Dev and Gábor moved to stand on either side of the doors while Jacken and Sedge knelt down at their sides, all of them with their rifles jacked back against their shoulders.
Jacken reached up and pushed the open button.
Dev breathed slowly through his nostrils as the doors slid open onto a hallway off a parking garage, a door at the end, a stairway off to the right.
The muscles along Dev’s shoulders snapped taut. He applied steady pressure to his trigger—then released. Nobody.
They didn’t have a clear view through the door, though.
Jacken rose smoothly to his feet and gestured Dev to the stairway for a better visual.
Holding his rifle in one hand, Dev ran two steps and grabbed the railing with his other, inhumanly managing his entire body weight with one arm as he swung himself up and over. He landed silently on the stairs right across from the door, adrenaline blasting through him. He brought up his M4 again and sighted along the stock. Clear.
He gestured to his team.
Jacken flowed in a half-crouch down the hall, weapon raised. He surged through the door, scanning the entire garage. “Clear,” he said.
They experienced a collective tension power-down.
“One secured,” Sedge said. “Only three more entrances to go.” Sedge’s cell beeped the arrival of a message. “Whoa, what’s up with this?” He reached for the phone on his belt. “I thought we were off-comm.”
“It’s coming from up here,” Jacken said.
Sedge looked down at his cell screen. “It’s from Kimberly. She wants me to call her.” His mouth curved into a distracted frown. “This message was sent hours ago.”
Jacken cracked open the stock of his rifle and checked the ammo. “It couldn’t get through to you down in Ţărână, so it’s just been up here floating around on airwaves until we—” Jacken’s cell phone beeped.
A second later Gábor’s.
They exchanged looks.
Grimly, Jacken checked his phone. “Mine’s from Kimberly, too. She wants me to call.”
Gábor looked down at his screen, looked up. Nodded.
Sedge’s hand absently lifted to his breastbone.
Dev’s phone beeped. Three pairs of intense eyes watched him pull his cell out of the thigh pocket of his black cargo pants and read the message. Where is everybody, for God’s sake? Call right away! Kimberly. Dev’s throat clamped. “Mine’s from Kimberly, too, and she sounds urgent.”
Sedge whitened. With overly precise fingers, he dialed his phone, then lifted it to his ear.
Dev watched him, feeling antsy. If Sedge’s radar was pinging for a real reason, had Dev’s been, too?
“Shit,” Sedge ground out. “Our comm is still screwed up. No outgoing calls, just incoming messages.”
Jacken slammed his rifle back into the holster across his back. “Move out,” he ordered.
They became the night.
They raced over rooftops, harnessing the power of the moon and the stars, effortlessly flying across the wide chasms that separated one building from the next. On the ground, they slipped invisibly from one patch of shadow to the next. Civilians on the street might sense a shift in the air around them when they passed, but that was all. They were Vârcolac in their element.
They headed to Kimberly’s office first. If she wasn’t there, they’d go to her topside apartment, and after that…nobody wanted to think about after that. It brought up too many images of finding her tortured body in a dumpster.
The four of them landed noiselessly on the roof of Kimberly’s two-story office bungalow. Light glowed in her window: good news, hopefully.
Below on the street, a man walked his dog.
Crouched low to the shingles, Dev paced the two. Keeping his breathing even, he drew deep quiet lungfuls of the night into his chest, filling himself with otherworldly power. Times like these, he hated living in a cave.
Man and dog disappeared around a corner.
At a gesture from Jacken, Dev and Gábor remained poised on the edge of the roof while Sedge and Jacken slipped soundlessly to the second floor balcony.
Sedge handed his rifle to Jacken, gesturing his boss to stay back, then just walked through the door.
Mouth tight, Jacken pressed against the wall.
“Sedge!” Kimberly exclaimed.
“Hey, Berly baby. I brought you some chocolates.”
“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day!”
There was an expelled sigh. “That’s not the way you’re supposed to answer the code. ‘Yes, I love chocolates’ means that there’re no bad guys lurking about. ‘No’ is…”
Jacken looked up at Dev and Gábor, one eyebrow lifted at a sardonic angle. “I guess we’re clear,” he whispered, then pushed into the office.
