Dark Vengeance Part 2

by Reinke, Sara

  “Help me,” Lina snapped at Peaches as she reached for Augustus, pawing at his sleeve. Hooking her fingers against his arm, she dragged him toward her. He was still unconscious and dead-weight heavy. Peaches grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt and the two of them hauled him closer to the shelter of the sofa.

  Lina could see a trail of blood on the floor from where they’d dragged him, and more blood streaked in his hair. The frame of the coffee table was wrought iron; he’d struck the back of his head against it when he’d fallen.

  “Augustus,” she whispered, cradling his face between her hands, trying to shield him from falling glass and debris with her body as she leaned over him. “Please wake up.” Choking on gun smoke, grit, and tears, she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. Augustus, goddammit, we’re in trouble. I really need you right now!

  Over the rapid fire of the six AR-15s aimed in her general direction, Lina became aware of another sound, one that grew steadily louder and louder until the furious roar drowned out the gunshots altogether—motorcycle engines, revved to screeching, deafening decibels. More than a dozen spears of bright, pale light suddenly pierced through the windows circling the terrace, and then Duke Parker, his daughter Taya, Siervo Ruiz and the remaining members of Valien’s corillo came crashing through the enormous panes, bursting in from the landscaped yard outside, sending more glass flying in all directions.

  Peaches screamed again but the sound was swallowed by the buzz-saw crescendo of the motorcycle engines and the piercing shrieks as tire treads skidded and squalled for purchase on the slick floor tiles. Armed with sawed-off shotguns, high-caliber pistols and automatic rifles, the corillo didn’t even wait until their bikes had skidded to complete stops before opening fire on Tejano and his crew.

  Lina felt Augustus catch her by the hand, and jumped in surprise. You’re awake! she exclaimed, unable to surpress a grin as she turned to look down at him. Without waiting for him to reply, she uttered a little cry of relief and fell against him in an embrace. Oh, thank God, Augustus, you’re alright!

  That’s probably…a matter of…opinion, he replied, but when she drew back, he smiled weakly. What happened?

  My brother tried to kill you, she said. Then Tejano tried to kill us both. At the moment, Valien’s corillo is trying to kill Tejano.

  With Lina’s help, Augustus sat up and grimaced. Taking note of the flying bullets, he heeded her advice to keep his head down and glanced between her and Peaches. “I should’ve let you bring a gun,” he shouted to Lina.

  “You think?” Lina yelled back. At that moment, one of Tejano’s guards flipped over the back of the couch, somersaulting ass over elbows and landing in a sprawled heap less than a foot away from them. He lay face-down and motionless; judging by the puddle of blood that began to rapidly spread from beneath him, he’d been dead before he hit the floor. His AR-15 was nowhere in sight, but an enormous pistol lay near his outstretched hand—a ridiculous-looking, gold-plated 9 millimeter with pearl inlays on the grip.

  Augustus and Lina both caught sight of it at the same time. He held out his hand, and as if on an invisible line, the gun lifted off the ground, then flew toward him. Offering it to her, he said, “Will this work?”

  Lina took the gun in hand, ejecting the magazine to check the number of rounds left. It wasn’t her first choice in weapons, but then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Slapping it back home again, she nodded. “It’ll do.”

  Augustus nodded once. “Good,” he said. Then his eyes rolled skyward and he drooped sideways, crumpling against Peaches, who abruptly started screaming again.

  “He’s dead,” she wailed. “Oh my God, get him off me! He’s dead!”

  “No, he’s not,” Lina said, having scrambled forward in bright new alarm when he’d fallen. Laying him back against the floor, she pressed her fingertips lightly against the slope of his neck. “He’s just out again. It was too much too soon after hitting his head, using his telekinesis.”

  “His what?” Peaches cried, shaking her head. Yelling to be heard over the gunshots, she added, “I don’t speak Spanish!”

  As she swept her frightened gaze wildly past Lina’s shoulder, something grabbed her attention and she scuttled back, pressing herself against the ruined upholstery of the couch in obvious alarm. Lina swung around to look behind her.

  “You…motherfucking…bitch!” Tejano seethed as he staggered around the edge of the sofas. “I’ll fucking…kill you!”

