Nadya's Nights: Road to Vengeance (19 page)

Of course, that fucking voice waits until I’m two seconds from death to stick its big, fat fucking face in.

Hey!  Who’re you calling fat?

“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled out loud.

Just then, a third hand grabbed hold of the rat woman’s neck, yanked her off of Nadya, and smashed her into the nearby wall.  Her bones crunched and snapped as the creature let out a squeak before she was dropped to the ground.

Looking up, Nadya saw Bridget standing over her.  “Way I figure it, that makes up for me trying to kill you.”

Nadya wasn’t exactly sure if she agreed, but at the moment, she didn’t really give a fuck so she gave a nod and hopped to her feet.  “Next time, try not to leave me behind when I’m covering our rear.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re ungrateful…” Bridget said, shaking her head and turning away.  “C’mon.  We’re almost there.”

Nadya let the comment go and followed, anxious to get the fuck out of the sewer and away from the disgusting rat people.  After she got through with killing Remy, she’d have to ask Vlad if she could borrow some napalm and come back to exterminate the things.

It wasn’t so much a personal vendetta.

She just really didn’t like them.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Conflict

Bridget stopped at a ladder leading up to a manhole.  The sounds of the rat people were still loud.  It sounded as though they were being converged on from all sides.  Nadya was anxious to get out of the sewer, not wanting to waste all of her ammo on the things when she still had so much killing to do.  She’d retrieved her pistols and still held them at the ready but they hadn’t come across any more of the monsters.

“This is it,” Bridget said, motioning upwards.  “This’ll lead us to the lower level of the hideout.”

“What about our friends down here?” Nadya asked, not wanting to get pinned between rats and wolves.

“Don’t worry.  Ugly cocksuckers don’t leave the sewers much.  And they sure as fuck know better than to follow us where we’re going.”

Bridget started up the ladder.  Nadya moved to the bottom of it, waiting for her to get through the manhole and keeping her pistols at the ready until she did.  Turning her head to look down the tunnel leading off to the right and then to the left, she tried to spot any of the things making a rush at her.

Up above, she heard Bridget pushing the cover off the manhole.  A few seconds later, she heard the Irish woman call down to her.  “Alright.  Get your ass up here.”

Nadya holstered her guns and turned to the ladder, climbing it as fast as she could.  As she got to the top she felt Bridget’s hands on her, helping to pull her up.  Once she was out of the sewer, Bridget released her and Nadya took several steps away from the woman.  The sudden physical contact had startled her.  Turning back to Bridget, she watched her push the cover back over the hole.

“Where to now?” Nadya asked, keeping her voice low.

They were in what appeared to be a storage room.  Wooden crates were stacked along the walls and there was only one door leading out of the room.

“Never mind.  I think I can guess…” She started towards the door.  “How many of your pals are in this place?”

Bridget was silent for a few moments before answering.  “Ten.”

“Good thing I brought plenty of bullets, then…” Drawing her pistols, she checked the clips and replaced them with fresh ones.

“You don’t have to kill them…” Bridget said.

Nadya turned to face her, seeing how much she disliked the idea of murdering her own kind.

“Are they going to try and kill me?” she asked.

Bridget was silent, but she gave a nod.

“Are you going to go have a nice little chat with them over a cup of tea and explain why they should just hand Remy over to me?”

“I can try!” Bridget said, that look of hope in her eyes again.  “Let me try!”

Nadya smirked and shook her head.  “How old are you?”

“I became a werewolf when I was twenty,” Bridget replied, a bit confused by the question.

“I’m not asking how old you look,” she said.  “What’s your actual age?”

“Fifty-two.  Why?”  She was beginning to grow annoyed.

Nadya let out a long sigh.  “Fifty-two… Jesus.  I’m nineteen.  How is it that you’re so much older and yet so much more naive than I am?”

“Those people up there are my friends,” Bridget pleaded.

