“Interesting.” I echoed. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to toss me into being a pawn?”
“That’s the irony. You wouldn’t be a pawn. Far from it. In fact, I’d be unable to influence you. Politically, you’d be independent, able to make requests and bargain as an entity worthy of respect.”
“Just so long as I’m alive long enough to do it.” I deadpanned.
“Well, yes,” He said, without humor. “Granted, the job's hazards are many, but you’ll obviously grow into the role. You seem the type, I think.”
“What, suicidal?”
“No, noble.” He said the word with a little mocking in his tone. “But I have high hopes for you. You’re a quick learner, it looks like.”
“So, how do we go about this?” I asked. “Do I need to take a test or something?”
“Nothing so intricate.” Teresa said. “An official of one of the Arcane races, Ishmael in this case, will appoint you. We’ll say it’s an emergency case, and we can have the other leaders confirm you when we next convene.”
“All right. So, what do I do?” I asked him.
“I’ll knight you. We can go do it out in the parking lot. Teresa will supply you, and you’ll engage Lucien this evening, with my warrant to hunt and kill him.”
“Wait, that's it?”
“That's it.”
“All right, then, let’s do it.” I said. “Let’s head outside.”
The parking lot was vacant, for the most part. It was quiet, as most of the night crowd hadn’t shown up yet, and it wasn’t exactly a dinner spot. We walked out to the Jeep.
“So, how do we do this?” I asked.
“First, you kneel.”
“Do you knight me with a sword, like they used to?” I asked, more out of a curiosity than anything.
“No, that’s something we did away with after a lord tried to behead a man who was supposed to be inducted. And granted, much has changed.”
“How so?” I asked him.
“Well, eight hundred years ago, we might have done this in a manor, or on the field of some great battle.”
“Instead, you get a parking lot for a hippie coffee shop. Take what you can get, Count. You want this Knight? You’ll have to deal with it.”
He shrugged. “Well, I suppose so. Eric Carpenter, would you kneel?”
I did so, taking a knee in front of him. Even in designer clothes tailored to his frame, the man still seemed like a power incarnate from where I was.
“Eric Carpenter, by the power invested in me by the King of my race, and by the Night’s Accord, I, Ishmael, sired by Gregor, appoint you, temporarily at least, to the position of Knight of the Bay.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. His fingers pressed into the muscle, and I could feel the power behind them. “Do you accept this appointment?”
I thought of something then. Choice. In most medieval cultures I remembered, appointments were often just there, never offered. You were expected to accept. Instead, with the Arcanes, the choice was freely given.
“I do.” I answered, my head bowed.
“Then may you serve the Arcane by answering to none. May you be the law that holds our kinds together, that keeps us from war, injustice, and wrongs. Justice is your ally, as is the will to mediate between us. You serve by being above service to any one power. Rise, Eric, and may you be the embodiment of justice in troubled times.”
I stood up. Well, for someone who’d just been appointed to be the Clint Eastwood slash Henry Kissinger of the Arcane world, I sure didn’t feel different. I moved to rise, and I looked over at Teresa.
“So, he said you had gear for me. Let’s go.”
Teresa popped open the trunk on her car. She pulled out a pair of vests this time, one of them that was closer to my size. “For you.” She said.
“Seriously?” I looked at the vest. It was black, and made out of a fabric I didn’t recognize. Then again, how many tactical vests did I try on as a part of regular life?
“It’s Kevlar. It will stop most handgun rounds, and will stop a knife, anything other than a full thrust. It’s got pouches for your magazines on the pistol, and a pouch for larger things like a grenade.”
“Got any more of those nice little stun grenades?” I asked.
“Not for you,” she said.
I looked down at the armor, and tossed it into the back seat. “I can put it on when we get there. But, seriously, you guys bought me armor? That’s, well, I’m flattered.”
“No need to be.” Ishmael said. “I consider it an investment. I’d rather spend a few thousand equipping you, and have my Knight intact.”
