CW: violence, blood/gore, and a whole lot of human rights violations.
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 12
Into Hell
There were only a small handful of hours of daylight remaining, yet the darkening clouds above made it seem like the sun would be setting early this afternoon. Dracula could not shake the sense of trepidation settling in his chest as he looked out over the factory district from his present location on a hill, though the devil knew how hard he had tried. He could hear the other alliance members readying themselves over by the van strategically hidden in the trees, their hushed voices doing nothing for his present agitation.
This entire situation had trap written all over it.
Taking on the task before them at this late hour of the day, and with the oncoming storm – it was folly.
"Mr. Leinhart, do you have what you need?" he heard his intended inquire from behind him and he turned just slightly to look back at her. Francesca was donning her usual black this afternoon, every inch of flesh covered save her hands, face, and throat. She had just finished sheathing a knife to her person – one of many as far as he could tell – as she started to approach.
As it often did, her presence proved to soothe the greater part of his anxiety and he managed a quiet exhale, steadying his nerves.
"I don't require much," he admitted, returning his gaze to the buildings beyond.
They were in the company of others and he couldn't risk looking at her too long without raising unwanted suspicion. It was quite the task, however, as her pants and blouse clung to her curves like a second skin and had they been alone, he would have reveled in her appearance a little more openly. But now was not an appropriate time for such distractions; although her seeking him out was certain to raise an eyebrow or two – Lyra Kennedy's in particular. He could sense that belligerent redhead's stare with his back turned and it made the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.
"Here," Frankie said, offering him one of her blades. "On the off chance that changes."
"Thank you," and he accepted the gift, though he already knew the likelihood of having to use it was minuscule at best. She took her place at his side and surveyed the scene with a guarded expression.
"Am I the only one not feeling good about this?" she asked him quietly, looking up in his direction for just a moment.
Gratified that she was trusting him with her concerns and pleased with her wisdom in appreciating the danger before them, unlike her brother with the hero-complex, he responded with candor.
"If only you were," he replied, voice equally low. "With Aldrick as a known associate of the Spider, and both men being puppets of Marcus and the council... I must confess, this entire enterprise feels more like a honey baited trap for your well-intentioned band of heroes back there than anything else."
"That was the same conclusion I came to last night after our meeting adjourned. I can't help but wonder now if the evidence that anonymous tipper sent in was intended to lure us from the start. What are your thoughts?"
"I don't think we were beguiled in that regard, but perhaps our Good Samaritan never took in the greater picture. We know this venture was sanctioned by Marcus – I have no doubt of that. For all of that man's faults, he is still dangerously clever. This rock and a hard place situation is exactly the sort of thing he'd orchestrate."
"So it is very possible that Augustine knew we'd find out about this," she translated. "That we'd be forced into this moral dilemma of the needs of the few vs. that of the many. This really could be a trap."
"I'd be surprised if it wasn't at this point."
"Did you say as much to Rémy? You have more clout with him than I do sometimes. I mean, dealing with the likes of Basilio is one thing, but if Augustine's manages to identify us…"
"I told him this morning of my concerns before I left Carmen's, but I had no proof to offer him. Only instincts," he admitted, finally returning her gaze. "I'll admit I had hoped that my clout, as you call it, would be sufficient in this situation, but it proved otherwise. Your brother is on a warpath, Miss Chase. He's determined to see this through, with or without our support. In his mind, if we can successfully disengage the threat before us, the rewards will outweigh any cost we might incur. I can only hope that his optimism proves the victor by the time our job is done."
"Well… that certainly doesn't make me feel any better," Frankie declared with a bit of a good-humored sigh, absently fixing the cuff of the long sleeve of her fitted blouse.
He smiled sympathetically.
"Would you prefer I lie to you?"
"No, of course not," she answered thoughtfully, though her eyes had yet to return to his. "I appreciate you being forthright. I'd much rather know what to anticipate instead of going in blind."
"Your brother isn't going in completely blind."
"I suppose. But he has tunnel vision, which is almost just as bad."
There was a natural pause in the conversation before Dracula changed the topic.
"Miss Chase, might I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Why aren't you leading this band of revolutionaries?"
She laughed quietly at that, but he persisted.
"I'm completely serious."
"I know you are. That's what makes it so amusing. I'm no leader. I never have been. I'm much better at running solo than I am when it comes to blazing a trail for others in these sort of situations. The responsibility is daunting."
"True, but I think if you asked them to, this little army of misfits would follow you anywhere," he replied with a ghost of a smile. "You certainly have more influence than your brother does. I distinctly recall it was you who played the role of envoy when we originally began to engage the lycans in our activities."
"Isabella respects Rémy's authority just as much as she respects me."
"Hmm… if that was the case, I wonder then why the werewolves chose to attend this little party of ours after being disinvited from it."
"What?"
She followed the direction of his gaze to the district down below to find that he had been watching a small pack of beasts moving as one over the wall and between the factories, expertly disengaging the individuals on patrol.