  He bled from far too many glass cuts to count, his face and torso riddled with lacerations, his robe blood-stained and tattered now. He held an AR-15 clasped at the ready between his hands and leveled the muzzle at Lina.

  Oh, shit, she thought, scrambling backwards even though she knew it was pointless—there wasn’t anything between them she could use for shelter and nothing she could get between them to protect herself, not in the split-second it would take for him to pull the trigger.

  Tejano cut Augustus a glance and grinned, his teeth blood-smeared. “Both of you,” he said. “Lying ass…motherfuckers…think you can come up in here and punk me! Chingate! Vete a la verga culero!”

  Lina watched as he folded his finger inward against the automatic rifle’s trigger in what seemed like extreme slow motion. All of the noise in the room seemed to have abruptly silenced, and there was nothing in that moment except for the soft click as the trigger fully retracted. As the gun discharged—set to fully automatic fire and releasing a sudden stream of bullets—she cowered, hunkering down to press herself against Augustus’s chest in her absolute terror. He must have roused somewhat, because she felt him draw his arm around her shoulders. Clutching at him, she clamped her eyes shut and waited for the pain, the moment of impact as the rounds ripped into her, shredding her to pieces, pulverizing muscle, tissue, sinew, and bones.

  Oh, God, she thought, unable to scream, unable to breathe. Oh, God, please…please, no!

  And then what felt like the leading edge of a massive wave swept over, then through her, a tsunami without water, the air rippling out in a tremendous, powerful surge. She felt her inner ears pop as if adjusting to the sudden changes in pressure of an airplane in flight and she gasped, because she’d felt these things clearly—but no bullets hitting her. Opening her eyes and lifting her head, she blinked in bewilderment.

  The air between her and Tejano seemed to ripple and shimmer, like the turbulent surface of a disturbed body of water. Caught in this undulating yet invisible plane, she could see small, dark pinpoints, dozens of them, bobbing and nodding.

  Bullets, she realized. Those are the rounds Tejano shot at us.

  Augustus had managed to sit up. His eyes were open, his brows crimped so deeply, even from her vantage, it took her a moment to realize his pupils had enlarged from the bloodlust again. He kept his left arm around Lina, but held his right hand outstretched, his fingers splayed wide, as if commanding the very air in front of him to draw to a halt.

  Jesus Christ! she thought in stunned disbelief. He stopped the bullets!

  Tejano must not have realized this at first, however, because his face twisted with rage, growing flushed and slick with sweat. “Te voy a matar!” he screamed, firing again, wildly swinging the gun back and forth. I’m going to kill you!

  “Augustus—!” Lina cried, shrinking against his shoulder again.

  He uttered a low, breathless grunt, as if from exertion, and she felt his arm around her tighten. As she watched, the bullets flew directly at them, but like the ones before them, abruptly stopped, suspended in midair. This time, Cervantes realized he hadn’t missed; there hadn’t been a malfunction of some sort with the gun. He saw Augustus’s extended hand, his bloodlust-engorged pupils, and the enormity of the psionic energy he projected must have finally seeped through Tejano’s thick skull to register in his brain.

  His eyes widened and he stumbled back, all of the color draining from his face, leaving him ashen. “Qué chingados…?” he whispered, lowering the rifle in confused shoc
k. What the fuck…? “How…how did you…?”

  “I’ve been around for awhile, motherfucker,” Augustus told him, his voice low and menacing, nearly a growl. And as he closed his fingers into a tight, sudden fist, the rippling effect in the air vanished. All of the bullets clattered to the ground, falling like rain to land among the broken fragments of glass and scattered fruit. In Lina’s mind, she heard him say, He’s yours, ma chéri.

  It was all of the invitation she needed. Her brows narrowing, she raised the gold pistol, leveling the muzzle at Tejano’s face. Before he could even think to raise his own gun again, she squeezed the trigger, feeling the gilded stock buck powerfully against her palm.

  She hit him right above the bridge of his nose. The round must have been hollow-point, because there was no exit wound, no backsplash of bone and brain matter. Instead, the bullet shredded his brain as it ricocheted violently inside of his skull, and his eyes rolled back as he pitched sideways, crashing to the floor.

