Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) (19 page)

Magda desperately needed more time to work through the
combinations and permutations swarming through her head.

‘The
Council only summoned. They did not make personal visits. Ever.’

Right. So why were
they
here now? Why was Trinity making a
move
now
? And then there was the small matter of Catrina and the Roma
and Damien’s pact with the devil. Exactly who pulled what strings… and for what
purpose?

Was Samuels the devil? Or had she yet to meet that mythic figure?

Something was rotten in Denmark and the stink of betrayal sat
heavy in the fetid night air.

Javier took Magda’s elbow and guided her down the driveway to a
point where they could hide behind some palmetto fronds while he pointed out a
speedboat on a trailer, hitched to an old Ford, parked on the street a long
half-block up from their position.

“Twin mercs on that Velocity, Ma’am. That bitch’s got power to
spare. Will that do you?”

Magda grinned and said, “Fuckin’ A, Javiar. Go jump ’er and take
that rig to the canal. We’ll meet you there and figure out how to get that
thing into the water.” Javier ghosted away while she raced back to the group
assembling at the head of the driveway to deliver the good news.

Reese was busy deploying her men in groups of two, stretching them
out to widen the footprint and make them less of a convenient target. It was
going to be a footrace past dozens of potential enemy bunkers, but their
choices were limited. If they assumed they were facing a disciplined army
rather than a small group of hotshot gang members, it would keep the humans on
their toes enough to get across the canal and onto the feeder road leading to
whatever building sat at the dead end.

The problem was… it was a half-mile long potential kill zone, on
an elevated stretch of sand road with a deep water canal on their left and
swampland with no bottom on their right. The humans would need to stay on the
solid surface. The vamps had other choices.

Javiar had solved the little problem of launching their new craft
by driving the rig straight into the canal. He’d managed to keep truck and
trailer straddling the width of the channel with the potential to snag any
speedboat props should one of the Trinity brain trust decide going south was a
better option.

By the time Magda, Samuels and their team arrived at the emersion
site, Javiar had cut through the restraints and freed the speedboat from the
trailer to float upstream of the cab of the truck. Samuels motioned for one of
his men to jump into the cockpit and throw a line so they could bring the boat
closer to shore and assess how many bodies would fit in the small craft.

One of the men groused, “Couldn’t you find something bigger?
That’s what… eighteen foot?” Javier let loose with rapid fire Spanglish that
Magda couldn’t follow but it left the men smirking, their fangs gleaming white
in the inky darkness.

Samuels quietly asked, “Okay, Pet, how do you want to play this?”

Captain Reese had gone ahead with her human contingent, sending out
scouts to acquire intel on the structure and any unusual topographic features.
She was well-aware of the risks and would follow Magda’s instructions to the
letter. Rinj and one of Reese’s men moved into flanking positions to the east
and north, using the swamp to mask their approach. Two humans, with assault
rifles and shoulder-mounted grenade launchers, would hang back until Reese
could assess whether or not the structure and its occupants could be secured.
Even then she would not use that ace in the hole unless Magda, or Samuels, gave
her a direct order to do so.

Damien dead was not an acceptable end game. At least not for
Magda. She counted on Trinity making a run for it, with her Sire in tow. And
her hot on their heels.

If none of that transpired, and Damien was truly collateral
damage…

That’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.

Or mine, Pet. I promise you that.

Shaking off her apprehension, Magda jumped into the boat and waved
Samuels back. It was clear he still wanted to object but after a great deal of
argument he had finally agreed that separating all the potential high value
targets was the smarter play. She would take one of the assassin squad vamps
with her, leaving Samuels to back up the humans and Rinj’s team.

If something happened to her, she hoped the Council head would
choose in favor of salvaging Damien’s life, because if he didn’t, if he
sacrificed her Sire, he would have to deal with Catrina.

That
was an end game that didn’t bear thinking about.

CHAPTER SIX

Canal

Catrina stalked around the limo, the shotgun cradled loosely in
the crook of her elbow, clearly irritated.

The driver, Walkens, leaned out the window and whispered, “Uh,
Ma’am?”

Catrina hissed,“Vait,” her accent thick. She paused to listen,
head cocked in the direction of the road. “Is company comes. You. Stay here.”
And then she was gone.

Walkens eased his PPK out of the holster at his hip and slipped
through the gap between the seats, working his way rearward to where the
sliding doors remained open, staying low. Vamps could detect even the slightest
movement and he knew he was nowhere near fast enough to overcome that handicap.

He exited near the clapboard bungalow and circled around it,
edging into the dense brush. The din of insects and scurrying of small rodents,
distant laughter, a shout, glass shattering, muffled curses… all masked his
passage. There had been two of them, at least. He’d guess more, likely two each
to a vehicle. One pair would draw the woman off toward the street. The others
had to approach from the north, winding through the neighborhood on foot,
dodging palmetto and soggy footing.

Walkens’ boots squished through a stagnant pool of brackish water,
the sound loud, even to his ears. They would scent him, hear him coming. That
was the point. He would draw the stalkers to him, force them to follow, using
the thick growth to impede their speed.

He was counting on city boys, be they vamps or human, not liking
wading through swampland. That was to his advantage, a Georgia cracker, raised
in the lowlands. He shifted his revolver to his right hand and withdrew the
Ka-Bar blade strapped to his thigh, the steel coated with black epoxy. Scent
and sound gave a general idea but nothing pinpointed a location like light
reflecting off a metal surface. He wasn’t looking to engage, not just yet.

