Chapter 14: A decimated pack and a pissed off Toreador
After getting him to the hotel, Garrett sat Snifter down on the couch and told him to explain what happened.
Snifter wouldn't calm down.
"We were just walking along, you know, getting ready to go to the club, and then these guys jumped us. They came out of nowhere. We didn't even see 'em until they were on top of us. They had flamethrowers and shit, chains and knives. We never had a chance; they just slaughtered us, man. Oh God, they slaughtered us! There was this one guy, I think he was their leader. He took out Casper in full crinos with one punch. He ripped his fucking heart out! I don't even know how I managed to get away. I just ran and ran until I found you."
He was shaking and rocking back and forth on the couch. Garrett realized he had a big problem on his hands.
"I came to you, because we could really use a hero right now."
Garrett took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay Snifter, tell me what they looked like."
"They were all bikers … at least I think they were all bikers. There were a lot of motorcycles nearby and a lot of them were wearing leather jackets. They had a weird looking design on the back of them, kinda looked like a cross, but it was broken. Only the leader guy didn't have that. He was dressed like a businessman."
Garrett took this in and continued questioning. "Did anybody else survive?"
Snifter thought for a moment. "Jiggly wasn't with us. Wait a minute, Press wasn't either. We have to find them. They're probably looking for me. We have to find them before they do, Garrett!"
They went down to the warehouse the Shatters called home. They found Jiggly and Press there, waiting. Garrett let Snifter break the news to them. They didn't take it well. They packed up as much stuff as they could, clothes and what little food was around. They also packed up the scant weapons locker and then got the hell out of there. Garrett picked out a bamboo handled blade and a .50 cal. Desert Eagle. Press had managed to steal a compact car, so getting them all to the hotel was easier than it would have been otherwise.
After getting to the hotel, Garrett made her park the car down the road so the cops wouldn't come knocking on their door looking for a car thief. After getting inside, drawing the blinds and bolting the door, Garrett stood watch by the window for awhile, just to make sure they hadn't been followed. They didn't appear to have been.
Jiggly was the first to pipe up. "Garrett," he asked, sounding remarkably childlike, "are you going to help us?"
"Yeah," he replied, not knowing what else to say, "You got it."
It was late and sleeping arrangements were going to have to be made. Snifter had it easy enough. He shifted down to lupus and curled up in front of the door. Jiggly had already gotten comfy on the couch, so he plopped down there. Before Garrett could even open his mouth, Press jumped on the bed. He looked at her and began to get frustrated. She only looked back at him and patted the bed. "It's big enough for both of us you know," she said. "I won't bite … unless you piss me off."
Garrett received a rude awakening the next morning. As the sun began to lighten the room, he rolled over in his sleep and draped an arm around Press. She woke up and knocked him out of bed. He landed with a thud that woke everyone else in the room up. Snifter and Jiggly craned their necks to see what had happened. Garrett jumped up trying to figure out what just happened. Press just shook her head and got up. She started into a workout routine, doing pushups, sit-ups and a number of callisthenic exercises. Garrett followed suit as it was his habit to exercise in the morning too. Press' workout was a lot more intense than anything Garrett had been doing. He was sucking wind hard by the time she finished.
Next came the fight over the shower. Garrett wound up taking one third only because Snifter refused to shower. It turned out that he was afraid of water. That would have to be remedied.
After cleaning up and changing clothes, they all sat down around the couch.
"So what do we do now," Press asked.
Garrett hadn't the slightest clue. What was he supposed to say to these people? He was no leader. He didn't have any experience leading. But he was going to have to do something. Like it or not, he had made himself responsible for them and they saw him as their leader.
"Okay here's what we're going to do," he said, trying to think on his feet and sound authoritative at the same time. "Snifter, you scout around town and look for the bikers that attacked you. If you find them, make a note of where they are and get back here to let us know or call the room. Don't try to take them on by yourself."
He nodded, still in lupus form.
He looked at Press. "Your job is the same, but I want you guys to go separate ways so we can cover more ground more quickly. This is our base of operations for the moment. I will keep this room as long as I can, but I can't keep it forever. We have to try to move fast."
He looked at Jiggly. "Jiggly … you stay here and take calls from us."
He gave a thumbs-up and smiled.
Press looked at Garrett. "What are you gonna do?"
"I'm gonna do some digging."
He knew exactly where he wanted to begin; he just didn't know exactly where it was he was supposed to go. He wanted to track down Dante, the guy who had disturbed him and Lillian the night before. He seriously doubted that the kindred, surely a Ventrue, could have stood toe-to-toe with Casper, much less any of the others, and taken them out with that kind of ease.
