He checked himself in the restroom mirror. He was too big to blend in easily, but with a bit of a slouch to cut some height, he could pass for an overweight local fan, at least from a distance.
He stuffed the duffel in the first trashcan he passed.
He bought a giant red slushie in a transparent cup and sipped it very slowly as he rode the escalators to the bottom floor and ambled out of the mall. No one on the run drinks a slushie.
If they were looking for him, they’d now have trouble finding him. They’d know he’d end up at Changes, but at least he could establish a private base of operations.
If Matt was expecting him, and Chan had to assume he was, anyone Matt sent would be unlikely to recognize him. It was still daylight, though just barely, so Matt himself certainly wouldn’t be out.
Both his employers and Matt would expect him to keep a low profile, so he did the opposite: walked to Union Square and checked into the Westin St. Francis with another paper-thin ID. With a few sad comments about a rough divorce and a big cash deposit, he persuaded the guy at the desk to record but not charge the long-dead credit card he showed them.
He’d need more throwaway identities after this was over.
He chose a suite near the stairs and was finally settled in it at 8:15. An hour and a half before he had to leave so he’d arrive at Changes just as it opened, then four hours to find Sam.
Not much time, but all he was going to have.
Maybe it did happen later, maybe closer to three or even four, and he’d have that extra hour or two.
He shook his head. He wanted the extra time so badly that he kept circling back to it, but wanting it didn’t make it real. Stick with the worst case. Let the good news surprise you.
He ordered the room service club sandwich, stretched until it came, and then wolfed down it and two bottles of water. As he ate, he studied the Changes site one last time and made sure he had memorized the routes to it and all the available interior detail. The data was far from perfect, but it was all he had.
He stood under a long hot shower and pushed everything out of his mind except what he had to do.
At 9:15, he loaded his jacket with everything he could from the package. The slots and clasps in the sleeves held the stakes and baton firmly.
At 9:40, he walked out of the front of the hotel.
Night owned the city now. The streets fought back with neon and crowds and cars and trolleys, but before it surrendered to the morning sun the night would claim victory, first in the suburbs, then in the rougher areas, and eventually even here, in the heart of the urban resistance.
Chan turned left and left again at the corner. About a mile to walk, twenty minutes to do it, plenty of time to check out the area around Changes before he entered it.
* * *
One more street to cross, then a turn at the next one, and the club would come into view down the road on his left. Chan’s constant stride had carried him a step into that street when he noticed an alley ahead on his left.
If he were Matt and thought he was coming, he’d consider an ambush. No point in letting potential trouble into the club if you could help it.
He backed out of the street and slid to his left until he was in the shadow of an awning over a dark doorway.
He slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and listened. Cars rolling past. A light breeze channeling through the streets. Settling sounds he couldn’t identify.
Nothing from across the street.
That didn’t mean anything, though; he was too far away to hear them if they were trying to keep quiet.
He’d have to move closer.
A car rolled down the street in front of him, the woman driving it talking on her mobile and gesturing with her other hand, the car apparently steering itself.
He crossed as it passed, using its sonic wake to cover any sounds he might make.
He slowed as he touched the sidewalk and moved slowly ahead. He was wasting precious time if no one was there, but he’d lose far more if he walked into an ambush unprepared.
He edged carefully along the wall and stopped a few inches from the opening to the alley.
He listened again.
Nothing for a few seconds. A murmur. Swallowing. A mumbled, “Thanks.”
It could be some guys enjoying the night, but then they’d be unlikely to be so quiet. They might not have anything to do with him, might be muggers waiting for traffic. He could engage them, or he could try to cross down a block. He didn’t mind fighting, even expected to have to fight before the night was over, but he didn’t care about thieves plying their trade.
He backed slowly along the wall until he reached the corner, then walked down a block. He kept his pace slow. If the people in the alley were waiting for him, how would they have known he was coming this way? Had he failed to spot a tail?
Unlikely, but possible.
Matt would have figured he would come and known it had to be tonight. He might have put teams on all four approach vectors. If the ambushes worked, Matt won. If they failed, as long as the attackers weren’t important to him, Matt won that way, too, because Chan lost time.
The other alley entrance would tell the story.
At the end of the block, Chan again edged to the alley opening, stopped, and listened.
This group was far less professional than the first one. Whispered conversation. Intake on a cigarette. A chuckle.
Decision time.
He could slip by them, or he could confront them. If he dealt with them, they’d alert Matt, but there was no down side in that; Matt knew he was coming. Of course, they might hurt him, but he doubted it. He knew the worst he could be facing; they did not. Plus, odds were good that if he didn’t take them out now, he’d see them later. When he reached the club, Matt could call them as reinforcements.
Of course, if he was entirely wrong, if this alley was a neighborhood hangout area, then attacking them would be hurting innocents. If it was a target-rich zone for muggers, he’d be wasting time.
He’d give them a fair chance: Show himself, and let them move first.
He moved back around the corner of the building to prepare. He tied back his hair and rolled his neck and shoulders. He unclipped the holder on the baton in his right jacket sleeve, slid it into his hand, and slowly pulled it open. The lock engaged with a small metallic pop.
