by Lianne Burwell
Carpe Noctem Book Three
But people who've experienced true darkness knew that these
people were fooling themselves. Darkness was more than just an
absence of light—and none of those conditions people called
darkness were ever truly without light. Darkness was a taste, a
touch, a sound. Darkness wrapped you up in bonds that would never
be fully released.
Darkness was all around, as heavy as a wool blanket, as all
encompassing as despair. The only sound was water, trickling at
first, then slowly growing in speed, a strangely malignant sound.
And the smell was overwhelming, of rot and decay and things long
dead. The feel underhand was of dirt and slime and concrete. The
air was closing in, squeezing badly needed breath away, even
though breath wasn't necessary.
And underlying it all was the overwhelming fear. Fear of what was
ahead. Fear of what was behind. And most of all, fear of him.
In the end, it was the fear that forced reluctant feet to keep
moving, pressing forward, until the tight walls suddenly
disappeared, resulting in a bone-jarring drop into fetid water.
And now a choice: Which way to go? Which way to safety? Was there
even any safety to be found?
And behind, the sound of footsteps and voice calling, both mocking
and angry.
No time to hesitate. Pick a direction and go.
Mac woke, thrashing in an attempt to get away from the bindings
holding him in place. They didn't give, and he panicked. Suddenly
he could feel the pressure of god only knew how many feet of soil
pressing down on top of him, slowly crushing him alive, and no one
was going to find him, no one was going to save him. He was going
to die there, over and over again, no matter what he did.
"Mac. Mac!"
The voice calling him was familiar, and he latched onto it like a
life line. Bit by bit, the panic receded. The bindings holding him
turned out to be only bed sheets. And the darkness was not
complete. The hall light was one, spilling a cheery pool of light
into the bedroom.
Vic was untangling him, as quickly as possible. As soon as the
sheet was gone, Mac ran for the bathroom. He hunched over the
toilet, dry heaving, but nothing came up. He shivered.
"Mac, are you all right?" Vic asked, carefully touching his
shoulder.
Mac rubbed his eyes, then stood up. His stomach didn't seem quite
so eager to tie itself into tiny knots anymore. "Not really, but I
will be," he answered honestly. For the moment, food was
definitely out, but a shower sounded like a really good idea. He
stepped into the stall and turned the water on warm. A moment
later, Vic quickly stripped and followed him.
Mac stood, eyes shut, under the spray, trying to let go of the
tension left over from his dream. After a moment, He felt a soapy
sponge go to work on his back, and sighed. There was nothing
teasing in the touch, no attempt to seduce, just a firm scrubbing
motion. He let his head hang forward and just enjoyed. Even better
than a massage, he thought.
"Ready to talk about it?" Vic said when he finished, setting the
sponge on a shelf. Mac grabbed it and turned around to return the
favor.
"Not much to tell," he said, concentrating on his task. If he
concentrated on this, he might be able to wipe away the dream's
immediacy. "Cramped darkness, with the sound of water and the most
god-awful smell. And with the sheet wrapped tight around me, for a
moment I was..." He stopped, not willing to put into words what
he'd been feeling.
Vic winced, and didn't press. He was a pretty savvy guy: he'd
probably figured out what Mac hadn't said. "Was it just a
nightmare?" he asked, turning so that Mac could scrub his back.
The graceful line of his spine drew Mac touch, and he traced it
from Vic's neck down to the valley between the cheeks of his
perfect ass, making the man shiver, before returning to the task
of cleaning.
"I don't know," he finally said. "It's a little confused. But
other than the end, it wasn't my memories." That seemed like a
pretty good dance around the subject to him. "Certainly the smell
certainly wasn't a memory. I've smelled some pretty rank things in
my life, but that took the cake."
Vic reached for him, and Mac dropped the sponge in favor of
wrapping himself around the man. They didn't have time for this,
but the little bit of comfort was just what he needed. Then they
turned off the water, dried quickly and dressed. Mac heated
breakfast for them while Vic called the Agency to find out if
there's been any news during the day. He listened for a minute,
then hung up and took the mug that Mac held out to him. "Nothing,"
he said with a frown.
Mac sighed. "Well, in this case maybe no news is good news. No
news means no body." He shuddered at the thought of Jackie in an
alley, mutilated like the others. Jackie drove him up the wall at
times, but he'd actually gotten to like her since she'd joined the
Agency, especially after he and LiAnn had nearly come to blows
over Vic's change. He still could hear LiAnn crying that Vic would
have been better off dead, and that it was all his fault that
Vic was like that. The words had hurt like hell, and he'd wondered
if she'd been thinking of restarting her relationship with the ex-
cop. He hadn't liked that idea much at all. Jackie, on the other
hand, had reassured him that he'd done the right thing, and that
LiAnn was just being an idiot.
Now, between Jackie being missing, and LiAnn missing even longer,
he was about ready to go nuts, and his only real idea had been a
spectacular flop, since his dream wasn't exactly something that
they could use as a map to find their missing partners.
Mac quickly inhaled some blood to replace missing energy, rinsed
his mug, and put it away. Vic was still standing next to the phone
still, a frown on his face. Mac fidgeted for a moment, then
sighed. "So, you got any ideas? 'Cause I'm fresh out," Mac said.
He was itching to get moving, his instincts demanding action, but
without a plan, they would just be going in circles.
Vic grimaced. "Not really. Well, maybe one, but..." He stopped.
"Well, what is it?" Mac asked, resisting the urge to role his
eyes.
"That thing." He pointed at Mac, and Mac looked down, just
realizing that he was still wearying the pendant. The leather was
still damp against his neck.
"It didn't work before," he pointed out.
"Maybe. But did it not work because of it, or because both you and
Jackie were asleep?"
Mac blinked at that. "I never considered that," he said slowly.
"And when I dreamed of Kata, it didn't really match what
eventually happened. It was more of a symbolic thing."
"And you wanted to try it this morning, but the sun came up before
we could do anything but get home. So, why not try it now?"
Mac was still a little dubious. "I still don't know how make it
work. That's why I wanted to go to Sophia's place; to get her help
with it."
Vic's expression darkened a little at that. "I called that in,
asked the tech geeks to do some checking, since you overslept
sunset by a bit. The address we went to has been officially vacant
for nearly seven years. The previous owners died, and the heirs
never moved in and never tried to sell the place. They're going to
do some more checking, though. I don't suppose Sofia ever gave a
last name?" Mac shrugged. "I didn't think so."
"Then should we even risk it?" Mac asked worriedly. "I mean, this
makes me wonder just what she was doing here, so can we trust what
she did to it?" His hand came up to touch the metal, then
flinched. He couldn't picture giving Vic's gift up for any reason,
but suddenly it made him nervous.
Vic looked like he was chewing the inside of his cheek. "You said
it was giving you dreams long before Sofia even came along," he
finally said.
Mac considered the idea, then nodded. "It's not like we have a lot
of choice in the matter anyway," he said with a shrug. "The only
problem is, how?"
"I haven't clue," Vic said, a small, rueful smile making his lips
twitch. "I was hoping you did."
Mac thought about it for a minute. "Okay. I'll need the living
room, and no distractions, so turn off the phones."
Vic moved to do that, while Mac headed into the bathroom for his
meditation supplies: natural candles and some incense imported
from China that made him think of home.
He drew the heavy drapes in the living room and turned off the
lights, then set out the candles on top of the coffee table. He
lit them, and a stick of incense, then sat down on the sofa cross-
legged. A little soft music might have helped, but he didn't want
to take the time to go hunting through their music collection—
which didn't include much mood music—for something appropriate.
He started out with deep breathing, drawing in a breath through
his nostrils, holding it deep inside him, then releasing it out
through his mouth. It might seem a little silly, since he could
get by without breathing, but it was traditional, and it helped to
relax him. He shut his eyes so that the only light he saw was the
red glow of the candle flames through his eyelids and dropped
deeper into relaxation, reaching for that half-conscious, floating
feeling. He pictured himself sinking into the sea, the waters
growing darker around him as he sank, until all light was gone and
the darkness wrapped around him like a comforting embrace,
completely unlike his dream.
As the darkness became complete, he became aware of a point of
heat, pressed against his chest, just below the collarbone, and
recognized it as the pendant. He turned his attention to it, and
wrapped his mental self around the piece of carved metal. He
pictured the dips and curves of the surface ornamentation and
followed them, until it was perfectly clear in his mind.
Then, he thought of Jackie, picturing her as she'd been when he'd
seen her last: The clothing she'd been wearing, the way her hair
had been styled, the expression on her face.
Immediately, the image shifted. The blouse was ripped, and blood
smeared her forehead. She was covered in dirt and ash, and
cursing. She was pushing her way through a narrow tunnel, and the
smell, the slimy feel, and the sound of water, all of it the same
as his dream, was back.
Jackie kept moving as fast as the dark tunnel would let her. She
hadn't got far before the sun had risen high enough to force her
to sleep, even if she was far out of the light's reach. She'd
managed to force herself awake well before sunset, moving on. She
tried not to think of just what she'd been sleeping in.
The tiny passageway had connected with the storm sewers—she
could see light from above through the occasional drain—and
she'd been surprised to find that she could walk almost completely
upright: she'd never realized just how large the sewer system
under the city was, or how much there was. The drains above her
were out of reach, other than a few that had turned out to be
bolted shut, and the number of side tunnels had been dizzying.
Considering the fact that she didn't have a clue where she was,
she could easily end up wandering the tunnels for days. Thankfully
there'd been so little rain for the last while that the sewers
were almost dry.
Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to keep wandering blindly. Even
though she had a head start that probably came to a couple hours,
Sanji was out there, and she had the sinking feeling that he
probably knew these tunnels better than she did. All she could do
was keep moving and pray that she found an exit, somewhere, so
that she could call for help.
"Little night-walker, you can run, but you can't hide."
Jackie hissed at the sound of Sanji's voice coming from all around
her. It had bounced through tunnels until she couldn't tell what
direction it was coming from. It seemed like it was coming from a
great distance, and also from right behind her.
Jackie pushed away from the wall smeared with who-knew-what and
started moving again. Sooner or later, she was going to find an
exit, she just prayed that it was before Sanji found her.
Vic watched Mac, doing his best not to fidget. Just a year ago it
would have been impossible, but the training he'd had from the
Gangrel in town had helped. Hunting prey required periods of
waiting perfectly still. He just tapped into that training while
he waited for Mac to wake up again.
