by Justin Sloan
Valerie answered the hanging question. “Yeah, I remember… Not like I remember the day I met you, or when the Duke first took me into his training hall and explained how special I was. That female vampires were unique, making me his special project. Those are a different kind of memory. Before the change, everything is more… blurry? Like I remember my biological mother’s smile, the sound of her laugh, but I don’t remember ever doing anything with her. There’s a distant memory of my father, the two of us sitting on a couch in Old France, his arm around me and my head on his shoulder, almost like we are now.”
“That’s…. Thank you.” Sandra sniffled.
Valerie sighed into the room. “But that’s where it ends. Nothing more.”
For a moment they sat there in silence.
Finally, Valerie asked quietly, “What about you? Your family?” She paused a moment, her head dipped in realization. “I… I’ve never asked, have I?”
Sandra’s answer came as a distant, hushed response. “I miss them every day of my life. Every memory is there, vivid as if it were yesterday. The day Donovan killed them, most of all.”
Valerie went rigid at that, a chill tingling her arms and back, working its way through her chest. She wanted to cry, to find Donovan and tear his heart out with her fingernails and feel it beating its last beat as she watched his miserable life vanish from his eyes.
When she remembered to breathe, she realized Sandra was limp against her, snoring lightly. Valerie gently moved her so that the woman’s head was on her lap, and then leaned back against the wall and let sleep take her, too.
CHAPTER NINE
The sun had already bid the sky good night, leaving an indigo slash across the clouds quickly heading to black at the horizon. Enough light remained that shades of pink streaked through the sky, providing a stunning sunset.
But, if it wasn’t the coming darkness that had woken Valerie before she was ready, what was it then? She sat there, listening to the evening, and looked down to see Sandra staring up at her, wide-eyed.
Valerie motioned for silence with a finger to her lips, the other hand caressing Sandra’s hair to try and calm her.
If just a bit.
Then the sound came again, and Valerie looked towards the door, her eyes narrowing. Footsteps, creaking down the hall—gentle, barely perceptible to the human ear. But, to a vampire, they were very clear.
Even amongst the other noises in the building.
“They say one or two?” a whispered voice asked. “Because homeboy downstairs said we got two checked in here.”
“The Cap’n said there might be two, or three,” a second hushed voice said. “One’s a vamp, and has the blood on her.”
A moment of silence, a deep breath, and then the first voice called out their room number, “There it is. Ready?”
Valerie’s heart thumped. Had Captain Bronson sold them out? The voice had said the Cap’n, and the only other captain she’d seen around here was on an old faded poster in a grocery store that had ‘Crunch’ next to the title over a bowl of cereal—she doubted it was the cereal guy.
She motioned for Sandra to get up, carefully, and then her eyes went to her sword on the other side of the room. If she moved fast enough, she could…
BOOM!
Too late. Action time.
First was the explosion of the door being blown inward and hitting the bed, followed by the white light of a flash-bang that caused Sandra to start screaming and disorientated Valerie a bit, as the pain hit her head, almost overwhelming her nervous system before the healing clamped down.
Two men rushed in, at least one more behind them, rifles at the ready. The third man shouted something, muffled, as he pointed towards Valerie. Before they took another step, Valerie had slid off the top bunk, landed and rolled across the floor and grabbed her sword, swinging back around to the two in the room with them.
She missed a clean swipe at the first idiot’s head—the flash-bang and disorientation from waking up. She would have to work on waking up faster. Nothing could be done about the flash-bang that she could figure out in the moment.
Instead, her stroke sliced the man’s cheek open. A second strike sent the sword through the other one’s belly, but then the first had repositioned and allowed room for the third to aim his own gun toward Valerie.
Damn!
Sandra rolled over, slipped off the top bunk, and went for the pistols they’d obtained while with the pirates. The third man snarled when it looked like his people were both going to go down and he couldn’t keep his rifle aimed at the vampire. He charged into the room, tearing off clothes before transforming
Into a damned bear!
This wasn’t good—a crazed bear in a room this size. Valerie had to end this.
At maximum speed, she kicked the dying man in the face to knock him out of her way, then jumped and pushed off of the wall with a kick that sent her flying right for the bear. He tried to turn his bulky body and swat at her, but his claws caught in the wall and he was too slow—instead, he found a sword lodged in his neck.
The Werebear roared, causing the annoying neighbor to start yelling again, but then the shots from the pistol in Sandra’s hand went off and silence followed.
A muffled voice from a few rooms away made it to them through their ringing ears, “Nevermind, my bad!”
