Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) (18 page)

Samuels mulled over their options, then instructed Reese to ‘turn
this boat around and haul ass.’ To Magda he gave an admiring glance, his palm
resting on her thigh, the fingers kneading her flesh under cover of the map.
She squirmed but that only encouraged him to slide his hand further up, nearly
touching the hem of the leather shorts that sat within a hair’s breadth of
impropriety.

Clothes impeded her movement when she fought, so she went
minimalist and had some scars to prove it. But with Samuels going touchy-feely
on her skin, she might have to consider adding a chastity belt to the ensemble.
The man left no doubt he was interested in what she had to offer, though which
skill set he had in mind was up for debate.

The prospects of having to fend him off on a daily basis made
their relocation to
his
city less inviting by the minute. She imagined
squeezing his balls until they popped like balloons, not bothering to mask her
thoughts.

Rinj gave a small sigh of pleasure, his mouth in an ‘O’ of
ecstasy.

Fuck.

Samuels snorted, “Later, Pet. Your cell is buzzing.” To the others
he said, “People, I believe it’s game time.”

Magda carefully blocked everything out, too aware that Samuels and
Rinj would take her to the woodshed for denying them access, but in combat it
was the only way she could function. And she had no doubt that hostilities had
commenced with the first buzz at her hip.

She flipped the cell open and barked, “Tell me.” Listening
carefully, she nodded as the caller relayed instructions, then said, “Got it.
If you hurt him…” The call ended and she looked down at the map.

“Pet?” Samuels looked both annoyed and concerned at the same time.

The sounds of traffic and human chatter, the white noise of a city
waking up, the shallow breathing of men preparing for battle… all receded until
a black hole of silence bubbled around her in anticipation.

Magda looked down the line of warriors, acknowledging each in
turn, then said, “Good news and bad news.” Smiling wryly, she confirmed, “We
were right about the location.”

Catrina tensed next to her as Rinj asked the question, “And the
bad news?”

“They’ve got Damien.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Kill Zone

“Are you sure, Pet?”

“Yes.”

Damien’s screams still echoed in her head, long drawn-out waves of
agony. Even with the overload of morphine, a drug only excreted through urine,
thus impossible to blow off without massive injections of her blood as
countermeasures, he suffered. Terribly.

Catrina trembled next to her. She felt it also. Why the others
could not was no mystery.
They
weren’t his children. She and the girl
were linked in ways none of the others could understand.

Except for Samuels. He knew. Because he was the same as Damien,
possessing similar weird DNA, an unlikely accident of breeding and bloodlines.
But it would be once removed, not nearly so up close and personal.

For Magda it was bad enough but Catrina… Whatever juju the girl
carried, it magnified, amplified, crushed and controlled her. Magda sensed the
agony cascading through the child-woman, as did Rinj. The man clasped the
girl’s hand in a bone-crushing grip, willing strength and calm into a psyche
ready to implode under the assault.

Somewhere in her brain it registered that weapons passed from
hand-to-hand, bodies shifted, bones creaked, snapping into alignment, lungs
drew in ragged breaths, Vibram soles scuffed the close pile weave on the floor.

Reese motioned to her field commander to pass the extra clips.
Javier asked if they were hollow point, someone responded with a ‘hell, yeah.’
The vamps smirked and looked back at Samuels.

Even with young vamps, standard issue ordnance would only annoy
them, though with luck it might slow them down, but the real job would fall to
the four vamps sitting like stone statues to Samuels’ left.

Reese passed the baton to Magda and instructed her men to follow
her lead. As one they turned and respectfully gave her their full attention.

Magda sat up straight, shouldering Samuels aside, filling the
space with authority and purpose. She looked at each man, taking his measure,
weighing faults, looking for any weak links. The air hung heavy with
anticipation, and an undercurrent of assurance. They’d been tested in the
deserts of the ‘Stans and the desolation of East Africa.

They were the best that money could buy… and they would kill
anyone just for saying that.

Satisfied with what she saw, Magda kept her observations short and
sweet, avoiding speculation.

“They will have direct access to water. We won’t know how best to
deploy until we get closer and determine the exact location. I can guarantee we
will not have tactical advantage.”

One of the humans asked, “Ma’am, how will you be able to
determine…?”

“Not me,” she pointed to Catrina, “…her.”

Trina was in lockdown, multitasking, using Rinj’s power to amplify
her homing abilities, the blood link growing more powerful as they approached
the target.

The driver made a left turn off route 39 and drove for a short
distance, lights off, using the ambient illumination from the small cottages
lining both sides of the street to help him negotiate the narrow clearance.
After glancing several times in the rear view mirrors, he muttered something to
Reese.

Samuels asked, “What is it, Captain?”

“They’ve got outliers, a truck on the street, a car in a driveway,
both with eyes.”

Rinj snorted, “You’re driving the Queen Mary down a backwater road
to nowhere and you didn’t expect somebody’d notice?”

Magda ignored the remark and lunged to the front of the vehicle,
shoving past the booted feet and weapons tripping her up. She wriggled between
the front seats and twisted the GPS display so she could see it better. Reese
asked, "Magnify?” but didn’t wait for a reply. She tapped on the screen,
zeroing in on the neighborhood to the east of the main highway.

Magda said, “Whoa, stop there. Do you see that?” Samuels asked ‘what’
but everyone ignored him and strained to see what held both Reese’s and the
warrior woman’s interest.

Reese mumbled, “Yeah, uh, wait a min…” She fiddled with the gain
and grunted her assent. To the driver, she said, “Dan, turn right on the next
street. And slow to a crawl. We need to think this through.”

The driver complied, letting the limo idle past the clutter of
rust buckets lining the street.

Reese spoke out loud, sharing what both she and the warrior
hunched over the GPS console could see but the others could not.