While he waited, he engaged in one of his pastimes: Mac watching.
If it weren't for the urgency of the current situation, this could
almost be considered romantic. The candlelight gave everything a
warm glow, especially Mac's skin, softening all edges. Mac's
still-wet hair glittered in the flicker, like it had been dusted
with diamond dust. With his eyes shut and his expression relaxed,
Mac looked the picture of perfect serenity, like a Buddhist monk.
Completely unlike his waking attitude.
Vic stifled a snort. He was getting soft if he was starting to
think of Mac in poetic terms. Of course, he wasn't going to tell
Mac about it. He'd tried once with LiAnn, but all it had inspired
in her was a fit of giggles, and he wasn't about to risk that
again. He just wasn't cut out for the romantic shit, he guessed.
His cellphone vibrated against his hip, and he got up as quietly
as possible and headed for the bedroom where he wouldn't disturb
the other man, although Mac seemed pretty deep in his trance and
didn't even stir as Vic left.
With the door shut carefully behind him, he answered the still
vibrating phone.
"Hello, Vic."
Vic blinked. He should have been surprised, but somehow he wasn't.
"Hello, LiAnn," he said in a remarkably calm voice.
"What's new?"
"Oh, not much. A serial killer is running around our city,
pretending to be you, killing people you've slept with, leaving a
dead cop outside of the Agency. Oh yeah, and right now, he's got
Jackie. What's new with you?" His voice had risen during the
recital, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten. It helped.
Slightly.
"Oh, a great deal, but I don't think we need to go into that right
now, do you?"
"And why not?" Vic asked, leaning against the wall, one hand
holding the phone to his ear and the other arm wrapped around his
ribs. His eyes were focused on the wall opposite where a print
hung. The image was a delicate watercolor of an early
archaeological dig in Egypt that Mac had brought home and hung one
day. When Vic had asked about it—it wasn't exactly what he
thought of as the man's style—Mac had made a comment about it
being a reminder. Vic had just shrugged and decided that he liked
it, so it could stay. Two days later, the Director has given them
a gift-wrapped package that held two sets of fine cotton sheets in
shades of ivory and a chocolate brown duvet that went perfectly
with the print. He'd promptly spent two hours hunting for cameras
and removing them.
"Because finding Jackie before she ends up dead too is more
important, don't you think?"
LiAnn had often sounded slightly superior when talking to him
about work, but she'd never been so obvious about it. Vic bristled
at the implied criticism. "Well then, why don't you help us. Tell
me about this Sanji person."
"What makes you think I know anything about him?" The arch tone
told him that he didn't need to worry about that being the case.
"Well, if you don't know him, he certainly seems to know you. He's
been stalking you across this country."
"Are you sure? Maybe it's the other way around."
Vic's teeth were grinding together now. "I don't have time for
games, LiAnn. If you aren't going to do anything but play little
mind-fuck games, then I suggest you go someplace else." Before she
could reply, he hit the 'end' button, terminating the call.
The phone started vibrating again almost immediately. He ignored
it for a few seconds before answering. "Yes?"
"The one you call Sanji is a demon."
"LiAnn..."
"Be quiet and listen. He is a Raksha, one of the servants of
Ravana, one of the lords of hell. He is a shape-changer." She
paused.
"I'm listening," Vic prompted. He wasn't sure about demons from
hell, but the shape-changer part went along with what they already
knew, so he was going to try to keep an open mind.
"He traveled to the Middle Kingdom—this world—on his
master's business. He killed someone very important, and I was
sent to destroy him for his crimes. At first I was tracking him,
but he realized a lot faster than I expected. He turned the tables
and started hunting me instead. He nearly caught and killed me in
Bangkok. I escaped, but I couldn't lose him."
Vic could see where this was going. "So you led him here."
"I needed allies."
"If you needed our help, why didn't you call? Jackie saw you
months ago. Why keep hiding while Sanji picked off the people you
had... contact with, one by one."
"I've changed. You've changed. When I got here, I realized that
Mac had changed to. I wasn't sure I could trust you."
"What changed your mind?"
Even over the phone, he could hear her soft sigh. "He's closing
in," she said. "He's already left me a message, one written in
blood, telling me that he has Jackie. She's not dead yet, but she
will be soon."
"Unless?" Vic prompted.
"There is no unless. He's going to kill her. Then he's going to
end the game and kill me. At least, that's what the jist of the
message was."
Vic closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. "Do you know where
he has her?"
"No. But he feeds on blood and violence. As well, the realm he
comes from is a charred remnant of what it used to be. His kind
have been known to find lairs that remind them of... home."
Vic made a mental note of that. "We need to talk, LiAnn. Face to
face."
"Not going to happen." The hard tone of her voice told him that
she wasn't going to budge on that.
"Isn't it difficult to be allies from a distance? Never mind. Just
tell me then: What do you plan on doing?"
It was blunt, but then she was just as blunt back. "Find him. Kill
him. Take his head home."
"And if anyone gets in the way?"
"They better not."
Vic closed his eyes. "What happened to you in China, LiAnn? Why
haven't you contacted us?"
Her laugh chilled him to the bone, but gave him one hell of a
boner at the same time. "The Director was right, I needed to see
my parents, and deal with some issues. I dealt with them."
Somehow, he knew better than to ask for a clarification, and he
wondered just what had happened to the woman he'd been engaged to.
Despite their dangerous lifestyle, she'd usually been sweet, maybe
even a touch naïve at times. There didn't seem to be much of her
left in the woman he was talking to at the moment. Was it even
her? "You're not coming back, are you?" he asked, wondering if he
even wanted her to.
"No. I've found my place. The only thing I need to do to keep it
is bring the Raksha's head back with me. Vic, if you're smart, you
and Mac will stay out of my way."
"No can do. He's got Jackie, and we're going to find her. And
LiAnn, if you do anything to jeopardize that, then you're the
one who should stay out of our way. Understood?"
The laughter this time was almost the LiAnn he remembered. "Good
luck, then. You're going to need it. But watch your back. This
Raksha is no fool. He'll be waiting for you." The phone went dead.
A moment later, it seemed to heat up in his hand, and Vic tossed
it away as it burst into flames. It was just like Jackie had
described with her phone, and creepy as hell. Certainly, there was
no way anyone could have planted any sort of incendiary device in
it, since it hadn't been out of his possession in days.
The flames disappeared almost immediately, before he could even
think of running for the fire extinguisher, leaving only a scorch
mark on the wall and carpet, and the melted remains of the phone.
He crouched down and nudged the lump, but nothing happened. It was
just plastic and circuit boards.
"Vic? What the hell happened?" Vic looked up to find Mac standing
over him, a worried expression on his face.
Vic stood, brushing a bit of soot off his hands as he did. "A call
from LiAnn that blew up my cell."
"LiAnn? Is she okay?" Mac's eyes were wide.
Vic's first instinct was to say yes, but he held back. "I... don't
know. She said she 'dealt' with her issues, but the way she said
it... I just don't know."
"Did she say anything else?" His tone was almost pleading, and Vic
fought off a flash of jealousy. He'd never really been able to
forget that Mac-and-LiAnn had existed long before Vic-and-LiAnn or
Vic-and-Mac. Their life together with the Tangs in Hong Kong gave
them a connection that he would never be able to compete with.
Vic frowned. "She called Sanji a Rashka or Raksha or something.
Some sort of demon. He's a shapeshifter—not really news—and
he reports to a lord of hell, if you can believe that. She also
said he sent her a note written in blood to tell her that he's got
Jackie and that he will kill her. Did you find anything out with
your... you know?"
Mac's expression was strained, and he looked tired. "She isn't in
Sanji's hands right now, but he's hunting her. She's in wet
tunnels that smell, and every so often there's a grill over her
head, but she can't get out. Whatever the tunnels are, she can't
get out, and he's coming." He shook his head. "Of course, I can't
tell for sure that what I saw is real. It could just be my
subconscious running away from me."
Vic worried at his lower lip for a moment. "Yes or no, Mac. Do you
think it was real?" Mac opened his mouth, then shut it again.
"Your gut feeling," Vic prompted.
Mac expression tightened, then he nodded decisively. "It was
real." Then he sighed. "Of course, I couldn't tell you where it
was."
"Wet tunnels that smell, with grills above. Could you hear
traffic?"
Mac tilted his head to the side. "I think so. Faint, though.
Coming through the tunnels, not the grill."
"Okay." Vic leaned sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his
chin on a fist, thinking it through. "Sounds like sewers or
something like that. The traffic being faint implies that it's not
near any busy streets. And LiAnn said that this Sanji would
probably look for something that reminded him of home, and that
home is a burnt wreck." He reached for his cell-phone, then
remembered that it had been destroyed. He twisted around and
grabbed the cordless phone off the bedside table, then dialed a
number from memory.
The phone rang three times, then picked up. "He... Hello?"
"Nathan? It's Vic. I need some information."
"V--Vic? I don't know..."
"No time, Nathan. I need to know anyplace in town that has severe
fire damage, low traffic, and possible access to the city's sewer
system and I need to know now. Jackie's life is counting on it.
How fast can you get me the information?"
"Ah, actually I can think of one location that might be what
you're looking for," Nathan said, his normal stutter fading as he
dealt with the one thing he loved: Information. He'd also steadied
up a lot since Dobrinsky had taken him under his wing, so to
speak, even if he still was obsessed with conspiracy theories of
the weirdest sort. "There's an old neighborhood near the warehouse
distract, mostly flop-houses and boarded up houses these days.
There was a fire last year that they think was arson, although I
have my suspicions, and most of the buildings were damaged, if not
completely gutted. It's on the old sewer system, too, so the
buildings drain pipes go straight to the old storm sewers."
Vic blinked in surprise at the quick answer, then smiled. "Nathan,
I owe you one. Can you give me an address?"
Nathan rattled off an address that was for an area of town that
Vic remembered well from his days as a beat cop just after
graduating from the academy. "Do you think it was lava beasts?"
Nathan asked eagerly, and Vic had to fight back a laugh.
"Sorry, Nathan. But we're heading there to find Jackie and the
hell demon that kidnapped her." He hung up while Nathan was still
spluttering out questions.
Mac was staring at him with a wary expression on his face. "Do you
really believe it was a demon from hell?" he asked.
