Chapter 14.
"Let's go tell the others
and then decide what to do," I suggested as Kannon pulled into traffic.
"And I sure hope we haven't got the cops called on us."
Jason nodded at me,
understanding fully what I've been through before. I've had to move once
because I didn't want to put my neighbors into anymore danger. I'd had killer
zombies and an assassin come after me in my apartment. It kinda puts a damper
on your relationship with your neighbors when a bullet accidentally goes
through the wall. And here, well, a bloody faced wereleopard and two more
dragging what looks like helpless victims back to their hotel room probably
doesn't look too good either.
We got back to the hotel without
incident and hurried back up to our rooms. I flung open Jason's door.
"Cherry! Nathaniel! Zane!
We met the pard and...."
I stared at the room. It was a
mess. The others stopped behind me. The couch was over turned, and the table
tipped over on its side, a leg broken off. The TV screen was smashed in and
blood marked the glass. Pillows and other miscellaneous items were thrown
about. The windows were open, the breeze fluttering the curtains.
The assassins had escaped, and
the pard had gone after them.
"Kannon, Jason, check
Nathaniel's room."
They nodded and I turned to go
to my hotel room. I pressed my ear to the door and found it was quiet. I
unlocked the door, knelt down, feeling a sense of déjà vu. How long ago was it
I was doing this very same thing and the blast of a shotgun had roared over my
head? The Browning was in my hand in an instant.
I pushed open the door on my
knees, and the room was quiet. The windows to this room were open too, but
there was no carnage.
"Anita, I smell strangers
in these rooms," Jason called from the other room. I hurried back, gun
pointed.
"They're not here now, but
there were strangers here," Jason said, noisily sniffing the air in the
doorway to Nathaniel's room. This room wasn't destroyed, but the windows were
open. "People I don't know were here. Lots of them."
Kannon sniffed and wrinkled his
nose. "The monkeys."
"The what?" I
demanded.
"That's the smell of the monkeys.
The Saru." Kannon's eyes widened. "They've taken your friends."
"Why?" I turned on
him. "Why?"
"They're the army."
Kannon backed away from me. "Sanesuke must have sent them to get your
friends."
"Saru?" Aya asked.
"Asher!" I suddenly
remembered the sleeping vampire and stepped into the other room, gun out. Jason
said the room was empty, but I was nervous, dammit! I opened the door to the
bedroom on my knees again, and found the coffin was gone.
"Anita?" Jason had
dropped to his knees beside me, clearly at a loss as I tried to collect my
thoughts.
"Kannon." I got up,
stroking Jason's golden hair once for reassurance. "Get Sanesuke on the
phone."
Kannon was staring, wide eyed,
but jumped to get the phone. Aya was staring at me. The look in his narrowed
eyes was not kind.
"I fucked up, Aya!" I
snapped at him. "Is that what you want me to say?"
He narrowed his eyes at me
further, turning them into lavender slits, and turned his back on me in a swish
of dark jacket, heading to look into the bedroom.
"Anita?" Kannon held
out the phone to me.
"Sanesuke?" I
demanded. He laughed on the other end.
"You sound upset, Blake-san."
"You bet your ass I am!
What is with kidnapping my people?"
There was a pause on the other
end of the line. "Kidnapping your people, Blake-san?"
"Why did you send your Saru
to kidnap my people?" I demanded.
He paused again. "I do not
know what you are speaking of, Blake-san."
It was my turn to pause.
Vampires can lie and pass a lie detector test, and smile during the whole
session. But Sanesuke seemed to be quite proud of what he managed to pull off.
"If you didn't call the
Saru after my people, who did, Sanesuke?" I asked quietly.
"I do not know, Blake-san.
I have no need to take your people. This was not my doing, Blake-san."
"Can you talk to the Saru
and find out why?"
"And why should I do this,
Blake-san?"
I paused. "'Cause I made contact
with your wereleopards, and I'll probably be bringing them to meet you
tomorrow."
"Probably?"
"They haven't decided
yet."