Frankie muttered an oath before turning to look back at her brother. "Rémy, I thought I told you I didn't want the wolves involved?"
"You did. I talked to Tristan this morning."
She sent him a sidelong glare and he crumbled immediately.
"Okay, fine. I texted him. But the point is I told him that they weren't needed! I did my job! It's not my fault your ex is an alpha and has a hard time taking no for an… Frankie? Frankie!" but she was already headed down the hill in haste.
Lyra was the first to follow after her, then Carmen and Danny and a small handful of others who had been brought in. Dracula, meanwhile, continued to wait patiently for his future brother-in-law, his expression carefully masking the amusement he felt at the man's expense.
"I did tell him not to come," Rémy insisted, sounding defeated.
"What's done is done," was the only solace Vladislaus offered the man.
"Yeah, I know. I just hope this is the only hiccup of the evening, or Frankie is never going to let me hear the end of it."
The gentlemen were quick to locate the others again, finding them all congregating down the narrow alley between a pair of buildings. Frankie and Tristan were in heated discussion, seemingly oblivious to their audience.
"Then if you got Rémy's message, why are you still here? I don't need you guys on Augustine's radar any more than you already are, Tristan. This stupid alpha bullshit of yours is going to get someone killed."
"It was not your decision to make," the werewolf prince snapped back at her, getting in her face a little. "Besides, Augustine would never be stupid enough to challenge us outright, and even if he did, we would handle it as we have always done."
"But there is more at stake than just the lives of those in the pack," she replied with an underlying meaning in her tone that confused Dracula.
"You don't need to remind me," Tristan continued, opening his mouth as if he meant to elaborate, but he wavered for a moment when he realized that Mr. Leinhart had just joined them. The anger in the lycan's expression softened a little when he recalled whose future wife he had chosen to go toe-to-toe with and not desiring for any further conflict than was necessary, he decided to back down – though it was clear he didn't want to. "The fact of the matter is, Francesca, you have us whether you want us or not."
"I never said I didn't want you here," she replied, so distracted by their conversation that she had momentarily forgotten that the others were all listening. "But if something goes wrong…"
"Nothing will go wrong," Rémy interrupted as he stepped forward. "We're already ahead of schedule, thanks to Tristan and his men," and he nodded his head toward the four other werewolves that stood close by before offering his hand to Raul, Lyra's ex-lover, in greeting. "You'll forgive my sister's ingratitude, but I, for one, am glad you're here. The more hands we have, the quicker we can get this done."
Frankie's glare in her brother's direction was aptly ignored as Rémy turned his attention to the prince.
"I don't say this often, Tristan, but thank you for ignoring my earlier message."
"I figured you weren't the one behind the idea," and both men glanced over at Frankie, who made no efforts to hide her displeasure. "And while I appreciate the concern, like I said before… it's unwarranted."
"I agree," Rémy replied and the two men shook hands. "Shall we proceed?"
"By all means – lead the way."
As the others followed after their fearless leader, Frankie lingered behind for just a moment, her furrowed brows relaxing when Lyra moved to her side, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"You going to be okay?"
Frankie allowed herself to dispel the angry breath she had been holding in. Sending an appreciative look to her friend, her eyes then found Vlad's.
"I don't like this," she said, and while he appeared sympathetic to her plight, he said nothing, allowing Lyra the courtesy of responding.
"I know. But they're here now and there's not much we can do about that. Let's just get this over with and get home," the redhead offered, and the three picked up the rear of the small group.
They followed after Rémy as he led them through the factory district. The narrow path was walled with lines of enormous and silent buildings, their windows dark and the machinery they housed absolutely silent – save one. Near the center stood an old warehouse of brick and mortar, large chimneystacks devoid of anything save that familiar metallic smell of blood. The building hummed quietly in the still of the afternoon like a slumbering giant, the overcast sky providing an almost ominous feel as they approached, remaining on high alert.
The previously neutralized guard, which had been positioned outside the main door on sentry, was unconscious on the ground – the effective work of one of the werewolves. From the steady beating of his heart, Frankie could discern that he was indeed human – perhaps forty years of age. The blunt hit his skull had taken against the wall had left his blood to linger on the old brickwork, now pooling slightly from his brow onto the ground that cradled his head. He'd be unconscious for a couple of hours easily, and the pain that would come with cognizance would be cruel and unforgiving – a small price to pay, however. She was grateful Tristan's men had at least had the courtesy to leave the human alive.
She only hoped that the rest of her friends would emerge from this darkened building unscathed.
Frankie was the last to enter, her undead eyes adjusting to the darkness as Danny went in search of a light-switch. The stench of blood was much stronger within these walls, but there was also a sickly sweetness in the air, accompanied by an underlying musk of flesh and machine. With her vampire vision, she could see the outlines of bodies lining the space beyond, but there was no discernible life in this room that she could sense – no new presences she didn't already recognize.
