Demon Driven (17 page)

“So Chris…word is, you’ve been suspended and
your group was shut down?” Sharra asked as I got settled at the
table. The waitress was on me before I could answer, asking for my
drink order. I went with chocolate milk, which had the girls
exchanging a glance and smirk. They seemed to think it was cute,
but I just wanted whatever had the most calories. Wait till they
got a load of my lunch order.

“Yeah, that’s all true. Broke up a domestic
squabble and got a complaint, got attacked by some Dominican gang
members and had a charge of assault,” I explained as nonchalantly
as I could.

“Word around the Plaza is that IA was gunning
for you and the Commish was looking for excuses,” Tara said,
excitedly. When I looked her in the eye, she got shy and looked
down, quickly.

Damned violet eyes!

“Well, that’s most likely all true,” I
agreed.

“But with your squad gone and you out, who’s
gonna take care of the … ah … cases that you guys worked on?”
Sharra said, her eyes big.

“Does it matter?” I said, wondering just what
she knew or thought she knew about the squad.

She nodded, the other two nodding along with
her.

“Of course it matters! Who else can handle
the mon…..the cases that you guys handle?” she answered.

I was certain she had stopped herself from
saying the word ‘monsters’.

“And just what kind of cases do we … er … did
we handle?” I asked.

She paused and glanced at the others,
suddenly a little uncertain.

“They call you guys the Monster Squad,” Leia
said suddenly.

“Who? Who calls us that?”

“Pretty much everyone. We all know that you
guys handle the occult stuff, the vampire wannabes, the freaks that
think they’re something else. And some cops say that you handle
things that are real, things that regular cops can’t!” she
finished, her voice more confident, her glance daring me to
disagree.

“Really? I had no idea people talked about
us,” I said, which was true.

“Is he for real?” Tara asked Sharra.

“Yes, Olivia says he’s a little clueless,”
Sharra replied to her, then turned to me. “They talk about you the
most, Chris,” she said. “They say you can do things, that you have
connections. The guys outta Brooklyn say you saved a whole bunch of
men from…something….something really, really nasty last year!”

The waitress was back with my milk, saving me
from answering, and was ready to take our orders. She was going to
start with me, but it’s always ladies first, so I pointed to Sharra
to lead off. She ordered a salad, Leia ordered soup and half a
sandwich, and Tara ordered a salad as well. Then it was my
turn.

I ordered a bratwurst on a roll with
sauerkraut, a Black Forest ham and swiss on pumpernickel and a bowl
of potato soup. Both sandwiches came with chips so that would help.
And I asked for a refill on my chocolate milk, which was gone.

The three at the table looked at me with huge
eyes and the waitress just shook her head and grinned.

“What? I’m hungry!”

“It’s not fair that some people can eat like
that and not gain a pound!” Sharra said.

I didn’t tell her that I was planning on a
big slice of German chocolate cake for dessert.

“So, Shar…were you able to get what I asked
for?”

She nodded while sipping her Diet Coke and
handed me a piece of folded paper.

“Leia and Tara helped with hiding my inquiry.
Files like this one are flagged. Looking them up can get you
fired,” Sharra said, with a shrug.

“Oh, I didn’t know that! Listen, Sharra, I
didn’t want you to do anything that would get you in trouble!” I
said.

“Relax! With my girls here covering my
tracks, no one is gonna know. Why do you want
her
info
anyway?” she asked, her eyes slightly narrowed. “You’re not going
to ask her out are you?”

I choked on my milk, almost spraying it
across the table.

“Briana Duclair? Me? Out? Are you crazy?” I
sputtered.

She smirked and the other two giggled.

“Actually, the word is that she has been very
interested in you,” she said.

“Yeah, well the police grapevine is nothing
if not efficient,” I replied.

“So that’s all true?” Leia asked. “She’s
interested in you?”

“Well, if you mean interested as in
‘dissected and under a microscope’, then yeah!” I said, but almost
instantly regretted my choice of words, especially as all three
leaned back, eyes wide.

“Er…maybe not dissected,” I tried a
retraction.

But all three were exchanging glances and
then leaning forward again. Sharra arched one eyebrow at me.

