by Riley Storm
Of course, then he’d have to follow up with the pants, and wouldn’t he look weird walking down the streets in dress shoes, boxers, and a dress shirt.
I could pull it off.
He snorted to himself, smiling ruefully at the image before focusing on his quarry, directing all his attention forward, to what was in front of him. Rann absolutely did not want his mind wandering to what was behind him. That would lead him down a path of thoughts he simply did not need to travel at the moment. It would do nothing but distract him if he pondered it.
How can I not though? I’m creeping along in a suit when I should be out on a date with Gayle.
Up ahead, the medium-build male in a denim jacket and black rain pants turned the corner, heading past a dimly-lit convenience store and into the darkened commercial area at the south edge of town.
Rann could no longer follow on the rooftops of the storefront shops. So he waited until his quarry had gone a bit further and then he leapt down. He landed in a crouch on his toes, knees bent to absorb the impact, fingers spread to help silence the landing. Dress shoes were not ideal for stealthy movement, so he had to keep that in mind.
Where are you going, Jed?
Following in silence, Rann’s mind wandered once more. To where he should be. To whom he should be with.
Unfortunately, when someone chooses not to open a door, there’s little to be done about it. Sure, he could have kicked the door in and confronted Gayle, but that would have achieved the exact opposite effect of what he was striving for. The goal was to have her want to spend time with him.
Not to try and have him spend time behind bars. If she wasn’t ready to talk after the fiasco that was Sunday, then he simply had to give her a bit more time. That was the only option that wasn’t creepy or pushy. She needed space, and Rann would respect that need.
Even if he’d bought a brand new suit just for the occasion, so that he could look good for her.
It’s not like I would ever buy a suit for myself. These things are ridiculously uncomfortable.
Shaking his head, he padded forward on the toes of his shoes, sticking to the shadows, staying effectively invisible to Jed, who rarely looked behind him. He wasn’t afraid of being followed, it seemed.
Considering you lied to me, Jed, you probably should.
In fact, Jed had not only lied, but he’d then refused any sort of contact with Rann. As if he knew he was in deep shit and hoped that, if he ignored it, it would go away.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Rann had gone over to the place where Jed had been ‘living’—a low-rent set of apartments that his government subsidy barely covered, but he’d arrived just in time to see his informant leaving. Now he was about to find out just where Jed was going to.
Jed led him deep into the commercial district, finally ducking down between two newer buildings, one a warehouse, the other a workshop of some sort. Rann waited and then followed, ducking low and turning sideways as he wormed his way along a path between empty crates, stacks of piled skids, and more than a few pieces of castoff machinery.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if it was a trap, Jed came to a halt. The pathway widened, stopping out front of a boarded-up, rundown old steel building out behind the commercial shop. It was decrepit and looked like a stiff breeze might knock it over, but it was rather large, and it was hidden from the street. In fact, unless someone knew exactly which set of buildings to come down between, they would never find it.
It was a great hideout. The question that remained, was whose. Rann had an idea, but that wasn’t enough to go on. He needed more information.
Rann walked up to the door and very gently tugged on the handle. It opened freely. He pulled it just wide enough to slip inside, immediately crouching to the ground as he heard voices from deeper within.
There had been little in the way of light outside, but the interior was effectively pitch black. Rann closed his eyes for a moment, letting them switch to night vision. When he opened them again, the interior was displayed in black and white, his dragon gifts taking over.
The door he’d entered from was almost in a corner. A long row of shelving ran straight forward on his right, while perhaps ten feet to his left the outside wall did the same. Boxes of some sort occupied much of the shelving, but Rann could get glimpses and peeks through it.
On the other side, there was simply another row of shelving. Storage was all it was. Rann would have to move to the end of the shelving to get a good glimpse of what was past it. The shadows in his night vision were much fewer at the far end, indicating a light source somewhere off to the right.
Rann slowed as he reached the end and paused when a sliver of space between some of the boxes let him see what lay beyond.
He had to fight back a hiss.
Standing not twenty feet away from him was the former preacher of the Church of the Anti-Wyrm.
Blood boiled in his veins. The man he was looking at was responsible for several acts of atrocity against clan Atrox. He’d kidnapped Claire and then her parents, trying to use them to get Claire to accept the transformation into a vampire. That was just one thing, but in Rann’s eyes, it was enough to sentence him to death.
Usually, he didn’t enjoy killing humans, and in fact did everything he could to save them from the creatures of his world. For this man though, Rann would make an exception.
The Church itself was one of several groups that had arisen after the reveal of dragons on live television. They proclaimed the shifters to be sent by Satan, his horned followers and disciples.
Blah, blah, blah.
That’s what the preacher was going on about now, though Rann tuned it out. He’d heard the rhetoric before; it was always the same.
If he’s preaching though, that means he has an audience. More than just Jed, I’d hazard.
Rann crept forward a bit more until he could ever-so-slightly stick his head around the corner.
About a dozen humans were standing on the ground, whilst the preacher railed against the dragons from an elevated platform. He stopped right as Rann stuck his head around the corner, and for a heart-stopping moment, Rann thought he’d been caught.