"Think I found the power," Danny's voice came on over the radio strapped to Carmen's hip. "Standby."
A few seconds later, there was a click and then a loud drone of energy that pulsated through the chamber. The bulbs above flickered and then beamed, flooding the area with a fluorescent light as the shadows shrank and the horror stood illuminated in stark color.
Carmen uttered an oath in her native Castilian, habitually crossing herself despite the irony as the rest all looked on in rapt astonishment.
It was Dracula, however, who appeared more enraged than disgusted.
Within the main room of the factory were rows upon rows of people – men, women… children. The majority of them were dhampirs – or rather shells of dhampirs, appearing to be in a vegetable state, unconscious, unresponsive… as if their souls had passed on long ago and it was the machines keeping their bodies alive. They were propped up within the blood extraction machines, tubes strategically injected and taped down in the areas where major arteries and veins would be – carotid, auxiliary, iliac, femoral.
It was as if they had been put on grotesque display – heads shaved and flesh left bare.
From what could be discerned on the machine nearest, these infected individuals were routinely drained within an inch of their lives before their bodies were pumped full of a regenerative protein that would encourage an accelerated creation of new red blood cells which were immediately tainted by the virus that had already claimed a hold on their system. Scientifically speaking, it was rather a remarkable piece of ingenuity that they were witnessing.
But the moral implications…
"This is barbaric," Raul announced, studying one of the seemingly lifeless victims as Lyra approached. "Draining is one thing, but to regenerate and then bleed them dry over and over again…"
"Are any of them actually alive?" Rémy asked as he started to move along one of the aisles.
"For their sakes, I hope not," one of the other werewolves replied.
"Find a way to turn off the machine," Carmen called out to the small control room on the second level where Danny was still located. "Let's get these poor souls out of here. Put the dead in the center of the room. We'll have to burn the bodies. Holler out if there are any survivors."
When the machines were turned off, an uneasy silence flooded over the room, a stillness that sent the hairs on the back of Frankie's neck to rise, her flesh prickling.
Having remained unmoved from her original spot by the door, she watched as the others went to work, removing blood-filled tubes and dismounting bodies. Danny was quick to return to the group to be of assistance, but Frankie couldn't seem to bring herself to move, rooted to the spot as memories briefly flashed before her eyes –
A darkened dungeon.
The cold burn of silver-casted chains about her wrists, ankles, and throat.
A great shadow drowning out the light from the hall.
The smell of blood, accompanied by a graduating weariness.
The stench of her own fear.
Frankie shuddered visibly, forcefully suppressing the memory and the disquieting grumble of her inner demon with a shake of her head before she straightened her spine, knowing that Lyra was watching her.
You okay? her friend's eyes seem to ask.
Frankie nodded, but it was a lie. She was covered with emotion, quicksilver in the mold, shaping and forming her thoughts in an erratic pattern as she struggled against the bubbling onset of PTSD. It took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves before she finally stepped forward.
It had started to rain outside, the storm finally breaking and filling the uncomfortable silence with the steady sound of a shower. The subtle distraction from her own unease gave Frankie the chance to better examine one of the machines before her, studying from a distance as she followed the trail of tubing to a series of thin, cylindrical pipes that crawled upwards to the heavens like ivy. They appeared to join together in a single pipeline that ran along the ceiling towards the back of the warehouse.
She followed it quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on its path. It led her away from her friends and into a more poorly lit corner of the room, her journey momentarily disrupted when she noticed one of the extraction pods was curiously void of a host.
"Rémy?" she called out, noting the blood trail on the floor in front of the machine. "I think we have a live one!"
"Really? You sure?"
"Yes – quite sure," she insisted as her brother approached.
Vlad joined them next, although his attention was fixed on the ceiling above. Apparently he and Frankie had been of the same mind, wondering where the extracted blood was being stored.
The trio all exchanged a series of looks before their gazes moved in the same direction the trail of blood and the pipes above seemed to move – a sealed door a few yards off, the light above it flickering.
"Cover me."
Rémy began to move forward, raising the assault rifle strapped to his person so the barrel now pointed in front of him as he approached the door. Frankie and Dracula did as instructed, following close behind with weapons in hand as their eyes scanned the surrounding area. Rémy placed his hand on the handle of the door, turning the knob and pushing in one single motion.
The room beyond was dark, save a series of red light bulbs, which cast an eerie glow in the shadows. Reaching with her hand in search of a light switch, Frankie managed to find one and with a flick, the room was illuminated – though only in part, but enough to see more clearly. Lining the walls were six enormous metal vats of blood, three on each side. There was a control panel on the opposite end of the room with a small docking station just beyond.
But their surroundings were the last thing they had taken in, for in the center of the room lied a figure, naked and bleeding out. Frankie recognized that golden hair anywhere.
