Falter Page 20
“Seriously, it’s none of your business,” said Boone.
“Well, maybe she could help,” said Jason. “Give you a female perspective or something.”
“A female perspective on what?” I said.
“And actually, I wanted to ask you something,” said Jason.
“Okay,” I said.
We crested to the top of the steps.
“Hey, Boone,” said Jason, “we’re a level up. What now?”
“Turn right,” said Boone. “Go down the hallway.”
“You never had sex with someone before me, did you?” said Jason.
I stopped completely, dropping my guard character. “What? No. Why would you say that?”
Jason elbowed me. “Sorry. Come on, move.”
I glowered at him, but I kept walking. I clenched my teeth. “I can’t believe you would ask me that in front of Boone.”
“It’s related,” he said.
“How?” I said.
Ahead of us, two guards appeared, walking out of an adjoining hallway. One looked at us, furrowing his brow.
Jason and I approached him, smiling as if we were supposed to be there.
“Who are you?” said the guard, stopping us.
“I’m Brown. This is Stone,” said Jason. “Who are you?”
“We’re the guards who work full time in the mansion,” said the other guard. “Not overflow hired for the party like you two.”
“You guys are supposed to be outside,” said the first guard.
“Oh,” I said, looking at Jason. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that?”
Jason shook his head.
“Well, now you know,” said the other guard. “So, turn around and go back the way you came.”
I sighed. “Wow, really wish we could do that. But, uh…” I shook my head.
I went for my gun.
Jason was faster than me. He shot them both before they had a chance to react. They fell to the ground, dazed expressions on their faces, red holes in the middle of their foreheads.
I shook my head. “I’m never going to be as good as you, am I? You’re so fast. It’s not fair.”
“I’ve been practicing since I was five,” Jason reminded me.
“Good point.” I sighed. We picked up the bodies and dragged them into a nearby room.
Jason let his guy thud against the floor. “It’s just that you didn’t have, you know, a… cherry.”
“What?” I said, dropping my guy as well.
“What?” said Boone. “What are you guys doing?”
“Oh, we had to take out a couple of guards, Boone,” said Jason. He turned back to me. “When we, you know, had sex the first time. You didn’t like bleed or anything.”
Seriously? My jaw dropped. “Why are you talking about this in front of Boone?” I hissed.
“It’s related.” Jason started back out into the hallway.
“She didn’t?” said Boone.
“This is none of your business, Boone.” I stalked after Jason, getting in front of him.
“Well, why didn’t you?” said Jason.
“Oh my god.” I was beyond embarrassed. “I don’t know. I guess it got… broken some other time. Like with a tampon or something.”
“Oh,” said Jason, as if the thought of that had never occurred to him.
“You dick, tell me why you’re talking to me about this.”
“Cause Grace—”
“Don’t tell her,” said Boone.
“What?” I said. “Does this have something to do with Grace’s…” I struggled for a word. “Cherry?”
“It grows back,” said Jason.
“What?” I said, horrified.
Abruptly, my thoughts were shattered by a loud wailing noise. Some kind of alarm.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Boone?” asked Jason.
“Shit,” said Boone. “They just found the bodies you guys stashed. That’s what the alarm’s about. There’s like twenty guys coming for you.”
“When?”
“Pretty much now,” said Boone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We had time to duck behind some sculptures before the first of them rounded the corner.
I was behind a satyr playing some pipes. “I kept meaning to talk to you about how come you manage to keep aging even after you got killed when you were eighteen.”
Jason was behind a naked woman with wide hips and small breasts. “What?” He squeezed the trigger, firing off three shots.
The first three men to round the corner crumpled to the ground.
I leaned out around the sculpture and took aim. “Grace isn’t aging, just like I’m not. She’s frozen at the age she was when she was killed. But you’re not. You’ve aged since you were eighteen.” I shot the next two men to appear around the corner.
I hit one in the head. The other in the neck. It wasn’t as neat or as tidy as Jason’s way of shooting, but they were both dead.
The alarm stopped beeping. Suddenly it was too quiet.
“Guys?” said Boone in my ear. “I turned off the alarm.”
“We noticed,” said Jason.
Several men came around the corner shooting.
The top half of the satyr I was hiding behind exploded.
“Damn it,” I said.
Boone in my ear. “I’m locking down your wing. No one else gets in. You get these guys down, and you’re home free.”
“Good to know,” I said.
Jason pulled the trigger several times in rapid succession. Bang-bang-bang-bang. “I don’t know why I’m aging, Azazel. Maybe it’s because of how I chewed those leaves for five years. They suppressed my abilities.”
Four men halted in mid-step and then thudded against the floor.
Jason pulled the trigger again.
He missed.
“Damn it,” said Jason.
“No, you were doing it before the leaves,” I said. “When I saw you in Columbus, after we’d been apart for years, I saw that you had smile lines. You never had them before.”
“I have smile lines?”
