Quicksilver (The Bloodline Series Book 2)

by Gabriella Messina

Sam shook her head as she laughed, then threw an arm around her best friend’s shoulders. “Benny, you need to relax. The only interest he has in me is keeping me from getting him, or myself, killed.”

  Ben’s frown faded slightly. “That’s a full-time job.”

  “Hey! Be nice!”

  Ben chuckled. “I bet Vincent likes him, huh?”

  Sam’s smile faded quickly, and she removed her arm from his shoulders. The Engineer’s Gate was just ahead. Sam slowed as they reached the entrance to the park, and Ben quickly pulled up beside her.

  “He doesn’t like him?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Ben glanced toward the park. It was incredibly dark, though you could see the occasional shadow of movement in the darkness. There were people roaming about in there, and he had a feeling they weren’t there for a nighttime constitutional. For a moment, Ben felt a twinge of apprehension, an unusual feeling for him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all… unless –

  “We, uh, probably should call the Dark Knight before we venture in there, right?”

  Sam frowned, puzzled. “Who?”

  Ben sighed dramatically. “Vincent!” He watched Sam’s puzzled frown morph into an irritated one.

  “Why would I call him?”

  “Because we’re going into the heart of the beast here. I mean there could be dozens of werewolves in here.” Ben felt an involuntary shiver course through his body. This was really beginning to seem like a bad idea, probably one of his worst. He hated to admit it, but he’d assumed when Sam went to change she had contacted the mysterious Irishman. Ben didn’t like him much, but he would have felt better knowing the skilled fighter was by their side. Clearly he had NOT been called, though, and based on Sam’s attitude, wouldn’t be summoned anytime soon. Ben wanted to ask why, but in her current mood, and with the increase in foot traffic nearby, he thought this wouldn’t be the best of times to have that discussion.

  “Okay, so… we’re going in… on our own?”

  Sam smirked and looked at him. “This was your idea, remember?” She finished her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground and quickly checking her phone for the time. “The post said what time?”

  “Ten-thirty.”

  Sam nodded. “How did you find out about this thing anyway? I mean this Underland board thingy?”

  “Um… I was gaming at Lonergan’s… Usually we’re online, but once a month we meet up face-to-face to work out scenarios… This guy was there talking to Lonnie… he told us about it.”

  Sam waited until another small group passed by them before speaking. “What was his name? It wasn’t --”

  “No, no, it wasn’t him.” Ben shivered again, this time against the sudden chill that passed through him at the thought of the man Sam was referring to. When they’d last danced with werewolves that past fall, one of the leaders of the pack had tuned into Sam… John Prutzmann. Though he’d fought with Vincent and presumably fallen to his death, no body was ever recovered and Vincent had been tight-lipped about the whole thing, disappearing for weeks afterward. Ben shook his head again as he pictured the tall, broad-shouldered Viking of a man. “No, it wasn’t… him. This guy wasn’t as big. Tall, but not big. And he had dark hair.”

  “And you didn’t get his name?” Ben shook his head again. Sam sighed, and looked at her watch. “Ten-thirty. I guess we’d better head in.” She searched the darkness for fresh movement that would indicate another group coming their way. “You know what I don’t get?”

  “What?”

  Sam sighed. “All these… well… I don’t understand why they can’t smell me.” She turned to Ben, her puzzled frown barely visible in the dim light. “They should know I’m here. But they aren’t reacting.”

  “I don’t know.” Ben shrugged. “Maybe they’re not allowed. Here comes a group now. Should we try following them?”

  Sam eyes searched the darkness, following the movements of the groups, determining there were four of them, all but one female. Maybe Ben was right, maybe whatever the agenda was at this meeting tonight trumped investigating the presence of an unfamiliar female werewolf. Or there was the possibility, farfetched as it may seem, that they had been ordered not to touch her, although that would imply they were keeping much closer tabs on her than she knew… or liked. She reached out in the darkness, grabbing Ben’s arm and pulling him with her. They quickly fell into step a few feet back from the group, close enough to believably not be following them if questioned.

