Black Market Blood (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 2)

by Cas Martin

  Then her body moved.

  The one on her left was already further up the truck than the other. As he climbed, hand over hand using the strap as a rope, there was only a small moment when both hands were holding on at the same time. Elizabeth knew her best chance was to swipe at him in that small window, before his free hand blocked her blows or, worse, retaliated and pulled her down. If she was thrown into the crowd, then her chances of survival were slim.

  Seconds ticked in time with her heartbeat as she dropped to one knee and ploughed the other foot into his face. She mistimed the follow through, and felt his hand scrabble for purchase as she pulled her leg back up. Fear clutched at her throat and she swung her blade, a neat slice across his forearm. A superficial wound, but enough to make him let go. His body lurched back and he grabbed at the strap with both hands to steady himself. Elizabeth slammed the blade into the side of his neck.

  She jerked it back up and out as the spray of warm blood arced through the air. Her face was damp with it and the handle of the blade was slick in her palm. Her fist gripped around it as she pulled and it came free before he fell backwards into the crowd below.

  Hands landed on her shoulders and then she was thrown back. She thought Garth called her name but couldn’t be sure. The only thing in her mind was to hold onto the knife and to protect her neck as the second man loomed over her. In her determination to finish off the first, he had made it to the top of the truck.

  Even as she was afraid, she knew he was a fool. To make it up here was to be within inches of freedom. Instead of doing the sensible thing, he had chosen not to run, but instead to fight. To try to kill her. She wouldn’t give him a second chance.

  She reached up with her free hand and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him towards her rather than pushing him away. At the same moment, she curled her legs, her stomach muscles out of practice. Crunches had never been her favourite exercise, but as he tumbled off balance, his face connected with her knees. The pain was excruciating, but the crunch of cartilage as his nose broke gave her the smug sense of satisfaction that he suffered as much as she did.

  He lashed out in response, his fist connecting with her side. The unexpected pain made her cry out and she let go of her grip on his shoulders. He rolled off and she struggled to sit up.

  This was why she had walked away, she thought. You could only take so many punches from ham-fisted vampires before you got sick of it.

  It was hard to ignore the pain in her side as she forced herself up, but there was no other choice. He was already moving towards her again and if she remained on her back, he would have a physical advantage that no amount of fighting skill would be able to overcome. She squeezed the handle of the blade tight in her fist and lurched towards him. He saw it coming and defended himself. She landed a glancing blow but nothing more. He swung with his other fist and missed as she pulled back. His teeth bared, he snarled and staggered to his knees, ready for another attack. She feigned a thrust to his neck and he raised his hand to defend himself again. In a movement that her body remembered from years before, she changed course mid-air, instead plunging the knife into the top of his thigh.

  He yowled in pain as the artery severed. The blade got caught in his jeans as she tried to pull it free and she lost her grip on it. She fell backwards as she lost it, landing on her back as her head hung over the side of the truck. Her mind cycled through every fight, every moment of weakness and she’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed before that moment, not even when she had found herself closer to death. She heaved herself towards him as he clutched his leg, blood bubbling from the wound as he tried in vain to hold it closed. The stain spread across his jeans, dark maroon against the light blue material. She swung a punch at his broken nose again for good measure then pulled her blade free.

  Within seconds, he began to bleed dry, the curse of his kind when it came to drawing blood. What they took from others could be taken from them so easily in return. His face turned ashen grey and she knew he would not stand again.

  Elizabeth watched impassively as the bodyguard, having dispatched the escapee of his own, picked up the dying man and pushed him off the edge of the truck to join the others.

  The numbers in front of her were thinning. With a second to breathe, she scanned frantically for Monica, and saw her still fighting with another man to subdue the leader of the Sekhmets. Next to her Dennis fought a woman with bright pink hair, her fists flying fast enough to be a blur as she gave him hell. Even from this distance she saw the surprise on her face as he hit the deck, the back of his head bouncing off the concrete. Elizabeth was frozen as she watched the girl move in for the kill. She wanted to call to him, warn him, but there was nothing she could do.

  The woman punched him three times in the face. Then, with a quick glance over her shoulder she stood up and backed away. Within seconds she was back amongst the crowd, pushing to the far wall away from the heart of the action. Why hadn’t she gone in for the kill shot? It made no sense to Elizabeth.

  Dennis sat up and his body swayed for a few seconds. Elizabeth watched as he shook his head, as if to dispel some fog in his brain. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to be okay.

  Monica, on the other hand, didn’t look so sure. It was too close to land a proper punch and even when she did, it was nothing compared to the damage she received. Elizabeth watched in horror as the true leader of the Sekhmets threw his head back. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as he slammed it forward a direct contact blow with Monica’s own. Her hands let go of his torn suit and she fell in a slow arc, landing flat on her back. Her right arm curved round in the seconds before she hit the ground and Elizabeth knew she was reaching for Dennis. If this was to be her last moment, she wanted to be with him.

  Dennis reached for her too, their hands connecting as he placed something in hers. As her target moved in for the kill, she held her arm straight and fired.