“And right now, your friends are allied with a real asshole,” Nadya shot back.  “A real asshole who’s been a real fucking pain for me and, from what you said, for you, too.  Seems to me, if your friends were really your friends, you all would’ve ganged up and fucked him in the ass by now.  Ergo, your friends are not your friends.  They don’t give a shit about you.”

“Oh, and you do?”  Bridget crossed her arms at her chest, which she extended outwards in an attempt to look bigger.  Since Nadya was already a good deal smaller than the woman and still not intimidated by her, she found the act pretty ridiculous.

“No.  I couldn’t care less about you or your dead fucktoy for that matter,” she said, narrowing her eyes.  “The difference is, I’m being honest about that.  And I’m also going to help you get your revenge.  After that, you can go have happy fun times with your lover’s rotting corpse for all I care.  But in the meantime, I’m going to go kill Remy.  And I am going to kill any motherfucker that gets in my way.  And, to put it quite simply, I don’t give a fuck if I leave ten dead werewolves in this place, or eleven.  That’s your call at the moment.”

She waited for Bridget’s response, her hands gripping her pistols tighter, prepared to raise them and empty them into the woman if need be.

Bridget looked to the floor, her arms falling to her sides and her shoulders slumping.  The redhead deflated and all of the sudden, she appeared almost smaller than Nadya.  After nearly a minute of silent reflection, she lifted her head back up and gave her a nod.

“You’re right.  You’re a fucking insensitive, black-hearted cunt.  But you are right…”

Nadya cracked an almost demonic smile.  “Never said I wasn’t an insensitive, black-hearted cunt.  But there might be some hope for you yet.”

Turning back to the door, Nadya approached it.  “So… ten.  Plus Remy, who’s a major fucking problem.  Any idea where in this place they might be?”

“Exactly?  No idea,” Bridget said, following behind her.  “Remy’s not a pussy, so he’s probably not gonna have them all grouped up around him.  But he’s not an idiot, either.  So chances are, he’ll have them guarding the place.  Since they haven’t heard back from our group yet, they might be waiting for you.”

“For me, yes.  For us, probably not,” Nadya replied.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “So… it seems like we’re gonna have ourselves one fuck of a good fight here.”

“It’s definitely possible.”

Nadya smirked.  “Wonderful.  I always love a good fight…”

Stepping forward, she lifted a foot and kicked open the door, stepping through with her guns raised.

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Revenge Begins

Moving out of the small storage room and into the hall beyond, Nadya extended her arms out to either side, aiming one gun down each side of the hall.  She glanced both ways and saw nothing trying to kill her, so she glanced to Bridget.  “Which way?”

“Left,” Bridget said, her voice still revealing her hesitance at killing her own kind.

“Let me know now if I’m gonna have to be watching my back around you,” Nadya said, narrowing her eyes at the Irish woman.

Bridget shook her head.  “You won’t.  I want Remy dead.  If the others get in the way of that, I’ll do what I have to.”

Nadya gave her a brief nod.  “Good.  Now you’re thinking clearly.”  She turned to the left and started down the hall, keeping her pistols at the ready.  She stopped as they neared the corner of the hall, seeing it veer off to the right.  Looking back to Bridget again, she held up one of her pistols.  “You want one?”

Bridget shook her head.  “If it comes to that, I’ll take them out in my own way.”

Turning back, Nadya had to admit that there was a certain amount of honor the woman was taking into the potential battle she was about to be in.  Unloading a ton of bullets into an enemy might not have been the most honorable way of defeating them, but when your enemy was a werewolf, you took whatever edge you could get.

Bridget, being a werewolf herself, could afford to fight hand-to-hand.  Nadya, being a plain, old human girl, could not.  So she hefted her guns and continued down the hall, spinning around the corner and bringing the pistols up.

At the end of the hall, she spotted the stairwell leading up to the next floor and a series of doors along the right of the hall.  Moving down the hall slowly, she kept her eyes on the doors.  Most of them were closed and she couldn’t hear any sounds coming from within.