  The group walked toward a low outcrop of rock, a remnant of an Ice Age glacier’s trek through the area, and the male of the group reached out for the rock… and pulled it open! Sam felt Ben flinch as the grating sound of metal reached them. It wasn’t rock, but a metal door hidden in the outcrop. The male disappeared inside, followed by the females. One paused, holding the door open behind her in expectation. Sam quickly closed the distance between herself and the door, catching it just as the female released it and disappeared inside.

  Sam sighed, looking into the darkness of the area beyond the door. “Well…” She glanced back at Ben, whose face was near her shoulder as he struggled to see down into the seeming abyss. “Shall we?”

  **************

  Sam could feel the air growing cooler, damper, as they continued to descend beneath the reservoir. She and Ben had been walking down the metal stairs and scaffolding for what seemed like forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The group they had followed in had long since disappeared ahead, only the occasional echo of their steps on the metal drifting up to the pair carefully pursuing them. Ben had been unusually quiet, except for the crack earlier about dark places and Balrogs. Sam had chuckled at that, knowing a lot of his nerd-speak was a defense mechanism. Ben was scared, and as they continued their descent, Sam could feel her own fear settling into her stomach. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all… Maybe she should have called Vincent… The thought of him caused Sam’s anger to bristle, driving away her fear for a moment. She really wanted to give that asshole a piece of her mind, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

  They had been walking for a couple of minutes before Sam realized they weren’t going down stairs anymore. Ben noticed it, too, stumbling slightly as his brain relayed that piece of information to his legs and feet. The tunnel continued, and though she couldn’t see any light, Sam could pick up the faintest sound of voices ahead of them, and the fear returned, like a bowling ball resting on her diaphragm… The voices were echoing in a large area, and there were a lot of them… Sam could see the end of the tunnel, the end being another door. It was slightly ajar, no doubt to avoid the need for a someone minding the door, and she could see the light beaming through the small gap into the tunnel, illuminating the wall beside her. The voices were on the other side, some louder because of their proximity to the door, but overall it was a constant undulating hum of male and female voices blending together. The sound continued, until even the voice near the door seemed to be joining in this same hum. As Sam reached for the door handle, preparing to slip in, the sound shifted… and Sam’s werewolf blood ran cold, the hair on her neck standing up as her own body fought to respond to the natural call of the pack…

  Because this wasn’t just any hum… This was a HOWL.

  Chapter 10

  “Sam?”

  She could hear Ben’s voice penetrating the din of howling that was overwhelming her and tried to focus on it. The noise began to fade, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of her concentration, or because the sound was really growing quieter, and she didn’t care. Foremost in her mind was the fact that the sound of pack unity had nearly caused her to lose control… and that was decidedly not a good thing.

  “Sam?” Ben’s plea was a harsh whisper now, and yes, the howling really was fading.

  “I’m alright, Benny… I’m alright.” Sam pressed her palms to her forehead, massaging it slightly as a dull ache settled in. This was not good…
so not good…

  “What is this place?” Ben was peeking carefully through the crack in the door. “It’s huge in there… like the underground lair of a super villain.”

  Sam chuckled. “Under the circumstances, that’s probably pretty accurate. I think it’s part of a new water system, actually.” She exhaled roughly and looked up at him. “How bad is it in there?”

  Ben peeked through the crack again, then looked back at her. “Think Times Square, New Year’s Eve. That’s not good.”

  Sam shook her head. “No, no, actually, it’s good. We’ll blend in.” She took a deep breath, hoping that even the somewhat stale air down here would clear her head and energize her enough for whatever lay ahead. “Okay, let’s go. Stay close to me, Benny.” She waited for Ben’s nod of ascent, then carefully tested the door. No squeak… she pulled it open enough for them to squeeze through…

  The chamber was massive, the brick and concrete work on the walls and ceiling clearly new, or at the very least immaculately maintained. Scaffolding and ventilation equipment dominated the space, and Sam was surprised as she breathed in deeply through her nose to smell the freshness of the air.