Blue light glinted and wavered off to his right, a bug zapper
doing its job. He and his pursuers neared a collection of sheds flanking a one
story cabin. The back door was open to the porch, the screen hanging in
tatters, backlit from a lamp located somewhere towards the front of the
building. Two shapes lounged on chairs outside, one smoking, the tip glowing
bright for a millisecond. Walkens could almost taste the tang of tobacco on the
back of his throat.

Still angling toward Catrina and her quarry, he crouched low,
sticking to the shadows, and bolted past the cabin, diving once more into the
dense brush, the knife doubling as a machete when the going got too thick. If
he was right, he was two driveways down from where they’d hidden the limo.

A shout, a string of curses, most unintelligible, a single shot,
then silence. He’d gained thirty seconds, maybe more. It had to be enough.

The boat yawed as Magda and her companion shipped the long poles
someone had fashioned from deadfall discovered in a backyard. She didn’t ask
how or where. To her surprise Samuels had been the one to caution against
firing up the outboards. Someone else suggested poling the craft up the canal
until they were closer to their objective.

A silent approach. Not exactly her style. She was more a full
frontal assault type. Let sneak attacks come from Rinj and his ninja buddies.
She wanted Damien and she wanted him now. The Council head reminded her that
their prime directive was to eradicate Trinity, down to its last member, as an
object lesson to all other splinter groups that such insurrection would not be
tolerated. Having them scatter to the four winds was not an option. The last
thing they needed was for even the hint of victory to come out of this encounter.

Magda understood Samuels’ reasoning, his commitment to a scorched
earth policy. He needed a win, a big one, to legitimize his position on the
Council and to put a stop to the incessant challenges that had been plaguing
him for years. If she were in his position she’d do no more, no less. What she
feared he didn’t fully comprehend was how that policy could also be
counter-productive—that even the whiff of martyrdom could inspire hope and
resolve with other like-minded cells. The problem with the vampire species…
they always had time on their side.

Samuels and Rinj trod a slippery slope, made even more slippery
with Damien being held hostage. She had to hold to the illusion that her Sire
was not expendable, but despite Samuels’ assurances to the contrary she knew
the man would act in his own best interests, even if that meant sacrificing a
valuable asset.

Damien was
her
priority—not Samuels, not the Council, not
the rule of law, not even the survival of her race.

Damien.

By the time they’d reached the center of the canal and begun the
arduous task of pushing the craft through oily, brackish water, Samuels and the
rest of the group had dispersed into the night. Thin high clouds streaked
across the sky. Up to the northwest the lights of the city haloed over the
horizon but here, at one of the last outposts to the maze that was the
Mississippi Delta, only darkness and cloying humidity ruled the night.

The nameless vamp on the starboard side of the speedboat matched
her stride-for-stride as they paced forward, the poles jammed into the squishy
bottom, shoulder muscles bunched tight as they angled the poles, shoving hard
as the narrow vee of the keel cut through floating vegetation, yanking the
makeshift poles out of deep sucky mud, carrying them forward, then repeating.
She bit her lip to keep from grunting but there was no way to mask the soft
flup
of the poles releasing from the mud and the stereo sound of wavelets impacting
the bank.

She motioned to her cohort to ease back. He nodded in
understanding. They pushed and paused, allowing the weak current to carry them
along. A fish or a toad jumped, the splash loud. The man turned to look at
Magda, flashing fangs, fully extended. She wasn’t the only one ready to jump
out of her skin.

Flup, shush… Silence.

The road on her left butted up against the canal with a small
levee hindering her view. There was no way to count off the intersecting
streets, nothing so much as a landmark by which to judge how far they’d come.
And she wasn’t gifted with eidetic memory. The details on the map slipped away
with each pole stroke.

Their objective was not situated directly on the canal but on an
offshoot, an inlet of sorts, to the right. But just before it, no more than
fifty yards away, a longer extension that paralleled the subdivision should be
visible from the port side. They could slide in there and wait for word from
Rinj and Reese’s group. If they were lucky they’d see and hear gunfire.

If they were lucky…

Reese fell back to speak with Samuels. The road stretched ahead of
them, light colored against the inky black of the canal on their left and the
mottled shades of light and shadow that wavered like ghostly apparitions over
the swamp. There was a twenty foot clearance with firm footing on the side
opposite the canal, the sandy bottom one or two feet below the road surface.
Not much shelter for a man walking but at least it provided some protection for
when the shooting started.

The Captain motioned her men to continue forward. To Samuels she
whispered, “The road curves to the right and goes up and around the top of that
spur canal.” She used her hand to indicate the general direction. “I don’t
expect any trouble until we reach that curve and it straightens out again.”
Samuels mouthed ‘why’ so she explained. “There’s vegetation all along this side
of the road but it stops when you get to that feeder canal. At that point the
buildings are going to be outlined against the lights from the city.”

“So?”

“That puts us at a disadvantage, Sir. It effectively blinds us and
we’re exposed.”

Samuels brushed a palm along the woman’s neck, the gesture
intimate and assuring. He liked the shiver of anticipation, the slight uptick
in her heart rate, the vein already distended, ready for him.

He spoke low, his lips grazing her ear, “Not to worry, my dear.
That’s why we’re here.”

Pressing his hard length of muscle and sinew against the woman,
Samuels reveled in the feel of the harsh ridges of her weapons competing with
soft fleshy breasts. She liked to use both on him, it made her… a challenge, delectable.
But that was a distraction, a reward, for later. Right now they needed to stay
focused.