Vic shrugged. "That's what LiAnn said. Ready to go?"
"You think this address is going to be any help?"
He shrugged again. His neck was aching, and the muscles in his
back were tense. "I don't know, but right now, it's the only
possibility we've got, and it's better than sitting around here."
"Point taken," Mac said, heading for the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Magic was new to LiAnn, but
she'd taken to it quickly. Once she would have dismissed it as fantasy,
just like she would have ignored the existence of vampires and demons,
but in the last year she'd had to grow up a lot. She was no longer the
woman she'd been, in more ways than one. San Francisco had shattered
many of her illusions about the world she lived in, and her return home
to China had shattered the rest.
Illusions. She used to think
she had none. She'd tried to avoid them since the day a man had knocked
on the door of the one-room home she'd grown up in and handed her father
what she now knew was a pitiful amount of money. She'd cried for her
mother as the stranger dragged her away, but her parents had stood in
the doorway, dry-eyed, watching her go. Her last sight of home had been
of her mother turning around and going back inside while her father
counted the bills in his hand.
And yet now she realized
just how many illusions she'd clung to despite that. Look at how long
she'd ignored Michael's madness. Look at how she'd convinced herself
that she and Vic could settle down and raise a family, complete with the
home with a white-picket fence. And look at how she'd managed to avoid
seeing the other world that surrounded her.
No more. Now she experienced
the world with all her senses. She lived life to its fullest.
Amazing how losing her life
had been just what she needed to start living again.
She shook her head,
chuckling to herself. What had the Director expected when she sent her
to China? 'You have issues that start with your parents. You need to
deal with those issues,' the woman had told her. Damned bitch. Did she
think that her parents were going to welcome her back with open arms,
and everything would be perfect? Oh no. The Tseis had reported their
daughter killed by one of the wild animals in the woods near their
remote village, and had gotten permission from the government for a
second child, the son they'd so desperately wanted. To have their
daughter show up proved them liars and frauds. They could have gone to
prison, which was nowhere near as pleasant as in Canada or the United
States. Her mother would have been sterilized, her father would have
been sent to the work camps.
No, having their daughter
reappear was their worst nightmare made flesh, and they'd moved quickly
to get rid of the nightmare. Oh, the shock on their faces, though, the
second time she'd knocked on their door. Oh, the screams and hysteria.
After all, they'd killed her with a machete, then taken her out to the
edge of the jungle and left her for the animals. She never should have
come back.
LiAnn smirked to herself.
They hadn't been as lucky.
It hadn't taken her long to find the area of town where Sanji had
been living. His kind might be dangerous—look how easily he had
seduced then killed Mika—but they could also be very predictable. The
burnt skeletons of townhouses that had once been pleasant middle-class
homes back at the turn of the century jabbed skyward in silent
accusation. She didn't spare them any thought. Their lives had been
bought with the deaths of many trees, screaming in agony as metal saws
severed their links to the earth. Death bought death, in her books.
No, the building remains
were of no interest to her. Instead she closed her eyes and held her
arms out, spinning first slowly, then with greater speed in the middle
of the street. If anyone had been around to see, their eyes would have
probably bugged out with shock at the sight of a nearly naked barefoot
woman whirling like a dervish, ignoring the debris strewn around her.
Then she slowed, and finally
stopped, a wide grin on her face. Oh, yes. The smell of the Raksha was
heavy in this place. The smell of sulfur and brimstone overwhelmed the
faded soot and ashes of the fires that had destroyed the neighborhood.
The death agonies of the people—homeless squatters—who had died in
those fires were still fresh, available to those with the will and the
desire to harness them, like Sanji. She ignored them.
The stench was strongest
from one building, though. This one was partially intact, the only one
with any part of its roof left, so it didn't surprise her much. Stepping
over the garbage and debris, she entered the house.
Yes, this was its lair. The
place stank of death and despair. Her lips drew back into a sneer as she
began to search the ruin for her prey.
Tonight, it ended.
Pausing to rest for a moment, Jackie had the sinking feeling that
she was going in circles. Every single intersection seemed identical to
the last one, and the sounds of traffic never seemed to get any louder.
Every choice seemed worse than the last. And there was never an exit.
Just tantalizing promises of grates overhead, always just out of reach
or so tightly welded that they couldn't be opened. And she'd never
mastered the ability to walk through dirt. The night was half-gone, and
she was in deep trouble.
She could still hear Sanji
following her, too far away to hear what he was saying, but close enough
to recognize the mocking tone in his voice. And yet he never seemed to
get any closer. She'd finally realized just what was happening: This was
a setup. He'd planned for her to try to escape. Now she was in his
territory, and he was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse. The
only reason he hadn't found her yet was he wasn't tired of the game yet.
But eventually he would
get tired, and when that happened... Well, she wasn't sure what would
happen next, but she had the feeling that she wasn't going to like it.
But people were looking for
her. Vic had been trying to call her when Sanji grabbed her. He had to
know she was missing. And if he knew, then the Agency was hunting for
her. She held onto that thought, even though realistically she knew that
there was little chance of her partners finding her. All she could do
was keep running, and hope that Vic and Mac, or maybe even LiAnn, would
find her before Sanji did.
A low chuckle from somewhere
behind her jolted her out of her thoughts, and she pushed away from the
slime-covered wall, already moving again. Her feet were aching, her
shoes being long gone, and she no longer noticed when a small furry form
brushed past her leg. All she could do was keep moving and keep hoping.
But hope was fading fast.
The area of town they ended up in was depressingly close to where
Mac had had his run-in with the mugger the other night. He hadn't asked
anyone what had happened to the man yet, and he wasn't sure he was going
to. He didn't think he really wanted to know.
But in this area, their car
was going to stand out like a sore thumb. Even locked, it was an open
invitation to be stolen. Of course the Agency would quickly retrieve it,
but it would be a hassle.
But hassles weren't a
consideration right then. The only thing that counted was finding Jackie
and getting her out in one piece. After that, dealing with Sanji,
preferably permanently, was the second priority. And then there was
LiAnn to think about.
His stomach clenched as he
got out of the car. From what little they knew, it sounded like LiAnn
wasn't exactly the person he remembered anymore, and he wasn't sure how
he felt about it. Sure, he wasn't exactly the same person he'd been a
year ago, even without the whole vampire thing going, but still, LiAnn
never changed. It was one of the most comforting things about her. Now
he wasn't sure what she was anymore, and that scared him. It scared him
even more than the day he'd realized that his adoptive brother, Michael,
was a psychopath.
Vic was standing in the
middle of the street, sniffing the air. Mac followed his example, but
while his sense of smell was much more acute than it used to be, he
wasn't sure how to interpret what his nose was picking up. All he could
do was sneeze and wrinkle his nose at the stench. It wasn't a normal
stench; that was all he could tell. "So now what?" he asked.
"That pendant of yours
giving you any information?" Vic asked, scanning the street. Mac sighed.
"Nothing. Of course, I don't
have a clue how it works or what it can do, other than giving vague
images of things that only might be happening." He growled low in his
throat, frustrated by the vagueness of it all.
"Then we do this the hard
way."
Vic headed over to the side
of the road to one of the drains down to the storm sewers. Definitely
too small for either of them to fit through. Luckily, the things were
designed so that in the case of trouble, city workers could get into
them. At the end of the street, right before the intersection, was an
access grate.
Vic bent down and hooked his
fingers into the holes that were probably intended for some sort of
small crane, since the manhole cover was solid metal and looked pretty
damned heavy. He squatted, then heaved, every tendon in his neck
standing out in stark relief. The cover didn't move.
Mac knelt down, and the two
of them scraped at the edges of the manhole cover. It didn't take long
to find out what the problem was. "Welded shut," Mac said, grimacing.
"And in the not too distant
past," Vic added. The welds were still slightly shiny, saying that this
wasn't something that had been done years earlier. In fact, it had to
have been since the fire that had destroyed the neighborhood. "I'd say
this clinches it. We're in the right place."
"Yeah, but how the hell do
we get down there?" Mac asked, slapping his palm against the metal. He
winced, and shook the hand briefly to get rid of the sting.
"The hard way," Vic said
with a feral grin. He got to his feet and headed for the car. Mac
watched, puzzled, as the man pulled out a black bag and came back.
"What's that?" he asked,
nodding towards what looked like any ordinary gym bag. It even had the
logo for one of the big health club chains printed on its side. Cheap,
and just like a thousand others in the city.
"This is why I wanted to
stop at the Agency on our way here," Vic said with a grin. He unzipped
the bag and started pulling out bits and pieces. Explosive pieces.
"Perfect," Mac said, the
corners of his mouth pulling up. Big explosions still brought back the
occasional bad memory, but little ones? Those were just fun. And right
now, an explosion suited his mood.
The stuff Vic had in his bag
looked like silly putty and behaved like silly putty, but it was better
than any commercial explosive on the market. It was one of the Agency's
inventions, and even the best sniffer dog would ignore it. An explosives
expert wouldn't recognize it, unless, of course, he worked for the
Agency. Totally inert, unless you had the right kind of detonator. They
spread it around the cover, between the metal and the surrounding
pavement, then Vic set the pencil-sized detonator, pressed it into the
putty, and they ran for cover.
The explosion was relatively
quiet, as explosions went, but it was still pretty loud. The fact that
no one showed up to investigate confirmed what Mac's senses had already
been telling him: There was no one in the area. At least, no one alive.
As for Sanji, if he was around, he wasn't paying any attention to them.
The manhole cover hit the
pavement about thirty feet away with a satisfying clang that was even
louder than the explosion had been, and when they approached the gapping
hole where it had been, they could see down to the bottom where a small
amount of water was sitting, stagnant. Mac wrinkled his nose. "God, it
stinks down there," he muttered more to himself than to Vic.
"Yeah, well you're the one
who thinks Jackie is down there, so get your ass down that hole."
Mac grinned. "You say the
sweetest things," and blew Vic a kiss before swinging his legs into the
hole and reaching for the ladder that led down into the darkness.
The muffled sound of an explosion brought Jackie's head up. What it
meant, she didn't have a clue. All she knew at that point was that she
trapped in a maze. Her suspicions from earlier had been confirmed. This
was the third time she'd found a tunnel that was blocked, either by
metal gates or a collapse. She had a sinking feeling that the only way
out of the maze was the same way she'd come in: through Sanji's lair.