One of the doors was slightly ajar and as she passed, she glanced in.  As her eyes fell onto the room’s interior, Nadya froze.  She knew she had to keep moving if she wanted to live through getting her revenge, but she found it impossible.

Through the couple inches of space that the door had been opened, Nadya saw a setting that was all too familiar to her.  Finally, she managed to get herself moving again, but instead of traveling past the door, she moved towards it.  Using the barrel of one of her pistols, Nadya pushed the door further open, revealing even more of the interior of the room.

Memories flooded through her mind and her most intimate regions throbbed with pain.  She stood inside the room where she’d been the night before.

The torture room.

Her eyes went distant as the feelings she’d experienced in the room came back to her.

She’d almost died in that room.

And you would have if it hadn’t been for Ulbrecht.

That voice again, pointing out the obvious.

And Nadya hardly heard it, her mind so focused on what had been done to her.  She saw the rotating table she’d been strapped to; the dark stains of her dried blood still on it.  The tools Remy had used on her were still spread out over the table beside the one she’d been bound to.  As if he’d left everything right where it had been, waiting for her return so they could pick up where they’d left off.

It’s never fucking happening
, she thought, her jaw clenching tightly.

She could sense Bridget behind her and forced the wave of emotions flowing through her out before turning to face her.

“You know.  What he did to me here?”

Bridget shook her head, but she didn’t look all that confused.  It was fairly obvious what had transpired in the room.  “I can imagine.”

“No,” Nadya replied quickly, the emotion flooding her voice.  She took a breath and calmed herself.  “No.  You can’t imagine.”

“What he did to Doyle – ” Bridget started, trying to compare the situations to each other.

“Did he shove a piece of metal into his dick and put electric shocks through it?” Nadya asked.

Bridget was silent for a few moments.  “No, but…”

“I’m sorry Remy ripped your boyfriend apart,” Nadya cut her off again, although she didn’t really sound all that sorry.  “But if that’s all he did to him, it doesn’t even begin to compare to what he did to me in the way of pain.  Not to mention…”

Her voice faded off as she thought of the mental tortures he’d put her through.

“What?”

She blinked and turned back to Bridget, wanting to leave the room as quickly as possible.

“Nothing.  It doesn’t matter.  He’s tortured us both in different ways.  Now let’s return the fucking favor.”

She left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.  Maybe once they found Remy, they could drag him back down here and she could really return the favor.  “You got a keen sense of smell, right?”

Bridget nodded.  “And hearing.”

“You smell or hear anything that’d make you think there’s someone hiding down here?”  Nadya didn’t want to head upstairs and leave a potential threat hiding behind them.

Bridget shook her head.  “No, all I can smell down here is blood and dust.  Which isn’t really surprising, given what this lower level is used for.”

“Then we head upstairs,” Nadya said, starting towards the steps.  She was anxious to start killing.  The rat people down in the sewer and the werewolves on the motorcycles hadn’t really counted.

That had been pure defense.  She wanted to start her revenge.  According to some ancient proverb, it was supposed to be a dish best served cold.  Coming from an orphanage and then the streets of Moscow, Nadya was used to eating plenty of cold meals, but she much preferred the hot ones.

And this was a meal she planned to eat even as the steam rose from it.

She expected she’d suffer a few burns on the inside of her mouth, but the taste would be so exquisite that she didn’t much care.

“I should go first,” Bridget said as Nadya reached the bottom of the stairs.  “They won’t be alarmed to see me.  I can give you a warning if there’s someone there.”

Nadya paused and thought about it.  The woman could be lying to try and help save her wolfy friends from a painful death.  Giving a shrug, she stepped aside and let Bridget move past her, figuring that even if that was the case, all it would mean was one more dead werewolf.

Following behind Bridget, she crouched down, moving silently up the steps, keeping her guns held at the ready.  As they reached the closed door at the top of the stairs, Bridget turned and looked back at her, giving a slight nod.  Nadya returned it and watched the redhead open the door and slip through, pushing it mostly closed behind her.

Nadya stepped up to it, listening hard against the door, waiting to see if she was about to get fucked.