  Elizabeth felt the vibration of the gunshot in the second after his head jerked back.

  In the confusion of bodies, silence fell.

  She saw Garth’s eyes widen and swallowed nervously. Vampires never sank low enough to kill each other with guns. A taboo act for even the lowly, but a scandal for the leader of any family. Monica must have learned something from Jack LeTraub’s more human approach after all.

  Then she saw her hand the gun back to Dennis and knew, with absolute certainty, that the two of them had done it before.

  63

  Monica stood up and surveyed the damage. The remaining Sekhmets were on their knees, hands behind their heads. Once they had seen their leader fall, they knew it was only a matter of time before they would too. Instead, they had dropped to their knees and Monica was proud to see her family members end their attack. Continuing to fight someone who had already surrendered was bad form, but it was easy to lash out in the heat of the moment.

  The Sekhmets belonged to her now. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Around twenty had survived. A low number, but still enough to cause trouble if they had the chance.

  Her victory, now their true leader was gone, had global implications. She hadn’t asked for any of this, had wanted nothing more than peace, but now she would spend months dealing with the consequences.

  Dennis slumped against the wall behind her. He had taken a beating, but he would recover. Tonight, however, she couldn’t trust him to retain his better judgement. The fight had been quick and dirty, but they were out of time. News of a riot would spread quickly.

  Elizabeth climbed down the side of the lorries, using the ties to help. At the bottom, she climbed over a pile of bodies. They’d had a height advantage and those who had tried to escape had put themselves directly into her line of fire. If they had expected her or Garth to be weak or timid, they had paid for that misjudgement. He’d done his bit too and hesitated only a moment before he followed Elizabeth to the ground. Monica smiled as everyone watched them walk through the mayhem and over to her. Most of her own family had never
seen the two of them in action, but Elizabeth’s reputation alone struck a note of fear amongst the crowd.

  ‘Nice touch,’ Monica gestured at the truck.

  ‘Erm, I may have to borrow some money to get it fixed back up. Garth borrowed it from a friend.’ Elizabeth looked sheepish.

  ‘A friend who is now going to kill me,’ he added.

  ‘I’ll get you the money for repairs. Hell, I’ll get a whole new truck if that’s what he wants. The two of you changed everything.’

  ‘I was still surprised at how many tried to get out,’ nodded Elizabeth, looking back at the pile of bodies on the floor.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s been a while, that’s all. What about you?’ Elizabeth’s voice was filled with concern. Monica knew she hadn’t come out of it unscathed, but she wouldn’t show it. Not with all eyes on this interaction.

  ‘I’m a little bruised and broken, but no worse than I’ve ever been before. I’ll feed and be fine.’

  ‘I think I’ve broken one of my fingers but that hardly counts in comparison to that.’ She pointed her twisted finger at the Sekhmet leader’s body.

  ‘We need to get this mess cleared up before Sunrise.’ Monica spoke louder this time and people sprang to attention. She and Elizabeth watched as they began to collect the dead and carry them inside. ‘And I need to decide what to do with them,’ she nodded in the direction of the remaining Sekhmets.

  ‘What are your options?’

  ‘The usual three. Kill them, take over them or set them free.’

  ‘All fairly radical. Current preference?’

  ‘I don’t want to take them over. They’re not like us enough to be absorbed into the family. We don’t share the same values and beliefs to make that work. I would never trust them. Which means I can only take them in as slaves.’

  ‘I’m guessing by the look on your face you don’t want to do that either?’

  ‘It doesn’t sit well with me.’

  ‘So you’re left with killing them or setting them free.’

  ‘Both of which have quite serious implications.’

  ‘I never said it was going to be an easy decision.’

  ‘If I set them free they have no grounds to seek revenge. But that doesn’t mean they won’t.’

  ‘They can’t in the short term though, right? There aren’t enough of them left?’

  ‘Not over here. But their family back home? It’s old and powerful.’

  ‘And now leaderless. If you can’t trust them, then perhaps you have to kill them.’

  ‘Don’t you think there has been enough bloodshed already this evening?’

  ‘I do. But it’s not me who has to make this decision. Or live with it. That’s you.’

  ‘What would you do if you were me?’ Monica was aware she was discussing options with a human in front of everyone. Dennis might be used to seeing it, but they certainly weren’t. It might lose some of the respect she’d worked hard to win, or the survivors might embrace this new world in a way the council refused to do. It didn’t matter. Elizabeth knew strategies, more than anyone else there did. If they didn’t like it then she was sure she would find out about it soon enough.

  ‘I’d set them free. With conditions. The family will be in turmoil when they know their leader left to claim America and came back dead. You know for yourself how the leadership process turns a family on its head for a while. Besides, if you kill them all then there will be no messengers to take the warning back home.’

  ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘Any that stay rightfully belong to you. You don’t have to welcome them into your family, but at the first sign of army building or retribution, you retain the right to kill them.’

  ‘Sounds simple.’

  ‘You and I both know nothing is ever simple. Good luck.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll leave you in peace now.’ Elizabeth looked at the bodies surrounding her. Monica watched her walk away.

