by Mark Stone
Though Marcus had given him the go ahead to partner with Cross on this investigation, getting a gun and badge was something else entirely.
As it stood, the knife was what stood between him and whoever had crashed this car into the bakery. As he neared, he saw that person was...nowhere to be found.
Nearing the car, he found the driver's seat to be completely empty. Clutching tightly on the hilt of his knife, Anchor looked into the car. There was no one in it at all. What was more, this close he could tell the car's engine wasn't on. But, if that was the case, how did the damned thing come crashing through the window?
Looking over, he saw the car was in neutral. Someone had pushed the car toward the bakery, but why?
A shot rang through the backroom as if to answer the question. It had been a distraction, and now Cross was at the center of something horrible.
Chapter 9
Anchor rushed toward the door, his heart beating hard and, from the feel of it, resting squarely in his throat. He wanted this. He worked for this. When he made the discovery about the Willful Guild using the the Jewels of Pascal, it took a lot of convincing to get Marcus to let him in on this. All while that process was going on, while he was making his case and explaining why he was the best (and only) person for this job, he kept thinking about all the good he could do.
His entire life, he had been a man unlike any his family had ever seen. His father was a businessman, a stuffy type of guy who never looked twice at the ocean, much less ever decided to venture out into it. His brother took the same path in life, settling down with a pretty (if a little bit boring) woman, popping out kids and working for an accounting firm up in Boston.
They all looked at him like he was crazy, like he was some sort of ridiculous man who didn’t know any better than to put his life in danger as he dove into dark waters looking for things that - to hear his father tell it - were better left untouched. They didn’t realize why he did it, that out there where the rest of the world melted away was the only place he ever felt at home. They didn’t know that when he was out there searching for things men had fought and died over hundreds of years before his birth- with danger around every corner and a surprise at every turn- were the only times in his life he had ever felt alive.
Until now, that is.
Anchor ran toward the back room, a second shot ringing through the air as he pushed passed the counter, filled with model cakes and free cookie samples, which filled his nose with delicious scents.
He kept reminding himself why he was here, and what he had done to get himself here. He had no place out on the water anymore. One mistake, a horrible mistake, had taken all of that away from him. He had to find a new place to feel at home, a new venture that made him feel alive. And, if possible, he’d like to be able to atone for a few sins along the way. Otherwise, what was the point in any of it?
Clearing the bar, he ran into the back room, wondering how stupid it was to be the person who literally brought a knife to a gun fight, and pushing passed whatever residual fear still existed within him.
This man who had literally dove headfirst into danger on so many of his expeditions had no idea what he was going to find as he ran into the room, his knife raised in his hand as though it might shield him from one of the errant bullets he’d heard fired a few seconds ago.
As he blinked and took in the sight, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The room was long and much bigger than he would have thought it was judging by the outside of the building. Lined with industrial ovens and long tables littered with pots, pans, and rolling pins, Anchor figured this was what the inside of a bakery’s back room was supposed to look like.
The four figures dressed all in black, complete with black full on head stockings, standing against the back wall though, were obviously an unwanted addition.
“My God,” Anchor choked out, spying the weapons in the figures’ hands and realizing he might not have been as outmatched weapon-wise as he previously thought. Instead of guns, the quartet was holding an array of vintage weaponry. Swords, maces, even a whip; each seemed to have a different piece of some ancient arsenal. Though, if that was true, where did the shot he’d heard before running into the room come from?
“Get down!” Kate screamed.
Looking over, Anchor saw the woman crouched behind one of ovens, her body pressed against the side with her gun drawn. Beside her, Chloe had crumpled into a ball on the floor, practically shaking with fear. And, next to her, sat a young man with dyed blue hair who must have been the helper Chloe had complained about before.
“Get the hell down, Anchor!” Kate repeated.
Looking back over at the four figures against the wall, a truth settledinto Anchor. There were four of them and, as of right now, he only accounted for three weapons. His eyes moving to the figure whose weapon wasn’t accounted for, he saw a musket in the figure’s hand.
It made sense now; both where the shots came from and why Kate was so intent on him ducking for cover. Anchor’s body jumped into action as the figure lifted the musket quickly.
A loud boom sounded throughout the room and, as his body flew through the air toward the back side of an oven near Kate and the others, he heard the bullet whiz by him. It was so close, so near to his ear, that Anchor could have sworn it nicked him.
Anchor landed hard on the tile floor and scurried toward the side of it for cover. His heart was racing and his mind was spinning. His head twisted to the side, his attention turning to Kate in hopes she might be able to give him some direction.
As was becoming a theme with the woman, she didn’t look nearly as frantic as Anchor imagined she might be. In fact, if she felt even a piece of the worry that was weighing down on him at this moment, you couldn’t tell it by looking at her.
“You okay? You’re bleeding,” Kate said, looking Anchor over as her hand moved to his ear. He jerked away instinctively in pain.
