The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  Sam glanced at her watch again. Noon. The mysterious Question Mark should be arriving shortly, or perhaps was already here. She positioned herself strategically, and walked slowly along the interior of the portico, watching the garden for any sign of movement. Her trip through the museum’s many rooms had shown her many potential escape routes, so getting out was not an issue. Unless, of course, there was more than one, or even two, people who showed... Things could get complicated then.

  Sam paused in her walk, parted her lips slightly and set about scenting the air, inhaling through her nose and allowing the air to move over her tongue as well. She’d perfected the move over time, making it barely perceptible unless you knew what you were looking for. She inhaled again and frowned.

  Someone was here, and he smelled...familiar. She scented again, struggling to place it. It smelled a lot like Ronne, but she would have felt him clearly if he’d disregarded her request and skipped off work to follow her. No, it wasn’t him, but... Sam caught a small movement out of the corner of her eye... across the garden, in the opposite portico... She steeled herself internally, willing her muscles to prepare for what could be a fight. She briefly glanced over the plants near her... Hopefully, they didn’t cause too much damage...

  Sam started forward again and aimed for the archway that opened to the garden path. She slowed as she neared it and stayed tucked behind the bit of stone wall as she peeked around the corner cautiously. She gasped at what she saw, and then almost as soon couldn’t see, because her eyes had filled to brimming with tears. She clasped one hand over her mouth as she stepped free of the stone wall, and stared at the person who had come to meet her...

  His eyes were a bit different, older in some ways, but everything else was the same... the black hair, the eyeliner, the goth wardrobe... Sam thought for a moment it was a dream, or hallucination, or something... Until he winked at her and smiled.

  Benny!

  17

  BEN LEWIS’ CONCERNS that he might be greeted with a punch to the face were all put to rest when he saw the look on Sam’s face, and felt the rather crushing warmth of the hug she ran to give him. It was like she’d thought he was dead, which he found out moments later had actually been the case.

  “Sammy, I’m so sorry,” Ben said, and his voice caught as his own eyes filled with tears. “I never meant... I...”

  “It’s okay,” Sam replied, and wiped her eyes as she smiled. “The important thing is that you’re alive. That’s all that matters right now. But...” She narrowed her gaze, the smile fading slightly as she glared at him. “I reserve the right to punch you in the arm later... Hard.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  They wandered the hallways and climbed the stairs to the second floor, walking arm-in-arm through the hall of tapestries. It was warm, comfortable, familiar, and Sam couldn’t help but enjoy the small talk about the neighborhood, local goings on in the Villages and the Lower East Side, the cast changes on Doctor Who...They slowed near the Unicorn Tapestries, and Sam’s eyes roamed over the intricately woven designs depicting the hunt for and capture of the legendary unicorn.

  “I wonder if they’re real, too.”

  “What? You mean unicorns?”

  “Yeah.” Ben looked at the panel in front of them... the unicorn captured, chained to a tree, a fence surrounding it. Sam smiled, and threw an arm around his shoulders.

  “Who knows, Benny? Maybe they still are.”

  Benny chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. Somewhere in the forests of Germany.” His smile faded. “It was...really hard here without you, you know. I mean, Ronne was cool and all, but...it wasn’t you.”

  Sam wore a teary smile as she hugged her best friend. He seemed taller, though that wasn’t possible... No, not taller, leaner. Sam could feel the difference as she hugged him the second time and said as much to him. Ben grinned sheepishly.

  “I’ve been too busy to eat sometimes. They have been too busy for me to eat.”

  Sam’s grin faded. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

  Ben took a deep breath and glanced around. The museum was still empty, still quiet, but he seemed uneasy. Sam really wanted to hang out and see if she could find that book, or whatever it was, but today wasn’t going to be the day. She needed to know what Ben knew, and what caused him to go missing, and right now he was ready to tell it.

  “Benny, are you hungry?”

