Soul Meaning (A Seventeen Series Novel: An Action Adventure Thriller Book 1) (25 page)

I stepped over the dead men and entered the stairwell. A second group of Hunters appeared on the steps above me. Frustration gnawed at my insides; with every second that passed, Burnstein got farther away, along with the virus and the vaccine.

I sheathed the wakizashi and held the katana in a double-handed grip.

Bullets scored the ground and pinged off the metal banister as I bolted up the stairs. A couple of slugs struck my vest. I grunted and forged ahead, the sword carving a lethal path through the smoke-filled space.

I reached the next landing and opened the fire door. My heart thudded in my chest. I threw myself to the side.

A grenade shot from the rocket launcher shouldered by the Crovir Hunter fifteen feet ahead skimmed the air inches from my flank and detonated against the opposite wall. I hugged the floor and covered my head as debris riddled the stairwell. Something slashed across the back of my left hand. Bricks and chunks of concrete thudded around me.

Gray billows choked the air in the aftermath of the explosion. Ears still ringing from the blast, I used the cover of the dense cloud and crawled through the doorway.

Gunshots erupted ahead of me. The shadows shifted.

I sheathed the swords and raised the Smith & Wesson in a steady grip, my finger on the trigger.

‘It’s me,’ said Victor.

Anatole and Bruno appeared next to him in the clearing haze. The body of the Crovir Hunter with the grenade launcher lay on the ground behind them.

‘We found a pass for the lift,’ said Anatole. He observed the wreckage of the stairwell with a grin. ‘You’ve been busy.’

‘Have you seen Burnstein?’ I said urgently, climbing to my feet.

‘No,’ said Victor. ‘We just got here.’

We found a second exit on the opposite side of the building.

‘They’ve cleared the labs,’ I said when we stopped in front of the fire escape. ‘Whatever they’ve got, they’re carrying inside some silver cases.’

Victor looked over his shoulder in the direction of the damaged stairs. ‘Our friends will have to find another way up.’

I nodded and opened the door.

The staircase on the other side was ominously silent, the gunfire from the floors below barely audible through the concrete walls. We started cautiously up the steps to the final landing.

A single door stood at the top. It was made of reinforced steel. No noise escaped from beyond it.

As Anatole reached for the handle, a familiar whine suddenly reached my ears.

‘Wait!’ I hissed.

Understanding dawned on Victor’s face. ‘Get down!’ he yelled.

We threw ourselves to the ground just as the door buckled and splintered under the force of a rocket-propelled grenade. Lethal shards filled the air when it separated from its hinges and smashed into the stairwell. Dust and smoke darkened the space around us.

We darted through the distorted frame onto the thirteenth floor. Muzzles flashed ahead of us. I swapped my gun for the daisho.

Elevators pinged on our right as we worked our way through the clearing cloud, dodging shots and blades from a crowd of Crovir Hunters. The lift doors opened to reveal a horde of Bastian Hunters. Reid and Lacroix were among them.

A storm of bullets erupted across the room. The pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

The Crovirs came in waves, washing over us in seemingly countless numbers. I raced through them, my heartbeat steady and the bloodied blades whirling in my hands. My eyes never left the doors on the other side of the floor.

I reached them just ahead of Victor and Costas.

‘Stand back!’ Victor shouted.

The two nobles raised their guns and shot through the lock. We pushed the doors open.

In the room beyond, Felix Thorne turned and smiled.

The south section of the tower was taken up by an executive suite with a panoramic floor-to-ceiling glass wall offering a distant view of the Washington Monument and the Potomac River. French doors stood open in the middle of the transparent facade.

I froze.

Beyond the suite was a rooftop with a helipad. Burnstein and his scientists were already halfway across it. A pair of twin-engine Bell 222 helicopters descended from the skies and landed in front of the men.

Thorne held my shocked gaze for a heartbeat before walking out onto the terrace to join them.

Blood thrummed furiously in my veins.

‘We mustn’t let them leave!’ I shouted above the noise of the rotors.

‘Right!’ Victor retorted grimly as he studied the Crovir Hunters who stood in our way.

It took far too many precious seconds to carve a path through the wall of immortals. By the time I ran out onto the rooftop, Thorne’s helicopter was lifting off. I sheathed the swords and drew the guns at my hips.

Bullets scored the concrete at my feet. I hit the ground, rolled to one knee, and squeezed the triggers rapidly. Thorne disappeared from view, his helicopter rising toward the sky.