"I see. Then call me again
tomorrow about this matter."
The bastard hung up.
"Fuck!" I slammed the
receiver down in its cradle.
"That's not good."
Jason looked at me worriedly.
"Sanesuke says he didn't
send them, but he won't help us either." I realized I was waving the gun
around and holstered it.
"So what do we do?"
Jason asked timidly.
"We find these Saru and
kick the shit out of them." I snarled. "Kannon. Do you know where
they are?"
Kannon looked nervous.
"Yes?"
"Yes, but?" I asked.
"They're not keen on
strangers." Kannon looked quite nervous now.
"Well they've brought this
on themselves."
I paused to hear the phone
ringing in my hotel room. Only person knew the number. That I knew of.
I raced for my room, pushing the
open door all the way open and running for the phone. I jumped when the counter
splintered and exploded in front of my hand. The sound was minimal, silencer.
"It's bad to be late to
your own death."
I turned my head slowly and saw
Schuldig leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, gun in hand. My hand
slid for the Browning.
"Ah ah," Schuldig
warned, motioning with the silencer of his gun. "Hands up."
He moved his other hand into
view from behind himself, and in it was Sigmund. I felt my breath catch as he
pressed the silencer to the side of the stuffed penguin's head. "No funny
business."
I lifted my hands as the phone
kept ringing. Sigmund had been with me forever. He was like my child, as
twisted and disturbed as that sounds. Sure, I could get him sewn up from a
bullethole, and Schuldig had me whether he held Sigmund hostage or not, but I
didn't want him to shoot my penguin.
"Back up." Schuldig
motioned with his head, a small reverse-nodding movement. "Close the
door."
I did, stepping back and closing
the door with my foot. Then the other man stepped out of the bedroom behind
Schuldig. The man in the white suit from the restaurant. He stepped forward
towards me, picking up the phone and putting it right back down in the cradle.
"It's a pleasure, Ms.
Blake," he said in perfect English.
"Wish I could say the
same." I watched his hands. No weapons visible, but that didn't mean much.
"I'd like to ask you a few
questions, Ms. Blake," he said calmly as ever, stepping towards me.
"But first, up against the door."
I stepped back until I felt the
door against my back.
"Press your hands against
the door. Above your head, please."
I did so and he reached out to
remove the Browning, tossing it onto the counter by the phone.
"Now we may speak
civilly."
I found myself amazed he didn't
search me completely, and felt hope about the fact I still had all my other
weapons.
"Oh really?" Schuldig
grinned, stepping forward. "Crawford, she's not disarmed."
I'd forgotten. Stupid me. He
read my thoughts.
"Turn and face the
door," Crawford said, motioning his fingers in a rotating motion and I
turned.
He pressed me up against the
door with a hand to the back of my neck and found the machete right away. As he
relieved me of my knives and the Firestar, I found myself praying that the
others would come to wonder how I was doing.
"Hurry, Crawford, her
friends are just a room over."
Shit. I had to stop thinking.
"So, Ms. Blake. I hear you
are in league with the Undertaker." Crawford said as he unstrapped my left
knife from my arm, using his body to trap me against the door.
"I have no idea who the
Undertaker is." I clenched my teeth as he took my last weapon from me.
"Really?" Crawford
asked as he stepped back. "You may lower your arms, Ms. Blake."
I was grateful for that small
mercy.
"Turn to face me, Ms.
Blake, but keep your hands in the open."
I obliged and met his light
brown eyes that studied me through his glasses.
"You're Crawford of
Schwarz," I said, trying to buy time.
He nodded slightly, his facial
expression not giving away any surprise that I knew anything about them.
"And you've been told to
kill me," I continued.
He nodded again.
"By whom?"
He blinked almost lazily at me.
"That cannot be shared."
"Grant a woman her last
request!" I snarled. "I need to know who to curse with my dying
breath."
He chuckled at that, closing his
eyes briefly, then looked back at me. "No."
Okay, this was a guy you couldn't
press easily. Schuldig had stepped forward to stand on the opposite side of the
counter from me, for cover, and to avoid having Crawford in his line of fire.
