The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  Sam looked at the short sentences comprising the message. It had been a long time since she read German, but like riding a bicycle it quickly came back to her as she looked at the words—

  Heute Abend. Unter den Stausee. Fenris Bund. Elf Uhr. Lang lebe das pack.

  Ben watched her face impatiently. “So, that means—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know what it means.” Sam sighed, almost more of a groan. It would take some research to find the where, but the what was very clear... The werewolves were planning a rally for tonight... Sam reread the words at the end... Lang lebe das pack... Long live the pack. “Are you sure? I don’t want to go looking for trouble if it’s not...them.”

  Ben pursed his lips. Using his thumb and index finger, he swiped across the screen, bringing one of the smallest images in the message into focus, enlarging it enough to make its shape, its design, unmistakable.

  The Wolfsangel was old German, a symbol that had been part of forestry and heraldry in that country for centuries. The double hook design was known as a crampon and could still be found as a boundary marker in Lower Saxony, but it’s importance in this circumstance dated to a much more recent time. Co-opted by the Nazis in the 1930’s, the crampon had a transversal stroke slapped across its center and became a universally recognized symbol for the Nazi party. More specifically, it was the symbol for Operation Wehrwolf, the program instituted by Heinrich Himmler and overseen by Dr. Joseph Mengele with the purpose of creating the ultimate weapon for the Third Reich... A program that had been in operation when Sam’s grandfather, Ivan, had entered Auschwitz-Birkenau.

  Now... apparently, it had become the pack’s call sign or brand or something. Message after message Ben swiped through bore the symbol. No mistaking this...

  Sam sighed. “Scheisse.” She took another sip of her beer, a long sip, draining the bottle. She’d like another one, but being intoxicated when she would be going into who knew what? Not the best idea. Plus, she’d have to watch Benny, because the look on his face and the nervous movements of anticipation told her there was no way he wouldn’t be going with her. “Alright, I’ll get dressed. What do you wear to a Bund Rally anyway?”

  9

  THE STREETS WERE QUIET, not surprising for this time of night when work was done, and most people had made their way home for the night, or south toward Times Square, Soho and the Village bars and clubs. Sam and Ben emerged from the subway station, heading west along 86th street. The messages had indicated that the meeting, the “wolf Bund” as they called it, would be in Central Park near the reservoir, and Sam had concluded that the 6 train would get them closest to Engineer’s Gate and the entrance to the Bridle Path. Once there, it would be a matter of finding a way in, since the postings had said under the reservoir. Under... Sam shook her head... Leave it to these savvy weres to discover the underground workings of the city so quickly. There were facilities everywhere under the city, old mechanical rooms, abandoned subway stations, bunkers of all sorts... Holding hidden meetings or organizing out of sight would be easy, IF you could get access. That was the part that puzzled Sam, and worried her, because if the werewolves were getting access to these underground places without fear, someone was allowing it. And that could only mean one –

  “So, how’s Lenny? He back to work yet?” Sam mentally shook her head, focusing on what Ben had said to her. She knew what he was trying to do... She’d undoubtedly had that little crinkle frown forming between her eyebrows and he concluded she was worrying, hence the distraction. She really wished it had been a different topic he’d used to stimulate distracting conversation, though.

  “He’s okay. He’s supposed to come back on a desk next week.”

  “Not with you?”

  Sam chuckled, and dug in her pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. “Not likely. He’s still a detective, Benny. I’m not.”

  “Right.” They walked along in silence for a few moments, crossing Fifth Avenue at a jog then turning north. It was four blocks to the Engineer’s Gate. Ben watched as Sam lit a cigarette and enjoyed her “nicotine fit,” as he called it, for a moment before he continued. “So, when do I get to meet the new partner?”

  Sam smiled. “Why would you want to meet the new partner?”

  “Why not? What’s this one look like?”

  Sam was quiet for a moment. “Um... tall...”

  Ben threw her a frustrated frown. “Tall? What kind of a description is ‘tall’?”

  “Okay...” Sam thought another moment, then her eyes widened. “Ah, I know... If Bradley Cooper and David Gandy got together and had a kid, it would be Frank Ronne.”

  Ben’s eyebrows went up as well, and Sam wondered if they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “Gandy?” The eyebrows lowered quickly into a frown. “Gandy,” he muttered again.

  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, 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 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... h
im. 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 downstairs 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.

  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 topcoats 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 familia
r, 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... Businesspeople, 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 home in on the scent of the girl, but the overwhelming volume of werewolves made it impossible to single her out.