by Justin Sloan
Screw this, she thought, eyes watering. She brought her leg up to kick him in the face, then twisted, breaking free from the hold so that her butt was in his face, his crotch exposed.
“Training, training!” he said.
But she was pissed.
“Push through the pain,” she said, and brought her hand down like a hammer on his nuts.
“FUCK!” he said, pushing her off so that she went sprawling in the dirt.
Holding her damaged arm, she quickly recovered and spun to see if he was about to attack again.
Giuseppe winked from where he was watching a couple of others train, and then shouted over, “You’ll both heal. Get over it and get back to training.”
“She hit me in the balls!” Brad whined.
Giuseppe looked at him thoughtfully, tilted his head, and said, “Hmm, that’s never happened to me. Weird. Let me know if that doesn’t heal. Maybe she’s just discovered the male vampire’s one true weakness.”
Several others in the area burst into laughter, and Brad’s face went red as he lay there, glaring at her.
The laughter and smiles her way made her beam, at least until she saw the look of betrayal in Brad’s face.
He had nearly broken her arm, right? Was she really supposed to sit there and let him abuse her while she did nothing? No way, they were training to fight, to kill even, so if he had to hold his crotch for a couple of minutes and whine like a little babe, then, oh well.
Still, she felt a little bad, and decided to offer him a hand up.
“You have to admit, you were being a bit of a dick.” She stood over him, hand held out for truce. “But, if it helps, I feel slightly bad about your family jewels.”
He glared, but after a moment he breathed out and took the hand, lifting himself to stand.
“Back to training?” she asked.
“Yeah, but… give me a few minutes. And maybe we take it a little easy on each other.”
“Screw that,” she said. “This is too much fun. I bet I only got one of them last time, I want to make it an even pair.”
“Not. Funny. At. All.”
“Okay, okay.” She laughed. “No nut shots if you don’t try to break any limbs.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
They got back into it, sparring, blocking, and even getting a bit into sword fighting. By dark, they had trained their hearts out and their swords were full of chips in the steel. The trainers brought them to a grassy bank along a river, where they were given sharpening stones, then set to sharpening and cleaning their blades.
She saw Brad nearby, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. A couple of the other boys and men adjusted in their seats when she glanced their way as well. Great, she’d suddenly become the girl everyone associated with pain in the crotch.
Maybe that was a good thing, she thought. It would help keep them off of her, at any rate. Not that any of them had tried anything, but she imagined that, when living with a bunch of vampires who had attacked her people and dragged her off, not many of them had strong moral lines that they wouldn’t cross.
Giuseppe walked past, then saw her looking, and nodded. When she didn’t look away, he walked over.
“Is something bothering you, little birdy?”
“Little birdy?” she asked, confused by that.
“I see that look in your eyes, there’s no hiding it from me. That desire to fly away. Well if that’s it—”
“No. I mean, no, sir. It’s just that… why aren’t there more girls?”
“The elusive female vampire,” he said with a knowing look. “Haven’t I told you that you were the seventh attempt? The others all lost it, went mad.”
“But you kept trying. Why?”
He shrugged. “My thoughts are my own, but I’ll tell you this—the vampire we mean to kill is a female, and it would be a shame to take one out of this world without first putting another in her place.”
“The one they call Valerie?”
He nodded and sat down beside her. “They say she’s ruthless, without shame when it comes to taking a vampire’s life. Or a human’s for that matter. Anyone who stands in her way, who even thinks about questioning this so-called justice of hers. Should anyone like that be allowed to continue on?”
She shook her head.
“Exactly.” He put a hand on her shoulder and, for a moment, she felt a rush of terror and panic as she thought he was going to kiss her, but he smiled and simply used her shoulder to push himself up. “Remember, everyone believes they’re the hero of their own story, so… be wary of what you hear about her. Let the deaths of those hundreds of vampires she’s slain speak louder than rumors.”
As he walked off, Robin noticed Brad glancing over from where he knelt, cleaning his own sword.
“Think it’s true?” she asked.
“What’s true?” he asked, glaring.
“I mean, what he’s saying. Maybe we’re really here fighting for our world, not trying to hurt people, but to stop this other vampire from her evil ways?”
“You think I’m a bad guy?” he asked. “Oh yeah, I guess you do. Wouldn’t have slammed me in the nuts otherwise.”
“Come on, you were trying to break my arm.”
“No, I was helping you. Damn. I mean, maybe I got carried away, but I didn’t ground-pound you in the snatch or anything like that.”
“Wow,” she said, rolling her eyes. After a minute of cleaning her sword, she glanced back over to see him staring at her, a look of confusion on his eyes. “What?”
“You really thought I was trying to hurt you?”
“I thought you were being a dick.”
He set the sword aside and stood, walking over with his hand held out. “Peace?”
She smirked. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I did feel bad. Are they…?”
He pulled back, and then laughed. “You don’t really ask if that area’s okay after what you did. I mean, it’s kind of weird. Let’s just say that, yes, I’m healed.”
“Good, I’d hate to have you running into war, wobbling the whole time because you couldn’t walk straight or something.”
