Nadya's Nights: Road to Vengeance (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Twisting

Popping the top on the second bottle of vodka, Nadya brought it to her lips and tilted it back, taking a long swig from it and letting the alcohol flow into her.  Bringing the bottle away from her lips, she poured a fair amount of the clear fluid over the bite wound on her neck, hissing at the burn of it and letting out a few choice Russian curses.  She quickly took another swig before tossing the bottle aside, smashing it against the wall.  She flicked what remained of her cigarette into the spilt booze and watched it catch fire.  She still felt light headed from blood loss, but she forced herself through it.

The knowledge that if she passed out in the place she’d wind up a blackened corpse helped to keep her moving.

Working her way back the way she’d come, it didn’t take long for her to find the ball room again.  The place was as she left it.

In shambles.

Bridget was where she’d been the last time Nadya had seen her.  Huddled into a fetal position.

A naked, quivering ball of trauma.

Sliding her sword back into its sheath, Nadya approached the woman and knelt beside her.  Bridget’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot from sobbing, staring vacantly outwards.  Placing a hand gently against the woman’s shoulder, Nadya gave her a shake.

No response.

“C’mon,” Nadya said.  “I’m not about to piggyback your ass out of here.  And we really need to get going.”  She gave her a harder shake.

Still nothing.

Sighing, she brought her hand away from Bridget’s shoulder and smacked her hard across the face.

The woman’s teary, emerald eyes blinked and then focused on Nadya.

“The fucking building’s on fire.  Get your shit together.”

Sitting up, Bridget looked down at herself then over to Nadya, confused.  “On fire?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “Where’s Remy?”

“Turning to ash at the moment,” Nadya replied.  “Unless you feel like joining him, we need to leave.”  She rose to her feet and looked around the room.  “Looks like you’ll have to streak.”  She looked back to find Bridget still sitting on the floor, her eyes going distant again.

“I couldn’t avenge Doyle,” she said.  “I couldn’t even defend myself against him.  He showed me things.  Such horrible things.”  More tears fell down her cheeks.  “He trapped me in a nightmare.”

Nadya reached down and hooked a hand under Bridget’s armpit, lifting her to her feet.  “He did the same to me.  He was a real fucking cunt and now he’s a real dead fucking cunt.”

She could smell smoke.

The fire was spreading.

“If you wanna go all useless and catatonic, you can do it once we get out of here.”  She tugged at Bridget’s arm, forcing her to walk forward.  “Now, show me how to get the fuck outta this slaughter house.”

Shaking her head clear, Bridget’s eyes lost the distant look.  Her nose twitched as the smoke billowed into the ball room in thicker clouds.  “This way.”  She broke free from Nadya’s grip and headed for one of the smashed doorways leading out of the room.

Nadya was thankful that they seemed to be heading away from where she’d started the fire.  Racing through an inferno wasn’t something she wanted to do.  Neither was racing back through the sewers with only her sword for protection.

“At least tell me he suffered,” Bridget said as they headed down a hallway.  Her lack of clothing didn’t seem to be bothering her any.

“He suffered.”  Nadya wasn’t bothered by the nudity of others, but she did find it strange how anyone could strut around that way without caring.  It wasn’t that she was self-conscious about her appearance – either clothed or nude – but her body was private.  She didn’t want anyone else seeing it.

She imagined Bridget’s desensitization came from her life as a werewolf. 
If you plan on getting big, bad and furry, you have to take a bit of public nudity along with it.

Nadya was glad she wasn’t a werewolf.

Rounding a corner, they entered the foyer.  The air around them was filled with a layer of smoke.  The fire had to be spreading rapidly.  It didn’t matter.  The exit was right in front of them and once they were outside, they could go their separate ways.  Nadya would have to find her way back to the Maserati then she could return to Vladimir, get patched up and get on with her life.

The ordeal was finally over.

What about Ulbrecht?

The voice!  The damned, fucking voice!  Again!

Nadya cringed and fought the urge to slam her fist into one of the paintings that lined the walls of the foyer.  Instead, she quickened her pace towards the front door, wanting to get out of the place before the voice drove her to run screaming into the raging fire that lurked in the hideout behind her.

Moving past Bridget, she grabbed the handle to the door, turned it, and pulled the door open, stepping out.

The cool night air felt refreshing against her face.  There was a light breeze that made her blonde locks flutter across her forehead.  Moving down the steps leading to the door, she stopped at the curb and lit up another cigarette.  Turning her head, she saw Bridget exiting the hideout behind her.

From the outside, the place looked like an abandoned hotel.  Quite a difference from the well decorated, almost ritzy interior.

Not for much longer
, she thought, seeing the smoke pouring out of the building.  Before long, the whole place would be reduced to ash and burning embers.

Nadya offered Bridget a smoke and she accepted.  Flipping her lighter open, Nadya lit it for her before taking a drag from her own.  “We should probably put some distance between ourselves and this place.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Bridget responded.  “My whole life, everything I owned, was here.”

“Well, then it looks like it’s time to start a new life,” Nadya said, not really all that interested in what Bridget did or didn’t have.  Now that Remy was dead, there was no longer a need for them to remain partners.  She wasn’t going to kill the woman, but she didn’t want her tagging along either.  “I’m sure you could find someone to lend you their clothes.  Your furrier half is quite persuasive.”

Bridget couldn’t help smirking at the comment.  “Hell, I’m pretty sure I could be pretty persuasive as I am,” she said.  “Not a whole lot of blokes who wouldn’t give a lass plenty when she’s naked.”

Nadya turned and gave her a disgusted look.  “I’d rather kill them.”