I looked to my left. Burnstein had just finished loading a pair of silver cases onto the floor of the second Bell helicopter. I rose and raced toward the aircraft.

The Crovir’s eyes widened when he saw me. He scrambled inside the cabin and reached for the door. A cry of pain left his lips when a bullet whistled past me and struck his hand.

‘Lucas!’ Reid yelled behind me.

‘
Go!
’ Burnstein screamed in the direction of the cockpit. The Bell 222 rose from the ground.

I holstered the guns and jumped.

My fingers grazed the starboard skid and closed around it. The helicopter pitched slightly. It corrected itself before continuing its ascent. I looked down.

My mouth went dry.

The sky rise dropped rapidly away beneath me. Reid and Victor became distant frozen figures on the rooftop.

I gripped the metal runner with both hands and hauled myself up onto my elbows with a grunt of effort. A faint noise reached my ears above the clatter of the rotors and the rush of blood in my head.

It was the sound of someone cocking a gun.

I glanced up, swore, and swung my body to the left, losing my right hold on the skid.

A volley of bullets missed me by a hairbreadth when Burnstein emptied the magazine of his pistol in my direction. I reached for the Smith and Wesson and fired inside the cabin, the tendons in my left arm screaming with tension while I hung from the belly of the aircraft.

A scream of rage erupted from within the helicopter. I smiled savagely, holstered the gun, renewed my grip on the landing gear, and pulled myself up.

The din of an approaching helicopter suddenly rose on my left. I caught a glimpse of a large black and silver UH-1 chopper with the words “FBI” blazoned in white on its side. I was inside the cabin of the Bell 222 a second later.

I almost fell out again when a bullet slammed into my vest. I gripped the edges of the door, ignored the cowering scientists to my right, and staggered across the floor toward Burnstein.

Both his hands bore gunshot wounds. Despite this, the Crovir noble was frantically trying to reload the weapon on his lap. He raised it just as I reached him and froze.

The tip of the wakizashi dented the skin at the base of his throat.

‘Don’t,’ I said coldly.

A fierce grimace crossed Burnstein’s face. His finger flexed on the trigger. A gasp left his lips.

Below the wakizashi, the katana had pierced his heart.

As his eyes turned dull, the blast from a rocket-propelled grenade caused the aircraft to swerve violently.

I hit the wall of the cabin with my back and cursed. The FBI helicopter had fired at the Bell 222 in an attempt to force its pilot to land.

I sheathed the swords and was reaching under the dead man’s seat for the silver cases when dazzling brightness bloomed next to the aircraft.

The UH-1 exploded in a giant ball of fire.

The shockwaves from the detonation wrapped around the Bell 222 and sent it spinning on its axis. Alarms sounded from the direction of the cockpit. The pilot swore.

I found myself on the floor, the handle of a case in each hand. I crawled to my knees and stared through the open starboard door in dull incomprehension.

The Roosevelt Island was a splash of autumnal reds and yellows against the dark waters of the Potomac River below. A hundred feet away, Felix Thorne sneered at me from the second Bell helicopter. The Crovir Hunter crouched on one knee next to him finished reloading the rocket launcher on his shoulder.

Burnstein’s pilot must have seen the other aircraft, for the helicopter suddenly dove sharply. My stomach lurched. The river grew alarmingly close, then disappeared; we flew low over a busy highway.

Buildings materialized ahead of us. The pilot pulled up abruptly.

Seconds later, a missile left Thorne’s helicopter and exploded about a dozen yards from the tail rotor of the Bell.

The aircraft rotated violently. The pilot cursed again. The shadow of a sky rise loomed on our left.

The rotors struck the wall of the glass tower. Silver shards rained inside the cabin as the helicopter scraped alongside the building.

I glanced over my shoulder in time to see another grenade leave the rocket launcher in the second Bell helicopter. Heart hammering wildly against my ribs, I grabbed the silver cases and leapt through the port door.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘W
ow,’ said Anatole. ‘You are
one crazy bastard.’

I winced while a paramedic cleaned the cuts on my face.

I was sitting on a curb some thousand feet from the waters of the Potomac. Half an hour had passed since the Bell helicopter had crashed into a tower next to the Lee Highway. The area of Rosslyn next to the Curtis Memorial Parkway had been closed to traffic. Flashing lights from the county’s fire trucks reflected in the glass facades of the buildings across the road.

