The Complete Protected by the Damned Series

by Michael Todd

  “I think that with everyone’s help, we could have this whole facility—or whatever is left of it—moved in a couple days’ time.” Stephanie looked up at him. “Three, tops.”

  “We could spend one day moving this main building floor by floor, and then one day getting anything salvageable out of the extra buildings.” Korbin considered the layout of the buildings. “Yeah, I don’t think it will take too long, and everyone is ready to get out of this mess. I think living in a dust bowl is starting to get to them. When they train they get covered in dust, and when they go to bed they have to wipe everything off again. It’s kind of a pain in the ass, that’s for damn sure.”

  Stephanie laughed. “I know, remember? I live here now.”

  “Yeah.” Korbin chuckled. “I forget sometimes.”

  As if, he chided himself.

  “Anyway, I think I could get the girls to come help. Do some painting, get things looking nice the way we did here,” Stephanie continued. “I can get construction crews to start ventilating the shafts underneath, and clearing out any debris we can’t use. That will give us a clean slate to work with. There is nothing worse than getting it all cleaned up and having piles of shit lying around. Get it all hauled off before anything secret comes in there and we can’t let the crews on the base.”

  “That’s smart,” he admitted. “I want our new place to be treated like a top-secret military installation, because…well, that’s really what it is. It’s a place to keep everything under control; under lock and key. I want to figure out some way to camouflage it from the sky even better, if it needs it. I don’t want people coming in and out without proper clearance. We have to get serious about this. We saw what happened when we treated this place like a normal house. We were attacked in our own damned yard. It could have been disastrous, and in some ways, it was. In other ways, it made me realize what I need to be doing; what this place is missing. It has become too relaxed.”

  “I agree with you on that,” she told him. “I loved the feeling of family, but we didn’t treat it like there was any danger.”

  “Absolutely,” Korbin replied. “When we lost that edge, that deep-seated fear that we all have, we got careless. Carelessness caused Jeremy to get killed. I think this team has seen enough death in the time they’ve been here to last them the rest of their lives. I’d like a good long streak where I don’t have to worry about funerals, memorials, and grief. I just want to move forward into a new and stronger day with a fresh start, and I think this move is what might do it. If we all work together, we can get what we need out of the base and start building what we want. There definitely hasn’t been a lack of business or payments recently.”

  “Very true,” Stephanie agreed, folding up the blueprints. “Well, I can get some construction companies over to the site and meet with them as soon as now.”

  Korbin put up a hand. “Hold off just a little bit longer.” He nodded toward their kitchen. “The team leaders are still here, and I don’t want to leave them on their own. There is too much going on, and too many slip-ups could occur. When they are gone—and I mean the moment they board their plane—I will be out of here too. We all will. We will jump right into getting the place set up and ready to move into. It’s been a hard road—and there is still a lot to contend with—but at least we know that we will soon have a strong, reliable home to come back to. We will be able to work more efficiently, and we will be able to do better at tracking and running the current calls we get. It just takes time.”

  “That it does.” Stephanie smiled. “Anyway, you have some people to entertain, and a nap is calling my name. Come and get me when they are gone. I want to show you around the base, and get some contractors out for you to talk to.”

  “I will.” Korbin grinned at her. “And one day I’ll actually try that resting thing, too.”

  Ella Hamilton was that girl—that New York City twenty-year-old still living with her parents.

  Her long hair was wildly streaked pink and purple, her makeup was dark and crazy no matter what time of day it was, and her attitude matched all of the above. She was a wild child, and had been her whole life.

  Her parents weren’t home ninety percent of the time, and the other ten they drove her absolutely fucking batshit crazy.

  She was teetering on the edge of no future, walking the edge of a homeless, jobless, or perhaps addicted life—and she didn’t give two shits about it.

  The craziest part of it all was that Ella was extremely smart; possibly genius-level, she had been told. But all she wanted to do was drink, smoke, and party as much as she possibly could.

  “Yeah, right. Whatever, Mom,” she yelled over her shoulder, tramping down the sidewalk in her combat boots, torn jeans, and military jacket. “Fucking parents!” she huffed, disgusted.

  She threw her Starbucks shirt and hat in her bag as she walked to the cab. She was annoyed by her mother; someone she felt she barely knew, someone who drove her fucking nuts on a regular basis. She wasn’t a momma’s girl, and she barely ever spoke to her father. She just wanted them to leave her the hell alone.

  “My life can’t possibly get any fucking worse,” she grumbled as she climbed into the cab.

  She was never early to work. In fact she was usually lucky to even show up, but she somehow managed to not get fired.

  Her awakening with her mother, though, had been so insane that she was actually leaving early for work that day.

  She had been happily asleep—passed out, to be exact—from the party she had been to the night before, but at the butt-crack of dawn her mother went on one of her rampages, waking her up and bitching about every little thing.

  She had told her parental unit the same thing she always did; that she couldn’t be a mother only when she wanted to, that she had given that right up a long time before, but of course that didn’t fly. It never did.

  Her mother had been tipped over the edge by it, and it just went on and on until Ella grabbed her shit and headed out the door.

  Ella gave the cabbie her work address and sat in the back looking out the window.