"Oh my God, Lily!" Rémy shouted, handing his gun to his sister abruptly before crossing the great distance with inhuman speed. "Lily? Lily… are you alive?"
He cradled his ex's head in his hands as he tried to bring her back to consciousness, calling her name repeatedly and lightly patting her face in an effort to rouse her.
"Carmen! Carmen, I need you!" he shouted, voice echoing in the seemingly empty space as he pulled Lily into his lap and began to struggle with the sleeve of his shirt, pulling it up to free his wrist.
"What is it?" but Carmen didn't need an explanation as she entered the room. The shock and sudden disappointment that flooded her system in a series of conflicting waves rocked her for only a moment before she violently pushed her feelings down. The Spaniard turned to her friend, asking Frankie with her eyes if what she was seeing was real.
Frankie nodded sympathetically but said nothing.
"Carmen, give me your jacket so we can cover her up," Rémy insisted. "Lily… Lily, can you hear me?"
Frankie watched with admiration and a broken heart on her friend's behalf as the woman shed the coat from her own back without hesitation.
"Here," and she draped the garment over Lily's naked body as Rémy bit into his wrist, tearing the flesh just enough so his blood would begin to flow. He positioned it over the blonde's lips in desperation.
Carmen, unable to watch, returned to her standing position.
"Danny, Lyra, Tristan, and Raul – you're needed in here!" she called out, making her way back to the door. "Vlad, do you have those capsules we'll need to destroy this stuff?"
"I've got them," Lyra announced, entering the room with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and the three summoned gentlemen behind her, awaiting further instruction. "Wait, is that Lily?"
"Yes," Frankie confirmed. "Rémy's got that covered. Were there any other survivors?"
"No – the machines were what was keeping most of those folks alive and the small handful that were momentarily responsive when we were getting them down passed on rather quickly once they were freed. It was as if they wanted to go," Tristan explained. "There were a small handful of vamps in there, but they disintegrated the second we got them disconnected. The guys are destroying the remains of the rest of the infected now."
"So that just leaves Lily, then," Carmen announced quietly, and while the words were spoken in an indifferent tone, Lyra and Frankie were not oblivious to their friend's suffering. One could easily imagine what she was thinking in that moment – how conflicting it all felt.
"So wait, who unmounted her?" Raul asked. "If she's a vamp, shouldn't she be dead?"
"Maybe she was recently put on?" Lyra offered.
"I don't care – just… we'll deal with her later. You five with me to take care of the hemo. Danny – locate the switch that will let us flush the system. Let's get this over with so we can get the hell out of here before anyone else's exes start showing up," Carmen insisted, taking the bag from Lyra so she could open it and hand out the capsules.
There was an awkward exchange of glances between Lyra and Raul, and then Frankie and Tristan, but the small group was quick to disperse in accordance to the Spaniard's instructions. Everyone took their designated positions as they awaited Danny's signal.
When it was given, the capsules were dumped into the open vats of blood, the chemical reaction immediate as the infected blood began bubble and then froth white, heat slowly rising from the large drums. As they waited for the tablets to finish their work, Carmen, Danny, Lyra, and Raul returned to the center of the room where the others from the area beyond had gathered to see if they could be of any assistance to Rémy. Frankie, Tristan, and Vlad, on the other hand, all exchanged an awkward series of hard to read expressions before slowly dispersing into the shadows as if to explore the remainder of the room.
Meanwhile, the eldest Chase sibling was still struggling to revive Lily.
It took more blood than he had anticipated, but at last, the blonde began to respond to his offering, eyes fluttering as she weakly turned her mouth away from his wrist.
"Lily? Thank God, you're still alive!"
"Rémy? Rémy… no…" the woman muttered, lifting her hand with much difficulty so she could push his arm away from her. "No…"
"Don't be silly. You're weak, you need blood."
"Blood can't save me now," she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open and on his face.
"What do you mean?" he asked, still holding her in his arms.
"I'm infected."
The others all took cautious steps back as if out of instinct, but Rémy continued to cradle her, though the defeat in his eyes was prevalent.
"We can save you," he insisted. "We can find a cure."
"You have to leave. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."
"I'm not leaving without you."
"Rémy…" Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Rémy, run…"
A glowing red dot suddenly appeared over his chest and Frankie felt her heart seize. She opened her mouth to scream, but Carmen had beaten her to it.
"NO!"
Lily, with one final surge of strength, managed to lift herself up in Rémy's arms before a shot was fired. The bullet, which had clearly been intended for him, instead blew a gory hole through her back, slicing through bone and flesh until it destroyed her undead heart and finally found a home in the first few layers of the man's Kevlar vest.
Rémy watched in horror as Lily disintegrated before his eyes, meeting true death with her name on his lips until she was nothing more than blood, ash, and bone. He rose to his feet quickly before a second shot was fired, missing his foot by half an inch. The others were quick to find cover, while Frankie, who was still hidden in the shadows beside one of the emptying vats by the wall, had taken a step forward as if to return to her brother's side. But she was stopped by a firm hand that grabbed hold of her upper arm, keeping her in place. She turned to fight back when she realized it was Vlad that had stopped her, his finger quickly falling over her lips to hush her as he motioned with his eyes for her to look above.