Hell, she was ready to risk even that, if she could just find the
right damn tunnel.
She set aside another chunk
of concrete, her hands filthy and bleeding from the sharp edges. After
finding the cave-in, she'd decided to see if she could clear it, but it
didn't look like she was going to be able to get through before Sanji
found her. In fact, she better get moving if she didn't want him to
catch up with her. His voice was getting closer and closer.
Damn, she was getting tired.
It was almost tempting not to move. She could just wait there for him.
Wait for whatever it was he planned to do.
Like hell. She gritted her
teeth and started walking again.
Finding the entrance to the tunnel system was easy. She closed her
mortal eyes and opened her third eye, and the corrupt energies almost
glowed to her inner sight, with a dark malevolence that seemed to pulse,
it was so strong. Inside the house that she had already identified as
its lair, it led her to the basement and a tunnel. Closing her third
eye, she took a deep breath, then nodded in satisfaction. It wasn't just
the demon's scent; she could also smell Jackie's scent leading into the
tunnel.
The heat inside the tunnels
was incredible, and there was enough water in the tunnels—storm
sewers, from the look of them—to add a pleasant humidity to the air.
It wasn't quite the same as the jungles she now thought of as home, but
it was a pleasant reminder. She'd only been there for a couple months
before being given the task of hunting the Raksha down for the crime of
killing her queen's chosen heir, but the jungle was already more home
than anyplace else in her life, including Hong Kong, Vancouver, and
Toronto. And when she had the demon's head, she could go back, her
position guaranteed. However, if she didn't kill it, she would never be
allowed to return, and that was unthinkable.
She wasn't going to fail.
Once she was into the
tunnels, though, the trail became confused. The demon's mark was
everywhere, and Jackie's trail also was confused. Added to that, no
sooner had she moved past the entry, it disappeared. A simple magical
trick, but very effective. If she needed to leave by that route, she
would have to concentrate very hard to see through the illusion, and for
that time, she would be vulnerable. Fortunately, she wasn't limited to
that one path.
But for the time being, with
no clear sign of what path to take, she set out at random, searching.
Eventually she would find either the Raksha or Jackie, and if she found
Jackie, the Raksha would not be far behind.
That was when she heard the
muffled thump of an explosion. Sounded like her former partners had
decided to join the party.
LiAnn grinned and quickened
her steps, gliding over the scummy water, leaving nothing, not even a
ripple, in her wake.
Down in the tunnels, Vic couldn't shake the feeling that he should
be sweating, something he hadn't done since his Embrace. The sewer
system was dark, hot, and humid, all elements that would make for a
nightmare if he'd been asleep. Unfortunately, this was no nightmare. It
was all too real.
A stench filled the narrow
space. It wasn't just the smell of decay coming from the stagnant water
and the slime and mildew growing on the tunnel walls. There was another
stench underneath the expected smells that made him want to sneeze. A
stench that made his skin crawl. He forced back the sneeze, and gestured
for Mac to stay quiet.
The silence was deafening at
first. Then his ears adjusted, and wasn't silent anymore: No city was
every truly silent, even after midnight. Water dripped, and somewhere,
faintly, a horn honked. Something squeaked, and skittered away through
the muck. Probably a rat. And there were footsteps, too unfocused to
tell where they were coming from. Footsteps and a voice calling out. He
couldn't tell where it was coming from either, but it seemed stronger
from one direction.
He nodded to Mac, raising a
finger to his lips, and they set out down the tunnel, as silently as
they could. He had his gun in one hand, and a silver dagger in the
other. He wasn't sure that either would work against a demon, but hey,
it was worth a try.
Jackie came face to face with another dead end that she was certain
hadn't been there before and had to fight back the tears. The grate
above her head mocked her. It seemed like nearly every turn she took was
now a dead end, even when she was certain that she'd been down that way
before. The tunnels were an ever-changing maze that was closing in on
her. A rat in a maze; that's what she was.
She turned, and she slipped
on something slick. Her ankle twisted, and she heard a crack. She cried
out at the sharp pain and collapsed to her knees. This time she wasn't
able to hold back, and tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her cheeks
to drip from the edge of her jaw. She tried to push back to her feet,
but collapsed again. There was nowhere to go and no way that her broken
ankle was going to support her.
"The game is over, little
night-walker."
Jackie brushed one filthy
hand over her face, wiping away tears, and looked up to find Sanji
standing at the end of the passage where she'd come from. He'd been
waiting for this, she was sure. Waiting for her to give up. Waiting for
her to despair. The expression of his face was pure glee.
The tears stopped, and she
pushed again. This time she made it to her feet. Well, one foot. The
broken one she held up off the ground, trying not to jar it. The pain
was almost unbearable, but if the bastard was going to kill her, at
least she would meet death on her feet, not her knees.
Sanji smiled. "You have
courage, I'll give you that. Most prey gives up long before this. In
fact, some of them don't even bother to try to escape at all. Mere
sheep, good for nothing but the slaughter. Join me," he urged, stepping
forward. She hopped backwards carefully, and he stopped. "Together we
could bring fire and death to this world. It's inevitable, you know it
is. Revel in it!"
Jackie shook her head. "I
don't think so," she said softly, but firmly. She wasn't tempted in the
least. Sanji was charming, definitely attractive, but now that she was
looking for it, there was definitely an edge to his voice that hinted at
madness. Not the almost cheerful madness of her clan, but the kind that
let him torture his prey. No Kindred that she knew would go to the
extremes of setting up this underground system just to play with their
prey before killing them, unless they were Sabbat.
Sanji obviously could see
her resolve, and he looked almost sad, although Jackie didn't buy it for
a minute. She didn't really think he would have done all this if he was
really serious about getting her to join with him. It was just another
part of his game. Another way to raise her hopes, then destroy them,
before he killed her.
Then the grin was back, and
he started to walk forward, his form shifting with every step until what
was left was large and covered with fur, with fangs and claws and a long
tail lashing behind him. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen
before, and she really hoped that she would never see anything like it
again. Of course, he was also probably going to be the last thing she
saw.
She scooted backwards until
her back hit the tunnel wall. Her foot felt like it was on fire, but she
didn't even notice. All she saw was her death coming for her.
That was when something hit
the beast from behind, driving it to the ground, and knocking her
backwards so that her head hit the tunnel wall hard enough to nearly
knock her senseless, and the last thing she heard for a while was the
sound of part of the tunnel collapsing in on itself, trapping them.
Chapter Fifteen
Vic was using every ounce of the tracking skills that had been drilled
into him by Moira and her clan, often backed up with blows and snarls
about how worthless he was for not figuring them out on his own like a
true Gangrel, to track their quarry through the endless maze of
tunnels. They were far more extensive than they should have been, but
all looked to be about the same age, and he wondered just who the hell
had built them and why. They certainly hadn't been dug by the city.
The problem was, there wasn't a real trail to follow. The scents were
everywhere, and when he tried to focus on just Jackie, he found that her
trail was all over the place, crossing over itself time and again. It
was like she was going around in circles, or something. It was
frustrating. Unfortunately, it was what he was stuck with, so he did his
best.
Bit by bit, the trail was getting fresher, though, even though he still
had no idea if they were getting any closer. But he was sure that sooner
or later, they would find Jackie. He just hoped that she would still be
in one piece when they did.
The roar, bouncing off the tunnels walls until it was unbearable, caught
them off-guard, and he stumbled to a halt, his hands pressed to his
ears. Behind him, he dimly heard Mac yelling, "What the hell is that?"
but he didn't have any answers for his partner. Whatever it was, it was
large, it was angry, and he had a sinking feeling that it was what they
were looking for. Suddenly, a gun and a dagger didn't seem like enough.
Once the echoes had died away, they could hear the sounds of fighting,
and this time, they could tell that it was coming from in front of them.
Abandoning tracking techniques and caution, they ran.
If it wasn't for the broken ankle, Jackie would have been running as
fast as she could. While she was more than happy that the beast's
attention had been diverted from her, she really didn't want to be this
close to the fight between it and... Well, she wasn't exactly sure what
it was fighting. Everything was a blur from when she hit the wall.
Bit by bit, her vision did start to clear, though. But when she saw what
was going on, she wasn't so sure that was a good thing. The creature
she'd known as Sanji was even bigger now. Its claws looked like they
were easily a foot long, and razor sharp. The fur covering it was an
inky black that almost made him vanish in the dark tunnel. The eyes were
red. And they burned. Jackie whimpered, and pressed a little tighter
against the wall.
And as for what it was fighting...
It was LiAnn. At least she assumed it was LiAnn. It looked like LiAnn,
although she'd never thought of the prim Asian woman as being the type
to go into battle nearly naked, armed only with teeth and claws. Of
course, she'd never thought of LiAnn as the type to go to bed with a
woman, let alone fuck her raw. And when did LiAnn grow claws anyway?
Jackie's jaw dropped at the ferocity of the battle in front of her,
wondering just what the hell had happened to LiAnn in China. She
definitely wasn't the woman she'd been before. In a fight, she'd used
guns, or occasionally martial arts. Elegant. Simple. Quick. This fight
was anything but.
Jackie ducked, but not fast enough to avoid having blood splash across
her cheek. When she looked up again, the battle was still raging, but
Sanji was missing a chunk of its upper... arm, for lack of a better
term. But it wasn't the only one bleeding. A set of parallel gashes—claw marks, she noted in a strange calm—cut deep into LiAnn's belly.
A human would have been curled up on the ground, trying to hold their
guts in. Hell, a vampire would have been doing the same. LiAnn, on the
other hand, didn't even seem to notice. Instead, she seemed intent on
doing even more damage to the beast, and from what little Jackie could
see, she was succeeding.
But the beast wasn't giving up either. It fought with a viciousness that
would have been impressive if it wasn't so terrifying.
They took three wrong turns before finally finding the right trail, and
by that point Mac was cursing under his breath. It was a good thing that
he didn't have to sweat anymore, since otherwise he would be swimming in
it. It was hot in the tunnels, and it stinked. And he didn't even want
to think about the other things running around with them. After all,
he prided himself on being trendy and urbane, and those terms did not go
with his current location.
