Pack of Strays (The Fangborn Series Book 2) (29 page)

He continued. “The Family we have in the first responder units
and military—the ones who were on active duty—know what’s up and will be helping us undercover.
Representative
Nichols
is doing what she can to try to clear out as much
civilian
traffic as possible. We’re hoping we can close down South
Station
—say it’s flooding or electrical problems or the orders of Homeland
Security
.”

The short middle-aged Cousin in a plaid shirt who’d spoken with me last night appeared. Herrick Murphey spoke up as he checked something on his phone. “Gerry, we’ll want to bal
ance it
so that there are a good percentage of the vampires nearest the
populace
, to color as much of what they see as possible. Ideally, that won’t be needed, but—”

“We’ll get it done, Heck,” Gerry replied grimly. “For all the good it will do.”

“But we’ve got to hope,” Fergus said. “We’re going to hope that we can contain this without the Normals finding out about us and with minimum casualties to the Family.”

“It’s a huge risk,” Gerry said. “There’s two hundred Fellborn, maybe more, based on the size of the cargo on the shipping information Danny found us.”

I thought about what five of them had done to the village in Buell’s tablet. What the handful had done to three prepared
Fangborn
fighters in Istanbul.

“And there are a couple hundred of us, plus the Normals with Dmitri and the TRG,” I said. “We need as many Fangborn as we can get, especially if he’s got some of those super-sized models with him.”

“I’ve been saying, it’s too large a concentration of Family,” Gerry said. He began to pace, running his hand through his hair, his nerves strung like piano wire. “We risk a drastic loss in our numbers or exposure to the Normal world. We have to find
another
—”

“Gerry, may I have a word?” Fergus said. They went to one side. I could feel the tension growing between the two men. You didn’t need to be an oracle to know that Fergus was telling Gerry to get his head and his attitude in line, and that Gerry was telling him to fuck off.

“We’re starting at seven o’clock,” Claudia said deliberately, turning her back on her brother and her lover arguing. “Dinner’s in an hour, and then you should get some sleep while you can, Zoe.”

I nodded. Food and sleep and try not to think about what was coming.

I was still awake an hour after dinner, in my little dormitory-style room. I couldn’t bear to be out with the others, who were watching movies, calling their kids, or working on final preparations. I’d done all I could, and now I just had to do what I was told.

There was a knock at my door. I knew before opening it that it was Will.

My heart missed a couple of beats when I called out, “Come in.” If I stuttered, it was because I didn’t know what he might want or whether I should care.

He raised a hand in greeting and tipped his head at the chair by the door. I nodded, put down the file I’d been using. He shut the door and collapsed, looking like something the dog dragged home.

“What’s up?” I asked. It seemed the least accusatory, least freighted, most helpful thing to say. I thought it worked rather
nicely
as an opening. I would have offered him a beer if I’d had one. “You look like you’ve been to the dentist
and
the gynecologist all in one day.”

He smiled grimly; it was an old superlative we’d used. “Can’t sleep.”

“Me, neither.” We were doing well so far. Will and I were used to small talk only in the field or at home. Anywhere else, we were no good at it.

“Been thinking.”

“Oh?” I could use fewer words than he could.

“I’m confused. I’m mad at you.” He tried to keep himself at a level tone. “And … I’m mad at me. But tomorrow …”

I shrugged. “Things are going to be bad.”

“Right. I realized something. I don’t want to think about that. I’d give
anything
not to feel like the world’s going to end tomorrow. Think about how bad it could be. Even for a few measly hours, I’d like to feel something else.” He looked at me, seeing me finally. “That’s what it was like for you, wasn’t it? What you said earlier? About being … alone.”

I nodded.

“So, maybe we could not feel that way for a while—together? We don’t have to do anything. I’d just like to be here, with you, for a couple of hours. And if we survive tomorrow, we’ll sort it out fr
om ther
e.”

