The second dark ages box.., p.46
The Second Dark Ages Boxed Set, page 46
part #1 of The Second Dark Ages Series
“I said…”
PUNCH
“Shut.”
PUNCH
“The.”
PUNCH
“Hell—”
Michael stopped punching when he realized he was sitting on top of a barely conscious male whose clothes had been destroyed during his change.
Akio came over and watched as the man’s head started healing. He looked at Michael, who had grabbed a towel and was cleaning the blood off his hand. “See?” Michael pointed to the man on the floor. “I’m being civil.”
The two men stood there for a couple of moments before Michael started for the door. Akio followed, but his eyes narrowed. “We aren’t going to question him?”
Michael turned around and winked, then touched his forehead. “I already got what we need.”
Akio shook his head and stepped over one of the first guys he had knocked out. “And when did you get this information?”
Michael stopped walking to speak to a short haired waitress who was standing by the door. “Do you want to go tell your friends we are coming out and to get out of our way, or shall I just shoot them now?”
Her eyes flitted toward the door and back to Michael, who nodded. She stepped over to it and knocked. “Tim? Henry?” she called. “I’d make sure you don’t piss off anyone coming out. I don’t think these two vampires would appreciate it.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” Michael agreed and spoke over his shoulder. “See? Civil.”
A moment later the two men left the club and nodded to Tim and Henry. Halfway down the block, Michael finally answered Akio’s question.
“It was when we were negotiating how many sentences we would need to start the fight.”
Akio shook his head. “What did we learn?”
“We learned that William hasn’t been in for two weeks, but he called two nights ago. Said he was going to be away for business reasons, and our friend back there was to kill anyone who came looking for him if they didn’t know the password.”
“What was the password?”
“’The Duke expects,’” Michael replied.
“And why,” Akio asked as the two men turned left into an alley, “did we not just use the password?”
“Because the rest of the password was ‘our loyalty and our respect.’”
There was a bit of silence as Akio thought about it. “You couldn’t…”
“No fucking way,” Michael answered. “Not in this or any other lifetime.”
Chapter Four
Undisclosed location, Tokyo, Japan
The sun streamed over the dusty floorboards in an abandoned building Kuro had bought eighteen months ago for the sole purpose of remaining off the radar.
He stood in a dignified stance with his hands behind his back, watching the passersby on the street below.
Orochi, his most recent business associate and ally, sat leafing through reports on the sofa he’d brought to the apartment to make their visits a little more civilized. After all, it wasn’t as if they could be seen meeting in public or at any of their offices.
The third member of their alliance, Raiden, sat at an old desktop computer, still frustrated with trying to recreate the hardware they very much needed for the next part of their plan.
“It’s no use. These chips are still working too fast for them to sync with the old processors,” he declared finally, sitting back in his chair in frustration. He dropped the two electrical pins he’d been trying to connect into the open hard drive onto the desktop.
Kuro turned from his position at the window. “Well, then we will try something else. What other options do we have?” he asked, unemotionally switching into problem-solving mode. He hadn’t amassed his wealth by giving up at the first, the second, or even the third hurdle.
The tech genius stood up from the computer and pulled his hair as he started pacing.
Thinking.
Orochi casually looked up from his papers as he sat on the sofa. “We may not have to figure this piece out.”
Kuro glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
Orochi normally had a slightly arrogant manner, but Kuro suspected there was a good reason for it on this occasion. His eyes narrowed. “What do you know that you’re not telling us?”
Orochi shuffled his papers together and closed the folder on his lap. “I’ve heard rumors that they are looking again.”
Raiden frowned, catching up to the conversation. “They? You mean the Diplomat is back in town?”
Orochi nodded. “It seems that way.”
Kuro remained skeptical. “Have we had any confirmation, though?”
Orochi shifted his crossed legs and picked at imaginary lint on his pant leg. “Not yet,” he replied, “but my people are working on it. It’s very difficult to get confirmation on them. They have earned much loyalty among people here, and much fear around their names abroad. But I have put something in place, just to make sure it’s her.”
Kuro looked concerned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve found someone dumb enough to try and take her out.”
Orochi waved his hand. “Don’t worry. If it really is her, they won’t have a hope.”
Kuro pursed his lips disapprovingly. “You plan to send someone to their death?”
Orochi shrugged. “It’s the only way we’ll know for sure. Remember, we don’t have any photographic reference or DNA. All we know about her is that she is female, goes by the name of ‘the Diplomat,’ and is lethal when she needs to be. Other than that, she’s a ghost.”
Raiden had turned around, his hands now resting on the back of his head, fingers interlocked. “So this means…”
Kuro translated. “If it is her, it means the rumors of the ArchAngel are correct. And that means they’re going to start assembling the ship. Which,” he said, his smugness elevating by the second, “also means we don’t necessarily have to solve these problems ourselves. We can simply wait until they solve the puzzles with their advanced resources and then let them lead us straight to the pieces.”
“Finally!” Raiden exclaimed in relief, dropping his hands from his head and sitting back down again.
