Defending the Lost Read online

  He peeked around the building just in time to see a man go flying down the hill, then realized it was only a body. The head came a moment later, followed by cannon debris.

  More bodies followed, then all was silent.

  “What the hell happened?” Garcia shouted, running forward. He came to a stop next to Felix and started swearing. The soldier they’d been with caught up to them too, then covered his mouth, looking sick.

  “Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so!’” Diego shouted.

  The man stepped back, hands up. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Back off,” Garcia ordered. “He’s not the enemy here. That man is.”

  With that, Diego turned back to see the large blood-covered man crawling toward the shotgun.

  Diego strode over to him, not even bothering to run. He didn’t need to.

  He kicked the shotgun away, then stomped on the man’s hand.

  “Cannibal fuck!” He knelt on the man’s throat, preparing to do worse.

  “Don’t do it,” one of the vampires said, hand on his shoulder.

  Diego was torn. “That you, Brad?”

  The vampire nodded.

  “I…I’ll talk,” the man muttered, his voice choking off at the end.

  Diego stood, picked up the shotgun, and aimed it at the man. “You better have something damn good to say.” He put the barrel over his shoulder and nodded, feeling a cool breeze on his ass. “I’m going to get dressed. If you’re not giving us verbal gold by the time I return, I’m torturing the shit out of you. Literally.”

  And with that he walked off to find his clothes, almost hoping the man didn’t deliver. To his dismay, the man started blabbing almost immediately, going on and on about the different groups nearby, insisting he could show them on a map if they just kept him alive.

  Diego sighed, pulling on his pants. It looked like they were about to have another prisoner in New York. But that man had better hope Felix could heal from such an insane wound, or nothing would hold Diego back.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  New York

  The city was peaceful with Diego and the others gone. Not that most people would have noticed, but for Sandra it was a time during which she could finally relax. Peaceful but a bit lonely, she started to think after they had only been gone a few hours. She had to laugh at herself for that.

  Getting lazy would be a mistake, she reminded herself, but she knew the vampires had their eyes on the one Clara thought might be a traitor. But until he made a move, they couldn’t do anything.

  Meanwhile, she had requested that Jackson and the others keep an eye out, and they even had Clara working with them. She figured they would be dealing with a lot of the homeless, the most likely starting point for outsiders if they came into the city. She needed Clara and Platea’s eyes and ears at the ready to alert her to anything suspicious. The fact that they both had experience as pirates meant they knew how to fight, which was a plus, but it didn’t earn them any trust points even though they had come out with the information before Bronson had a chance to.

  She stopped by the café and gave the waitress a nod, then joined Bronson and his three kids at the bar along the window where they were people watching.

  “You all have done wonders for this city,” Bronson complimented her. “I mean, compared to when you arrived, this is day to that place’s night.”

  “This city needs to be a place where families can live without worry,” she replied. “It needs to be the city people who want peace can come to and maybe buy a slice of cheese and a glass of wine between trips to get new shoes or whatever they choose to do with all that peaceful free time.”

  “But?”

  She sighed. “But we still have a long way to go.”

  “Even when it’s at peace here, you still have the rest of the world to deal with.”

  “We’re working on it.” She noticed the youngest boy staring at her, and smiled. “What’s your name again?”

  “Allan,” he reminded her. “You’re not one of us?”

  “Us?”

  He made his eyes turn yellow for a split second, then smiled with sharp teeth.

  “Don’t do that here, please,” she whispered. “And no, but my husband is.”

  Bronson glanced down at her belly, his expression suddenly serious. “That’s right. What’ll that mean for the baby?”

  “You would know better than I.” She laughed. “I mean, you got one out of three, right?”

  “Our mom was one,” Allan said proudly, “but I was also bitten.”

  “Interesting,” she noted. “So genetics don’t make it automatic?”

  “Seems that way,” Bronson answered. “But I’m hardly an authority on the subject. Just have this little example here.”

  A Were went running by then, paused, and then turned back to the window after he saw her. He came in and knelt beside the table to whisper, “He’s on the move.”

  “What? In daylight?”

  The wolf shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  She frowned, then understood. “One of the assassin suits.” The vampire Clara had identified must have taken one of the suits Brad and the others had brought with them when they arrived—suits that covered their faces and skin so that the daylight didn’t kill them.

  “Merde.” She stood. “Excuse me. Tell the kitchen I’ve got you covered.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Bronson argued but she waved him off.

  “I want to.” She ran outside with the Were and asked, “Which way?”

  The Were gestured for her to follow, going back the way he had come and then turning down an alley. “Donnoly was smart, had three pairs of vampires sleeping in the assassin suits so they would be ready in case this happened.”

  “And they’re tracking him?”

  He nodded. “One came back to report that they had last seen him at the north side of Capital Square.”

  She came to a stop and looked back, confused. “So why are we moving south?”

  “The Colonel gave specific orders to get you out of there,” the Were replied, voice heavy with agitation. “What exactly do you think you’ll be able to do that a team of vampires can’t?”