“I’m not your Knight.” I said. “I’m just the Knight. You said it yourself, I’m not beholden to you or anything.”
“No,” He smiled. “But you still owe me a favor. And I have every intention of collecting.”
“That’s in the future. I’d prefer we focus on the present, at least for the time being.”
“Of course.” He said. “Teresa, if you would also give him the bullets?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.” She withdrew a small plastic case. “It’s more ammo.”
I opened the case. The color was odd. “What’s special about them?”
“It’s a special alloy that a defense company has developed.” Teresa explained. “A standard silver round doesn’t offer as steady ballistics as the usual full metal jacket. Instead, they have developed a silver-lead ammunition that is in a prototype stage. It’s a halfway point. The silver’s still there, but it’s a heavier round.”
“That’s sort of hot hearing you explain it.” I grinned a little. “All right. I guess I’ll reload now.” I opened up the jeep and retrieved the pistol magazines.
“You two seem to have the situation covered.” Ishmael nodded to both of us. “Teresa, I expect a full report from you when this is resolved. Sir Carpenter, I look forward to our next meeting. Au revoir.” He bowed, and with a flourish, started to walk off.
“He just walks?” I asked when he had turned a corner.
“He’s doing it for your benefit. He’s actually got an appointment near here. Ishmael likes his exercise.” Teresa chuckled a little. She got the rest of the gear from her car. She suited up in the Kevlar, which had the terrible property of hiding her feminine body. Though, I would suppose that any sort of body armor that looked stylish was bound to get you killed.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked her after we got in the car, and I started to drive us back to the warehouse.
“Plan?” She arched a thin eyebrow. “Why, now you’re thinking like Ishmael speaks of witches. Yes, a plan. We’ll take a look, and figure out our plan.”
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to resist doing a Hannibal impression right now.”
“Hannibal?” She inquired. “As in, Carthage?”
I laughed. “Good Lord. I’m about to storm a warehouse with a master vampire, an unknown number of his goons, and Lord knows what else, with a woman who doesn’t even know about the A-Team. We are so boned.”
Chapter 25
We started around nine in the evening. The sun had been down for an hour now, and we figured that whatever else, we needed to act before too long. Teresa and I strolled, clad in Kevlar underneath our jackets, towards the warehouse.
I walked with Teresa to the employee entrance. Her hand disappeared inside her jacket for a moment, and came out with a lock picking set, much like the one Amy had used.
“Seriously, do you guys just like have meetings or something?” I deadpanned.
“What?”
“You and Amy. Badass women in my life…Matt was right.”
“Yes, well, whatever this Matt said, you can tell me later. I need to focus. Watch my back.” Whereas Amy had been fast about picking the lock, with that crazy-fast supernatural skill of hers, Teresa seemed to be more natural in that regard. She worked slowly, methodically.
I leaned against the wall of the building, looking around. I was about ready to ask how lo
ng it would take, when a man turned around the corner towards us. “Teresa.” I hissed. “We've got company.”
She stood up, and whispered into my ear. “Follow my lead.”
I was about to ask what, but Teresa quickly pinned me against the wall. Before I knew it, she was kissing me. Out of all the plans I had thought of, that one certainly wasn’t the one I expected.
Teresa’s lips were warm, delicious, just like last night. I returned the kiss, half-heartedly at first.
Teresa’s tongue took care of that problem. I groaned against her, and my hands went to her back. I pulled her against me. The Kevlar both of us wore precluded me feeling the shape of her, and it drove me nuts. My libido had been shut down for way too long, and here I was, kissing a girl in body armor.
“God,” I moaned between kisses, when I needed air. “Been way too long.” I murmured.
“You really need to work on your dirty talk, Eric.” She murmured out. “Just keep kissing me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, between kisses, I spied the man getting closer. He walked to us, and put a hand on Teresa’s shoulder. “Hey, you two need to go find somewhere else to-“
Teresa didn’t let him finish. She whipped out her gun, and spun away from me. The butt slammed against the man’s head, effectively knocking him to the ground. The pistol disappeared back into her vest. “Well, that was a minor inconvenience.”
