A Shade of Vampire 32: A Day of Glory (15 page)

O
nce Atticus’s
men came for him, we knew that the clock was ticking in regards to how much longer we could keep him hostage. Either we had to get rid of the distraction, or leave, allowing Atticus to go free.

I was unwilling to do the latter. As they burst through the door of Atticus’s office, Kailyn and I launched at the men. Taking them by surprise, we slammed books into their heads, knocking them out. This bought us some more time. We dragged them into the hallway and left them there unconscious.

Then we returned to Atticus, who was still looking fairly calm. He’d scored a victory in getting all of the major news channels shut down. And even though he was trapped in here with us, unable to make contact with anyone outside, he knew what was happening now. Just like we did. The IBSI would be in the process of regaining control. But we weren’t ready to leave yet. Not now that we had him. I was still holding out hope that my father would arrive, albeit late. And as the news channels suddenly flickered on again, depicting an epic battle taking place in Chicago’s residential quarters, my hope was realized.

“Thank heavens!” Kailyn exclaimed, moving closer to the screen and gaping.

My father had arrived with an army of Hawks and witches. On witnessing the sheer number of supernaturals he’d brought with him, I felt a resurgence of confidence.

We can do this. I know we can!

My eyes shot to Atticus, still bound to his chair. “Well,” I taunted, “what do you make of this?”

His face was stony, and as much as I could tell that he was trying to hide his dismay, emotions trickled through.

He did not respond.

I snatched up the landline on his desk.

“It’s over,” I told him. “Can’t you see? Tell your men to withdraw now and you will spare many of your employees’ lives.”
Not that you care.

Atticus’s mouth remained pressed in a hard line. Witnessing the IBSI members continuing to put up a fight was a disappointment to me. In the face of such an army as my father had summoned, I was hoping that some would’ve surrendered. But from the looks of it, none had. Perhaps we needed to fight them longer before they dared to jump ship. Assert our superiority beyond a shadow of a doubt. I imagined the brainwashing they would’ve received from the organization, and the fear in their hearts if they ever broke away from it. Considering the IBSI’s history of tracking people down and assassinating them, I could hardly blame them.

I glared at Atticus. “Well, in that case, perhaps we will take you outside to give you a better view.”

T
he mutant flew
with me over the streets, flying at such an angle that I struggled to even twist around within its grasp. But when I managed it, I found myself gazing up at a hunter. Oliver Hyatt, no less. He wasn’t wearing his mask, and as I glanced up at him, he glared down at me.

“You started all this, Lawrence,” he said, his voice menacing.

Reaching another roof, the mutant dropped me. I fell to the ground, softening my fall with my forearms, before shooting to my feet. When I had been swept up by the mutant, the shock of it had caused me to drop my gun. I still had my blades tucked into my belt, but as Oliver stepped off the mutant and advanced toward me, he was holding a gun.

“What do you think you will gain by shooting me?” I asked him. “Do you think my father will be pleased?”

The answer to that was probably yes, but I was curious to hear it from his own lips.

“Whether or not your father would be pleased,” the man replied, “doesn’t matter. Because he will never know.” His lips curled. “The dead don’t talk, Lawrence.”

Oliver pulled the trigger, a bullet shooting from the barrel. With my supernatural speed, I managed to duck in time before it could hit me. I jerked backward, across the roof, and threw myself behind a cluster of thick pipes.

I reached for the knives in my belt and pulled them out. Then, both swiftly and cautiously, I raised my head slightly to glimpse the approaching hunter. He fired again. I ducked, the bullet bouncing off a metal pipe, only inches away from my ear.

“You’re wasting your time,” I called out.

Crouching low, I moved to my right along the pipes, to the edge of the roof. The reason for my uttering that particular statement was to mark my location in his mind—before hurrying away from it. My trick worked. As I poked my head up again, he was still watching the area where I had spoken, giving me the chance to raise one of my knives and hurl it in Oliver’s direction.

But to my alarm, he dodged it in time.

There was no way that he could’ve done that had he been a normal human. The knife would’ve hit him square in the chest.

Instead he moved as swiftly as I was capable of moving. He must have taken the enhancement drug too. He was on my level.

Dammit
.

I tightened my grip around the handle of my remaining blade. My eyes raked the sky. A dragon or a Hawk hanging around here would really come in useful right now. But I could not depend on being saved.

“Why don’t you throw the other knife, Lawrence?” Oliver’s voice spoke behind me. “I’m ready for it.”

