by Art DeForest
The hatch appeared to be made out of metal, with no visible latch and no apparent way to climb up to it. “Wonderful.” I said sarcastically. “How are we supposed to get up there and through that without alerting anybody.”
After a brief time of silent thought, Marcus piped up. “Wasn’t there a maintenance ladder a ways back?” He asked.
A short walk back the way we’d come found us looking at an ancient looking ladder, rusty and grimy with age. It seemed sturdy enough though, so Marcus climbed up into the darkness. “There’s an old hatch here. Let me see…” The screeching sound of metal on metal came down to us as Marcus tried to force the old mechanism to do it’s job.
“Well,” said Sara. “So much for stealth. Lets hope there’s nobody up there who wishes us ill.”
After another moment of the squeaking, scrape of hinges, Marcus’ voice drifted down from above. “All clear. Seems to be an old store room of some kind.” The loud report of a sudden sneeze issued down to us causing us all to flinch a little. “Sorry,” came Marcus’ voice followed by a sniff. “It’s really dusty up here.
The sound of movement on the ladder was followed by, “Come on up. It’s a fair sized room with a locked door.” He said. “I’ll try to get it open.”
“Quietly this time if you please.” Said Sara, up through the hatch in the ceiling before starting her ascent up the old ladder.
Deacon started following Sara up before glancing back down to where I stood, looking down at Fangs contemplatively. “ Need some help?” He asked quietly.
“Maybe at the top.” I said as I crouched down to the floor. “Depends on the size of the entry.”
Having said that I looked deeply into Fangs’ eyes trying to convey a mental picture of him on my back as I climbed the ladder. His head cocked to the side as he considered the information. I turned around and crouched lower, giving him access to my body armor encased back.
A soft “Ooph,” escaped my lips as Fangs body weight landed on my back. His front claws found purchase on my shoulders and I could feel his back claws sink deeply into the lower part of my vest as I resumed standing. His head lowered next to my right ear as I started climbing the ladder.
As I reached the top, I could see that the entrance was too narrow to accommodate both Fangs and I at the same time. Just as I opened my mouth to ask for Deacon’s assistance however, Fangs came to a similar realization. I suddenly felt him tense as his hind paws released from my lower vest and quickly joined his front paws on my shoulders. They were only there for a fraction of a second however before his front paws lifted and his hind quarters pushed off strongly, propelling him into the darkness above.
“Well,” I said. “I guess we won’t need help after all.” I said grinning to myself as Fangs’ head appeared over the edge of the hatchway, looking back down at me curiously.
I quickly clambered up the rest of the way to stand in the old storeroom. Concrete walls, dust and cobwebs, greeted my eyes as I looked around. Those features, along with the suddenly oppressive seeming darkness, made the place feel like a cell where some serial killer kept his next victim before taking them off to slaughter.
Marcus was bent near the single metal door in the room, cursing softly as he worked with lock pics at the old, rusted lock mechanism. After another minute he let out a soft grunt of satisfaction as he twisted the tools around and the click of the latch opening sounded loudly to our ears, off the concrete walls.
Opening the door just enough to peek out a small crack between it and the frame, Marcus stared briefly before opening the door wide enough to let us through. Dim lighting that was none the less bright to eyes used to being in near complete darkness, flooded the room. “Seems to be another storage room. This one’s being used however.” Whispered Marcus softly as he slid into the room.
Racks of shelving and boxes on the floor greeted us as we entered. They all seemed to have oriental writing on them, disclosing the contents for those who knew how to read such things. An open entry was at the far end of the room and the subdued sounds of the city could be heard, drifting back to us.
“Well, we certainly can’t go out in public dressed like this.” Said Deacon, looking around at all the weapons and tactical gear strapped to the rest of us.
“Give me a moment.” Said Sara as she drifted towards the entry way. She had the least intimidating appearance of us all. She was dressed in all black like the rest of us but her clothing could best be described as “Ninja Chic.” Black silk slippers and pants made no sounds as she moved and a black belt held a flat black gi or robe closed. The only weapon she had in evidence was her staff and the three foot long sword blade that it concealed. Several throwing knives were tucked into her gi and out of sight.
She slid into the open and muttering could be heard in the front for a few moments. Presently, she came walking back with a small asian man trailing behind her, a bemused expression on his face. “Mr. Mo has graciously allowed us to purchase clothing from his store, so that we can be more unobtrusive out in public. With a wave, she led us all back out into the public front of the store. The proprietor took his place behind the counter, staring off into space with a vacant expression.
“Wow,” I said to Sara as we looked at the various silk and satin garments arrayed around the store. “You must have whammied him really hard. Is he gonna be okay?”
Sara scowled at my phrasing a little, but responded. “He will be fine. His mind was incredibly focused for a human. I had to use an elevated amount of Whammy to subdue him.” She said with twisting lips as if the word tasted bad or something. Sheesh.
