Legacy Sanguis

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Legacy Sanguis Page 10

by Timothy A. Ray


  “I will start here, then work my way forward through everyone you have ever come into contact with. You’ll either break and hand her over, or I’ll eventually run out of people you do know and start in on ones you don’t. As you can imagine, I have all the time in the world. These people? Their time is quickly running out and you alone can save them. Your choice Mr. Crawford,” the voice stated, then went quiet.

  The screen faded to black and the battery began to feel hot to the touch, a bit of smoke starting to rise from the inner casing.

  “Ow! What the fuck?” he nearly screamed, as his phone began to spout flame.

  Naomi reached back, snatched it out of his hand and threw it out the window. “I told you not to answer it!”

  “I didn’t!” he snapped back. “I just clicked on the man’s profile, nothing more! How was I supposed to know that would happen?”

  “She’s angry because we didn’t know it could happen either,” Scalps said before she could yell at him again. “There has to be something important about this one, it may not have been an accident like we thought. Either she means something else to this master of hers, or she has knowledge he doesn’t want us to have.”

  “Renny, search her. See if she has anything that might make a master go to war over. Yeah, Crawford was contacted through his fucking Facebook, if you can believe that shit. Well, they hacked his phone and overloaded it, it’s roasting on the side of the interstate right now. If she doesn’t have anything on her, it must be in her head. We need to find out what it is quickly, or we may have a bigger mess to clean up here than we thought. All right, we’re ten minutes out, see you then.”

  Even with his wife’s capture the nightmare hadn’t ended; in fact, it had just grown far far worse. The question was why? Why the hell was it happening to him?

  III

  “London has been calling,” Renny told them as they walked towards the porch of the plantation house. “I picked it up once, but they insisted on talking to you. Think this situation has got them worried.”

  London has been calling? Are they part of Her Majesty’s Secret Service? Maybe they are tailors?

  “They’re not the only ones,” Naomi said in a lower tone, her composure resigned to some unknown fate. “I’ll call them. Did you find anything?”

  Renny had shifted his attention his way as he drew closer, a smirk on his face. He shrugged as he said, “only her cell. It’s encrypted. Speedy is trying to crack it right now.”

  Scalps had driven away after dropping them off and Naomi didn’t say anything further as she pushed through the front door and out of sight.

  “You decided to take the blue pill huh?” Renny observed. “Welcome to the real world.”

  He smiled, but he didn’t feel like laughing. People he hardly knew were about to die for no other reason than they’d grown up in his orbit; it was wrong and too disturbing to contemplate. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

  “Neither do we, it’s a first. Usually if a newborn gets captured the master heads into obscurity, off the grid and completely untraceable. That’s why we weren’t trying to kill her at your apartment. We were trying to tag and release her back into the wild. That way we could track her back to their hideout without alerting the bastard that made her; lead us straight to him. Still might have tried that even now, except that video message changes things.”

  “Yeah, he may want her back, but something tells me it’s not her he’s truly after. He’d surely kill her the instant she returned. She has exposed him and forced him to act; there will be consequences for that. If he cared that much for her, he’d never have sent her off on her own in the first place. There has to be something vitally important that we’re missing for him to go through this much trouble,” Renny finished as he pitched his cigarette onto the lawn and turned towards the front door. “Though, we may not have a choice. Who knows how many he’ll kill if he goes on a rampage. There’s only so many of us as it is; we’re already stretched a bit thin cleaning up her mess.”

  Two people were standing in the foyer looking at the room to the left, the door shut, the sounds of voices arguing inside. The woman on the left was short, about his age, with thin features and a shaved head. She had on a white T-shirt and a pair of tan shorts, her milky Asian skin looking smooth and unblemished, the belt around her waist with a scabbard attached being the only item out of place.