“The canal runs roughly north, south. There’s a street paralleling
the canal but it’s got a break between the subdivisions.” She looked to Magda
and asked, “Too wet to build, swamp maybe?”

Magda ran a fingernail across the screen. Agreeing with the
Captain’s assessment, she said, “Most likely. They’re smart. Smarter ’n I’d
give them credit for.” She cringed as Samuel’s and Rinj’s ire practically
seered her through the leather jerkin.

Tough shit, they need to know what they’re up against…

Rinj backed off but the Council head continued to stroke her flesh
with the promise of punishment for her impertinence.

Reese turned in the seat and explained their dilemma to the faces
barely illuminated in the weak ambient light.

“There’s two blocks of housing, probably vacation or fishing
cottages, both separated by open space. We can’t know exactly which one has our
target, except…”

Magda interrupted, “There’s a bridge going across the canal and
another road on the east side that stops,” she moved the display down,
following the thin line running back north, “…here, at a small inlet canal, a
feeder, whatever. It’s a dead end. No other access point, just the canal.
That’s where they are.”

One of the mercs asked, “How can you be so sure?”

Catrina finally spoke up, “You’re right, Mags, that’s where he is.
But the trace is weak and getting weaker.”

Both Reese and Magda said, “Shit,” in unison.

Into the silence, Rinj offered the obvious, “It’s a trap.” Magda
and the Captain exchanged a look of ‘no shit, Dick Tracey’ but continued to
explore what they could of the surrounding terrain, looking for all possible
access and egress points.

The driver eased into an intersection and stopped, waiting for
further instructions.

Catrina jostled her way forward as the mercs moved to allow her
space to sit and look over the Captain’s shoulder.

“Mags, Captain, do you see that driveway up on the left?” The
women nodded. “Okay, pull in there. Nobody’s home.”

Reese raised an eyebrow as Magda mouthed ‘witch’. The spot was a
good catch, the short driveway shrouded with swamp maple and palmetto that
would afford them some shelter. As the driver maneuvered along the narrow
length, Catrina and Magda exchanged a silent communication.

Gab’s dead, Mags.

I know, baby. He was dead the minute they took him.

Damien’s hurting. I can’t tell how much longer he’s got. We need
to hurry…

Magda winced. They were close enough she could feel her Sire’s
agony as a distant ache. How Catrina managed was beyond her. The only thing
saving him was the flood of morphine coursing through his veins. At some point
he’d give in, his system would shut down and Trinity would think they’d lost
their bargaining chip. That should lead to panic, and panicked vamps,
especially young ones, often made poor choices.

All they needed to do was spring the trap without too much loss of
life.

Magda guided Catrina to the rear of the vehicle while Reese
explained to her people what needed to be done. She dispatched a man to the
south end of the canal off a short spur below the bridge. He would be the
fallback position should the Trinity people opt to head south, although she
explained that was unlikely.

Rinj asked why, so Reese elaborated. “The canal runs roughly
north, northwest with a dogleg a half mile or so from here. Eventually it picks
up and parallels Forty Arpent Canal Road and dead-ends at route 49…” she paused
for effect, then said, “…at an Enterprise Rent-a-Car place.”

Rinj mouthed an ‘oh’ of understanding, gave Samuels a considered
look, shrugged and jumped out of the vehicle to join the knot of vampire
assassins awaiting his orders.

As Magda, Samuels and Catrina spilled out of the transport, one of
Reese’s men offered each of them a Sig Sauer in a holster slung carelessly over
his broad shoulder. They all declined, although Catrina paused to consider a
twelve gauge shotgun leaning against a tree trunk. Magda nodded approval. The
girl was not going in as part of the strike force. She would remain behind,
with the driver, and monitor communications. A shotgun, loaded with birdshot,
would seriously slow down anyone coming up from the highway side. She hadn’t
forgotten about those ‘eyes’ the driver had picked up on their way into the
subdivision.

The girl was deadly accurate with firearms, and with her superior
night vision she was the logical choice to watch all their backs.

Still not satisfied that she’d covered all contingencies, Magda
muttered, “A boat. I need a fucking boat.”

She knew there was no way in hell they were going to surround, let
alone penetrate, Trinity’s stronghold without massive casualties. And at the
first hint of gunfire, Damien would be offloaded to whatever high speed
watercraft they had, and the first tier of insurgents would be in the wind,
leaving their less competent gang members to deal with the assault team.

While there was no doubt in her mind that Samuels was the real
target, with Damien as the lure and Gabriel serving merely to get their
attention, the fact remained that her Sire made for a very satisfactory
consolation prize, one they could parlay into future concessions, trading on
his unique bloodlines, independent of whoever was in power on the Council.

There was no way in hell a scenario with Samuels alive and happily
granting concessions to a splinter group flaunting every rule of vamp law, as
well as the near religious belief in the sanctity of anonymity for survival of
their species, was going to happen, ever. Samuels dead was another matter. Cut
off the head of the hydra and another might regenerate, maybe even two. But
there was no guarantee that new leadership would hold to the same level of
commitment to vampire political and philosophical beliefs as the current
Council head had managed for more than two hundred and fifty some odd years.

Magda peered at Rinj out of the corner of her eye, a thought
forming about the makeup of the Council board. And the real reason behind why
Samuels had conscripted Damien to join him at the center of Gotham power. Her
Sire was very, very good at satisfying human and supernatural proclivities for
the mystique of the Goth and BDSM lifestyles, pushing boundaries and acquiring
obscene amounts of cash in the process. However, cash cows did not necessarily
make for good leaders. Damien was still brash, egotistical and
self-indulgent—hardly the type of temperament suited to the high stakes game of
politics Samuels engaged in for sport.