A few yards away, McCabe was attempting to pacify the Arlington District Two police commander. By the sound of their raised voices, things were not going well.

‘Here,’ said someone above me.

I looked up and took the Styrofoam container proffered by Reid. A familiar scent reached my nostrils above the rich aroma of coffee wafting from it. I raised my eyebrows. ‘Bourbon?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Where’d you get it from?’

‘A bar up the road,’ Reid replied. He took a sip from his own cup.

The paramedic tending to my wounds glared at us.

‘I’m about to give you a strong painkiller,’ he told me in an admonishing tone. ‘I don’t think you should be drinking alcohol!’

I sighed. ‘I’m fine, really.’

The second paramedic grunted. ‘You just jumped from an exploding aircraft into the twelfth floor of a skyscraper. You should be dead.’

‘Yeah, I get that a lot.’ I ignored their scowls and lifted the container to my lips.

I paused when I saw the man coming up behind them.

‘Can you walk?’ said Victor.

I nodded and shrugged off the blanket around my shoulders before rising to my feet.

‘Thanks,’ I said to the gaping paramedics.

‘Hey, we need to take you to the hospital to get checked out!’ one of them stuttered. ‘I’m sure you broke a couple of ribs. And you probably have a hairline fracture under that gash in your head!’

‘They’ll heal.’ I turned to follow in Victor’s footsteps.

We headed past the smoking wreckage of the Bell 222 and walked to a black van parked further down the road.

Costas was already inside; the Bastian noble was inspecting the contents of the silver cases at his feet.

‘It’s the vaccine,’ he said gruffly when we climbed into the back of the vehicle.

My heart sank at his words. ‘The cases that went with Thorne must have held the virus.’

Victor pressed a hand on my shoulder. ‘You did a good job. We’ll be able to help millions of people with this.’

My hands fisted at my side. ‘Not if they release the virus in the coming days. Anna said it might take a couple of weeks for humans and immortals to develop protective levels of antibodies against it,’ I explained with mounting frustration. ‘Considering what they’ve been capable of to date, it wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to unleash the plague earlier than planned. Besides, Burnstein wasn’t stupid. The Crovirs are bound to have samples of the vaccine elsewhere.’

A somber silence ensued.

‘We have to move fast,’ said Victor, his tone troubled.

Costas frowned at him. ‘You should contact Roman.’

The blare of a phone interrupted us. Victor looked at the number on his cell. His eyes narrowed.

‘Dvorsky here,’ he said curtly into the mouthpiece.

A cold foreboding filled my veins when I saw his expression change.

He disconnected a few seconds later and stared at me blindly, his face pale. ‘The Crovirs have taken the Blue Ridge compound.’

Icy fear drenched my body in sweat.

It was another half hour before we were able to leave Arlington. In the end, it took a private phone call from the Vice-President himself to stop the county commander from arresting us.

‘McCabe’s not too pleased about you taking the bodies away,’ said Lacroix. He watched me climb in a transporter van after Reid. ‘I have to admit, neither am I.’

‘It’s for the best,’ I said distractedly.

The Frenchman observed me for a silent beat. ‘This isn’t the end of the matter, is it?’

I hesitated. ‘No, it isn’t. But I’m afraid we can’t involve you further than this.’ I masked my mounting agitation and looked at him steadily. ‘We got Burnstein at least. He was the main player behind the incidents in Europe.’

Lacroix frowned. ‘Yes, but he wasn’t the leader, was he?’

I shook my head.

He studied me for a while longer before releasing a sigh. ‘Well, good luck.’

I nodded briskly. ‘Will you be talking to your uncle sometime soon?’

Lacroix smiled faintly. ‘Yes. I’ll be sure to tell him the man he trusted as a friend for so many years is not a criminal after all.’

With the convoy doing over a hundred miles an hour, the return to Blue Ridge took less time than our outward journey. The Bastian Hunters inside the van remained silent for the entire trip, their expressions bleak under the dirt and blood still caking their faces.

We spotted the first columns of smoke when we were still two miles out from the compound.

‘Shit,’ said Anatole, staring through the windscreen.

The metal gates guarding the entrance were hanging off their hinges when we pulled up to them. By the looks of the distorted steel plates, rocket grenades had been used to force entry into the complex. We drove through and carried on up the hill.

The first bodies appeared a moment later. We passed three burning SUVs, their deformed carcasses testimony to the fierceness of the battle that had raged in our absence. Fires blazed in most of the outbuildings, the flames licking dangerously close to the surrounding trees.

