“Does it hurt when I do that?” he asks.
Jaxen slaps his hand away, and then turns and pokes Weldon’s bad eye. “I don’t know… does it?”
They’re chuckling as Jezi smacks one, and then the other, upside the head. After everyone outside is loaded up, the driver shifts the van into drive. We take off in a tight formation, heading toward the place where Weldon used to live.
After about twenty minutes of quiet chatter, Weldon perks up and asks everyone, “Has anyone been in this area before?” He holds up the map that shows where we’re headed.
“Gav and I have,” Jaxen says. He’s leaned forward, watching the GPS as if it will shut off at any moment.
“Me too,” Jezi says from behind us. I turn just enough so I can see them. She’s squished in between Weldon and Damien, looking like she could shoot any one of us.
Lukah leans forward from the third row, resting his forearm on the back of the seat behind Jezi, who cringes.
Her personal bubble has been all kinds of popped today.
“You’re talking about Central Brooklyn, right?” Lukah asks, uncaring that Jezi’s scowl is a mile wide.
“Yeah,” Weldon says, turning to see him better.
“Dude, Damien and I scoped that area out back when we were on the run. There were at least a few hundred vampers racked up in that abandoned area.”
I glance at Damien, who is as statue still and quiet as Gavin is.
Jaxen looks over his shoulder at Lukah. “How far did you scope? There had to be more than that. We used to hunt that section nightly.” He nudges Gavin, trying to get him to warm up a little. “What was our ending count with the hunts?”
Gavin clears his throat. “Six hundred and twenty-three kills between the two—”
Jezi sucks her teeth and pushes the back of the seat.
“I mean four of us,” Gavin quickly corrects, his voice closed off. He looks out the window again as a sad quiet takes over the van for a moment.
Lukah looks over at Damien. “What you think, man? We murked about forty percent of their number, right?”
Damien nods, still not saying anything.
“Yeah,” Lukah says, wearing a wide grin. “We run wild everywhere we go. Take out any competition that might be around us, including other punk ass weres.”
“You do that a lot?” Jaxen asks.
“Of course, man. We’re like the lead hunters of our pack. It’s our job to make sure we’re safe and to keep us fed.”
“Hey, man,” Weldon turns to say. “I was going ask you from one cannibal to another. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever fed on?”
“Really?” Toby says, the disgust in his voice matching what I feel.
“I had a great breakfast, and I’d rather not lose it,” Bianca adds from beside him.
Weldon and Lukah don’t look the least bit concerned. “Truthfully?” Lukah says, rubbing his chin in thought. “There was this sick ass Bison we came across one time. Dude, it was legit. We were shifted, and he sniffed trouble. Came charging at us like a racehorse. Damien and I tag-teamed his ass, taking nips at his front legs until he finally crashed. The rest was history. We ate like kings that week. You?”
Jezi cringes. My stomach flips over on itself as my brain tries to scrub away the images left behind.
“I’ll have to go with the demon who put me in the Exanimator.”
All our heads jerk in his direction.
“I ran into him a few years after I had been released, you know, back when I was starving myself out of shame. I decided I had gone hungry long enough the moment I laid eyes on him.” He stops for a moment before looking at Damien. “You don’t say much, do you?”
Damien looks at him, and then looks out the window.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Lukah waves his hand out. “Nah, man. Damien doesn’t talk much period. He’s like the Donatello to my Leonardo.” He grabs Damien’s shoulders and squeezes hard, laughing when a smidgen of a smirk appears across Damien’s lips. “Oh, come on, man. You know you’re all like, ‘Look at this new trap I just made for us. It cuts the hunting time in half!’ Always inventing and shiz.”
Damien rolls his eyes reluctantly.
“Anyway. Are we there yet?” Lukah asks.
“GPS says two minutes,” Jaxen says. “So make sure all your shit is ready to go.” He slides his hand over my thigh and squeezes, pulling my attention onto him. In his eyes, I know he’s telling me he loves me. Telling me to be careful. Telling me a thousand different conflicting things. I can’t help but love him more for it. I lean over and kiss his cheek, letting that be my answer.
