she hit it hard, then fell in a heap.
Grolt stepped up, grabbing a rifle from one of his buddies, and aimed.
A shot rang out, and Cammie opened her eyes, thinking this was it.
She was dead.
But no, the first thing she saw was the vampire stumbling backward, a hole in the side of his head, and then Grolt was shooting again, filling the vampire with shots. The other humans, too, turned on the vampire and his Nosferatu, and they in turn were attacking the men with guns.
Victor was at Cammie’s side, Duran at her other, as they pulled her behind the bar.
“We’ve gotta transform,” Victor said, and began to pull at his shirt.
“Not so fast,” came a voice from above, and then Ella was above them, on the counter, with a shotgun aimed down at them.
Duran had already transformed but took a shot to the shoulder as he leaped for her. He took out her legs, then fell to the floor with a grunt while she was knocked back into the tables behind her.
The bar was in chaos, and Cammie just shook her head, thinking about how the same thing had happened last time she’d come here.
She was going to have to stop coming to this place.
More werewolves were transforming and joining in the attack, and soon it was every group for themselves—humans, Weres, and the vampire with his Nosferatu.
Then shots came from outside, and the police were arriving. Cammie took down two Nosferatu as a wolf, then returned to her human form to pull Duran from harm’s way. She looked over the bar to see that Royland was in the fight now, squared off against the other vampire, but Ella was about to attack him from the rear, and only Cammie could stop her. She jumped on to the bar and transformed as she leaped, landing with a thud that knocked the wind out of her.
A pistol appeared beside Cammie’s head and she rolled aside just in time, but when she looked up, Ella was gone.
Several Nosferatu lay dead on the floor and a flash of fighting was coming from Royland and the vampire, each moving too fast for her to clearly see, and then she was there, moving out to clear a path for the cops to get in. They formed a wall, some with riot gear, and Wallace was there shouting, “Everyone, freeze!”
Another crash sounded, and Royland had the vampire’s head slammed into the bottles behind the bar, a piece of broken glass jammed into the vampire’s neck and his blood splattering everywhere, while others ran for it, some getting caught by the cops, others shot, and some escaping out through the back.
With a shout of pain, Royland pushed the glass and it bit through his hand as it also went through the vampire’s neck, disconnecting head from body.
And then it was over. The Nosferatu he’d brought were dead, the Weres standing with the police, and the others, the ones who had come with Ella, were all dead. Except, she didn’t see any sign of Ella.
“Where’s she?” Cammie shouted, standing, holding her loose clothes in place. “Where is Ella?”
They all turned, looking around at the chaos and the dead. But there was no sign of Ella. “Dammit to hell!”
Cammie held her head with two hands, trying to piece together everything that had just happened. There’d obviously been a lookout, in case she returned, who’d ran off and notified the Forsaken vampire—maybe thinking she was Valerie? Or maybe the orders had been to shout if anyone was meeting with the Weres. Either way, she had to stop returning to places they might know she’d been, because who knew how many other traps they were setting.
If they hadn’t been in place then, they were now.
Cammie shook her head, let down that she’d allowed this mistake to happen. She walked over and helped Duran to stand and motioned for the police.
“Get him in a pod, and back to HQ to heal up.”
“And you?” the cop asked.
She ran her fingers through her blood-caked hair, and looked at Victor. He was seething, pissed he’d been so careless. They thought they’d had the upper hand, but it had all fallen apart.
Royland had taken a clean bar rag and wrapped his wounded hand in it, and approached her side. “We have to act fast,” he said. “Get this place cleaned up,” he told the cops, “while we work to track down those responsible.”
“You need to heal,” Cammie told him.
He pulled a vial of blood from his pocket and downed it before answering. “I’ll be fine.”
So she motioned to the Weres and said, “You heard him. If you aren’t wounded from the fight, come with us. We’re going on scent here—Weres, spread out first and see if there are other vampires nearby, Forsaken, the type that would travel with Nosferatu. Vampires, we’ll need your eyes for the darkness. We have to find Ella, trace her back to their underground.”
“You don’t think they’re working together then?” Wallace said, stepping forward, eyes hopeful. “I mean, she left because of Valerie, because she couldn’t see this city run by a vampire.”
“Exactly,” Cammie said, and then it hit her what he must be going through. “Did… did you see her?”
He nodded. “She looked at me like I was nobody to her. It’s over.”
“God, I’m so sorry.”
Royland cleared his throat to get their attention. At a glare from Cammie, he said, “Me too, but… our window of opportunity is about to shatter.”
“Go,” Wallace told the two of them. “I’ll see to the wounded.”
Cammie nodded. They’d meant to set up an intel network, work the streets while maintaining order, but apparently the streets called for a different sort of beast. If they wanted violence, well, Weres and vampires knew how to speak that language well enough.
