Shrouds of Darkness (32 page)

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Authors: Brock Deskins

BOOK: Shrouds of Darkness
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“Then how can you win and bring my dad back?”

I smile evilly, “By being a sneaky son of a bitch.”

I return to my armory and come back out with a laden rucksack.

“Do I even want to know what’s in the bag?” Katherine asks.

I look at her innocently. “Just some library books I need to drop off.”

We kiss passionately before I jump on my bike and speed northward upstate to what will be by far the toughest fight of my life. I’m not so arrogant to think my strength and fighting skill is so great that I can ride in Rambo style and proceed to kick ass. If I am to succeed, I need to pick my battleground and prepare it to favor me significantly.

I am also counting on the crooked Sheriffs being fairly new to the game. If they were the Sheriffs I worked with back when I was amongst their ranks, I would be in serious trouble. Fortunately, whoever decided to hatch this plot replaced good men and women with loyal ones, sacrificing quality for manipulability. Of the Sheriffs I’ve seen on duty only Wyatt has any tenure.

Nearly an hour later I hide my bike in some bushes near the wall that surrounds the massive estate. The wall itself poses little in the way of being an obstacle, but I need to deal with the cameras and other security systems. That’s where Marvin comes in.

I talk to Marvin through my headset. “I’m at the spot.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to go,” Marvin replies.

We mapped out every camera and motion sensors on the property then assigned simple labels to them. When I call out the number, Marvin turns off that camera or sensor then back on in hopes that anyone monitoring them will attribute it to simple anomalies and not sound the alarm.

I take a running leap and easily clear the ten-foot brick and wrought iron wall. “One.”

Marvin does not answer, as expected, and I can only hope that he can hear me and does his part. “On.”

“Two,” I speak into the headset as I sprint across the acres of manicured lawn, trees, and shrubbery.

“On. Three, on,” I continue as I rapidly approach the enormous mansion.

I crouch and hide in the shadows of a hedge next to the palatial home, listening intently for anything that would indicate that someone is aware of my presence.

“Damn, Leo,” Marvin speaks into my earpiece, “maybe you are blacker than me. I have never seen a white boy move that fast! Jesse Owens has nothing on you!”

“Focus, Marvin. I’m making my way to the outer library doors. When I get there, I need you turn off the outside camera and disable the inside motion sensors.”

“I know what to do. You told me five times before you left. Part of being a genius is having a rather remarkable memory after all.”

“And part of not getting killed is making doubly sure everything goes exactly as planned and my security guy isn’t distracted by a pretty woman being in close proximity.”

“She is distracting, I’ll give you that, but I’m all over this,” Marvin assures me. “But when you’re done, you can bet I’ll be all over that, yes sir.”

Through my headset, I hear a slap then Marvin curse. “Damn it, your woman just hit me. You two are perfect for each other.”

“She’s just making sure you understand the boundaries.”

“Yeah well, you better hope she didn’t knock any of the genius out of me.”

I ignore Marvin’s whining and stealthily edge along the wall towards the French doors that open into the library. I pause just beyond the view of the camera and give Marvin the signal to shut it off. The door is not designed with security in mind and I pop it open easily and step into the chamber.

The smell of hundreds of thousands of sheets of paper bound in various volumes filling shelves and lining walls welcomes me the instant I step through the door and secure it behind me. I tell Marvin to turn the outside camera back on and I immediately begin setting up my battlefield.

I position several heavy oak tables near the inner door that should serve to funnel my opponents between the tall rows of bookshelves in the center of the room. I will be outnumbered and my greatest vulnerability is my foes outflanking and hitting me from multiple directions, so I need to do what I can to get my enemies to attack me from one direction.

Their superiority of numbers, although certainly advantageous for them, could also be their biggest weakness—next to being a bunch of noobs.  They will be over-confident and feel secure enough in their numbers that they will forego any real tactics and seek to simply overwhelm me. At least I hope they do. If I misread them, I am in a lot of trouble.

I order Marvin to cut the outside camera once more then turn it and the library motion sensors back on once I am about a hundred yards out from the outside library doors. I then make my way back to the library in a hunched jog and reenter, taking nearly a minute to “pick the lock”.

If everything is going to plan, the traitorous Sheriffs should already have been waiting for me at the mansion and will take just moments to converge on the library.

As if on cue, nine trench-coated forms almost casually stroll into the library with swords and guns drawn to intercept me. I jump back as if startled near the far end of the massive bookcases that stand to my left and right. Quinn is of course leading the way but I am very disappointed to see Wyatt standing to his right as they all take several steps towards me.

“Who says the cops are never around when you need them?” I say to them sarcastically. “You all having a slumber party? I’m almost hurt you didn’t invite me. You know how much I love a good pillow fight.”

“You fucked up, Malone,” Quinn tells me. “We know your computer guy was snooping around in the system so we knew you’d be coming. And you tripped the alarm just outside. I knew the ‘legend’ of Leo Malone was bullshit.”