  She had always known she would go down that path; she had made it a point to do so. She was fucking smart and she knew she had control, but when her parents started going nuts and life just got to be too much, she had buried herself in the underground. She lost her pain in drugs and alcohol, danced until her feet couldn’t move anymore, and fell into the arms of whatever hottie was crushing on her that night.

  Self-respect wasn’t the name of her game, nor was respect.

  She was upfront about it, and she wasn’t worried what others thought. She didn’t give a flying fuck, and that was just how it was. There was no fucking way she was going to bend to the demands of her society or her parents, who didn’t do anything but bitch and push her further down the partying rabbit hole.

  When the taxi pulled up in front of the coffee shop, she paid the driver in crumpled bills and got out, walking nonchalantly in the door.

  The place was always packed, but so was everything else in New York. That was why she loved it there; there were always so many people. She could get lost in the crowds, and no one ever cared who the hell she was or what her story was. She put on her apron and tied her hair back before walking behind the counter and clocking in at the register.

  “Wow!” Her supervisor looked at the non-existent watch on her wrist and back at Ella. “One minute early. I never thought I would see the day you got to work on time.”

  Ella gave her a fake smile and waited for her boss to turn back around. When she did she gave her the bird, mocking her expression with her own.

  She hated that bitch. She was always so perfect, so innocent; so on-point with everything in life. She hadn’t liked Ella even before she knew she was a slacker. She didn’t dress the right way for her, her hair was never perfect enough, her makeup was never trendy enough, and Ella’s personality sure as hell wasn’t saccharine enough for that girl.

  Her supervisor had tried to get he
r fired several times, but the manager wouldn’t let it happen. He was a friend of her mother’s somehow, and had promised to keep her on no matter what.

  So she was always scheduled as an extra, just in case she didn’t show up for a shift.

  Ella took a deep breath and asked the person standing at the register what she could get for them.

  She put the order into the computer and sent it back, taking the payment and offering a very fake and obviously sarcastic thank you to the woman. When the next girl stepped up Ella paused, noticing strange red rings in her eyes. At first they almost mesmerized her, but then she was slightly freaked out.

  “Welcome to Starbucks,” she said in a monotone. “May I take your order?”

  “I’ll have a Venti Chai over ice, five pumps, soy milk, with a dollop of whipped cream on top.” The girl sounded almost like a robot herself. “Not too much whipped cream; just enough to sweeten the drink a little bit,” she finished.

  Ella watched the girl talk, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

  She shook the thought from her head and put the drink order in the computer, thankful she didn’t have to make that one. She hated it when complicated orders came in, though she almost felt like this girl might rip your throat out—literally—if the dollop of whipped cream was too big or too small.

  “I’d also like a piece of crumb cake,” she added.

  “Okaaay, that is a Venti Chai latte, iced, five pumps, soy milk, and a not too big yet not too small dollop of whipped cream,” Ella repeated slowly. “And crumb cake.”

  The girl nodded.

  “That will be eleven-nineteen,” Ella replied.

  Ella pulled the crumb cake from the shelf, sliding it into one of the wax-coated brown baggies they served all their baked goods in. She waited for the girl to complete the signature on the keypad, then handed her the cake.

  “Oh, what name do you want on this?” Ella asked.

  “Bridgett,” she answered as she walked away.

  “Okay.” Ella pursed her lips. “R-for-robot dot Bridgett it is.”

  She handed the cup to another barista and turned back to the register, more irritated than she had been before for some reason.

  She was usually the one people thought was weird, but Ella knew there were some serious freaks in her city. She didn’t know what Bridgett’s story was, but she wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark club—that was for damn sure.

  She could feel the irritation rising as she took the next order, the stereotypical white midlife-crisis mom standing at the counter wearing tennis clothes when she knew damn well she didn’t play tennis.

  She turned quickly to pass the cup, and caught a whiff of herself.

  Damn, I’m going to have to shower. What a pain in the ass!

  Chapter 6

  Damian whistled. One hand was in his pocket, and his other arm was around Katie’s waist. She had done her hair and makeup, and they pranced down the block. It was all part of the plan; she had to get the robbers to think that she had no clue what was going on. As they passed in front of the cops, the loud speaker crackled and the captain’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Please halt!” he called right before they hit the doors. “Do not go into the bank! We repeat, do not go into the bank. There is an active shooter inside.” There was a pause before he turned, bullhorn still active, “Can they hear me, or are they just idiots?” he asked, and a few onlookers snickered in the crowd.

  Damian and Katie acted like they didn’t hear the police officer and walked straight into the large brick building, talking and smiling at one another.

  Katie noticed the people on the ground, but acted oblivious, as did Damian.

  She made a comment about her clothes and laughed loudly, ignoring the fact that her voice carried through the strange silence of the bank, and Damian chattered back. Katie actually found the whole thing to be amusing.

  “Hey,” one of the robbers called, but Katie and Damian ignored him. “HEY! Shut the fuck up, you two!”

  “Huh? Oh!” Katie stopped and looking around in surprise. “Oh my goodness, are we in a MOVIE?” she squealed.