He shot another bullet in my direction. It wasn’t safe to take shelter behind this cluster of pipes any longer. I loped across the roof, dodging as he fired more bullets my way. I threw myself behind the wall of a rectangular storage chamber. Perhaps for gas or electricity. I knew that this was going to be a short-lived game of hide and seek. I had to get off this roof. I heard his footsteps circling the walls. I inched around, leading him along, until I found myself on the side of the mutant.

That mutant. As I stared at it now, I realized that I recognized it—
him
. It was Jez. He was a popular choice for IBSI leaders to take out on a ride because of his obedience and easy-going nature compared to the other younger beasts.

The fact that he didn’t immediately launch at me again when he saw me told me that he recognized me too. He had scooped me up before because it had been an order from his rider, but now that he had no rider… He was showing no signs of wanting to attack me.

Attempting to buy myself some more time and come up with a plan, I circled the walls again, to avoid Oliver.

When I roamed around the walls for a third time and the mutant came into view, still waiting in the same spot, I was about to simply launch myself at him, deeming that the best way out of the situation. But I stalled as Oliver shouted out in frustration, “Oh, come on, Lawrence. Stop running away. I didn’t know you were such a coward.”

Says the man holding a gun.

“I’ll drop my gun if you like. Why don’t you fight me, man to man?”

I swallowed. I didn’t like the idea of running away, either. I would much rather face him and finish him off if that was what it took to get him off my tail.

“Throw your gun away then,” I told him. “Throw it toward the mutant, where I can see it.”

I was surprised when Oliver did exactly that. That could have just been a trick by me—have him throw it there before I scooped it up. But apparently he believed that I had enough integrity to not do that. And I did. I respected him for putting the gun down. I didn’t put my own blade down in turn, however. I wasn’t that stupid. He could still be equipped with some hidden weapon because I hadn’t searched him yet.

I peered around the corner cautiously to check that he did not have a second gun on his person. He didn’t.

He was standing in the middle of the roof. He had nothing in his hands. He rolled up his sleeves as he glared at me. Then he raised a brow. “Not going to put down your own weapon?”

“Turn around,” I told him.

He did so, and since I couldn’t see any telltale signs of a weapon on him, I placed my weapon down. The mutant let out a squawk as the two of us began to circle. Our eyes locked.

He leapt forward first, rushing at me with his fists bared. He swung a punch at me, but I blocked, just as swiftly. Then I went in for the takedown. Throwing myself at his knees, I floored him before crawling on top of him. We each moved as fast as the other as he struggled to break free while I fought to maintain my control over him. I managed to knee him in the groin, weakening him, while catching his neck in a firm hold. In spite of all the evil he was responsible for perpetrating, I couldn’t say that I truly wanted to kill him. I was tired of bloodshed. I had witnessed enough not just for one day, but for one lifetime.

But as Oliver managed to break free of my hold enough to shoot a hand up to my throat, it was clear that he saw this as a fight to the death, not just fight till surrender. And so it appeared that I had no choice but to play his game.

I moved upward abruptly, managing to jerk away from his grip. He shot to his feet after me. I landed a kick against his chest, forcing him backward toward the edge of the building. I surged forward, taking advantage of his unsteadiness, and managed to throw another kick, forcing him a few feet further backward still, until he managed to ground himself. He lunged and landed a punch on my left cheek, so hard that I felt my skin split. At least it hadn’t landed on my nose. A punch that powerful to my nose would’ve debilitated me for several seconds.

He hurled himself at me, aiming for my throat again. As I fought him off, I deliberately moved him closer toward the roof’s perimeter.

I wanted to make this quick now. I had other matters to attend to. I wanted to see what was going on with the others, and I also wondered where my father was now: what Ben had done, or was still doing, to him.

Oliver sensed what my game plan was. He attempted to move forward, keep us away from the edge, but I kept inching us nearer. This was, of course, also risky for me. If he got the advantage over me, I could be the one plunging down the side of the building, falling God knew how many feet and splattering on the pavement.

It was a calculated risk.

I aimed for his groin again with my knee, knowing that second shot would weaken him considerably. But he managed to block it, noticing my aim too soon.

He caught me again in the cheek, the same spot he caught last time, tearing my skin further. I felt the blood flowing down my face and trailing to my neck. I had to be careful not to be caught in the eye—it would swell up almost instantly from the force of the impact.

I returned the punch, catching him in the jaw and sending him reeling backward. He tripped over a pipe and fell. Here, I saw my golden opportunity. I pounced on him, grabbing him by the collar while he was still recovering from my punch, and dragged him toward the edge of the building. I kneed him again, this time managing to hit his groin. He groaned as I fought to wrestle him over the edge.