  “Starving. Why?”

  Thirty minutes later, they sat in a Chinese restaurant, devouring chicken and beef dishes. It had taken longer to find a place to eat than Sam expected, mostly because Ben insisted on her scenting each restaurant they attempted to dine in. Sam wasn’t sure what was more alarming: that Ben was so concerned about them being overheard, or that this little back alley Chinese restaurant was the first one they encountered where she didn’t smell anyone “wolfy”. Apparently, the virus was spreading faster than she’d ever imagined, and Ben said as much when he started talking in between mouthfuls of rice and bites of egg rolls.

  “They’ve found a new way to spread it,” Ben said as he chewed. He used his little finger to brush a piece of cabbage from the egg roll into his mouth and smiled when he noticed Sam smiling. “Sorry.”

  “For what? You’re hungry! Eat!” Sam giggled as he took another bite of the egg roll, but she quickly grew somber as his words replayed in her mind. Another way to spread it... “How are they spreading it?”

  Ben swallowed what was in his mouth before he began: “After you left, things got pretty quiet for a while. Then there was this big outbreak of Legionnaire’s in a neighborhood in Brooklyn. Four square blocks, hundreds of families, men, women, kids, all moved out and relocated. It was the top news story for a week and a half... then nothing. Thing is, this wasn’t the first time it happened.”

  “I heard about that.” Sam frowned. “And it was definitely Legionnaire’s, or was it...” She trailed off, her stomach sinking down somewhere in her shoes. She did not want to hear this answer, but, in a way, she already knew what it would be.

  “That’s what the medical experts said... But they are also all supporters of Congresswoman Strong’s mayoral campaign. I checked, and they’ve all donated to her campaign. Some have even maxed out their political contributions on her.”

  “The other outbreak was where?”

  “The Bronx. Arthur Avenue.” The wheels in Sam’s mind started spinning fast. The neighborhood had once been Italian, but now it was mostly Hispanic, with a smattering of Eastern Europeans and die-hard Italians filling it out. She knew the neighborhood, both from working carnival spots there as a teenager, and from the time when she dated a guy from the neighborhood.

  Mikael Dushku had been in classes with her at John Jay, and their relationship had grown out of a mutual love for coffee and books. In fact, their first dates had been in a Barnes and Noble near the campus, the two enjoying lattes and discussing the classics and classwork in equal measure. Sam was shocked to discover that this well-read, charming, and sexy young man was also the son of one of the top Albanian mob bosses in the North East. That discussion had been an interesting one, as Mikael laid out his ultimate plans for himself in the “family business”, and his ultimate hope for the role Sam might play. As a Criminal Justice major, planning to join the police force, Sam felt a bit confused by his plans. The relationship had disintegrated quickly afterwards, with Mikael’s behavior with other women making it easy for Sam to walk away.

  Hearing the location and knowing from his own father words six months ago that Mikael was working with the Pack, Sam wondered how much he had to do with this “outbreak” that occurred.

  “How many people died, Ben?” Ben paused, and his chopsticks hovered about the dish of beef and broccoli. He glanced up at her, cleared his throat.

  “Not many... officially.”

  “And unofficially?”

  “Unofficially...” Ben exhaled, laid the chopsticks down. “The papers, the news, they kept everything as quiet as they could, but other information
started to turn up online. The message boards on the Underland were practically screaming with chatter about it. It was the stuff in the secret boards, though, that was really important.”

  “The secret boards?”

  Ben nodded. “They’re kind of like Easter Eggs on a DVD or in a video game. If you know how to get to them, you can get into these chat rooms that function as live message boards. The people in there are constantly commenting and posting about things going on all over the Underland. It’s kind of like command central. In there, you actually get facts. And the facts were... Eight-five percent mortality. Mostly the elderly, adults, and teenagers.”

  “What about the younger kids?”

  “The ones who survived the so-called Legionnaire’s supposedly went on with their relocated parents.”