“Is that what you think?” I ask then turn my attention to Wyatt. “I’m most disappointed in you, Wyatt. I thought better of you than this.”

I can tell my words hurt him. He casts his eyes to the ground for second and that gives me hope that I might be able to improve my odds diplomatically.

“I follow orders, Leo. You wouldn’t know about that. I took an oath to obey and so I obey. That’s what soldiers do.”

“Only weak soldiers blindly obey, Wyatt. That’s always been your problem; you put the words of your oaths above the intent. The question is how blind were you? Do you know about Martin Goldstein or all the new vampires running amok? How about the fact that your leader has let the Cure get out on the street?”

They widening of his eyes tells me that last one took him by surprise, but he buries his shame and simply shakes his head. I almost feel sorry for him; being caught between what he perceives is his duty and the corrupt intents of someone he thinks he is supposed to obey without question. That doesn’t mean I won’t kill him if I have to, but if I can take him out of the fight, my odds improve significantly. Of the nine, only Wyatt comes close to being my equal. Weak-willed or not, he is a trained and formidable warrior.

Wyatt looks at me, his face full of remorse. “It doesn’t matter now. I closed my eyes and asked to be left out of the details as much as possible, but I’ve chosen a side whether I wanted to or not and now I’m stuck with it. I’m sorry, Leo.”

“You can still choose, Wyatt. I’m not asking you to turn or even help me in this fight. I can respect Switzerland. I’ll tell you what, those who want to live, go stand over there,” I direct and point towards the far corner of the library. “Those who agree with Quinn and want to die in the next couple of minutes just stay where you are.”

After a moment of indecision, Wyatt turns, slips between two tables, and stands in the corner I indicated. Two others, the nervous kid and a young Asian woman, look to each other before following after their leader.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn bursts out. “You’re done, old man. It looks like I’ll be taking your job sooner than planned. You two I’ll kill later.”

“It looks like you all aren’t as close knit as you thought,” I tell Quinn. “The odds are looking a whole lot better for me and a whole lot worse for you.”

Quinn scoffs. “It’s still six to one which twice as many as I need to deal with you.”

“Really? Because when we fought in that warehouse you ran like a scared little bitch.”

“I wasn’t ready to deal with you then and I was surrounded by weaklings!” Quinn shouts defensively.

“You think you’re ready now?”

“Oh you’re damn right I’m ready,” Quinn answers anxiously.

I shake my head. “No you’re not, Quinn; you never were, and you never will be.”

Wyatt can see me in the space between the two bookcases to my left and barely has time to comprehend the chaos I am about to unleash. Noticing the earplug set deep in my ear and glimpsing the tiny remote in my hand, he grabs his two young charges and pulls them to the ground at the same instant I press the button.

The bookshelves to either side of my foes explode in a mass of concussive force and flesh-rending steel balls. Leafs of paper and smoke fill the air as half a dozen claymores I disguised as books destroy everything before them. 

I drop the small remote, pull my sword with one hand and Shalonda with the other, and wade in before the remote even hits the ground. My first target is Quinn. As the second in charge of the Sheriffs, I have to assume he is the strongest amongst them. The blast staggers him but he does not go down, but one massive slug from my hand cannon changes that.

Even that massive amount of damage is no guarantee of permanently putting down one of our kind, but that’s what my blade is for. I sweep it in a lethal arc as Quinn stumbles backwards and down into those behind him, taking his head from his shoulders and ensuring he never rises to cause trouble again.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and duck a sword swing aimed for my own head. Continuing the movement, I spin, sweeping my blade at the same time, and open the guts of the young black woman with the nearly shaved head. She leaps away before I can administer a finishing blow, holding her innards in with her left hand.

I come out of my spin and point Shalonda right at the face of a man just recovering from the blast and squeeze the trigger. A large section of his skull vanishes, exposing the grey matter beneath. I don’t follow up this attack either. The key thing in a battle like this is never stop moving.

Pure instinct tells me to duck and spin once more as blade goes whistling over my head.  I come out of my one-eighty with a thrust that catches my attacker just below the chin. The flat tip of my sword easily pierces the soft throat, slips between the two uppermost vertebrae, and erupts from the back of his neck.

I make a diving roll to my left as two vampires pick themselves up after being blasted off their feet. A man and a woman, both firing automatic pistols, empty their clips at my dodging form. Bullets tug at my heavy trench coat and I feel the impact of at least three rounds find home in my shoulder, thigh, and calf.

I find momentary refuge behind a bookshelf half-tipped onto the one next to it as I come up. I lob a flash grenade towards the source of gunfire and come up the instant it goes off. The woman is already taking aim at me so I unload two shots into her chest as I sprint at her and her comrade.

The massive slugs striking with nearly three thousand pounds per square inch of force each rock her back and she falls to the ground. I am standing over her before she can recover and meet out a swift end to her life as a vampire.

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