  The other woman was slightly taller but not by much, with light brown skin, short blond hair, and bright blue eyes. She had on a white undershirt with a light brown collared shirt unbuttoned over the top and a pair of patched blue jeans that looked like they’d been put through the ringer. Her hair had been braided into dreads and as her rounder face turned towards him, he felt like a goose had walked over his grave; he fought off an involuntary shiver. It was like she was looking straight through him, at everything he was or might yet be. As if she had simply opened the book of his life and started to read through every page with painstakingly attention.

  “You’re scaring our guests,” Renny said to the woman as he stepped forward and embraced her, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “It nuh haad to scare dat one. Surprise him sticking round, nuh tink it just cuz of fi him wife eitha,” she said in a heavy Jamaican accent.

  “Il a vu la mort et a survécu,” the other woman said, glancing at him once more.

  He was starting to become uncomfortable with the attention, as well as not understanding anything they said. He needed a universal translator.

  “Il va le faire ou le briser, avec un peu de chance, pas quand la vie de,” the woman Renny was hugging responded.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand any of that,” he told them, shrugging and confused. “I know some broken Spanish, but that’s about it. Maybe some Pig Latin if you really pushed me.”

  “Yuh understand more dan you’ll admit,” the darker woman answered, then turned to the much taller man before her. “ToH versed SoH neH latlh Hol, 'oH neH ghewmey tlhoj SoH 'ach. VItna'.”

  “That sounded like Klingon,” he said in astonishment. How nerdy was that if he were right? He’d watched way too many tv shows and it was showing.

  “It is, she’s just showing off,” Renny muttered, stepping away. “Probably best we stick to English around him. He’s as nervous as a jackrabbit dodging cars on the motorway. This is my wife Ayana, she does most of our research and is versed in nine languages, one of them obviously fictional.

  “Yuh sey,” Ayana replied with a smile.

  Renny ignored her as he motioned towards the Asian woman hovering nearby, “this is Kayumi. She handles all our hunting needs. In fact, you two should spend some time together; you’ll need something more than your good looks if you plan on fighting vampires.”

  “Wait, I’m good looking?” he snarked, trying to hide his uneasiness behind humor; it was not working.

  “Probably best I wait and hear that from Naomi first?” Kayumi asked after giving him a slight nod. “She’s got enough on her plate without feeling like we’re pressuring her into something.”

  Ayana took a couple of steps and locked eyes with him, his head swimming as if she were in there playing around a bit. He reached up and made sure his hat was in place, and suddenly wondered what kind of research she did; if it were magical in nature. “Yuh need fi be sure bout dis decision. Yuh at a crossroads. Yuh can freely guh home, guh live yuh life, lef di rest of dis to us, dead an old man wid yuh grandkids at yuh side. But eff yuh choose to stay wid us, di path dark an lonely an there can be no promises weh it mind end nor ow soon.”

  “Okay, it’s a little early to be expecting him to make a choice like that. He hasn’t even been read in on what we’re about or what we do,” Renny told his wife, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

  Ayana shook his hand away. “No. Wen Naomi steps free of har conversation an rejoins us, di choice wi be make. Eff him wa guh home, him needs to duh suh now.”

  He nodded in understanding and didn’t brea
k away from her gaze. “My home is in one of these rooms sleeping off the drugs your boy Scalps hit her with. Without her, I have nothing to return to, my home no more. If it’s all right by you, I think I’ll stay a bit longer.”

  “As yuh sey,” Ayana replied, looking saddened for a second, then she turned back to the glowering man nearby. “She’s a guh argue wid Speedy bout fi him hanging bout, but him should guh. We nuh need more complications dan wi aready ave.”

  “Speedy? Go? Go where? Why?” Renny asked with shock. “We need him here working on this dead woman’s phone. He can’t do that at thirty-five-thousand feet. Who’s going to do our tech work? I’m a noob at computers, never really cared for them, and I can’t imagine Ezio getting his paws on a keyboard.”

  “I mean, I’m okay at it, but I’m no hacker,” he tossed in. He could work his way around computers, had built the one he had used at home, but as far as doing even a quarter of what Speedy was obviously capable of? Not a chance.