Even with the sword in its neck and the bullet wounds, the bear wasn’t quitting. Valerie was going to need more energy for this, she dropped down, catching a second pistol Sandra threw to her.
The assailant with the cheek slice turned his rifle on her and shot, but she had already rolled across the floor. Coming up with pistol firing, shots tearing into his kneecaps. He wobbled, and she caught him and moved for a quick bite to the neck—only, his neck was guarded.
“Dammit!” she spat out, realizing belatedly Vampire Hunters would have figured out how to protect themselves.
Unfortunately, she also lost situational awareness for the moment. The Werebear caught her with a swipe of its paw that tossed her violently back onto the bunk bed. The top bunk’s crossbeam stopped her momentum, but the pain from her back was intense. She dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.
“Valerie!” Sandra called out.
The funny thing was, Valerie wasn’t focused as much on the bear about to maul her friend as on the fact that her friend had finally called out Valerie instead of Mistress. It made her smile, and then she frowned as the danger took the rightful position of primary focus. She sure as hell didn’t want her name to be the last thing Sandra said.
“You ladyball loving lycan,” she spat out, pulling its attention off of Sandra.
Three more shots rang out from Sandra’s gun, and the bear stumbled back. At the same time, the man without knees was trying to bring his gun around to aim at Valerie, cursing like a French whore.
Time seemed to slow. Valerie looked to the man and his gun, and then the bear. She thrust herself at the bear while shouting to Sandra, “GET DOWN!”
The guy on the floor let loose a series of shots trailing her as she moved across the room.
She jumped on the bear, she climbed up and over its head onto its front and pushed off the bunk beds. She then let loose a series of blows upon the bear as it fell backward and collapsed on top of kneeless, who had tracked her and was now pumping the bear full of shots.
Now, kneeless was clueless and dead. Probable cause of death: asphyxiation due to “crushed by bear.” Not exactly the expected cause of death a coroner report would normally state when someone died this many floors above the ground.
Two down, and one bear… unconscious? Aside from the sword in its neck, there wasn’t any new blood. The thought triggered the craving for blood in herself.
She needed it, or she wasn’t going to make it through the night if there were more attacks. Worse, she didn’t see how she could protect Sandra in her weakened position. One of these days, she might be able to live a life where the need to constantly suck the life blood from a human wasn’
t so damned necessary.
The man who’d taken the cut to his gut was close to death, but not quite there. Valerie knelt beside him, removed his helmet and neck guard, and then sunk her teeth into his flesh. She drank until she felt the last beat of his heart give out, his body finally going limp.
“Darts,” Sandra spoke.
Valerie stood up slowly and turned around, wiping the blood from her mouth. She saw Sandra had her fingers on a dart that was sticking out of the wall—one of the few that had missed the bear.
“They are hunting you,” Sandra said, turning to Valerie and pulling out a cloth from her pocket and took a step towards Valerie, reaching up, she wiped off a spot of blood Valerie had missed. “But they want you alive.”
“To bottle my blood and sell it,” Valerie said. “Yeah, I figured toward the end of the fight there.”
“Huh,” said a voice at the doorway, and both turned, pistols cocked and aimed. “It’s a shame you didn’t keep them alive for questioning.”
The first thing Valerie saw was those damn cowboy boots as they stepped into the entryway, followed by the rest of the cowgirl Were.
Valerie cocked her head to the left, “You’re offering yourself up for questioning?” she asked, her pistol never wavering. “Fine, we accept.”
She shook her head, “Unfortunately for you, I wouldn’t have the answers you’re looking for.” She took a vial from her jacket pocket and tossed it over. Valerie watched it fly through the air and snagged it easily. “But I found this, and on the way over I saw them making their move. Figured I’d wait and see how you did.”
“This is the Were from the bar?” Sandra asked Valerie. After Valerie nodded, she turned back to the Were and hisssed, “We could have used your help. We might have died!” Sandra wanted to spit at the woman.
The cowgirl scratched her neck. “Ah, but there was a problem, you see.” She nudged the nearly dead Werebear with a boot. “This guy was one of mine, before he was forced into this lifestyle. I wasn’t sure which side I’d choose in a fight between the two of you, so I stayed out of it.” She kicked the body a little harder.
“And now?” Valerie lowered her gun, but still held up the vial of blood. “You’re what, here to give me this and then be on your way?”
She shook her head. “No, I have questions of my own. Like how much you know,” she pointed to the vial, “and why you had that on you.” She glanced behind her as the opening of doors sounded, followed by confused and scared noises. Her next words were in a whisper. “But right now we have to get you out of here, before the Peace Enforcers show up—or worse, the real power behind these hunters.” She looked back to Valerie, concern edging into her eyes.
