Obsidian Gate - Chapter Thirteen

*Finally! I finished it! Hopefully everything goes as planned and everyone enjoys this. Comments, questions, etc. Y'all know the drill! *

Chapter Thirteen:
RISING CRESCENDO

- New Orleans -

The gunshot that killed Rudy Devlin was whisper quiet. The bullet rocketed through the air with barely a token vibration and no one saw it coming. One moment, Rudy was alive and well, laughing with his friends, and the next, he suddenly clutched his throat and slumped to the ground. While his concerned friends gathered around Rudy frantically trying to stem the flow of blood that had suddenly seeped up, his killer stood several buildings away and melted into the shadows with a rather impressive rifle. Her name was Marianne Devereaux and she was one of the best there was at what she did.
Breathing an internal sigh of relief that the night’s work was done, Marianne drifted down to the alley beside the building, landing quiet as a cat and slunk quietly away. Turning onto St. Andrew Street, the woman stowed her weapon in a special pocket of her black trench coat, glad that a freak cold spell made the disguise viable. She was an attractive woman though she made a living keeping to the shadows. She stood easily five ten though the pants she wore made her look even taller than her long legs did. Her hair was an odd color, not quite dark enough to be brown but not light enough to be blonde and it hung mid way down her back and was pulled back into tight cornrows, dangling with pastel colored beads, in shades of white, pink, blue, and yellow. Marianne flicked a strand back enjoying the clink of beads and the weight of the braids hitting her back and focused her brown eyes on her destination, her tan skin tatooed from the neon lights and street lamps as she moved.
She was about to start humming an old creole lullabye from her childhood when a tense vibration began in one of her pockets.
“C’est moi,” Marianne said, after retrieving her cell phone and briefly glancing at the number on the caller i.d.
She tried to keep her voice as calm as she possibly could, however, talking to her boss always managed to unnerve her, no matter how she struggled to hide it. Face pale and hands trembling, she awaited his response.
“Where are you?” the vampire, her boss, demanded in his ringing, silken French tones, “Ou est toi?”
“Ah’m in de French Quarter,” Marianne replied, “What ch’y’all need.”
Marianne really wanted to scream at her boss but she knew better. He was the Master of the City and he would make her life a living Hell if he wanted. He ruled all of the vampires and most of the underground activity in the city with a ruthless hand and it was not too far fetched to think that the loss of one measly human underling wouldn’t bother him too much.
“Meet me at Jean LaFitte airport right now,” the Master snapped, “The injunction's over. We're going to collect her.”
“What?!”
Marianne began to scream, to question, to demand answers, however, the vampire had already hung up. The woman ground her teeth in frustration as she hung up her own cell phone, then forced herself to take several deep breaths and calmed herself. Anger and fear would not help her. Marianne knew her boss lived and thrived on negative human emotions so there was no need to feed or encourage him farther. It did not take long for Marianne to make her way to the sleek green and black Yamaha motorcycle she owned. She donned her plain black helmet and sped through the streets of New Orleans like a silent deadly bat out of Hell. When the Master of New Orleans called, you did not keep him waiting.
The ride to the airport was swift and uneventful and Marianne pulled up beside the Master’s sleek, white jet before she knew it. The vampire, of course, was already waiting.
“What kept you?” he demanded.
The Master stood there, arms crossed, looking model perfect like a GQ meets Addams Family cover boy. His simple white suit only accentuated his pale, pale skin and his face was certainly handsome enough, almost pretty, when he wasn’t scowling. His short brown hair had recently been cut into a style that really flattered it, all spikes and almost punk style long bangs to frame his face. It brought out the red and gold highlights deep in his hair and made his blue/violet eyes stand out in stark contrast to his hair’s darkness. Marianne resented the Hell out of that, especially when her bangs were wild as she pulled off her helmet. She set it with her bike in the jet hanger and returned to where her boss stood waiting, trying not to scowl at him.
“Ah got here’s fast as I could, boss,” she said quietly.
The vampire glared at the woman until she began to squirm.
“Get on the plane, Marianne,” he said, short, clipped, and filled with malice.
Marianne stopped arguing, mastered her fear and her resentment, and filed in behind the Master as he climbed aboard the plane. Following his lead, Marianne chose herself a seat next to a window. The interior of the plane was comfortable and homey, despite the relatively small size of it, all done up in neutral tones. Marianne strapped herself in and flipped open her window so she could at least enjoy the view during take off. She knew darn well that her boss would personally close and lock every window himself to be protected from the sun as soon as possible. After a few minutes, the plane effected a perfect take off and, when the plane had taxied off the runway, Marianne turned to her boss and finally broke the silence between them.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
The vampire did not answer immediately but when he did, it was quietly.
“New York City.”

2.

- New York -

The grand reopening of Charlie’s Nightclub was one week later. The damage to the front of the club had all been completely erased and the bar was restocked so that no one could even tell there had been an explosion. After a brief article in the paper, the incident was forgotten, no more than an angry, uncomfortable memory. Charlie himself was released from the hospital several days later totally healed, as if he had never been injured and he went right back to work as if nothing had happened. The Sirens, realizing that they would be spread too thin to try and aid the police as well as attempting to find Danthias’s portal, concentrated on looking for clues to get the elf home, though they met with little success. A visit to the alley where Dan had appeared on Earth yielded very little beyond a trace magical residue and the silver elf began to miss his home more and more.
Two days after the fight at Linn’s house, Alexandra suggested that Danthias move out of Charlie’s spare room and spend the rest of his time on Earth rotating where he stayed. Not wanting to see Charlie put in any more danger, Alex suggested staying with a different member of the Sirens each week and Dan was hard pressed to dismiss the logic in her suggestion, though he was also loathe to put any of the women in danger, no matter how capable they seemed. While he missed home and longed for the company of the other Silverlords, a part of him enjoyed talking with Charlie, watching the girls perform their loud and exciting music, and learning all about his new surroundings.
The funniest incident that occurred during his entire stay happened when he stayed over at Linn and Jenny’s on their couch for the first time. Jenny walked by him and casually pushed a button on a small, slender, silver rod and the large, silver box sitting directly across from the couch came to life. Images almost as large as life, loud enough to wake the dead, and real enough to be frightening flashed across the box with alarming speed. Danthias freaked out, reacting purely on instinct, and leapt behind the couch, somehow aiming an arrow at the contraption and hitting it dead center as he did so. It was then he learned what a television was and felt very bad about killing Linn and Jenny’s. After buying them a new one with his respectable stash of Earth money, Dan actually learned to enjoy television a little. Particularly amusing to him were the Lord of the Rings movies, with their references to elves. Dan wondered many a night what Tolkein would have thought if he had known he was writing a little truer to life than what he had assumed.
