Something Secret This Way Comes: Secret McQueen, Book 1 (22 page)

Then I was gone.

Chapter Thirty

Outside, daylight smashed into me like a fist. I felt discombobulated and dizzy. My vision swam, unaccustomed to the brightness of a sunny afternoon, and under the layers of clothing I broke out in a cold sweat. This was the kind of fear I didn’t know how to deal with. The sun was not an enemy I could fight. I’d spent my whole life hiding from the light, and now I was willingly walking out into it.

I opened up the umbrella, and the black material blotted out the worst of the light as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Stumbling down the street like a burdened drunk, I kicked myself for not thinking about sunglasses. I’d never owned a pair—I’d never had a need for them before—but with the glaring shine of afternoon burning my nighttime retinas, I was blinded.

The urge to sleep was so incredible my body and feet felt like lead. I hoped Brigit hadn’t been mistaken about the theater, because if I could at least find myself somewhere dark, my body might regain enough strength to give me a fighting chance.

I tilted the umbrella to keep the light out of my eyes and continued my pathetic trek towards the only location that made sense. There was a place halfway between my apartment and Central Park that had once been a luxurious theater called the Orpheum. A fire in the 1980s had killed several people and led to its subsequent closure, but because it was considered a historical building debate raged on for decades as to what should be done with the place.

It was remiss of me to not think of it sooner as a perfect nest. Of course it would appeal to vampires—it was full of darkness, death and tragedy. Furthermore, the nasty appeal of the place would sometimes attract someone foolish enough to sneak in who would then find themselves as unexpected supper guests for a hungry clusterfuck of undead.

After a few blocks of lethargic progress, I stood on the corner opposite the theater. It managed to look foreboding in the bright light of day. The
ph
of the Orpheum’s sign had fallen down years ago so I read it as the
Or eum
, which was probably Latin for
terrible fucking idea
. Many small round bulbs that once lit the marquee had been smashed by vandals, so only those out of easy reach were still whole. The marquee itself had lost most of the letters that had once announced its closure, so instead of saying
Closed for Business
only a half dozen black block letters remained with no semblance of meaning. The windows of the main double doors were painted over with black, and through the shattered panes the boarded panels behind were visible.

I limped across the street and stood in front of the doors. Deep in my chest was a sensation I’d only experienced before a meeting with the Tribunal. Both there and here, my fate was in someone else’s hands. Beneath the marquee the sun was blocked out, as it had been in my dream, but I hadn’t yet begun to feel refreshed. Instead a chill seeped into my bones and unease spread like a dark shadow through my whole body.

No turning back now. I’d come this far and I had no choice but to continue. Touching my back, I reassured myself I still had my guns. What lay beyond these doors was the truest kind of
get it done or die trying
situation. If I didn’t take Peyton alive, he would see me dead. There was something comforting about knowing the outcome would be black or white with no room for gray.

With my own death at the forefront of my mind, I pulled on one of the handles, and it yielded, swinging out towards me. Part of me was expecting the squeal of angry hinges, some sort of loud announcement of my arrival, but the door opened with nothing more than a swishing sigh of air being sucked inward.

The atmosphere inside was that of stagnant darkness, and the air was cold and still. I entered the old lobby of the Orpheum, crossing the aged red carpet and moving past the empty ticket booths into the large arena of the movie theater itself.

It had once been a theater for stage productions and operas. The ceilings rose in high arches to amplify the acoustics and were painted in detailed murals depicting choirs of angels and devils combating over the souls of the patrons below.

On either side of the room were three private boxes. Each had once held a collection of seats, but according to local news coverage those had since been removed and taken to storage or alternate theaters. I stood under the archway that led into the room and took in the entirety of the scene, smelling the air for goons who I knew waited within.

I removed my scarf, hat and gloves and tucked them beneath a nearby seat so they wouldn’t reveal my arrival too soon. I kept the jacket on, unwilling to leave my extra ammunition anywhere out of arm’s reach. Removing one of the guns from my waistband, I held it as my only comfort.

