Chapter 11
The NW Quadrant was so rough-and-tumble that the area almost made the Junk Yard look tame. Situated between the upscale North Shore—which was walled off by a gated barricade—and the Tremble, the NW Quarters was a small, rough division. A road leading across the Locks to Briarwood ran alongside the inner gate of North Shore to keep the two districts separated. If anybody living in the NW Quarters wanted to get out for the day, they had to first travel along the narrow strip of land bordering Edlewood Inlet into Uptown and Portside. Or they had to catch one of the express Monotrains that bypassed the high-and-mighty North Shore community that catered to the elite among the human community. Namely: those who wanted to live segregated from Otherkin.
The NW Quarters had never recovered from the World Shift. While Darktown had a lot of ruins and rubble, the NW Quarters was a labyrinth of dust and stone ruins. The few buildings remaining were shells, used by the Grungee gangs that ran the district. They were basically fallout shelters from the storms and from each other. But there was always news filtering out of the NW Quarters of buildings that had collapsed, trapping and killing occupants. But nobody in the city went into rescue mode. Seattle grudgingly accepted that it couldn’t clean up the district, so it put it on permanent ignore.
As we scrambled up the embankment and over the bent guardrail, the snow began to fall harder. I shivered, my breath coming in puffs. The road leading toward the northwest boundary line dividing the NW Quarters from the Tremble was on a grade so steep that my legs ached at the very thought of the hike. The asphalt was cracked from years of neglect. The rumble boys liked to tear it up on back roads like this, and their studded tires and spiked slow-down prongs weren’t kind to roadwork. Street races were illegal within the city limits but nobody was about to come up here and challenge the Grungees over a piece of torn-up asphalt.
“We’ve got perhaps a quarter mile before we reach the plateau that turns off to the Tremble,” Elan said, her voice sounding as enthusiastic as I felt.
“In other words, suck it up and get moving.” I sucked in a breath of cold air.
She followed suit. “My thoughts exactly. But have weapons prepared. We’re close enough to the border that we may make it to the Tremble without meeting anybody who lives here, but I’m not going to bet on it.”
I gently slapped my hand against my thigh and my whip took form in my palm. Distancing myself from the others, I gave it a tentative crack. My entire side quivered, a flurry of spasms racing up and down my body, but I managed to keep it together.
“How do you feel?” Jason asked.
“Not great, but it’s doable. But I think if we get into a tussle, I’ll let you guys go first and I’ll take up the rear.”
“Do what you can, but don’t hurt yourself any more than you have to,” Elan said. “We’ll do our best to keep out of any clashes.” She set out, leading the way. I came next, with Jason beside me, and then Hans behind us.
We silently made our way up the steeply graded street, keeping to the far outer edge. The road curved from northwest to north, and to our left, the water below gave way to a deep ravine. The thicket was heavily wooded and I could smell the snow falling on cedar and fir as the wind picked up. The white noise of the snow rustling against the brambles and foliage, the constant swirl of the winds, lulled me into a wary but comfortable silence. The air was chill enough to pierce the lungs and nose, so I wrapped a scarf around my face, noticing the others were doing the same. We moved on, our footsteps muffled by the snow that covered the road.
We were near the top when a sudden roar of a gunning motor roared from the darkness above. Instinctively, we edged to the very side of the ravine as a blur of headlights came raging around the bend that led to the top of the plateau. The rumble car screeched around the bend, flashing out of the snowfall. Beside it, in the opposite lane, was its opponent. Both cars took the bend too wide, and not ten yards beyond us, the car in the wrong lane hit a patch of black ice and skidded to the side, the sound of metal screeching against metal breaking through the night. The vehicles were locked together, the impact sending them into a spin.
Out of control and unable to stop, the cars hit the guard railing about fifty yards down the road from where we had first climbed up the embankment. The rails were old and the rusted metal gave way as both cars careened through the bent metal, locked in battle as they poised for a single second teetering on the edge. Then, with another shriek, they toppled over the side to the rocks and water below.