The redhead laughed.  “Hey, do you think you could give me a ri – “

Her sentence was abruptly cut short as a distant gunshot ended in a red flower blossoming between Bridget’s pale breasts.  Jaw dropping and brow furrowing into a hurt, confused expression, she looked down at the bullet hole that had just been drilled into her chest and through her heart.

Nadya stared at the wound as well.  She hadn’t been the one to cause it.  Which meant she wasn’t as safe as she’d thought.

She watched Bridget let out a wet cough, blood spraying from her lips before she collapsed to the ground.  Nadya took a step closer, looking down at her.  She coughed up more blood, looking up at Nadya with pleading eyes.

“I don’t… w-want… to… be a.. v-vamp…”  Her last ragged breath passed her lips and her eyes went blank.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Nadya spun, reaching for one of her pistols.  Her movements faltered as she set eyes on the woman approaching.  It was almost like looking in a mirror.  The same blonde hair, cut in a similar fashion.  The same eyes, maybe a bit less haunted, but the color and shape were virtually identical.  Even the way she walked, like a predator, seemed to be a mimicry of Nadya.

The shock of seeing what could only be referred to as her double stalled Nadya’s hand as she reached for her pistol.  In the moment of hesitation, the near-twin raised her own pistol, aiming it directly at Nadya and pulling the trigger.

Sharp pain stabbed into her left breast and for a moment she thought she was about to be as dead as Bridget.  As her eyes focused on the upraised weapon, she saw how it looked different than a normal gun.  Looking down, she saw a dart sticking out of her chest.

Numbness spread outwards from the impact site.  She grabbed hold of the dart, yanking it free and tossing it aside, then tried to go for her gun again.  Her fingers were clumsy with the drug pumping through her veins.  She managed to slip the pistol free from its holster before promptly dropping it to the ground.

She fell in slow motion, her eyes still locked on the alternate version of herself standing before her, tranq gun now lowered to her side.  It was during her slow motion decent that she realized she’d seen the woman before.

But where?

The feeling of her back slamming into the ground took several seconds to register in Nadya’s drugged brain.  Now all she could see was the night sky up above.  Her eyelids grew heavy but she forced them open again as she saw the other blonde woman standing over her.

Her lips tried to form the questions racing through her mind.

Who are you?

Why are you doing this?

Where the fuck did you come from?

But her lips were numbed – along with the rest of her body – and she couldn’t get them to work right.

Three men came up behind the blonde woman.  One had a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Hell of a shot, Drago,” the woman said, eyeing Bridget’s corpse.

It was getting hard for Nadya to hear things, but the voice or – more specifically – the Russian accent, only worked to further perplex her.

“We need to finish it, though.”  The woman looked back down at Nadya then to the hilt of the katana strapped to her side.  She smiled.  “Mind if I borrow that?”

Nadya’s only reply was a soft groan which had started life as her attempt at saying, “Stay the fuck away from me, you freaky bitch!”  But the drug was ravaging her, making it hard to stay conscious, let alone respond intelligibly.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” the woman said, still smiling.  Using her foot, she pushed Nadya onto her side, her body so much dead weight.  Her head hung loosely on her shoulders and as she was tipped onto her side, her eyes fell on Bridget’s body.  Despite the fact that she really didn’t have much of an attachment to the woman, she felt sorry for her.

Her sword was pulled free of its sheath and then Nadya was knocked flat on her back again.  Her evil pseudo-twin now had her sword, stepping over her limp form to get to Bridget’s.  As darkness crept in on her vision, Nadya heard the distinct sound of the sword swishing through the air before meeting, and cleaving through, flesh and bone.

Well, looks like you’re getting your wish
, Nadya thought. 
You’re not gonna be a vampire.

Her eyes fluttered closed, unsure of whether or not she was next to be dismembered or if her almost-double had more sinister plans in store for her.

Just before the drugs knocked her out, she found her thoughts turning to Ulbrecht.  The annoying voice wasn’t saying anything and somehow that only made it worse.

As the blackness consumed her completely, the thoughts followed along, dancing across the insides of her eyelids.  And just before all thinking became impossible for her, the voice decided to speak up one last time.

You’re totally in love with him…

Nadya hoped they planned on chopping her up.  At least it would put an end to that fucking voice.

SPREADING THE BLAME

The time has come to effectively and rightly call out those others who are responsible for the novel you’ve just finished reading.

Blame Glukoza for inspiring the visual aesthetic of Nadya as a character.  Blame Ryan Khatam (creator of the game Johnny Rocketfingers) for inspiring me to begin Nadya’s journey with a brutal bar brawl.

Blame Brandi and Bryce for being the first ones to read Nadya’s tales as I wrote them out and posted them on LiveJournal all those years ago and, in turn, encouraging me to continue working on it.

Blame Gramps for stumbling onto the second draft of Nadya as I was posting it on my WordPress and falling in love with the character.  He said she was a chick who didn’t take crap and kicked a lot of butt and he was not wrong.

Blame Celldweller for becoming the unofficial soundtrack to practically the entire damn book, inspiring me to craft all the fast paced action insanity.

Blame Britt, Stanfield, and Mitch for believing in Nadya and encouraging me to keep on fighting for her.

Blame Morgan for how nice this book looks on the outside, double down on blaming Bryce for the awesome logo, blame Jeff for writing me a splendid foreword, and blame Stanfield again for how nice it looks on the inside.

Blame everyone who’s liked, shared, commented, voted, or otherwise shown Nadya some love on Facebook and elsewhere.

Blame Nadya for never shutting up and continuously kicking me until I told her tale and got it out into the world.

And finally, as always, blame yourselves for picking up, purchasing, and reading this book.  Stay strapped in.  We’ve only just begun.

- Indy McDaniel (February 2015)