  She frowned, then said, “To hell with that,” and took off running the other direction.

  “Don’t make me—”

  “Make you what?” she called over her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I outrank you. Try anything, and we’ll find out.”

  She heard him swearing as she turned the corner, keeping to the storefronts as she ran since the majority of the day’s crowd was milling about in the square. She would make better time this way.

  What the hell did she expect to accomplish? The question repeated itself in her mind over and over as she ran, but she knew she couldn’t let that vampire get away. There was clearly a reason for him to be here, and that reason likely had to do with some plot to upset the peace.

  That would not be tolerated.

  Not in her home, and her home was now New York.

  Just past the old billboard to her left, people started screaming and the crowd moved like a school of fish scattering out of the way of an advancing shark.

  Two vampires dressed in black went tumbling into the open space they had created and then the moving crowd blocked Sandra’s view. Pushing to get closer, she started wheezing for breath but was almost there. The crowd moved again as one of the vampires spun and tore the mask from the other.

  Sandra’s instincts flared. She had to get everyone’s attention before they saw what would happen to that vampire.

  “Gun!” she screamed, and turned, pointing.

  To her relief, more people did the same, acting like a bunch of lemmings and diving out of the way as they screamed and shouted, “Gun!” over and over.

  She pushed through them and made it to the circle in time to see the exposed vampire, one she had seen around HQ a few times. His face contorted with pain, and she couldn’t bear to watch.

 
Even as her eyes turned away, she saw the other vampire escaping in a blur of black.

  “No,” she croaked, trying to catch her breath. Dammit, it couldn’t end like this. “NO!”

  The dead vampire at her feet had his pistol still, so now her gun scare was about to become reality. She dove, unlatched it, and lifted the pistol to aim. Damn, that vampire was fast. He had already reached the buildings and was about to disappear down one of the major streets.

  Crack! Her shot made a hole in one of the bricks as the vampire darted out of view.

  A moment later there was another crack, and the vampire flew back. She stared, confused, until two more black-clad vampires appeared from the same direction. They must’ve intercepted him.

  By the look of their fighting stances these two were well trained, likely from Brad’s group.

  One pulled a pistol, the other a sword.

  Dammit, not here, Sandra thought. “Get him out of the square!” she shouted, running over to them.

  The closer vampire noticed her and gave a slight nod, and then the enemy got up and had snatched that one’s sword in his moment of distraction. Sandra held her hand over her mouth, pissed at herself for that.

  She ran for them, understanding that the situation was better off in their hands but also knowing she couldn’t just stand by.

  A shot was fired and the enemy vampire stumbled back, then saw a woman fleeing and went for her.

  But Sandra was ready. She trailed him, got a good lead, and—

  Crack!

  Her shot actually hit him! He stumbled forward and sprawled face-first on the cement, sword clattering to the ground.

  The two vampires were on him in a second, pulling him back and out of sight. Men, women, and children who had been fleeing moments before started to turn, shouting in confusion, but Sandra stepped out and called, “Enforcer HQ has it under control, ladies and gentlemen,” though she wasn’t sure any of them could hear her over the noise they were creating.

  She ran after the vampires and found them in the shadows, the two having overcome the enemy. They had taken his mask off and stood in the shadows, sword to his throat, pistol to his head.

  “Do we need him for questioning?” one of the vampires asked. “Please say no.”

  “We can’t be executing people—vampires—out in the open streets,” she replied, and noted the flash of relief on the enemy vampire’s face. She leaned in toward him, holding her pistol at the ready. “Are there others like you?”

  He gritted his teeth, refusing to speak.

  “You don’t want to cooperate?” She smiled. “My boys here would prefer that, right boys?”

  “Damn straight,” one of them said.

  She nodded slowly and repeated her question. “Are there others?”

  For a moment the vampire looked like he might answer, but then just closed his eyes as if ready for death.

  “Oh, it won’t be that easy.” She laughed, then turned to the HQ vampires. “Take him around a corner, make sure it’ll take him a while to heal from whatever you do, and then get him back to the office for questioning.”

  She could almost feel their smiles under those masks. The enemy, to his credit, showed no expression of fear. He couldn’t hide it in his eyes though.

  They went to it, starting with a sword through the enemy’s leg to ensure he wouldn’t be able to escape. In a flash the three were gone, though she heard the enemy grunting in pain from somewhere not far off.

  It was this part of her job that she hated—causing anyone pain, as much as she liked the general idea of the enemy suffering. In her heart she always remembered how easy it was to be unsure which side was right and which was your enemy, so she always felt almost as much pity as sorrow for her enemies. Almost…but not quite.

  She made her way back to the square, looking at the crowds gathering, and realized that asshole back there had just set them back two steps in what they were trying to accomplish.

  Would the day ever come when the people of New York could sit back, relax, and know they were safe? She wanted to kick something or take something and smash it.

