Demon Driven (34 page)

“Sir, the Coven is the oldest government on
Earth. Thousands of years of continual service. Darkkin, as
vampires prefer to call themselves, are mostly very careful about
following rules and avoiding unnecessary killing. Mind you, their
nature is completely predatory, but it makes more sense for them to
live among and with humans than to be at war with them. It’s a kind
of symbiotic relationship. We, humans, although I’m not sure I can
include myself anymore, provide food. The Darkkin in turn use their
resources to provide jobs and economic stability. Mr. President,
did you know that the Coven controls almost all the private blood
banks in this country and abroad? That most of the blood that
supports our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan comes from their
supply? It’s true!”

“I would like to believe what you are telling
me, Officer, but the evidence I’ve seen has shown me nothing but
murder and horror,” he said, a micro shudder running through him
involuntarily.

“Of course, Sir. Vampires are first and
foremost predators, and there are always those in any society that
break the rules. The Coven punishes those Darkkin, as any murder
draws unwanted attention. The punishment is generally death.”

I was careful not to say that all killing was
punished because that would have been a lie. Vampires were killers,
it was only the kills that drew public attention that would be
punished. A homeless person drained and left to look like death by
exposure would be frowned on, but not punishable by death.

“So you are warning dire consequences from
the Coven if we seek to bring you to justice?” the President
said.

“What justice? I killed eight terrorists that
were holding 900 people – mostly children, hostage with explosives.
Bring that case to trial and watch your poll numbers plummet. But
that would never happen would it? No, my so-called trial would
occur out of sight with the decision fixed ahead of time,” I said,
unable to keep the bitter tone out of my voice. “Actually, Mr.
President, I was trying to convey the Coven’s place in things so
that you would leave them alone. Mr. Kincaid here was looking for
an opportunity to unleash his firepower against my fiancé. That
would put you at war with both the Coven and myself.”

“So I get the Coven’ s power, Gordon, and you
are a formidable individual to be sure, but you’re only one man,”
he said.

“Ahh! Now we get to the heart of my message,
Sir. I keep telling you folks, and I would have thought the lobby
of the Homeland Defense building would be enough, but apparently
not. Mr. President, I’m really never alone.”

“Oh I haven’t forgotten your pet, Officer,
but again, it’s just him and you against the U.S.”

I sighed, rubbed the bridge of my nose, while
receiving a message from Okwari. I sent him my own thoughts in the
form of a request. The response was a grudging acceptance.

“Mr. President, for the last time – he’s not
a pet. He’s fully sentient and not really even a bear. Or maybe I
should say, he’s way more than a bear. Maybe bear-god would be
appropriate,” I said.

“But it’s out of my hands. Mr. President…he
tells me you’re in your bunker.”

>It’s called the Presidential Emergency
Operations Center –PEOC<
Deckert said.

“Mr. President…how’s your heart? I hope
you’re in good shape, Sir, because he’s coming to make his point in
person!” I said.

The President had time to widen his eyes at
my statement, then Okwari was there…in the room with him, off
camera.

The next few minutes were chaos, as Secret
Service agents fired ineffective rounds, and the President was
hustled as far back in the room as possible. I could follow it in
my head, the view from Okwari’s eyes better than the one from the
camera.

Within a couple of seconds, all the humans
were against the far wall and then having made his point, Okwari
turned to the bunker’s locked, armored steel door and ripped it
from its hinges like wet soggy paper. Then he was gone.

The scene on the laptop was blank, just the
Presidential Seal on the wall, behind where the President had been
sitting. Voices were jumbled among the confusion, but I could hear
the tones of panic edging back to a semblance of calm.

Kincaid looked ready to hurl, his face a
sickly green color. General Creek was alarmed, watching me warily,
but far from any kind of panic.

“They’re all right, General. Okwari promised
me he wouldn’t hurt them, but he insisted on delivering his own
message.”

He brushed a hand through the bristly stubble
of his crew cut, sighed and spoke: “I tried to tell them. But it’s
difficult for people to believe unless they’re there and see it
with their own eyes.”