Linn was able to use her magic to repair her lawn and Danthias found it amazing to watch her work her spells. With a single gesture, her hand began to glow a pale green and the grass all around her began to grow and stretch. Within moments, her home and grounds looked even better than they had before and the entire place was thriving. Danthias spent many nights meditating out under the great oak tree talking with the faeries that lived in the garden. One of them, a jade green male ball of glowing testosterone named Cayden somehow became Dan’s constant companion while he was there. The pixie apparently had the world’s hugest crush on Linn and had even managed to take on human sized form to seduce her one Midsummer night, much to Linn’s chagrin. The Fae woman treated all the creatures on her land, faerie, human, animal, or other, with the same kind of care and kindness that she cared for her sister, though perhaps not with as much enthusiasm, and Dan felt more at home at Linn’s house than anywhere else.
Danthias found it fascinating to learn more about the women while they searched to find him a way home. Alexandra, it turned out, was pyrokinetic and telekinetic, as well as having the ability to fly and withstand any amount of heat. While she also had some latent telepathic abilities, they paled in comparison to those of her half-sister. Sarah was easily the most powerful psionicist Dan had ever met and watching her work her telepathy, telekinesis, and empathy was truly a wonder. Linnelle had her Fae magic as well as some interesting abilities inherited through her blood. Angie was a thief par excellence, thanks to her ability to teleport and become intangible. Watching her phase through solid objects never failed to creep Dan out and she took great delight in teleporting immediately behind him and startling him at least twice a day when she could. The elf enjoyed the game and liked the pout she got on her face when she failed to surprise him even more.
Lyra, of all the women, turned out to be the most difficult to get to know. She was naturally quiet by nature and not very forthcoming. She almost never talked about her powers or showed them openly and flat out refused to be very detailed when it came to talking about her past. It left the woman as somewhat of a mystery but, nonetheless, she was polite to Dan and always eager to make sure that he was entertained or comfortable. So it was that a routine was established and the elf slowly became a part of the society he had fallen into.
One night, Dan and Jenny were hanging out at her and Linn’s place playing video games and drinking a strange beverage called Coke, which had become Dan’s new addiction. Surprisingly, he found that he was really good at video games and enjoyed them. They were right in the middle of a rousing round of Crash Bandicoot when the phone rang. Jennifer paused the game and bounded up to answer the infernal contraption. Next to cars, Danthias found he hated phones more than any other Earth invention. Noisy, bothersome things. The blonde was gone for maybe five minutes, talking animatedly on the phone, then she hung up and returned, a solemn look on her face.
“What’s up?” Dan asked.
“That was O’Brian,” Jenny said.
“How’s Landen?” the elf inquired.
“Still in critical condition,” Jenny replied, “He’s alive and seems to be stable but, beyond that, they really can’t say. He sustained some pretty serious injuries and he’s gonna be laid up for a while yet.”
“That sucks,” Dan said with real feeling. He had actually developed somewhat of a soft spot for the two policemen who were working so hard to help him.
“O’Brian’s gonna be busy helping Landen recover so he wants us to take over investigating the bombing and the attack at the hospital. So far, they don’t really have a lot of leads but I’m sure we’ll be able to crack this one, if we work hard enough.”
Danthias had to smile at Jenny’s wide-eyed optimism.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I have to stay here and keep plugging away at the few leads we have to get you home,” Jenny replied, “I’ve already talked to the rest of the Sirens and Lyra and Angie’ll be here to pick you up shortly. That Tobias Simms guy thinks he might have a few more clues for us to help bust the AFH so they want you to come with them when they go to talk to him.”
Dan nodded and wandered outside as Angie’s sleek, black camero pulled into Linn’s driveway. As much as he hated the infernal machines, he had to admit that the one Angela owned with its white racing stripe was very pretty. Waving a jaunty hello, he slid into the backseat, buckled himself in and schooled himself to be calm as the car pulled away from Linn’s house. As they drove away, Danthias just kept praying to himself that perhaps this would be the one lead that would take them straight to the heart of AFH, the one thing that they would need to put the monsters away forever. One could only hope.

Apparently Tobias Simms had been released from the hospital several days ago with a clean bill of health. He was recovering from the last of his injuries at home and had begun the slow but sure process needed to turn over a new leaf. When they arrived at his home and spoke with his parents, Angie, Dan, and Lyra were all suitably impressed with the progress the young man had made. The proud mother and father were only too happy to usher the three investigators into Toby’s room upstairs and they all could see how these positive changes had affected him. The young man instantly recognized Dan and took his hand at once, shaking it gently.
“I am so very sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused,” he said gently, “I hope you’re recovering well. Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”
Dan smiled and returned the young man’s hand shake with enthusiasm.
“Nothing to apologize for, Kid,” he said, “Just keep helping the police like you are and we’ll have no problems.”
Simms nodded and smiled, seeing the women behind Dan.
“And who might these lovely ladies be?”
Angie grinned, sly as a cat, and shook the teenager’s hand, fully willing to play upon his fragile young hormones if it meant he would cooperate. She was dressed in the typical uniform for the Sirens, black cotton pants, sensible black shoes, black cotton vest, and a very elegant, almost Renaissance poet style white shirt with ruffled collar and sleeves. Her hair was swept up nicely today and not only did the outfit make her look totally professional, it showed off every curve Angela had. Lyra offered a more conservative greeting but was dressed exactly the same, exchanging the pants for a modest, knee length black skirt and hose and the white shirt for an exact copy in the most vivid shade of blue/green teal that helped to bring out her eyes. They each introduced themselves in their own fashion and then, Angie fixed Simms with a very serious look.
“You told the police you had something else you wanted to share?” she said, “They’re a little understaffed right now so they’ve turned the case over to us and, if you’re willing to talk, we’ll be more than happy to make sure any leads you give us get followed up on.”
“Not a problem,” Simms replied eagerly, “The last day that I was at the AFH headquarters, they were talking about some wharehouse. He said there was something big going down there but he never said what exactly. Something about some big wig coming into town and big plans they had going on. I thought it might be worth checking out.”
“I agree,” Angie said, “Can you tell us where this wharehouse is?”
Lyra dutifully noted down the directions that Simms gave and, with many a thanks and hand shake all around, the three investigators departed the house. Glancing over at her companion, Angie faced Lyra solemnly.
“You think he’s lyin’?”
“I dinnae think so,” the Irish woman replied carefully, “Though he also did nae give us much t’go on.”
“Ain’t that always the way,” Dan muttered, “What’s our next step?”
“We find the wharehouse, do some preliminary snooping, figure out exactly what we’re up against and make plans from there,” Angie replied, “I just hope it’ll be enough.”
“You and me both,” Dan said softly.
No matter how hard he tried, he just could not shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly and inexplicably wrong. It would take most of the day to get to the place Simms had mentioned. It left an awful lot of room for things to take a turn for the worse and somewhere inside him, Danthias could hear the voice of his inner paranoia laughing at him, just waiting for him to take that last fatal step.