  “Nice shot,” Augustus said.

  “Told you I was good.” Lina turned to him and grinned, but the smile faltered on her lips when she realized he was pale—too pale. With a low sigh, he tipped his head back, his eyelids fluttering closed. His hand, still extended, drooped heavily to the floor beside him.

  “Augustus,” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake. “Don’t do this to me, not again. Wake up!”

  “I’m…alright,” he murmured, without opening his eyes. “Mon Dieu, I’m just…really getting too old…for this shit.”

  * * *

  Within moments it was over. Tejano had apparently only brought a light contingency of guards with him from Miami, and while the six who had been posted as sentries around the terrace had quickly been joined by at least that many more during the course of the firefight, in the end, Valien’s corillo had still outnumbered—and ultimately outgunned—them. As the dust and debris began to settle, Lina heard Taya crying out.

  “Jackie!”

  Even though Jackson couldn’t hear her, he hadn’t missed her grand entrance—on what looked like his bright blue motorcycle to boot. Bloody, battered, and half-dazed, he managed to sit up as she ran to him, crashing into his arms with a loud sob. “I’m alright,” he told her. “It’s all good, baby girl. It’s all good.”

  “Where’s Valien?” Duke asked. Lina had to admit, as big and burly as some of Tejano’s goons had appeared, Duke Parker made them all look like pussies. He stomped through the wreckage of Tejano’s once-luxurious living room like Godzilla through the streets of Tokyo, a deep-set scowl on his face and his mouth matching the grim downturn of his mustache.

  Jackson was already on his feet and rushing to his friend’s side, with Taya hurrying after him. As Jackie fell to his knees next to Valien, he uttered a strangled, anguished sound, and Lina could see tears gleaming in his eyes.

  “Is…is he…?” Taya asked, her voice little more than a hush.

  Jackie looked up at her, his face twisted with helpless despair. “He’s still alive,” he said, his hands moving unconsciously, falling in tandem with his spoken words in the gestures and signs that he knew by rote. “He’s still breathing, but he…he…!”

  One by one, the corillo members gathered around their fallen leader in a close-knit, grieving huddle.

  “Goddamn it,” Duke said, choked and hoarse.

  “Lina.” Augustus caught her by the hand. He still sat slumped against the couch base, his head tilted back, as if too weak and exhausted to move. But he’d opened his eyes and looked gravely at her now, his brows crimped slightly. “My pocket…in the suit coat.”

  “What?” Puzzled, she shook her head. “I don’t…”

  “The suit coat pocket,” he murmured, his eyes closing again. “Inner pocket…”

  He meant his suit coat, the one she’d thrown on. Drawing back the lapel, she looked down the front panel, along the inner lining, and saw the flap of a small pocket. She dipped her hand inside and pulled out what he’d hidden there—a small terra cotta vial.

  “The first blood,” she gasped, eyes widening.

  Augustus nodded once. “Give it…to the boy. Make him drink it.”

  Lina stared at the bottle in her hand. She thought of all of the things that blood could be used for—her mother’s cancer, her grandfather’s dementia, her brother’s deafness. Then she blinked at Augustus in stricken dismay.

  Eleanor, she said, realizing at last that maybe Lamar Davenant hadn’t been the only one who had been desperate to get their hands on that vial. You want this. You’ve wanted it all along—for Eleanor. It would cure her.

  He closed his eyes, his brows lifted as if he felt pain, his lips pressed together in a thin line. It is not mine to take any more than Lamar’s, he whispered. It never has been.

  Cradling her hand lightly between his own, he folded her fingers in toward her palm, around the vial of first blood. It belongs to Valien, ma chéri, he said. Give it to him.

  Lina nodded, but in that moment, her heart broke for him. She didn’t hate him for any ulterior motives he might have had, because she’d shared them. The first blood was too great a temptation not to.

  She stood, drawing his coat around her slender frame more securely. When she approached the group gathered around Valien, she hunched her shoulders, feeling out of place among them. Jackie looked up as she eased her way through the crowd. His cheeks glistened with tears, his broad shoulders shuddering.