She did and was horrified to find dozens of boot-clad soldiers taking their positions on the second and third levels, each heavily armed and faces covered as they silently poured into the room from one of the doors above. She hadn't even heard them come in!
Dracula could sense her growing anxiety as the reality of their situation sank in.
"Save your ammunition, Aldrick. I do believe we've gotten the man's attention," a familiar voice called out from the fourth level of the room and Vlad noticed a faint shiver pass through Frankie's body in recognition.
Dracula's previously shared concerns seemed to be coming to fruition. This had indeed been a trap after all. The presence of the Spider was evidence of that.
Those in the center of the room on the ground floor all raised their eyes upward toward the darkness of the rafters near the ceiling where they found Basilio standing on the fringes of the shadows, accompanied by what appeared to be a group of armed militia surrounding them on the upper levels. The door to the main area of the factory slammed shut abruptly – whether by the wind or by some unseen hand on the other side, but one thing was for certain.
There was no way out.
Aldrick Mieno stepped into the light, situated a level below his master, though still holding a position of higher ground. The man sneered in Rémy's direction, yet there was no humor in his dark eyes.
"You are Rémy Chase, I presume?" the Spider called out, resting his gloved hands in front of him on the railing as he leaned forward a little to get a better look.
"Depends on who's asking."
"Of course!" the man chuckled sarcastically. "We haven't been properly introduced. Aldrick? You'll do the honors, won't you?"
"That isn't necessary. I know who you are," Rémy muttered bitterly, brushing Lily's remains from his person as he straightened, struggling to appear less betrayed than he actually felt.
"I was only striving to be accommodating. There's no need to be hostile."
"No need to be hostile?" Rémy repeated with utter disbelief. "You just tried to kill me!"
"A minor technicality," the Spider drawled with a dark amusement in his eyes. "Besides, I was only protecting my interests – though I see you and your little band of terrorists have been quite efficient in the short amount of time you've had. I'd commend you if I wasn't thoroughly put out."
"The blood you are illegally harvesting was infected," Carmen shouted up at the man, moving to stand at Rémy's right.
"Well, we needed enough samples to do proper testing so we can find a cure."
"Bullshit! We know you're working with Augustine! He created that virus because he wants to wipe us all out!"
"I have no idea where you acquired your information, but you are sorely mistaken," Basilio replied with what could only be described as a disappointed sigh, but no one was buying it, not even Aldrick who started chuckling to himself.
"Sounds like your standard Madame Nemo of Veritas conspiracy theories to me," the man chimed in.
As the heated conversation continued, Frankie and Vlad, meanwhile, had chosen to remain hidden in the shadows, silently counting how many soldiers they were up against.
We need to level the playing field somehow, Dracula heard her voice in his head and he turned to find that she was staring intently at him.
Do you have any suggestions?
Guns are out of the question – will draw too much attention.
I agree. But there are only two of us, Miss Chase, and easily dozens of them from what I can sense. If they were spread further apart, we could neutralize a fair amount before getting caught; but we're in closed quarters and they outnumber us ten to one…
Are you doubting my skill, Mr. Leinhart? The question was delivered with a tone of indignation, but her expression was borderline playful, an almost suggestive look in her eyes as the faintest of smiles curved her lips.
Was she flirting with him?
Although the timing wasn't entirely appropriate, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch at the thought.
I've only ever witnessed your savagery, dragă. Unrestrained violence is easy… perfect control over one's prey is something else entirely.
Frankie's smirk broadened in the face of his challenge, but before she could respond, they were interrupted by the presence of another emerging from the shadows. Tristan and his wolves had apparently managed to slip out of sight when the previous shots had been fired at Rémy, having used the moment of distraction to take cover in the darkness of the room as all eyes had remained on her brother.
The look Francesca was now wearing with the sudden appearance of her ex and his men seemed to scream I told you so, and Dracula had to bite his tongue to keep from looking too smug.
The lycan prince's brows were furrowed in evident frustration.
"Don't even say it," he muttered to her in warning, but his admonition only made the woman's pointed stare worse. "You can gloat later. Right now, all I want are plans of how we're going to get the hell out of this mess unscathed."
"Your faith in my abilities is flattering – if not entirely unrealistic. I'm not a miracle worker," Frankie replied in an equally low voice, hoping the surrounding machinery coupled with the tense discussion between her brother and the enemy would be enough to mask their whispers.
"Oh please – we both know you have at least a half-a-dozen back-up plans in case something like this happened."