I sagged a little; it was such a relief. He understood. He got it. But … did I want him here? What about Adam? Claudia had said he was working out in the field. And why
didn’t
Will want to do anything? He should want to …

But being companionable, maybe sorting out a few things between us, would be far better than being alone. Mending fences, giving us both a chance to feel the old familiar comfort of each other, wasn’t a bad way to spend the night before the battle.

“Sounds good.” I turned around and patted the bed next to me, so we could sit together on the twin bed, our backs to t
he wa
ll.

I handed him my bottle. He took it, swigged, made a face. “What the hell is this?”

“Aquavit. From the Duty Free. I figured it was a deal.”

“Whatever you saved, it wasn’t enough.”

“It gets better as it goes down. You know the old saying: ‘If you’re gonna eat a shit sandwich—’”

“‘Don’t take small bites.’” He took another hit, grimaced again, handed it back to me. “Your taste in liquor has always been questionable.”

I pointed the bottle neck at him. “Expedient. You learn not to be picky when you’re broke.”

“Still. This is awful. Give me another hit.”

I laughed, and the tension evaporated.

“You want some cheese?” I said. “I brought a chunk and a piece of salami from the pantry.”

“Did you bring a knife?”

“Um, no. I was going to use this.” I held up the new trowel I’d been sharpening with the file. It had calmed my nerves.

Will had never approved of sharpened trowels—said sharpening made it too easy to cut through a soil layer when you didn’t mean to, a loss of control. And I knew he certainly didn’t approve of
this
particular trowel.

“You could have gone back to the kitchen, but as you seem reluctant …” He pulled out something I guessed was a hunting knife, with an eight-inch blade.

“Isn’t that a little overkill?”

“Not these days,” he said, handing me a slice of cheese. “Not when strange men are giving you trowels.”

“Damn it, Will! Okay, I think you should leave—” I felt my jaw ache as I clenched my teeth.

“No, no, please. I’m sorry. Please. I was trying to be funny, make light of it, and it fell flat. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry that … I didn’t automatically believe you when I saw you. I thought I was acting for your own good, in New York. A vampire had reinforced the lie.”

“Yeah, well, you could have thought it through a little more,” I said, taking a swig from my bottle. It was pleasantly warm in my stomach and was much nicer sipped rather than drunk by the tumbler-full.

He made a face. “How? Remember: vampires?”

“Danny did it,” I said. “He’d had a plan in place in case someone tried to screw up his memory. It took him a while, but he was at least open to trying to trust me. And Claudia did, when she recognized that what she knew about me professionally and personally didn’t line up with her story, that none of it jibed. She came to check it out.”

“Well, Danny thinks like a squirrel, and Claudia’s a Fangborn. They probably screwed up the synthetic vampire serum they had to use on her.”

I felt the discussion getting heated. “Will, the point is, you were the first person I trusted who wasn’t family. You were the first person I loved, and I worked like an animal to learn how to deserve that love.
And I know you worked hard at it, too.”

He nodded. “I did. And then you took off on me. Zoe, that did a number on me.”

“I know. I
know
. And it wasn’t easy for me. I only did it because I was afraid I’d kill you. I didn’t know what I was.”

“And then when people said you’d left again, I … I don’t know what. Something went off in me.”

I passed him the bottle, took a swig, then passed it back. “Okay, I get this, I ‘hear’ you—whatever you want. I really do understand. But I’m tired. And I’m scared. And if you want to hang, that’s good, but we’re not going to sort out whose trust
issues
were more compromised, who’s to blame tonight. So … time to table this.”

“Okay.” He held up the bottle; I shook my head and he put it on the desk. “Inside or outside?”

Meaning: his arms around me, or mine around him. “Inside.”

So Will scrunched up against the wall, and I nestled my back into his chest. It was an old memory, long cherished and comforting, and I found myself relaxing into sleep.

“What if Adam shows up?” I said drowsily.