Dante wasn't that hard to track down. Dante Forezi was the CEO of a large corporation based in Pittsburgh called Lyra Industries. The corporate headquarters was in the Greenwell building, a large office complex downtown sharing space with several subsidiaries, also more than likely owned by him. The only problem was that he would have to wait until sundown to meet with him.
He didn't know why, but instinct told him this was where to start.
After sundown, the Greenwell was an electric lit behemoth, looming a seemingly impossible height above him. He walked in and approached the secretary's desk like he owned the place. She looked up and didn't appear to care he was even standing there.
"May I help you?" she asked in a condescending tone.
"I need to speak with Mr. Forezi."
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked as if she was determined not to be cooperative.
"No I don't have an appointment," he said as he began to get pissed off. "Call him. I'm not leaving until I have an audience with him."
"One moment please," she said, appearing slightly intimidated.
That's right, he thought. You're smart to be intimidated. The hand cannon tucked in the back of his pants was the least of her fucking worries.
A few moments later, he was told Mr. Forezi would see him. He got in the elevator and rode to the 50th floor. The door opened to a large open office area filled with very expensive furniture. A desk was situated at the opposite end of the room with a massive set of windows revealing what looked like the entire Pittsburgh skyline.
Dante sat behind the desk. Garrett stepped forward.
"That's quite far enough Mr. Rainbird," he said abruptly. "I can hear you quite well from here. What do you want?"
"I only want to know why you did it?" he asked coldly.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. What exactly is it that I did?"
"You killed them … or at least you had them killed. I can't prove it yet, but mark my words: I will. And when I do, you know I won't be the only one unhappy about it."
For just a second, it looked like his face twitched. He was nervous about something.
"I'm not going to stand for you coming in here making accusations," he said, suddenly growing hostile. "I want you to leave right now."
Satisfied, Garrett smiled, bowed and got back in the elevator.
"Oh and Mr. Rainbird," he said before the doors closed, "Back off. You don't know what you're dealing with."
He only hoped that his strategy would work. This would surely flush someone out of the woodwork because he was now more than likely marked for death. But they would have to be careful because Lillian would more than likely have some kind of protective decree for … Oh shit, Lillian!
He rode as fast as he could, but he knew he wasn't going to make it. He got to the Barbarosa Club at a quarter till nine, not exactly on time. As he walked into the club, he saw Thornn, who appeared to be posted to wait for him. When she saw him enter, she stepped forward.
"Lillian doesn't want to see you," she said coldly with the slightest hint of satisfaction. "She told you not to be late. I'm afraid you're not welcome on the third floor anymore."
"But Thornn, I can explain …"
"I don't care, Garrett … and neither does she right now. You screwed up big time."
This was all he needed right now. It was all he could do to contain his frustration.
"The Shatters are dead, Thornn."
This got her attention. Her eyes clouded for a second, then cleared. "All of them?"
"No. Snifter, Press and Jiggly are all that's left. I'm helping them figure out who did it and then we're going to kill them … all. They're in my hotel room right now, looking at me as their only hope."
With that statement, he turned and walked out. She was visibly stunned. She stopped him before he could get out the door.
"Garrett wait …"
He turned around. He was past formalities and he wasn't going to bother with them. "What?"
"If you find anything … give me a call." It was clear that he had gotten to her somehow. She was definitely concerned and seemed to be almost on the verge of tears. Wow … the ice bitch actually did have feelings.
He nodded and replied, his voice softening. "Just tell her I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be late. It was just … I'm sorry."
He rode around town, looking for bikers with broken crosses on their jackets. He saw a few here and there, but none in large numbers. None appeared to be onto him, but most did give his bike more than a passing glance. Good, he thought. Now come to me.
He got back to the hotel and found everyone there, waiting. Jiggly spoke up as soon as Garrett walked through the door.
"Garrett, I'm hungry," he whined.
"Jiggly … just … order some pizzas or something."
His eyes lit up. "Got it! Seven pizzas coming up!"
Garrett thought about it for a second. "Wait a minute, put that phone down. I'm footing the bill for this aren't I?"
They nodded in unison, looking pitiful.
"Okay, four pizzas, but that's it."
"And some drinks?"
"Fine. Just make mine meat lovers."
Jiggly moved faster than Garrett had ever seen him move before. He dialed the phone with lightning speed and ordered four large pizzas before Garrett could stop him. Thirty minutes later, he had a forty dollar bill to pay, plus tip.