“I just took down one of your men and did some damage back at the bar,” Valerie pointed out. “Given how I’d feel toward me if I were in your shoes, I’m not so sure we can trust you.”
The cowgirl’s lips compressed. “Look, if you don’t, you’ll be captured or worse. I understand your position, so… you decide.” She turned back to the hallway, listening to the new sounds.
Valerie shared a look with Sandra, who shrugged but finally lowered her pistol.
“You were hurting our friend,” Sandra said, cautiously.
“We thought he could’ve been a local and betrayed us to the Forsaken,” the cowgirl answered quickly and without apology. “It’s happened before.”
Sandra glared at her a moment, but then nodded to Valerie.
“Not that this means we’re good,” Valerie said. “But for now, let’s get the hell out of here, cowgirl.”
“Call me Cammie,” she said, motioning them to follow. “It is my name, after all.” She pointed to the Bear. “You going to kill him or what? I’d ask you to save him, but at the moment, that doesn’t seem likely to do much good.”
Valerie reached down and pulled out the sword. The bear changed back into a man, and she thought about it. “If he can survive, he can live. If I ever deal with him again, I’ll kill him first.”
Cammie gave her a nod and then spun on her heels to lead them out of there. Valerie hurried as they walked quickly after her, ignoring the shouts behind them and the sound of people charging through the halls, likely in pursuit.
“Stay close,” Cammie said.
Valerie watched the floor as much as she watched were they were going, “As long as I don’t have to kill you for betraying us.”
“It won’t come to that.” Cammie finally stopped at a door and wiped off the dusty room number.
“Make sure it doesn’t,” Valerie agreed, helping Sandra over a large hole in the floor as they followed the Were.
Cammie grunted and kicked the door open, it banged against the wall inside and rebounded slightly. “I know this building like the back of my hand. Grew up here, after all.” She looked around the disused room and walked in, “You stick with me and I’ll get you out of this mess.”
CHAPTER TEN
Outskirts of Old Manhattan
Diego looked around, mind rolling with plans for how to get out of this and make it back to Valerie and Sandra. And then, there was the whole question of how to find them, even if he did get back there. That was followed by the question of how to avoid those Weres that had captured him.
“Where are we?” he asked, looking out through the van windshield from the back.
The older Were, Franklin, gave him a look of doubt, then stepped out of the van and went to the back to open the doors for Diego before answering. “My house. And I got a kid sleeping, so if you could keep it down for me, okay?”
“What?” Diego asked as he exited the van, stepping down to the ground. “You don’t know me. Why would you take a Were you don’t know into your house when you have a child sleeping?”
“You need clothes, for one,” Franklin answered. He helped Diego and pointed him toward a large, square-shaped apartment complex. “And because my kid can transform faster than I believe you’d be able to, and he’s pretty capable. Even for a twelve-year-old.”
Being told a twelve-year-old didn’t need to worry much about you? Yeah, that was a bit of a butt hurt.
Not that his pride would stop him from accepting clothes and, he hoped, a warm meal. What with the mediocre food on the ship and his not so warm welcome since arriving in America, Diego had been getting close to resorting to thievery. It wasn’t something he liked to do, knowing that pretty much everyone else in the world had it as bad as him.
But his survival had to come first, right?
The apartment certainly wasn’t anything fancy, but it was the first place Diego had ever stepped foot in that had good carpet. Franklin had set it up nicely, too. There were little clay sculptures lining a shelf on one wall, one for each member of his family—including the dog.
Diego walked over to the dog sculpture, waiting while Franklin tiptoed into the bedroom to grab some clothes for him. The wife and son were both asleep in the one room, as was the norm—to stay warm in the winters, which this wasn’t, but also because barely anyone could afford more than a single room anymore. Even having a living room-kitchen combo like this was considered fancy by many.
“She… left us,” Franklin said, returning to find Diego’s hand outstretched for the dog. “And please, don’t touch those.”
Pulling his hand away, Diego turned to see Franklin with the clothes. He gratefully accepted the outfit the man handed him.
“Go ahead and change,” the man said. “They’re sound asleep.”
“Thank you.” Diego glanced back up at the carving as he put on the blue jeans and plaid shirt. A thought hit him, and he realized that, given their nature, the statue might not represent a dog at all. With the way Franklin’s eyes had gone moist and were now fixed on the floor, he was pretty sure. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as he put on the shirt.