"Oh, I absolutely did, but none of those plans involved being locked in a room with the Spider with the barrels of several dozen guns carrying God knows what kind of ammunition all pointed at my brother and closest friends. Plan A through Z are pretty much obsolete right about now…"
"So what do we do?" Raul asked. "We're outnumbered, and they hold the higher ground. We're all sitting ducks down here."
Frankie glanced over at Dracula for some kind of suggestion, but the man said nothing. He merely stood there, silent as the grave and with an expression that could only be described as one of anticipation. He looked at her expectantly and she wondered, somewhere in the back of her mind, if this was a test, if he was giving her the chance to prove his earlier point – that she could be a leader, despite her reservations.
The pressure that now rested on her shoulders as her ex-lover, four of his closest friends, and her intended all looked to her for a course of action was unpleasant, but there was a faith in Vladislaus' eyes as he held her gaze that allowed her to steady her nerves.
She could do this.
She had to.
Her brother's life was at stake.
"If you knew who we were from the beginning, why string us along? Why not just eradicate us at the start when you had the chance?" Rémy inquired of Aldrick, their conversation still going.
"I wanted to see what you knew, which was clearly more than you were letting on."
"But why would you side with Augustine?" he said, directing his comments to the Spider now. "You managed to keep from swearing allegiance to him for years and you know he cares nothing for our kind, or the welfare of those in this city. Why choose a side now?"
"It is true that our current ruler is not as benevolent and concerned as our dear king," Basilio commented mockingly in reference to Dracula. "But Marcus' indifference creates chaos, which puts men like myself at a certain advantage. With him, this city is practically mine, whereas you, Rémy Chase – you have nothing I want. You can't win this war against him. Marcus Augustine is the only person strong enough to go head to head with the dragon. A new world order is at hand. I simply chose the winning side."
Rémy laughed at that, knowing his belligerence would anger his opponents, but that was the intent. He had noticed his sister congregated in the shadows with the others who remained unseen. Distracting his present audience was the only help he could offer them right now.
"You actually think you hold any authority over those in this city?" he mocked openly now. "That Augustine would somehow make you his right-hand when all is said and done? That monster only keeps you around because you're of use to him and once you have served your purpose and that usefulness has expired, he will discard you as he has done to those who came before. You have only the influence and power he has given you. That doesn't make you formidable. That makes you his puppet… his bitch. Aldrick – you know what it's like to be someone else's bitch, don't you?"
Aldrick Mieno snarled angrily, fangs lengthening in warning.
"I would tread very carefully, if I were you, Rémy Chase," Basilio called out. "You forget who holds the control in this situation."
Frankie pulled her attention away from the exchange and unsheathed a pair of twin blades that had been fastened to her upper thighs. She absently twirled them briefly between her fingers before gripping the handles firmly, seeming to have come to a decision.
"We need to thin out their numbers – but we must stay discrete for as long as possible," and she motioned with her head in the direction of the assault rifle in Raul's hands. "No guns. Make it quick and quiet. Stick to the shadows."
"Yes, ma'am," the werewolf whispered excitedly, slinging the weapon over his back and tightening the strap.
"Once the second level is neutralized, then we move up – unless our cover is blown. Then all bets are off. But the main goal is to keep our people safe," and she pointed the tip of one of her knives in the direction of her brother. "We keep each other alive and we all get out of here together."
"What about the Spider?" Tristan asked.
"If anyone gets first dibs on that creep, it's going to me, but we'll deal with that as it comes. Am I understood?"
There were silent nods all around and Frankie squared her shoulders a bit, tightening her hold on her blades as if the feel of the weapons in her hands soothed her somewhat.
"Ladies first," Dracula said at last, the faintest hint of a smile on his face as he motioned for her to lead the way.
Trying not to appear too pleased by the look he was sending her, she made her way over to the wall at the edge of the room, having located a way up to the second level that didn't involve the exposure of the open stairwell. There was a space just large enough for a body to pass through on the grated floor above and with a single inhuman leap, she was on the second floor, her feet landing soundlessly as if she were some black feline with fur paws. The others followed, though Vlad made it a point to linger behind a bit so he could observe her in action.
Francesca moved like a shadow, picking out her first victim – one of the nameless vampire soldiers that had foolishly distanced himself from the others, looking about curiously. With expert precision, she slammed her first blade directly into the back of the man's neck, severing his spine and slashing his vocal cords so he couldn't move or cry out. With the second knife – a silver-plated metal blade with a thin stake situated in the center – she brought her arm around him and buried the weapon into his chest between his ribs, impaling his heart on impact.
In a matter of seconds, the soldier had begun to silently dissolve into little more than ash. Frankie slipped back into the shadows before the rest of the man's remains could fall through the holes in the floor, leaving no trace.
Dracula's smile broadened as she instinctually looked back at him, as if she had sensed him watching her all along, now eager for his approval.
Well? he heard her voice say in his head. Is that perfect enough control over one's prey for you? she asked, repeating his earlier words.
His smile was pure devilment.