  The door opened, and Naomi stepped out, her face cross, sweat streaming down the sides of her face like she’d been physically exerting herself rather than talking on the phone. The others looked at her with apprehension, and they didn’t have to wait long to find out what was said as she growled, “they want us to release the girl. Tag her, let her lead us back to the master. Take them both out there. They do not want an escalation; the casualties are already higher than usual for the short period of time since we got here. They’re talking about sending in Echo Team to relieve us if we can’t put a lid on it.”

  “They should send them anyways, we could use the backup,” Renny replied instantly and got a nasty look from the fuming woman.

  Then her eyes turned on him, “you’ve been officially drafted. After Kayumi is through with you, report back to me. I hope you got some sleep before we busted down your door last night, it’s going to be a long fucking day.”

  Chapter 7

  I

  “You ever handle a gun before?” Kayumi asked him, but he barely heard her. He was too busy staring about the room they were in to pay attention to what she was saying.

  He had seen weapon cache’s in movies, read about them in the odd novel he read, but he’d never seen one in person. In fact, he’d never even been in a gun shop before. He felt like James Bond being escorted around by Q and suddenly wondered if he’d get a pen that turned into a bomb, or a watch that he could video call on.

  Well, that last one he could probably get off Amazon, but still.

  “Do you have armored cars that fire rockets and can be remotely controlled through my cellphone?” he ventured, looking at the weapons he could scarcely identify, much less use.

  “That’s in the garage, not in here,” Kayumi answered with a grin.

  “Really?” he asked, getting excited.

  “No.”

  “Damn,” he swore, his hopes dashed. No double-O code name for him. Not that he had actually expected that anyway. A London office or not, this was not MI-6 he was being recruited into. As for code names? He was probably stuck being called guero or some other derogatory term if Naomi had anything to do with it.

  Kayumi rolled her eyes and moved towards the body armor.

  It looked like Batman’s cave, all he needed was the pointed cowl. “Looks heavy, not sure how long I could wear any of this and stay on my feet.” She motioned for him to pick one up, and as he fingered the cloth of one of the vests, he found himself surprised by its weight. The lighter they were, they less they stopped, right?

  “It has a five-hundred Denier Cordura Nylon with front and rear plates and plenty of pouches to carry extra ammo and assistive devices. It might feel cumbersome at first, but you’ll adjust the longer you wear it. The shoulder guards however are hard to work with starting out, but trust me, you’d rather have them and not need them—.”

  “Then need them and not have them,” he finished, looking at the raised plates and wondering how much of his peripheral vision would be cut off with them on. Yet, she was right, if it kept fangs or claws from getting at his neck— “And this?” he asked, picking up something that looked like woman’s underwear, just armored.

  Not much of a jockstrap there.

  “Ballistic throat protector. You’ll also need the upper arm protectors, vambraces, heavy gloves, face shield, a holster, and a side arm magazine pouch,” she said, grabbing one of each and making a pile out of it.

  It felt like boot camp, had he joined the marines? Did he go and get his head shaved next? “This all seems a bit much. I’ll be like that kid in the Christmas Story overloaded with sweaters and unable to do anything but walk with my warms straight out.”

  “Naomi will never let you leave this place if you’re not as protected as you can be. Taking you along for that last jaunt, that’s one thing, we were cornered on that. But any other situation? I’m sorry, just not worth the risk, to you or the rest of your team if you are compromised,” Kayumi told him.

  “Now, you don’t look like you can handle much in the way of melee, you’ll need upper arm strength for even the lightest of our swords, so I want to set you up with a set of these,” she said, holding up what looked like a group of rings with spikes attached to them. “They are called Kakute, a weapon of my ancestors. Though, these are made of titanium alloy. It makes them lighter than iron and far deadlier when used. Vamps can be faster than your eyes can track, but if you have these pointed inward, you can latch on and the tips will inject a toxin that should slow them down a bit. Point them outward and they work like a deadly pair of brass knuckles.”