The clothing in the store was for the most part, garish far eastern clothing, meant to attract the tourists as they walked the streets of Chinatown, but we all managed to find a few things that helped conceal our equipment.
Both Marcus and Deacon wearing Hollywood’s version of a peasant top, basically a match to what Sara was wearing only much larger. I was surprised that they had anything in the store that would fit the two big, strapping males. I have to admit, they looked good though. Pecs made yummy bulges in the tight fitting tops and since there were no sleeves, bulging biceps were shown off to excellent effect next to the black silk. Cheap, but stylish sunglasses off a rack at the counter made them look like the hired muscle for some triad kingpin.
I ended up in a kimono of course. Sigh. Of all the fabulous fashions available from the far east and I ended up dressed like a geisha in an old B movie kung fu flick. Oh well, at least it allowed me to conceal my weapons and gear.
Fang’s was clearly affronted at having to don a makeshift collar and leash made from a black silk sash and a thin patent leather belt, but he went along with it, if grumpily. I thought he’d look cool with a pair of shades of his own, but the mental image I sent him was immediately met with an audible growl and a sense of open bleeding wounds were I to attempt any such things.
We also managed to find a large duffel that was big enough to carry the MP5’s that Marcus and Deacon were carrying, as well as my gladius. The guys also had to put their vests in there in order to blend in. All in all the bag that Deacon picked up as if it were weightless weighed a good fifty pounds as we headed for the door. Mo Ping, as we’d learned was his full name waved at us calmly as we paid for our clothes and headed out the door.
I took the lead once more. We headed down the street in the direction of where we’d lost the trail. Fortunately the street seemed to parallel the old tunnel. Fangs was at my side, sniffing the ground and air for any sign of Trish’s scent.
People seemed to barely notice our garishly outfitted troupe as we walked slowly to the end of the block. The New Yorker’s ever present “been there, done that, attitude was in full force. We crossed the street to the next block before Fangs’ head perked up and he began walking with more purpose towards the high rise on the corner. Sniffing at the corner briefly, Fangs headed hesitantly towards the back of the building, as if the scent was almost non existent. About halfway down the sid
e of the building, he stopped and looked around. Eventually he just stopped and looked up at the towering edifice before us and meowed mournfully.
“Either he’s lost her, or she’s in there somewhere.” I said, looking back at the others.
“Let’s go around to the front and look at the building directory.” Said Deacon, gesturing back the way we’d come. “Maybe it will give us a clue.”
We walked back around the building and stood for a moment, scrutinizing the directory, attached to the side of the wall outside the large set of doors leading into the lobby. The usual list of lawyers, accounting firms and various other enterprises that were unidentifiable by just their name, greeted us as we perused the list. Finally I tapped on one name in particular. “Neuri Biotech.” I said consideringly. “Manhattan seems to be a funny place for a biotech firm.”
Marcus’ face drew down into a frown as he considered something. “Weren’t the Neuri a tribe of supposed lycans that were supposed to have lived somewhere in the Ukraine?” He asked, looking at Sara.
“They are a tribe of lycans.” She said “They live up near the border of Ukraine and Belarus. Some of their descendants have made their home up around the Great Lakes.
“That seems like a bit of a coincidence.” Marcus said with an expression quickly becoming troubled.
“Let’s keep walking.” Muttered Deacon from behind them. “We are starting to draw attention from those inside.”
Looking out of the corner of my eye, I could see the receptionist across the lobby, looking at us in mild curiosity. “Let’s find a place where we blend in a bit better and I’ll make a call.” Continued Deacon, leading the way back across the street and deeper into Chinatown.
We found a table at a small sidewalk cafe and Sara ordered tea in what I was assuming to be mandarin, while Deacon called into Viktor. The waiter came back with a tray containing a small pot and four tiny mugs before bowing and returning inside. Sara poured for all of us, her movements precise, almost ritualistic. Raising the cup to her nose, she inhaled deeply. “I miss China occasionally.” She said with a sigh.
“You lived in China?” I said with a start. “I thought you spent your whole life out west.”
“My dear girl,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t learn to use a sword from any Native American tribe.”
I stared at her, completely nonplussed for a moment. “I guess I never considered that before. “Your staff seems to fit so perfectly into your persona that I didn’t even think about the long piece of steel concealed inside it.” I said after a moment.
“That little bit of incongruity and the surprise it causes, has aided me in more than one fight.” She said, her grin becoming a bit wicked.
“Well, you’re just full of surprises.” I replied, sitting back to take a sip from my steaming mug.
“Very well, I will be in contact later.” Said Deacon before clicking off his phone. “Viktor is running down the ownership of the building, as well as that of the biotech firm. He will let us know when he has something concrete.”
“We need to keep surveillance on the place. Both up here and down below.” Growled Marcus. “As much as I want to just barge in and search the place top to bottom, I know that’ll just get Trish killed.”
“I agree.” Replied Deacon in his rumbling baritone. “If we see any vampire activity, we can be assured that at least we have something to investigate further, while we wait for more information from Viktor.”