“It’s nothing,” he answered. “One of the shots must have nicked me.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “The gun that bastard is carrying is old, and it doesn’t work like yours. The ammo it shoots is like an explosion. Judging by the specific nature of the weapon, it could hit you with as many as ten bullet particles.”
“Nine more than I need to take him out,” Kate answered, glaring over at Chloe and her helper. “No matter what happens, the two of you stay put. You understand me?”
Chloe was a mess of nerves, still shaking on the ground. Her helper nodded though, as though he understood and agreed for the both of them.
“And you,” Kate said, turning back to Anchor. “You don’t move either.”
“That’s not in your best interest,” Anchor said, turning back to the black clad crew and narrowing his eyes. “They have us outnumbered and, thanks to your boss’s iron grip on firearms, they’ve got us outgunned too, but we have something they don’t.”
“And what would that be? A head as thick as a mountain range? I told you not to move, and that’s what you’re going to do,” Kate said through clenched teeth.
“Technology,” Anchor answered, ignoring Kate. “If I’m right, and I usually am, it’ll take a full minute to reload that gun. I’m guessing that’s why I didn’t hear more shots than I did when I was investigating that car, which was empty by the way.” He swallowed hard again. “I’ll take him out before he can do that. Once I do, the whip is the most problematic weapon they have.” He shook his head. “But it’s no match for your gun.”
“Absolutely not,” Kate said, huffing hard.
“They’re not coming toward us, Cross,” Anchor said. “They’re standing there, biding their time, and that’s because they need it. If I don’t do this though, if he’s able to reload that gun, there’s no guarantee all of us will make it.”
“And what’s to stop the one with sword from slicing you in half?” Kate asked.
Anchor smiled that cocky grin of his again.
“That’s an easy answer,” he said. “You
are, Kate. I’m going to need you to cover me.”
Before she could answer, the man stood and ran toward the black clad quartet.
Chapter 10
Kate looked in abject horror as the man she’d met earlier today threw himself headlong into danger.
Of all the people she’d been forced to work with over the years, in this moment, Kate couldn’t think of one who irked her in the same way this man did. He was reckless and cocky and everything she despised in a man. She liked order and he did not. What was more, he was putting the rest of them in danger too. By rushing toward these heavily (if strangely) armed people dressed all in black, Anchor left Kate no choice but to jump into action well before backup could arrive.
“Hey,” she said quickly, not so much to Chloe, but to her much less nervous employee, as she thrust herself upward and aimed toward the people who were undoubtedly going to attack Anchor as he closed on them with what looked to be a tiny switchblade in his hand. “I know I told you to stay put, but things are about to go south here. I can feel it.”
“No matter what,” the young man said, his voice more rushed and raw than Kate would have hoped for. The kid was obviously nervous, though he wasn’t as nervous as the panicked ball of a woman beside him on the floor. So Kate was going to have to choose the best of her options. “That’s what you said. You told us not to move no matter what,” he continued, swallowing hard.
“I know, but I need you to trust me now, okay,” she answered, her eyes still trained on the man. “These guys are after her,” Kate said, motioning to Chloe while still looking at Anchor. “She said you two were family, right?”
“Yeah,” the boy said, his voice starting to shake a little.
“You do for your family, kid. They are all you have,” Kate answered, thinking about the way her father used to tell her that exact same sentence the exact same way she was saying it now. “I know you’re scared. It’s a scary thing, but if you can, I need you to take her out. Grab her, be careful of the broken glass and all of that, but run out. A car came through the front of the building. So cops should be close by. If they’re not out there yet though, I want you to take her to the nearest open store. Tell the people inside what’s going on and stay put until you see me or another officer.” She blinked and continued. “Can you do that for me, kid?”
The boy didn’t answer with words. Instead, Kate could feel him scoop the woman up and run out with her. Thankfully, the black clad people didn’t respond. They must have been too occupied with the reality star bridging the gap between them to do that.
Now all Kate had to worry about was keeping this moron safe, though that might have been a more complicated endeavor than Kate imagined. Something wasn’t right.
The people Anchor was running toward, the four figures clad from head to toe in black, stood eerily still as the pompous moron neared them. That set her flashers off in all the bad ways. They weren’t worried about Anchor’s attack. Even the one with the musket wasn’t working to reload his gun.
Why would that be though? If their plan was to grab Chloe, as Anchor said, then why would they just stay put as she was carted out of view? Even if a man was rushing toward them, there were four of them.
Or were there more?
Oh no. With a start, Kate realized what was going on. They weren’t moving, because they were just biding time. The car ramming through the front door was to drive Kate and Anchor into the back room, and the cloaked figures were to draw Chloe back out.
And the only reason she would be drawn back out was if there were more people, if there was someone out there to grab her while they were busy dealing with the figures.
It all made sense now, and Kate had been stupid enough to play right into their hands. If she was right, and she knew she was, she would now have to decide between saving the life of her foolish new partner or stopping the Willful Guild from taking Chloe.
Damn.