“What…” My brain was still trying to process exactly what was going on. “You kissed me.”
“I needed him not to call it in. He sees a couple kissing? It’s San Francisco, people kiss all the time. Picking a lock? He would call it in, and I’d need to shoot him. I didn’t want to shoot him.” Teresa flashed me a grin. “By the way, Eric, yum. I didn't say that last night. Definitely not bad.”
“Uh, thanks.” I said. “So, what happens now?”
“We have two options now,” she said. “We can try to continue picking the lock. However, I’m not sure how long that will take. Alternatively, we can go for a much more…dramatic entrance.”
“What did you have in mind?” I had taken out my pistol now, racking the slide slowly to chamber a round.
“We kick the door in, toss in the flash bang, shoot the legs of the people by the entrance, and try to just do this fast and hard.”
“Fast and hard.” I echoed. “Yea, I think that might work. Would they seriously expect it?”
“It doesn’t exactly happen as an everyday occurrence, as much as you might think.” She grinned. “And it’s a bit more chancy, though with a bit more payoff, I think.”
“Let’s go for it. We don’t need them sending another guy out to look for this one.”
Teresa nodded. “I’ll break down the door, toss the flash, and we go in. On my mark, alright?”
I smiled. “Yea, ready as I’ll ever be.”
She held up three fingers, then peeled each down in a slow count. Three, two, one. She slammed her shoulder fiercely into the door, and a crashing sound filled the air. The door caved in, flying off the hinges to the ground. Teresa reached into her pouch and pulled the pin on the flash bang.
“Cover your ears.” She said.
I did so, but the bang still seemed to shake my chest. It was powerful, even more so than a gunshot. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those things, for sure.
Teresa’s voice went past my ringing ears. “Move!” She said.
I brought my pistol up, and we moved in. The warehouse itself wasn’t too complex. It was mostly full of boxes, crates stacked up ten feet or so high on large shelving units. There were probably hundreds like it in the Bay Area. The place was dimly-lit, but I could still make out the scene just fine.
Two men were on the floor, and I put a bullet into each of their legs. Better have them in the legs than have them recover and come back for more, I figured.
We moved in, past what was apparently a trucks’ loading dock. The sound of boots on concrete came from further down near the end of one of the rows of crates. Two men, dressed in black and sporting were tattoos on their necks, came into view.
Teresa yelled. “Get down!”
I got behind a crate only scant seconds before I heard the buzzing of an automatic weapon. It took a moment for me to register what it was, at first, but it was freaking scary. The sensation of having a whole bunch of bullets fly by you is just terrifying. Combined with just the sound of automatic fire? I was surprised I didn’t soil myself.
“Trigger control,” I heard Teresa hiss. “They have none.” She popped out from behind a forklift, popping off shots down towards the men.
I popped off out from behind the crate. I shot off a pair of rounds towards one of the men, who was reloading his gun. Whether it was one of my shots, or one of Teresa’s he went down. The other gunman, who I couldn’t see, started to take shots at me. The bullets tore up the crate, and I found myself clinging to the ground behind the crate, not wanting to give the gunman any sort of target.
I looked back behind me, and was instantly glad I did. Another were with a handgun was rounding the corner. “Teresa!” I yelled, trying to alert her I let loose with more shots, and the slide locked back on the gun. I hadn’t landed any of them, but he had a free shot at me.
I heard two shots, both coming from different sources. I felt a force in my gut, and almost immediately, I felt like I was going to throw up. I bowled over, and tried to reach for my stomach. Please, I thought. Please, God, don’t let it be bleeding.
It took an eternity for my hand to reach my stomach. When it reached there, though, there wasn’t any fluids. Instead, I could feel a hot piece of metal in my hand, singing it. “Ow!” I hissed, and pulled my hand away. A shell casing had fallen on my stomach. Well, I was okay. There was that.
