2 Brooklyn James (23 page)

Vinny shakes his head, his forearm meeting the chips in the kitty, swinging them agitatedly in front of Marks. “You ask any of those coon-asses,” he slings the derogatory term for the inhabitants of the bayou. “I paid them good money for their shacks. More money than they make in a year.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Max lunges across the table at Vinny, grabbing him by the black tie around his neck. The two Zeuses react, causing Tony to fly to action, grabbing Maxim, prying his hands from Vinny’s collar. A standoff ensues, Zeus One and Zeus Two awaiting Vinny’s orders.

Vinny adjusts his tie coolly, eyeing Max. “I believe it’s time you and your party make a quiet exit,” Vinny speaks to Tony, his voice controlled and demanding.

Tony keeps one hand on Max, scooping Marks’ winnings into Aubrey’s purse. “New Orleans PD thanks you for your charity.” Tony winks at him.

Vinny casually picks up his whiskey tumbler. “Might I suggest a leash for your pup,” he says staring down the young Maxim Keisel, memorizing his face for future reference. Tipping the glass to his lips, his thirst is unquenched as the liquid turns to ice.

Tony wops Max’s chest, knocking the steel blue shine from his eyes. “Not here,” he reprimands quietly through clenched teeth. Aubrey closes her purse, taking Marks by the arm. Vinny waves off the Zeuses. Tony pulls forcefully on Max, the four of them backing away from the table.

Gina looks up at him from her kneeling position, removing the protective tape from her feet, her eyes suspicious. “Sure you’re not stalling?”

“And why would I do that?”

She shrugs. “Maybe you’re waiting on me to change my mind,” she says knowingly. “Emily’s ready. Chomping at the bit to assume my position from the first time she laid eyes on me.”

“You speak as if her ambition is a bad thing.”

She shakes her head denying such a claim. “It’s not like you to drag your feet.”

“Have you? Changed your mind?” he inquires.

“I never wanted it to begin with.” She powers Spartacus down, patting the dummy on the head, departing, “Until next time.”

“You wanted to remain with me and Braydon, even in our death. What is the difference now? You can be with us...me and Maxim...in our life.”

“Life?” she crows. “You don’t have a life, Lon. You think Manny Briggs is beholden to you? You’re a slave to yourself.” She paces. “You do nothing but plan and scheme and monitor ETNA. For what? Reckoning? Power?” Her hands flit about in time with her stream of consciousness. “Sure. It’s intriguing at first. The whole Vigilare thing. You’re faster, stronger...supernatural. Until it becomes a liability. Until it rules your life.” She stops moving about, her gaze settling on him. “No one should be immortal...it’s inhumane.”

“Who said anything about being immortal?”

“How do you propose a Vigilare is mortal when their powers only enhance when they are cut open...when they bleed?” She tilts her head curiously realizing by the look on his face that he does, in fact, have the answer. “How did you figure all of this out?”

“By giving into it.” He circles her. “You’ll never understand something you’re continuously fighting against, Brianna.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps. “And just exactly how are you...Max...Emily...
Hell Hound,”
she exaggerates the filthy moniker, “mortal? Do you plan on taking the Vigilare pedigree from all of them? The way you did with me?” Her questions exacerbate her panic. “Where’s Emily? What have you done to her?”

He snaps his head in her direction, his eyes pained and angered beginning to glare the trifecta of colors—violent red, steel blue and emerald green. “Is that what you think of me?” his voice verging on distortion.

“I don’t know what to think of you anymore.”

“He’s poisoned you against me. The great detective.” He chuckles, low and sinister. “What a grand idea you’ve given me,
Gina,”
he spews the name, walking from the room. She follows loosely behind him, her investigatory skills commencing. “Breakfast is that way.” He points down a long corridor before entering his monitoring station, forcefully slamming the door behind him.