“No, I think you meant dissected in every
sense of the word. And just ‘cause your suspended on some bullshit
charges doesn’t mean you’re not still a member of New York’s
finest,” she said with a fierce glare.

It took me a second to realize that her anger
wasn’t directed at me. The other two smelled angry as well.

“No federal bitch is gonna mess with ours!”
Tara said. “She’s gonna regret this!”

“Ah ladies what are you going to do, ‘cause I
don’t want any of you getting in trouble for me,” I said, then
backpedaled as I read their expressions. “I mean, I’m already in
trouble, don’t you go getting fired or anything.”

“Sugar, no one’s gonna know nothing! But
dragon lady gonna have a hell of a time!”

“Chris, the feds are always yanking our
chains, especially after nine-eleven,” Sharra said, “But this bitch
Duclair just got an entire squad eliminated! I’m getting a psychic
vision…of huge fines, unpaid taxes, traffic violations!” She held
her hands up dramatically, like a gypsy palm reader at county
fair.

The waitress brought our food, which stopped
me from getting any details, and by the time she was done
dispersing it, the ladies had all changed topics, as if by common
agreement. I dug in, but after a few bites a thought occurred to
me.

‘Hey, do any of you guys know where Oliva
from my squad ended up?” I asked around a bit of bratwurst.

“Yup, she’s in IT, we see her all the time,”
Sharra said.

That explained a lot of their
information.

“Well, say hi to her for me will you?” I
asked.

“Sure thing, Chris!” Sharra answered. Then,
looking casually at her salad, she threw out a question.

“So..you still with that Russian girl?”

I frowned. They knew I was seeing Tanya?

“Er…yeah.”

She looked up quickly. “You don’t sound too
certain?”

“Well we had a little issue, a
miscommunication,” I said, “Turns out I’m an idiot! Who knew? But
we’re getting past that.”

It sounded lame to me and I was the one
spinning it. They had the courtesy to drop that line of
questioning, although I could read the disbelief and worse, hope,
in their eyes. The topic changed to the Yankees prospects for the
upcoming season and we continued our lunch without referring to my
suspension or my romantic situation. I paid for the bill, added a
good tip for the waitress and said goodbye to the ladies.

Before heading back to the subway, I stopped
at a branch of my bank and withdrew $8,000 in cash from my savings
account, then hit the ATM just outside for a $1250 withdrawal (the
max the bank allowed) from my checking. Realizing what the Sharra
and her girls could do to make Briana’s life miserable had reminded
me of what she could do to me. Going to cash might not be
necessary, but Gramps always said having it and not needing it was
better than needing it and not having it, which applied to many
things in life.

The slip of paper Sharra had given me listed
three important pieces of information: Duclair’s address, her phone
numbers (home and cell) and last, the description and license
number of her car. I needed all that to put my plan together. She
wanted a lab rat, a lab rat she would get.

Agent Duclair lived in a twelve story
apartment building on West 30
^th
street in Manhattan. A
nice, upscale building and based on her apartment number, 10G, she
was near the top floor.

I found her address and walked around it,
snapping a few pictures with my cell phone. It was surrounded on
two sides by taller buildings, situated near Chelsea Park. Very
nice locale, with an underground parking garage and a lobby
security guard. The building was architecturally interesting with
an asymmetrical roofline. In fact, the building only had nine full
floors, the top three being broken up by design into fewer, but
larger apartments, culminating in two large penthouses.

I had spotted a Dunkin Donuts two blocks
back. I walked back, got a large black coffee and a half-dozen
donuts. I wasn’t hungry, but any surplus of calories I could build
is important.

* * *

On a sidebar, my doctor, Dr. Singh (he’s a
vampire), has a theory that I wouldn’t have been a viable offshoot
of the V-squared virus a hundred years ago. Maybe not even fifty.
Not enough food to support me. The very over-abundance of cheap,
frivolous calories that makes our nation obese, allows me to
survive. Vampires use human blood to fuel their use of whatever
energy they use. Blood is concentrated and actually, more efficient
than regular food for this purpose. But I don’t drink blood, which
he theorizes, keeps me from preying on the population I was
designed to protect.