On the other hand, he'd be damned if he was going to let any of his
partners get killed if he could stop it. Sure, Jackie was annoying as
hell, and he still owed her for the shot in the alley, back when he'd
run into her the first time after she'd joined the Agency. Of course, he
hadn't known about that: as far as he'd been concerned, she was a con
who was supposed to still be in jail. He'd hurt like hell the next day,
and the bruises had taken nearly two weeks to go away. Of course, now he
knew that she'd been Kindred at the time—the reason she'd been
carefully keeping to shadows on a cloudy day—which explained why
she'd been able to do so much damage. The only thing that still confused
him was the fact that she'd even been awake at all, no matter how close
to sunset it had been.
Distracted, he nearly plowed into Vic's back when the other man stopped
unexpectedly. He moved to the side to see what had stopped the man. A
rock fall, and the sound of fighting was coming from the other side,
punctuated by the occasional, and very non-human, roar.
"Start digging," Vic said, already grabbing a chunk of broken concrete.
Mac matched him, stone for stone. Side by side, they dug as fast as they
could, driven by desperation.
LiAnn laughed loudly as she struck another blow, and the Raksha lost
another chunk of flesh. That wouldn't slow it down, unfortunately. Demon
kind were notoriously had to kill, even more so that the Kuei-jin. She
would need to do a lot more damage before she even slowed it down. And
it didn't help that she was taking it on with her bare hands. Of course,
she wouldn't have it any other way. There was something so... satisfying
about sinking teeth or claws into flesh and rending it apart. Blood
dripping, hot and satisfying.
Oh yes, bloody mayhem was something that would take many years for her
to experience, in all its possible forms.
Jackie was still in one piece, she was pleased to see. She and the
blonde had never gotten along well, before, but she knew now that it was
because of envy. Jackie thoroughly enjoyed her life—or maybe that
was her unlife. LiAnn had always been too concerned about protecting
herself from being hurt to really allow herself to enjoy anything, even
her lovers. One of the many things she'd been working at changing.
But it was obvious that while the pretty blonde was still moving, she
wasn't completely unhurt. Her foot was bent at an awkward angle, which
meant she wasn't getting out of there under her own power, and while she
didn't normally care what happened to her lovers after she was done with
them—the Raksha killing them was more an annoyance than anything else
—she really did want Jackie to survive this.
Unfortunately, the Raksha seemed to pick up on that, and it actually
split its attention, trying to simultaneously hold her off while going
after Jackie. LiAnn blocked the attempt, removing another chunk of flesh
from the creature, with a laugh. If it was stupid enough to give her
openings, she was going to take them. She liked being underestimated. It
gave her an edge. The Raksha also didn't expect the chunk of concrete
that Jackie grabbed and threw with speed and strength to strike it in
the back of his head, giving LiAnn the perfect shot.
She went for the eyes, but this time the Raksha got in a lucky shot, and
she hit the tunnel wall hard enough to disorient her for a moment. The
demon bellowed its victory—a little premature in her opinion—and
attacked, but she rolled out of its way, sweeping up with nails that had
extended into claws, aiming for the relatively vulnerable groin area.
Its bellow of pain almost drowned out the sound of rock against rock,
but not quite.
Turning her head slightly as she leapt out of the way, she saw a portion
of the cave-in fall away. It looked like the boys had arrived.
When Vic pulled away one last stone, the rest came tumbling down, like
an arch with the keystone removed. The space on the other side wasn't
any better lit than the section that they were in, but there was some
faint light coming from above, which combined with Kindred sight to make
the scene clear to him. Jackie was at the other end of the tight space,
her back pressed against a wall. In between was LiAnn, and something
that looked like every nightmare he'd ever had, all wrapped up in one.
The sound of falling stones seemed to distract the creature. It turned
towards them, and Vic's heart jumped into his throat. The creature's
eyes were glowing with fire, and even though the form was nothing like
the one he'd worn before, he recognized those eyes from the film of the
alley the night that the boy was killed. This was their killer, beyond a
doubt.
The only question was, now what did they do?
LiAnn seemed to have an idea, though, and she took advantage it to leap
on the creature's back, her long fingernails—claws?—reaching for
its eyes. It bellowed, and threw itself backwards at a wall, crushing
LiAnn between itself and the concrete. She dropped.
Reacting on instinct, Vic emptied his gun into the creature, and Mac did
the same from beside him. The sound of gunfire was obscenely loud in the
small space.
No effect. The creature just shrugged off the bullets and laughed, an
eerie sound that made every hair on Vic's body stand on end.
But it didn't attack again. Maybe it didn't like the four on one odds.
Jackie was down and out, but she was still fighting. The tunnel floor
was littered with chunks of concrete and other, less identifiable,
material, and she was throwing them with everything she had while she
worked at dragging herself around the edges of the space, heading for
the gap in the cave-in. And LiAnn... Well, after the slam, she should
have been severely injured, if not dead, but she was already shaking her
head and pushing to her feet.
"This isn't over," the creature hissed, raising its arms, chanting
softly in a language Vic didn't recognize.
The tunnel was dark, although not completely to Kindred eyes, but
suddenly the darkness took on a shape, a form. It collected in the
corners, then pressed forward, moving towards the creature, pooling in
its hands. Vic swallowed hard.
"Like hell it is," LiAnn snarled, and leapt onto the creature's back,
clawing at its eyes and throat, but from what Vic could see, she wasn't
getting far. And he knew she was right. Either it ended there, or there
was going to be more deaths in his city. They couldn't afford to let the
whatever the hell it was get away.
Bullets obviously weren't going to do any good, so he tossed his gun
away and switched his dagger to his other hand. The blade was nearly a
foot long and razor sharp, a left-over from the days just after he got
out of jail and was still waiting for his old cop brothers to come after
him. Or maybe he was still deciding whether or not he was going to go
after them. Whatever the situation, knives were quieter than guns, and
having a knife could be passed off as a cooking utensil. In fact, that
was exactly what he used it as these days, if he used it at all.
However, after his introduction to the things that go bump in the night,
he'd had the blade coated in a thin layer of silver, just in case.
He reached down, deep inside of himself, looking for the beast that no
longer scared him the way it had when he'd first changed. Now he knew
that he could control it, use it.
Immediately, everything sharpened, brightened. His vision shifted
slightly, and he could see heat, although it was nothing like the
infrared goggles that were available. If pressed, he wouldn't be able to
describe just how it was that he saw it. He just did. And the
creature... it flared brighter than anything else in the area.
He could also feel bones stretching, elongating, and his fangs dropped,
filling his mouth, even though he had no intention of biting the
creature. He had the feeling that its blood would probably be toxic as
far as he was concerned. Then he crouched down, coiling himself up to
jump.
The darkness was swirling faster now, and there were flashes of light
from it, like a sick sort of lightening. His stomach turned every time
he caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eyes, and he didn't
want to know what it was doing. Only problem, how to stop it. With any
luck, killing this thing that he assumed was Sanji would stop what was
happening. Of course, killing it was the tricky part.
With the creature distracted by LiAnn, Vic waited for just the right
moment.
Then jumped.
Jackie couldn't do much for the fight, but the tunnel floor was littered
with chunks of broken concrete, some of it with pretty sharp edges.
Every time she saw an opening, she grabbed one, threw it at Sanji with
all her strength, then pulled herself towards the next chunk, gradually
working her way towards the gap in the rubble that Vic and Mac had made.
She didn't have a clue how they had found her, but she was ready to cry
with relief. She really needed to do something nice for those two.
Of course, that assumed that they survived this whole business, and
right then, that wasn't a given.
Then Sanji started chanting under his breath, and the shadows suddenly
came alive. One piece of shadow actually touched her, and she jerked
away with a small cry. For a moment, her blood ran first cold, then
hotter than it ever had, even back when she'd been alive. She also had a
brief glimpse of a city that was more wreck than anything else, under an
artificial sky, and it terrified her beyond reason.
They needed to get out of there, and fast. But after her close
encounter with the shadow, she'd gone completely numb. She couldn't move
a muscle.
That was when Vic dropped his gun and jumped at Sanji, a wicked looking
dagger in his hand. Both he and LiAnn were carving away at the beast,
and yet it was still chanting, still fighting. They weren't going to
make it, she suddenly realized.
Mac was fighting the urge to just turn around and run. He prided himself
on having guts, and the street smarts to deal with just about anything,
but this Sanji thing was like nothing he'd ever dealt with, and hoped he
would never deal with again. Seeing it on the security camera was bad
enough. The image that he'd sketched to prove that he'd had the vision
he'd said he'd had was even worse. This was... He shivered, and fought
to keep from whimpering. For a moment, he felt like a complete coward.
That ended the moment that Vic went after the oversized furball with
just a dagger in his hand. He was still terrified, but now it was for a
completely different reason. He'd already lost two partners—Michael
and, it seemed, LiAnn—and he'd be damned if he was going to loose
another. Either of them.
He still had his gun, but it had been pretty damned useless so far. He
was no slouch at target shooting, and at this range with a target this
large, there was no way in hell that either one of them had missed the
ravening beast. They'd emptied two clips, and the damned thing had just
shrugged off the slugs. And from the look of it, LiAnn's claws—what
the hell had she become?—and Vic's oversized filleting knife didn't
seem to be doing much better. Despite the fact that the ground was now
splattered with blood and chunks of monster, it was still going.
And now the shadows were getting into the act. One of them brushed past
Jackie, and she screamed, piercingly loud, before she collapsed. He
wasn't sure what the moving darkness had done to her, and he knew that
he really didn't want to find out first hand. Unfortunately, he probably
would—they all would—unless they managed to stop whatever the
furball was doing.
But if what LiAnn and Vic were doing wasn't doing any good, what could
he do?
Suddenly realizing that he was still hovering in the space in the
cave-in that they'd cleared out, while Vic was on the other side, along
with Jackie and LiAnn, he started to push through. If they were going to
die, then damnit, the were going to die together. That was when the bag
over his shoulder caught on a chunk of concrete. He'd forgotten that he
was carrying it. Then he remembered just what he was carrying.
Vic's duffle bag. The one with the explosives in it. Knowing Vic, he
hadn't used all of them to get the manhole cover open either.
It would have been too risky to use explosives on the caved-in tunnel,
and it was probably too risky to use them now. On the other hand, if
they didn't, they would all be dead, and Sanji would get away, continue
killing. He knew that as certainly as he knew his own name. The pendant
burning against his chest was telling him this.