The driver pulls into a desolate parking lot of an abandoned gas station and shuts off the engine. “All right, folks. We’re here.”
Gavin slides the door open and hops out, followed by Jaxen, who offers me his hand. I take it and get out, watching the rest pile up around the back of the van. Duffel bags packed full of weapons and supplies are equally distributed, and then we each take our earpieces meant to keep us in contact with one another.
“How do you turn this on again?” Lukah asks as he slides the piece the wrong way in his ear.
“Here,” I say, hesitantly taking it from him. I try not to stare into his charming, silver eyes as I flip the piece over and show him the tiny power button. “The power is here, and the volume and speaker are here.” I point to the cord. “All you have to do is talk and the speaker will transmit your voice to all of us.”
“Just don’t jam the receiver with a bunch of mumbo-jumbo,” Gavin says as he slides the clip into his gun and puts it in the holster on his side. “When you want to talk to us, put the piece in your ear. When you need to talk to Watchmen, mute it until you’re done. Otherwise, there will be too many voices to distinguish.”
“Got it,” Lukah says.
Damien sets his bag down, only taking the earpiece from us. He doesn’t explain why, but I assume it’s because he doesn’t want to use our weapons. Understandably so. Lukah, however, has put as many as he can fit onto his body. He looks more metal than human.
“Everyone ready?” Gavin asks, taking his time to lock eyes with each person. When he’s satisfied with the nods, he says, “Okay. Let’s move out.”
WE END UP ON A lone street somewhere in Brooklyn outside of an abandoned theater.
There isn’t a soul in sight as the winter chill beats against our uniforms. Every building on the block has boarded up windows and for-sale signs plastered on the doors. It’s a breeding ground for unwanted paranormals. A place where I could have ended up patrolling night after night had I been born decades before and not with this Everlasting gene.
I push a wave of volation out, checking for any paranormals that might hinder our plan. There are a few vampires down the street in a boarded-up shop, most likely sleeping through the day until night falls, and another nest on the other end of the street in a vacant building. A large part of me wants to handle them before we deal with Meredith, but I know the clock is ticking. Vampires are the least of our worries at the moment.
“Never thought I’d see this place again,” Weldon says, looking up at the building across the street. “It kind of feels like one of those weird moments where you run into someone who used to be your closest friend. You know them, but only as who they were then. Not who they are now.”
He looks back at me, but his eyes are unfocused. They’re stuck in another time, seeing something I can’t.
“Deep,” I say, smirking at him to help get him out of his own head. “So this is where Meredith wanted us to come?”
“The sleeping lion? Yeah.” He steps back and points up toward a sign that’s half hanging.
Lyon Theatre.
“How clever,” I say to myself as I follow Weldon and the rest across a small, white field around to the back of the building. Every step I take sinks into the thick, powdery snow, leaving tracks to follow. I don’t sense any dark energy the way I normally do when Darkyns are near
, and I don’t know if I should feel unsettled by it or not.
“I don’t like this,” Katie says as she moves in on the other side of me.
“I know,” I say, wishing she didn’t have to go through with this.
“Man, it’s cold as shit out here,” Lukah says as he pulls his arms against his body.
“You run hotter than the rest of us,” Jezi says with a snort.
Lukah looks over at her, eyebrows raised. “I know! That’s what I mean. If I’m cold, then you know it’s cold.”
“You think she’s still here?” Bianca asks to no one in particular. She’s huddled close to Toby.
“She better be,” Weldon replies as we near the back of the building. The small delivery area behind the theater shows its years of abandonment. Metal trash cans are overturned. A dumpster overflows with a sickening stench that leaves a thick, crude taste in my mouth. Shards of brown and green glass are scattered about like a grunge-style mosaic. Molded wooden crates are stacked haphazardly about, some split in two and others left whole.