3.

The wharehouse appeared deserted from the outside. Night had already fallen and Dan peered at the dubious hideout with Angie, Lyra, and Alexandra, who had decided to join them. Dressed in the Sirens’ uniform with black pants and a midnight blue shirt exactly like the others that brought out her eyes, the Latina was sitting very quietly beside him and frowning at what they were seeing.
“Ah don’t like this,” she finally declared, “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
“You said it,” Angie muttered, “This screams set up t’me.”
“Honestly, must the two o’ye always believe the worst?!” Lyra demanded, exasperated.
“It’s why we’re both still alive,” Angie pointed out.
“Paranoia’s just another word for longevity,” Danthias agreed, quoting one of Al’s favorite phrases.
Lyra just threw up her hands and rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Alright, ye win, now can we please just see what’s in here?”
It didn’t take long for the four companions to ghost up to the side of the wharehouse and locate one of the lesser used entrances. The moon shone rather brightly, unobscured, and it made locating and picking the lock much easier. Danthias was about to offer his expertise but noticed how expertly Angie was handling the lock picks and simply left her to it. After several moments, the lock fell noiselessly into Angie’s gloved hands and she gently lifted the bolt. Carefully, weapons trained for maximum threat, they slid open the door and peered inside.
The smell hit them before anything else. Like something between an outhouse and a slaughterhouse, it filled their senses and left them reeling. Death was all around them and they could feel it. Wordlessly, Alexandra exerted her will and created a tiny fireball in the palm of her hand, then used her finite control to lift it into the air and send it dancing in front of her. The scene that it illuminated when it finally reached the shadowy interior was grim.
There were bodies everywhere.
Lyra gasped and turned pale, staring in mute horror at the carcasses that lay about. Luckily, each individual was mostly intact, but the smell was something that no one was liable to forget anytime soon. Some of the bullets that had killed these men had pierced intestines, vital organs, and the stink of the body’s last act on Earth rode high in the newly warm spring air like a stain.
Danthias knelt down by one of the bodies and, after putting on, with some difficulty, a pair of rubber gloves that Lyra wordlessly handed him, he began to examine the wounds very carefully. He still was not used to this new concept called forensics that these Earthers were so enamored of. He did not yet fully understand all the details about this odd art but he knew that the people of Earth swore by it the way people on his planet did the magic of a Diviner. The elf did his best to simply see what there was to see and stay out of the way as much as possible. Alex knelt at his side, gloves on hand as well, and they wordlessly poured over what evidence there was of how the men had died. One by one they went over the grisly details, until they had searched all twelve men thoroughly and returned to the original cadaver they’d been examining.
“These wounds are really precise,” Dan said thoughtfully, “Not more than one or two shots per kill. Whoever did this was a crack shot.”
“Most of them died instantly,” Alex agreed, nodding, her voice drifting into a deadpan, no accented speech, “All but one or two were one shot, one kill. Seems like the work of a trained professional if you ask me.”
“Any ideas?” Dan inquired.
“A few,” Alex replied, “None I can share ‘til I’m sure.”
Danthias stared at her quizzically, not liking the haunted, closed off look that came over her face but, before he could say anything, Lyra and Angie wandered back over to where they were squatting.
“The police’re on their way,” Angie said, “and we found absolutely no i.d. at all on any of the victims.”
“I think they might all be AFH, though,” Lyra said, “Looks like somebody busted up a meetin’.”
Danthias began to carefully examine the bodies, looking for clues as to what might have killed them. Making sure that he was wearing the gloves that everyone else seemed to be so fond of, the elf had finished searching the area around the bodies and was starting to check through pockets when he came across something interesting. Deep down inside the pocket of a young man who could not have been more than twenty, Dan found a small, crumpled piece of paper. Unfurling it as quickly as he could, the elf gasped at what he read.
“Guys!” he called, “Jackpot!”
Al, Lyra, and Angie wandered over to where the elf sat and their eyes opened wide at what they read. Apparently the meeting inside this building was not the only one to be taking place that night.
“Looks like we go visit another wharehouse,” Angie said.
Everyone cheered with the exception of Al. Alexandra just stood there, face pursed in thought, and though Dan longed to ask what she was pondering, he knew better than to pry. She looked spooked and the elf knew that a woman haunted by something that frightened her that badly was best left to reveal things on her own. Whatever she had seen had bothered her and she would reveal it or she wouldn’t, in her own time.
Angie pulled out one of those little things that people in this world were so fond of, a cell phone he thought they were called, and spoke into it briefly. Dan thought the name was ridiculous, as a prison room had nothing to do with communication, but he had to admit, noisy and annoying as they were, the items were nearly as useful as the gems people used back home for roughly the same purpose. When Angie was done, she quickly went over every inch of the wharehouse, removing evidence of their presence and replaced the lock the way it had been when they’d arrived.
“If we wanna get in on any o’ this, we’d better move fast,” she said, “This place’s gonna be hoppin’ in a minute.”
Wordlessly, everyone hightailed it back to Angie’s car and sped away just in time to hear sirens down the street. It seemed no one had seen them and everyone visibly relaxed as they headed west as fast as they could without attracting attention. Turning a corner into a dark, wide alley, Angie pulled up behind a rather large, nondescript black van.
Danthias was a little confused but the women immediately exited the car and jogged over to the van as if it were expected. Not wanting to be left behind, Dan followed, curiosity peaked. The sliding door to the van opened to reveal Jenny Cassidy’s smiling face.
“Hey guys,” she beamed, “Right on time!”
The women filed in quickly and Jenny spared Dan one of her cute little smiles as she shut the door behind him.
“Strap in and hold on tight,” she said, smiling, “This’s gonna be interesting.”
Danthias loathed the idea of riding in a vehicle once again but had to admit that the inside of this one was more intriguing than any he had yet seen. A good majority of the wall of the van immediately opposite the sliding door was occupied by a large panel of monitors, screens, and keyboards, not entirely unlike the set up in Jenny’s room. The screens showed images on all sides of the van, as well as what appeared to be the view directly in front of each of the women, coming from little devices that the girls each strapped onto their lapels before finding their seats.
Alexandra took hers wordlessly and moved swiftly towards the front of the van, which Danthias could see through a little doorway of sorts. Linn appeared to be driving and Alex strapped herself without a word into the passenger seat opposite her. Dan felt a bit abandoned and unhappy but stuffed it down as he attempted to strap on his own little device, which Jenny wordlessly handed to him before taking her own seat. The chair was a curious little black contraption that was bolted into the floor and moved and swiveled on a small track embedded into the floorboards. Once she was strapped into that seat, Jenny had almost total mobility to move about and putter with all the monitors, speakers, and keyboards that were mounted in front of her. It was a pretty sweet little set up and Danthias found himself gawking a moment before a slight frown from Linn, caught in her rearview mirror, reminded him to find his own seat.