I aimed at the guy Jason had missed. “Yes, you do. I like them. They’re sexy.” I pulled the trigger.
My shot hit the guy in the chest. He went down.
More guys appeared around the corner.
“I have no idea, then,” said Jason.
The guys opened fire. A bullet came right for me.
I yelped.
And it sped past me, barely grazing my cheek.
My hand went to the tiny wound. There was a little blood.
“You okay?” Jason jumped up from behind his statue.
“Fine,” I said. I pulled the trigger and took down two more guys.
Jason clutched his neck. “Fuck.” Blood bubbled up through his lips.
“Jason?” I said.
“Be right back,” he muttered, going to his knees.
He fell sideways against the marble floor, his eyes going dead.
Great. I’d distracted him, and he’d gotten himself killed. Temporarily, of course, but it still sucked.
I shot again, hitting four of the guys. One of them I only got in the shoulder. I took aim and shot him again.
Click.
I was out of bullets. Dammit.
I had extra bullets in the pocket of my uniform. I’d put them there earlier. I started to reload.
I looked up. They were coming for me. There were four of them left.
The bullets slipped through my fingers, clacking against the marble floor as they hit.
They rolled away from me.
“Damn it all to hell,” I muttered.
The men were closer. They were shooting.
I reached down to pick up the bullets.
The bottom half of the satyr statue erupted into bits of plaster that went in all directions.
I flattened myself against the floor, reaching out for the bullets.
I got them.
A shot sailed over my
head, so close that I could feel the air move.
I shoved the bullets into the gun.
I pointed it at the men.
I shot. One. Two. Three. Four times.
They all went down.
“Got ‘em all, Boone,” I said.
“Excellent,” he said.
I crawled over to Jason, and pulled his head into my lap. “Now, I just gotta wait for Jason to wake up.”
“He get hit?” Boone asked.
“Yeah,” I brushed Jason’s hair away from his forehead, remembering the first time I’d held him like this after he’d been shot. Jude had done it then, and I’d been sure that Jason was actually dead. I had no idea that he would come back to me. Back then, I’d thought that the world had shattered.
Jason’s eyes fluttered. He drew in a noisy first breath.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” He grinned at me.
“Welcome back,” I said.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “You always get all flowery after you come back from the dead. But, you know, day-to-day life, how often do you tell me I’m beautiful?”
He pulled me down and kissed me. “Not enough.”
“You guys going to go get Fleming?” said Boone. “That is why we’re here, isn’t it? Not for me to listen to you two make out?”
“We’re not making out,” said Jason, getting to his feet. He held out his hand to help me up as well. “Trust me, if we were making out, Azazel would be incapable of speech.”
I shoved him. “Shut up. I’m going to be incapable of speech because I’m so angry at you if you don’t watch it.”
He smirked at me.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Fleming’s two doors down,” said Boone. “Get the hell in there, please.”
“Calm down, Boone,” said Jason. “Geez.”
* * *
Gaston Fleming greeted us by blasting bullets at us the minute we opened his door.
Jason and I hit the floor right away, both of us shooting at Fleming.
My bullets ripped into his chest.
Jason’s got his head.
Fleming went lifeless, falling face down on one of his couches—an overstuffed white leather number.
Jason and I got to our feet and walked over to him, avoiding the potted palms that were all over the room. It was some kind of bedroom, but it was massive. There was a little living room area between an enormous king-sized bed and the door. It was decorated the same way that everything else had been. Simple. Elegant. Understated. With touches of Greek influence everywhere.
Jason turned the guy over. “Well, that was easy.”
I peered at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Now, we just need to find something sharp.”
“Why?”
“Because Imri wants his head.”
I made a face. “Eew.”
Jason shrugged. “That’s what he wants, so that’s what we do.”
“You think you could have mentioned that before?”
Boone spoke up. “I could have worked an ax into the mission perimeters if you would have let me.”
“I guess I forgot about it.” Jason took Fleming’s gun out of his hand. He handed it to me. “Help me look for something we can use.”
“Jason, this is a bedroom,” I said. “We’re not going to find—”
“Aha!” Jason pointed.
There was a sword hanging on the wall. It looked ancient, not like the replica swords that people sometimes order and hang up in their houses, like the fake Lord of the Rings swords from the movie. This thing was a simple, scarred blade. It had seen a lot of wear. Its hilt was worn from being gripped and used.
“You think it’s real?” I said.
“No, Azazel,” said Jason. “It’s a hologram. Of course, it’s real.”
“That’s not what I meant. They make display swords you know. People just put them up for show.”
Jason went over to the wall and lifted it. “This thing wasn’t made for display.”
“Where do you think he got it?” I asked.
“He’s filthy rich, right?” said Jason.
“Wait,” said Boone. “Is there a sword?”
“Can’t you see us right now?” I said.
“No, there are no security cameras in Fleming’s bedroom,” he said. “What’s it look like?”
“It looks like an old sword,” I said.