“The rumble boys should have stayed home tonight,” Elan said quietly.
“Should we try to help?” Even as he asked the question, Jason added, “Never mind. I know the answer already.”
“They won’t survive the icy water. There’s no place on the rocks for their cars to land. Look if you like, but by now they’re on their way to the bottom of the sound. I doubt if they could get out of their vehicles, as tangled up as they were.” Elan turned back to the road. “Let’s get moving in case any other fools decide to play chicken with their lives tonight.”
I glanced over my shoulder one more time, but Elan was right. The rock embankment below wasn’t wide enough to support one car, let alone two. The drivers were dead men the minute they hit that guardrail. We returned to our hike, and within a few minutes, we were standing on the plateau. Ahead, to the left, was a large stone wall, twenty feet high and as long as I could see. Along the face of the wall, a gate allowed entrance and exit, but even from here, I knew that nobody who went in there came out. At least, not without help. There were no guards because none were needed. The Tremble swallowed up people, absorbing them into the landscape. The few who managed to get out again were folk heroes.
To the right, a series of rubble-worn buildings and roads stretched into the fog and snow. Lights shone through the night from the NW Quarters, but they weren’t beckoning and I knew they weren’t there to guide strangers. Lure strangers, maybe, but guide? No.
“Shall we do it? We might as well head for the nearest entrance.” Elan moved toward the nearest gate. Without anything else to add, the rest of us followed.
We were crossing the street when a car screeched around a corner, blocking our path. At first I thought it might be more of the rumble boys, looking for easy marks, but then another car eased in behind it, again appearing out of the fog. As the back doors opened and several burly boys appeared, I caught my breath. Their eyes shone in the darkness, crimson, sparkling in the night. One gave us a slow smile. Beneath the glow of the streetlight, I could see the tips of his fangs.
Oh freaking hell. As we began to back away, one step at a time, they surrounded us.
“Put down your weapons. You know you don’t have the tools to kill us.”
I slowly slapped the whip back on my leg. They were right. Even Elan’s darts would only be able to hit one of them before the others swarmed. As we slowly raised our hands, I realized what a dangerous situation we were in. We were trapped in the NW Quarters without any hope of help, facing a nest of vampires.
Five vampires versus the four of us promised dismal odds. At least for us. For them? Not so bad. Vampires weren’t often found outside of the Junk Yard or the Tremble or other dark shadowy places, and they certainly weren’t welcome in most districts. Originally created by a magician during the skirmishes that became the Weather Wars, they’d been meant to be a super-race of warriors, but the government soon found out that their elite guardians weren’t having much in the authority department and boom, so much for mageogenetics. They were rare, or at least running into one was rare. They had kept to their own until the past hundred years or so, but now they could be found crawling out of the woodwork, no longer skulking in the shadows.
The vamps were dressed in black suits, and even though it was night, two of them were wearing sunglasses. Most likely it was fashion, because light other than sunlight or UV lamps didn’t faze them. I wasn’t sure what a raging fire or a lightning bolt might do, but wi
th the snow falling, I doubted we’d be having any good jolts driving down from the heavens tonight.
“What do you want?” Somebody had to speak first, so it might as well be me.
“You look mighty tasty. Fresh fare,” the vamp on the left said. He looked like a typical Suit, except for the crimson glow of his eyes.
Fuck. We were takeout? I paused, glancing at the others. Elan gave me a cautious shake of the head, as did Jason. Hans just looked pissed.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this. We’re in a hurry. I’m on assignment for Hecate and I’m sure she would appreciate it if my friends and I weren’t detained. Or hurt.”
It wasn’t strictly true, but she wouldn’t berate me for namedropping to get out of serving as a blood bank for a hungry vampire. Besides, vamps tended to like Hecate, given her affinity for the night and the underworld. But I had to choose my wording carefully and hope that I didn’t offend them. I was aching and in a bad mood, but even I knew that diplomacy was a keen necessity. Luckily, vamps weren’t just top-of-the-chain predators. They had brains. They were originally created for intelligence and strength. Even with their ability to destroy, they were cunning enough to know when it was better to reason.
