The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (38 page)

In the next second, she calmed. She patted the air ahead of her. "Okay, keep going. You can get up more floors in ten. Let
them
make the next move." She set off up more steps, her boots echoing around the stairwell. She cleared twenty-one, and twenty-two, glancing at her watch every time she hit a landing. She hoped they wouldn't do anything bad to the boys because of her no-show. If they did, it was on her. She passed twenty-two. She stepped up more stairs, her legs tingling.

"How the hell did I get into this?" she mumbled to herself as she went. "Being chased by crazy guys, hunting vamps. Won't anything be normal again? Well, my finger won't be the same again, that's for sure." She cleared twenty-three. A check of the watch told her she had five minutes. She made it through twenty-four and twenty-five.

By the time she made it to twenty-seven
,
that was down to three. And she was starting to get sick of staring at white walls and stairs.
Come on, Trixie,
she urged herself.
Come on, girl, just get up as many as you can.

And then what?
she asked herself.
Once the time's up. Then what?

She knew she'd just have to wait and see.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

V
incent let out a bored sigh and looked around him. His right leg had numbed from being strapped to the chair for so long. He wondered how long it had been since they gave Trixie the ultimatum. Ten minutes? Twenty? She still hadn't arrived or even responded. He hoped it wasn't because anything had happened to her. Or because she had other ideas.

He wasn't sure which scenario was worse.

He caught Dom's stare, who gave him a look of sympathy in return. Vincent guessed he was probably contemplating the same things. Where was Trixie? Was she okay?

Only time will tell,
he answered in his mind.

He turned back to lay eyes on Leviah. He was slumped in his recliner, thrumming his slender fingers on the armrest, an expression of absolute boredom embedded in his face. Vincent took great pleasure in that countenance. Any kind of suffering on behalf of Leviah was welcome.

"Waiting, waiting..." Vincent then said in an absent tone, just loud enough for Leviah to hear.

Leviah began to thrum harder.

"She ain't biting, boss," Sammy then suggested with a shake of his head.

Leviah ceased thrumming. "Where is she now?"

Sammy got on his radio. "Yeah, it's Sammy. Where's she at?"

"We've got her locked on the stairwell at twenty-seven
.
"

Sammy turned to Leviah. "They said she's on--"

"My ears still function correctly, Sammy!" Leviah snapped. He huffed. "Well, if she won't come peacefully, then we better drag her in."

"Sure thing, boss." Sammy got back on his radio. "Move in! Move in!"

"Roger out!"

"She'll be here in a jiffy, boss," Sammy stated with an air of confidence.

Vincent gave Dom a grave glance. Dom gulped.

"Why must everything be so difficult?" Leviah lamented with a shake of his head.

T
rixie was about to enter the stairwell for twenty-eight when that loudspeaker started up again.

"Hey, Trixie! Since you don't wanna play nice, you leave us no choice. We gave you a chance, but time's now up."

Trixie glanced at her watch. "Hey, I've still got two minutes!" she said to the air around her.

"We can see you!"
that voice then sang at her.

Trixie frowned.
See me?

An electronic whir began from somewhere. Her head snapped up. She found herself staring at a CCTV camera jutting out of the wall. She hadn't noticed them in any of the stairwells so far. The thing was turning her way. Her jaw dropped. The eye focussed right in on her. She could almost see them all waving at her from wherever they were watching.

"Oh, crap."

"Say cheese!"
the voice demanded.

The stairwell door then burst open and they started pouring out. Trixie almost jumped out of her skin. She spun to face them all. She caught a glimpse beyond the door of them filing out from the elevator like ants.

She whirled, raucous laughter bolting from that loudspeaker, filling the corridor alongside hungry mercs. She raced up the steps, just as the first one lunged. She heard his palms slap down on the steps behind her, missing her by inches.

She fished her remaining smoke bomb from her belt, popped it, and slung it over her shoulder. There was a small clang before a hot, acrid stench filled the tight space. She threw her forearm up to her nose and mouth against the gas, closing her eyes tight as she scurried up the stairs like a blind mouse. Coughs and chokes erupted behind her; it was like music to her ears. But, she knew she had to get out of there quick, or she'd get caught up in the smoke herself.

She ventured to open her eyes; a hot sting erupted in her eyeballs like she'd just been dipped in a vat of acid. She shrieked just as she spotted the door leading out to whatever floor she was on. A glimpse was all she needed. She shut her eyes against the toxic smoke and threw out a hand for the door handle. She caught it first time, swung the door open, and jumped inside to the floor beyond. She scampered along, her eyes slits, her heart racing. She hoped the smoke bomb obscured her getaway. Then again, the cameras would've caught it all. Damn, Big Brother, she forgot about him. That was another problem she'd have to deal with tonight.

Right then, she just had to hide. She was in another office space; the scant moonlight shining through the windows illuminated the area just enough for her to see. She raced up to the water cooler, her eyes stinging. She managed to get away from the gas just in time, or it would've been a lot worse. She spat out the remnants of it on her tongue as she hit the button on the water cooler, setting off a stream of water. She cupped her hand beneath it, grabbed as much as she could and splashed it up into her eyes; they instantly cooled. She repeated the procedure a couple of times, rinsing her mouth out as well.

