The Endangered (25 page)

He pauses and sips from his glass.

“Striden has made it apparent he has his own agenda. Are we certain he’s responsible for the attack on The Covenant?” He searches us for a response we don’t offer.

“I digress. His followers will continue turning humans, risking exposure in exchange for growth. S&D is an illusion of wealth and power. It’s not us they’re waging a war on; it’s humans. Seven billion in number. Try as they might, the wolves don’t stand a chance. To Striden, eliminating us is just a bonus. He’s deranged, believes he can take over the world. You, Marcus, Atticus, you’ve all come to believe he represents a true threat.

“The only creature Striden is a threat to is himself.

“I’d bet any money Atticus recognized this, but he couldn’t resist a fight. It was in his blood. From the days of the Roman Empire that bore him, he never stopped searching for something to fight for. For over two thousand years, rarely a war passed without his participation. He witnessed more acts of selflessness, more sacrifice, more suffering, more violence than anyone can begin to comprehend, even me. It drove him mad. Compounded with his age…I was not surprised to learn of his passing.”

He looks at the ceiling for a long while. I rub my bullet wound, which is healing nicely but still burns like hell.

“If Adrian was looking for a fight, he’d have gotten his hands dirty. He wasn’t after Striden as much as what Striden was after. Trying to beat him to the punch, so to speak. He almost succeeded.” Catch looks to me, then back to Vega. “From what little we know.”

“I carried a deep admiration and respect for Atticus. But I do not share his thirst for battle, never did. He still fed off the living, too, did you know that? For this reason, Marcus requested he not take up residence at The Covenant. Ironically I think the house you currently use as a base is where Atticus moved to when Marcus and the others pressed him to leave. Marcus is diplomatic; I’m not surprised he fell back in favor with Atticus. Killing humans is no longer acceptable. Technology has made it an unnecessary risk. But to tell a Pureblood he must change his ways… Even I dare not utter such profanity.

“So there you have it. It appears Atticus appointed you as his predecessors and Marcus to oversee your fate. Marcus is another whom I respect but will never understand. I’ve heard rumors of a split Jekyll and Hyde psyche, but the Marcus I know is a philosopher at heart, more suited to play the game of Risk in the safety of his study then to pick up a sword.”

While he has a point, Vega has obviously never met Mr. Hyde. The acts committed by Marcus’s hand make the brutes who worked me over look like children. His actions had driven Adrian away as much as Marcus’s dislike for his thirst. But those implications are merely rumors.

Catch squirms a little in his chair. “Atticus was a Roman?”

Vega shakes his head. “In searching for my own kind, I encountered him in Rome shortly after Augustus’ death in 14 A.D. But that is a story for another time. I am tired and I’m sure you are anxious to return home.”

He stands and motions to the door. We comply, but I hesitate.

“I’m grateful for your hospitality, but I find it hard to believe your claim of ignorance in regards to Striden and his brother.”

Vega maintains the same look of indifference he’d born throughout our meeting. He shows no guilt, no protest, no denial, no anger, nothing.

It must take centuries to master that level of apathy.

“You’re no greater a creature than the roaches that infest this dump. The powers of a Pureblood are wasted in a being like you who stands on the sidelines and pretends to be above it when you’re really just a coward. A deserter.” I am trying hard not to let his dismissive attitude enrage me, but I cannot leave with a polite smile and nod as though everything is fine. When it is so beyond fucked.

Catch takes my arm, tries to lead me out.

“I don’t contest what you’ve stated here today, but I sure as shit won’t stop fighting if only to prove that our efforts are not in vain.”

I resign to Catch’s plea to leave.

“We all have our reasons. When you have survived as many centuries as I have, you stop wasting time over petty conflicts.”

“Petty!” It is Catch’s turn to explode in disgust. “We are at war! Vampires are being wiped out by these mongrels!”

His fist clenches, veins rippling across his sheer skin. Conner appears in the doorway.

“You summoned, sir?” Telecommunication?

“Yes, Conner, please supply them with the address of the building Franco frequented and show them out.”

“Thank you for your time,” Catch manages through gritted teeth.

I hobble out after him.

“Atticus saw great potential in you, Lori.”

I stop, regarding Vega curiously. ‘You holding little powwows? Were you sipping wine with him in the Caribbean? Perhaps enjoying the ocean view?”

He ignores my sarcasm. I begin to exit. Have a thought, turn back.