He grabbed hold of my arms, as I’d been expecting him to. If he was going down, he wanted me to go with him.

Perhaps he was not aware that I had experience with the particular mutant that he had brought along with him. Or more likely, he was simply too distracted to think of it. Whatever the case, I let out a sharp whistle through my teeth that Jez was used to obeying from me.

Now that he had no other rider, he was a free agent. He came flying over to us. On realizing what I was doing, Oliver struggled harder, continuing his attempts to force me back, return the fight to the center of the roof. But I fought with all I had to keep him where he was now that I’d gotten him so close to the edge. I needed a little help from Jez to finish off the job.

As the mutant approached, I drove a hand into the tough feathers around his neck and held onto him for support as I thrust a kick against the man’s gut. This proved to be effective in breaking his hold on me. He tipped backward, his upper half reeling over the edge. His feet still on the ground, I dropped down and grabbed his ankles. I lifted them upward abruptly to tip him over completely.

But when he was seconds from falling, his right arm shot down and grabbed the back of my shirt. As he began to fall, I didn’t have enough warning to tear the shirt off myself. I found myself being tugged with him, toppling over the edge.

And then the two of us were falling.

The dull gray concrete beneath us was the sight of death. My life flashed before me. Oliver’s scream pierced my ears as he plunged beside me. Then came another scream that was neither Oliver’s nor my own.

It was a shriek that came from above. As I was barely seven feet from hitting the ground, strong talons closed around my shoulders. With a lurch that felt like it dislocated both of my shoulders, I was brought to an abrupt stop, about five feet over the pavement.

Oliver was not so lucky.

He hit the ground with a sickening splat and disintegrated like a ripe tomato. Tearing my eyes away from his mangled body, I gazed up at my savior. Jez could’ve saved either of us; we were both his masters. Yet he’d chosen to save me.

I supposed somewhere along the line, I must’ve treated him better. Something I was
dearly
thankful for.

He lowered me to the ground gently, where I collapsed for a few moments, my legs shaking from the shock. I had definitely injured my shoulders. I could hardly move them without pain shooting down my arms. But that shouldn’t be anything one of the witches couldn’t fix in a jiffy.

I glanced at Jez as he moved closer to me, and inhaled slowly. “Okay, friend. Let’s get back to business.”

W
e finally managed
to debilitate enough of the mutants to allow the ogres and werewolves to make an entrance. They came sweeping through the city like a tsunami, the werewolves growling, the ogres bellowing, as they destroyed any remaining IBSI members who had not yet surrendered… And indeed, in the process of taking down the mutants, a number of the IBSI members had finally realized that it was in their best interest to jump ship.

We gathered every surrendered man and woman together on two roofs. Ibrahim and Horatio kept an eye on them to be sure they meant what they said, and weren’t about to try anything funny.

Throughout the fight, more and more helicopters had arrived and dared to move closer to watch. Lights flashed from the aircrafts; they were reporters, rendering my little camera defunct. I’d caught enough footage by now anyway, and when I had joined Sofia on her dragon, she had taken over filming for a while.

We had more than enough to demonstrate the IBSI’s ass-kicking.

Now that we had mostly finished the battle in the sky, it was important for us to monitor what was going on at ground level with the ogres and the werewolves. I still felt uneasy about the ogres in particular. I caught sight of Anselm, who, to my surprise, was at the front of the ogre army, leading them forward as they coursed through street after street. I’d deliberately had the werewolves come in first. I trusted them more around humans. They searched within what was left of the buildings, and managed to find a few stray humans who had managed to survive in spite of the blaze, though, sadly, far more dead bodies were found than live ones.

All along, I had been prepared for more IBSI recruits to come swooping down on us. After all, they had members spread all over the United States. It would not have taken them all that long to assemble another army to come in to counteract us. But I believed, on witnessing the destruction that we had caused, they had decided against it. They had witnessed our army—so massive and multifaceted that even with all their mutants they simply couldn’t compete. We had so many dragons now who could easily tackle the mutants, not to mention all the witches and Hawks, along with our ground army. It seemed that, finally, the day had come when their egos had been beaten down to size. The IBSI had realized that they were no match for TSL.