The leader hesitated.
“I’m a Theosian.” This could backfire really easily, but the NW Quarters Grungees didn’t like the vampires any more than they liked my kind, so maybe we’d get an “enemy of my enemy is my friend” vibe going.
“What are you doing here?” he finally said.
I glanced over at Jason, who was standing frozen. Vamps didn’t mesh well with Otherkin, either. In fact, vampires pretty much didn’t like anybody but themselves. Elan was silent as well. Hans, however, gave me an encouraging nod.
“We’re headed out on the Tremble to rescue someone. The Devani exiled him there the other day. He was a pawn in their games. We want him back.” I also happened to know just how little love anybody in the NW Quarters had for the Devani.
Another moment, and Head-Vamp motioned to the car. “Get in. If your story checks out, we’ll drive you back to the gate. But first, our sire’s going to want to meet you. Let’s get back to HQ, boys.” And without further ado, they pushed and prodded us into their long black cars and we were whisked off through the rowdy streets of the NW Quarters.
Headquarters was apparently a bombed-out mess of rubble, though it was still along the edge of the Tremble. But the rubble was just a cover. As we approached, a hidden door opened, leading into a scrap heap of twisted stone and metal. The asphalt turned into concrete, sloping down. We were headed into an underground bunker, which made sense. Vampires could be struck down by sunlight, an unfortunate side effect that mirrored the legends for which they were named.
The vamps had divided us up. Elan and Jason were in the other car, Hans and I were together. Nervous, I glanced at the burly bodyguard. Hans must have sensed my worry because he took my hand and gave it such a gentle squeeze that I couldn’t help but wonder. He could break hands if he squeezed hard enough.
It will be okay, he said in whisper-speak.
One of the vamps turned around and arched his eyebrows as he stared at us. “Worried, then?”
So vamps had exceptional hearing, too. That was news that might just come in handy later. I cleared my throat. “Not really, but I’m worried about our friend who’s stuck out on the Tremble. I hope this doesn’t take much time because Hecate’s not going to be happy if I’m detained.”
I wanted to text her. Surely Hecate wouldn’t leave me to the mercy of vampires. But if I made a move toward my phone, they’d probably get themselves in a lather. And Queet wasn’t around to run back to tell her. So we were on our own for now.
“We’ll get you to where you’re going, if you’re for real.” He turned back around, and I motioned to Hans to keep quiet. We didn’t need them eavesdropping on us.
I found myself holding my breath. I didn’t trust the roof to hold up over our heads. After all, most of the buildings left in the NW Quarters were damaged, and none could possibly meet any structural codes required now.
Another moment and we parked beneath a decaying sign that had at one time been readable, but now was a rusted vision of its former self. The vamps got out and motioned for us to follow. The garage was small and in all likelihood hadn’t started out as a garage but as the bottom floor of some building. Yellow lights illuminated the path toward the exit, and another series of bare yellow bulbs lit the way toward a door that looked to be heavy steel. There had been some retrofitting going on.
“This way.” The vamp wasn’t exactly rude, but he wasn’t expending any effort to be polite, either. He started to give me a little shove, but I turned to glare at him and he paused, then pulled his hand back. So Hecate’s name wielded some clout here after all.
The walls were dirty concrete but it was hard to tell what color they had been painted due to the yellow hue of the lights. I suspected they were either a light gray or a pale yellow. They also had large cracks running along them, which made me nervous. The last thing we needed was to be buried under tons of dust and concrete. I whispered a quick prayer that Gaia wouldn’t set off another quake while we were down here.
We joined up with Elan, Jason, and the vamps from the other car and headed toward the metal door. It had a keypad entrance, and one of the vamps shielded it from our view as he tapped in the code. But I had excellent hearing, and whisper-speak wasn’t limited to voices. I tried to home in on the tone of the buttons he pressed. I could hear the notes, and the four keys went in a descending order, high pitch, lower, lower still, and lowest. The door clicked and he pushed it open.
