The Lostkind (24 page)

Vincent passed into oblivion before he could hear an answer to that one.

~oo00oo~

Connie felt like she was going mad. She had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, and once she'd decided that something had to be wrong, she kicked herself for wasting so much time. She phoned home, and there was no answer. She phoned Vincent, and the automated voice had told her that either the phone was switched off or not in range. She'd called Gill and was told that he'd left the office on schedule to meet her…

Panicked, she went home as fast as she could. The clothes he'd worn to the office were there, so she knew he must have come home at some point…

She called his cell again, and gotten the same response.

It was two am by the time she'd run out of ideas. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized how panicky she had gotten. She was still wearing the black dress, there were candles surrounding the bed, in preparation for a romantic evening… And he'd vanished.

Changing clothes quickly, she tried to think logically. She started by retracing his steps. He'd clearly gotten home, his most expensive aftershave was on the bathroom counter, and his dinner suit was missing. He'd come home to get ready for their anniversary…

Like most New Yorkers, neither of them owned a car, so he'd be on foot. Vincent wouldn't take the subway to the restaurant, so he'd be looking for a cab… She knew he always walked in the direction of his destination, waving down taxi's as he saw them. In New York, it was faster to flag one down than to call for one directly.

Leaving the apartment, she turned to head toward the restaurant, hoping that she was going the right way.

After a few minutes she saw the flashing lights and suddenly panicked again. There was a crime scene set up two blocks away. It hadn't been there earlier when she left for the restaurant so it must have been recent.

Running for the yellow tape as fast as she could, she pushed through the crowd that had naturally formed. For a city that was supposed to be jaded and ready for anything, there was always a crowd gathered around the scene of an accident.

Or a homicide.

Connie pushed her way through quickly… There was blood all over the pavement, dead bodies covered by sheets...

There were bits and pieces of things she couldn't guess at marked with Police markers, lights set up all over the place, shining on the whole scene...

Connie's eyes focused on a severed arm lying on the pavement. The arm was still clutching a machete.

"Vincent!" She shouted. "Police! Help me please! He's missing!"

She tried to press through the police tape, and found herself stopped by a wall of police officers...

"Let her through." A voice cut through them all. The police officer was older, and had a tone of natural authority that came from experience. He took her by the hand and led her away from the bodies, over toward the police cruiser. "Ma'am, I'm Officer Grey, and I'm in charge of this investigation. You feel you have some information that might help?"

"I… I don't know about that, but my boyfriend is missing. He was supposed to meet me earlier tonight, and he didn't show, and nobody knows where he is, and he would have come this way…" Connie was babbling, and she knew it. Her voice stopped instantly when she saw the phone.

On the ground, a few feet away from the bodies, was a cell phone, left open, with a cracked screen. It was Vincent's. "That's his phone." She said sharply. She didn't recognize her voice.

"Are you sure?" Grey asked her.

"I'm positive. That's his phone." Connie's voice was flat and dull with horror. It wasn't a coincidence. He really was here. He lost his phone in the fight. "Where is he? Where's Vincent?"

"Now don't assume the worst; we haven't found any other bodies..." Grey led her to the phone, practically holding her up. "Has CSU photographed all this?" He called out to someone. Connie didn't see who he was talking to, or what the answer was. She couldn't take her eyes off the phone. She had proof positive that something horrible had happened to the man she loved.

Grey picked up the phone and pushed a few buttons. "Battery's nearly flat…" His voice changed suddenly. "Oh my."

Connie saw the screen. It was cracked but still working, and there was the photo she had sent earlier, of her picking a dress. She flushed, despite the tension of the situation.

Grey closed the phone, and turned to her. "When did you last hear from him?"

"Earlier tonight, about seven. He answered that message, texted me back."

"Are you sure it was him?" Grey asked.

Connie froze, feeling a terrible nausea creeping up. If Vincent had been attacked early, she could have been dressing up for the thugs that attacked him…

Immediately, she shook that thought out of her head. "No. I came this way in my cab when I was on my way to the restaurant. He made it home
after
that, I know it. If he'd been attacked before I sent that photo, I would have seen him."

Grey checked the time on the phone. "That narrows it down. Can you think of anyone who might have had reason to hurt Vincent?"

"No, of course not. If there was someone, he hadn't mentioned it to me." She bit her lip. "And even if there were… where the hell did the severed limbs come from?!"

~oo00oo~

Vincent awoke to a kind of numb lethargy. For a time, he thought that he was back in his bed, and was just taking his time to wake up. He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and fire raced through his limbs.

Memory came back then. The mugging, the pain, the alley, the rain, the cold...

He had no memory after that...

Then he saw The Angel.

It had to be at least thirty feet tall, made of ornate carved stone and marble. It's wings were light blue stained glass, and it was beautiful. It's unmoving form stood at the head of the room, watching over it protectively, as two elaborate ascending staircases curved around it, leading behind those widespread wings.

The blue light behind it shone through the stained glass giving the whole room a blue glow by the ethereal light of an unmoving angel's wings, and Vincent stared at it blankly, his concussed mind wondering where he was for a very long time.

A large figure moved over him; and his half-awake state he was convinced he was dreaming. The figure wore long blue robes and a wide-brimmed hat; and a large full-face mask of a bird. The costume beak extended out from the figure at least two feet; almost touching his face as the cloaked figure ran practiced hands over Vincent's bandages. Vincent breathed in automatically at the proximity; and caught the scent of herbs and medicines. The figure moved out of sight and Vincent went back to staring up at the Angel.

"Where am I?" He whispered, without planning or thought.