I'm intrigued, though by no means impressed, was his response and her scoff, coupled with the rolling of her eyes as she shook her head nearly had him laughing. Even a novice can sneak up behind someone off their guard…
Accepting his challenge, he watched with rapt amusement as she moved with unnatural speed to a small group of mercenaries congregated near the railing as they watched the dramatic back and forth between Aldrick and Rémy, the former still holding the higher ground. She moved too quickly for the naked eye to discern and Vlad watched as at least four more men, one right after the other in rapid succession, were eradicated before they even knew what was happening to them. Then in a blur of black, she vanished into the darkness.
Sensing her at his side, he turned his head slowly to find her standing beside him, the most devious grin he had ever seen her wear plastered to her face.
"I believe you were saying something fascinating about me being a novice," she cued as she studied her cuticle situation with a false degree of interest. Before he could offer a flirtatious response, they were interrupted by the sound of another gunshot and what sounded like Carmen screaming.
All humor drained from Frankie's eyes as she moved closer to the edge of the floor so she could acquire a better look at what had caused all of the commotion. Though still hidden in the darkness, from her vantage point she could see that Aldrick had taken a third shot at her brother and this time, his aim had been true.
He had managed to hit Rémy square in the shoulder, though from the way the electrical panel sparked and hissed behind him, the bullet seemed to have passed cleanly through his person. He was alive, but there was something terribly wrong.
Frankie had seen her elder brother take his fair share of bullets throughout their unnaturally prolonged existence, and though each time had caused her a certain degree of anxiety, he had always been quick to heal, to recover.
This time was different.
Rémy was clutching his shoulder in his hand, the blood oozing between his fingers, suggesting that the wound wasn't immediately closing as it ought to have been. Her heightened senses picked up something new in the air, something faintly sweet, but acidic… like poison. The way Rémy struggled to remain on his feet after the blow confirmed her suspicions and Frankie felt her stomach plummet in realization. The ammunition in Aldrick's gun was tainted with something.
Momentarily ignorant of her surroundings, Frankie was unaware that one of the Spider's soldiers had noticed her and was now creeping silently forward until she heard a scuffle somewhere behind her. She turned to find Vladislaus disengaging the nameless assassin with little effort, taking the man's head in both of his hands and with a sharp turn, there was a sickening crack of bone and the tearing of flesh as her would be assailant's neck was effectively broken.
Dracula said nothing, but the admonishment in his eyes for her letting her guard down was clear.
"I've grown weary of this conversation," Aldrick announced, still with his gun in hand, the barrel smoking just a little from the recent shot. "The fact of the matter is you're on the wrong side of the board, Chase – you always have been. The victory you dream of is inconceivable."
"I would rather die fighting for my freedom than to kowtow to the will of that self-serving sociopath," Rémy answered bravely, though with some deliberation as the pain in his shoulder only seemed to be spreading.
Aldrick straightened at this proclamation and took deadly aim.
Carmen immediately made a move to step into his line of fire, but with her movement came the clicking sound of readied weapons being raised all around them. Rémy held out a hand in her direction, a sign for her to stay put. The woman shook her head faintly, eyes filled with fear, but despite the agony he was in, Rémy was perfectly calm.
"And that is a pity," the Spider called out from his position, "though admittedly not surprising. Well, Aldrick, I do believe we've said what needs to be said. Mr. Chase, do you have any last words before we send you and your little band of misguided revolutionaries to meet true death?"
Rémy's eyes drifted away from Carmen as he turned his head slowly to meet the gaze of his sister who was still watching him from the second level, hands now gripping the railing in front of her. She noticed the slight movement of his index finger over his wounded shoulder, a signal for her to look upward. She did, noticing that Tristan was mere feet away from Aldrick, completely unnoticed and ready to pounce.
Apparently the presence of the lycans was a blessing after all. The werewolf prince and his men had effectively neutralized almost the entire second floor in a matter of minutes. She looked back to her brother, eyes wide but now filled with a kind of hope as she nodded her head in understanding. Hell was about to break loose, but she was ready.
"Just one," Rémy said at last, eyes returning to his executioner as he dared to smile. "Check."
The chess reference was momentarily lost to the others until, as if on cue, Tristan leapt forward from his hiding place. With a swift kick to Aldrick's back, the vampire went flying over the railing as gravity took hold of him. He fell down, down, down before landing with a sickening thud on the concrete floor of the first level, right at Rémy's feet. Before the soldiers could react, the wolves attacked; Frankie and Dracula, who were still on the second level, quickly moving up to join the fray. Lyra, Danny, and the others surrounded their leader on all sides, their weapons in hand as they open-fired at the upper levels so the enemy was now being attacked on all sides.
Aldrick groaned as the bones broken from his fall began to heal. It took some effort, but he finally managed to crane his head upward to look at Rémy who was now towering over him, as smug as ever.
My, how the tables had turned.