Weldon turns on Jaxen and me while the rest continue forward. “If shit goes south, I’m going to shadow walk us back to Ethryeal City, so stay close enough for me to grab you, okay?”
Jaxen nods as I say, “Okay.”
He turns back as Katie looks at me in panic, and then I hear him curse under his breath, like he just remembered something. When he spins on us, Katie almost jumps back. “You too,” he says to her. “Stay close and I’ll get you out.”
Katie mouths her thanks as he turns back around. Gavin stops in front of a back door subjected to years of abuse. Flakes of metal peel outward from large, claw-like marks. Like something had raked a hand against the door, trying to scratch their way in.
“Oh, she’s definitely here,” Weldon says as his nose lifts to the air. “There’s a certain stench that always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Like sniffing out a whore in a church.”
I make a face, laughing as the door swings open, barely missing Gavin’s face. I half-expect to see someone snickering or apologizing for not seeing him, but there’s no one on the other side. Just a deep shadow stretching into forever. A clammy breeze sweeps out from inside the theater, carrying a nauseatingly sweet smell.
We all peer in, only finding darkness on the other side of the threshold.
“Whore?”
It’s Meredith, though we can’t see her.
“Like what I did there?” Weldon says, nudging me. “I don’t care what side of the team you play on, no one likes the W word.”
Her form appears, and I hear Katie gasp from behind me.
She has a sort of wild beauty about her. Dark, thick hair that’s parted to the left and hangs slightly past her shoulders. An angled face with wide brown eyes full of danger. I see bits of Katie and Eliza in her. In the thickness of her lips and the slenderness of her nose. I wonder what Katie must be thinking right now as she stands feet away from her aunt.
“Judging by the golden eyes and smug air, I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re Weldon,” Meredith says, her hands open at her sides with magic pulsing within her palms.
“Good guess,” Weldon says, standing slightly in front of me.
Those that don’t have magic to counteract Meredith should she do something stupid point their guns at her. Including Katie, whose hands are trembling, though I don’t think it’s from the cold.
Meredith must sense her because her eyes immediately train on her. I think Katie might faint right here in front of us. “A Fellwood,” she says, her eyebrows puzzled together.
Katie gulps loudly. “My name is Katie Coccia,” she corrects, trying to hold her hands steady.
“Coccia,” Meredith repeats, as if the name was a fly she wants to squash. “And you.” She looks directly at me. “You don’t look half as weak as they made you out to be in the Underground.”
“Just give me the word and I’ll take this bitch out,” Gavin says, moving closer so his gun is just inches away from her temple. His death wish is obvious in his actions.
She’s looking at him, her magic forming around her, just waiting for him to slip up.
“Why did you reach out to me?” I ask, moving to the front of the group. I feel the rest fall in right behind me, aim still on Meredith.
Her dark eyes avert back to mine. “Because I owe a friend a favor, and I don’t back out of favors.”
“Says the Darkyn who stands against all that is good,” Jezi says with a sneer.
Meredith’s eyes flash with anger.
“And who would this friend be?” Weldon asks, bringing the attention onto him.
Her sharp gaze lands on him. “Claire.”
DANK, MOLDY AIR CLINGS TO us like a saran wrap, despite the morning chill.
I haven’t seen Weldon turn that many shades of pale before.
“Why should we believe you?” I ask, my grip tight on my gun.
“Do you really have a choice?” she counters. “Sure, I could be lying, but why would I go through the trouble of entering your precious city, risking my life in the process, if I were lying?”
“To lure her into a trap,” Jaxen says, his tone flat.
She looks around us, and then laughs. “A trap? Go on, use your silly volation and tell me how many Darkyns are around here.” She waits. No one says anything. “That’s right. None. There is no trap. There’s only an impatient me who has waited months on end for you to get your act together and meet me.
“If I wanted to, you all would have already been dead before you got out of that van. I knew you were here, and I have the brains to set enough traps to take you out should I want to. But,” she says, her finger in the air, “that isn’t my intention.”