I smelled the group of guards before I heard them. Pressing my back against the wall, I ducked behind one of the heavy, red velvet curtains and waited without breathing. There was laughter and a chorus of booming male voices that didn’t falter as they passed me. I had gone unnoticed.

There were three of them and their scents were muddled together, but the whole group reeked of wolf. I must have escaped detection because they were used to smelling their own kind. I was willing to take any small kindnesses the universe was offering me right then.

They moved upward to one of the boxes and settled there. I waited until I heard the scraping of metal chairs being rearranged, followed by the dull creak of settling bodies, before I pushed back the curtain to get a look at where they were. Their voices were coming from a box closest to the movie screen.

These were the daytime guards of whichever vampires were hiding beneath the theater. Given what I’d learned from Brigit, and how it fit with my own assessment, I also believed they were working for Marcus. I didn’t recognize any of their voices from the brawl at the Chameleon, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been there.

I surveyed the main floor of the theater to make sure I hadn’t missed any guards. Since I was here to take Peyton alive, I didn’t want there to be unnecessary casualties. There were plenty of ways to render a man useless aside from killing him, and I was proficient in most of them. I may have been a killer, but none of the guards had done anything to warrant being murdered.

If I could find Peyton and get in touch with one of the daytime servants of the council, this whole ordeal could be finished without any bloodshed.

Trying to take on three werewolves at the same time wasn’t an ideal option if I wanted to finish out the day without a body count. I needed to split them up and hope one of them would tell me where to find Peyton. It might take a little persuasion, but broken fingers healed. So did bullet wounds.

I slipped away from the curtain and back into the lobby. The lethargy of day was wearing off as a wave of adrenaline overcame me. I spotted the sign for
Second Balcony and Left Boxes
and stole towards it in the shadows of the unlit room.

I’d never been more aware of my wolf than when I stalked down the hallway towards the sound of their voices. I ducked into the box one over from theirs and stayed low to the ground. Snippets of their conversation were now audible, and I sat and listened, waiting for a good moment to make my move.

“Christ, Jackson, chill out. You’re making me all antsy.”

“Sorry.” The voice sounded young and strained with worry. “It’s just, I mean, this is creepy, isn’t it?”

“Creepy?” The man who responded gave the word a mocking tone. “What’s so fucking creepy?”

“Knowing there are vampires, like, below us?”

“Get a grip, kid. Boogeyman ain’t gonna get you.”

One of them let out a huff of air, and the trio fell into silence. Muffled chewing noises and the squeak of Styrofoam were the only sounds in the theater.

Staying low to the ground, I used my heel to drag a heavy metal bar towards me. It looked to be the post that once held a bank of seats in place, judging by the discolored seat-shaped rectangle on the floor around it. The bar rolled closer with the slightest metallic ringing, but still I held my breath and froze.

Their munching continued.

I picked up the bar, and when I heard one of them clear his throat, I shuttled the post over the edge of the box. The fall seemed to last an eternity before the clatter of metal meeting a concrete floor reverberated through the room, bouncing off the ceiling and back into the wings.

“What the…?” Chair legs squealed on the floor of the guards’ booth. “Jackson, stay here and keep an eye out. Come on, Al.”

Two of the guards stomped down the stairs back to the lobby. Once I could hear them below, I slipped out of the box and into the one next door. Before the young werewolf could call out, I clamped my hand over his mouth and dragged him to the floor.

“Shhh,” I warned. My gun was drawn and glinting in the dim overhead light of the box. “Don’t make me use this.”

His bright green eyes were wide, and his pulse quickened. He managed to nod against the force of my hand. Jackson was so young it made me sick to have to scare him like this. Sure, he was guarding Alexandre Peyton and probably worked for Marcus Sullivan, but he didn’t look more than twenty years old. I doubted he understood the implications of keeping the company he did.

“Where is Peyton?”

His brows knit together, confusion clouding his features.

“The vampire,” I clarified. “Where is the vampire?”

At that his eyes widened with understanding. He nodded again and mumbled something into my hand.