  Valien lay with his head in Taya’s lap, and she hiccupped against sobs as she stroked his dark hair. He was still alive, but only barely from the looks of things. The front of his shirt was blood-soaked. Tejano’s bullet must have hit his lung, because Lina could hear a high-pitched, wheezing sound, even though Jackie had clapped one of his large hands over the entry wound in a failed attempt to stave both blood flow and air loss. Blood peppered out of Valien’s mouth with every ragged, labored gasp for breath; it dribbled in thin rivulets from his nostrils. His eyes were open, but glassy and dazed.

  “Brandon…” he croaked as Lina knelt beside her brother. “He…he’s not…” His voice dissolved into strained coughs that left him writhing in pain, choking on blood.

  “Hush now,” Taya soothed as her bottom lip trembled and more tears spilled. “Don’t try to talk, Valien.”

  His brows furrowed and he grabbed Lina by the hand, his grip surprisingly forceful. “Brandon’s not…here,” he gasped. “Check…the house…make sure of it. But I…I can’t…I can’t…”

  “He can’t sense him,” Jackie said to Lina, who found herself absurdly touched that, despite his own injury and pain, Valien somehow seemed more concerned about Brandon than himself. “He’s tried since we came here, but he…he hasn’t…”

  “We’ll find him,” she promised Valien, trying to smile. “I have something that can help you. Something that belongs to you.” Opening her hand, she held up the small clay jar so he could see it. “It was inside the wayob statue. Do you know what it is?”

  He shook his head, wheezing for feeble breath.

  “It’s more precious than gold,” she breathed, slipping her fingernail beneath the edge of the tightly sealed stone cap and wiggling it loose. Her eyes stung with sudden tears and her throat seemed to close in on itself. Borrowing the words Augustus had offered her, she said, “It’s the blood of the wayob, the first blood, and it’s what made your species what you are.” She smiled again, less forced this time. “It will heal you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The corillo made as thorough a sweep of Tejano’s home as they could before the police arrived, but there was no sign of Brandon.

  “Where is he, you chickenshit son of a bitch?” Jackie demanded, seizing one of Tejano’s guards by the throat and shoving him into the nearest wall. Even though the guard was a Nahual, as evidenced by the black, featureless plains of his eyes and the gnashing of his elongated canine teeth, Jackie still pinned him easily. “What did your pendejo boss do with Brandon?”


  “He doesn’t know,” Valien said from behind Jackson. He sat on the floor, his legs outstretched, looking pale and exhausted—but alive. The first blood hadn’t healed him, not yet, but it had brought him back from the brink of death. With a frown, Valien swept his dark gaze among the five surviving members of Tejano’s gang—three Nahual and the two strippers, Peaches and Mercedes. “None of them do. They don’t even know who he is.”

  “They have to know,” Jackie insisted. “Tejano took him. Who the hell else could’ve?”

  Lina didn’t have to even glance at Augustus to know they were thinking of the same thing—the security camera image of the man moving in and out of Téo’s ICU room. Why the hell she hadn’t thought of it before—the similarities to the one they’d seen on Valien’s security recordings from the garage of the shadowy figure who’d attacked Brandon—was beyond her.

  Julien Davenant.

  “I hate to sound like a nagging old lady,” Duke said grimly. “But we need to get Valien out of here. The cops are going to be crawling all over this place like flies on a shit pile any minute.” With a quick glance at Lina, he added, “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Lina replied mildly because he was right. Already she could hear the faint sounds of approaching sirens through the broken windows lining the room.

  Augustus stood beside her and she didn’t miss the way Jackie not-so-subtly scrutinized their proximity to one another. He hadn’t said a word to Lina since she’d given Valien the first blood, and nothing at all to Augustus. To his credit, he hadn’t tried to beat the shit out of Augustus again, so someone—probably Taya—had clearly explained that Augustus had helped to rescue him. But that didn’t dispel the look of dark suspicion and disapproval in his eyes—especially when Augustus slipped his arm around her waist.

  “You should sit, ma chéri,” he said. “You’re still weak from blood loss.”