Feeling better, she left the cooler behind, shooting through the office floor out to the opposite stairwell. All the way she cursed herself for forgetting about the cameras. There was most probably one trained on her right now.
Stick to the shadows,
she told herself. She bent down low and hugged the wall, scampering along like a mouse. She made it to the opposite stairwell, her breath hot, her mind fizzing with paranoia. They'd decided to hunt her down. From here on out, she'd have to hide and evade.

She got into the opposite stairwell, which was clear. She locked eyes on the camera on the wall above her. She hugged the wall to try and stay out of its range as she moved by it. Then she was going up steps again. She made it up to twenty-nine, where she decided to enter the floor to double back on herself in an attempt to throw them off; she figured the more she moved around, the harder it would be for them to lock onto her, even with their damn cameras.

The floor was dark, shadowy, and more importantly empty. She went and collapsed against the wall, falling down to the carpet. She needed a moment to catch her breath. That last incident was too close a shave. She hoped they'd lost her and would go back to searching for her instead of jumping her.

Now she definitely knew for sure the deal was off. "Oh well, looks like we'll be climbing more stairs," she said to herself with a rueful grin. After a minute of blissful peace, she lifted her head up to take in her new surroundings. It was dark, but with the scant light coming through the glass panel of the stairwell door, she could make out a sign plastered on the reception desk ahead of her. "
Meatpack Food Solutions?
" she read aloud. She shrugged. She wanted to get through to the other stairwell to get going in a zigzag movement up the floors, that way the cameras would have a hard time locking onto her. It would take longer to get up the floors, but she had no other choice.

She wrenched herself to her feet, stretched her aching limbs and then stepped up to the Meatpack reception desk. She stopped ahead of it and stared in confusion. There was nothing on the desk; not a computer terminal, nor pen and paper to be seen. Just a fake oak paneled desk and a lonesome chair behind it. She glanced up at the company name once more: 'Meatpack Food Solutions, for all your feeding needs.' Next to it was a cartoon image of a pig's head with apple stuffed in its smiling mouth, its eyes a pair of crosses. She shivered; something about it was just creepy. And it was worse when lit up by moonlight.

She shrugged away the shivers now racing up and down her spine and moved past reception into a small lobby area beyond. Ahead of her was a wall of Perspex running from floor to ceiling. Beyond the Perspex were huge metal walls, doors embedded in them. Food solutions? Meat? I guess they must be the cold rooms.

Whatever they were, they were blocking her path to the opposite stairwell. There was no way around, so she had to go through them. She went and pulled open the door within the Perspex wall and stepped inside. The whir of a generator became audible, as she approached the cold room door. On the side, an LED panel read thirty degrees Fahrenheit. She grabbed the metal door handle and yanked it; it crunched down and the door popped open. A blast of cold air hit her. The whir grew louder; the AC doing its thing. She took a breath, small puffs of condensed air shooting out of her mouth. She then stepped inside the fridge, the cold air grinding straight to her bones. As she shivered, another sound became apparent; a slow, steady drip punctuating the whir of the AC. But, it wasn't a single drip; it was a series of them all working together like a chorus.
Drip-drip-drip-drip,
as if there were leaky pipes in there. She stared ahead of her for the source; it was pitch black.

Need some light in here.
She popped her head back out, finding a panel of light switches on the front of the cold room. She flicked them all on. There was a brief flash behind her before a stable light flooded the area ahead of her.

That's done the trick.
Now, hopefully, there'd be a rear exit and she could get back to clearing floors. She stepped backward, closing the door as she went, that drip continuing the whole time. She then turned to get moving. She made half a step when she recoiled in fright.

She stopped dead, her hand shooting up to her mouth to stifle a scream, her eyes almost popping out of her skull.

There was a forest of dead bodies hanging from the cold room ceiling.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

G
eneral Nixon scrutinized the myriad of CCTV screens ahead of him, his eyes darting up, down, left, right. The screens flicked through live footage of every camera on every floor in the building. One second he was seeing the lobby, the next, floor eighty-six, then back down to fifty-two.

"Come on, where are you?" he asked through clenched teeth. He threw his unblinking eyes to yet another screen where the camera was panning around, picking up nothing but empty desks and chairs. She'd already taken down one of their guys on the fifth; they spotted his prone body lying on the carpet like the fag he was. Nixon couldn't abide men who got taken down by women; skinny women at that. All right, she had some fancy moves and a utility belt that would make Batman jealous, but hell, she was still just a girl for Chrissakes.

And as for those other guys on the twenty-seventh... Storming in without masks on. After the crap she pulled on the lobby? Those SOBs were gonna soon find themselves in need of day jobs.

On cue, he laid eyes on a shot of the twenty-seventh stairwell; it was filled with fog-like smoke. He grunted to himself and switched his eyes to another screen. This time it was an empty restaurant on the first. He huffed. The problem with bullfrogs--especially female bullfrogs--was that they could hide well; blend into the shadows like spiders and sit and wait for eternity. Nixon hated that sneaking around crap; he liked a straight up fight mano-a-mano. Fight like men, not pussies.

He flicked his eyes down to another screen: floor seventy-two. They were still huddled in the auditorium. After the evac they were hastily congregated there and told to wait until everything blew over. Nixon didn't count on things being dragged out this long. It was just one bullfrog for Chrissakes, can't these dumb bastards even catch one frickin' bullfrog?