Jason lightly ran his finger over the blade. His voice was hushed. “It’s awesome.”
I rolled my eyes. “What is it with guys and weapons? Is it because they’re all phallic shaped, and you consider them natural extensions of your penises?”
“Yeah, it’s really Freudian,” said Jason. He held up a finger. “No, what was it that Ms. Campbell said back in Bramford? ‘Freud was a great man, but let’s not forget he snorted a lot of coke’? Something like that, anyway.”
“You’re quoting our psychotic Satanist English teacher to make fun of me?” I folded my arms over my chest. “This is a new low for you, Jason.”
Jason grinned at me. “Come on, babe. Let’s lop this fucker’s head off and go get my son back.”
I laughed in disbelief. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, you know, I put a lot of thought into it.”
“I could tell.” I rolled my eyes.
And then, behind Jason, Fleming moved.
“Jason!” I pointed.
Jason whirled, bringing the sword around in a big arc, settling it against Fleming’s neck.
Fleming gasped. “Hold on.”
“Wait a second,” I said. “We shot him with leaf bullets, right? Boone, our bullets had the leaves in them?”
“Yeah,” said Boone. “Why? What’s happening?”
“Fleming’s not dead,” I said. “Jason shot him in the head with the leaf bullets, and he’s not dead.”
“I’m guessing that’s why we have to take off his head,” said Jason.
“Imri sent you,” said Fleming. “Please, you don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“We understand,” I said. “We understand that you’re selling Nephilim blood for profit. We’re not cool with that.”
“I’m not,” said Fleming. “I don’t sell anything.”
“You sell nothing, and you have this huge mansion,” said Jason. “Right.”
“When you’ve lived as long as I have,” said Fleming, “you tend to acquire money. Listen, Imri’s a zealot. He’s convinced that what he’s doing is holy, but he was only following a confused man who didn’t know to keep his head down. Our kind needs to keep a low profile. Everyone understands that. He’s had a grudge against me for over two thousand years, but killing me isn’t the way.”
Zealot? Well, there was the fact that Mary thought they were supposed to turn people into vampires for Jesus, but people believed all kinds of weird things.
“Two thousand years?” said Jason. “That’s how old you are?”
“That’s how old Imri is,” said Fleming. “I’m a hell of a lot older than that. And I can help you. Whatever he’s promised you, I can double it.”
“He kidnapped my son,” said Jason. “And he’s going to hurt him if I don’t bring your head in. So… I’m sorry. You’re probably a very nice person, but I don’t have a lot of choice here.” Jason lifted the sword.
“Wait,” I said.
“Wait,” said Fleming.
Jason stopped, but he put the sword back against Fleming’s throat. “What, Azazel?”
“He can heal even with the leaves in his system,” I said. “We don’t even know what he is. Shouldn’t we try to—”
“Risk Chance’s life?” said Jason. “I can’t do that.”
I nodded. He had a good point. “Okay, kill him.”
Fleming’s eyes got big. “I’ve got men at my disposal. I’ll steal your son back for you. I’ll do anything.”
“Stop,” said Fleming.
Jason raised the sword.
There was a sickening wet sound as it sliced through Fleming’s neck. His head fell onto the marble floor. Blood poured everywhere.
I grimaced.
Jason reached down and picked up the head by its hair. “I need something to put this in.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said.
* * *
~jason~
I handed the pillowcase containing Fleming’s head over to Imri. He’d insisted we do the trade-off alone, without anyone else. I’d had to drive out to meet him by myself. We were alone in a cabin out in the woods in Maryland.
Of course, we weren’t idiots. Boone was tracking my phone and another tracker I had in my shoe, in case Imri made me lose the phone. The rest of the team was nearby, and they could get to me if I needed help. I didn’t have an earpiece in, but I did have a little gadget that I’d hidden in a pocket. It allowed Boone and the rest of them to hear everything that was going on. They couldn’t communicate with me, however. In that respect, I was on my own.
Imri opened the bag up. He yanked out Fleming’s head and held it up. “Very nice. I’m impressed.”
“Good. So, I want my son back.”
He smiled at me. “Of course. But one moment. I’ve got to make sure I get to this in time.” He set the head down on the table. He crossed the cabin, opened up a cabinet, and got out a glass. He brought it over to the table. Then, he took out a knife, plunged in into the head, and drained blood into the glass.
I watched as he drank the blood.
“What was he?” I said. “He didn’t die from having the leaves in his system. And the leaves kill Nephilim and vampires alike. Why didn’t Fleming die?”
Imri shook himself, making a face as if the blood hadn’t tasted very good. Which was strange, considering he had to be drinking Mary’s blood all the time to keep himself alive. Maybe the taste of Fleming’s blood was different.
I wondered if Azazel thought that different people’s blood tasted different. Was mine different than Jude’s?
I didn’t like to think about her drinking Jude’s blood. But occasionally, she had to. I might ask her. Then again, I might not. Maybe I didn’t want to know.