Kuro turned back to look out of the window again, contemplating their next move. “Well, if this is true, it’s only a matter of time before she returns to Kashikoi’s little faction. In which case—”
“In which case we’re perfectly ready,” Orochi agreed, a knowing smile spreading over his lips.
Kuro faced the room. “And this time we just need to hope that she doesn’t catch on to what we’re planning. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”
Orochi bowed his head. “At least we managed to avoid them thinking there was anything untoward going on.”
Kuro frowned in annoyance and turned his body slightly, keeping his face hidden from Orochi. “Yes, but we missed our opportunity,” he reminded him. “We don’t know how many opportunities we have left in this lifetime.”
Orochi still sounded overly confident for Kuro’s liking. “But with our forces now combined, we will defeat her,” Orochi insisted. “And her little friend.”
Kuro sighed, trying not to get too annoyed by Orochi’s attitude. “I agree,” he conceded. “Plus, she doesn’t have the temperament for winning,” he mused out loud.
Raiden injected himself into the conversation from across the room. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he called from his computer terminal. “I heard rumors on the message boards that she’s been quite different since the ArchAngel is back in play.”
Kuro turned to face him. “I thought that was just a sensationalized rumor to shake things up a bit.” He frowned quizzically. “Could he really be back from the dead?”
Raiden shrugged. “My contacts in America seem to think so. One reported getting up close and personal, and living to tell the tale.”
Kuro’s frown deepened. “Where is he, then?”
Raiden checked his handheld. “Last reported sighting was in London, I understand,” he reported, shrugging. “That’s all I have.”
Orochi uncrossed his legs and sat forward, his papers forgotten on the sofa next to him. “He’s in London, and his Diplomat is out here? Makes you wonder what is important enough to pull him away from finding the ship.”
“Yes,” Kuro mused, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “It appears there may be something we’re missing.”
He paused thoughtfully, his eyes glazing over for a moment. “But no matter,” he said, his chirpy confidence returning. “As long as he is out of the way, we have an increased chance of tackling this one.” He turned to Orochi. “Even so,” Kuro added instructionally, “best not to underestimate her. Or her little friend.”
Frankfurt, Germany
“That,” Michael said as he pointed to a building with three gabled roofs, “is the Römer. I helped lay a few of the bricks when I was passing through after it was sold to the city. Just some minor work, when it became the city hall.”
Akio nodded. The two of them were walking through a spacious open square with a large statue in the middle. “Over there was the old Saint Nicholas Church.” He looked closer. “Not sure what they have done with it now.”
The two men continued through the square, heading toward another unique place. This time it was supposed to be a nice bar and restaurant. Overhead, the antigrav cars slid through the night. Their engines produced an annoying whine that Akio wasn’t terribly pleased with.
Three blocks later they found the sign, which had a small moon in the lower left-hand corner. Michael grimaced. “Not terribly subtle, are they?” he asked as he pulled open the door and waved Akio through. “You get the first shot, remember?”
“Hai.” Akio nodded and entered, his hesitancy at showing Michael too little honor becoming less of a problem.
The number of people in the restaurant was surprising. At least fifteen tables occupied the middle of the large open floor, and twenty secluded booths ran along the side and back walls. On the right was a long bar with another five patrons chatting about half-way down.
Maybe two tables were empty.
“Can I help you gentleman?” the hostess, a blond woman, asked. Her hair was pulled into a bun on the back of her head.
“Please,” Michael answered. “We would like to speak with Fraulein Hilga Overstead if we could?”
The hostess pursed her lips. “If you will take a seat and order, I will have someone inform the fraulein you are requesting an audience.”
“Certainly,” Michael waved his hand toward the tables. “If you would seat us?”
The two men followed the woman to a booth and slid in. She placed a menu in front of each of them. “What would you like to drink?”
Akio turned to her. “Do you serve blood?”
The lady smiled at the joke, but then lost her calm when she saw Akio’s two fangs slide a little way out of his mouth.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Pity,” he answered.
“I’ll have a steak.” Michael handed the menu back. “Rare, of course.”
“I’ll have the same.” Akio passed his menu to the hostess. “Don’t bother cooking it.”
When the lady had disappeared into the back, Michael raised an eyebrow. “’Don’t bother cooking it?’”
Akio leaned forward. “Are we expecting to eat here, then?”
Michael looked around, trying to scan through the minds and see if he could locate the lady they were looking for, but then grimaced. “I suppose not.”
Akio leaned back. “I was trying to be more theatrical.” He tried his smile again.
“Keep working on that,” Michael told him. “I think the muscles in your face are having to regenerate after all these centuries.”
“Hai,” Akio agreed, then his eyes flitted toward the front of the restaurant behind Michael.
“Trouble?” Michael asked.
“Only if a red-haired lady in a drop-dead-sexy black velvet dress is a problem.” Akio paused. “Accompanied by two guys holding semi-automatic weapons trained on us.”
“I guess your version of intimidation went a bit far?”
Akio shrugged. “They didn’t shoot us out of hand.”
