The second dark ages box.., p.55
The Second Dark Ages Boxed Set, page 55
part #1 of The Second Dark Ages Series
The lady’s head disappeared in gore when Sabine’s bullet hit her.
That was when all hell broke loose. Sabine’s eyes were large as she dropped behind her furniture protection when the BRRRAAAAAPPP of an automatic started showering her area with bullets.
Pumped up on adrenalin, Sabine believed she could count the bullets as they slammed into her fort. Twice she twisted as bullets found their way through the furniture, whizzing by her head and slamming into the wall behind her.
For the first time since her run from the werewolves, she was starting to feel fear.
Aim and shoot, Akio’s voice told her. Trust.
Sabine allowed the calm to combat the fear and twisted her hand toward the door. She neither considered nor cared that there was furniture between her and her adversary.
She merely pulled the trigger.
Once, twice, three times she pulled the trigger.
Moments later, the only noise she heard was the clatter of a gun on the stone outside.
Then Michael’s voice cut through the loud beating of her heart. “Well done, warrior. Well done indeed.”
“I’m telling you,” Stephen hissed as he pulled his weight up the fire escape one building over from their target, “I’m going whoring with the first part of the money, then I’m going to invest the rest.”
Gerry shook his head, stepping over the rusted rung. “Careful,” he hissed back.
“Got ya,” was the reply.
“The only thing you invest your pay in,” Gerry stopped talking and peeked over the top of the ledge to check out the roof before turning back to finish his comment, “is a higher class of whore!”
Stephen shrugged. “They have mouths to feed too. It’s not like they aren’t in business. Tell me your wife doesn’t treat you better in bed when you come home with the bacon!”
Stephen made sure he skipped the rung Gerry had warned him about. “That’s right, got nothing to say…” Stephen grabbed the ladder and reached for Gerry, who was falling backward. “The hell?” he yelled in surprise.
That was when he saw that Gerry would not be speaking anymore. Stephen’s hand jerked back as the headless body fell past him. The left boot slammed into his head, but his vampiric strength was enough to hold on as the body flipped past him to careen downward, slamming into the concrete below.
Stephen looked up to see an Asian man staring down at him.
The man’s eyes were glowing red.
Jerry nodded when Frank touched his back. Both men stepped around the trash-strewn area and slid through a break in the fence between the street they had come down and the back alley of the building they were going to enter.
Jerry preferred working with Frank. The man was a professional and damned good. There wasn’t any bluster, he rarely talked, and he didn’t get excited and chatter in the middle of an operation like Stephen and Gerry.
Those two, he figured, were probably talking like two girls who just went clothes shopping.
Or out for makeup. Ever since one of the companies in East London had found a cache of makeup ingredients in a warehouse that had gone unmolested for so damned long it bordered on fantastical, Jerry had been consigned to listening to the women in his circle speaking about Cherry Red or Sublime Rose or goddamned Passion Pink.
It was enough to make a man take jobs killing vampires as a way to create a win-win opportunity. He either bagged the vampire and won or the vampire killed him, and that wasn’t a bad second-place finish if going back to listen to more makeup talk was his third choice.
Jerry felt cold wash through him and stopped in his tracks, looking to the front and his left. Frank had the back and the right. He put up a fist to stop Frank as he glanced around, trying to figure out what had tripped his senses.
He couldn’t see anything.
He turned his head enough so that his mouth was angled a little more toward his back and whispered. “Not sure what tripped me. You see anything?”
The voice that answered chilled Jerry’s blood.
It wasn’t Frank’s.
Michael swept out of the house as Myst and worked his way over to where the two mercenaries were making their way through an opening in the fence to take the house from the back.
All in all, it would have been a rather sound plan if you were going for a typical vampire.
However, he wasn’t typical, and frankly, he could tell what their plans were and that they had the vampire blood running through their veins.
Michael floated down behind the two men and swept the one in the back into the Myst, his body disappearing.
Michael sped to a building behind the Duke’s house and dropped the mercenary from the Myst. The man hadn’t made any effort to speak when Michael slapped his rifle out of his hands, but as the gun clattered toward the street, the mercenary reached for a pistol.
“I think not,” Michael told him and palmed his own pistol. Michael was almost immediately back into Myst form, speeding down from the top of the three-story building as the dead mercenary’s body collapsed on the rooftop.
Michael solidified behind the first mercenary, who was holding up a hand to tell his now non-existent partner to stop.
Michael smiled.
He was waiting for the man to do something when the first merc turned his head slightly and hissed, “Not sure what tripped me. You see anything?”
Michael answered, “I saw your partner a moment ago when a round from my pistol exploded his head like an overripe melon.”
Michael swept his hand out; an incredibly small line of Etheric was riding on the edge, providing him with a marvelously sharp cutting edge. The scream of pain from when Michael’s hand took off Jerry’s arm at the wrist was cut short when Michael palmed his left pistol and shot him between the eyes.
Michael heard gunfire erupt from the house and his body disappeared as he headed toward the building.