He crouched and waited. No way to know if anyone had heard the sound.
No one came.
He let down a purpleheart stake from his left sleeve. If they were human, it made a fine club.
He stood and zipped up his jacket for maximum protection. Its thin Kevlar lining would be little help against high-velocity bullets or direct thrusts with good blades, but every bit of protection was good.
He walked quietly to the edge of the alley, inhaled and focused himself, and stepped into a pool of shadows at its end. His boots hit the street loudly.
Three men swiveled as one to face him. All were tall, over six feet. The two on the sides were also big, guys who hit a gym regularly, while the middle one was weedy thin.
The one on the right was passing a butt to the one on the left but dropped it instantly when Chan appeared.
“Looking for me?” Chan said.
Recognition flared in the eyes of the one on the left.
“Run away,” Chan said, “and I won’t hurt you.”
The guy on the left reached into his pocket. The man in the center backed up a step. The one on the right was better prepared and flicked open a knife, the sound distinctive in the sudden quiet.
That was enough evidence for Chan.
He rushed them, spreading his arms slightly and pulling them back as he covered the three yards to the men.
He swung the stake hard at the knees of the man on the left and felt the shock up to his shoulder as the wood connected with bone. The man was falling, his scream just beginning, as a half second later, Chan slammed the front of both knees of the guy on the right with the baton. The m
an dropped his knife as he fell.
Chan had expected to barrel into the one in the middle, but the guy leapt backward several feet as Chan straightened and stopped.
Too fast. The guy was too fast for human.
Chan backed up a step as the man smiled and bared his fangs. Cocky. Good.
The three men at the other end of the alley ran toward them, but the vamp held up his right hand, and they stopped.
Chan backed up another step, then another. The vamp watched him like a cat stalking a mouse retreating into a corner from which there was no escape.
Chan took one more step, then turned to his right and bolted around the corner. He glanced as he moved; the vamp was smiling.
The moment he was out of sight, Chan did a one-eighty and crouched.
The vamp rounded the corner a fraction of a second later, running faster than any Olympic sprinter.
Chan moved faster still as he jammed the stake up through the rib cage and into the heart of the vampire. Though the vampire was indeed very thin, he was moving fast enough that his momentum helped the stake pierce his heart and carried him and Chan to the ground.
Chan rolled away from the vampire as he dissolved into a small pile of fetid black dust. The humans whose knees he’d shattered were moaning and calling for help.
A deep male voice from down the alley called over their pleas, “Jimmy, stop playing with him.”
Chan stood, doubled over as if hurt, and walked back to the entrance to the alley. “Jimmy’s gone,” he said. “Run away.”
The three men stared at him. The one on the left bared his fangs and howled. “Jimmy was my friend,” he said, “before and after the change.”
Chan stayed bent; every little edge helped, even when he doubted he needed it. “Then he should have left me alone. You could still leave.”
The vampire shook his head. “It was supposed to be quick. Now, it won’t be.”
Chan said nothing. He’d learned all that would matter in the next minute or two. Either Matt hadn’t told them everything he knew about Chan, or Jimmy had been very stupid indeed.
The vampire nodded.
The other two ran toward him.
Good news: They moved at human speeds, so there was only the one remaining vampire.
Bad news: He was smarter than dead Jimmy. He hung back to see how Chan handled himself.
The two men on the ground were struggling to stand. Chan had hit only one knee of the man on the left, so unfortunately he might be able to make it to his feet. The other one couldn’t find a way to do more than sit, so Chan had probably busted both of his knees.
Chan wanted to take out the other knee of the one who might get up, in case he decided to try to go for a weapon or help, but there was no time. He remained bent and considered backing around the corner, but he liked the clear view of all approaches that his current position gave him. Plus, they were unlikely to come as quickly into the same trap he’d used before.
He held his ground but extended his arms and weapons along his legs.
The two men spread so that they’d approach from his ten and two. Each pulled a knife as he ran, neither one big, blades maybe four inches long, but enough to do a lot of damage if they made contact.
Chan shifted two steps closer to the wall and put his back to it to cut their approach angles and to use the guys on the ground to slow them. He stepped forward, moved his right leg backward so it was against the wall, and tensed it.
Three yards out, the one on the right changed direction to avoid the fallen men.
Good. The two of them were now within a yard of each other.
Chan straightened partway as if preparing to fight the two men.
They stopped ten feet out and spread, one going into the street and one coming straight at him.
He glanced up the alley. The vampire hadn’t moved and was watching them closely.
The one on the street stepped closer to him.
Chan pushed hard off the wall and launched himself at the guy in the street. As he moved, he swung the baton in a wide arc toward the man’s shoulder. The guy managed to stab at Chan with his knife, but before he could finish the thrust, the baton smashed his shoulder and Chan was beside him. Chan wrapped his arm around the guy’s throat and spun behind him.