It was a scene of utter devastation.

We found the largest group of Bastian Hunters at the top of the rise.

Bombs had churned up clods of earth and dug craters into the ground around the main lodge. The walls of the building were riddled with bullet holes. Flames engulfed the upper levels while black smoke billowed from broken windows and the rooftop. Glass cracked and shattered inside.

It was apparent from the destruction that this was where the Bastians had stood their ground as the last line of defense against the enemy.

We exited the vehicles with our guns in hand, even though it was evident the Crovirs had long departed the premises.

A muscle jumped in Victor’s jawline as he stared at the burning building. ‘Damn it!’

‘You said it, boss,’ muttered Anatole.

There was a groan from the porch. One of the fallen Bastians opened his eyes. He blinked slowly at the smoke-filled sky.

Victor ran up the steps and crouched by his side. ‘What happened?’ he asked harshly.

The Hunter licked his lips. ‘They came from nowhere,’ he whispered. ‘There were so many—’ He broke off, rasping coughs racking his frame. A trickle of blood escaped his mouth.

I gripped the Smith and Wesson so tightly that my fingers blanched. ‘The Godards?’

The wounded man looked at me in a daze. ‘The Crovirs took them.’ His gaze shifted to Victor. ‘It was Grigoriye. He let them in.’ His words were barely audible above the muted explosions from inside the building. ‘The man leading the Crovirs was called…Olsson.’

I froze at his words. Victor’s eyes widened. Stunned silence fell across the porch.

‘Grigoriye betrayed us?’ Costas’s eyes were expressionless.

‘Yes,’ the Hunter replied hoarsely.

‘Are you sure?’ said Victor insistently.

The man coughed again and nodded. Cries echoed across the grounds as more Bastian Hunters returned to consciousness.

Victor rose and surveyed the ruins of the compound.

‘Tend to the wounded,’ he ordered quietly. ‘And put out those fires.’

It was another half hour before we managed to piece together the events of that morning. At approximately the same time we started our assault on the Pennsylvania Avenue tower in DC, vast troops of Crovir Hunters led by Olsson had descended upon the Blue Ridge compound in Virginia. From the Bastian Hunters’ accounts, it appeared Grigoriye had disabled the surveillance and communications systems minutes before the Crovirs arrived. The enemy’s targeted movements across the grounds suggested they had had access to detailed maps of the complex.

The Bastian Hunters had been caught completely off guard.

‘We’re online,’ said a Bastian tech. His fingers clattered over the keyboard of the onboard computer in the back of one of the vans. ‘They crashed the system, but we’ve managed to regain access to sixty percent of the network.’

‘Good,’ said Victor. ‘Contact the Council.’

The monitor flickered a moment later. A room appeared on the screen.

Coarse, exposed bricks lined the curved walls of the chamber. The stones were a faded yellow and adorned with swords and shields bearing coats of arms. A sculptured oak table stood in the middle of a flagstone floor. Some twenty figures were seated around it.

By the frowns on their faces, they were not pleased with the interruption. I recognized Victor’s father and several Council members I’d met in Prague.

‘How did things go in Washington?’ said Roman Dvorsky.

‘We were partly successful,’ Victor replied. ‘We have the vaccine, but Thorne got away with the virus. Burnstein is dead.’

Roman was silent for a beat. ‘Did you suffer many casualties?’

‘Nothing that won’t heal,’ Victor retorted. ‘There’s something urgent you need to know, hence my call. The Crovirs attacked the Blue Ridge compound in our absence.’ He glanced at Costas, who stood stiffly next to him. ‘They had help.’

Shocked murmurs rose from the Bastians around the table.

‘It was Grigoriye,’ Victor continued. ‘They took Anna and Tomas Godard. They also destroyed our lab and stole the samples of blood she had been working on to find an alternative cure for the Red Death.’

‘You mean Soul’s blood?’ said Roman, his face ashen.

Victor nodded.

‘But you have their vaccine, don’t you? Then surely it doesn’t matter,’ said the Council member seated to Roman’s right.

‘I’m afraid it does matter a great deal. The Crovirs have already started their inoculation program,’ Victor explained. ‘Even if we were to give the vaccine to every immortal and human in the world today, if they choose to release the virus in the next week, millions will still die.’ He stood back from the screen. ‘And you’re forgetting the most important thing. They now have Anna Godard in their hands. If we don’t stop them soon, Vellacrus’s plan will become a reality in a matter of weeks.’