As they sat down to eat, he started asking questions. "What did you find? Anything?"
Press and Jiggly shook their heads. Snifter, in his wolf form which looked more like a stray dog, perked up.
"What is it, Snifter?"
He started to move his foreleg and whine.
"I'm not doing this Lassie shit, Snifter. Shift to homid and tell me in plain English."
He whined again briefly and shifted up to homid. He paused for a moment before he answered. "I found a place where there were a bunch of those broken cross guys."
"Where? Could you find it again if you had to?"
"Oh yeah, it's not that far from home. It was a big warehouse and there were like a hundred of them."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, actually. There was a van there. I memorized the license plate and said it to myself all the way back here so I would remember it. DTEIFNO."
"Good work Snifter."
He smiled, very happy with what he had accomplished.
After pizza, they sat around and watched television for a little while. Press turned and looked at Garrett.
"So what do we do now?" she asked.
"We can't take a force that large, so we can't storm into that warehouse, guns blazin. We have to find fringe elements and take them out. Hopefully we can get them a few at a time and wear down their numbers. I think I know who is behind this and after meeting with him today, he's sure to send some targets of opportunity our way. And we'll be ready when he does …"
The next morning, Garrett decided to call his agent and break the bad news to him. He didn't even bother to get out of bed. The hotel phone would suffice. The response on the other side was anything other than what he expected.
"It's okay, really …" Tony told him, "because you have a contract offer from Aria records."
His eyes got so wide, Snifter thought they were going to fall out. He bolted out of bed so quickly the recoil on the mattress nearly threw Press off the other side.
"Are you serious? Cause if you're just fucking with me, I swear I'll …"
"Garrett," Tony interjected, "I'm dead serious. Do you want it or not?"
"Fuck yeah I want it!"
"Okay, then listen to me closely. I want you to go to the nearest Post Office right now and get yourself a P.O Box. Relay that information back to me and I'll send the contract for you to sign along with some other things you'll need. I'm going to send you a cell phone, so we can get a hold of you when we need to. The only other thing is you need to find a photographer somewhere and get a small portfolio, for promotional purposes."
Garrett listened closely and wrote everything down on the complimentary notepad the hotel was kind enough to leave on his nightstand. When he got off the phone, he was in and out of the shower and dressed in about five minutes. Press had already gone back to bed. Jiggly never woke up. Snifter was the only one who stayed awake. He even shifted to homid to talk.
"Where ya goin?" he asked.
"To the Post Office," he replied, no sooner than Snifter could get the words out of his mouth.
"Can I come?"
"No time. Gotta go."
"Please?"
"No. I'll be right back."
Garrett was out the door before Snifter could keep talking. He got on his bike and sped out of the parking lot, completely forgetting he had absolutely no idea where the nearest post office was. Thankfully, he headed in the right direction. It was only four or five miles up the road.
After getting a post office box and calling Tony back with the number, he sat down and contemplated what had happened. Lillian had set this up. She had to. That's what she was winking at him for … that's why she wanted that "private concert." Well, at least he didn't totally screw everything up. He needed to get back to recon.
Press opted to go with him on the next scouting mission. He accepted without too much of a fight. They rode around for awhile, but didn't see much of anything. Press was getting bored, he could tell.
"I wonder where they all went?" she asked, looking around.
Garrett didn't have an answer. He just kept on riding.
"Hey Garrett," she asked again, this time sounding like she wanted something. "Can I drive your bike?"
He pulled over on the side of the road. He didn't get off just yet, turning around to look at her. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" he asked.
"Yeah, lots of times. I used to have one," she said, smiling and batting her eyes. She could be construed as pretty, if you were into big, tall, muscular woman who could probably pound you into the pavement without breaking a sweat.
He debated the risks for a moment. "How long has it been since you've been on a motorcycle by yourself?"
"Just a year or two … I'll be alright."
What was the harm? "Okay," he said, giving in. "Take us back to the hotel, but drive slow. We can recon the way back too."
She smiled wide as they traded places on the Harley. Then they were off and Garrett knew he had made a big mistake. They swerved out of the parking lot going way too fast. She wasn't shifting gears and she was having a hard time steering.
"Pull over right now!" he screamed at her over the sound of the engine.
She pulled over, but not the way he would have intended. She laid the bike down and skidded into some trash cans down an alleyway. When he stood up, he was ready to kill her. She turned and looked at him, saw the anger on his face and cringed back, not out of fear but shame. He saw this and for some reason, wasn't mad anymore.