I nodded, but before I could answer, the
President resumed his spot in front of the camera, which oddly
hadn’t been so much as jostled during the chaos.

“You all right, Mr. President?” I asked.

He had a slightly wild-eyed look going, but I
could see him bringing it under control.

“Okay, Officer Gordon. I think your point is
made.”

“Sir, not to belabor the point, but it’s
really, really important that you understand that was
his
point!” I said, somewhat urgently.

He held up one hand and nodded. “Yeah, I got
it!”

“I’m hoping so, Sir. Because it could have
been enormously worse,” I said.

“Forgive me if I fail to see how, Officer,”
the President said.

“Sir, he could have just yanked the satellite
that’s sitting overhead, counting the hairs in my head, right down
on the Capitol building or the White House, or if it wasn’t big
enough, he might just use an iron-nickel asteroid.”

His eyes widened and my peripheral vision
noted the thoughtful look that came over General Creek’s face.

“So what are your demands?” the President
asked, his face reflecting defeat.

“Well, first of all, leave the Coven,
especially Tanya alone! That’s vital.”

“Okay, leave the girl friend alone, got
it.”

“There is an old man upstate who needs to be
left alone as well. He has the same last name as I.”

“What else?”

“There are some rather bogus charges against
me…I would like them dropped.”

“Already done, Officer Gordon,” General Creek
said.

“We can dispense with the Officer part, as
effective today, I’m resigning from the NYPD,” I said.

The President just raised his eyebrows in
question.

“I won’t work for someone who breaks faith
with me,” I said with a shrug.

“What else?”

“Mr. President, I love my country, which is
why I have insisted that none of the law enforcement or military
people involved have been hurt. What I need is some leeway. Some
room to work.”

He frowned. “Room to work what?” he asked
warily.

“The Southwest portion of this country is
facing a gang problem that I am uniquely qualified to handle,” I
said.

“Mr. President, he’s talking about the Loki
Spawn gang problem,” Creek said.

“The weres?”

“Yes Sir!” Creek said.

“I thought you wanted to protect the weres,
Offi…Gordon?” the President asked.

“Only the New York Pack, Sir. The Spawn are
something altogether different, and they have declared war on the
Coven. They tried to kill Tanya,” I said, struggling to control the
anger that statement elicited.

Something must have shown on my face because
the two men near me edged back and the President’s eyes
widened.

“Would that have anything to do with Atlantic
Avenue?” he asked.

“About 300 Spawn attacked a small group of my
people.”

“I see. And those Spawn are where right
now?”

“They are about two inches of ash on the
floor of the tunnel,” I said, my voice roughening.

>Christian!<
Tanya’s voice said,
settling me instantly.

“
All
three hundred?” he asked,
incredulous.

“Yes, Sir, but I only killed about 190 of the
or so. Okwari took out like thirty-five to forty, and the Coven
killed like maybe seventy.”

>Seventy-seven!<
Tanya
interjected in my ear.

“Seventy-seven,” I corrected.

“What turned them to ash?” the President
asked.

“Ah, I did.”

“You burned them to ash?

“Well, Sir, they were killing my fiancé. I
sorta snapped,” I said with a shrug.

“Gordon, you burned 300 werewolves to ash?”
General Creek asked, unable to control his curiosity

The President frowned his famous frown. “Mr.
Gordon, you have entirely too much power!”

I chuckled, “Sir, that seems funny coming
from the most powerful man in the world!”

“Gordon, my power is granted by the people,
controlled with checks and balances! Yours is completely personal,
uncontrolled, without any boundaries!”

“Actually sir, I have numerous checks and
balances,” I said. “The most important of those stands about this
high,” I held my hand at Tanya height, “has black hair and truly
amazing blue eyes. You know? The one Kincaid here was thinking of
cannoning to death with his gunship!” I finished with a glare at
Kincaid.

“You’re saying that Tatiana Demidova acts as
a counter balance to you?” the President asked, ignoring my glance
at Kincaid.