The elf moved gracefully towards the back of the van, where he noticed two small bench like seats that were clearly meant to seat three apiece were strapped to the side walls of the van. Lyra and Angie had strapped themselves onto the ones located on the driver’s side and Dan took the seat on their side that was left, the one closest to the back of the van. In addition to hollowing out the interior to make room for the monitoring station and redoing the cargo hold for people, the girls had apparently installed racks to hold various equipment and weapons in the back near the rear door. He could see backpacks, a gun rack, and a small chest that looked like a bench with no seat belts but probably contained more of those kevlar vests Dan had seen the girls wear earlier. There were also small lockers of sorts that seemed to contain compasses, flashlights, batteries, ammo, and other things but the elf was too busy taking his seat and strapping himself in to take in every single detail.
When he was finally strapped in and as calm as could be, the van finally lurched into motion and the elf turned to Angie, who was seated right next to him, and began to speak in low tones. He wanted to ask about Alex and what was bothering her almost more than anything else but he thought it would be more prudent to wait until he could confront her himself, alone.
“This’s a pretty sweet set up, ladies, how’d you come up with it?” he asked.
“Jenny came up with the design,” Angie said, “Charlie used her blue prints to put it together. She really is a little genius. I swear she can make anything.”
Danthias answered her toothy grin with one of his own. From what he’d learned of Jenny, that was a rather accurate assessment. Then, moving on, he decided to ask about something that had been bothering him.
“I noticed Jenny had a really nasty scar earlier, on the left side of her collarbone. I didn’t want to embarrass her by asking but it looks pretty vicious and I was wondering what happened.”
Angie got very quiet for a moment, then finally spoke up.
“It happened before I joined up with the group, back when they were first starting out,” she said, “Apparently, they were tracking a really scary vampire and he managed to find out where Jenny was. She was working inside this van, doing security monitoring, the way she always does, and this vamp ripped the door off its hinges, dragged her outside and bit her. It took Linn, Al, and Sarah to take him down. Linn tagged him but not before he nearly ripped Jen’s throat out with his teeth. That’s why we don’t leave her alone while she’s monitoring anymore. One of us is in here with her at all times. She’s got a brilliant mind but she’s got nothin’ when it comes t’combat skills an’ some o’ the things we go after don’t always stop for bullets.”
Having dealt with vampires on his own world, Dan could only imagine how nasty that must’ve been and nodded thoughtfully. He really wanted to ask more about AFH as well but he knew that they were obviously dealing with a time table and he could always ask more questions later. They really didn’t like lycanthropes and that was all that Dan felt he needed to know at the moment, not to mention that they were very dangerous. The elf carefully wiped down his bow and began selecting the various gems and arrows he thought he would need. The girls really didn’t like him using a weapon that stood out so much but, even though he was a dead shot with anything that had a bullet, a dart, or an arrow, he hated guns and crossbows with a passion and would have absolutely nothing to do with them. He also disdained using the heavy kevlar the girls favored so much. It slowed down his movements to nothing and the vests really only worked on bullets. The girls had even admitted that they would never hold up to a good blade and Dan trusted his chain mail more on that account. The armor he wore was more discreet and would stop damn near anything. Besides, he couldn’t count on all the bad guys to be gun bunnies like the Sirens seemed to be. Blades didn’t need reloading, after all.
The van pulled to a stop right outside of a seedy wharehouse that looked even more questionable than the last one they’d been in and Dan readied himself for combat, as the girls got up, suited up in their kevlar, loaded their weapons, and packed their permits, ammo, and private investigator licenses.
At first, the girls looked at Dan incredulously, especially when he again refused kevlar, and tried to talk him out of coming with them. Alex, seeing the set of the elf’s jaw and the look on Danthias’s face, shook her head and addressed her friends.
“Don’t bother, mes amies, he’s comin’ whether we like it or not.”
The tone of her voice was one somewhere between cynical amusement and resignation. Dan would have given her a worried look, but the side and back doors slid open and the women began filing out, all but Linnelle, who remained to back Jenny up if she needed it.
“Alright everyone, quick sound check,” Jenny said, her voice coming out loud and clear in Danthias’s ear as if she had been standing right next to him. It still was amazing to Danthias that the little nearly invisible device attached to his collar could transmit sound and images to Jenny’s little computers but he stuffed down his awe and concentrated on the task at hand.
“Argent, here,” he said, using the nickname Al had given him as a codename, “All clear.” The elf thought the nicknames and codenames were a bit silly but the women had insisted, claiming that if they were monitored they wanted no one to know who they actually were. It made Dan feel like an undercover operative but he remained quiet.
“Six, here, online and ready t’go,” came Lyra’s breathless voice.
“Black Cat, ready to prowl,” chimed in Angie and Dan couldn’t help but smile at the stifled groan of annoyance he was sure was coming from Linn in the van.
“Banshee, all eyes an’ ears ready,” she merely muttered, her brogue thick with annoyance.
“Blademaker, signing on,” Jenny said, “You guys are all patched in and ready to go. Nightingale and Dragonwing’ll be ready to show up, if we need them.” While Sarah and Marissa had been given the task of assisting O’Brian at the other wharehouse, Dan had no doubt they would be there if needed.
“Alright, Wildfire, here,” Alex called, snapping ammo into her twin guns, Éclaire and Tonnerre, Lightning and Thunder, “In position. It’s showtime, girls.”
She moved ahead of the crowd, like a small, sleek shadow and Danthias had to admire her skill. Even with all of his training, it was still hard not to lose sight of her in the darkening night. Pulse pounding with adrenaline and excitement mounting, Dan moved forward, falling in behind Al, and waited for whatever was behind the wharehouse door to show itself.
The door to the wharehouse slowly creaked open. Alex had tried to find a door that was not as obvious as the front but each and every door they had looked at was about as abandoned and neglected looking. The locks came off easily enough and Alex reached back to hand Dan a spare pair of night vision goggles but Danthias shooed them away. His sight, even in the dark, was better than a human’s in broad daylight. He slipped through the door behind Al and fell into step several paces behind her, maintaining the distance as easily as breathing, and moved like an echo of the woman’s steps. He was keeping up with no words needed.
Through the odd green lighting of her goggles, Alex could see that the wharehouse was one of those tall ones with a nearly cathedral like ceiling. On and on it stretched, some fifty feet, as if it were trying to touch the sky. Alexandra was wondering how many people AFH had to have in the local area to need such a big place. She knew they were a national organization but the sheer largeness of the place they were in astounded her. Right now, though, with all the lights out and only shadows and street lights for illumination, it seemed pretty unrealistic.
“That’s odd,” Al murmured, almost silently, “This place should be packed this close t’the meeting time. Where is everybody?”
“Not sure,” Dan said, “but I really don’t like this.”
“I’m not seeing any movement,” Jenny said, her voice barely distorted at all from the headphones, “If the blueprints I got are correct, the main meeting hall should be dead ahead.”