“Why’d he do it?”

Vega purses his lips. “Time will take us all, Lori. It takes its toll on all of us.”

“Even us immortals?” I quip.

“Especially us immortals. One day you will understand.”

I nod. “I think I’m beginning to.”

“Hopefully, if we meet again, it will be under better circumstances.”

I head down the hall. Conner is handing Catch a piece of paper. I do my best to ignore Conner as I fall in stride with Catch. I fight the urge to sock him as I pass.

“Hey, no hard feelings, huh?”

I spin to meet his eyes. Conner stands about an inch shorter than me. He swallows hard. Catch grips my arm. Down the hall, Vega watches from the doorway of his study. I’ll behave myself.

“If we ever cross paths again, you better be packing more than that .38.”

Catch gives a little tug. I oblige.

“Adrian had one thing right about you two,” Vega calls after.

“Oh yeah?” I say over my shoulder.

“You’re pugilists.”

***

We return to base. Catch barely says two words in the car. I rest my eyes. Finally, when we near the base, he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

‘Whatever Vega’s thugs did. I should have—”

“Stop. Please. Catch. It went down how it went down. We attacked a vampire. We knew the risk we were taking and we chose to take it. Both of us. Don’t you dare blame yourself. I’m the one who carries a stake…”

“We’re too anxious about Striden. Normally I’d’ve done more research on Franco. Maybe discovered we weren’t the only ones tailing him, maybe learned of his ties to Vega. Maybe not.”

“No use speculating.” I take his hand in mine. “No regrets.”

“Yeah, I know. I—Well hell, I felt kinda foolish barging in like I did. Wielding my sword like a bloody crusader.”

“My knight in shining armor.”

“Right out of Monty Python.”

I laugh. It hurts to laugh.

“I can’t believe you called Vega a coward.”

“It wasn’t news to him.”

***

Being that our temporary housing doesn’t have a shower, I do my best to wash up in the bathroom before collapsing on my air mattress’s inviting down comforter. Every time my eyes close I see a flash of light and hear the gun fire a bullet into my leg. Exhausted and traumatized, I keep running the last few hours through my head like a video on continuous loop.

Vega, like Adrian, had said little but implied a lot.

Catch brings over a glass of blood.

“Drink up.”

He sits on the bed, rubbing my back. I roll over, sitting up. I take the glass.

“Marcus and Crina are on their way back. They will want a full report.”        

“Of course they will…” I sigh. “What did you make of Vega’s little speech?” 

“You mean about our efforts being futile?”

I nod.

“Honestly, it scares me. I mean, to think of werewolves openly integrating into society…the chaos that would follow. And I don’t see any scenario where the world would be safer for us. Our efforts to take out the wolves preserves our disguise as well. Could be Vega’s theory holds up. But what if it doesn’t?”

“To put it eloquently, we’re screwed.”

Catch smiles. We lie atop the comforter staring at the ceiling. We hear Marcus and Crina arrive and Catch sits up.

“I’ll bring them up to speed; you get your rest.”

I am still awake processing the night’s events when Catch returns.

“Marcus wants us in New Jersey with the others.”

“Did you tell him about the address we got from Conner?”

I scratch the bandages. Most of my wounds have scabbed over and itch like hell. Catch massages my thigh where the bullet had struck.

“I said we have evidence that they are still in this city, but Marcus says there’s a huge corporate park over the river that demands our full attention.”

“Their supposed headquarters? They confirm Striden’s there?”

Catch shrugs. “Some big biotech campus. The gang’s working on some leads.”

“We’ve been running blind, moving too fast without the intel to support us. Look at the past couple of days. What a mess.”

“True. Our strength has been intelligence. Subtract that and we’re at a huge disadvantage.” Catch pulls the slip of paper from his pocket and smiles.

“But right now we may have the most valuable piece of the puzzle yet.”

‘Look at you getting all riled up.” I poke him. “You’re practically foaming at the mouth.”

He smiles. “So what do you say?”

“I say let ’em go to Jersey. We’re finding out what’s in that building tomorrow.”

“Good luck convincing Marcus. He was furious about the debacle with Vega and his clan. I was just happy to leave with my limbs intact.” He shakes his head, defeated.

“I’ll play up my injuries. Tell him I’m in no shape to take on a pack of rabid beasts.”

“Oh yeah, he’ll buy that,” Catch teases, kissing my neck.