He pulled the bike back upright, put down the kickstand and surveyed the damage. There wasn't anything wrong with the engine components, but the fuel tank and every bit of chrome on the right side was scratched all to hell. The saddle bag on that side wasn't going to be of much use anymore either. This was going to set him back a few bucks. But hey, he just scored a record deal. He could fully restore 50 of these things in no time.
He sat down on the bike, picked a piece of trash off the handle bar and started it back up. The engine fired with no problem. He looked at Press, who still looked very ashamed of herself and motioned for her to get on. She was hesitant at first, but obliged.
They made it back to the hotel and ate more pizza as the sun went down. Press left not long after, without saying much. Garrett figured she was just trying to get away from him for a little while. He was still mad about her lying to him though. There was no way she used to own a bike, much less operate one.
He left not much later, alone. He rode past the Barbarosa and debated whether or not to go in. He decided to give Thornn an update if nothing else.
He went to the velvet ropes and got in line. The bouncer didn't wave him in this time; he had to wait his turn just like everyone else. He had to pay a cover charge too.
He walked in and went down to the rave club. He didn't see her anywhere, so he walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. He asked if she could be paged, the bartender said yes. A few minutes later, she sat down beside him.
"What have you found out?" she asked. She didn't seem to be the same Thornn he had met there the first night. It seemed like there actually was a soul somewhere inside her.
"Not much yet," he replied. "We're still searching. All we know is it has something to do with a biker gang who wear broken crosses on their jackets. And I think Dante has a hand in it somewhere."
"If he does, he'll be seeing the sunrise while he's tied down to a rooftop," she interjected coldly. "What proof do you have?"
"None yet, but it'll turn up. I know it will."
She nodded and turned on her barstool. She stared out past the dance floor and appeared to zone out. She wasn't taking this well and he wondered how close she really was to the Shatters. He'd have to ask the ones left alive. He let her stew in her own thoughts for a bit before changing the subject.
"Is Lillian still pissed at me?"
She came out of her trance, looked at him and nodded. "She doesn't talk about it much. I don't claim to know her mind but I'd guess you hurt her pride more than anything. I will say she can't be that pissed, because she did offer you a contract, right?"
"You mean to tell me she owns Aria records?"
"Among other things …"
He had one more beer and left the bar to think. The situation with Lillian was suddenly more complicated. If she was still offering him the contract, why wouldn't she see him? Why wouldn't she talk to him? He wasn't in love with her, but she did make good company. Yeah … good company.
He cruised down side streets slowly. A figure down an alley caught his eye. He appeared to be injured. Being the Good Samaritan that he was, Garrett pulled over to see if he needed any help. If the guy turned out to be a mugger, it would be him, not Garrett, who would have a very bad night.
He approached the man slowly and asked if he needed any help. The guy asked for a cigarette, but said he was okay. Garrett reached into his pocket and produced a pack and held a smoke out to him. He perked up and came over to get it.
The next second or two was a blur in Garrett's mind. All he knew was that for those couple of seconds, he felt really good. The man he had given the smoke to however was now on the complete other side of the alley and shaking. It become obvious to him what had happened. He brushed the side of his neck. His hand came back with a little blood on it.
He looked down the alleyway at the vampire on the other side. "Now what did you have to go and do that for?" he asked, ready to kick the shit out of him.
"I didn't know you were a shifter," he replied. "Otherwise I would have just killed you." He peered at Garrett through the darkness. "Wait," he said. "I know your face … do you play guitar?"
Garrett nodded.
"Aww shit," he said. "Please don't tell anyone about this. The Prince will have my head, literally. I didn't know it was you."
Garrett was now confused. "What are you talking about?"
"The Prince put out a decree that you were not to be harmed by any kindred," he replied. "Anyone who breaks that decree will be put to death immediately."
"Who is the Prince? Do I know him?"
"Her. Lillian Ross is the Prince of the city."
Holy shit. She was the Prince of the city? That probably means Thornn is the Sheriff. He suddenly realized he had friends in high places. He also realized that he stood up the Prince of the city two nights ago. Holy shit.
Garrett smiled. "What's my silence worth to you?"
The vampire appeared annoyed, but that expression soon left his face. "Name your price."
Garrett knew his price and didn't even have to think about it.
"Well, I have this bike that needs a little fixing up …"
After making a deal to get the bike fixed, he headed back to the hotel. That was well worth a little lost blood. Now if the record deal went sour, he wouldn't have to worry about how he was going to come up with the money to fix it himself.