Without a doubt? One of the scarier experiences in my life. I looked back up, wondering why I hadn’t continued to be shot at. I saw the guy, on the ground, with blood straining his blue work shirt.
Teresa’s voice called to me. “Reload, Eric!”
I realized Teresa had covered me. Thank God for that. I ejected the magazine, and loaded a new magazine into the gun. I hit the slide release. Back in action. I popped out over the top of the crate, and just peeked before more shots drove me back down.
I realized then that Hollywood totally gets it wrong. You don’t get to be John McClane and rage through the bad guy’s lair. No, you hide behind cover like a scared little wuss. Well, if it meant not getting shot? I was cool with hiding like a wuss.
Teresa kept firing, popping out, firing, and ducking back down like a pro. “Eric.” She hissed. “I’ll keep them down here. You go search the rest of the place, all right? If you see Lucien, don’t engage him directly.”
“Gotcha.” I moved to a crouched position, and started to move back away form the fight. I moved from one piece of cover to the next, behind pillars, crates, and anything else that would shield me from fire.
The end of that row of crates led me to a wall with a number of doors. I quickly opened each one. The first was an office, empty and holding only a few card board boxes. No kidnap victims in there. I turned back, checking my back to make sure that no other werewolf goons were sneaking up on me.
I hurried down to the next door, and opened that one. I breathed a sigh of relief.
On the floor was Sam Coolidge. She certainly looked the worse for wear. Her hair had been shaved bare, leaving her with that sickly sort of bald look that comes with being fair-skinned. Bruises covered her body, nearly as much as her normal skin color. The poor girl was being beat to within an inch of her life. I rushed into the room, and knelt down next to her. She wasn’t bound in any way, but I knew, somehow in my mind, that they’d drilled it into her head that escape wasn’t an option. Maybe she had already tried.
“Samantha?” I whispered. “It's Eric. I’m here to help.”
She looked up at me, and I saw the fear in her brown eyes. “ No, it’s a trick.” She insisted. “Just another of his tri
cks.”
“No tricks.” I promised. “I’m here to rescue you. Hear those shots? That’s my back up.”
“You’re serious.” She laughed, though it was weak and pained. “You’re freaking crazy. Eric, you know that?”
“Just maybe a little crazy. I hear it helps. Teresa!” I called. “Teresa, over here!” I spun around, focusing my pistol on the doorway. “We’re going to get you out of here, Sam, and we’re going to get you away from Lucien.”
She shuddered at that name. “He drank from me. A lot.” She murmured.
Shit. I think I realized, in that moment, just how timely my arrival was. She didn’t seem to have a lot left in her, mentally. She would either break, or give up soon. A few things rushed through me, a reaction to it. I was sorry for the girl. Sorry for the fact that someone had decided she was his, property to be abused, so he could gain power. The other party of me was just angry at it. Who had the right to do such a thing to another living person? I figured that it would have taken someone dead to do it.
Where did that leave me with Teresa, and allying myself with Ishmael, at least in some way or shape?
Teresa slid into the room about a minute later, popping a shot off to someone out there. “They’ve thinned out, I think,” she said.
“Why do you say that?”
“He can’t have an infinite supply of these goons. Oh, it’s been too long since I’ve had a good fight.” She looked down to Sam. “Hello, Miss Coolidge. We’re here to rescue you. I am, of course, assuming you would like rescue?”
She nodded. “God, yes.”
“Fantastic.” Teresa smiled. “Can you stand, Samantha?” She asked, and she offered the woman her hand.
Sam gritted her teeth. She put her hand in the vampire’s, and the two of them slowly worked her up to her feet. “I’d rather die than let a vampire stand when I couldn’t.” Sam grumbled.
“That’s the spirit.” Teresa encouraged her. The vampiress seemed almost manic in the heat of battle. “Eric, I’ll get her out of here. Do you think you can find Amy?”
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