With a shout from Cammie, they ran off into the night.
It was time to hunt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The North Wall, Old Manhattan
Valerie was following the instructions of Dreg, the Were bear, wondering how he was doing and if she’d actually ever see him again. Good for Dreg if she found this place, bad for him if she didn’t. She had gone north to the wall and then headed west, and so far had no idea where this bazaar was that he’d mentioned.
When daylight had come, she realized that just wandering around out here, without a clue as to where this bazaar really was, might not be the best idea in the world. Could she walk forever and never find it?
She snorted. They’d write stories about the great Valerie, the wandering vampire who nobody ever saw again.
She noticed what looked like an old bank, its gate partially closed, and slid inside. In the back and out of the way, in case anyone else happened upon this place, she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes. She had a lot to consider. She didn’t think about whether she should do anything, but rather how to do it.
Setting up a strong military was key, but should that be by using her so-called soldiers, as she’d taken to calling them, in the police force? Or should it be a military of Weres and vampires? Maybe they could even start conscripting citizens to stand in defense should the CEOs attack? She didn’t know what the answer was, though she knew something needed to be done.
This walk up north, by the wall, was proof enough that you couldn’t always just set your mind to doing something and then do it. The result could be walking around for a day or two, or forever, without a clue as to where you were actually going.
Well, that wasn’t fair, she had a clue. Go west.
She almost laughed out loud at that.
If she made it back to Enforcer HQ and that Were bear was there, she’d be sure to flick him good in the ear for not giving her better instructions.
With her eyes closed, she willed herself to focus on the positive energy. Breathe out the bad, breathe in the good.
Over and over, one breath after another.
Jackson was still alive, and very much into her. That was a positive. Even if she was pushing him away for his own safety, and the safety of the city. Sandra was coming into her own, taking small leadership roles at HQ, and she and Diego seemed exceedingly happy together.
What else could she ask for her best friend?
And the world was a better place, now that Donovan was gone.
She breathed out, then relaxed. It was all wrong, she realized, this way of thinking. Focusing on the past only made her think of the ‘yeah, buts.’ Instead, she should be thinking of the future.
No matter what happened here today, or the next day, or the day after that, she was going to put this city right. Not just this city, all of America, if she had her way.
Her friends would live long, healthy lives, and the world would be a place without suffering, without hardship.
Again, she almost laughed. If anyone were watching her, she imagined they’d think her ridiculous—sitting there cross-legged, with that silly smirk on her face. She couldn’t help it though, because the idea of the world being saved by vampires was just too hilarious.
Everyone else thought they were creatures of the night, evil beings hell-bent on sucking the blood of humans until none remained.
How far from the truth that was.
And the whole alien thing? Since she didn’t have the faintest idea what that was about or what it really meant, she decided that keeping that in the ‘ignore for a long time’ box was a splendid decision.
Her head nodded forward and she caught herself, blinking her eyes to try to stay awake. When had she last slept? She had been sleeping less and less since receiving Michael’s blood, and wondered if that was normal, or if she was pushing the boundaries.
Since she wasn’t any closer to finding her answers at the moment, however, she decided she wouldn’t fight it. If her body was saying it was time for sleep, so be it.
The morning rays of light shone through the bottom of the half-closed gate, casting a golden glow across the
floor, but it stopped just short of her. A smile spread across her lips as she watched the little balls of dust dance in the morning light, so glad that she didn’t have to be afraid of that light ever again.
With her coat balled up as a pillow, she put her sword next to her hand, and laid her head down.
Perhaps answers would come in her sleep.
Enforcer HQ
Sandra was sitting in the conference room, or what she had begun terming “The War Room,” with Diego, Wallace, and Colonel Donnoly, listening while Wallace briefed them on the previous night’s action.
To think that he’d been there amongst the Weres and vampires fighting, but also that Ella and her group had shown up for the fight, was all a bit overwhelming. Add to that the fact that he had a history with Ella, and was somehow briefing them without bursting into tears.
“You’re a strong, courageous man,” she said, nodding to him when he’d finished.
He and Donnoly stared at her, and Diego shook his head.
“What?” she looked around at them. “Did I say something weird?”
“Just, dear…” Diego put a hand on hers. “As comforting as Wallace might have found that from you, it’s not exactly the right thing to say at a police briefing.”
“Or in The War Room,” Donnoly added, gesturing to their surroundings. “But, yes, Wallace, you are everything she said. Do you need a hug?”
Wallace rolled his eyes and said, “I’m glad you can mock me at a time like this. It’s nice to be reminded that the only person in the room with a heart is Sandra.”
“I—I’m sorry,” Diego said. “It’s just, you gotta admit, that was a bit girly of her.”
“And maybe you all should try being more girly from time to time then,” Sandra said, defensively.
Wallace couldn’t hide his smile at that, and then even Donnoly laughed.