Angie and Lyra moved up slowly behind Dan and the three of them moved as one to help flank Alex as she inched cautiously towards the large double doors that Jenny had indicated. Not a breath of air seemed to stir as Al easily and noiselessly pulled open the left hand door, pausing to check if the coast was clear before turning to her companions.
“Ah think we just beat the rush,” Alex said confidently, “Ah say we set up shop an’ listen in on their little meeting.”
Slowly entering the room, Alexandra motioned for Dan and the others to follow. The miniscule bit of light that was shining through the open door from the street lamps outside was nowhere near enough to illuminate more than a small sliver of the cavernous room’s interior. Inch by inch, the companions crept into the room. Angie was last to go through. Just as her feet crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her.
Danthias didn’t need to be a lycan to smell the small spike of fear and adrenaline that shot through the room as total darkness spilled over the group. The elf’s sharp eyes could still just barely make out movement among the shadows and he tensed, hearing the shuffle of many feet that he was certain was completely silent to the ears of his more human companions. Before he could properly take note of sounds and try to reason out how many opponents there were by the sound of their shuffling feet, the lights in the room all snapped on just as suddenly as they had been extinguished.
Dan heard several angry hisses as the world exploded into light, bright as the sun after the dim twilight of the previous moment. Alexandra and her companions quickly removed their night vision goggles, wincing, and readied themselves for whatever lay ahead.
There was no preamble, no warning. One moment, brightness exploding, the next, there were bullets erupting everywhere.
Danthias and the Sirens hit the floor as bursts and halos of thunderous sound erupted above their heads. Dan's preternatural speed gave him the advantage in recovery time and he was on his feet and moving in a blur of motion, however, the girls were almost as fast as he was. Alexandra launched herself into the air, using her gifts to fly onto a narrow catwalk overhead. Her guns were out and flashing before she even landed. Éclaire et Tonnere screamed once, twice, vibrant points of light and sound, bullets ripping toward their intended target. One of the shooters, a man from the sound of it and dressed in black with a black mask covering his face, howled momentarily in pain, clutching his wrist as his gun tumbled from his grasp. The second bullet caught him in the shoulder and he spun slightly, his right arm now hanging useless at his side. The gunman dodged artfully behind his armed comrades, nursing his injuries and using his allies as cover. Alexandra mentally hissed in annoyance but at least he wasn't shooting anymore and, perhaps, if he survived, he could be made to answer questions. Jenny was calling frantically from over the wireless connection but Alex had no time to respond. Crouching down so as to make as small of a target out of herself as possible, the southern belle quickly slinked along the edges of the catwalk, carefully bringing herself in line for another shot.
Angela grinned the moment the action began. Using her teleportation abilities, Angie flashed herself up onto the catwalk where the AFH flunkies were gathered. The catwalk ran on all sides of the building and Angie thought she caught a glimpse of Alex kneeling down somewhere on the other side of the building. When one of the men dropped his weapon and cursed, Angie grinned in confirmation. Now it was time to even the odds a little and as the notorious catburglar, the Black Cat, there had been no one who had ever managed to catch her. Confident that no one had seen her teleport up to them, Angie's hands flashed into motion. Suddenly, a knife appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and just as quickly it was flying through the air. It streaked from Angie's outstretched hand with deadly accuracy and buried itself into the gun hand of one of the thugs who was attempting to reload his weapon.
The man grabbed his hand and dropped his weapon in shock but Angie gave him no time to recover. Flashing over to him, she ripped the knife from his hand violently and spun around in a dizzying arch, delivering a sound kick to the side of the man's head. The thug grunted and staggered, trying to remain upright, but the force of the blow carried him sideways, pellmell, over the edge of the catwalk. He was too surprised to even make a sound as he fell. Angela spun around, recovered knife in hand and slashed viciously at the man who stepped up to point his gun at her. The hood reached out for her but Angela's entire body became suddenly as intangible and hard to grasp as the air itself and the former thief dodged nimbly out of his way, nearly laughing at him in her glee. Taking a quick glance to ascertain their odds, the young woman was not pleased by what she saw.
"Guys, we got about twenty goons up here," she said, swiftly countering an opponent's bullet with a dodge and a knee to the groin, "They're all armed and it looks like they came packin' some major heat. Be careful out there!"
With the confusion and all the noise, Angie wasn't sure if they had heard her or not, but as the man she'd kneed staggered and cupped himself, she could only hope that she had gotten through. Flashing out of the way of another barrage of bullets, Angela quickly became absorbed with simply trying to survive this fight.
Danthias heard Angie's shouted warning loud and clear over the din, as he quickly ducked out of the way of an immense spray of gunfire and readied an arrow. He wasn't sure if the others had heard what they were up against or not but Dan had and he could smell the silver casings on the bullets that had embedded themselves into the wall not far from where he had been standing. This was bad. Lyra, moving as quickly as her legs would allow, had dived behind a mound of boxes and was using them for cover as she attempted to pick off the snipers. The elf wasn't certain just how good of a shot she was and the redhead didn't look like much of a combatant. If someone didn't end this soon, it was going to get really ugly, really fast.
Drawing back his bow from the cover of another of the many mounds of boxes and crates, Danthias aimed an arrow dead center of one of the thugs' bodies. A whisper quiet zipping sound and the arrow had found its target. The man's gun tumbled from his hand, as he clutched the arrow embedded almost completely through his chest. He gasped as blood began to well up and staggered once before finally collapsing to the ground. He did not get up again.
"That's one," Dan thought, another arrow primed, "Time to clean house."
Alexandra saw the black arrows fly through the darkness and one of the goons dropped just as he was reaching for a huge automatic rifle. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion the shot had caused, Alex positioned herself at the corner of the catwalk and, using the edge for cover, squeezed off several shots into the mass of hoodlums. One man dropped to his knees, a bullet having torn through his ankle, and another caught a bullet just in glancing on his side. Alex had little time to congratulate herself, however. A shot exploded not two inches from where her head was and the Latina quickly jerked back behind a large stack of crates, ducking to where she had at least some cover from the deadly barrage. She heard at least two more bullets whiz by where she had just been and quickly readied her guns to meet her attacker. She was not quite fast enough, however.
He came for her in a barrage of motion that was both swift and decisive. A hail of bullets exploded around Alex's body like a deadly halo and, suddenly, his fists were flying at her face. Alex was able to avoid the first punch, just barely, with a quick jerk of her head but the next one, aimed at her collarbone, caught her hard in the left shoulder. Al gasped, clenching her fist tightly to keep from dropping her gun, and tried hard to ignore the sharp starburst of pain from her shoulder. A vicious roundhouse came out of nowhere and Alex had no time to defend, as it connected with her jaw. The sheer force of it jerked her head back and toppled her to the ground, head reeling. Alex slammed into the ground with a bone jarring impact and Éclaire et Tonnere flew wildly from her hands, despite her frantic attempts to keep hold of them. She pushed herself up onto her knees and shook her head, desperately trying to clear her mind to regain control of the fight. Alexandra glanced up just in time to see the fist heading straight for her.