“I’m not spooning him,” Will said into the back of my head. “Zoe, go to sleep. Don’t worry about Adam. We’re not doing anything.” He pulled back abruptly. “Are we?”

“No,” I said firmly, pulling the blanket up in a determined way. “If he does show up, I’m leaving. You two can have the bed, sort things out, whatever. I need sleep.”

Will sighed, resigned. “Just leave me the bottle.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Trust the Fangborn: if we were leaving at six o’clock, someone would be up making breakfast at five. The smell of coffee was the only thing that might have lured me out from under my covers. Will had gotten up earlier to take a shower and confer with Heck.
Nothing
had happened between us but a clearing of the air, and that was a better result than I could have hoped for.

If there was any question whether Fangborn could eat what might be their last meal, it had been answered now. Flocks of sausage, an army of eggs, mounds of pancakes, crates of fruit. There were three lines in front of coffee urns.

Finally, a woman said, “Ten minutes, everyone. The oracles don’t have any change in forecast, but there are a few personnel rearrangements; group leaders will redirect you when you form up. Take your corners, if you want. Good luck.”

I didn’t have to wait long to find out what she meant by “
corners
.” Groups of Fangborn broke off into groups for prayer in every denomination, every faith. There weren’t enough corners, but the groups arranged themselves around the periphery of the room.

A couple of us went back for more coffee.

After a few moments, the same woman said, “Five minutes: have a pee, gear up. Then I’ll see you downstairs at the buses and vans.”

Well, that’s frank,
I thought. But it was practical advice, so I followed it.

I joined the others, and we took different routes to buses and trucks waiting to transport us down to the waterfront. No sense in all of us going in one big clump.

The bus was quiet on the way from the South End to the
waterfront
: everyone had too much to think about. Whatever happened today would have gigantic repercussions for everyone on the buses, possibly everyone on the planet. I tried not to recall the two visions I’d had in the basement near the spring and in the torched Istanbul warehouse. There weren’t any good choices: If I got used to being around people, trusting them, I ran the risk of messiness, betrayal, and hurt. It also meant I was human. But if I took the safe road, tried to isolate myself, tried to do what was right, it happened anyway. You don’t get away from the messiness and the potential for hurt, you just make the best of it by doing what you can.

When I got off the bus, it was still early. Very few cars were around, and I remembered that they were going to try for an
electrical
outage, so people would stay home. The evacuation of civilians was underway.

Someone nudged my arm. “Hey, you.”

It was Will.

“Hey. You’re going to be here?”

“Yep.” Neither one of us had gotten a lot of sleep, but he looked a lot better. “Not fast enough or vampy enough for the front line at Congress and Summer Streets, but I can help here.”

“Good. I’m glad.” I smiled. “Will, what if—?”

A knitting needle went through my gut, and I doubled over. A flash of an artifact, a mask. Scarlet, black, and white.

“Oh, not now!” I cried.

I’d drawn attention to myself, and Will’s wasn’t the only alarmed face. “Zoe, what is it?”

I need to stay here, I want to fight—

I suddenly knew where Sebastian Porter was. He was nearby. He had just taken the artifact from a safe. I tried to resist the pain, to see if I could make it lessen, as I had been able to resist the Call to Change.

No dice. It felt as if my bones were shrinking inside my skin.

“I have to go,” I gasped. “I know where Porter is!”

“He’s actually here?” Will asked.

“Yes.” Another flash of fiery pain. “Will, I have to go
now
.”

My phone rang.

“I’ll come with you,” Will said, looking around in a panic.

“No, Will—” I answered the phone. “Hey, Vee? Yeah, me, too. No, good. Will is going to bring you over, okay? I don’t want you out there on your own. See you in ten.”

I hung up. “Will, you can come with me, but you need to pick up Vee, first. She saw I needed her, and she’s going to help me. So you go back to the Family house, and get her to the Schuyler Building safely. Got that? I’m gonna need her if she’s seeing me, too.”