She makes a detour, headed for the blood lab. Pushing her weight against the monstrous steel door, she peeks inside unsure of what she may find. Her auditory sensors are hit with soothing classical music. Emily wakes from the cold mechanical table to which she is shackled at each joint. The insides of her arms bearing the same intravenous setup as Gina endured a few nights previously.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” Emily warns, a call button ready in her hand. Her thumb hovering over the trigger, stalling, awaiting Gina’s intentions.

“Did he take it from you? Your telekinesis?” Gina urgently inspects the IV lines surrounding Emily.

“No. I don’t think so.” She attempts to call on Gina’s Vigilare abilities.

“It’s not going to work. He took mine. Remember?”

“Well, then, how could I know?” Emily barks, jerking against the restraints. “Why would you think that, anyway? He’s been nothing but nice to me. Even turned on some music to settle my nerves.”

“Did you know about him...Lon? And Braydon? Did you know they were kept alive the same as me?” Gina searches Emily’s face desperately.

“No,” Emily affirms adamantly. “You think even I would keep something like that from you?”

“Your mother didn’t seem to think I needed to know,” Gina fires back, her adrenaline pumping with the thought. She jerks on the table and its shackles impatiently.

Emily’s teeth grind uncomfortably, “My
mother
does a lot of things I wouldn’t. And for that, I am sorry.” Emily twists her hand around in the shackle at her wrist, her fingers tightly encompassing Gina’s hand busily attempting to figure out the workings of the locked cuff. Her action successful in causing Gina to look at her directly. “She will get her comeuppance for this, Gina. It will not go unpunished.”

Gina squeezes her hand, letting go. “Another time. Right now, we have to get you out of this thing.” Gina inspects the table. “Do you think you can put those in me?” She eyes the IVs in Emily’s arm.

“Are you crazy?” Emily’s voice on the rise.

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” Gina whispers vehemently. Eyeing the blood in the large vial, her blood that swirls around, hints of emerald green shining through the crimson red. “We have to put that back in my system.”

“Thought you didn’t want it?”

“I don’t, but we’re presently out of options. Is there a key or something...for these things?” She tugs on the cuffs holding Emily’s wrists firmly to the table.

“He wants me to have it,” Emily defends, gripping the call button more firmly trying to decide whether to ring it. “Someone who wants it should have it, Gina.”

“I know!” she exclaims in a whisper. “But I can’t just shove it into your body. We don’t even know how you’d react. I have no idea what he may or may not have added to the mix.”

“Do you even care?” Emily scans her, her eyes guilt-ridden. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me,” she refers to betraying Gina to Hell Hound.

“I think a hell of a lot more of you than I ever did before.” Gina tinkers with the IV lines, tracing them to their ends. Finding a port, she inserts the end of the tubing running from her vial of blood into the IV line inserted into Emily’s right arm. “It was either me or Max, right? I’m glad to see you’re loyal to him.”

“But I compromised the entire compound,” Emily argues, still holding herself accountable.

“You had no choice.” Gina continues busily with the configuration of IV lines and pumps. “Now, help me figure out how we get these things out of you and into me,” she coaches.

“Just tell him...Lon, that you want to be Vigilare again. That’s what he wants anyway. Why do you think he’s taking so long with me?”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Gina warns. “We’ve got to get to Tony before Lon does.”

“Don’t you think if he wanted to get to Tony he would have already?”

“I don’t know what to think. He’s a loose cannon, Emily. He’s not my Lon.” Gina stops the pump to Emily’s left. “Okay,” she eyes the pump her vial of blood is attached to, “all we have to do is turn this thing on. I think.”

“You think he’s going to take Tony’s pedigree, too?”

“I don’t
think.
I know he will. Maybe even Max’s, once he sees how well he and Tony get along. I mean, the man plans on turning a group of the world’s most intelligent scientists into a militant army to set them loose on the mob of New Orleans. I don’t think all of his synapses are exactly firing on all levels.”