“We’ll just do some recon, a stealth mission. Poke around and see what S&D are hiding in there.”

“Already on it. I’ve got Jiro pulling schematics.”

“Good luck convincing Marcus,” I throw back at him.

Marcus is in a mood. If I had to guess I’d say it had something to do with Vega. He is not pleased by our proposition.

“You killed our best lead and now you want me to grant you permission to stay in the city to investigate some building one of Vega’s goons met Striden at?”

“With Franco, I didn’t have a choice. He nearly killed Catch.”

Catch is trying his best to blend in with the wall.

“Catch…Catch is a pro. He—” Marcus shakes his head. “We don’t kill our own kind. You are lucky Vega returned you in one piece…Perhaps you two should not be paired in the field. Distractions are risks. I should’ve known better.”

“We work great together, Marcus,” Catch protests. “And you know it.”

“Do I now? Should I use yesterday as an example?”

“Vega’s man gave us this address. Franco was doing business here with the wolves. Yes, it went bloodier than we wanted, but in the end we got what we came for. We need to know what they’re up to.” I do my best to shift focus from us to them.

“We have real, viable leads to pursue,” Marcus groans. “You really think Vega’s underlings can be trusted as a reliable source?”

You tell me. This isn’t about Striden. There are some underlying trust issues between Marcus and Vega.

“Jiro confirmed Deacon’s name is on the lease. I think we’d be foolish not to follow up, see what’s inside,” Catch asserts.

“Fine. You have one night. One night to turn up solid evidence.”

“I’ll go with her.”

“Against my better judgment,” Marcus relents.

“Thank you.”

“But I need Xan and Jiro’s full attention on Jersey, so Crina will stay and be your eyes and ears with the remaining equipment.”

“That works.”

“It better. You both owe me big for this. I needed all three of you in Jersey tonight.”

Catch and I start to leave. Crina appears in the doorway.

“You two causing trouble again?” She smirks.

Catch mimics her expression as he moves past her through the doorway.

“Crina, you’re on point with them tonight. Make sure we don’t have a repeat of the recent outings. And Lori—” Marcus stops me as I try to slip out after Catch.

“Yes?”

“Since you’ve got such strong intuition on this, tell me, what do your instincts expect to find?”

I pull Adrian’s papers from my back pocket and hold them up.

“Answers.”

Chapter 30

The GPS beeps. We are closer than I thought. I stand on a rooftop and pull the device from my pocket.

Catch peers at it over my shoulder.

“Two buildings over.” We both raise our gaze to meet the tallest of the surrounding skyscrapers.

“That’s the one.” I point.

“Figures.”

Catch jumps to the neighboring building, scrambling to the edge closest to our target, staying low. He pulls out his scope and scans the area.

A couple minutes later he raises his hand to signal me over. Coast is clear.

The summer night is masked by a brisk autumn breeze. We are heavily equipped with all the James Bond gadgets we could muster.

And a few weapons. Just in case.

We can’t get a complete view of the rooftop from any of its diminutive neighbors, but we spot a couple cameras around the entrances. The building seems to have a fair amount of security in place. We monitor the building for nearly an hour and see no one come or go. The windows are all dark. Our surveillance reveals that most of them have been painted opaque.

“Hey Crina, all quiet over here, think the building’s empty,” Catch reports into his comm. “You seeing any red flags or are we good to enter?”

“Their cameras aren’t working. I don’t have eyes inside. So if you go in, exercise caution. There’s a parking garage underground and stairs leading to the roof. Either should do the trick.”

“You up for a little B&E?” Catch turns to me, flashing that irresistible smile.

“Always.”

I’d recovered nicely from last night’s assault. I wrapped my leg as a precaution, but feel nearly a hundred percent. Catch lost his limp and is behaving more like the courageous soldier I remember.

It takes some serious momentum, but we manage to land on the roof with a running leap from the tallest neighboring building. The maintenance door is easy to locate. Coast clear, we move for the door.

“Crina, we’re on the roof. About to enter the building.” Catch presses his comm.

“Okay, I’ve managed to pull the electrical grid for the block. Just give the word and I can kill it.”

“Any floor plans?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

Catch shrugs and moves for the door.

“Guess we have to do it the old fashioned way.”

Suddenly the door springs open. We are only a few feet away and we both leap back with a start. Three men with crossbows surround us, followed by two wolves. We immediately engage.