  Instead, she decided to focus that energy on the positive.

  She made her way to the building where she knew Jackson had his meetings with the homeless, descended the stairs, and was delighted to find him there with Loraine and the girl from Prince Edward Island, Clara.

  They were with a group of shabbily dressed others in a well-lit room. Some decorated pottery, others wove or knitted, many painted.

  “You really have changed,” she said to Jackson.

  He looked up from the bluebird he was painting on a plate and smiled. “Sometimes it’s necessary.”

  Sandra just nodded, picked up a paintbrush, and found a spot next to Clara. She picked up a small cup, then dipped a paintbrush in red. Soon she had lost herself in the action of painting tiny red roses just under the edge of the cup. He was right. That little action was like a cleansing bath for her soul. All her worries felt like they were washed away, replaced by a warm pleasantness.

  She paused, set the cup and paintbrush down, and put her hands on the small bump of her protruding belly. This was the world she wanted to bring her child into—one that felt like she did right then. Not the one of violence outside. No, that one would be cleaned up well before the baby came, she swore to herself.

  “Fartlicking shitbag!” a lady on the other side of the room shouted, causing Sandra to start. She was glad she hadn’t been holding the cup or she might have dropped it.

  When she looked at Jackson with a frown of confusion, he smiled and just whispered, “It’s part of the territory, but the healing process has helped her a great deal. Please, be patient.”

  Sandra wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so she just bit her lip, smiled, and returned to painting her cup.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Toro Inner City

  Valerie was growing more frustrated by the day. She stared out through the window, wondering where the hell Robin had gotten to. The woman deserved her space, that was fine and dandy, but leaving them to wonder like this? Not cool.

  To make it worse, none of them had found any information on Robin’s parents. They had been asking each and every slave they could manage to talk to, but were beginning to draw attention to themselves. No one knew anything, and Martha had reported that the foreman in the factory had taken her aside and warned her people were starting to report her odd behavior.

  “The best we can figure it,” Rand told them, “the slaves are kept in separate quarters based on the work they do. They wouldn’t know each other even if they were here.”

  “Meanwhile we have this council to think of, and who knows what’s going on with the Forsaken and their army of Nosferatu.” Brody sat in his chair, hands folded in front of him as if he were trying to appear calm. “How much longer do we just wait?”

  Valerie knew exactly what they were going through, and they were right. They had waited long enough.

  “I’m going after Robin.”

  They all looked at each other, then turned back to her. “Are you sure?” Martha asked. “All that stuff you said about splitting up, about letting her do what she needed to do…”

  “It’s clearly not working.” Valerie opened the window, glancing at her muddy pirate clothes, and then out into the night. Either way she was going to have to find new clothes, she decided, so wearing clean clothes for now beat those dirty rags.

  “And us?” Martha asked.

  “There’s no need to keep asking if we’re not finding anything of value.”

  “Actually…” Rand held up a finger, hesitant. “I wasn’t sure if this was relevant, but there’s been some commotion over an event that’s coming up. Something that’s got them all spooked, but they won’t talk about it.”

  Martha looked at him, nodding. “I’d heard about it. It has them worried.”

  Considering this, Valerie paused, looking Brody’s way. “Is this relevant?”


  He frowned, rubbing his hands together. “You might be referring to what the council has been calling the Games. A return to the old ways, they say. Something to inspire and motivate us all—the citizens of Toro. But if it has the slaves worried, perhaps it’s something that would affect them all.”

  “And therefore, it might be where Robin’s parents will show up.” Valerie had to find Robin before these Games, if for no other reason than to be sure she was aware of them. “Any idea where they will be held?”

  Brody laughed. “Where else would games be held?”

  Valerie just stared, confused, but Martha answered, “The stadium.”

  That made sense, but wasn’t a welcome answer considering the fact that Robin had been forced to train to be an assassin in an old stadium. Who knew what sort of traumatic memories it might hold for her, or what it would mean going to a large event like this in one.

  “Stay out of sight until that day,” Valerie commanded. “When it comes, I want you at the stadium, ready to leap at my signal.”

  “Let me guess, we’ll know it when we see it,” Rand quipped.

  She scoffed. “That’s stupid. No, find me, and when all hell breaks loose, I’ll signal you with a hand wave or by yelling something like ‘kill these rat-bastard fucks!’ That’ll be the signal.”

  With a nod, Rand laughed.

  “That’s my kind of signal,” Martha noted.

  Not wanting to waste another minute, Valerie went out the window. She turned and looked up the building, seeing no fire escape but plenty of ledges in the darkness. No one would see her climbing up here.

  She was fast, leaping to one ledge and holding on, then thrusting herself to the next. Soon she was on the rooftop, and it was just like she was back in New York, looking over the city.

  Only now she saw the dilapidated edges of Toro’s stadium in a different light. So, they kept it around for a reason. That made sense; it was a large one, after all. But where there had once been a complete dome, she could see it had mostly caved in long ago.