  He took them in hand, careful not to let the points touch his skin and grateful there was a plastic guard over them as to avoid accidental pricks. He slipped them into the outer pocket of the flak jacket out of curtesy, but he couldn’t imagine using them. Still, in a tight pinch, who knew what sort of weapons he’d have to resort to?

  “Aside from that, you should take this,” she said, handing him a holster with the black grip of a gun latched within. “It’s a Glock 22, popular amongst law enforcement officers. It’s not as heavy as the 45, but a heavier hitter than the 9mm. Here’s two boxes of bullets, hollow points filled with garlic. Trust me, you’ll need those. Also,” she paused, taking another box and putting it on top of his body armor. “Use this cleaning kit often, it’ll teach you about your gun and it needs to be cleaned on a regular basis. If we have time later, I’ll show you how, but you have a phone and YouTube can always assist you if you’re more comfortable with that.”

  “Oh, I don’t have one anymore. It kind of blew up.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll get you another eventually. One last thing, then I’ll let you go change,” she said as she brought out a black collar. “Throat mics let you talk in softer tones and still be heard. Silence is key in our line of work, a sneeze or loud exclamation at the wrong time can bring an entire horde of demons down on you in an instant. No need to bring on trouble when it can be easily avoided.”

  “Thank you,” he said and meant it. He didn’t know what to do with half of it, but he would figure it out, eventually. Fumbling with the armload of stuff, he ventured into the hallway and felt relieved to see Benji standing nearby holding a suitcase. “You happen to know where I can change? Maybe an instruction manual so I know what to do with any of it?”

  “I was actually coming to find you. I brought a go bag for you, clothes and toiletries mostly. I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I tried to be diverse about it. I grabbed the top layers, figured they were the most used as we rarely rotate our shirts when we fold up our clothing. With what happened at the aquarium, I figured you might need them sooner rather than later. Close encounters with evil tends to make us feel dirty, encouraging the shedding of the clothing we were wearing, followed by a cleansing shower,” Benji told him with an overly large grin. “Follow me, I’ll show you where you can hang your hat. As for the rest, it’s self-explanatory. If you can’t figure it out, there are plenty of people around here to give you a hand.


  His arms were burning as he mounted the staircase heading to the second floor, Benji taking the steps as if they were nothing; the man was in better shape than he looked. “Guess I should have gotten a basket to carry this stuff in. As far as the clothing, most of what I’ve been wearing are still in the hamper. Amanda insisted on doing the laundry, said I fold clothing like a four-year-old and she had a thing about making it organized and neat. I’d just throw it in there and try to get the drawer shut. Lots of finger poking,” he finished, trying not to get choked up. He knew Benji hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d hit on just another routine that brought his wife’s death home.

  “Oh. Apologies,” Benji offered.

  He waved it off, “I’m still adjusting. Takes time. Or so I’m told. Not sure they ever had to deal with a situation like this though. Is she alive or dead? Which is it? I’m not even sure how to refer to her.”

  “The woman you loved is dead, there’s no coming back from this,” Benji said, his tone slightly off, as if he wasn’t just talking about Amanda. He wanted to ask why but didn’t want to push; some things had to be said at their own pace.

  The second floor was as scarcely decorated as the bottom floor and looked barely lived in. He didn’t know how much time they spent at this place, being that they moved around a lot, but apparently it wasn’t long enough to buy anything to furnish it. Then again, it served a purpose, and once that was over, what was really needed as they got on a plane and flew on to the next job?

  Benji motioned down the right hallway and he grunted as he turned and headed that way. The other man moved past him and went to the third door on the left, holding it open as he made his way through. There was a queen bed against the center wall, a dresser with a television on it on the right, and an empty bookshelf on the left. He gratefully dropped his stuff on the bed and began massaging his biceps as he looked around; it was almost as sparse as a nun’s room in a convent. The one saving grace was that he had his own bathroom, that was a plus. He had prayed against having to share one; the dorm days far behind and not something he was eager to hop back into.

 

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