Reactions engrained bone deep simply took over. Grabbing the man's fist before his momentum could slow, Alexandra twisted her body and planted her feet solidly in the man's stomach, doubling him over. The man attempted to punch Alex in the face, as he lost his balance, but the woman snagged that fist out of midair too and continued into a textbook tomoe nage throw. She released the man's hands at the last instant and he flew as swiftly as one of Dan's arrows, crashing into the brick wall behind them. The man's head connected first and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
Alex tucked her head and somersaulted onto her feet and glanced over to locate her guns. Shots exploded into the silence and Alexandra felt several bullets rip past her and slam into the wall inches from her head. She tucked and rolled, snatching her weapons from where they lay, and came up into a defensive crouch, her back against several large crates for cover. Her guns were cocked almost as soon as she touched them and she took in a deep breath, as she peered carefully between the cracks of the crates.
The gunman stood twenty feet away, a long barreled rifle loaded, cocked, and aimed expertly in front of him. He was all in black like the other thugs and appeared no different than any of them on the outside but the manner in which he held himself, held his weapon, marked him as especially dangerous. Nothing escaped his gaze and he swept the barrel before him in a professional, no nonsense arc. Alex grinned. A challenge at last!
Moving with speed born of practice honed on deadly streets and back alleys, Alex leapt to the top of the crates above her, using a small telekinetic push to help her momentum and cushion her landing. She touched down as silent as a cat and crouched low, slinking and inching her way to the edge of the crate's top, her head peeking over just enough to catch sight of her prey. With silent, practiced ease, Alex clicked back the hammer on her gun and waited ever so patiently.
It wasn't long before the assassin was moving through the boxes, gliding forward on feet just as noiseless as Alex's own. He moved like a shadow, all subtle, deadly grace, and peered cautiously around the corner where he was expecting the Latina to be. Alex paused until he had committed himself fully to the movement, then leapt into the air like a graceful bird. Somersaulting end over end in midair, the woman landed solidly behind the black clad assassin, her body instinctively lowering into a kneeling position. The assassin whirled to meet the noise behind him but Alex was not where he expected her to be.
Shots rang out, one, two, then three. The silent aftermath was almost more deafening than the roar of the guns and, for a moment, there was no movement, no sound. Then, Alex slowly stood and crept soundlessly to the unmoving form on the floor. The man lay facing Alex, arms splayed out above him. Both of Alex's shots had connected, one through the heart and one dead center in his third eye. He was still and blood was still running from his wounds. Enough of it had pooled around the man that, even without the gaping hole in his forehead and sightless stare, Alex knew from sheer common sense that there would be no getting up for this man ever again. Glancing briefly behind her, Alex glimpsed the other body sprawled against the far wall. That one had been good too. The stray bullet that had flown from the assassin's gun had lodged soundly in his throat, penetrating all the way through and instantly rupturing his jugular. Alexandra said a silent prayer of thanks that her training had made her fast enough to dodge both the assassin's bullet and this gentleman's unluckily timed ambush attempt.
There were no further targets in sight so Alex quickly gathered her wits about her and moved towards the sounds of combat elsewhere in the wharehouse. So far she had escaped with just a few bruises but who knew if her friends were having the same kind of luck. Images of Dan, Angie, and Lyra lying as still and stiff as the men behind her spurred the woman into motion and she fought back the ghosts threatening to haunt her as she moved forward, all the while praying she was only projecting.
Angie heard the gunshots from the other side of the catwalk and fought down the panic that rose in her brain, wondering which one of her friends was being shot at or possibly killed. Concerned or not, however, she was in the middle of too much heat right now to even contemplate helping out elsewhere. The man she had kneed had recovered his weapon and he had about four friends with him, all of them aiming weapons right at her. The catburgler lost count of how many times she had narrowly avoided bullets by going intangible and how many vicious fates she had avoided with her quick teleportation. Sweat gleamed off her brow and she fought to concentrate as the prolonged adrenaline rush, fatigue, and the strain of the near constant use of her gifts in this encounter began to take its toll.
Her vision was not quite what it should be, blurry with sweat and exhaustion, but she still managed, somehow, to get her arm up just in time to block a brutal kick that would have knocked her flat on her ass. She could feel the muscles in her arm go numb just from the impact of the kick and didn't want to imagine what it would have felt like connecting with her ribs. Apparently, this goon wasn't happy about being racked and he actually had some talent, despite being temporarily out of bullets.
"Give it up, freak!" he yelled, the voice sounding even colder through his mask, "Sooner or later, we won't miss."
"Bitch, please!" Angie scoffed, "Y'all can't hit the broad side of a bright red barn!"
Her fist flew fast and true, blasting dead into the man's right cheek. Angie felt his head snap to the side and heard the breath leave his body in a startled oomph. She felt and heard sensitive bones cracking and tried not to grin in triumph. This was one man who'd be needing some serious corrective surgery. Not letting up, she followed up with a lashing knee to the stomach and a solid backhanded fist. The man went down in an ungraceful heap but, to Angie's surprise, pulled himself up almost immediately. The thug reeled as Angela danced and bounced out of the way of his pathetic attempts to retort. While he might be skilled and tenacious, he was wobbling far too much to put up an effective defense, let alone any kind of counterattack. Angie worked quickly, trying to conserve what strength she had and taking advantage of the man's weakness. A quickly delivered spinning kick to his knees sent him sprawling and Angie quickly followed it with an elbow that rocked his head right into the concrete. The man bounced once, just slightly, then didn't move.
Angie had no time to prepare or celebrate. Gunshots blossomed around her like angry, screaming demons and she snapped away, teleporting with the speed of thought out of the line of fire.
"That was close," she thought, glancing at the torn edge of fabric at her shoulder where a bullet had torn through it a split second before her escape.
Not wasting any time, Angie took a few deep breaths. Her stamina was rapidly fading and it would not be long before she would be unable to manage such miraculous evasions. Brandishing her knife, she quickly blinked over to where the men were gathered, searching for her frantically. Fleet as lightning, Angela's knife slashed out of nowhere, catching one of the men at the wrist and forcing him to drop his gun. Moving before he could think to physically attack her, Angie's hand flashed and a small, metal baton was suddenly in her hands. Two quick snaps of her wrist and the baton was fully extended to about two feet long and headed straight for the man's head. A split second before impact, Angie flicked a button on the handle and small sparks arced from the tip of the baton. The young man had no time to react, deflect, or dodge. His eyes simply widened in dawning horror, as Angie clocked him square in the temple. The thug jerked perhaps four or five times in rapid succession, then collapsed at Angie's feet.