“Zoe, look, let me help—”

“This
is
helping. I need you to get Vee, so I can get to Porter.
Please
.”

He hesitated. “I’ll go, but first, let me get you an escort.”

“We have no time, and there are no bodies to spare,” I
said. “Everyone we have here, we need here. If you can talk to H
eck Murph
ey, let him know what I’m doing. But get Vee, and please, please let me go
now
!”

He nodded and gave me a quick kiss. “Be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Wait!” He reached under his windbreaker. “Take this.”

He handed me the knife he’d used to cut the snacks last night, its long black handle first. “You said you weren’t comfortable with guns, and I know you have claws. But I’d feel better if you h
ad this
.”

I kissed him on the cheek as I took it. “Thank you.”

The Schuyler Building was an old building in a small park by the edge of the pier near Seaport Street. Once upon a time, it had been a counting house, or a warehouse, but now it was being fitted out for a restaurant and trendy offices. The electricity was off—which had been a good thing in making our evacuation stories ring true—but it meant I had to climb up the gorgeous new stairwell encased in glass. The autumn sun made a furnace of the stairwell, and with no AC, I was sweating. Poached Zoe under glass.

Three stories up the stairwell, I could see the battle starting.

Flashing lights of emergency vehicles in ranks across
Atlantic
Avenue, and more than that, there were military vehicles
rolling
toward
Summer and Congress Streets and Seaport Boulevard. Representative Nichols had managed to get forces on the ground, and the streets were strangely emptied. No trains moved, no boats sailed, and there was no traffic but officialdom. Blocks away, I saw news vans …

In front of the flashing lights, what I thought was a cloud of dust resolved into figures moving to the waterfront. The Family had been successful in luring out the Fellborn. The idea was that the emergency and military vehicles would follow closely, looking for stray Fellborn and keep them herding across Fort Point Channel to where the rest of the Fangborn were waiting.

I was able to differentiate them by a simple, ingenious
solution
: The Fangborn were all wearing neon reflective vests, the sorts of things runners wear at night. The Fellborn were disguised, as much as they could be, in human clothing. The Fangborn needed a way to distinguish their own in the heat of battle, among the confusing scents.

The Fangborn made it to where the reinforcements were waiting to relieve them. They attacked with unimaginable ferocity. I couldn’t hear the screams and growls; it was like watching a
violent
silent movie from a distance.

And then it wasn’t. I found myself out of the glass tower, observing from overhead, as with my vision at the asylum—but in the here and now. A cacophony of growls and screams. The Fellborn weren’t alone; the upgraded Mark Twos were with them, and members of the Order. The smell of hellebore was heavy in the air; the Fangborn had taken the precaution of masks.

I started to recognize people I knew.

Toshi clung to the back of an enormous Mark Two, his claws sunk into the creature’s neck until black blood ran. Toshi’s fangs were bared in anger, and when that Fellborn dropped, he
bounded
after another. He got more than he wanted; two of the smaller
Fellborn
glommed onto him, but Toshi’s snakelike face showed vengeful joy at the chance. He was in over his head … in danger of being overwhelmed …

Adam saw Toshi go down, then waded over. Put a bullet in the head of one of the Fellborn and dragged Toshi out from under it.

Both men were bloodied, and I strained to see where the
Steubens
were. I had a terrible thought that this was like one of my visions of what the future held—

A blade through my gut. The smell of burning wood in my nose. Time to go—

I slammed back into my own body abruptly. I expected to feel the distress that drove me to the artifacts, but only found my proximity sense going bananas. I looked up just in time.

The Mark Two and I surprised each other. I’d been intent on bloody thoughts, and because I smelled so little like a regular Fangborn, I wasn’t showing up on its radar. It was in the bloody rags of what had been a track suit.

I half-Changed. This I could do something about.