"The Chapel." A warm feminine voice responded. "At least, that's what we call it. It's the oldest part of the Underground. Over the decades, we found other ways in and out, and we stopped using this one... It's something of a shrine for us, for all the Lostkind that need comfort and protection and healing."

"I know that voice." Vincent smiled at last and rolled his head a little to the left.

Sure enough, Yasi was sitting there, with her feet up on the end of his cot. It had been two years since he'd seen her last, and she hadn't changed much.

"Hey." He slurred.

Yasi grinned. "Hey yourself." She leaned over and brushed her fingers over his forehead; and Vincent was suddenly made aware of more bandages around his head. "What the hell did you get into the middle of Vincent?"

Vincent passed out again.

~oo00oo~

In the early hours, just before dawn, the downstairs door buzzed, and Connie threw herself out of her chair to answer it. "Hello?"

"Connie it's me." Owen's voice called back. "Can I come up?"

Connie let him in. Owen was more Vincent's friend than hers, but she was glad to have familiar faces around. Her family lived out of town, and would take a while to get to her; and Gill was probably still too hungover to have got the message…

She opened the door for Owen and he came in, full of concern. "Connie, are you okay?" He said first thing, gentle and worried for her.

She shrugged helplessly. "I'm fine… I just need to know where he is."

"So you haven't heard from him?" Owen looked around the room like he expected to find Vincent under the couch.

"No." Connie shook her head. "Have you?" She knew it was a pointless gesture, but it was about the only thing left she could try.

"Not since last night." Owen said. "Officer Grey tells me you were able to identify his phone."

"Yeah. It was at the…" Connie stopped short. "Officer Grey? The cop in charge? He spoke to you?"

Owen nodded. "I asked him to keep me updated… see who got involved. Connie, where did Vincent go?"

Connie's head was spinning, trying to keep up. "I… I don't…" She blinked suddenly, forcing herself to think. "Huh. I guess this is what going crazy feels like."

Owen's head tilted. "What do you mean?"

"Officer Grey spoke to you before three am, and you came straight here?" Connie challenged, feeling nervous for a reason she couldn't immediately place. "That doesn't seem right to me. So either I'm going nuts, or there's something else."

Owen met her gaze. The concern dropped away from his face, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Clever girl." He commented.

Getting her act together, she turned on Owen viciously. "What the hell is going on here?!" She demanded. "What the hell do you mean,
you
asked
him
to keep you updated?!"

"Connie, do you know where Vincent is?" Owen pressed, cold and lethal.

"No! If I knew, I'd be there with him!" Connie shouted, her fingers gripped the first thing she touched on the table behind her, a hardcover book. "Now it's your turn. Talk!"

Owen studied her face for a moment. "I believe you." He decided finally. "I called around to the hospitals; and a few morgues. They don't have him… Which means there's only one place he could be."

Despite that, Connie felt herself tense slightly further. "Where?"

"A very dangerous place Connie." Owen told her, drifting back toward the door. "A place where there is no law, and nobody sees."

"Quit the fortune cookie crap Owen, if you know something, then you have to-"

SMASH!

Her windows exploded inward, and she ducked automatically. Despite the fact that they were on the third floor, the apartment was suddenly invaded. Connie looked up from the floor at them, and felt her stomach drop. There were three of them, dressed in trenchcoats and leathers, with tribal tattoos on their visible skin. They were armed with various close quarters weapons. A short sword which would have been at home in a gladiators arena, a crossbow; a mace...

They were a mixture of New Yorker Chic, and medieval soldiers. They took in the room with a glance, and focused their eyes on Owen. Connie followed their gaze. Owen was suddenly filled with a dangerous energy; practically vibrating with anger. He moved, faster than Connie could follow, something slipping from his sleeve to his fingers.

The three Urban Warriors prepared to defend themselves, but it wasn't a weapon.

It was a dog whistle.

Owen lifted it to his lips and blew hard. Connie didn't hear anything, but it was clear that somebody did, because a millisecond later, her apartment door was ripped off it's hinges, and in boiled another group. They had gray skin that covered their whole bodies, featureless faces, except for huge red goggle-like eyes.

"Riverfolk!" One of the Warriors yelled in horror. "Yasi was right!"

The tallest of the Ninja held out a hand and stepped forward, putting himself between Connie and Owen. "I am Dorcan of the Shinobi. Stand down, and we won't hurt you."

Owen looked to the Riverfolk. "Kill them all." He said coldly, and walked out of the room.

"Protect the package!" Dorcan shouted at his people and all hell broke loose.

The Riverfolk and the Shinobi leaped at each other across her dining table. One of them flipped it up and used it as a barricade, exchanging blows across it. One Riverfolk Warrior caught Dorcan in a full tackle, and slammed him into the wall. The picture-frames fell as the wall crumpled under their combined weight, and Dorcan wasted no time slamming his attacker with two-fisted blows, over and over.

The Shinobi with the gladiator sword took a swipe at the nearest enemy and missed, his target throwing everything he could reach, books, pillows, couch cushions, coffee cups... The Shinobi slashed them all out of the air with his blade, knocking them aside as he methodically moved closer, trying to get within range...

Connie was nearly hyperventilating, wondering how the hell her living room could turn into a warzone so fast at five in the morning. She pressed into the corner of the room, being as small as she could get.

One of the Riverfolk seemed to notice her and aimed a spear-gun. Connie froze, like a small animal about to be run over, when one of the Shinobi jumped in the way, putting his body between her and her attacker. Connie could see the moment of impact on his face, as something speared heavily into his back. Staggering, he pushed Connie toward the hallway, out of the room. She caught a glimpse of the spear sticking out of his back. He had taken the hit for her.