  Sam frowned. “What do you mean ‘supposedly’?”

  “Well,” Ben began, and reached for another egg roll. “No one could find them for a while, and then someone did.” He took a bite of the egg roll, chewed slowly as he continued: “I was online, early part of June. I usually go on at night, so I wasn’t surprised when a familiar handle told me someone was looking for me. Obviously, I don’t use my real name, so I knew whoever it was wasn’t really looking for the real me, but I was curious, so I made my presence known.

  “I waited for nearly an hour. I was beginning to wonder if anybody was going to come on, when a private chat box beeped. The handle was ‘AP GRRL’, so I’m thinking it’s some girl who wants to get frisky in the chat box or something.”

  “Hang on,” Sam held up a hand, an eyebrow arched. “’Get frisky in the chat box’? Does that happen a lot?”

  Ben chuckled. “You’d be surprised. Anyway, we started talking, and she started telling me about shit going on in this mayoral campaign, about the outbreak in Brooklyn, and what happened afterwards. So, I’m thinking this is great information, but how can I trust you? I said that to her, too, and the reply I got was an invitation to video chat. I was going to shut it off right then, but she messages and says that if I want to save lives, I need to accept it. So, I did.”

  “And?”

  Ben hesitated, his puppy dog brown eyes looking at Sam with apprehension. “AK GRRL... was Alice Kremer.”

  Sam could feel her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. Alice Kremer got in touch with Ben. She briefly felt a twinge of anger, then rationalized how ridiculous it was to feel that way, since Alice’s promise had involved not harming Ben... She hadn’t promised not to talk to him.

  “Alice got in touch with you to tell you what was going on?”

  Ben nodded solemnly. “Yes. And she had plenty to say. We talked for a long time, and then we arranged to meet so she could show me...”

  “Show you what, Benny?”

  “The outbreaks in Brooklyn and the Bronx... There were kids who survived... When Alice found out what happened, what really happened, she went looking for the kids... And she found them. They trumped up a study program... something about a new ADHD drug... and they have the kids living in a brownstone up in Harlem.”

  Sam stared at the table, her mind struggling to process what she was hearing. First Prutzmann trying to help them, dying in his attempt to protect her, and now Alice Kremer going all noble? What the hell was going on?

  “Did Alice say she saw these kids?”

  “She did. I saw them, too. Through the fence... they were in the back yard.”

  Sam raised her eyes, meeting Ben’s gaze. She’d missed that look... the sincerity, the lack of judgement, the twinkle of humor... She teared slightly, thinking of how close she had come to losing him... then, briefly, she thought of Alice, and wondered whether the young woman knew John Prutzmann was dead... She thought about asking Ben if he knew where Alice was, but something needed to be done first...

  “Can you get to the brownstone again? Do you know the way?”

  Ben nodded. “Sure. It’s not far from here.”

  “Then let’s go. I need to see these kids.”

  18

  WEST 121st Street

  Near Marcus Garvey Park

  The Den... that’s what Ben told Sam on the way to the brownstone. Harlem was not the first area of the island to succumb to gentrification, but it may have been the most memorable, in part because of the outcry from the residents, and from high-ranking members of the black community throughout the Five Boroughs. Other neighborhoods were beautified, renovated, and opened to young professionals and their families, who often ended up being white. One could argue from both sides of the aisle and likely be right... but whether you believed it was just or unjust, racist or not, the plain fact was the cultural makeup of neighborhoods throughout the city had changed, and not everyone was happy about it.

  The Den was as standard a brownstone as one would expect to find here, complete with stone and concrete stairs out front, potted red geraniums on either side of the doorway, and crisp white sheers on all the windows. Being daytime, it was impossible to get a good look inside, but Sam’s keen eyesight allowed her to pick up some things, even though she and Ben were standing across the street. Edges of furniture here and there... a small doll sitting in a window seat on the second floor... Several windows up on the second and third floors were open, and she caught the movement of curtains blowing in the summer breeze as it wafted through.

