Darkness of day, p.25
Darkness of Day, page 25
Remy? Jelani mouthed the words to her. She shook her head and shrugged. They remained where they were, waiting in the silence. Jelani stole another look across the room at Melinda, still hiding behind the wall. She looked more puzzled than afraid, which was good, because he was getting angrier by the second. His brown eyes smoldered lavender, revealing his vampiric nature. If it wasn’t Remy, then it had to be one of his friends.
He crept to the side of the couch and peeked around. There had been no sound of shattering glass, so the bullet had to have come through the partially opened window on the far side of the room. Jelani looked back over at Melinda, who appeared to have come to the same conclusion.
“This is pissing me off,” he growled. She gave him another questioning look, but he was already around the couch and sprinting toward the window. His instincts sounded and he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding another bullet. The missile had barely passed before he was up and at the window, shoving it open. With a quick glance down, he leapt out. Another bullet fired, this one passing right through his shoulder.
The burning pain was no less excruciating than the last time he’d been shot. The sudden burst of white hot pain caused him to lose his bearings as he plummeted toward the ground. He hit the sidewalk hard, but it wasn’t the impact he felt, but the burn from that cursed silver.
“Holy shit!” he heard someone say. A man ran up and squatted beside him, looking up at the window that was far too high for a person to have survived a fall from. “You alright, man? You’re lucky to be alive at all.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call and get the paramedics here—”
“I’m fine,” Jelani growled through clenched teeth.
“Forget it, man. Don’t try to get up.”
From the corner of his eye, Jelani saw a figure drop down behind the man. “There won’t be a need for that.” It sounded like some kind of British accent, but Jelani couldn’t be sure.
“What?” The other man looked over his shoulder and, seeing the gun leveled at him, raised his hands and stood. “C’mon, man. This guy’s hurt. He needs to get to the hospital.”
“In a few minutes there won’t be enough left of him for the hospital to deal with.” His hand snapped out and grabbed the human by the throat. From his vantage point, Jelani saw his unfortunate would-be savior’s shaking feet leave the ground. There was a sickening ‘snap’ and the feet went limp.
The vampire tossed the dead man aside like he was a sack of clothes, then pointed the muzzle of his gun in Jelani’s face. “I don’t much like having to follow stupid fledgling shaquora around, but orders are orders. I’m tired of it. I supposed Remy will get over it when he discovers that I killed you when you tortured the information of his whereabouts from your former lover. You just went mad with rage when you found out she was working for Remy, after all.”
He suddenly leaped aside, just as Melinda crashed down on the spot where he’d been standing. “Ah! Two in one. Thank you for making this easier—”
He hadn’t the chance to finish the remark. Jelani shoved the fiery pain aside and dove into him. He lifted the other vampire off the ground and they crashed into a tree. Jelani rolled away, struggling to his feet.
With an angry hiss, the man swung his gun around. A muffled high-pitched whistle pierced the silence as he fired the weapon. Melinda tackled him from the side and the shot went wide. The sound of shattering glass broke the night silence. Melinda slashed and raked at him with her claws, then punched him in the face.
Jelani had never seen her so aggressive; almost savage. The other vampire dropped his gun and warded off her attacks, quickly turning the advantage. He reacted to her with such skill, Jelani had no doubt that this was a Hunter.
He deflected another of her raking claws and slapped her across the face, sending her spinning to the ground. She was up in an instant and, balling her fist, punched him in the nose.
His head snapped back, and she grabbed his jacket, drew back and punched again. His hand went up and he grabbed her fist. Melinda let out a high-pitched grunt as he squeezed and crushed her hand.
When Jelani saw her dropping to her knee and the Hunter standing over her, leaning to pick up his gun, Jelani’s vision narrowed into a tunnel of rage that had only his enemy at the other end.
He was up and across the dozen feet between them in an instant. He raked his claws across the Hunter’s face then grabbed the hand that held Melinda by the neck, whipped his other hand up, and slammed it into the Hunter’s elbow. A second sickening sound ‘crack’ broke the silence that night as the Hunter’s elbow was violently forced in the wrong direction.
“Auck!” the Hunter growled, and stumbled to the ground. Jelani picked up the gun and pointed it at his enemy, but then hesitated as he saw lights coming on in the apartments and houses up and down the street.
Melinda was on her feet, her hand already mending. The Hunter was healing just as quickly, and came to his feet. Seeing that they had drawn a neighborhood of spectators, he broke into a run.
Jelani shared a look with Melinda, and they went after him.
39
He was being led into a trap. All it had taken was for the scout to glance over his shoulder once, and Yako had gotten a quick glimpse into his eyes. The fool was ensuring that Yako was still behind him. He could either catch the imbecile now and kill him, or leave off the chase and let him report back. Remy knew as well as Yako that the Eldest Hunter would have had no trouble catching and killing his scout. Let the craven make what he would out of the situation.
Yako had just decided to back off when he caught a glimpse of a figure standing with his hands in his pockets at the top of winding stairs connected to the side of a building. A moment later they passed another spectator.
Yako gave a mental shake of his head. This scout was comically oblivious. How could Remy employ such incompetence?