We decided to head back to Mo Ping’s shop before splitting up. We decided to split the task between Lycans and Vampires. Granted, Sara was a bit of both and neither of both, but she represented the Lycans, so that counted. Since she was also able to walk around outside without the encumbrance of a disguise, It was decided that she and Marcus would remain above ground and watch the building from the outside.
We said our goodbyes and Deacon and I retreated through Mo Ping’s storage area to the dingy room at the back. We quickly donned our tactical gear once more, my vest and sword going back into place. Deacon opened the creaky hatch in the floor and quickly descended back into darkness.
I looked down at Fangs, silently considering how best to get him down, when he walked over to the hatch and simply jumped down through the hole in the floor. I mentally slapped myself in the forehead. “Duh, the giant mutant house cat could probably handle a fifteen foot drop without much effort.” I chided myself before stepping onto the ladder.
My watch said 4:35 in the afternoon as we settled into a partially caved in maintenance tunnel across the tracks from the hatch we’d found earlier. That left us a couple hours, at least, before we could expect to see any vampire activity, at least from the normal, non daywalking variety, that is.
We sat quietly for a long time. I tried not to keep looking at my watch, as that always seemed to make the time move slower. After all it wasn’t the first time I had waited silently in the dark for my prey to come by.
The aforementioned silence was broken instead by Deacon. “You and Marcus seem to be getting...closer.” He whispered tentatively.
I was a bit surprised by his opening attempt at conversation, wondering where he was trying to go with this. “I like Marcus.” I whispered back. “We’ve become good friends.”
Marcus sat quietly for a moment, considering his words, perhaps. “I sometimes think that Marcus would like to be more than simply your friend.”
“Drat men and them wanting to know where they stood with you!” I thought heatedly to myself. I had been trying not to think about my relationships with Marcus and Deacon both over the last few days since I’d used my blood to heal Marcus. I knew things had changed between us, but I just didn’t know how that was going to play out. “In addition,” I chided myself. “You haven’t exactly told Deacon about the changes caused by that little gift of blood you gave Marcus, now have you?”
I sighed softly into the darkness. “On the other hand,” I thought. “You and Deacon are partners. You work together now. Doesn’t that kind of preclude a romantic relationship?” Stupid brain, thinking all logical and stuff. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what Deacon was getting at.
“It’s complicated.” I whispered into the dark. “The blood I gave him to save his life may have had an effect on him.”
“What kind of affect?” He asked, shifting in place a little.
“We don’t know for sure” I replied. “Sara says that the spell she used is very similar to the spell she used on Fangs when he was hurt. She’s never used that spell on a lycan before, especially not in conjunction with a vampire, so she’s unsure how Marcus will be affected.”
“So, he is like another familiar?” he said.
The silence stretched out as I tried to think how best to put it. “There’s...a connection between us that wasn’t there before. I was able to communicate with him while he was in his wolf form, back when Aiden Gray attacked us at the estate.” I said haltingly. “Other than that, I really don’t know what the fallout will be.”
The silence continued to stretch out between us and the tension ratcheted up to the point where I thought I might scream. “What are you really asking Deacon?” I asked softly, a combination of concern and annoyance in my tone.
“I just…” He began softly. He didn’t have a chance to finish however, as what we assumed was a hatch, started descending, showing us that it was, in fact, the floor of a very small elevator. It’s movement was accompanied by the soft whir of an electric motor. I wanted to run over and punch whoever was coming down for interrupting us, but I controlled myself. It was really hard though.
Two vampires, a man and a woman, were standing on the two by four foot platform, surrounded by a waist high security railing. They were dressed to party. The man was dressed in a dove grey Armani suit and black dress shoes. A black silk shirt, set off nicely with a blood red tie and kerchief sticking precisely on quarter of an inch out of his breast pocket.
The girl was also dressed to the nines. A black satin bit of nothin
g hugged every curve dangerously down to her hips, where two pieces of cloth at the front and back pretended to be a skirt. As her companion took her hand as she stepped from the platform, revealing her entire shapely leg to excellent advantage.
When the girl was safely down from the platform, the guy re-affixed the small gate in the railing before walking over and casually placing his hand on the wall of the tunnel. My eyes widened as the elevator started to immediately rise back up into the ceiling. “Hot damn!” I thought excitedly. “We found our way in.”
The vamp couple then meandered arm in arm off down the tunnel, talking and giggling softly. I breathed a sigh of relief as they finally moved off out of sight down the tunnel.
5
After a few minutes of quiet discussion, we decided that Deacon should go back up through Mo Ping’s in order to contact Sara and Marcus. Deacon was getting ready to argue about who should stay behind, but I quietly pointed out that I really didn’t want to lug Fangs up a ladder if I didn’t absolutely need to. I also added in that he needed to get in touch with Viktor, so we had a better idea of what we were up against. “Besides,” I added at the end. “Hiding in shadows is what I do best.”