The remaining three men turned at the sudden noise but Angela was already among them before they could even see what had become of their friend. Working frantically, Angie swung hard right into the thick of the men, hoping to down them before her failing energy completely gave out. One of the men was not quick enough to get out of the way of her initial barrage and caught her stun baton right in the stomach. The air rushed out of him in a great whoosh of pain and he simply dropped, like a puppet with the strings cut. The other two thugs, however, were more saavy and much faster than their friend.
Hopping ungracefully out of the way, both men raised their weapons and aimed dead center. Two shots rang out, loud as thunder, and the teleporter gasped, as she felt blood running down either side of her hips. Sudden pain bloomed all along her ribs and hips and Angie staggered drunkenly, nearly dropping to the floor that instant. She could almost feel the quiet triumph from the thugs in front of her and glanced up to see that they were pulling their triggers again.
Angie was already going intangible before she had even consciously thought of it and moving forward as the shots echoed everywhere. The two men stared at her with utter shock and surprise, as she suddenly phased back into full reality. The baton flew three times in rapid succession, striking kidneys, throats, and stomachs. Both thugs gasped, coughed once or twice, then dropped to the floor in a near boneless collapse. Angie stood for a moment, reeling. Her head was woozy and she felt surreal, almost not there. She put a hand to her temples and moaned. The wharehouse was spinning and everything was just suddenly out of focus, like some kind of dirty lens. Then, she was falling, though she didn't really register that it was happening. It was as if she were watching it happen to someone else in slow motion. Angie's body fell in an almost graceful collapse. Like a comet or shooting star, she came to earth. By that time, she felt nothing, a mere floating, and welcomed the calming blackness.
Lyra raced behind a corner and hunkered down as shots sang out everywhere. She cursed vehemently as several bullets embedded themselves in the wall directly behind where her head had been a moment before. It took a lot of Lyra's stamina to harness the air currents around her to speed up her retreat and redirect the bullets but it bought the redhead a few moments to regain her strength before facing her opponents. Lyra could see the two men on the other side of the room. It was a large area but the young woman knew it was only a matter of time before the two thugs got impatient and started gunning for her in earnest. Checking her gun to see how many bullets she had left, Lyra closed her eyes and concentrated. While it was very bright in the wharehouse, the thugs hadn't eradicated every shadow, despite their best attempts to leave nowhere for their enemies to hide. Carefully, as if she were weaving a blanket, Lyra began to pull, tug, and warp the shadows around her with her mind. She pictured herself as completely invisible and felt the darkness at the edges of the room subtly shift and respond to make her mental reality into physical fact.
When she opened her eyes, Lyra could feel the shadows around her, clinging like an old, comfortable coat or second skin. Crouched down as she was, it was as if she were simply a part of the crate behind which she hid, just part of the natural darkness created by the absence of light. She could easily see out of the illusion she had created but knew that it would be nigh impossible for the men with guns to be able to see through it with their limited vision. Lyra could hear the men approaching and her heart sped up a little. Their steps were almost silent and it was only through the virtue of her Fae blood that Lyra was even able to hear them. She saw the gun barrels before she saw the men. They were carrying fully automatic weapons, assault rifles.
Lyra waited until she had a clear line of sight for both men, then took aim and pulled the trigger.
One of the men dropped instantly. He fell face first onto the floor and didn't move. His companion barely had time to register his friend's collapse or the neat bullet hole in the back of the fallen man's head. Lyra squeezed the trigger again. Just as the man was glancing down at his comrade's prone form, her bullet caught him in the shoulder, whirling him halfway around, and he cried out in pain. The redhead moved swiftly, before he could recover, and aimed her last bullet in the general vicinity of his chest.
The goon was now more aware of her presence, however, and Lyra was forced to rush her shot, trying to catch him before he reacted. The bullet went wide, shrieking off into the distance and the man started to raise his weapon, just as the shadow that was Lyra moved. With a quick gesture born of desperation, the woman threw out one of her hands and gathered all the air currents around her, whipping them into a dense, lightning fast force. The air slammed head on into the thug, just as he had the muzzle of his gun halfway raised and he flew back, propelled as if shot from the rear of a jet's exhaust. There was a sickening crunch of impact, as his head collided with the wall hard enough to recoil, then he simply plummeted to the ground and didn't move. Lyra released the shadows and whipped her head around quickly, looking for more goons. By her count, she knew there should be more and she was out of bullets.
Not wanting to make herself any more of a target than she already was, the redhead moved swiftly towards the wall, hugging it and the dubious protection the corners seemed to provide. Ever so carefully, Lyra began making her way forward, inspecting every nook and cranny that she could. There was still gunfire echoing throughout the wharehouse and her friends were unaccounted for.
Rounding another group of boxes, Lyra suddenly collided with a very solid form. She nearly screamed, until she glanced up and noticed that the form was Dan. He didn't bother glancing behind him to confirm her identity. He seemed to already know who and where she was, as his silver eyes scanned endlessly for targets.
"Stay low and back me up," the elf said, readying an arrow.
Danthias didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, three arrows flew from his bow and embedded themselves directly into the chests of three goons who came rushing out of the distance, guns blaring. There was a moment of horrendous noise and Lyra began to form an air shield around herself and Dan to protect them from the bullets but the noise was gone almost as soon as it had begun. Though she could hear the bullets flying, they landed nowhere near her or Dan. The men who'd fired the shots all collapsed on the spot, all pierced through the heart.
The elf moved like lightning. In a burst of speed that no human could ever hope to imitate, Dan was just suddenly halfway across the room and already taking aim at two more men who were moving forward to avenge their fallen comrades. Lyra was thanking the Higher Powers for her mutant abilities, as she used her air manipulation to flash to Dan's side. She doubted she would ever have been able to keep up with the elf otherwise. Danthias had two arrows pulled back to his cheek already and the sound of the bow's release occurred just as Lyra came up beside him. The arrows flew true and struck their targets hard. Both men were on the ground before they even realized they were dead. Lyra looked on stunned, as Dan nonchalantly retrieved his arrows and moved quickly towards the steps that lead to the catwalk. The elf had made it all look way too easy. Moving quickly before she could be left behind, Lyra followed the lycan upstairs.
Dan reached the top of the stairs and nearly ran into Alex who was heading in the opposite direction. Her face was a tight tapestry of anxiety and excitement.
"We gotta find Angie," she said, "We got a lot o' wounded that're startin' t'come to an' Ah haven't seen hide nor hair o'her."
"Let's go," Danthias replied gently and, just like that, they were off.
As they hurried across the catwalk, Dan carefully scanned the area for enemies.
"How many are left?" he asked.
"Eight, Ah think," Al replied, "I can only confirm four though."
The elf nodded, as if in thought, and rounded a corner with Alex and Lyra following him.