  Werewolves of both sexes and every class filled the space. Some were casually dressed, while others clearly came from a late night at work, their power suits and top coats a dark and interesting contrast to the tee-shirt and jean crowd. The contrast was even more startling because they seemed to be gravitating toward those sporting a similar wardrobe. It was like gym class, when part of the class wore red or blue or green vests and everyone divided up with their color group. There were familiar people, too, and though a good majority of the crowd was head and even shoulders taller than Sam, she was still able to see some faces and place them quickly as local celebrities and well-knowns. A news anchor from the local affiliate in Queens… A real estate developer from the Upper West Side… A hedge fund manager, several city council members, even an Albanian mob “capo” …

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Ben muttered.

  “We’ll be fine,” Sam answered. “We won’t be staying long.” Suddenly, the room erupted in thunderous applause, and Sam followed the gaze of those around them as all eyes turned toward a portion of scaffolding that was being used as a makeshift dais. Sam could see a handful of people mounting the stairs to the dais, and Sam recognized the gentleman stepping forward with a cordless microphone as one of her Criminal Justice professors from John Jay. The batteries were low, or the microphone was cheap, or there was interference from the ventilations system… whatever it was, Sam could barely here anything that was said as he spoke… something about a “cause,” “the people,” and “the movement.” He smiled and stepped back, seemingly a signal to the masses because a roll of applause started in the front rows and made its way back toward them.

  The applause intensified as a woman stepped forward from behind him. Slender and average in height, she was blandly attractive and sported a blonde pixie haircut that intensified her fairy-like appearance. She smiled as she took the microphone from the professor and looked out on the crowd. She began to speak, and though it was difficult to hear anything of what she was saying, the tone of her voice was pleasant and strangely familiar, and Sam frowned as she racked her brain, trying to remember where she had seen this woman before.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben had whispered, but she hadn’t known he was so close to her ear. Sam jumped slightly, bumping into one of the men standing near them. She muttered a “sorry” as she turned back to Ben.

  “That woman… I can’t place her, but I know her.”

  Ben nodded. “Can’t remember her name, but she’s a congresswoman from Brooklyn.”

  Realization dawned on Sam’s face. “Yes, I know her! I worked her detail when I was in uniform. You know, before. Strong… Donna Strong.” Sam looked around the room, her suddenly focused mind seeing face after face, all familiar to her… Business people, professors, politicians, cops…

  “Sam, I don’t think all these people are… converts. Sam?”

  Sam was focused on the face of a man on the other side of the aisle. She hunched her shoulders slightly, trying to hide herself behind a group of college-age men and women in front of her, but still able to peek around and see the man she’d spotted. She’d seen him enough times since October to have his pinched, petulant features burned in her brain, been to that small room downtown at Internal Affairs and sat across the table from him… He abruptly turned his gaze in her direction and Sam ducked behind the college kids and started weaving through the crowd. She grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him along as they made their way toward the door.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We just need to go… Now!”

  The trip through the crowd was quicker than she expected, and Sam hoped that wasn’t because they had moved too fast and drawn too much attention to themselves. The congresswoman was still talking as they reached the door and Sam turned to look back once more. She caught a quick glimpse of another blonde, this one younger with longer hair. Her dark eyes were fixed on Sam, a strange soulful gaze that drew Sam in and made her shiver with a kind of revulsion at the same time. Sam parted her lips, trying to hone in on the scent of the girl, but the overwhelming volume of werewolves made it impossible to single her out.

  Suddenly everything was black leather, the girl blocked from her view, and Sam knew who had blocked her view before she even looked up. The smell of the leather, mint and his utter maleness almost overwhelmed her, and she felt her stomach give a butterfly-filled lurch. She raised her eyes slowly to meet Vincent’s dark ones. He was frowning, his jaw clenched… It was probably a bad choice, but in her sudden anxiety about his mood and their location, Sam resorted to flippancy when she spoke.