Michael solidified just as Sabine’s shots slammed into the last attacker, grabbing what information he could before his mind was in too much pain for Michael to be able to read anything else.
He noticed that Sabine had felt where her adversary was and shot through the furniture, and he checked out the placement of the holes in the body. All of them were close together. He turned to where Sabine was still hiding. “Well done, warrior. Well done indeed,” he told her. His footsteps crunched on some broken glass spread around the floor.
“You can come out now. We have places to go.”
There was a scream and a thud as a body hit the ground somewhere near the back. Moments later, Akio came in through the back door and stepped up beside Michael, who was scratching his bald head.
“Next?” Akio asked.
Michael started walking toward the front door, the crunching continuing when a shot-up bookshelf finally crashed. “First,” he said, “I need a hat.”
“Then?” Sabine asked as Akio helped her get out of her little furniture fort.
“We go into the sewers,” Michael answered from outside.
“Sewers?” Sabine replied, disgust coloring her voice. “Couldn’t we just, I don’t know, go anywhere else?”
Akio had followed her as she headed for the door but stopped when he noticed an old military weapon on the bandolier of the man Sabine had shot in the chest. He reached down, turned it sideways to read it. Sabine turned to watch him take a round tab and yank it. He chunked it into the furniture fort.
“What was that?” she asked as Akio grabbed her and moved quickly out of the house.
“We have to go,” Akio told her as the two turned left and walked up the street following Michael. “That was an incendiary grenade.”
“Ohhhh,” Sabine responded, looking over her shoulder. “Which means?”
“It’s going up in flames,” Akio replied.
Sabine turned back and worked to keep up with the quickly walking men. “What is it with you boys and fire?”
Chapter Fourteen
Tokyo, Japan, Chinese Embassy
Using Eve’s intel, Yuko and Eve navigated purposefully through the embassy corridors toward the emperor’s office.
When they arrived, Yuko stopped suddenly. Eve looked at her.
Yuko mouthed, “There are three people in there.”
She touched her chest to indicate she was listening for heartbeats.
Eve nodded her understanding. Having controlled all the other security checks and personnel either by sending them messages to take them elsewhere or home for the day, it seemed that there had indeed been unforeseen events that kept Qin Shi from being alone.
Yuko took a breath. Her sword was stowed respectfully but was reachable on her back. She pushed the office’s double doors and they swung open against her weight.
There had been low voices talking, but on hearing the door open, the voices subsided. Yuko stepped into the large, ornately furnished office, followed closely by Eve.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” She addressed the three men sitting on sofas in the lounge area of the office.
All three turned in their seats to look at her. One stood up. “Good evening, young lady. I see my assistant wasn’t at her station to invite you to wait.” He looked from her to Eve and back again.
His face had changed from friendly to “not amused” in the fraction of a second it had taken for Yuko to disturb them.
“We have an appointment,” she told him. “Forgive me, but the matter is urgent.” She bowed to the three of them, lowering her eyes to allow their egos the opportunity to do the right thing.
The two men with the emperor looked to him for his lead on the situation. It seemed like one of the men was ready to rise and excuse himself. Yuko held the emperor’s gaze.
A moment passed before Emperor Qin Shi made his decision. “I’m busy. It will have to wait.”
Yuko bowed again. “I’m afraid it can’t. The reason your assistant wasn’t at her post to ask us to wait is that we’ve taken the precaution of removing all personnel from the building. The matter we have to discuss with you is of utmost importance, and your cooperation would be very much appreciated.”
The emperor looked confused, and then his expression turned to anger. “How dare you! I will be speaking with the Japanese Prime Minister about this. Who are you? I shall have your career!”
Yuko smiled slightly. “Emperor Qin Shi, I answer to an authority much greater than any you might have access to.”
She paused and glanced at the other two officials, who were now on their feet. “May I suggest,” she continued, “that we get to the reason for our appointment?”
One of the overweight men stepped forward. “I think the emperor has made it clear that he doesn’t want—”
Yuko sighed and glanced at Eve, who nodded. Yuko drew her sword, the motion eliciting gasps from the three men.
The two men moved to protect the emperor. “State your business,” the other official pressed, his tone less commanding and more focused on getting to the business at hand so the intruders might take what they wanted and leave.
Yuko lowered her sword. “We’re here for information. Information about the remaining boxes of the Sacred Clan ship.”
The two men in front of the emperor looked at each other, confused.
Their expressions immediately made them unimportant to her mission. “Sit down,” Yuko told them, waving her sword in their direction, “or lose your limbs.”
Eve glanced at her. “Whatever happened to asking them nicely first?”
Yuko shrugged. “I already did the diplomacy thing,” she explained, turning her head in Eve’s direction. “I guess Michael must have rubbed off on me,” she muttered under her breath, turning her attention to the emperor as the other two sat back down on their sofas. “I assume you’re Qin Shi?”
The man looked less arrogant as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. “I am, but I haven’t got the knowledge you’re looking for!”