Mac dropped the bag on the ground and pulled it open. Lots of silly
putty and five more detonators, along with spare clips for their guns, a
cell phone, probably fully charged, a GPS locator, and even a couple of
hand grenades, of all things. Vic Mansfield, over-grown boy scout. Be
prepared.
He grabbed a wedge of putty large enough to blow up a minivan,
considered the creature that had just thrown Vic into a wall, then
doubled it. He set a detonator to ten seconds—the smallest amount of
time he thought was workable—jammed it into the putty, then jumped.
The wad of explosives went down the furball's throat. It actually
swallowed, which was good, since that meant it couldn't spit it out
again. Then Mac went flying. "Run!" he yelled, then went for Jackie. His
first instinct was to grab Vic, but Jackie couldn't walk, and Vic... Vic
could take care of himself, he promised himself.
Jackie seemed almost fragile in his arms as he dove through the gap in
the rubble, and around the nearest corner. The explosion was deafening
in the confined area, and he covered her, protecting her from flying
debris and the flames that made him wonder for a moment if they were
going to survive. It was just like the warehouse, all over again. Him,
Vic, and LiAnn all running for their lives, knowing that they weren't
going to make it, certain that this was it, they were going to die.
Maybe that death had just been delayed a little.
Then the roar faded. The debris was still raining down on them, and
Jackie was clinging to him hard, shaking like she was going to fall
apart. And if he was being honest, Mac was shaking just as hard.
Finally, the rain of concrete and dust died down to nothing, and Mac
lifted his head and looked around.
The first thing he saw was Vic, pushing himself to his knees. Dust had
turned him to a uniform grey, other than the few slow trickles blood
coming from cuts and scrapes, none of them too serious. He was the best
thing that Mac could ever remember seeing in his life.
"Are you okay?" he asked, but he couldn't even hear his own voice over
the ringing in his ears.
Vic winced, and shook his head, sending a spray of dust all over the
place. "Are you all right?" he yelled. Mac could barely hear him.
Instead of yelling back and feeling like an idiot, he settled for just
nodding, then turning his attention to Jackie.
The blonde still had a death grip on his shirt, but other than that, she
wasn't moving. Tears were running down her face, and he wrapped his arms
around her, rocking her back and forth gently. "It's okay, everything's
okay, you're safe now," he whispered, even though she probably couldn't
hear him.
Vic got to his feet and moved to the opening in the rubble. The ringing
in Mac's ears was already starting to fade, letting him hear the gentle
plink of bits of debris still falling to the ground. Mac stood up and
followed Vic, Jackie still clinging to him and hopping along on one leg,
her broken foot held up off the ground and most of her weight resting on
him.
The hole they'd cleared was even larger now, and not too stable looking
either. The air on the other side was full of dust, making it impossible
to see anything. Mac wanted to call LiAnn's name, but he didn't dare.
The explosion had to have killed the whatever-the-hell-it-was—he
still shied away from calling it a demon—but part of him still wasn't
willing to take the chance.
Something was moving in the haze. Mac's spirits lifted for a moment.
Then he realized that it was too large.
"Shit! What does it take to kill this thing!"
"More than you've got, little boy." The voice boomed through the space,
but it seemed to Mac that the critter wasn't moving as fast as before.
He'd hurt it, maybe even badly, but it had taken most of the explosives.
They just didn't have anything left to throw at the thing.
"Move!" Vic shouted, pushing him out of the way of the charging beast.
Then something dropped from the ceiling—or was that out of the
ceiling?—and landed on the creature's back. The figure was barely
recognizable as LiAnn, and Mac wondered just what the hell had happened
to her in China. What was she?
While they watched in shock, she wrapped her arm around the creature's
neck and...
Twisted.
The head separated from the shoulders with a moist, sickening sound that
made Mac ill. A moment later, the body hit the ground with a thump so
massive that another cloud of dust and debris was raised. LiAnn stood
there, over the body, the head raised high, and made a high ululating
sound that reminded Mac of the Xena television show. It raised the hair
on the back of his neck, and Jackie winced against him.
"LiAnn..." Mac stopped, not quite sure what he was going to say.
LiAnn turned to them, and smiled. "Hello, Mac."
"Welcome home?" he said hesitantly, still keeping one eye on the body.
It looked dead, but right then, he didn't trust appearances.
LiAnn's smile turned feral, and for a moment her eyes glowed. "This
isn't home, Mac. It never was."
That brought his attention fully to her"You're leaving, aren't you?" He
swallowed hard. He'd expected it, but still... it hurt.
Her expression gentled. "I've found the place I belong, Mac, just like
you. I came back for one thing, and I have it now." She held up the
head, blood and gore dripping from the neck, and Mac flinched. "What you
are and what I am, there's no common ground anymore. But I'll remember
you fondly. All of you."
"Will we ever see you again?" Surprisingly enough, the unhappy question
had come from Jackie. One night of... well, one night seemed to have
managed to erase all the hostility that had been between the two women
since Jackie's recruitment.
"Not if you're lucky. Take my advice. Stay away from Asia. There's
nothing for you there except true death."
With that, LiAnn stepped backwards slowly until she reached the wall.
But she didn't stop there, and a moment later, she was gone from sight,
passing through the concrete as if it weren't there.
"Okay, that was neat," Jackie said. She shifted her weight, then cried
out in pain. "Um, guys, can we get out of here? I could use a doctor and
a shower, not necessarily in that order. I swear, if I never see a sewer
again, it'll be too soon."
Mac glanced over at Vic. Vic was staring at the wall with a wistful
expression. "Vic?"
Vic blinked, then gave a shake. "Uh, yeah. Right. We should head to the
Agency, file a report."
"It's over?"
Vic walked over to the headless form lying on the ground and nudged it
with his foot. It didn't move, and he was barely able to shift it at
all. "It's over," he said firmly. "All that's left is the clean-up, I
think."
Clean-up. The Director would arrange for the body to be disposed of—assuming that she ever showed up again—by people who could be trusted
with this. It would disappear, much the way McKenzie's body had probably
already disappeared. The Agency was very good at making things they
didn't want known about go away. And then... And then this would all
officially never have happened.
Mac carefully pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on helping
Jackie hop over the debris, while Vic went ahead, figuring out the best
way out.
It was over.
After what seemed like forever, the heat wave finally broke,
bringing with it cooler air and rain. In fact, it had been
raining for three days straight, and was expected to continue for
at least another two. No one in Toronto seemed to be complaining,
though. At least, not yet.
Vic stretched under the hot spray of the shower, enjoying the
lingering ache of muscles well-used, quickly fading. The last few
weeks had been hellish, with little time left over for
themselves. Didn't help that they were dead to the world during
daylight hours, either. But things would be better come winter,
even if the weather wasn't. The nights would be longer, at least.
But the time off had definitely been welcome. At the end of the
case, the Director, who had reappeared, had shocked them all by
giving them a week off. The first night, he and Mac hadn't even
made it out of bed, except to eat. Instead, they'd indulged in
marathon sessions of sex, with interludes where they just
cuddled. That was nice, after their close call. If Mac hadn't
thought of using the explosives, they'd be dead right now, and
the demon would still be killing.
The second night, they'd forced themselves to get dressed and
watch the news. They'd even gone out for a little while, just to
feel the rain on their faces. McKenzie's disappearance had made
the papers, but not the nightly news, and no one had come asking
them questions, so it looked like they'd managed to dodge the
bullet on that one. It didn't mean that they were completely off
the hook, though. Their run-in with the obnoxious Homicide
detective had reminded him that there were still people on the
force that hated him, and would cheerfully see him dead. Maybe it
was time to talk to the Director about leaving town. Sooner or
later, someone was going to come after him and either succeed, or
put him back behind bars again, even though it would probably
make for bad publicity after they'd admitted to sending him to
jail for a crime he didn't commit once before.
"Vic?"
Vic turned off the shower and reached for a towel. "Yeah?" he
asked, stepping out of the shower, rubbing his hair. Silence
answered him. "Mac?" he asked, pulling the towel off his head.
Mac was leaning against the doorframe with a silly grin on his
face, and his eyes definitely weren't on Vic's face. "Earth to
Mac," he said in a sing-song tone.
"Huh? Oh." Mac shook his head and stood up straight. "I need to
head out for a while."
Vic finally noticed that Mac was fully dressed and ready to head
out the door. "Will you be long?"
Mac shrugged. "I doubt it. A couple hours, maybe."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a classic 'I'm up to
something' move. Vic frowned, wondering if he should call the man
on it. Then he decided not to. Trust was important, between both
partners and lovers. Besides, he wasn't sure that he really
wanted to know. "Fine. I've got a few things to do myself. Call
me when you're done and we can go check out that new Blues club
downtown."
Mac rolled his eyes. "Why can't you develop a taste for good
music?" he groused.
"Like the stuff you listen to?" Vic teased back. Mac stuck out
his tongue.
"All right. Blues tonight, club of my choice tomorrow."
"Deal."
The started at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"We are such an old married couple," Mac said as he brushed a few
non-existent tears away.
"Hard to believe, isn't it."
"Are you kidding? A year ago, I would have run away screaming at
the thought of settling down with anyone, let alone you."
Vic snorted. "And what about Claire? Don't forget, you were going
to marry her."
"Don't remind me," Mac said sourly. "Call it a mid-life crisis a
couple decades early."
"Well, you've already done the sports car, so why not?"
Mac shook his head, then grabbed Vic and pulled him in for a
kiss. "I have ever told you how annoying you are?"
Vic grinned. "Same to you. I'll see you later."
For a moment Mac looked confused, as if he'd forgotten what he'd
been talking about earlier. Then the smile was back. "Count on
it," he said.
When Mac was gone, Vic quickly dried off and got dressed. He
hadn't been lying about having something to do, but he still felt
a little worried about letting Mac go running around on his own.
The last time he'd done that, he'd ended up on the wrong side of
town killing someone. Mac hadn't asked, but Vic had: The mugger
had died of his injuries nearly two days after his run-in with
Mac. Dobrinsky had made sure that there was nothing to tie the
dead creep to Mac, for which Vic was grateful. But as long as Mac
didn't want to know about the man, Vic wasn't about to tell him.
Despite his devil-may-care attitude, Mac had some deeply held
morals, and one of those was that he didn't kill except in self-
defense. Knowing that he had beat a man to depth would take him a
long time to recover from.