“We just made a truce,” he said. “Probably not the time to crack jokes about my nether regions.”
“Right, sorry.”
Suddenly his face went pale and he was back at his sword, pretending like they hadn’t been speaking at all. She looked around, confused, and then saw why.
That black, floating vehicle was back, and a large man with silvery wisps of hair had just exited with three vampires at his side.
They seemed to be looking over the vampires in training. The assassins.
“Giuseppe,” one of the vampires called out, and Giuseppe double-timed it over to them. “The move on Chicago, how’re we looking?”
It was hard to hear Giuseppe’s response from this far away, but Robin was pretty sure he had said they were on track.
The rest of the conversation she missed, because they had turned and were walking the other way as they spoke.
The look on Brad’s face said exactly what she was feeling though—they were expected to make a raid on a major city, defended by, if the rumors around here were true, Weres.
While the training was going well, she didn’t feel anywhere near ready for something like that.
CHAPTER SIX
Below Old Manhattan
“Sandra’s going to be pissed if we show up smelling like sewage,” Valerie said, working her way along the sewage walkways, Cammie in the lead.
“Would someone have set up traps like I’m telling you about if they weren’t protecting something insanely valuable?” Cammie paused, checking her directions, and then pointed, paused, and pointed the other way. “Over here, yeah, definitely.”
“Okay, just remember, she did all this for me, and I’m not supposed to know. If I show up late, or let on that I know, she’s going to freak. And if that happens, I’m putting all that woman’s frustration and anger your way.”
“I’m pretty sur
e I can handle it,” Cammie said with a scoff.
“Then you’re an idiot.”
Cammie paused to look back and frown. “You’re not the only one with people waiting, you know that? Yeah, that’s right, I know Jackson wants to see you there.”
Valerie felt a heaviness in her heart at the mention of Jackson. In spite of everything else now being taken care of, her relationship, if you could call it that, was the one thing she wasn’t sure of. Not wanting to focus on that, she asked, “What’s up with you and Royland then?”
“You asking if he was good in the sack? Let me just put it this way, the man can stay up all night.”
“Yes, he is a vampire, after all.” Valerie chuckled. “But no, I wasn’t asking about that at all.”
“Oh, his size, it’s—”
“No, la-la-la-la,” Valerie stuck her fingers in her ears and gave Cammie a look. When it was safe, she stopped and said, “Can you please? I don’t want to think about my friends that way.”
Cammie just looked at her and shook her head, then made a gesture with two hands that Valerie not only didn’t understand, but was now stuck with an even worse image of Cammie and Royland together.
“Thanks,” Valerie said, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I really needed that.”
“Ah, you and Jackson aren’t doing so well?” A look from Valerie and Cammie caught herself. “If not that, is it his…” She glanced down at her hands, still held apart, “Ohhh, sorry.”
“No, dammit, there’s nothing wrong with—”
“Oh, great!” Cammie perked up, looking past Valerie. “Here it is.”
Valerie breathed deep, telling herself to calm the hell down. She stepped up beside Cammie to see where the walkway gave out to a rock surface that led back into a bit of a cave. Sure enough, with her ability to see in the dark she saw hints of the traps, and her curiosity was piqued.
The first step nearly took off Valerie’s leg, but she was quick enough to dodge. Then came a slicing blade, and hell, she needed that haircut anyway, even if the result was a bit lopsided.
“Someone’s definitely twisted to have set all this up,” Valerie said after they had finally passed by a handful of them, and then there was a wall that she realized could be pulled, but when she tried, it was clearly nearly impossible.
Well, nearly impossible. She put everything she had into it, shouting with the effort and feeling her muscles being pushed to the point of breaking, and then, to the surprise of both of them, it moved and revealed a passageway.
“Holy crap,” Valerie said. “We did it.”
“Holy shit-sticks, you’re right.” Cammie smirked. “Told you we’d find something.”
They moved along the passageway until they came out in a large room with bamboo floors. Cammie coughed, likely due to the air and dust from the crap way they came in. She hit a light switch, and the lights buzzed on.
It wasn’t your typical underground hideout. In fact, the place was massive. Continuing the exploration, all Valerie could think was that whoever had lived here must have been incredibly wealthy to put all this together, and they must have done it a long time ago. The initial room they found had to be at least twelve-hundred square feet, and as they explored more, they discovered there were a total of five bedrooms, three floors, and it was complete with a kitchen, bathroom, and more. Valerie was surprised to see there was even a television (though she only recognized it from old pictures), and a lot of books.
The books part of it made her wonder. Such a collection didn’t seem like a Forsaken thing to have, and the CEOs never would have been strong enough to enter through the way they had come in.
“Wait a minute,” Valerie said, looking over to see a knowing look on Cammie’s face.
“I think so too,” Cammie said. “When I found it, I was certain it had to be someone like him, right? Because who else but you and him could get that door open. I couldn’t even get it to budge, and I’m at least as strong as most vampires. Then when we walked in here, I was certain it was—”
“Michael’s,” they both said together.
“Wow,” Valerie said.
“Holy shitsticks is what I think you were going for there. Or maybe son-of-BITCHquick pancake.”