“Now, let me introduce to you to two people you haven’t met, and one that might be a bit familiar,” said the bald, wiry male with eyes dark enough to be black, despite their feverish glow. “Eli, Roh, please, step forward.”
Metal shelving trembled under Rann’s grip as two unmistakable figures stepped forward out of a darkness even his vision couldn’t penetrate.
Vampires.
I knew it! I knew the damn Church and the vamps were in league together. I fucking bloody well knew it!
Rann almost stepped around the corner then and there, incensed by the appearance of the creatures of the Otherworld, but he stopped himself. The two vampires, he noted, appeared…healthy. It was the only word that fit. They had shed the pitch-black skin tone they’d had upon appearing from the Otherworld, and now their skin was nearly pale. Nearly human.
In fact, if they hadn’t moved with the superhuman grace of creatures born of another dimension, he might have passed them on the street and never known.
Before he could analyze the situation further, everything changed.
“Let me introduce to you, a new face. One you may recognize,” the preacher said with a chuckle. “Isabella, you may show yourself.”
A third figure stepped forward. A tall, athletically built woman. Skin a shade paler than normal. And two very noticeable bite marks on her neck.
Sonofabitch.
Rann stared in astonishment as the woman he and millions of others had seen bled dry on local TV smiled at the gathering.
“They’re building an army,” he whispered, in a mixture of shock and horror.
Everything was becoming clearer now.
First, the video had been a fraud. Unless they had simply been watching the creation of a vampire without knowing it. To his knowledge, nobody had ever seen how it was d
one. Secondly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been aired on purpose. To show humans what else was out there. To make them feel like the dragons couldn’t protect them.
Rann wasn’t sure yet what the vamps hoped to accomplish from that, but he knew they had to be up to something. Perhaps they were going to use fear to recruit more to their cause. He didn’t know.
Second, however, was that this woman had wanted to be turned into a vampire. That she’d actually desired it. After all, that was the only way the change could take. The person had to go into it willingly. If they fought, the vampire DNA would kill them. Which meant the dragons now had to contend with at least three vampires.
Four, he corrected, spying a set of much smaller marks on the preacher’s neck. Older marks. He had been taken quite some time before, judging by the difference.
The third thing Rann realized was the purpose of the audience. These had to be the most fanatical of the Church, the ones who believed most thoroughly that the dragons were evil.
How long, I wonder, until the preacher or this woman offers them a way to ‘fight back’? To gain the power to do what must be done. Sacrifice themselves for the greater good.
He wanted to snort at the ludicrous notion but knew that many would fall for it. They would accept the vampires’ ‘gift’ in exchange for being able to stop the evil tide of dragons.
“Jed,” the woman called. “Come forth and receive your gift.”
Rann’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl as ‘his’ informant took to the stage.
The woman—Isabella—smiled, stroking the man’s face as she pushed him to his knees. Jed trembled at her touch, but he sank to the ground, ready to receive his blessing.
Isabella’s teeth lengthened, her jaw opening wider than any human as she prepared to feed.
Rann shook his head as he realized that he wouldn’t stop it. He could if he chose to. He even wanted to. The sight of Jed being turned into a vampire made Rann see red. Burning the place down in a wall of flame would bring him immense satisfaction.
It would also kill the dozen or so humans gathered about watching the ceremony. Humans who still had a chance to redeem themselves, to be saved.
Rann was many things, but he wasn’t an indiscriminate murderer.
Not to mention I have no idea how many more vampires might be hiding in here or nearby.
Taking on three vampires was a task in itself. Rann needed to get out, grab his team, and come back in force the next night, when they could be sure to catch everyone. To make a plan and get all the vampires in one go.
Turning he crept for the back door, hating himself for leaving, but knowing it was the smart decision in the grand scheme of it all.
I’m going to be the clan leader, I need to think long-term, big-picture. The others need to know what’s going on in here.
So he raced back out into the night, heading back up the mountain.
Even as he did, a part of his mind stayed behind, stuck at the door to a small bungalow and its sole occupant.
Chapter Twenty
Gayle
“All recovered from the weekend now?”
Gayle stiffened, glancing up at Claire as she approached the worktable.
“What do you mean?” she asked warily.
Had someone told Claire what had happened? The only people who knew were Gayle’s parents and Rann. He had better not have blabbed to her about the catastrophe that was Sunday morning!
Gayle gritted her teeth, trying to temper her anger at the idea.
“Oh nothing,” Claire said as she grabbed a bag and started placing items in it with practiced ease. “I just figured that maybe you’d had a bit too much to drink. I know we left a bit early and you hadn’t really started drinking yet, but it was your birthday, after all.”
They’d been making the same kits at Balance the Scales for several weeks now, and it only took a few hours to get good at it. The pair could talk and work at the same time without fear of making a mistake.
Gayle relaxed. “No,” she said. “I didn’t feel like dealing with the hangover. You know how it is.”
Claire snorted. “Trust me, I know far too well. Once you hit thirty, they become two-day hangovers, right?”