It came for me, and I feinted left before dodging right and throwing a kick. It was quicker than I thought, and stronger, and blocked me easily. I ended up under it, my back almost breaking as it tried to force me over the railing. The stench was awful, and not all of the guttural noises came from its throat.

Its claws slid over my shoulders, tearing fabric and flesh, and reached my neck. I couldn’t shift its hands; I couldn’t pull away.

Black spots dancing in front of my eyes, I fell back on habit. Using every bit of discipline I had, I braced myself against the railing and locked my ankles around its legs so I would not go over. I released its hand and reached to the back of my cargo pants. I pulled out the trowel Adam had given me, the one I’d spent all night sharpening.

I jammed the trowel into the creature’s gut. Then, using both hands, I yanked with all my might across its belly.

At first, I thought I must have missed—that the trowel had snagged on its clothing. Its hands fell away so suddenly, the pressure off me so quickly, I fell to my knees, oxygen rushing into
my lung
s.

No, the trowel went in. I could see the blood rushing from the creature. But it pulled the trowel out and advanced on me with it.

I held up my hand, to hold it off, praying for a miracle.

The force of the energy caught it dead center, and it pitched down sideways. It hit the bottom floor with its head at an angle that was off about forty-five degrees, telling me that it wouldn’t be getting back up again.

I’d blasted it. The Fellborn had taken my trowel with it. No time to get the trowel back.

Its bite reminded me of the dying Fangborn in Istanbul telling Toshi that Fellborn DNA had been broken down and altered with something derived from black hellebore. I rolled over and retched. Hauling myself up, I staggered a few steps to lean against one of the pillars.

Damn it. I hadn’t even thought to see if it knew anything, if it could communicate at all. I’d been too busy trying to stay alive.

I glanced up the stairwell, rubbing at my shoulders, trying not to think what they must look like. Three flights to go.

My phone rang, making me jump.

It was Vee.

“Where are you?”

“Downstairs,” she shouted. “It’s holy hell outside, Zoe—Zoe, Dan’s hurt.”

“How bad?” Why was he here? I thought of what it looked like outside and realized: I really didn’t have time to ask about Danny. I kept climbing.

I could hear the tears in her voice, the fear. “It’s bad. He got … his stomach is pretty torn up. Will’s here. I’m coming up; he’ll follow as soon as we get a medic or a vampire for Dan.”

She’s no good to me in this state,
I thought. Danny needed her. “You should stay with him—”

“I should, but you need me more. If you don’t—it’s gonna get this bad for all of us.”

Relief washed over me. “Vee—hurry. Top floor.”

“Yeah, Zoe—I already know. Remember?” There was a little of the old Vee in her voice. “I saw
you
.”

“So, get here already.”

One last deep breath, and I concentrated on ignoring my shoulder, my leg, and my jaw, and continued climbing up the stairs.

Nothing on the next floor. My back healed, feeling scratchy. I needed a bath and a drink for about a week. Maybe a bath in a drink. The pain began to fade to an ache.

But another one of the Mark Twos was coming downstairs.

My hand reached for my trowel, but that was already gone. Will’s knife found its way into my hand. So intent was the Fellborn on its charge that when I stepped aside, it went sailing down to the next flight. I was on it in a minute and I put Will’s knife under its chin. It was dying.

“Where is Porter’s office? Tell me what you know.”

I couldn’t understand it at first, as growling masked its raspy voice. Eventually, though, as in my vision with the Moor, the signal cleared, and I was able to understand it.

“… I know it was hunger
that
roused me from what I’d been before. I know meat and blood are the only things that ease the pangs in my belly and the scorpions crawling through my brain, and that is withheld if I do not obey. I know there are needles, every night, that bite deep, but make me stronger, and more, in the morning, to make me understand better. I only know what I am told, to destroy the fanged ones, and any hairless I find, to make it look like the fanged ones have done it. I know my blood sings when theirs runs, and blots out the smell that draws me to them. That is all I know, for that is all I am. A tool needs no more than that.”