Yuko narrowed her eyes. “And why would I believe you?” she asked unemotionally.
The emperor put his hands up, now shaking in fear. This may have been a powerful and greedy man who was formidable politically thanks to the money he wielded from his country, but, faced with a weapon in the absence of his security detail, he was nothing but a weed.
“I swear to you that I don’t know the details,” he protested. Yuko stepped closer.
“You need Chang Feng, my technology officer. He knows about that project. It was deemed too important for me to know about it.”
Yuko regarded him carefully, making up her mind.
Just then Eve lunged forward, having spotted the man on the right slipping his fingers underneath the ornate coffee table in front of him.
“Shit. He’s just tripped the silent alarm,” she called to Yuko.
Yuko’s eyes glared red. She was about to swing her sword at the pompous official when she saw that Eve was already on it, having launched herself at him over the sofa and tackled him to the ground. She punched him in the head, knocking him out cold.
The doors they had just burst through were opened again, this time by a tide of armed guards flooding into the stately office.
Within seconds guards lined the office’s walls, surrounding Yuko, Eve, and their captives.
Yuko growled in frustration. “I wanted to do this diplomatically, but evidently that isn’t an option here. Eve, send the signal, please.”
Eve blasted her weapon in the direction of a second influx of armed guards gathering around the other door, taking out half a dozen of them.
Meanwhile, Yuko swiped up and around with her sword, taking out two approaching her from behind.
The guards on the side of the room farthest from the first door started firing, only to be jumped by two black figures that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The firing guards disappeared onto the floor behind the desk on the far side of the room, just before their shots could be maneuvered onto Yuko’s position.
A second later Jacqueline and Mark appeared, taking out five armed guards from behind. They had entered from the next office.
Other black figures slipped like shadows around the room, dropping the paramilitary security guards, breaking necks and trigger fingers without mercy.
Within moments there was no more gunfire; everything was once again still and peaceful.
Yuko stood, blood dripping from her sword, as the three men trembled in terror.
“So tell me, where might I find this Chang Feng?” she inquired politely, her diplomatic air returning to her.
Frankfurt, Germany - small shop
The ring-a-ling of a small bell notified Jan Zwerven he had customers. The older man put down his leather mallet and lifted his too tired body off of his chair. He smiled at the piece of leather he had been working on.
Jan leaned down and studied the last few imprints from his tool. He was creating a flower and the leaf tool embedded the impression as he turned the leather.
Turn, strike the tool with his mallet. Turn, strike the tool with his mallet.
From time to time, he would grab the old sponge and squeeze the water from it. Then, he would rub the remaining moisture on the leather and allow it to soak up the water. The leather would bloom, the outside becomes soft as the moisture was wicked into the tough skin.
His was a happy life. The smell of leather was something his late wife had never understood. He even enjoyed the effort of tanning hide, something even he recognized as weird. However, her not liking the smell of leather was something he never understood.
He made his way out of his back workshop and pushed aside the leather strips that provided some privacy from the front of his store, to his workshop and living quarters above.
Inside were three people, and Jan stopped. All of them wore weapons. Even the pretty woman acted as if they were part of who she was, not something she just belted on each morning.
His voice was confident if a bit diffident, “May I help you?” The shorter man, perhaps Japanese if he guessed correctly, turned and bowed his head just a fraction in his direction.
The woman had turned and graced him with a beautiful smile. One that he would wager would cause a thousand ships to sail. If perhaps, he was the one commanding them.
Then again, his wife had always said he was a sucker for a pretty woman who smiled at him. It was why she would take over the task of negotiating for his services when he had a pretty woman for a customer.
Or hell, any woman that would smile at him.
The taller man was wearing a long coat, from a material he didn’t recognize. He had no hair and was looking at different hats that Jan had done in the past. Some he did as potential sales and others for customers who never came back.
The man turned around. His eyes were sharp, his smile was genuine as he lifted a hat. “This style?”
“That is an old American style,” Jan told him reaching out for the hat the man was holding. He handed it over. “I’ve copied a style made famous by a man called John Batterson Stetson.” He turned the hat over, “Inside here,” Jan pointed inside, “Is the bow that I make to look like the original skull and crossbones.”
Sabine moved closer and looked inside, “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“It’s a nod of respect from us in these times, to those who started our profession so many centuries before. Way before the end of our civilization that we had to crawl out of.” Jan told her. “The old professionals would use mercury to make their felt hats.” He held the hat in his right hand and used his left to point to his head. “The mercury would poison them, give them brain damage.” He pulled his hand down, and moved it like it was spasming. “They would get violent and uncontrollable muscle twitching.”
“That’s…” Sabine paused a moment, “That’s horrible!”
“That is life,” Michael told her. “It is the reason we got the phrase mad-as-a-hatter.”
Jan looked up at the man, “No one I’ve ever talked to knew that, mister.”
Michael held out his hand to shake. “Michael,” he told him. “This young lady is Sabine, and my other friend here is Akio.”