They laughed, each finishing up a kit and tossing it into the completed bins and reaching for another pair of bags, flapping the ends to use air to open them fully.
“The worst,” Gayle confirmed. “I just had a few drinks. It was a really nice time, but nobody was drinking that way, so I didn’t feel the need for it, you know?”
“Hey, no pressure,” Claire said with a grin. “How did things go with Rann, by the way?”
“What do you mean?”
Claire frowned. “Weren’t you two supposed to hang out last night? Spend some time together so you could be comfortable faking it at the wedding?”
“Oh. We didn’t see each other last night,” Gayle said tightly, hoping Claire would get the hint and drop the subject.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them.
“Is this all we have?” Claire asked eventually. “Seems low.”
Grateful to the other woman for not pushing the subject, Gayle looked up from her work. “I think we’re getting another truck today,” she said.
“It won’t be enough. We’re going through the kits too fast,” Claire pointed out. “We’re going to run out, and it’s going to get bad out there.”
“It’s already bad out there,” Gayle said. “We need more help. More aid.”
“Think the mayor will call in the state or even the national guard?” Claire mused, thinking aloud.
“I hope it doesn’t get to that,” Gayle said. “But if I’m honest, I’m kind of shocked we haven’t had to yet. There’s what, closing in on ten thousand people out there, between this field and the one on the south side of the interstate?”
“I think that’s the latest estimate I heard, yeah,” Claire agreed with a nod, doing up the zipper on her bag and tossing it into the finished pile.
“There’s no way Five Peaks could have provided all this aid so fast,” Gayle said. “It shouldn’t have been feasible. We’re too small of a town for it.”
“This isn’t publicly funded though,” Claire said.
“It’s not? I thought it was.”
“No. It’s the dr—the Five,” Claire corrected herself. “The families have done it all. From tent rentals to paying for supplies, food trucks and deliveries, the soup kitchens. Even the port-a-potties were organized by them. It’s quite the operation.”
“Amazing,” Gayle said thoughtfully.
Though she’d been volunteering there longer than Claire, she’d not actually thought much about who was organizing it, just that she was thankful that someone was. Now she wondered if there was perhaps a way to convince the Five to do more.
The Five, as they were called, was the colloquial term for the five richest families in Five Peaks. The founding families, as some called them, given that they had apparently been in town since it was founded in the early 1900s by gold prospectors. Each one had taken their name from a surrounding mountain when they had arrived, or so legend went.
Aterna. Teres. Valen. Atrox. Rixa.
Everyone who grew up in town knew the names, though few knew any members of the family. They were reclusive, leading to some nasty rumors, though Gayle had never taken part in the gossip.
Her thoughts were disrupted by the loud warning beep of a truck as it backed up.
“Do you mind getting that?” she asked Claire, trying not to let her tension show.
There was no guarantee that Rann was behind the wheel, of course, and deep down she knew it was highly unlikely, but she’d still rather not take the chance. She just wasn’t ready to see him. Maybe eventually, but not today.
“Yeah sure, no problem,” Claire said with a smile, her eyes lingering on Gayle before she went off to greet the driver and sign for the shipment.
Gayle put her head down and kept maki
ng kits, trying not to think back to Sunday. To the embarrassment of it all. It had gotten worse after he’d left, and that was just another of the long list of reasons why she didn’t want to see him.
Men were not high on her list of positive people lately. They always seemed to make her life worse, in some way or another. Rann wasn’t anything like Mikey, of course, but she just could not deal with the drama.
“Yeah, she’s over there.”
Gayle stiffened as she heard Claire’s voice. Damn. She’d hoped that Claire had gotten the hint, that Gayle did not want to see Rann. After all, who else would she be telling where Gayle was?
Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. Walking toward her was a giant of a man, his long hair falling free to his shoulders, framing a pair of bright green eyes that were fixed on her, like a predator stalking its prey. Except Gayle never felt in any danger.
Even just knowing he was around, she felt safer already. Safer from what, she didn’t know.
I don’t even want to see him, yet having him around I feel more at ease. This is ridiculous!
There was no escaping it though. They were going to have this conversation, it seemed. She steeled herself and turned to face him.
Rann stopped several feet short of her, staying well out of her personal space.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
They stared at each other in silence. She looked down, then away, then back up at him. There was a hardness to his eyes that she’d not seen before. He was guarded. Wary.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said bluntly. “Haven’t been responding to my texts or opening the door.”
Rann stopped after that, giving Gayle the floor to respond.
“I know,” she said softly. “After Sunday…Rann, it was too much. Too much like a real relationship. Meeting my parents, them inviting you to brunch. I can’t do that right now; you’ve got to understand. I just got out of a relationship that ended in the worst way.”
He rumbled a wordless understanding, and she forged ahead, the words coming faster and easier.
“This was just supposed to be about us showing up at their wedding for shits and giggles. Making them jealous and uncomfortable by showing I don’t care, that I’m having fun without them. Now, you’re sleeping over at my house, sleeping with me. You met my parents, and they liked you,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration at the entire situation.