  She clapped her hands and giggled excitedly.

  “No, you stupid Valley Girl,” the guy snarled, starting toward her and waving his pistol. “This is fucking real life, you dumb-assed bitch. Now get on the floor.”

  Wait, what the fuck is a Valley Girl? Pandora asked.

  It’s a really rich, really dumb girl who grows up in privilege and has no idea about life, Katie replied, looking at the hooded men with big eyes.

  Oh, HELLLL no, Pandora growled. He did not just call me a dumb-ass blonde. This dude is going to fucking get it.

  Wait for it, Katie told her. You will have your moment.

  Damian looked around like he was completely confused, swatting at one of the guys when he pushed Damian down onto one knee.

  He looked up at the main guy, who was walking quickly toward Katie. She had a look of innocence on her face that forced him to smirk. He tilted his head down to avoid being seen smiling. Katie watched the man as he approached, tilting her head to the side like a Valley Girl would.

  “Oh my Gawd, is that a gun?” she asked. She noted that Damian was trying not to laugh.

  “That’s right, dumb-ass,” the robber growled, raising the butt to hit her in the head.

  “Oh no, Mr. Robber, please don’t,” she called as he cocked his hand back.

  He was shocked when her arm darted up to catch the gun as he swung downward.

  She has a snarl on her lips and the ring in her eyes flashed red as she lifted her head and looked the guy right in the eyes. His grimace smoothed and he looked at her strangely when he felt the strength in her arm as she pushed his hand back.

  “Now, that wasn’t very nice,” she hissed, shaking her head. The last word came out in a deep growl.

  Katie grabbed the guy by his throat and lifted him into the air.

  His feet were dangling, and he kicked as his hands grabbed hers, trying to unlock her grip.

  Her eyes were completely red as she stared up at him.

  “You,” he wheezed, “are a crazy bitch!” His eyes bugged out in terror as Pandora laughed wildly inside Katie. She threw him hard, and he slammed into the wall and fell in a heap to the floor.

  She turned and found Damian fighting one of the other robbers, punching him right in the face. She smiled and looked at a third perp, who had raised his gun to shoot Damian and was waiting for an opening. She threw one of the knives from her belt, and the blade turned end over end before sinking deep into his bicep. He screamed in pain, dropping the gun to the floor and grabbing his arm as he knelt.

  She looked back just as Damian kicked the robber’s feet out from under him, sending him spiraling to the floor. He grabbed a metal divider post from beside the wooden island in the middle of the bank floor and swung it over his head, hitting the guy hard and obliterating his consciousness.

  Breathing heavily, he dropped the pole and walked over to the one who was writhing over the knife in his arm. Katie walked over too and looked at Damian.

  “Hold on just one second,” she said, reaching down and yanking the knife out.

  “FUUCK!” the robber screamed and brought his arm to his chest, almost crying. “You stupid fucking bitch!”

  “It’s not very nice to talk about a man’s wife in that manner,” Damian told him in a conversational tone before turning to Katie. “Honey, would you like to do the honors?”

  “Oh, please, be my guest.” She smirked.

  Damian cold-cocked the guy, watching as his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the ground. Quickly they pulled the three perps into a pile in the middle of the floor. Katie raised her dress to reveal her tactical belt, pants, and walkie-talkie as Damian used a belt to slow the perp’s bleeding.

  “Be advised, all three suspects are down,” Katie said into the walkie-talkie. “We will be sending the hostages out.”

  Katie p
ointed to Damian, to the hostages, and to the door, then ran over and got people to their feet.

  Quickly she ushered them toward the entrance, looking out into the street before opening the doors and sending them out one by one. The police ran forward, accepting the hostages and pulling them to safety.

  “We are making sure they are safe,” the captain said. “Good work in there, you two.”

  Katie smiled at Damian and tossed him the walkie-talkie, then ran to the back to see if she could find the downed cop. She found him back near the vault, leaning against a wall with a t-shirt wrapped tightly around his arm. He had lost a lot of blood, but the wound didn’t look life-threatening.

  “Who are you?” he moaned.

  She leaned closer, so she could speak without the civilians overhearing. “Part of the D Squad.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispered back, staring at her. “Why? This wasn’t demon-related.”

  “Just in the right place at the right time, I suppose.” She smiled.

  There were two people taking care of him. She nodded, and they leaned down and helped him to his feet. Slowly they walked him forward, stopping in front of Katie when he did.

  “Thank you,” he told her earnestly. “You saved a lot of people’s lives.”

  Katie just smiled. She waited until he had disappeared through the door to nod. She felt good about helping those people; about getting them to safety.

  He was hot, Pandora offered. Even with a hole in his arm.

  Not now. Katie turned back.

  Katie walked back to Damian, who nodded toward the back door. There was no reason to go back out there and talk to the cops. They had finished their job. Katie went out first, almost skipping again, and Damian laughed as he followed her.

  I think I deserve some donuts, Pandora announced.

  I thought you gave donuts up? Katie asked.

  I did, for two whole horribly insane days, she griped in exasperation. I deserve an extra box for self-control beyond normal expectations.

  All right. Katie chuckled. I’ve got just the place.