Valerie shot her a frown, wondering what had gotten her all weirded out, and then remembered how, when they had first met, Cammie had been obsessed with the idea of Bethany Anne. She’d even knelt and thought that maybe Valerie could be The Queen Bitch herself, returned.
Being this close to the man who had something to do with her creation must feel like a priest discovering the actual crucifixion cross, or something similar. Okay, that was a horrible simile, she decided, but she had to admit, her head was swimming a bit too much with the excitement of finding this place.
Was it truly possible that Michael could have set this place up years ago, before the great collapse even? Had he visited while in the city, before showing up for the fight between her and her brother, Donovan?
She turned to see that Cammie had wandered off while she was thinking, and so called out, “Cammie?”
“Come see what I found!”
Valerie frowned and descended some stairs until she was on the bottom floor, where there was a large vault door as tall as her head.
“You know what this is, right?” Cammie said, looking at her with excitement practically pouring out of her.
“What?”
“All of his treasure, right? I mean, what else would he keep in here?”
“Cammie, he wasn’t some dragon who horded treasure or whatever you seem to be thinking right now.”
“I know that,” she said, frowning. “But he must’ve had something after all that time. Something super valuable that’s locked up behind these doors right now… waiting… for us.”
“If there is, and he didn’t take it…”
“Then he’d be fine with us checking.” Cammie smiled and turned the handle. Nothing. “I mean, I didn’t expect it to just open, but thought it was worth a shot.”
Valerie approached the keypad on the front of the massive, black, iron door. She considered for a moment, and then said, “Maybe we can guess his password? I’ll try Bethany Anne.” She did, but it didn’t work. She pursed her lips and tried her second guess, saying, “Michael.” Nothing. “Dammit!” She spit out, frustrated. Her voice started as a whisper, “You fucking DOOR!” She yelled, “Give me a damned clue!”
Valerie started looking around for something metal. At least she could vent a little frustration. Although, beating the crap out of Michael’s door might not be considered very polite.
She turned to look at Cammie when an electronic voice responded, “Door is listening.”
Both woman turned to look at the doors, their eyes wide open.
“Go ahead!” Cammie whispered, “Tell it something!”
Valerie slapped Cammie’s hand away from her arm, “Like what?”
“Open sesame?” Cammie asked, looking at Valerie, her eyes afire.
It was all Valerie could do to not roll her eyes, but she called out, “Door, Open Sesame.”
“Incorrect request,” the electronic voice came back.
Cammie shrugged when Valerie turned back to stare at her, “Any other bright ideas?”
An hour later, Valerie was wishing she had never asked the werewolf Alpha for ideas.
Valerie stared at the door for a moment and then walked up and rubbed a hand across it, wondering aloud. “What are you?”
“I am an arms locker.” Came back the electronic voice.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Cammie whispered, annoyance plain in her voice from behind Valerie, “All you have to do is ask it questions?”
Valerie shrugged, “Beats me.” She replied. “Arms Locker, what can you do?”
“Open, shut, lock, release,” came back a litany of commands, “All other commands are reserved.”
“Wonder what those are?” Cammie asked before Valerie looked over her shoulder, annoyed
. Cammie put up her hands in defense, “Hey! Just curious.”
Valerie shook her head, “Open up.”
Nothing happened.
“Open up arms locker.”
“Permission from?”
Now, Valerie was on firmer footing, “Michael.”
“Incorrect name.” The door replied. Valerie heard a snort behind her.
“Open up arms locker, Permission provided by Michael Nacht.”
“Code Word?” Asked the Arms locker and Valerie tried ‘Michael.’
Nothing happened.
“Yeah, well, what kind of guy uses his own name as a password?” Cammie scratched her chin, but then her eyes went wide. “What if—”
“Not his name, but the meaning of his name!” Valerie interrupted.
“Oh, interesting, yeah try that.”
“What?” Valerie stared, waiting. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing, I’m just—getting hungry I think. I was going to say his favorite food.”
Valerie looked back at her friend, “Do you even know his favorite food?”
Cammie pursed her lips in thought. “Um, blood?”
“Wow.” Valerie shook her head. “Just… wow. That’s so something like racist.”
“Okay, smarty-pants, what does his name mean?”
For a moment, Valerie stared at the safe, thinking back to that moment on the blimp when she had first seen Michael, and the thrill that seeing him had sent through her bones. He was all powerful, he was their Dark Messiah, returned.
“Not means, but where did the name come from?” Valerie said, reaching up so that her fingers rested on the door. “This old priest back in France, used to talk about the apocalypse mostly, but sometimes he’d rage about the days of the devil being thrown out from the heavens, and he mentioned a sort of right hand of God, Michael, an Archangel.”
She cleared her throat, “Open up Arms Locker, permission granted by Michael Nacht, code word ArchAngel.”
As she said it, something within the door whirred. Then, with a click, the door inched open. She had to use her strength to move the thick iron the rest of the way. They walked through the door into the small room where armor and swords and knives were all stored, in immaculate condition. Then she stared in awe. A pristine set of armor hung as if for decoration, as new and clean as if it had been hung there yesterday.