“If I let you talk, do you promise not to call them?” I held the gun to his temple. “You don’t want to call them.”

His head bobbed, and I lifted my hand one finger at a time, praying he would keep his word.

Jackson let out a whoosh of air and sucked back a breath. “Who are you?” he asked, but to his credit he kept his tone low.

If he didn’t know who I was, then there was a good chance he hadn’t been at the Chameleon. There was hope for this one yet.

“It doesn’t matter.” I pressed the gun harder against the wrinkled skin of his forehead. “Just tell me what I want to know and this won’t get messy.”

His mouth formed a surprised O, but still he didn’t shout for help. The weapon did seem to be distracting him from answering though, so I pulled it away. The entire frame of his body relaxed noticeably. From below I could hear shuffling feet and irritated voices as the men continued to look for the source of the disturbance.

“The coffin room is under the theater. I’ve never seen it, so I don’t know exactly where, but there’s a door behind the curt—”

I covered his mouth with my hand again upon hearing the withdrawing voices of the two other guards. Jackson’s eyes looked huge with terror.

“Who do you work for?” I needed to make this quick.

Lifting my hand enough that he could move his lips, I let him continue. “Work for?” He looked confused.

“Why are you here? Werewolves guarding a vampire doesn’t make sense.”

“We’re not guarding the vampire. We’re here to protect our alpha. He’s guarding the vampire.”

I was pretty sure I knew the answer to my next question already, but I needed to know for sure. “Who’s your alpha, Jackson?”

“Marcus Sullivan.”

“And he’s underground too?”

Jackson nodded. “He and the queen sleep down there.”

“Are there other guards?” Footfalls were echoing upwards. My time was almost up.

“Yes. Six.”

I showed him the gun again. “How many?”

“Six, I swear.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple rising and falling with an exaggerated bob. Male voices were closer now. I couldn’t just leave Jackson to tell them I’d been here, but there was also no way I could take on the other two guards and keep the young wolf subdued.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.” I saw his confusion at the words, but a moment later the butt of my gun connected with his temple, and he was out cold.

For the next part of my plan to work, I needed to be quiet and quick. I hopped onto the edge of the balcony, teetering as I balanced on the thin rail before leaping off and into the box where I’d originally hidden. An instant after I landed I heard one of the other guards swear.

I slipped back into the hallway where one of the guards stood with his back to me. The other was out of sight, but I could hear him trying to revive Jackson. I leaped onto the guard I could see and snaked my arm under his chin, jerking backwards to cut off his air supply. It would have been a perfect sleeper hold if I’d been six inches taller. I’d still be able to knock him out, but it was going to take a little extra elbow grease.

A wheezy moan escaped his lips and his body went slack under mine, tumbling to the floor. The whole process took mere seconds. If I could have left then without dealing with the third guard, I would have been happy to, but I doubted he would just ignore the fact that his two comrades were suddenly out cold.

“Bitch.”

Yup, that’s what I figured.

I got to my feet and squared off against the redheaded guard who was now all that stood between me and the basement.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.

“That’s a pity, because I want to hurt you.”

I stepped backwards, careful to avoid the fallen werewolf who was now snoring on the floor. At the same time, I leveled my gun at the remaining guard. I had no intention of firing it, but he didn’t need to now that. Nothing says
guess what, I’m here
like gunplay.

“If you leave now, nothing will happen to you,” I promised.

He laughed. “The queen should have finished you off when she had the chance.”

Jackson had mentioned Marcus’s queen earlier, and now this wolf seemed to be suggesting she’d had a chance to do me in. I was still wondering who they were talking about since there was no queen in the east, but I was pretty sure his words meant she was the one who almost killed me at the Chameleon.

“I think you’ll find it’s a lot harder to finish me off than you might imagine.”

“We’ll find out.” He lunged for me, but his foot snagged on his fallen friend’s arm. He didn’t fall, but the stagger gave me enough time. I didn’t waste the effort to incapacitate him painlessly. Instead I smashed my gun into the back of his head.