  Sam couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside the house, but she could smell them...

  “You said you saw them through the fence in the backyard? How do we get there?”

  Ben didn’t answer but motioned for her to follow him. Instead of crossing the street, however, he moved parallel to the house on the side they were on. Past one house, then another, and Sam was beginning to wonder if he was stalling because he didn’t remember how to get back there. She kicked herself moments later for underestimating her Benny, because he suddenly crossed, and the pair found themselves in a very narrow sort of alley that went between two of the brownstones. It was incredibly narrow and blocked by a pair of lilac bushes, making it invisible to the average person who didn’t know where to look.

  They squeezed in, and Sam was grateful for the narrowness for another reason: if they had to make a quick escape, few if any werewolves would be able to get through this crevasse to pursue them. It almost felt like it was narrowing, when suddenly it widened slightly, enough to turn and move facing forward instead of sideways.

  “We’re almost there,” Ben murmured, his breath a bit ragged from the strain of holding it to wiggle through. He wasn’t a big guy, but Sam imagined this was no easy feat for him. Vincent would have had a time, too, and someone like Hudson or Prutzmann would have found it impossible.

  Sam could see it opening in front of them, and seconds later she followed Ben out of the space. They were in someone’s backyard, but Sam ascertained as she glanced at one of the back windows, the residence appeared to be empty.

  “We’re not close,” Sam whispered. “How do we get to them?” Ben put a finger to his lips for quiet, then jerked his head toward the back of the tiny yard. He moved quickly along the edge of the hedge, and, when he reached the back of the yard, pushed through the back hedge. Seconds later, his hand reached through, and gestured for Sam to follow, which she did.

  “It’s a tunnel.” Sam looked at the high box hedge surrounding them. Both sides were overgrown, joining in places at the top edge and forming a true tunnel over the space between them. Peeking through, she could see the properties on either side, and wondered who the genius was that decided to use evergreens for fencing instead of, well, fencing.

  They hurried along the path, pausing before each set of houses to determine if anyone was in the backyard. Not that it would have stopped them, since the tightly-planted hedges were so thoroughly overgrown they would have had to make a great deal of noise to draw attention. Well, unless they ran into a dog...

  Ben slowed in front of her, and Sam almost ran up over his heels. He gestured ahead, and she could hear it... the sniff, snuff, sniff o
f a rather small and likely yippy kind of dog. Fuck!!! The dog moved closer... Terrier...double fuck!!! She could feel the tension emanating off Ben as it built up in his shoulders and back, and her own was matching it. The dog came closer, and closer... and stopped. Sam looked down and nearly yelped.

  She hadn’t expected a little Jack Russell face to be staring up at her. She carefully opened her mouth and scented him. He was a little male, youngish, and right now was staring at her like she was his mother. For a second, Sam wanted to be weirded out, but then she saw the light at the end of this proverbial tunnel... Slowly crouching down, she put out a hand toward the dog, her fingers loose and natural.

  “Hey boy,” she whispered, and waited to see what happened. The tail started wagging, but that was no sign of acceptance. Then a tongue came out, carefully giving her outstretched fingers a little taste. The wagging tail became a full body wiggle, and the little dog’s heart was won. Sam gestured to Ben that they should go on, and he started forward. She followed steps behind, and the sounds of four little feet continued to follow them with little Jack bringing up the rear.

  Ben held up a hand again, and they all stopped. “This is it,” he whispered, and pointed to the left. A door slammed on the other side, and they both crouched quickly, though no one could see into the dense overgrowth. Sam found a small gap, enough to peek through, and did so.

  The backyard of The Den was stark, with little in the way of either greenery or playthings. A child stood in the backyard, a girl of maybe eight or nine, and she was wiping at her eyes, and fiddling with her long black ponytail.