All this was just another reason why it was so important for us to have our activities broadcast. We needed not only the world to witness our strength and organization, but also the other IBSI’s bases. Once we had finished dealing with Chicago, we would need to move on to the other affected cities, New York and Los Angeles, and then beyond. Hopefully, after this, the IBSI would not put up a fight there. But more than anything, I hoped that after this, their government support would be withdrawn. Something I was sure the authorities would’ve done long ago, if only they’d had a viable alternative.

I believed today was that day. A day of glory. A milestone in history. Not just for us, but for the world. Although we had much, much more work ahead of us—we had not even scratched the surface—this one battle would have an ongoing effect, and as dramatic as it sounded, it would alter the world’s future.

I was drawn from my thoughts by an ogre roaring up to me, “Can I eat this human?”

My eyes shot toward him. An obese ogre if ever I saw one, his meaty hands were clamped around the skull of a stray IBSI member, who was struggling to break free from his grip.

I frowned in disdain at the ogre. At least he knew to ask permission from me. That much, I supposed, was commendable.

“No!” I barked down gruffly. “IBSI member or not, you’re not allowed to eat anybody.”

We had given permission to the ogres to kill our enemies, but not to eat them. They needed to get in the habit of abstaining from human flesh while they were on Earth, because I feared eating one man could lead to eating another, and then another, until they spiraled out of control and began eating innocents too.

“Please! I surrender!” the IBSI member gasped as he flailed.

I leapt from the dragon and landed next to the ogre and his struggling victim. My heart softened a little as I noted how young the IBSI man was. He didn’t look much older than twenty. I was sure that he had loved ones somewhere waiting for him to come home.

“Let him go,” I ordered the ogre.

The ogre huffed but relinquished his grip on him, sending him crumpling to the ground unceremoniously. I towered over the man, my arms crossed over my chest.

“Give me a reason to spare your life,” I said, my menacing tone masking any softness I might’ve been feeling inside.

“I renounce the IBSI, and everything it stands for! I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Just don’t kill me.”

“Do you understand why it was wrong to align yourself with the IBSI to begin with?” I prodded.

He nodded.

“Explain to me why.”

“Because they never used the power they had for good. They exploited it. They piled resources into methods that were against the interest of the general population.”

“Hm. Well said… All right. You will be spared.”

He let out a deep gasp of relief, while the ogre looked rather disappointed that he couldn’t at least take a swipe at the man’s skull with his club.

“Move along,” I told the ogre. “There’s still work to be done.”

I allowed the IBSI member to climb onto Neros’s back with Sofia and me. We soared him toward a rooftop where some of his colleagues were waiting.

“Mom! Dad!”

Sofia and I twisted around toward the voice of our son behind us. He was soaring toward our rooftop with Kailyn and… Atticus. He was sandwiched in the middle of the two fae as they carried him.

His hands strapped behind his back by makeshift cuffs, Atticus’s lined face was stoic. He refused to look me in the eye. He seemed to have already sensed that the game was up. I wondered how long he, Kailyn and Ben had been watching the scene.

I leapt off Neros and came face to face with the man who had caused the world so much grief and suffering. I stroked my jaw.
Interesting. Very interesting.

“What do you think we should do with him?” Ben asked, an unmistakable spark of triumph in his eyes. He had a particular bone to pick with Atticus, given everything Atticus had put poor Grace through.

As I mulled over the matter, I could think of many things that I would like to do with this man.
Oh, decisions, decisions.
Lock him in a cage with a Bloodless? Throw him to our ogres and inform them that he was the one and only exception to my no-human-eating rule? Or maybe even make a special little trip to the ghouls’ portal on the coast of Maine? If anybody deserved “time out” in The Underworld, it was Atticus.

I was about to ask Ben for his opinion when a loud thump sounded to our left. I was shocked to see a mutant descend in our midst and immediately sprang into defense mode… until I realized that atop the mutant was Lawrence.

He looked like he’d been through the mill. His face was bleeding and cut up, his hair as tangled as a bird’s nest.

Finally, Atticus raised his gaze to look at his son—but only for a moment, before he looked down again.

I imagined how humiliating this must be for him.

Lawrence moved stiffly toward us, his eyes trained on his father.

“Lawrence,” I said brightly. “You’ve arrived just in time. We’ve been discussing what we ought to do with your father but, really, I think that is a decision that should be left to you.”

Given Atticus’s responsibility for the murder of his mother, that seemed to be only right.

Lawrence breathed in through his nose, his lips pursing as he gazed at his father with deep disdain. There was a pause of a few minutes as he circled him silently.

Finally, Lawrence’s lips parted and he spoke in a deep voice. “I think I know exactly what we ought to do with you, Father… It’s about time you face the public.”