A whirlwind of fangs and fur.

Catch deflects arrows skillfully with his sword. Strikes back. Heads roll. I concentrate my gunfire at the nearest beast. He pins me to the hard stucco rooftop before I can get a clean shot off. I manage to interlock my legs with the wolf’s hind quarters and knock him off balance. I empty the clip into his chest.

I toss his body at his rabid, charging friend. This provides the precious seconds needed to reload. I manage one head shot just as an arrow pierces the back of my knee. It buckles and I go down onto my good one, sliding the cartridge of silver bullets from my boot and turning to face my attacker. He is crouched by a raised vent a few yards back. I level my aim, but don’t get a chance to retaliate.

Catch comes across the roof, flies over the vent, and plants his sword at the base of his neck. There is a cry and a snap.

Something strikes me on the side of the head. The force knocks me sideways. The sky blurs black. When my focus returns, there are claws gripping my neck, piercing my flesh. I squeeze my right hand where my gun had resided. Empty. The air whooshes past; the claws release.

The wolf hurls me across the roof. Momentum keeps me rolling until I reach the edge and gravity takes over.

Catch runs to where he’d seen me disappear.

“Lori!”

Clinging to a concrete ledge several feet down, I use every inch of strength to push my body upward. The partially raised masonry gives me something, albeit minimal, to grasp. Blood streams down the side of my arm. The arrow is still stuck in my knee. I realize this as I risk a glimpse below to confirm my fears. Easily twenty stories.

The fall will test the limits of my immortality. My eyes look up as Catch appears.

“Hang on.” Catch presses his body firmly against the roof. His extended arm is well shy of my reach. He gestures for me to jump.

“It’s okay. I can climb up.” My voice is shaky.

I grab the ledge above my head and pull myself toward him. Our fingers touch briefly, but slip. I reaffirm my grip on the narrow strip of reinforced concrete that lines the building and try once again.

“Come on, I almost have you,” Catch grunts and strains.

The molding crumbles as I kick at the siding with my boots. I extend my hand as far as I can and finally make contact with Catch. His strength courses through my body as his hand squeezes mine.

But his face is sheer agony. My mouth is agape at the arrow protruding from his chest. Our wide eyes lock and he knows he is done.

“Love…” Catch utters despondently as his body disintegrates into dust.

There are no more fingers to grip.

I watch the sky cloud with his remnants.

My head turn downward, letting the ash drop from my face. His sword tumbles to the ground below.

***

Crina parks her bike across the street. She arrives on the scene just in time to witness the horror above unfold. With relief she watches Lori pull herself up, driven by fury. She dismounts her bike and runs to Catch’s sword, which had skewered the sidewalk upon impact. She yanks it free and charges into Striden’s building. The lobby meets her with anticlimactic silence. She eyes the bank of elevators. The indicator for the 17th floor lights the way. She sprints up the stairwell.

***

Deacon stands on the opposing roof, his discharged crossbow still aimed where Catch’s back used to be. He smiles and waits to see if Lori will emerge. After a moment, satisfied, he relaxes his stance.

“Now that’s how it’s done.” Deacon chucks the crossbow into the gut of his comrade. “Come on, Gavin, Striden’s waiting.”

He disappears inside. Gavin regains composure, shoulders the crossbow, and eyes the damage. A roof blanketed in bodies. Shaking his head, he follows Deacon into the building.

***

I am not your hero.

I am the embodiment of hatred, lust, greed, fury, and envy.

Every repulsive trait, every inherent desire repressed, all that is disgraceful and desecrating: you see in me.

I am the intangible and undeniable craving buried inside yourself that you try to ignore.

But always know deep down it’s there.

And it’s hungry.

I am not your hero.

I am mine.

Paralyzed momentarily by the scene before me. Catch’s ashes hang in the atmosphere, engulfing me, seemingly impervious to gravity. I turn my head away and watch blindly as his ashes fall from my face. His sword slices the air in silence, piercing the sidewalk below.

My grip slips and I begin to fall. My feet hang lifeless.

Then the world falls away into dark sinister obscurity.

And something snaps.

My claws grasp at the ledge and the toe of my boot catch a crevice. I shoot my body in an upward arch as if propelled by an unknown force.

I fling my body over the roof edge, feet just making the landing. I spring across to the closing door.

The screams inside the stairwell are deafening.