  ‘Don’t forget to put the truck in for repair and have the bill sent to me,’ she called after them. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  Countless pairs of eyes followed Elizabeth as she made her way back to the truck. If she felt scared, she didn’t show it. Neither did Garth. The scent of fear was absent. They had become masters of their own emotions around her kind. Tonight, it had served them well.

  Monica checked her watch. There wasn’t much time to do everything she needed to do before sunrise. ‘Bring them all to me,’ she ordered, authority in her voice. She hated this part so much. She knew why Elizabeth had chosen to walk away now. Despite all the talk and sensible conversation, this was not going to be a clean finale.

  Only twenty of them left. She shouldn’t have any pity for them, but she did. It was never a good thing to lose so many of your family. She still had to face the losses of her own. Once the practicalities were complete, the time of mourning could begin.

  Once the survivors had been shoved back onto their knees in front of her, she cleared her throat. ‘You all belong to me now. You came to my house and challenged me, and you were not victorious. In defeat, your family passes to my family. All of it, if I so choose. Do you understand?’

  Most nodded their heads. A few remained defiant. They might leave her with no choice. It was the strongest who had survived. Her eyes fell on a scrappy woman who stared straight ahead. She’d given Dennis a run for his money. ‘I relinquish you to return to your homeland, on condition that there will be no attempt at retribution. If you choose to stay, I will be watching you. Eyes will be on you twenty-four hours a day. If I even suspect you will attack my family again, then I will order the demise of your family in its entirety. Do I make myself clear?’

  Again, a series of nods. Some of them had overheard the conversation with Elizabeth. They knew what was coming.

  ‘Good. We will take your dead inside with our own. You can collect them tomorrow, when there is more time. When a new leader is chosen, make sure they get this message. Make sure they know I mean business.’

  Monica stepped forwards and swallowed. This was the part that would give her nightmares for weeks. The part that Elizabeth understood, but didn’t want to witness. It felt gratuitous, but it served a purpose in its own right.

  She grabbed the hair of the man kneeling in front of her and pulled his head back. He knew better than to fight her. She saw the fear in his eyes. He knew that he was to be the messenger.

  Monica tried not to show any weakness. No hesitation, no tremor in her hands. She let her mind retreat to somewhere else, somewhere warm and safe where she would need to go to forget this in a few hours time. ‘In case your new leader does not believe me, then you can show him this.’ Monica reached into her pocket and pulled out her blade. The existing blood had already begun to crust. She dug the tip deep into the man’s throat and sliced the knife across. His blood spurted all over her and she let it run. Finally the line of men on their knees showed the appropriate level of fear in their eyes. For this act, more than any other, they would take her seriously.

  When she was confident he was dead and the only thing holding him upright was the grip she maintained on his hair, she let go and watched as the dead weight fell forwards.

  ‘Go. Mourn. But I mean it. This ends here. If it doesn’t, I won’t hesitate before doing that again.’

  Monica put the blade back in her pocket and turned around, ready to head back inside. She scanned the eyes of her own family as she did so. She saw fear in there too. She wasn’t sure yet whether that was a good thing.

  Over the next few days, she would know for sure.

  64

  Elizabeth had been under no illusions when Monica had invited her over for dinner that evening. The chances of the other woman cooking after the past few days were negligible. Instead, they decided take a break from their established routine of Chinese takeout and wine to substitute with pizza and beer. Once Elizabeth mentioned she was yet to have any piz
za during her time in New York, the choice was clear. Monica had promised to provide some of the city’s finest if she turned up at seven-thirty.

  It was an informal goodbye. With her things packed and a return flight to England the following day, there were things that needed to be said before she left. On both sides.

  As she stepped out of the elevator at the penthouse, the guard looked up. She nodded and he smiled back. It was a new mark of familiarity and respect. She thought she liked it. Maybe she would even miss it when she was gone.

  ‘Come in.’ Monica opened the door and held it for Elizabeth to enter. ‘I’ve just finished with my work emails. Remind me never to take time off again. How are you?’

  ‘Better than I have been for a long time. When do you go back?’

  ‘Officially not until next week, but I needed the work to distract myself from everything else. The official mourning period is for another two days. Hence the pizza rather than a nice restaurant. All packed?’

  ‘Mostly. There’ll be plenty of time for the rest before check out tomorrow.’

  ‘I can send you a car to take you to the airport if you want?’ Monica had made the offer before, but each time Elizabeth declined. It was enough that she was paying for the flight home.

  ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’ Elizabeth shrugged out of her coat and sat down on the couch. She had no idea when she would be back in this room again. ‘So, what do you have planned for my last evening?’

  ‘I did promise the best pizza in the city, even if I do say so myself.’

  ‘Do I detect a touch of bias?’

  ‘Maybe a little. One of my guys. His son does most of the cooking now, but the old man brought his recipe with him from back home. It’s completely different to any pizzas you can get around here. It’s perfect.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful.’

  ‘And I’ve got us a couple of beers to go with it. I know it’s not a high end send off but I thought it would be good if we could talk.’