  “Well, hi… fancy meeting you here among the --”

  She never finished that sentence as Vincent whirled her around and pushed her toward the door.

  Chapter 11

  Sam could feel the heat of Vincent’s hand as he rather roughly shoved her into the stairwell. She saw Ben and felt him fall into step behind her. They moved quickly, the clanging and rattling of the metal platforms and stairs echoing through the tunnel. Several times Vincent slowed, turning to look back, presumably to see if anyone was following them, though his gaze often lingered only on her.

  As they neared the exit, Sam slowed down. She could feel the burning in her leg muscles, her body begging for a moments rest after such a long period of steady climbing. She felt the hesitant touch of Ben’s hand on her shoulder as he fell into step behind her.

  “He’s in a mood, isn’t he?” Sam knew he meant Vincent, and she could wholeheartedly agree. Once again, the brooding Irishman was dishing out an extra helping of broody tonight, and Sam could feel her temper beginning to rise. Controlling her emotions and holding her tongue had never been a strong suit especially when faced with sullen, borderline rude men.

  The exit door opened a flight above them and Sam could see Vincent’s silhouette in the doorway as he exited. She sped up, and felt Ben speed up behind her as well. They jogged up the remaining steps of the staircase and pushed through the heavy metal door, exiting out into the clear, chill night. Sam breathed deeply, relishing the feel of the sharply cold air, clean of the day’s pollution and the sun’s heat, as it whooshed through her nose and mouth, down into her lungs. She could feel her head clearing from the effects of the claustrophobic ascent, her body relaxing and the aches and pains fading from her leg muscles.

  “Where did tall, dark, and broody go?”

  Sam chuckled and looked over at Ben. He shuffled over to a nearby bench and collapsed on it, leaning back and stretching his slender legs out in front of him. He was in good shape, mostly from the runs he still took several times a week, but it had been a relentless climb.

  “I don’t know, but…” She took a deep breath and blew it out with a whoosh. “I intend to find out.” Sam frowned with concern as she looked at her friend, then glanced nervously at t
he door they had just exited from. “Benny, I don’t like leaving you by yourself.”

  Ben waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about me. They didn’t even notice me. I’ll be fine. Station’s what, two hundred feet from here, maybe?” He nodded, as if confirming the answer to his own question. “I’ll be fine, Sam… Do what you’ve gotta do.”

  Sam hesitated for a moment… Benny was a lousy liar, always had been, so if he was scared or concerned, she would have seen through the bravado and picked up on it. He was incredibly calm, though, and after taking a moment to subtly scent him, searching for any trace of fear or other concerning emotion, Sam was satisfied that Ben was good. Now, to locate Vincent…

  Sam glanced around and, spotting a large boulder, one of the many that had been whisked from the Hudson Valley into the park by an ancient glacier, and quickly found foot- and hand-holds to climb to the top. It wasn’t about getting a good view… Even with her enhanced vision, Sam couldn’t see clearly in the dark… But she could SMELL very clearly, forming a more precise picture of the landscape in front of her, of the open lawn area, the pine trees, the brush that designated the edge of the Ramble… and the man moving through that brush, raising his own scent as he brushed through their branches. A subtle smile spread across her lips.

  Not so subtle, though, that Ben didn’t notice. His own grin was broad as his head lolled back to look up at her. “You smell him?”

  Sam looked down, her smile widening. “Of course.”

  “That is so fucking cool.”

  Sam rolled her eyes and quickly skittered down the side of the boulder, jumping the last couple of feet and landing lightly on the grass. She turned to Ben, concern once again marring her brow. “Are you sure you’ll --”

  “Go!” Ben waved her away. He stood quickly and started walking toward the nearest subway station. Sam watched after him for a moment, waiting until she heard his footfall on the pavement leading toward 77th Street. She turned then, scented one more time. Vincent had stopped moving, was lingering there somewhere in the Ramble. He wouldn’t be hard to find.