“Think of her as my artificial
conscience.”

“So a vampire is your guide for right and
wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“Wow, it sounds bad when you say it that way.
I have my own principals of right and wrong, pounded into me by my
grandparents, and my parents before them. Basic Judeo-christian
principals. But Tanya acts as a control on my temper,” I said. “You
see Mr. President, things could get really bad if I lose my temper.
I’m doing a decent job of controlling it, but Tanya can calm me
with a word or a touch. There are some other checks, but she is the
most powerful.”

A quick montage of images scrolled through my
head, showing the Tear, Barbiel, my grandfather, Gina, Lydia, and
Okwari.

“So, in summary, you want me to not only let
the most dangerous man on the planet roam free, but keep law
enforcement out of your way while you slaughter a gang of furry
bikers, while leaving your self control in the hands of a
twenty-something vampire princess?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

He scratched his head, then rubbed his chin
while he considered.

“How in hell are we supposed to keep the
police out of your way?”

“Well, Sir, I kinda thought I could
coordinate with General Creek here, maybe through an
intermediary.”

“I see. Do you have such an intermediary in
mind?”

I smiled. “It happens that I do.”

Epilogue

Truth be told, I was a bit nervous when I got
off the elevator, shuffling my packages awkwardly. I can pick up a
car but that extra strength and agility doesn’t give me extra arms
or longer fingers. Awkward boxes and objects are still a pain to
handle. Of course, if I drop them, the package will never hit the
ground. My save rate is awesome.

* * *

Gina and Roy Velasquez lived in a Brooklyn
apartment building that was well kept and lovingly maintained,
although the neighborhood had seen better days. Both public
servants, they made solid middle income wages but the City is
expensive at the best of times and they were raising a child.

Apartment forty-seven loomed in front of me
and the sounds of laughter were loud to my ears. I had been hearing
dozens of conversations as I walked up the four flights of stairs,
my acute hearing making the walls paper thin.

* * *

The Velasquez apartment was generating the
sounds of a party in full swing, a riotous mixture of both adult
and child voices. I paused, my hand frozen in door knock position,
suddenly gripped with uncertainty. The sounds within scared me more
than the growl of a were or the hiss of a pissed off vampire. The
easy laughter and voices warm with friendship were alien to my
experience.

The door opened before I could bring myself
to knock and Roy’s smiling face and stocky frame filled the
doorway.

“Aha! I knew I heard the ding of the elevator
door!” he exclaimed in victory.

“Hi Roy,” I said.

“Chris, I’m…we’re really glad you came!” he
said, his eyes filled with some emotion that I had difficulty
identifying.

“Oh hey! Let me grab some of this from you,”
he said, breaking into motion after that uncomfortable pause.

I let him take the bottle of wine and the
twelve pack of Sam Adams beer, but kept hold of the large box
tucked under my right arm.

“Roy, who’s at the doo….Oh Chris! You’re
here! Great!” Gina said, from the archway to the living room.

I had been here exactly one time before, when
Gina had thrown a squad holiday party. The door opened into a
hallway that led to the kitchen straight ahead. A big archway in
the left wall of the hallway led into a large living room that also
held the dining room table. The right hand wall held four doors,
the first a closet, next the master bedroom, then the single
bathroom and finally, Antonia’s room.

Antonia was five today and that momentous
occasion was the primary reason for the party.

* * *

The birthday girl herself came zooming around
the corner, laughing and bumping into her mother’s jean clad leg.
The adult dress code for the party was decidedly casual, but
Antonia had other ideas about what
she
would wear. With long
black hair and dark chocolate brown eyes, she was her mother’s
daughter to the core. She was dressed in a white party dress with
poofy sleeves and a light blue ribbon around her waist and another
blue ribbon in her hair. Spotting me, she straightened up, her face
becoming serious.

“Hi, Mr. Chris,” she intoned in an exact copy
of her mother’s voice, only higher. The squad had nicknamed her
Mini-G, because she was so much like Gina.