So instead of blood, I use regular food, but
a lot of it. Dr. Singh had done a number of tests on my metabolism,
and found my body was much more efficient at using food, burning it
more completely then it used to, like a woodstove versus a regular
fireplace. My stomach acid is about four times more corrosive than
it used to be (which makes me hope I don’t get acid reflux). My
enzymes, are all more brutal, able to break down even cellulose if
I have to. So far I seem to have an iron stomach. Good thing ‘cause
somehow I don’t think Pepto-Bismol’s gonna cut it.

* * *

The girl behind the counter got flustered as
I paid for my order, dropping my change all over the counter. That
seems to happen a lot nowadays. I smiled to reassure her, but that
just caused her to get beet red and slightly breathless. Her
heartbeat was going a mile a minute. Could I be any more of a
freak? My hand absently checked to make sure my sunglasses were in
place, which they were.

Finding an empty table by the back wall, I
settled in with my back to the door. Not tactically sound, but I
just couldn’t take anymore staring. The caged thing inside me
perked up, automatically providing one part of my brain with a
sound and smell coordinated schematic of the restaurant and its
inhabitants. That was new. I let it assume watchdog status over my
senses, while I reviewed the pictures of the building.

It would be a ridiculously easy climb, the
outside walls rife with handholds. Briana’s apartment was on the
tenth floor, and once I figured out which side of the building it
occupied, it would be a snap to break in. Now I just needed to get
some supplies. I called Chet Aikens while I scarfed the donuts, and
was rewarded with information on the best sources for my needs. But
before I could hang up, he offered another tidbit.

“Hey Chris. Sommers, DeMarco and Takata and I
are going out for beers and maybe shoot some pool…you in?” he
asked, his voice tentative.

I had never been one to go out much, and over
the last seven months, most of my free time was spent with Tanya.
But I hadn’t seen anyone of them in a couple of days so I agreed.
He gave me the pub address and we hung up.

With the first part of my plan figured out, I
finished my coffee and left, walking as I do now, my head down and
not making eye contact with anyone. Cold weather is better, ‘cause
I can hide in layers of hoodies and jackets. These spring
temperatures were too warm for me to cover up. My body temperature
is higher than a human’s, about 103 degrees Fahrenheit, making
light jacket weather for me about thirty degrees. Warmer than that
and it’s tee shirt time. I’m not sure how I’ll handle the summer
temps.

Chapter 19

I got back to my apartment with a couple of
bags of groceries, checked my mail and did some domestic crap.
About five ‘o’clock I threw a black short sleeve button down over a
fitted grey tee and a pair of decent jeans and headed out. It
wasn’t dark yet, but I sent a text to Tanya anyway. She wasn’t
nearly as affected by sunlight as the others and was often up
early. Sure enough she answered right away.

T: Hi your self. I can feel you again.

C: Heading to a pub in Manhattan to meet the
guys from the squad for some beers. But I’d rather come see
you!

There was a rather long pause before she came
back.

T: Not yet Chris. Soon. Who’s going
tonite?

C: Steve, Chet, Fran and Brian. What are you
going to be doing tonight?

T: I’m doing some research for my
grandmother. She thinks it will help me.

C: What’re ya researching?

T: She’s got me translating some old Russian
and German documents from WW2.

That was interesting. My own family history
was partially tied up in WW2 Germany. My Russian grandfather had
been a prisoner of war.

C: What’s it about?

T: Nope. Not gonna say. My secret!!!!!

C: Awww, come on? Not even a hint?

T: I already gave you too many hints. Maybe
when I’m done, if you’re good, I’ll share it with you.

We continued to banter back and forth, which
was a good sign, but she wouldn’t give me any details. I had to
wonder if it had to do with my grandfather. The vampires, Tanya’s
grandmother especially, were extremely interested in the origins of
my mutated genetics. Somewhere in my mother’s or grandfather’s
past, someone had been exposed to the V-squared virus and it had
left a change in my DNA. When I ingested Tanya’s blood seven months
ago, the powerful dose of virus had ‘changed’ me, making me a
not-vampire, not-werewolf, but something new….a unique freak.