Unease filtered through my consciousness at the troubled look in Roman Dvorsky’s eyes.

‘About that,’ said the Bastian leader, his voice tinged with evident distaste. ‘There are some among us who believe we should attempt to negotiate a pact with the Crovirs.’

Stony silence descended inside the van.

‘What?’ Victor said stiffly. Costas’s face tightened in a stormy expression beside him.

‘I know,’ Roman murmured apologetically. ‘I’m only expressing the views of a few members of the First and Second Councils.’ His tone hardened. ‘We still have to vote on it, of course.’

Costas leaned toward the monitor.

‘What is this going to achieve?’ he snarled. ‘Vellacrus will never agree to a treaty between our races. That woman wants to exterminate us once and for all!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are some of you so willing to forgive and forget the atrocities she has committed against our kind?’ he hissed. ‘Are you so eager to bow to her for a chance to taste true immortality that you would ignore the fact that she tried to kill our next leader only days ago?’ His voice rose to a roar. ‘And you dare call yourselves Bastians?!’

Victor placed a hand on the immortal’s shaking shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Costas.’

‘It would be wise to listen to Victor and Costas,’ said the Council member next to Roman. ‘I will not have you doubt our allegiance to our race so easily, Costas, although I understand why you would think that way.’ His narrowed eyes darted to several faces around the table. ‘I for one will definitely be voting against the idea of a pact and for swift and aggressive retaliation.’

Victor watched the figures on the screen. ‘When will we have your decision?’

‘Tomorrow at the earliest,’ said Roman. ‘The Council members would like to consult with the nobles under their command.’

I stepped up to the terminal.

‘That’s too long.’ I did not bother to hide the resentment in my voice. Further mutters arose from the Bastians on the screen and frowns clouded several faces when recognition dawned. ‘With or without your help, I’m going after them.’

‘We’ll have an answer for you soon enough,’ snapped a Council member. ‘And do you really think you can take the entire Crovir army on your own, half-breed?’

‘He won’t be alone,’ Costas retorted. He glanced at me. ‘And I guarantee you that all the Bastians here today will follow him without a second thought.’

‘We’ll be mobilizing as soon as we know where they’ve taken the Godards,’ said Victor.

Roman nodded gravely. ‘I trust your judgment. Do what you think is best.’

The screen went blank.

Anatole let out a low whistle. ‘Wow, you sure told them.’ He gazed at Costas in wide-eyed admiration.

The Bastian noble glared at him. ‘This doesn’t mean we’re friends,’ he said gruffly in my direction before storming out of the vehicle.

‘Sure,’ I murmured, studying the disappearing figure.

Victor grimaced and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Don’t take it personally. It took me two hundred years to get him to exchange Christmas greetings.’ He turned to the Bastian tech manning the onboard computer. ‘We need to call in some favors. Is the system fully functional yet?’

The tech nodded. ‘Yes, as of a minute ago.’

‘Good,’ said Victor. ‘I want you to contact this number on a secure line. Put it on speaker phone once you get through.’

Static echoed around the interior of the van when Dimitri Reznak answered the call a couple of minutes later.

His voice came through brokenly. ‘What happened in Washington?’

‘We got our hands on the vaccine. Unfortunately, Thorne got away with the virus.’ Victor frowned. ‘Where are you?’

‘Egypt,’ said Reznak, his voice fading and crackling.

Victor’s eyebrows rose. ‘On Crovir business?’

‘Not quite. Just indulging in one of my pet projects.’

‘Does it have anything to do with matters at hand?’ asked Victor.

‘I’m not sure,’ came the enigmatic answer.

‘The Crovir Hunters stormed our compound in Virginia. They took Anna and Tomas Godard. Do you know where they are?’

Silence rose from the speakers.

‘Dimitri? Are you there?’ Victor asked sharply after a moment.

‘Yes,’ came the quiet reply. The Crovir noble sounded perturbed. ‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

Victor hesitated. ‘Do you think she suspects you?’

‘No. Vellacrus is renowned for keeping her cards close to her chest. This is likely to have been a last-minute strategy. She doesn’t need the approval of the First Council for urgent tactical decisions.’ Static erupted across the line again. ‘—find out what I can—get back to you—’

The transmission ended abruptly. Victor stared at the speakers.