But still, if he tried to tie Mac to his side, the younger man
would quickly rebel. Mac might be willing to commit, but only to
a certain point. If he pushed to far, Mac would run. Or push him
away.
Dressed, he grabbed the box that had been delivered that day and
headed for the door. The air outside was crisp and clean, and he
enjoyed it. The heat wave hadn't been as bad for them as for the
regular citizens of Toronto, but it had been bad enough. The rain
had stopped for the moment, and the scent of wet earth and leaves
made him think of wide open spaces, and running without a care in
the world. It reminded him of childhood summers and trips to the
lake. Mac, on the other hand, was a city boy, but maybe he'd be
willing to consider a camping trip sometime soon.
The streets around the Agency's headquarters were quiet, and his
was the only car in the parking lot. He grabbed the box and went
inside, heading for the elevators.
"If you're looking for the Director, she isn't here. And you
shouldn't be either."
Somehow, he managed to keep from jumping out of his skin at the
sound of Dobrinsky's voice. "That's nice," he said,
noncommittally, wondering where the woman had disappeared to this
time. It used to be that she almost lived here. Now it was
Dobrinsky who ran the place, more times than not. It was like she
was disassociating herself from the job. "But I'm just here to
drop something off. I'll be out of your hair quickly. Wait. You
don't have any hair. Sorry."
Dobrinsky rolled his eyes. "You've been hanging around Mac too
much, Sport."
Vic grinned wickedly. "Yep, he's rubbing off on me, you could
say."
Dobrinsky closed his eyes for a moment, wearing a pained
expression. Then, knowing better than to give him another
opening, the man turned and walked away. Vic snickered. Mac was
right; Dobrinsky-baiting could be a lot of fun.
The elevator took him down to the records level. The place was
looked empty, with the dim lights and row after row of shelves
full of dusty tomes. The smell of dust was heavy in the air.
"Vic!"
Vic turned at the sound of his name being called. "Careena," he
said, tensing slightly.
"Where's your partner?" she asked, putting a wealth of innuendo
into the word. She had a pile of file folders in her arms, and
her glasses were perched low on her nose so that she could peer
over the tops of them flirtatiously.
"Out. We're meeting later."
"Really? You know, I hear there's a new blues club that opened a
week or so ago. We could..." She brushed past Vic, even though
there was plenty of room to get past him without the contact.
"I'm meeting Mac there," Vic said, stepping back.
Careena stopped and frowned at him. "You know, Vic, I thought—"
Vic cut her off with a raised hand. "And a couple of years ago
you would have been right. But a lot of things have changed since
them, me included. It isn't going to happen now, Careena."
For a moment, she looked like she was going explode. Then she
smiled. "Your loss, Vic."
"Probably," Vic said, trying to make nice. She just shrugged and
disappeared down one of the rows.
Vic shook his head. Sometimes he just didn't understand women.
Maybe it was better that he stuck with Mac. At least he knew what
another guy was thinking.
At the far end of the records area, he found Nathan sitting at a
table in his office. The nervous young man didn't have a desk,
just a large boardroom table covered with papers and books.
Nathan was leafing through a book so old that clouds of dust rose
every time he turned a page, and he was muttering to himself.
"Hi, Nathan," Vic said, setting his box on the table in one of
the few clear spots.
"Vi... Vic. Um... What brings you down here?" Nathan said,
licking his lips nervously. His eyes darted right and left. He
looked like he was looking for an escape route.
"I heard a rumor that you like Milka bars," Vic said, opening the
box and turning it so that Nathan could see the pile of imported
chocolate bars.
"Oh!" Nathan said, reaching for the box. Then he drew back his
hand before actually touching the box. "Um... what did you want?"
Vic frowned, then realized that Nathan thought he wanted
something for the chocolate. "Nothing. This is to say thank you
for the other night."
"O... Other night?" Nathan practically squeaked.
"Yeah. You had the information that let us reach Jackie in time
to stop the killer. If you hadn't, Jackie would probably be dead
right now. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Nathan said, straightening up. He looked
surprised, and Vic wondered how often he was actually praised for
his work, and resolved to do so a bit more often.
"Enjoy," Vic said, waving as he left. As he headed for the
elevators, he could hear the rustle of a wrapper being pulled off
behind him, and smiled. He would have to thank Dobrinsky for the
suggestion as well.
He was whistling as he left.
Mac paused outside the bar door, briefly considering just turning
around and leaving. The bar looked a lot rougher than the type he
preferred to go to, and the area of town wasn't his favorite
either.
Then he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke. The music blared from a
jukebox and was hopelessly out of date. It wasn't even classic,
like the stuff Vic listened to. It was just top twenty type stuff
from nearly a decade earlier, completely forgettable. As for the
people inside the bar, they fit the atmosphere perfectly. The men
outnumbered the women pretty much ten to one. Jeans and leather
was de rigueur, to go with the lineup of motorcycles outside. It
was a parody of a biker bar, as far as Mac was concerned.
He saw who he was looking for at a small table at the back of the
bar, nursing a beer. Ignoring a few sneering comments directed at
him and his clothes, he headed for the man. "Didn't expect to
hear from you so soon," he said. "In fact, I thought you'd
already left town."
Cash waved for him to sit down. "You want a drink?" he asked,
ignoring the comment.
A waitress who looked about a hundred years old came over, and
figuring that he wasn't going to get any of his favorite import
or micro-brew beers, he just asked for whatever was on tap.
When his beer arrived, he took a polite sip, then put the glass
down. He tried not to look at the rim too closely, figuring that
the glass probably wasn't too clean. The beer was tasteless, but
more because of the generic brand name than his dulled taste
buds. "All right, Cash. You wanted to meet me without Vic
knowing. Here I am. So what do you want?"
Cash raised an eyebrow, but Mac didn't feel guilty about the
hostile tone. While he had enjoyed his night with Cash back in
San Francisco, and he was grateful to the man for saving Vic's
life, he was still pissed off that Cash had tried to get Vic to
leave with him. To abandon Mac, in other words.
"I'm heading north tomorrow," Cash said, setting down his now
empty beer glass.
"That's nice," Mac said noncommittally.
"I still think that Vic should come with me. The Director's offer
is still open, she says."
Mac growled, and from Cash's expression, he knew that he was
losing control of his beast. "And what do you expect me to do?
Give you permission to run off with my partner, my lover? Give
you my blessings? Well the hell with you," he hissed, trying not
to draw attention to them. Even so, they were getting some sharp
looks from the closest tables.
"Mac, it wouldn't be forever. The two of you can be together for
centuries, potentially. But only if you both get the training to
let you survive. Surely your sire—"
Mac cut him off with a wave. "Obviously the Director didn't bring
you up to speed. My so-called sire was Sabbat, a Ravnos, and she
didn't survive the night that I dug myself out of the grave she
put me in. Vic is the only teacher I've had so far, and you want
to take him away? Doesn't exactly go with your talk about us
needing our sires to train us, now does it?"
Cash actually looked shocked. "Sabbat?"
Mac nodded. "And there was no choice involved. She ripped my
throat out on the orders of..." he hesitated. "Of someone who
wanted to hurt the Director," he finally said.
"I... I didn't know."
"Obviously. It's been crazy since then, and sometimes I think
that the only thing that has kept me sane was the fact that Vic
was there, every step of the way. Now, why don't we talk about
the real reason you're so hung up on having Vic go with you."
Cash shook his head. "I told you, I don't want any Childe of mine
to be left trying to figure out things on their own."
"Bullshit. From what I understand, all Gangrel are left that way.
You were, so why not Vic?"
"Because..."
"And it isn't like he didn't get any training. The Director
arranged for the local Gangrel clan to teach him all the basics.
In fact, he's doing pretty damn good. He doesn't need you to hold
his hand."
"Mac..."
"Admit it, Cash. It isn't Vic you're worried about, it's
yourself. You're going to be separated from your lover for
however many years, so you want to take my lover with you so
that you won't be lonely."
Cash was shaking his head vigorously now. "It isn't like that."
Mac stared at him for a moment. "Are you sure?" he said softly.
In a way, he almost felt sympathetic, but not enough to encourage
Vic to go with him. "You waited a year for this. What stopped you
from coming before this? I'm sure that if you'd asked, you could
have worked something out with Julian and the Director to come
stay in Toronto for a few years to train him, but you didn't. You
waited until something forced you to leave San Francisco and your
lover. Until then, nothing. I know Vic called you a couple times,
but did you ever call him? Did you ever try to build any sort of
relationship with him before you showed up here, expecting him to
drop everything and follow you off into the wilderness?"
Cash looked away. "I didn't come up here intending to hurt you,"
he finally said.
"And you haven't," Mac said, relenting slightly. Only slightly.
"But if you take Vic away now, you will. I've lost everyone who
ever meant anything to me in my life, one by one. My parents, my
adoptive family, one of my partners who was also my foster sister
and lover. And now you're trying to take Vic away too. Cash, I
like you. I wouldn't have slept with you if I didn't." Mac
snorted. "Well, maybe I would have. But still, you're making a
mistake here. What are you so afraid of, being alone?"
Cash was eyeing him with something that looked like respect now.
"When did you get so wise?" he asked.
"Don't be fooled, I'm still immature and shallow. And you're
avoiding the question."
"Yeah, I guess I am. I... I miss Julian."
"Well, duh, as Jackie would say. But you said it yourself: You go
your separate ways until it's time for him to leave San Fran,
then you get back together again."
"I suppose."
Mac's eyebrow went up. "What, you think he's going to lose
interest in you? Out of sight, out of mind?"
Cash snorted. "Something like that. I'm up here, and he's back
there. And so is Lily. And Frank."
Mac rolled his eyes. "And you fucked me. From what you've told
me, monogamy isn't a word in either of your vocabularies. And no
one said that you had to be there to keep his attention. It's why
they invented phones, you know. To keep in touch?"
Cash looked surprised, and Mac groaned. "You've got to be joking.
What were you planning on doing, going incommunicado for a few
years? Call the man, idiot. I'm sure he's got enough money to
foot the bill if you don't. Have phone sex. Tell him what you've
been up to. Make sure he doesn't get the chance to forget about
you, that you're waiting for him."
"I never thought of that," Cash said,
"Obviously. And call us once in a while too, okay? And just
because I'm not going to let you run off with my partner doesn't
mean you can't be around for him. Maybe the Director can be
convinced to give us the occasional vacation. We come visit you,
you get to add to Vic's training, the two of you can actually get
to know each other. Sound good?"