“Now,” she says, her magic fizzling out. “If you’ll follow me under the cover of my protection spell, I’ll explain all I can to you.”
She waits a moment, as if she’s weighing what we’ll do.
“Oh, for Goddess’ sake. Here, link up with me and I’ll show you my good intentions.” She sticks her hand out, waiting for one of us to grab onto it. “Come on. You want to know if I’m telling the truth? Well, the quickest way is asking me inside my inner balance where I cannot tell a lie.”
I don’t hesitate.
The moment we touch, I’m brought into her inner balance. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a sauna as heat licks every inch of my exposed skin. We’re standing in what I can only imagine is hell. Fire is all around us in raging swirls.
“It’s inviting, isn’t it?” she says, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “So go on, ask me.”
“What are your intentions with me?”
She looks me dead in the eye. “I’m going to use you to get to my friend Claire, who is still locked up down there, and then help you take out the Exanimator.”
I don’t bat a lash. “Use me how?”
“In any way I can. If I have to turn you in, I will, though I think if we’re smart about it, we can skirt around that plan.”
“How so?”
“By doing what I say. I have a vendetta with the Darkyns, and seeing that machine taken down once and for all might just cure me of it. You’re the only one who can do that, right?”
I’m instantly compelled to tell her the answer. “Yes.”
“Good. So see… you help me. I help you. We both win.”
With that, she lets go and the connection is broken. Jaxen’s staring at me, searching for any sign of something gone wrong.
“We can trust her,” I say.
“You see? Now, put those silly weapons away and we’ll call it even.” With that, Meredith turns and heads back inside, leaving us looking at one another in question.
Jaxen turns to Gavin. We all wait for him. He presses his earpiece and waits for Sterling and my father’s orders. A second later, he drops his hands and look to us. “We go in after her.”
“I read her aura,” Bianca adds. “She didn’t appear to be lying.”
Jezi spins around. “Bi
anca, is it?” Bianca nods, and I just know what’s coming. Jezi’s on edge and looking for a victim. “Her aura is black…”
“Yeah, so?”
Jezi rolls her eyes and huffs. “You must be fresh out of the academy. You can’t read a lie from a black aura. I doubt you aced your last trial.”
“What a minute now,” Toby starts to say as Bianca’s eyes fill with tears. Jaxen steps in, trying to smooth over what Jezi said.
A part of me wants to tell Bianca not to mind Jezi. This is how she deals with stress. There has to be one pincushion she can stick her attitude on, but I don’t say a word.
“That’s enough!” Gavin shouts at the two bickering as he re-holsters his gun. “It doesn’t matter if she’s lying or not. We go in, get the information we need from her, and then we finish this mission.” He scowls at us all, and then enters the theater, leaving us following after.
The theater has a grandness about it that seems to have been forgotten over the years. Light trickles in through a hole in the roof, feeding various weeds sprouting up through the cracks in the floor. Pieces of rusted rebar and chunks of broken concrete create the lethal hole offering pristine light. Tarnished, red paint covers the ceiling. Large circles of bare, cracked concrete reveal where the paint has been chipped away by harsh weather. Tattered, molded fabrics of cream and teal cling to the balcony above us and wrap around the base of the theater.
Tiny piles of snow rest at an angle under the hole, gradually turning into discolored slush as the sun rises higher. Bits of red carpet remain under our feet, littered with dirt and powdered concrete. All but a select few of the wooden theater seats have been removed and stacked near the stage in a pile I assume is being used for firewood. A table large enough to seat a room full of guests holds fat red candles stacked around the center. Silver plates adorned with rotten food and golden goblets filled with crimson liquid are scattered along it with trails of cobwebs lingering over top.
I don’t have to ask what the liquid is.
Large, odd-looking symbols are spray painted on the tea-colored walls in bright neon colors, giving the place a grungy, goth feel. They wrap around the entire room in all different shapes and sizes, sort of resembling what cavemen drew. I can’t help but feel something familiar about them. Like I’ve seen them somewhere before. I just can’t place it.