Dev and Gábor descended fluidly to the balcony and followed him inside.
Sedge was pulling his wife into a relieved embrace, but the moment Kimberly saw Dev, she broke free and rushed over to him.
“Thank God, you’re here,” she cried out. “It’s Marissa, Dev! He took her!”
Dev slammed to a halt, his chest collapsing. He?
Kimberly clutched his forearm, her complexion chalk-white. “I was left behind to give you a message.”
Dev felt the oxygen leave his lungs. He felt his palms turn to ice. “What message?” he snarled. His eyes exploded with Pure-bred fire as the first winds of an incredible tornado of fury whirled to life inside him.
Chapter Forty-Three
Topside, 8:17 p.m.
“Please, don’t do this,” Marissa begged, gripping the edge of the limousine’s leather seat.
Her captor didn’t get a chance to respond.
They appeared suddenly, dropping from the tops of the tall buildings with cat-like stealth, landing silently in the alley on widespread legs. Motionless as shadowed night, they stood just beyond the beam of the limousine’s headlights, three sets of massive shoulders silhouetted against a single streetlamp further down the alleyway.
A primordial hush descended with them; traffic noises faded to an indiscriminate, rambling hum, and the night watch at the nearby 32nd Street Naval shipyard stopped their shouting and hammering. Off to the right, a manhole cover belched out a steady boil of steam, wispy fingers that wended around their legs and trailed up their bodies like a ghost’s caress.
“My, how atmospheric,” Raymond Parthen commented glibly from where he sat watching through the window of his plush limousine. “For all their shortcomings, the Vârcolac certainly know how to make an entrance.” He pulled on one leather glove, then another, the set a perfect match for his camel-hair coat. “Good call on your friend, my dear. The lawyer obviously passed on the particulars of this rendezvous as was required.” He glanced across at Murk and Videon. “Gird your loins, lads, it’s time to negotiate—do not shoot anyone.”
The Topside Om Rău called Teer—Gangrene Face—stayed behind the wheel of the limousine, a pistol on the seat beside him, while Murk and Videon climbed out and positioned themselves on either side of the car, both armed with nasty-looking black rifles.
With a debonair smile, Raymond offered Marissa a gloved hand. “Shall we?”
A shiver flitted up Marissa’s spine. She made no move to take Raymond’s hand. The moment she stepped out of this limo, Dev’s life would be in danger. Raymond had no intention of negotiating. He was going to threaten the Vârcolac, and use her to do it, which meant Dev was going to go bananas, and that would probably get him killed. “Please, don’t do this,” she said again.
“Ever so sorry, my dear.” Raymond thrust open the limo door. “I must have Toni returned to me, and you’re my trump card for achieving that end.”
She shrank back against the seat when he reached for her. “You don’t even know if Toni can be useful to you,” she argued. “You’re hurting people for no good reason.”
His smile returned, frightening and chilling. “Perhaps I would like to be r
eunited with my long-lost daughter. Antoĩnetta has acquired some…interesting powers which require discussion.” He took Marissa by the arm and pulled her out onto the street next to him.
The moment her shoes touched the asphalt, tension heightened at the other end of the alley. Dev was the man furthest on the right. She recognized the shape of his silhouette, even though his body was shimmering closer to disappearing than the others, making it difficult for her to catch his eye to—to what? Silently beg him to stay calm when she knew that would be impossible in the face of what Raymond Parthen was about to do?
Videon hocked back and spit in the direction of the three Vârcolac.
No one at the far end of the alley moved, all three figures remaining inhumanly motionless.
Her stomach lurched. Maybe she’d go ahead and barf her guts out now that she wasn’t in the limo anymore, where puking probably wouldn’t have been appreciated by her refined, yet ruthless, captor.
“Let’s crack on with matters, lads,” Raymond said. “Is Toni’s grotesque among you?”
Jacken stepped into the white wedge of headlights cast by the limo, his upper lip curled into a sneer. “Here.”