Chapter 11
Kate’s mind spun as she considered her options. If she rushed out to save Chloe from the hands of the Willful Guild, then Anchor would likely become their next victim. Though the group hadn't killed anyone yet, Kate doubted they’d hold back on a would be police officer who came barreling toward them like a makeshift Magnum PI. If she stayed though, Chloe would fall into the clutches of the guild who had already put so many people through so much.
If the statements of former victims of the guild were any indication, Chloe would likely be kidnapped and held in a dark room. She’d stay there, fed every day, for a few weeks until she was strapped with a bomb or some other sort of device, and forced to march into a bank, asking them to clean out their safes and the like.
She’d then be dropped off in the middle of nowhere- on the side of a back road or in the middle of the swamp- having never seen her captures faces or any geographical signs that would let her know where or by whom she was taken.
It was a horrible pattern that had to be stopped, but was a person’s life going to be the cost?
No. She had to do both. She had to- as Marcus was such a fan of saying- think outside the box. And she didn’t have any time left to do it.
Anchor slammed into the figure holding the musket shoulder first. The black laden figure slammed hard against the wall, crumpling and dropping the gun in his hands. As Kate knew would happen though, the rest of the figures didn’t waste any time in attacking. One of them, holding a mace, kicked Anchor hard in the leg and then- as the man fell- in the gut.
The other figure, holding the knife, lifted the weapon’s hilt. In a second, the blade would be brought down, slicing through Anchor’s neck, judging by the angle of it.
Kate couldn’t allow that. Even if it meant losing Chloe, even if it meant possibly subjecting the woman to the hell the others had been through, she couldn’t watch an innocent man be murdered in front of her eyes, even a man as irritating as this one.
Lifting her gun high enough to just miss, she shot into the wall. The bullet whizzed through the air, hitting the wall just inches above the sworded figure’s head, her intended target.
As Kate imagined, the figure jumped away instinctively.
“Freeze,” Kate said, her eyes narrowed and her arms stretched out in front of her. The gun couldn’t be pointed at all of them at once, and normally, that would have been a problem. For whatever reason, these morons were armed like it was the 19th century though, and that meant she had the upper hand.
“Get your asses away from him, and maybe I won’t put holes in every one of your skulls,” the woman said.
It was a bluff, of course. She was a good cop, and good cops didn’t kill people just because they were bad. Still, she wouldn’t hesitate to fire again if any of these people even flinched in her partner’s direction. She’d make sure she didn’t miss this time though she couldn’t hit all of them.
“You have no idea what you’re up against,” one of the figures said. The voice was obviously a man’s and - though she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure- it sounded like that of an older man with a Northern accent, maybe Minnesota.
“Maybe not,” Kate said. “But I’m sure, after I bring all of you downtown and question the lot of you, I’ll have a much clearer picture.” She moved around the barrier of the stove, her hands still stretched out in an offensive position. “Wanna know something about bringing in multiple suspects at once? There’s always one who talks. Even cultists guild bastards like yourselves always have one. I wonder which one of you it’s going to be? I wonder which of you is going to crack. Will it be the one with the mace? The one with the whip?”
“Maybe it’ll be the one with the pistol,” the black clad figure said and, before Kate could make sense of what he’d said, the man pulled a gun from an unseen holster on his hip.
Like something out of one of the Westerns her father used to watch when she was younger, the man fired the instant he’d cleared leather.
Kate’s training kicked in. She dove for cover, lunging back behind the oven again.
Breathing hard, she heard a loud yell and thought the worst. Had the sworded man finished his job? What she just heard, was it the last strangled plea of Russell Anchorage?
Looking over top of the oven, she saw how wrong she was. The cry came from the man with the pistol. Anchor had jammed his switchblade into the man’s leg and followed that up with some sort of move that left the man on the ground.
With Kate watching, Anchor threw an elbow into one of the men, and a kick and jab into the other two. They stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Still, it was enough to allow Anchor to break free, running toward Kate at top speed.
Quickly, the group recovered, running toward Anchor quickly.
“Hit the light!” Anchor yelled, motioning toward the long fluorescent light which singlehandedly illuminated the windowless backroom.
Jerking her arm up quickly, Kate did as she was asked and shot out the light. Aside from a sliver of light coming from the outside through the open door, the room fell into darkness.
Anchor collided with Kate, wrapping an arm around her, and pulling her out of the room.
He slammed the door shut and locked it tight.
“There’s a back door,” Kate said, breathing heavy. “We need to get around, to cut them off at the pass.”
“We have other problems, Cross,” Anchor said, looking forward, out into the demolished room.
Kate blinked, turning and looking in the direction of Anchor’s gaze.
There, on the floor, lay a bleeding Chloe. She looked to be unconscious, cradled in the arms of her employee.
The boy was obviously shaken, now also jerking the way Chloe had been in the backroom.
“I stopped him,” the boy said, blinking tears out of his eyes. “He was right here when we came out, waiting for her. I fought him. I pulled at him. He was stronger than me though. He was going to kill me. He was going to stab me in the chest, but she threw herself in front of me. She sacrificed herself for me. I can’t…I don't know what to do.”