The other guy yelled, a wordless cry of anger and frustration, raised his knife, and rushed forward. Chan pushed his captive into the attacker and followed the body shield forward. When the attacker stepped to his right to avoid his friend, Chan smashed him in the stomach with the edge of the purpleheart stake.
The guy doubled over.
Chan kicked the man in front of him, then turned and slammed his baton into the back of the man’s knee.
The guy fell with a scream, screamed again as his injured knee hit the ground, and rolled onto his back.
Chan checked the vampire again. He still hadn’t moved.
The man whose shoulder Chan had injured dropped his knife and held up his good arm. “No more,” he said. “Please.”
“Too late,” Chan said. He stepped forward and swung the baton hard enough at the guy’s knees that his feet went out from under him and he fell face-first onto the alley.
Chan moved into the center of the alley. He glanced at the four men on the ground. Each had at least one bad knee. The one he’d just hit was unconscious. They wouldn’t bother him or anyone else for quite some time. He faced the vampire at the other end of the alley and never looked away from the guy’s face as he worked. He shoved the baton closed, pushed it quickly into its slot in his sleeve, and snapped shut its clasp. He unsnapped the hold on the short sword on his right sleeve and caught its handle as the sword fell out of his sleeve.
The vampire strolled toward him. If he’d seen Chan change weapons, he gave no sign of having noticed the move. He smiled and spoke. “If my boss’s insurance premiums go up because of what you did to those idiots, he’s going to be pissed. He’s no fun when he’s angry.”
“Last chance,” Chan said. “Walk away.”
The vampire laughed. “You’re good—for a human—but you’re not one of us. You’re the one who should be running.”
“Too bad you can’t ask Jimmy how good I am,” Chan said. He crouched as if bracing for an attack and focused hard on the center of the vampire’s body; the guy would stop playing sometime very soon.
The vampire snarled, showed his fangs again, and darted forward.
Playtime was definitely over.
The vampire accelerated inhumanly rapidly and was two yards away from Chan within seconds.
When the vampire was a yard out, his outstretched fingers almost touching Chan, Chan leapt, also inhumanly fast, right over the guy’s head. As he rose, Chan pivoted so he was facing the guy’s back.
The vampire sputtered a quizzical “Wha—?” as he turned to come again at Chan.
Too late.
Chan swung the short sword as hard as he could at the vampire’s neck. He aimed for the center of the throat but blew the angle and buried the sword deep into the intersection of the neck and the left shoulder. Chan let go of the sword as the vampire screamed and kept coming.
The vampire’s shoulder slammed into Chan and knocked him back several yards and onto his back.
Chan rolled backwards and into a crouch.
The vampire screamed again and with his right arm pulled the sword out of his shoulder.
Chan charged and buried the stake into the vampire’s chest. He missed the heart, but his momentum carried him into the vampire with enough force that the guy went down and Chan stumbled past him a step.
The cut was healing but the vampire’s left arm was still useless, so he dropped the sword and reached for the stake in his chest.
Chan pivoted, grabbed the sword, and swung it hard enough to cut off the vampire’s right hand.
The vampire screamed again. “What are you?” he said. His hand began to grow back.
Chan unclasped the hold on another stake in his left sleev
e. He stood on the vampire’s neck as he positioned the stake over the heart.
“I don’t exactly know,” Chan said, telling the vampire a truth he wouldn’t live long enough to appreciate. He shoved the stake into the vampire’s heart. As the vampire turned to dust, he added, “Not one of you.”
Chan paused to bring his breathing under control and surveyed the alley. The four men were still down, two of them unconscious, the other two watching him. He gathered both stakes and the sword while he considered what to do with them. None of them looked to be in any shape to fight with him. If he left them, however, they might call for help from Matt. He couldn’t have that.
He also had to assume that two more teams awaited him on a similar alley on the other side of the street from Changes. He could make his way around a few blocks and take out those teams, but that would consume even more of his increasingly short time. They wouldn’t fight him in front of the club, but they might join Matt’s men inside. He also had to admit the possibility that one of the other teams was enough better than these two that they could actually hurt him.
“Please,” the man nearest to him said. The man held up his hands in surrender. “We’re done.”
Chan decided he needed to start searching the club more than he needed to further reduce the opposition.
He rifled the pockets of all four men and removed all the knives and mobile phones. The knives were all cheap crap, not a professional blade in the bunch, nothing worth taking. None of the men was smart or professional enough to carry a gun or even a baton. He threw the knives down the alley and smashed all of the phones except one.
Matt couldn’t have believed these guys could stop him, so his goal must have been to use them to waste his time. They’d managed to do that, but not a lot of it.
Chan took the phone to the nearest conscious man and knelt beside him.
The guy pushed backward in fear.
“Call 9-1-1,” Chan said. “Tell them where you are, that four of you are down. Say a big vampire attacked you but ran off when some strangers saw him bending over you. Stick to that story when they show up, or I’ll find you again.”
The guy nodded and reached for the phone.
Chan held onto it. “What did Matt tell you about me?”
The Wild Side: Urban Fantasy with an Erotic Edge Page 24