Professionals.
"Ms. Blake, we don't have
much time and I'd rather you talk now than after a few bullets." Crawford
gave me a condescending look.
"I've all the time in the
world." I shrugged.
"No, my dear, you
don't," Crawford pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a
finger. "You only have the time I give you. And really, Ms. Blake, from
what I'd heard about you, I hadn't expected this to be so easy. The Undertaker
has been lagging in his training."
"Who the hell is the
Undertaker?" I demanded.
Crawford paused to study me
again. "Perhaps he has not told you his name. Let me paint you his
picture. Blond hair, blue eyes, assassin."
My eyes widened. Edward.
"We got a winner,"
Schuldig chuckled.
"So he chose not to share
his name with you, interesting." Crawford tilted his head.
"You know Edward?" I
stared at him.
"Edward. So he is the one
that trains you."
"He doesn't train me."
I narrowed my eyes. "He's my friend."
Crawford chuckled. "The
Undertaker has no friends. You are his lover, perhaps?"
That startled me.
"No."
"She's not lying,
Crawford," Schuldig said boredly, making Sigmund dance on the counter. He
was pissing me off.
"Ally then," Crawford
sighed. "Where is he?"
"That was probably him you
just hung up on the phone." I nodded towards the phone. Crawford turned to
look and suddenly his head turned back to look at the door that connected mine
to Jason's, just before it slammed open.
"Anita!" Jason cried
before he took two bullets to the chest. A dark shape darted forward from
behind him and Crawford jumped back in time to miss being slashed by a katana.
I threw myself at the counter, reaching for anything I could grab. I found
myself staring down the barrel of Schuldig's silencer.
"Tschüß." [1]
As his finger tightened on the
trigger, the wood of the counter exploded between us, sending Schuldig's arm
flying up and the shot into the ceiling. It sent me flying back to land on my
butt on the floor, my face stinging from splinters.
I felt a hand grab onto my arm
and slammed my palm at where I guessed the face to be. A hand caught mine and I
found myself looking up into Kannon's golden eyes before he looked away from
me, back at Schuldig. A wooden cupboard door exploded near the surprised
German's head, a good chunk striking him in the side of the head, sending him
down to his knees behind the counter.
Aya swung again at Crawford, who
dodged it with a surprising grace, falling into what looked like some kind of
martial arts stance. The phone started to ring again, and just added to the
chaos. Kannon let go of my arm and hopped onto the counter to go after
Schuldig. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my teary vision and saw the
machete was on the floor, having been knocked off from when the counter
exploded. I grabbed for it and lurched to my feet, taking the handle of the
machete in both hands and sliding the sheath off.
I saw Aya stagger as Crawford
landed a punch to his jaw. I heard snarling behind the counter. Jason lay on
the floor by the door, lifting his head and trying to get up. I dashed for
Crawford first, swinging the machete as hard as I could at his arm. The machete
went flying out of my hands as his foot met me halfway and a quick rotation of
his body brought his other foot in contact with the side of my head.
As my head hit the floor, I
realized he wore Oxfords, good shoes, and my vision whitened out. It was like
having paint poured into my eyes. It flared from the center and spread out to
consume the rest of my vision. My hearing fuzzed to a buzzing and I couldn't
hear anything going on around me anymore. All I could do was pant to control
the pain as my head rung and I waited for my vision to come back into focus.
I hate being helpless. It's the
sensation I hate more than anything. When you feel helpless, it's usually
before you die. I was never the type to just lie down and die. Knowing I'm
going to die usually pisses me off.
I heard a sound finally creep
into the edges of my hearing. A high annoying sound that kept repeating. I
blinked and started to see shades of gray on white. I just needed time. The
head injury from last night was probably what made this as bad as it was.
The healing seemed to kick in
and my vision quickly darkened and focused. I now recognized the sound. The
phone. It was either the hotel manager telling me to get out of his hotel, or
it was Edward.