Another figure up ahead was standing across the street beside a building, one hand in his pocket, the other bouncing a large object in his hand. The fleeing scout veered in his direction, and the figure launched the object with incredible force toward the scout.
His aim equaled his strength. The object struck the side of the scout’s head, throwing him off his feet to tumble midair to hit the ground in a heap. Before he could rise, Yako was on him, sword drawn, silver tip less than half an inch from the hollow of the other man’s throat.
“Where is Remy?”
“What? Who?”
Yako touched the tip of his sword to the scout’s throat, drawing a gasp. “Those who know me, know that I do not waste time with nonsense. You do not know me, so I will allow you this one mistake.”
As he spoke, Yako sensed the presence of at least half a dozen vampires converging on his position. He decided to leave the situation to his allies for the moment. “Use what little wisdom you command and answer my question.”
He watched the scout’s eyes look left, then closer left, then right, then slightly farther right, then up and left. “Or what?” he replied, his tone filled with defiance.
Yako drove the sword through his throat and into the concrete beneath him. “Or you will die before your aid reaches you.”
He withdrew the sword from the ground as if it were encased in butter and not concrete. He whipped the blade it around to deflect the descending sword of the attacker to his right. He drew the second sword he’d claimed from his slain foe at the construction site and parried another sword stabbing from the left. He dove into a roll, avoiding the bullet discharged from a silenced handgun.
He ran toward the shooter, then dropped and slid as another vampire fired at him. That was the fourth enemy, but the scout’s eyes had spoken of five. The silver bullets passed over the Eldest Hunter’s head and there was the agonized cry of someone being hit. The fifth attacker.
As he regained his feet, Yako whipped his right sword in an upward arc, severing the arm of the shooter in front of him, then bringing his left sword straight in and stabbing him through the chest. Seeing the life drain from the impaled Hunter, Yako brought his right sword up, tip pointing down, and blocked a horizontal swipe that would have taken his head from behind.
He pulled the left sword free and followed the motion through, slamming the butt of the weapon into the new attacker’s nose. The other man stumbled back, and Yako turned and brought his right sword over and down, slicing him down across the face and chest. Before the Hunter could cry out, Yako brought the sword back up, slicing him yet again, then impaled him with the second sword.
He kicked the dying vampire away. Now his enemies numbered three. Beyond the trio that cautiously encircled him, figures darted in every direction as vampires battled Darren’s lycan pack. The muffled sound of silenced handguns and dying fighters filled the air.
Yako regarded each of the Hunters that had surrounded him. “Loyalty to this degree for a coward is unusual,” he remarked. “You would die for someone who would not lead you in the fight?”
The other Hunters said nothing, just continued to study him. One was visibly favoring his left shoulder. Yako guessed it was the one who’d been hit by the missed silver bullet.
They were hesitating, afraid to engage him. Yako remembered having been told by a laughing Braggus Rayne that his reputation for mercilessness was spoken of by every Hunter in every coven. “I don’t even have a reputation like that!” the giant Reaper had said.
“Come, then,” the Eldest Hunter said. “Die for him.”
One Hunter did step forward to attack. She was the youngest of the group, and thus the one Yako had expected to move first. She brought her slender sword to bear, saluting in the fencing style. She took another half step forward and darted in for a quick strike. Yako was ready.
From the make of her sword, and her salute, she had given Yako all the information he needed. In less time than it took her to step before him, the Eldest Hunter had her dead and decaying on the ground.
The two remaining Hunters glanced at each other, suddenly at a loss for confidence. Yako faced them, casting his gaze from one to the other. “You are Hunters, are you not? The shadow of the warrior is the reflection of death.” He lowered his stance and readied his swords. “It is your time. Come and embrace your uncreation as warriors.”
Both Hunters had their swords leveled at him, but he could see the fear in their eyes. They were going to run. “Do not disgrace your coven or the rank which you have earned,” he admonished them.
They fled. Yako sheathed his swords and went after them. Never, ever, would he allow a cravenly Hunter to live.
He caught up to the closest vampire and leaped forward, drew a silver dagger in midair, and buried it in the other Hunter’s back. He went down with little more than a gasp, and Yako launched himself off the other’s back, gliding forward to land on the second.
At the moment of impact, Yako buried the dagger in the back of his neck. The Hunter died the instant he hit the ground. Yako rose and looked disdainfully at the decaying corpse. Something needed to be done. Never had he seen so many cowardly Hunters. Disgraceful.
He shook his head when yet another Hunter stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of him. How many of my own kind must I kill tonight?
A very large figure dropped from a low rooftop behind Yako’s new enemy. The vampire spun on the threat but it was too late. A large hand with elongated claws tore through the Hunter’s back and lift him into the air.
With little effort, Imron tossed the vampire aside and approached Yako. He held his hands out. “If you can excuse the remains of your comrade dripping from my hand here, I come in peace.”
“I know.”
Imron smiled. “Ever the friendly one.”
Yako looked around. A few humans were quietly scurrying away. There was no reason to pursue, for the lycans had refrained from transforming. There was nothing about this conflict that spoke of anything more than a deadly fight between two gangs.