Cash grinned. "Like I said, for someone so young, you've got some
good ideas."
"Yeah, well tell the Director that. She still doesn't like
sending me on stakeouts."
"What happened?" Cash asked, his eyes narrowing.
Mac laughed ruefully. "We were staking out what was supposed to
be an arms shipment being smuggled through town. I got bored, so
I went and picked a fight with the guys we were supposed to just
be watching."
Cash laughed. "You broke a stakeout because you were bored? Wait
a minute, you said 'supposed' to be an arms shipment. What was
it?"
"Lungs."
"What?"
"They were smuggling organs. Black market organ transplants. The
arms dealer almost ended up with LiAnn's lungs inside of him."
Cash's expression was priceless. "Wait a minute. Start over, and
this time from the beginning."
Mac picked up his beer glass and took a quick swig. "Well, it was
like this..."
The Director leaned back in her chair, the fine leather sinfully
comfortable. It had cost more than most people made in a month,
but it was worth it. Besides, with her job she deserved a few
perks.
"So," she said, spinning around lightly to face her assistant.
"How did the children do?"
Dobrinsky was sitting opposite her, on the other side of her
desk. They were in her private office, which meant that they
didn't have to worry about any unexpected interruptions;
something that happened all to regularly with her favorite team.
If she didn't like them so much...
"All in all, they did quite well. Jackie did get kidnapped by the
killer, but the boys put together the clues and tracker her down
before anything permanent happened. This whole thing was insane
from the start, but they did good."
The Director smiled. If Dobrinsky was willing to say that, then
it must be true. She knew that her second still had reservations
about her choices for her 'special' team, even after all these
years, but he wasn't so prejudiced that he couldn't admit when he
was wrong. "I'm glad to hear it. And LiAnn?"
Dobrinsky sighed. "Based on Vic's report, I would consider her
lost. She made it quite clear to them that she has no intention
of returning."
"A pity. From the sound of it, she might have been able to fill
us in a little on the mysterious Orient." She sighed, then
shrugged. "Mark her as permanently retired in the archives, but
with a notation that if she calls, we answer. No need to
completely burn that bridge."
"Already done," Dobrinsky said with a smirk. He was very good at
anticipating her, which was why he was her second. Then he turned
sober. "But I still think you were taking a serious risk,
disappearing when you did."
Part of her wanted to snap that it wasn't any of his business,
but they both knew that wasn't true. Someday — and probably
sooner rather than later — he was going to be sitting in her
chair, making the tough calls in her place. "I needed to see how
they would handle this on their own," she finally said.
"Eventually they will have to move on, without me to call on. If
they can't survive without me, then better that they be killed
now."
"Before you can care too much?"
She laughed. "It's too late for that," she said, a little bitter.
More than two hundred years of being so careful, and along came
three scruffy children — well, maybe not so scruffy — who
worked their way past her defenses. And yet, strangely, she
didn't really mind. As far as she was concerned, they were her
kids, even if they definitely hadn't turned out the way she'd
expected. She'd had such plans for them. She should have
remembered what they said about plans.
But the kids also made her vulnerable, which is why her sister
had targeted them. And knowing her sister, she wasn't done
either.
"And then there's Jackie," Dobrinsky said, catching her off-
guard. Of course, of her agents, the petite blonde was his
favorite.
"What about her? You did tell me that she was all right," she
said, worriedly.
"Physically, yes. However, while you gave the three of them the
week off, and she hasn't left her apartment yet."
The Director sighed. "I'll take care of her," she said. And she
had a few ideas of how to do that.
Jackie sat, staring out into the inky, wet darkness, watching the
lights of the city as they sparkled brightly. The papers were
still full of stories about the series of murders, not yet
realizing that it was over. In time, they would forget about
them, maybe resurrecting the questions every year or two,
wondering what happened to the Nightclub Killer. As for the man
Sanji had killed and put in her car, there'd been a couple
articles about the disappearance of a Homicide detective, but
nothing had come of it. She knew that Vic and Mac were still
waiting to see if they'd been connected to the man, but no one
had shown any interest in them, thankfully.
Jackie glanced over at the letter sitting on the coffee table. It
had arrived while she was asleep that day. The postmark was
smudged beyond reading, but she'd recognized the handwriting
immediately. LiAnn. She picked it up and read the brief note
again.
"Hello, Jackie.
I'm home, welcomed with open arms. Bringing back the head of the
killer of the Queen's heir has ensured my place for however long
I want it. And with that dealt with, I can now move on to what
brought me back after my parents killed me.
All my life I have been denied, and denied myself. A poverty-
stricken childhood. Life in a brothel. Life as the adopted child
of a Tong leader. My time as a fugitive. As an agent. Always
doing what I was told and never what I wanted.
But now, everything is different. Now I can do as I please,
experiencing all that life — and yes, I do mean life — has to
offer. So many things I never had the chance to experience, and
I'm going to try them all.
Our night together was pleasant, but can only be that: One night.
Like I told Mac, there's no common ground left for us. You won't
see me again. But I will remember you, and the boys, fondly.
Watch your back, blondie.
LiAnn"
That was it. No explanations of where she was, or what sort of
queen she was talking about. So many unanswered questions.
Jackie set down the rough paper again. She'd never really gotten
along with LiAnn. They'd been like two cats, fighting for the
same territory. Still, she'd respected the woman, and she was a
little surprised to find that she was going to miss her. For one
brief moment, she hadn't been so very alone.
Of course, it didn't hurt that LiAnn had been one fantastic fuck.
She heard the click of the door behind her, but didn't turn
around. She could guess who it was.
"Sitting all alone in the dark? That isn't healthy." The
Director. She'd reappeared as mysteriously as she'd disappeared
during the case, not bothering to explain where she'd been or
why. She'd told them all 'good job' and to take a week off.
Jackie had gone home and stayed there. She wasn't in the mood for
clubbing. She wasn't sure that she'd ever be in the mood for it
again.
The sofa shifted under her slightly as the Director sat down next
to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Surely it isn't
that bad," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
Jackie leaned against her, needing the contact. The Director
wasn't usually quite this touchy-feely though. "I liked him,
you know. The night we met up at the club, we talked for hours. I
know he was just manipulating me, but it was nice. We seemed to
mesh so well."
"And now you feel alone again. But you aren't alone. Not if you
don't want to be."
Jackie laughed bitterly. "Right. Vic and Mac have each other.
Dobrinsky has Nathan. LiAnn is gone. Other than them, I don't
have any one I can just be me with."
"You have me," the Director said, squeezing her gently.
Jackie shook her head. "No I don't. You're my boss, my Prince.
You can't be that as well as my friend. My..." She stopped, and
started to pull away, but the older woman didn't let go.
"Your lover?" She seemed to hesitate, then brushed her knuckles
across Jackie's cheek. "Maybe not forever, but that doesn't mean
I can't be until you meet that person you're waiting for." She
leaned closer. "You don't have to be alone."
She let go, and Jackie felt a flash of loss, but the Director
just stood up and held out a hand to her. "Want to give it a
try?"
Jackie stared up at her, her thoughts all awhirl. She knew that
the older woman was just offering physical contact. She knew her
well enough to know that it would never be anything more than
that. She wanted to say no. After all, if all she wanted was a
willing body, she could find that anywhere. On the other hand, if
nothing else, at least the Director understood her, all of her,
and her one night with LiAnn had shown her how good that could
be.
She stood, took the offered hand, and let herself be led into the
bedroom.
The jungle was hot an humid, the air barely moving. Very little
of the sunlight made it through the canopy to the ground under
the trees, giving everything a twilight haze. In the distance she
heard a monkey screech. The sound of birds was almost constant,
as was the drip of water.
LiAnn relaxed, stretched out along a tree branch, not even
noticing the insects that crossed her naked body as though it was
just another barrier to get past. Insects were a constant part of
life in the jungles of southern Asia, and she accepted them as
that. It was life, in all its glory.
Below, she could hear the sound of laughter, coming from the
people she now called family. She was thankful that they had
found her, not long after she'd killed her parents, wandering
though the farmlands of China. The peasants were already hunting
her, since she hadn't been able to stop with just her parents.
She'd bathed in blood until she was sated, then ran for her life.
But the Tigers had found her first, helping her escape, then
teaching her how to live her new life. She'd been tempted to join
them, but it hadn't felt right, and they'd recognized that.
They'd finally sent her to the Golden Courts, where she'd finally
found a home; the first true home she'd ever had.
She would miss her old partners, though. Mac had been there for
her, ever since they'd been thrown together by the Tangs. He'd
stood up for her when Michael had been mean and hateful, jealous
that his father had brought two strangers home. He'd been the
first real lover she'd ever had, although she'd certainly been no
virgin. And when she'd pushed him away, he'd refused to go, just
giving her enough space to try to figure out what she really
wanted.
And Vic, sweet Vic, was the first man to make her feel like a
woman. He'd even wanted to marry her, disaster though that would
have been. They would have ended up hating each other if they'd
actually gone through with it. And even though she'd hurt him
unbearably, he'd still been her friend after everything she'd
done.
Then there was Jackie, annoying, but loyal to a fault in the end.
So brave, in going up against the Raksha. And a tiger in bed. If
she wasn't a vampire, LiAnn might have been tempted to bring her
home with her. Jackie would have fit so well into the Court life.
But she was a vampire, and there was no place for her in
LiAnn's world, any more that LiAnn had a place in hers.
She would never see any of them again, and it was probably for
the best, but they would always hold a special place in her
heart.
"LiAnn!"
She sat up at the sound of her name being called, completely
unconcerned by her nudity. Ling was grinning up at her, a grin
full of sharp teeth and sex. She dropped from the branch, more
than fifteen feet up in the air, and landed lightly on her feet.
Ling growled lightly in the back of her throat, a sound that was
purely playful.
LiAnn wrapped her arm around the tiny girl, and together they
headed for the building that had been a temple, centuries before.
Yes, her old family would always have a place in her heart, but
this, this was home.
THE END
Oh, East is East and West is West,
—Rudyard Kipling
Chapter Thirteen
any people think of the dark as just an absence of light and
think that they've what it's like to be in the dark. A room in the
middle of the night with the lights off, a basement during a
blackout. Little things like that.
and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgement Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho' they come from the ends of the earth!