“Did you hear that?” Emily listens intently at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Shit!” Gina whispers.

“Just turn it on.” Emily prepares herself to accept the serum.

“I don’t know what it’s going to do to you,” Gina argues. The footsteps grow imminent.

“Push the button, Gina.” Emily looks warily at the door, the handle turns, the lock keeping it from opening.

“Ahh,” Gina mutters.

“Push it!” Emily charges. Gina mashes down on the start button. The pump begins clicking away, delivering her vial of blood to Emily.

Knock! Knock! Knock!
goes the door. “Emily?” Lon’s voice calls agitatedly from outside.

“Yeah?” she answers.

“Who’s in there with you? Why is the door locked?” his voice growing angry, verging on distortion.

Emily does not answer. She is completely debilitated as Gina’s blood courses through her veins, a sparkling emerald green light filling the entire room.

A heavy boot lands firmly against the middle of the thick metal door, causing it to bow.

“Come on. Come on. Come on,” Gina mutters eyeing her vial of blood, half empty.

Thud! Thud! Thud!
A round of kicks are delivered to the steel frame, each one swiftly working away at its infrastructure. Emily’s shackles start releasing one by one as her strength grows tremendously. The iron cuffs snap and ricochet about the room with her power.

“That’s it!” Gina encourages, the vial of blood nearly empty.

With one more thunderous
Thud!
the door releases from its hinges, catapulting into the center of the room and sliding across the floor. Gina crouches defensively, remaining beside Emily, pulling the IVs from her arms.

“What have you done?” Lon’s voice verges on demonic with its disturbed distortion, his eyes flaring all three colors, he makes a quick assessment as he enters the room.

Emily’s body rises from the table clearing air, her feet snapping upright, her arms coiling into position, fisted and protective. Lon lunges at Emily, his chest met by Gina’s hands, placing herself between them. He picks Gina up around her waist, winging her to the side, setting her down gently, erect. His attention returning to Emily. She jumps down from the table, meeting his wicked glare with her own blazing emerald green.

“Dammit!” Lon seethes unable to unleash on her as the scent of Gina’s blood she now carries calls on every protective instinct of his nature.

“Go!” Gina orders.

Emily crouches, side-stepping Lon, she bolts from the room. A ruckus is heard in the hallway as she mows over Manny Briggs in search of an exit.

Gina backs away from Lon, his fiery gaze now focused on her.

“You want me to go after her?” Manny approaches the door to the lab, his labored chest rising and falling, his face forming a sinister grin, hopeful.

“Let her go,” Lon orders, his voice still fully distorted. He jerks his head in Manny’s direction, releasing a warning fireball. Manny throws himself to the floor, the fireball cracking the wall behind him.

“Okay. Okay!” Manny yells, his hands up over his head in defeat.

“Leave us,” Lon barks.

Manny scurries to his feet, distastefully eyeing Gina before he departs.

“What am I going to do with you?” Lon lunges at Gina, his arm around her waist, his momentum sending them flying back against the wall. His hand moves behind her head providing a cushion from the hard steel surface. He growls, punching the wall behind her. His chest heaving up and down, his nostrils flaring, aching for a release he cannot deliver to his once-beloved.

“Stop this,” she pleads. Her fingers tracing the hand-shaped scar on his neck wishing she could heal his flesh, along with his heart. “Let me help you.”

“Come,” he orders, gently pushing her hand away.

She braces herself against the wall in refusal. He grips her wrist, pulling sternly yet mindful not to inflict pain. Gina continues to stall, resisting. Lon huffs, one arm lacing behind her back, the other scoops her knees out from under her. He carries her snugly against his lean frame as he swiftly exits the room.

Manny Briggs lurks in the hallway before returning to the blood lab. He leans against the door casing eyeing the glass cylinder that once held Gina’s blood, not entirely empty of its contents. What small amount remains is enough to sparkle emerald green through tides of crimson red like a lava lamp.