“Ah, yes, there you are, old tosser.” Raymond ran his gaze over Jacken and tutted. “Sixpence short of a shilling Toni was, I say, to have chosen you for her husband. I still can’t fathom it. But that’s neither here nor there. Right, then. There’s to be an exchange, Vârcolac. A simple enough construct even for a man of your suspect intellectual capabilities.”
Jacken’s sneer deepened, showing a glimpse of a fang. “Have I mentioned that Toni and I won’t be visiting for Christmas, Dad?”
Raymond’s lids hooded. “We shall meet here tomorrow at the same time, at which point I’ll trade this lovely lady in my possession for Toni. Understood?”
Jacken didn’t answer, his eyes drilling into Toni’s father. He never once glanced at Marissa.
Raymond paused, pretending to ruminate. “Now hold a moment…since we’re considering this exchange nonsense anyway, let’s just make this a two-for-two trade, shall we?”
Oh, God, here it comes. He’s actually going to do this. Marissa closed her eyes, the muscles along her throat growing taut as she wished herself anywhere but here. If only she’d made a different decision at any point along the way during the last eleven hours, she wouldn’t be in this pickle.
If only she hadn’t gotten into a huff about Natalie teaching the chef seminar and left the hotel.
If only she hadn’t called Candace while Detectives Waterson and Ramirez were at the morgue investigating her death. The Traveler’s cell phone had been nestled among her personal effects and the police had naturally run the incoming phone number. As soon as the name Marissa Bonaventure had popped up, they’d come for her.
If only Marissa hadn’t called Kimberly to get her released from the police station. The skilled lawyer had managed it, of course; Marissa had only been brought in for “questioning.” But not before Marissa’s name had been inputted into the SDPD system. Who knew that the Topside Om Rău had planted alerts in police computers, not just at hospitals? The Vârcolac hadn’t. She and Kimberly made it only two unconcerned blocks from the police station before they were nabbed by Raymond and his minions. Oh, and such a lovely trip down memory lane these last eleven hours had been, getting kidnapped again and hanging out with all of her old Topside Om Rău chums.
If only she’d never left Dev in the first place, but remained at home, in his arms and his bed.
“Tomorrow,” Raymond continued in an acid tone, “you’ll bring Toni and my son, Alex, and we’ll exchange those two for this one”—he pointed at Marissa—“and…” He shifted his finger down to point at her belly, “that one.”
Marissa steeled herself for Dev’s reaction, the breath backing up in her lungs. But…
There was only silence.
A breeze twisted the smoky steam dancing around the booted feet of the Vârcolac into mini dervishes. Coat hems lifted and tendrils of hair stirred. Several brown autumn leaves skipped across the alley with a brittle rattle. Otherwise, nothing.
Raymond sighed, long-winded and full of exasperation. “You Vârcolac genuinely are a group of bumbling Monty Pythons, aren’t you? You can’t see how this could come about?” He adjusted the cuff of one of his expensive gloves. “I most certainly do. You see, my dear chaps, I’ve been learning all manner of fascinating tidbits about your breed from the Om Rău mother of my children, Yavell. Apparently, when a Vârcolac’s mate goes into estrus, the bloke scents it on her and goes a bit barmy, doing the business with her constantly till she’s well and truly in a family way. This leave little room for happy surprises, so I imagine you gents think I’m lying.” His voice slid into dark and silky realms. “Ah, but mistakes do happen, even in your world. Just to entertain ourselves, let’s pretend this lovely lady’s husband had relations with her right before she barred herself away from his unromantic attentions. She proceeds to ovulate while his giddy swimmers are still loitering about, and voilà!”
Out of the blackened shadows of the alley, a fiery light sparked.
Dev’s eyes.
Bile crawled up the back of Marissa’s throat. No, Dev, just keep thinking he’s lying.
“Still nothing from you fellows? Very well.” Raymond pulled out a hypodermic needle from his coat pocket and popped the plastic cap off with his thumb. “If I’m lying then this abortifacient won’t have any effect on the lady whatsoever.” He rammed the needle into Marissa’s arm.
She screamed.
A hair-raising howl tore out of Dev as he came flying down the length of the alley in one huge leap, trench coat flaring wide, legs cycling the air.