The conflict was ending as quickly as it had begun. Yako hadn’t the chance to take the number of his enemy, but only four remained, and they were in flight.
Imron saw it as well. “They wouldn’t so easily get away if we had more freedom in how we could deal with them.”
Yako nodded. “Running through the city in your lupine forms would garner a little more attention than you’d want.”
Imron looked back at Yako, a smirk on his rocky features. “You know, I’ve always wondered what would happen if one of us or the other was discovered. If humans found out you bloods actually existed, would they automatically assume we did, as well? And how about the other way around?”
“Best if we never find out,” Yako replied, wiping his daggers on the clothes of the decayed vampire.
“Darren thought to come back tomorrow, but changed his mind,” Imron said, as they walked away from the site of the carnage and toward a less busy street. Lycans carried their dead over their shoulders and followed. “He thinks it might be best if he remains in Sinaia to aid Mariska.” He glanced at Yako, his face growing serious. “Seems to think what’s about to go down might be a little beyond what she can handle on her own.”
“He may be right,” Yako said. That brought a look of surprise to Imron’s face.
They rounded a corner where they met with a few members of the pack and waited for the rest. Unlike vampires, werewolves were a bit more human. When they died, they reverted to their human form, but did not instantly decay.
“You’re planning to leave again also?” Imron guessed.
Yako looked up to the rooftops and the cloudy night sky beyond. He needed to find the trail of those who fled the fight. “Yes.”
The smirk returned and the hulking lycan looked down at him. “Trouble in the land of the bloods?”
“Yes.” Yako jumped, catching hold of a balcony rail and lifted himself up. From below he heard Imron muttering to a friend.
“Humph. He talks too much.”
Yako paid the sarcastic remark no mind and continued up. As soon as he reached the roof, he sprinted across and leaped the thirty-foot distance to the next rooftop, angling in the direction the four fleeing Hunters had gone.
Yako focused his hearing, not on the vampires, but their lycan pursuers. Vampires did not require much oxygen and as such, breathed a lot less and had nearly endless endurance. Their lycan pursuers, on the other hand, were faster on the sprint, and had excellent endurance as well, but could not last indefinitely. As they continued the chase, their breathing would become more labored and the Eldest Hunter would hear them if he was close enough.
And soon he did hear them, seconds before they came into view. Two females and a male. They ran faster than any human could ever dream of running, but they were tiring. Yako looked ahead and saw four figures gradually stretching the distance between themselves and their pursuers.
Yako increased his pace, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. He held a tactical advantage from his position. The fleeing Hunters would have been in a better position on the rooftops, but the time it would take them to leap along the side of a building would be enough for the three lycans to catch them. A werewolf could jump much higher than a vampire, and the Hunters would have simply been plucked from the side of the building.
Yako sped past the three tiring werewolves and closed on the other vampires. Traitorous vampires weren’t any more unusual than in human societies. But renegade Hunters? Remy and Massius would pay for turning his noble order into this travesty.
Yako readied a throwing dagger and continued to pace them from above, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long. One of the Hunters fell behind a few paces. Yako’s hand whipped out. A pure silver dagger flew from his hand, straight and true. The tip struck through the back of his target’s head. The Hunter fell to the ground without a sound.
Yako continued to follow the remaining three until another fell behind and he dispatched her in the same manner. One of them glanced over his shoulder and saw that there was no more pursuit, but that they were also lacking two of their comrades. With little regard, they wrote off the other two and continued on. Likely, they figured the lycans had caught the other two and they were safe.
Yako had a decision to make. He only needed one of them to lead him back to Remy, or whoever sent them. However, if he dispatched one of them, they would know they were being followed. Yako gave them a little distance.
They finally came to a stop at the underpass of Cambie Street. Yako remained atop a low-rise across the street and watched and listened.
“Looks like they got Larna and Dak,” one of them said.
“That’s fine,” the other vampire said. “They didn’t get us. Maybe later, when all this is done, we can get a group together and go hunting.”
Such disregard for the fate of their companions. These were not the principles that the Hunters were founded upon. Whether Massius was behind their inception or not, Yako’s ancestor had created it. The principles upon which the Shimamoto clan had lived were interwoven into the order of Hunters. Yako had known it to be true the moment he’d read that his ancestor had formed the Hunters at Massius’s behest. The signs were everywhere now that he knew to look.
Yako’s simmering eyes narrowed. Remy and Massius were disgracing everything the Hunters stood for. He would follow these two and when they led him to his quarry, he would kill them. Then he would kill Remy and his cravenly master across the sea. Then he would hunt down and kill the ones who served Massius. Every one of them.
40
The name displayed on his ringing phone was not unexpected. “Hey, boss. What’s up? Yeah, we lost two, and four bloods escaped. Three of ours went in pursuit, but I don’t think they’ll catch them.” He offered a slanted smile that he knew the pack leader couldn’t see. “I think your best buddy went after them, too.” A moment later, the smile disappeared. “How many?”
The phone still pressed to his ear, Imron reflexively looked northwest, toward Coal Harbour. “The rest of the pack has gone back underground, but I’ll get over there right now.” The call ended and he put his phone in his pocket. “Shit.”