It was only a moment before she heard muffled voices on the other side of the door.  She leaned closer against the door, pressing her ear against the hard wood of it, trying to make out the words.  The tone sounded casual, but that didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot.

Letting her eyes slide closed, Nadya concentrated on deciphering the voices.

One was definitely Bridget’s.

The other she didn’t recognize, which wasn’t much of a surprise, really.  It was definitely male.

As she continued to listen, she understood the words more.

” – thought you were supposed to be on patrol for that Russian cunt that Remy’s after.”  That was the male voice.

“Fuck that,” Bridget replied.  “I was out there for an hour freezing my ass off looking for that bitch.  Finally said, the hell with her and came back.  The others’re still out there.”

“That’s not gonna make Remy happy, Bridget,” the male shot back, his voice cautionary.

“The fuck do I care about his happiness for, eh?” Bridget replied, clearly annoyed.  “Fucker killed Doyle.  Not to mention, the cocksucker’s not even a werewolf anymore.  He’s a goddamn vampire.  Last I checked, this clan didn’t care too much for those things, so what the fuck makes him so special?”

“Remy’s in charge now, Bridget,” the man replied, his voice still having that cautionary tone to it.  “Vampire or not.  You should keep that in mind, unless you want to end up just like Doyle.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bridget said, clearly angry.  “You’re all just a bunch of neutered puppy dogs, ain’t ya?  Well, I’m not going to keep taking his shite.  And if you all aren’t going to help me take him down, I guess I’ll just have to do it my own way.”

The man’s voice seemed to become amused at Bridget’s outburst.  “What, you?  Against Remy and the rest of us?  I had heard you red-headed Irish bitches were nuts, but I didn’t realize you lot were that fucking nuts…”

“Oh, I’m nuts, alright.  I’m bloody psychotic, motherfucker,” Bridget said, her voice low but deadly.  “And I’m not the only one…”

Taking that as her cue, Nadya shoved the door open and lifted her pistols up.  Bridget’s back was to her, standing about two feet in front of a skinny guy with a goatee and long, brown hair.  He was dressed in black slacks and a white button-up shirt.

Nadya watched his line of sight shift from Bridget over the redhead’s shoulder to Nadya.  His eyes went wide with surprise.  “Holy Mary, mother of fuck!”

Without even glancing behind herself, Bridget dove to the side, clearing the way for Nadya.

The Russian smirked.  “Incorrect.  I’m Nadya Valentina.  Mother of fucking you up.”

She unloaded silver bullets from her twin pistols into his chest.  Crimson flowers exploded out of the man’s white shirt as he fell backwards.  By the time Nadya’s pistols clicked empty, there wasn’t any white left to the man’s shirt.  He collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap, unmoving.

Reloading swiftly, Nadya slipped both guns back into her shoulder holsters and reached to her side, grabbing hold of the handle of her katana.  Sliding it free of its sheath, she brought it around in front of her.

Stepping up to the currently dead werewolf, Nadya lifted the sword over her head and then brought it down swiftly.  The blade cut into the man’s neck, slicing clean through it and letting his head roll away from the rest of his body.

One less werewolf she had to worry about coming back as a vampire to get revenge.

As she slid her sword back into its sheath, Nadya could hear the yells of other werewolves in the building.  She looked over to Bridget to see if she had any more ideas.

Bridget had stepped up to her as she’d cut the dead werewolf’s head off.  Her emerald eyes lifted up to Nadya’s as she turned back to her.  The Russian’s expression and the sound of the approach of the others made it clear what she wanted to know.

“Ball room.  It’s close by and plenty of open space.  Won’t have to worry about getting cornered.”  She quickly moved past Nadya and led the way.

Nadya followed along behind, drawing her pistols again.  As she moved, she found herself thinking of only one thing and she fought the urge to chuckle.

The image of werewolves ballroom dancing that invaded her mind was just too ludicrous.  She hoped they’d run across something else to kill soon so she could get rid of it.