The man watched in resignation as the leader of the alliance removed a handgun from a holder strapped to his side, taking aim.
"Any last words?" Rémy asked tauntingly, but his moment of triumph was lessened by the growing pain in his shoulder and he hissed a little as the burning sensation continued to spread slowly. Aldrick must have noticed this, for his look of resignation turned into an almost gleeful smile, eyes full of retribution.
"See you in hell, Chase," he said, motioning with his head towards the man's wounded shoulder.
Rémy unleashed a handful of UV rounds, his expression cold despite the pain. When his enemy finally met true death, body decaying rapidly before his eyes as decades of stolen time caught up with him, the gun proceeded to slip from Rémy's grip as the fire in his veins spread across his chest and down his arm, prickling at his neck. His legs started to give out.
"Rémy?! Lyra, cover me!" Carmen shouted, moving quickly to catch Frankie's brother as he started to fall. "Rémy, you're not healing…"
"Get him behind the vat and out of the way!" Danny shouted, stepping in front of them. "We're sitting ducks out here!"
"Lyra, help me!"
With the redhead's assistance, they were able to take shelter from the rain of bullets above. Carmen fell to her knees, gently lying Rémy down on the ground so she could better examine the gaping hole in his shoulder.
"What are we dealing with here, Carmen?" Danny asked between shots.
The woman ripped the shirt around the bullet wound so she could get a better look and upon seeing the damage, she swore under her breath.
"He's been poisoned."
"With what? Silver? Vervain? Thank the devil they had the decency to forgo using UV rounds…"
"Get me Aldrick's gun! … Rémy? Rémy… I need you to stay awake."
"Frankie? Frankie come in…" Danny said into the small radio device in his hand as he stepped away for a moment. Carmen was too busy worrying about her best friend's brother to care.
"It burns," Rémy managed between labored breaths, suddenly perspiring, his skin clammy and starting to grey. "Fuck, Carmen… it fucking burns."
Lyra quickly returned with the previously requested weapon in hand. Carmen took it and unloaded the magazine. There were a few bullets left, the cartridge cases appearing to be made of glass and filled with a clear liquid.
"You've been poisoned, but I have no idea with what." She started to poke at the wound to get a better look and he let out a painful groan before gasping for air. The Spaniard shook her head. "It seems to be slow moving, which is good – probably because the bullet passed right through you."
"I still feel like shit, though."
"Serves you right for leading us into death trap," Lyra muttered bitterly.
"Not right now, Kennedy," Rémy grunted behind gritted teeth. "Let's at least survive this first. Then you can take a bite out of me."
The redhead smirked, despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Where's Frankie?" Carmen asked as she reloaded the cartridge into Aldrick's gun before shoving it into one of her empty holsters. "We need to get out of here."
"Looks like she's going after Basilio," Danny called out, motioning with the end of his gun in the woman's direction.
"Are you fucking serious?" Lyra exclaimed, following his gaze. "Does that woman have a death wish?"
"We need to get out of here," Carmen insisted.
"We don't exactly have an opening for an escape right now."
"I think she's going to make us one," Danny explained.
Lyra watched Frankie from across the way, mowing through soldiers as if it were nothing. She knew the effect the adrenaline rush of the violence would have on her friend if she wasn't careful, and the thought of what could take place sent the redhead's undead heart plummeting into her gut as she muttered an oath.
"No, you idiot," she whispered. "It's too risky…" Lyra started to move forward, assault rifle raised as she began to pick off the soldiers in Frankie's way, hoping that preventing the woman from having to do the killing herself would stave off what she was now fearing.
"What are you doing?" Danny called out as she continued to move out into the open.
"Stay with Carmen and Rémy. Wait for my signal and then get the hell out of here."
"What signal? What is she going to do?"
Lyra's expression was grave.
"She's going to let her demon out to play."
Fun fact: I have very distinct memories of when I first wrote this chapter - namely because this marked the beginning of the mutiny of Vlad and Frankie against your authoress.
I'll explain...
To give you a little look inside my writing process these days, before I even begin writing, I tend to outline the entire story from start to finish, including summaries of the events that'll happen in each chapter.
What made writing this chapter so memorable, however, was that even though I was able to keep the general narrative true to the initial outline/summary I drafted, I couldn't seem to keep Frankie and Dracula from flirting with each other. Like - I'm sitting here with these characters in my head, going: "you guys - people are dying. Do we seriously need to do this now? The timing couldn't be more inappropriate!"
But, of course, the answer from those two was a resounding, "now is the perfect time."
I swear, keeping them away from (or in some cases, straight-up off of) each other as the next chapters progress was a challenge. You may have heard of some writers proclaiming that their characters mutiny against them after a while and end up driving the story. Such was the case with Vlad and Frankie. The three of us got very good at making concessions and compromises left, right, and center after a while... it may start to show ;)
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Many thanks to the golden trio - Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, and inkmagpie for always reviewing. You guys are absolute heroes.