Cursing and shouting, Murk and Videon yanked up their rifles and stumbled backward.
Dev landed hard several feet away, his eyes white lightning, twin killing fangs thrusting down from his upper jaw.
Raymond tensed, and a hot pulse of electricity ripped painfully through Marissa’s body.
“Stop!” she yelled at her husband. “Dev, please, don’t do anything. I am pregnant, it’s true. Mr. Parthen made me take a test to—”
Dev took a threatening step forward, air hissing viciously between teeth and fangs.
“Devid, no!” Tears began to fall down her face. God help her, Raymond’s thumb was still on the hypodermic plunger. “I know every atom in your body wants to protect me and the baby right now, but the only way you can do that is to back away.”
“Listen to the girl,” Raymond cautioned, his voice cutting like diamonds over glass. “Don’t do anything foolish, and that includes your mate who has us in his rifle sights from atop that building over there. Bullets have little effect on me, Vârcolac. If you shoot, I’ll depress this plunger, and then your woman will be spilling claret onto the street before you can say Bob’s your uncle.”
Dev bellowed, his expression black hell.
Marissa choked on a quiet sob, her arm aching from the sharp pierce of the needle. “He’ll abort our baby if you don’t do as he says, Dev. He will.”
Jacken and Sedge grabbed Dev by the shoulders.
“Enough discussion.” Raymond commanded. “We’ll meet here tomorrow, gentlemen. You comprehend the terms.” He moved back toward the open door of the limo.
She stepped carefully along with him, very aware of the dangerous needle still in her arm.
Dev stalked their every movement with predatory eyes, his face a mask of chiseled fury. She’d never seen her husband with so much wrath and hatred on his face; she hadn’t even known he was capable of it.
“Just go get Toni,” she whispered to him. “She’ll know what to do.”
Raymond pushed Marissa into the limo, removing the needle as he did, and closed the door.
Murk and Videon climbed in after them, and then the limousine lurched into motion.
Twisting in her seat, Marissa looked out the rear window, watching Dev break free from Jacken and Sedge and race down the street after
them.
The limousine’s tires smoked, sending up the stench of burnt rubber as Teer took off.
Dev threw back his head and howled, the cords in his neck striated, his forearms knotted. Streetlights popped apart overhead like Fourth of July fireworks, and the limo swerved crazily as glass rained down onto the hood, the roof, the street. The road soon looked carpeted with chunky ice.
Raymond relaxed back in his seat and peeled off his leather gloves. One of his blond eyebrows twitched. “Impressive.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Wind rushed down the length of the alley, bullying paper trash out of dumpsters and whirling the bits of litter around each other in what looked like a bizarre mating ritual. It also buffeted the stench of human waste and decay at their group, odors they all would’ve preferred to have left un-smelled. Behind him, Dev sensed Breen and Kasson tense. Those two rarely came topside—they couldn’t handle the scents—but both would’ve leveled anyone who’d dared suggest they stay behind. Every swinging dick was needed in the field for this.
Dev narrowed his gaze on the end of the alley, his eyes feeling packed in hot sand from how long they’d been ignited, and he had the worst headache of his life from the number of hours his fangs had been elongated. Twenty-three long hours, to be exact, that he’d been stewing in worry and hatred, his internal radar a constant, annoying ping.
Last night, in this very alley, he’d felt like a stick shift some first timer had been trying to learn how to drive, lurching forward, then stalling out, gears grinding, whining, screaming, his body racing forward again, then crashing to a stop. He’d never wanted anything more than to jump Parthen’s shit and get his wife back, but…fuck, Parthen’s thumb had never wavered from that hypo plunger. One push of that evil fucking thumb, and Dev would’ve lost the chance to meet the little being who even now was struggling to grow big enough to come into this world. He would’ve likewise deprived his wife of the same precious opportunity, and with Marissa crying and begging him to “back off,” what was he supposed to do? She never would’ve forgiven him if he’d blown it. Would he have forgiven himself? The whole hosed-up situation had firmly wedged his balls between a rock and a hard place.
The Community Series, Books 1-3 Page 64