Shots rang out, clanging all around, as Dan, Lyra, and Al all tried to duck for cover. The elf immediately readied his bow and was around the corner as the women were loading their ammo. Two shots fired in quick rapid succession, creating a melody with the twanging of the bow's release, then there was silence.
Danthias was like a bolt of silent lightning, moving towards the location of the shots. Alex and Lyra followed as best they could, stunned and amazed at the man's amazing, fluid movements. He ghosted to his destination and paused, his body suddenly tense. Al reached his side first and was about to ask what was wrong. The look on Dan's face was rather frightening but, as Alex glanced around, she saw the reason for the grimace and cried out.
Angie lay sprawled in a heap amongst the bodies of five very dead men, four of which appeared to have recently sprouted Dan's arrows. Alex bolted to Angela's side without a moment's hesitation, all caution forgotten in her worry for her friend. Danthias practically snarled in agitation at her lack of forethought but took a quick survey to make sure the area was safe before he allowed himself and Lyra to join Al at Angie's side. The dark skinned woman was unmoving and limp and there was a jagged tear in her catsuit on the left hip. Angie looked, for all the world, like a plastic doll, as if someone had simply cut her strings and let her fall.
Alexandra held her friend tenderly and spoke softly and urgently to her in Spanish, rocking her gently back and forth all the while. Alex's eyes were glazed over with unshed tears and Dan could feel her panic rising, assuming the worst, but Dan knelt down and firmly but gently pulled Angela from Alex's arms and laid her back down flat on the cold floor. Danthias found Angie's pulse almost immediately. It was steady but fading fast. Carefully he examined the wound, hissing at what he saw. The bullet had gone all the way through, luckily, but the blood was moving sluggishly from the wound and it was very close to her kidneys.
"She's alive but we need to get her to a hospital now," Dan said, scooping Angie gently up in his arms, "Knock out and gather up whoever's left if you want someone to question but do it fast. We need to get her out of here before she goes into shock and she doesn't have much time left."
"Right," Al said, her face going grim with purpose.
Jerking her head for Lyra to follow, Alex lead the redhead over to where she had fought her share of the thugs. The man she had knocked out with her hand to hand techniques still lay sprawled near the dead gunmen but she could still hear rustling. At least one more gunman was out there, waiting for them. Readying her weapons, Al approached the area slowly. As she and Lyra inched forward, Alex looked down and happened to notice the man she'd shot in the side laying unmoving on the floor, his eyes fixed in a permanent, glossy stare. Al winced a bit, her conscience not liking the thought of having left a man to die slowly from blood loss, but she said a quick prayer of apology and moved on, knowing there was nothing she could do.
Shots rang out on both sides and Alex and Lyra both turned as one and pulled their triggers. Two men, both of whom Alex recognized as men she'd faced earlier, suddenly collapsed to the floor in front of her and Lyra. They didn't move again. Not wasting any more time, Alex quickly hurried over to the unconscious thug that remained and grabbed hold of his collar. When Lyra saw what she was up to, she rushed to aid her friend.
Alexandra was just about to ask Lyra to help her carry him when the man's eyes suddenly snapped open. The outright disgust, shock, and hatred in his eyes blazed forth and stunned Alex for a moment, then he spoke weakly, his voice grim and angry.
"He's coming for you, freak," he whispered, "He's coming for you all!
Al's mouth fell open in surprise and, as she glanced down to demand to know what he was talking about, the man's head lolled to the side and she saw them plain as day. There were two perfect puncture marks at the side of the man's neck.
Cursing in French and with much feeling, Alex readjusted the man's weight, just as Lyra looked over at her questioningly.
"It's nothin'," Al said, accent thick with irritation, "This sucker's heavy. Let's jus' get outta here."
Alex and Lyra redoubled their efforts, pulling and dragging the thug between them. They met Dan near the doorway, where the lycan waited with Angie in his arms. He was dancing on his toes in impatience and kicked the door open for them as soon as he saw that the women were behind him. They wasted no time. Feet pounding hard on the pavement, they raced to where Linn and Jenny waited with their transport.
The blonde threw the door open, eyes wide with concern and fear, as soon as Dan and the girls were close. She gave a little gasp when she saw Angie's condition but, thankfully, didn't waste time or lose her cool. She simply helped Al and Lyra strap in and restrain their prisoner and quickly rearranged seating as best she could so that everyone could strap in and Angie could still be laid out flat. Jenny produced a nice warm blanket to help stave off Angela's shock and helped settle her in Dan's lap before rushing up front.
"Linn, hospital, stat! Angie's hurt!" she cried.
The van was lurching into motion before Jennifer had even had time to scramble into her seat and strap herself in. Danthias was no expert on the laws here, especially not ones governing traffic or how the Gnomish death machines were to be run, but he was pretty sure Linnelle was breaking quite a few of them on her way to the hospital. The whole time everyone in the back remained eerily quiet, everyone in their own way praying for Angie to be safe, while Jenny activated the intercom and softly filled in Marissa and Sarah on everything that had happened.
The whole time, Dan simply held Angie's head in his lap, willing his friend to live, to be alright. He could feel her pulse slowing and her body beginning to go cold with shock and numbness. As much as he wanted to rip apart the remaining thug for what he had done to his friend, he forced himself calm and focused on their journey. Lyra he knew was having the same dilhemma, especially sitting not three feet away from him but her face was a mask of calm and focus, as if she were willing Angie to survive by sheer force of will.
The van wheeled around a corner at frighteningly high speed. Dan gripped the edge of his seat with one hand and Angie with the other, gritting his teeth. Gods how he hated these death machines! Just as he was about to let loose a string of Dwarven curses fit to make his friend, Kern, blush, there was a horrid screeching, as the van attempted to stop.
The sound was unimaginable. Danthias had never experienced anything like a car crash before and had nothing to compare it to so, to him, it was a nightmare straight out of Hell. The bone jarring crunch of metal meeting metal, the high pitched screams of panic, fear, and shock from the women, the crunch of broken glass, then the world went end over end too quickly for Danthias to even count how many times they might have flipped before they settled with heart stopping, silent finality. The elf shook himself back to full awareness moments later and immediately began to struggle against his bonds. The van had landed upside down and Dan could see where Angie had tumbled from his arms and lay sprawled beneath him. There was no movement from Jenny, Lyra, or the AFH goon but he could hear Linn groaning from the cab and there was absolutely no sound from Al. Dan was frantic to get loose but his head seemed to have taken more of a beating then he'd thought. Every movement was pain and felt more sluggish than it should have.
At last, the elf succeeded in freeing himself from his seat belt, only to tumble headlong to the roof of the van, narrowly avoiding crushing Angie in the process. Dazed, Danthias just lay there momentarily, then began the tortuous ordeal of trying to crawl towards his friends. He didn't make it far.
The last sensations to register before he blacked out were the sounds of sirens in the distance and the sight of black booted feet heading towards the truck. Then, Dan finally lost his battle with consciousness and sank gratefully into oblivion.