“That,” the redhead interjected, her tone severe, “is still open for negotiation. If either of you so much as flinch, either Edgar or Chris will fill you full of holes as quickly as the guns can shoot. Since they fire at eleven hundred rounds a minute, that is a lot.”
“We came here to speak with you, not to kill you,” Michael replied, as he noticed Akio wincing.
“We would like some answers related to—” Akio was shut down by the lady.
“I do not care what your questions are,” she turned to Michael, “and I don’t kill easily.”
Akio wanted to roll his eyes. This lady was going to make the project difficult. Michael had probably already pulled the information he wanted from her brain.
“Well,” Michael temporized, moving his hands together on top of the table and clasping them, “I can tell you that you do it poorly.” Both men pointed their weapons at him.
The lady’s eyes flashed yellow a moment before she calmed down. “Do what poorly, exactly?”
“Not get killed easily, of course,” Michael explained. “If I had wanted you dead, I would have just killed you earlier.”
The man on her right, the one next to Akio, spoke up. “If it wasn’t going to hurt business, I’d just end you now.”
Michael turned to him and smiled. “Try.”
“Kichigai.” Akio sighed when Michael disappeared, the bullets from the two submachine guns tore up the booth where he had been sitting.
Michael appeared behind the men and lashed out, punching them both in the back of their skulls.
They dropped like rocks. “I don’t think they were Weres, Michael,” Akio commented as the Archangel grabbed the lady by the neck. His nails grew, stabbing her skin and puncturing it. “If you change, I will kill you,” he whispered.
Akio had his pistol out and pointed at someone behind Michael. “You will pull your hand out…” The silent rounds from his Jean Dukes pistol caused massive carnage behind Michael, which he couldn’t see. The man started screaming in pain, and Akio finished his instructions. “The idea was to pull your hand back out without a pistol. Now you get to heal your shoulders, and for good measure, your kneecap. Pray that I don’t hear about any plans to shoot us another time.”
Michael pushed the woman forward. She used her Were reflexes to twist into the seat, turning to stare at Michael as her neck healed. “If you say another word I find distasteful,” Michael told her calmly, “or use a tone I don’t like, I will cause more pain. Eventually, I will just kill you.”
“Who are you? Are you from the Duke?” she hissed.
“God, no.” Michael motioned to her and she moved back, allowing him to slide in.
She glanced at Akio, who still had the pistol out and pointing at the others in the room, then back at Michael. “May I issue orders?”
He nodded. “Be my guest.” He waited patiently for her to calmly command the others to get someone to help everyone that was hurt and clean up the carnage.
She turned back to Michael. “The Duke is going to come back to Frankfurt, and he is not going to be happy with anyone horning in on his territory.”
“Color me unconcerned,” Michael answered. When he noticed she looked puzzled, he tried again. “I do not care.”
At that moment Michael saw the door to the kitchen open. Two waiters came out and headed in their direction. He withheld a smirk as they approached. Akio glanced at the men as they came into his view.
They set Michael’s rare steak in front of him, then a completely raw steak on the table for Akio, who made a face.
“What?” Michael asked, amused. “Too rare?”
“I had expected,” Akio answered, staying aware of those around them, “that we would have already killed everyone and the steak would be superfluous. Now, I have meat and no desire to…”
Michael pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, then reached across the table and placed his hand above the steak. Soon Akio could feel heat coming at him in waves, and his steak started to brown. “You might want to turn that over,” Michael told him.
Michael pulled his hand back, and Akio reached over to turn his steak. Then Michael returned his hand to over the plate and finished browning the top. “All better?” He smirked.
Akio grabbed his jacket and slid his pistol back into its holster. “I think it might be fine, Dark Messiah.”
The woman in the booth gasped.
Michael turned back to her and smiled maliciously, his eyes glowing red as her head slowly turned back and forth. Her mouth was silently saying, “No no no no” over and over again.
“Did you see a ghost?” Michael asked her.
Chapter Five
The two men left the restaurant and turned right, and the building itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. They headed down a dark alley.
Both stayed quiet, their mouths set. The last few days had been a bit of an enjoyable time as they had worked to find one asshole, but now both were blaming themselves for something they hadn’t known.
Seconds later they had both disappeared into the Myst, streaking across town to a hotel whose name and location the woman had shared with the two of them.
Quite willingly, once she understood who he was.
Even Michael had been surprised to find out that rumors of him had crossed the Pond and made it here to Frankfurt. He assumed they were from the ship’s captain, but he wasn’t sure just yet.
Either way, while they had been puttering around looking for the Duke, there had been someone who needed them.
The woman kept pulling the little boy, who had almost given up as she dragged him along.
“You aren’t my momma!” Little Michael tried once again to yank his arm back from the lady, but she was stronger than his own mom was, or at least had been.
She stopped and bent down, flashing her eyes at the little kid. “Listen, you little brat. I may not be your momma, but I’m the only one you need to worry about. Those people in the hotel were going to throw you out with all your stuff since your Mom never showed up. You have nothing.”