Maybe that’s why I don’t hear them.

I am a fever of grief and rage.

And he is in my way.

The cries stop as the crunching persists.

Bones shatter and blood spews from the open wound in his back.

Then there is silence.

I move quickly past the corpse, stepping on and breaking his crossbow as I do.

He is not my only target. There are many to blame.

There isn’t enough blood on my hands.

***

Crina spins with a start as I burst through the stairwell door. If her presence surprises me, my expression doesn’t show it. I glance around. Crina eyes my fist, still clenched around Gavin’s heart.

Blood runs down my arm and drips on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” My eyes lock on Catch’s sword.

Crina points to the comm in her ear. “Sounded like you could use some backup. Frankly, I was already halfway here when I heard you two engage. Jiro managed to get the camera feeds from this building online and we saw Deacon organizing his men.”

She holds out Catch’s sword. “Lori, I saw what happened on the roof. I’m sorry.” She offers it apologetically to me. “Wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

I reluctantly accept it.

She points down the hall. “Are you seeing this? I mean, seriously. Damn. Look at this place. Lab equipment I was expecting; lab rats I was not prepared for.”

The hallway contains numerous cells. None of which are empty.

Bodies: some human, some wolf, some indiscernible.

“They’re testing the virus here. From what I’ve seen, most of the floors are designed for the same purposes.”

Stark white corridors of padded walls and Plexiglas.

And nothing alive on either side.

We are standing amid the answers we’d sought for so long.

And I want no part of it.

The heart drops from my hand and hits the floor with a sickening thud.

Some people handle grief well.

I am not one of those people.

The elevator pings and I dart for its doors.

***

With the help of Catch’s sword I pry open the elevator doors. Crina joins me.

I inspect the shaft, debate jumping onto the descending elevator.

Crina reads my mind.

“Don’t jump; they’re armed,” she protests.

I point to the stairs. “Cut them off.”

I tighten my grip on Catch’s sword; it’s thick, silver-plated steel weighs heavy in my hand.

With one broad stroke, it slices cleanly through the wiring, dismembering the elevator from its vital assets of pulleys and cords. I watch with satisfaction as the elevator car plummets to the ground.

Crina reaches the lobby floor and runs over to the elevator, gun in hand. She is greeted with the sound of screeching metal followed by a crash and rumbling that shake the building. She makes for the parking garage below.

Three werewolves crawl out from the elevator car, which is now crushed to half its size. The roof is caved in, but they manage to wriggle out. Crina charges toward them from the far end of the garage. Deacon is first on his feet to greet her as she charges them, gun blasting.

I ride the second elevator down to the garage. When the doors open I lunge at the first sight of fur. The wolf spins around and meets my blade with his left eye.

He retreats, wrenching his head to free it from the blade. The next strike catches him between his shoulder blades and pierces the heart.

Deacon manages to avoid Crina’s fire by taking cover behind a car. Crina mounts it, aiming for his head.

He has other plans.

Deacon grabs the side of the vehicle and flips it on her; she jumps backward. She continues firing, having managed to land on her feet. Deacon muscles the car sideways, shielding her gunfire as he shoves it into the wall, sandwiching Crina in the process.

She squirms to free herself. The gun has fallen in her attempt to block the car’s impact and she pushes with all her might to resist his force.

Another wolf throws me off the body of his cohort and into a cement column, causing the second concussion of the night.

When I shake my head clear, I glimpse a steel bar as it comes down on my side. Pressed against a truck, I try to regain my balance. The wolf presses the bar against my chest and curves its ends into the truck; penetrating its doors and effectively pinning me.

He has me trapped when I hear a voice behind him call him off. He quickly retreats. Deacon, reverting to human form, walksover to face me. I recognize Striden’s right-hand man from the hotel basement.

“Good thing you don’t need to breathe,” Deacon jests, pressing his face close to mine.

Well over 6’ and all muscle, Deacon’s presence is intimidating even in human form. A stretch limo pulls up and he nods to his comrade. The wolf regresses to his human form and leaps into the waiting limo.

“You must be Deacon.” I struggle to free my arms.

“My reputation precedes me.” He grins. “As much as I’d like to stay and have it out, sadly we’re out of time.” Deacon gives the bar one final shove and makes for the limo. The tires squeal as it speeds off.

I wriggle my arm free and try hoisting myself up over the bar.

“Crina! You all right?”