As we followed him into a corridor, it was a stark contrast to the soft yellow lights of the garage. The flickering fluorescents cast a bluish shadow over everything, and made the pale skin of the vamps even more grayish.
While vampires of mythology could mesmerize and all seemed so very beautiful, these boys seemed to have missed the boat on that. History said that vampires could hypnotize with a stare, but I had my doubts looking at the vamps who surrounded us. I wasn’t sensing any magnetic charm so either the mageogenetics hadn’t held true, or something was off base here.
I strained to remember my history lessons. Lore said that the techno-mages had missed the boat with vamps on the charm thing, but they had managed to buck the natural scheme of life. All vampires after that first failed attempt were, indeed, undead.
The original batch of genetically engineered soldiers had been bred to feed off blood, and their saliva contained a virus that both killed and resurrected their enemies. The idea had been to turn opponents into zombie-like warriors, under the control of their sires. But it hadn’t worked out that way. The resulting fallout proved deadly as the newly turned vampires retained their free will and reasoning. They weren’t mindless zombies and they didn’t obey their masters. In fact, history said they bolted as soon as they came back to life.
The entire genetics plan had been scrapped, but not before damage was done. All vamps were infected with the virus, but only humans were resurrected into vampire-hood with it. The infection just killed Otherkin. Theosians were an unknown factor. There were too few of us to know what exactly happened. No matter which way you sliced it, vamps weren’t buddies to anybody but themselves, and even that was suspect.
Jason, who had been silent up until now, suddenly paled and let out a gasp. He glanced over at me, alarm filling his eyes. Something must have occurred to him, but if he tried to tell me in whisper-speak, chances were the vampires would hear him. He twitched, and his breath was coming in short, shallow gulps.
We came to the end of the corridor, where another door and lock-pad waited. This time, the lock was thumbprint oriented. The vamp in charge pressed his thumb to it and the door clicked softly and swung open. As we followed him inside, the decor shifted so abruptly that for a moment it was hard for me to take in the difference.
We were still
in a hallway, with doors to either side, but gone were the sterile tones of the fluorescent lights. Here, lush hues of red and black colored the walls. Great drapes hung from the ceiling. The tapestries looked vaguely Orieasian in design. The floor shifted from concrete to a sparkling tile, a diamond pattern in ivory, red, and black.
A distinct, spicy jasmine scent hung heavy in the air. I recognized the fragrance from Aliana the Spice Goddess, one of the Market vendors in Darktown. I bought my perfume from her and this scent was one of her signature blends. Which meant that Aliana had a connection with the vampires. Just lovely, but good info to have.
The corridor appeared to open out into a large room. As we approached, our guide turned around and gave us a fangy smile. “Listen well. I will tell you this once, and once only. Be polite, state your business when spoken to, and if your story checks out, our master may let you go. Lie and we’ll find out quickly enough and ensure you never do again.”
“What should we call him? Your master?” As I spoke, Jason stiffened again, his attention focused on the vamp.
He let out a gruff laugh. “I doubt you’ve heard of him, yet, though soon the entire city of Seattle will know his name. Kython’s becoming quite popular, so when I take you in, I suggest you do your best to ingratiate yourself.”
Kython—he was the vampire Shevron was worried about. Len was too interested in him. By the look in Jason’s eye, I realized he had already figured this out. No wonder he was so on edge. But before I could say a word, our guide escorted us through the archway.
Chapter 12
The room was opulent. That was the only word for it. Opulent and frighteningly expensive. Silk and satin tapestries draped the walls, and the furniture looked straight out of some art museum, crafted in velvet and leather and metallic embroidery. Everywhere, surfaces were covered with bric-a-brac and art. Even I was able to recognize them as original pieces, rather than off some counterfeiting press. Everywhere I looked, the room was a jungle of wealth, a show of supremacy.