He got back to the hotel around eleven. Press hadn't come back yet. She hadn't stayed out really late since she had been living under the same roof with him, so he started to worry a little. Snifter and Jiggly were there, so many they had some answers. After a little coaxing, they spilled the beans.
He had to see this.
The directions Jiggly had provided him proved to be on the mark. After arriving at the building, he walked around back and down some stairs. After getting a good look at his face and realizing who he was, the kindred guarding the door let him in. He could get used to this kind of treatment.
A makeshift arena had been set up in the basement of this old industrial building. Full contact fighting was the sport and betting was the game. A lot of money changed hands in here.
Garrett approached the open pit, where two female combatants were beating the ever loving shit out of one another. It appeared to be ladies' night in the ring at least. There were no gloves … there appeared to be no rules. One of them managed to land a hard kick to the other's face, sending blood and a few teeth flying. She hit the ground and didn't move. The lusty cheers of the crowd around him were reminiscent of the Roman Coliseum as the victor basked in adoration.
Garrett found somebody who appeared to be involved in running the matches just as the loser was dragged out a side door in the pit. He asked for Press and was led to a makeshift dressing room. Before he could knock on the door, it opened.
Press came out, dressed spartanly. She wasn't exactly scantily clad, but her choice of clothing was meant to be as functional as possible, with little attention paid to aesthetics. She looked at Garrett and shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm up next," she said. "I have to defend my ranking."
He gave her a serious look. "Your ranking? What rank are you, one?"
She laughed. "No, I'm number three."
He stood aside as the six foot plus, heavily muscular Amazon of a woman walked past and through the door leading to the pit. Her opponent was already there, a smaller but nonetheless deadly looking Asian woman. Garrett scrambled to get back up to the viewing and betting area above the action.
An announcer was introducing the fighters when Garrett made it up top. Out of curiosity, he asked the person standing next to him who numbers two and one were.
"If you think she's tough," the guy said, pointing at Press. "Then you ought to see Sasha and Delilah. They're numbers two and one."
"They're badder than her?"
The guy laughed. "Sasha is dangerous … but even she's nothing compared to Delilah. Her challengers usually don't leave this place breathing."
Garrett took this in as the fight commenced. It was brutal. He had never seen anything like it before. The fight lasted little more than a minute. Press was victorious after pounding her opponent into the floor repeatedly.
He ran down to the dressing rooms again as Press was coming out the door. He watched two men drag the loser out and lay her in a corner, attempting to revive her with smelling salts. She wouldn't be pretty for awhile, but she looked like she'd make it through.
As he was congratulating Press, a woman walked out of one of the dressing rooms. She had an average build with a short brown pony tail tied back. She wasn't overly tall or overly pretty. She looked … well … average. Press eyed her intently. She returned the gaze and smiled.
"You don't want to challenge me," she said without any expression or emotion.
"Oh yes I do," Press replied.
"Fine have it your way," she replied and looked at Garrett. She smiled a predator's smile who had just found prey. "I know who you are," she said. "You should hope we don't meet under different circumstances."
The two ladies stepped into the arena and the crowd roared. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of dollars went to the bookies as the people placed their bets. This was certainly an anticipated fight. Press had just finished a match, but appeared to be focused and ready to go another round. Sasha, her opponent, looked bored and way too relaxed.
A bell sounded the beginning of the match. Press advanced on her opponent and threw a punch. Sasha dodged it with ease. Press spun around and released a back fist. This time Sasha didn't just dodge. She came up under Press' arm and delivered an uppercut, landing directly under her chin. Press hit the ground, out cold. The fight only lasted eleven seconds.
As Garrett made it to the door, it opened. Sasha dragged Press out the door and delivered her unceremoniously at Garrett's feet.
"Get her out of here," she told him. "She's done tonight." He nodded and went about reviving her.
He knew one thing for certain: Sasha was definitely not someone he wanted to have to fight. He wondered about what she had meant by different circumstances. If Delilah was supposed to be worse, he didn't even want to meet her.
When Press woke up from her nap he took her back to the hotel. She looked very disappointed in herself. She didn't say a word the whole trip back; she only laid her head against his back and remained there until they reached the hotel. She went straight to bed and was unconscious when he came out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth.
He looked around the room for a moment. The three Bonegnawers appeared to be sleeping peacefully. They had made him their leader and it was up to him to lead them now. He had begun to feel responsible for them. He only hoped that he would be able to find a way to help them.