I realized then that the room
was quiet. I pushed myself up with my arms and looked around for the assassins
that had so recently surrounded me. The room was empty. I was the only one in
it, as if it had always been so. But if it had all been a dream, I was NOT
paying for the damages.
I pushed to my feet from all
fours, holding the counter to stay steady. I grabbed my guns when I found them
on the counter edges, shoving the Firestar down the front of my pants and
holding the Browning in my hand as I reached for the still screaming phone.
"Hello?" I asked, glad
my voice was steady.
"Why'd you hang up on
me?"
It was Edward. "I didn't.
Someone calling you the Undertaker did."
He fell silent, then:
"Describe him."
"Tall, dark, handsome,
glasses, by the name of Crawford." I rubbed the side of my head where he'd
kicked me and found a little lump. Bastard.
"Get out of your hotel
room."
"Where do I go?" I'd
planned to anyway, but he might have a good idea of where to go.
"Do you have my answering
service number?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me where you are
when you get there. If you had plans, Anita, change them."
"Edward, who is he?"
"Dangerous."
The bastard hung up again. I
heard a sound and dropped the phone, pointing the Browning two-handed.
"Anita?" It was
Jason's voice.
"Come in, Jason." I
kept the Browning up.
Jason stepped in, hands lifted,
showing me he was unarmed. It was really pointless for a werewolf to do that,
but it was a comforting gesture. He'd smelled that I had the gun out. They knew
me too well.
"Jason, where are
they?" I demanded, hanging up the phone as I reholstered the gun. I
remembered Sigmund and hurried around the counter to find the poor thing
covered in wood splinters and dusted it off, hugging it to my chest.
"Kannon and Aya took them
on and they ran. I came back for you when they went down the stairs,"
Jason reported.
"Are you okay?" I met
him at the doorway, holding Sigmund with one arm, and examining the holes and
black-looking bloodstains in his dark blue dress shirt.
"I'm fine, it was lead
bullets." He grinned at me, looking down at Sigmund. He literally tore the
shirt off, grabbed it with his fingers and the cloth parted under supernatural
strength. I resisted the urge to look away as he dropped the mangled rags on
the floor. He'd been working out, trying to look older and more dangerous. He'd
ever succeed. He was too short. No matter how much iron he pumped, he'd simply
look like a miniature version of whatever look he was aiming for.
Blood marked the wounds, one
under his left nipple and the other near the center of the sternum. Both were
fatal wounds. He wiped the blood off his skin with his fingers, revealing the
pink new skin underneath. I finally turned away when he started licking his own
blood from his fingers. I suppose it was better than licking someone else's
blood, but the amount he was licking from his hand was enough to make my 'ick
scale'.
I turned again as Kannon hurried
back into the room, blood-flecked and breathing excitedly. "They got
away."
"Where's Aya?" I asked
before the man himself strolled into the room like a thundercloud. He seemed to
bring darkness into the room with him. Mr. Sunshine, he was.
"Kannon, whose blood is
that?"
"Not mine." He
grinned.
"Tell Aya that we're
getting out of here. If he can help pack the other room, I'd appreciate
it," I said. Kannon seemed invigorated, his eyes were bright and
glittering, and he couldn't seem to hold still, despite the blood flecked on
his arms and face. He translated to Aya, who muttered so deeply in response, I
didn't catch it.
"He says we wants his
friends back and why the hell are we not getting them?" Kannon translated
as he licked his arm clean, like a cat or a child with an ice cream cone.
"Tell him to shut the hell
up cause my people are missing too," I snarled. Aya turned his gaze away
from me and I went for my bedroom to pack. Let Aya be stubborn. The moment he
became a liability, I'd dump him in a box somewhere like an abandoned kitten.
I heard a door slam and glanced
back to see Aya had left, and what seemed to be fetish foreplay. Jason and
Kannon were sharing the blood smeared on each other's fingers and skin, and
seemed to be enjoying it a little too much for my comfort. Telling them to get
a hotel room was redundant. Sigmund and I simply turned and walked back into my
bedroom.
[1] Goodbye
