The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (40 page)

"The ninety-seventh," Sammy told her.

"Good. I'll be right up."

"Okay."

The radio went dead. Sammy whirled around to face Leviah. "I don't trust her. She plays tricks. Like what she did in the lobby."

Leviah shrugged. "Maybe she's finally come to her senses. She's grown tired and realized the only way out is to give us what we want."

"I still don't trust her."

"Really, what can she do? You're armed; she's alone. Get ready for her, if she tries anything, take her down. Simple."

Sammy gave him an unsure nod before retrieving his gun and pulling back the slide. He got on his radio. "Clear the express elevators," he ordered. "Put the code in to allow for the ninety-seventh. She's coming up."

"Got it."

Sammy lowered his radio and tightened his grip on his gun. He gave Leviah a nod of his head. "Get over to the elevator," he ordered the other mercs still in the room. All of them marched over to the elevator and huddled around it, their guns pointed its way.

"
G
et ready for this bitch," Sammy said. "She's tricky."

The panel on the elevator began counting up from twenty-nine.

Twenty-nine?
Sammy thought to himself with mild concern.
Meatpack Food Solutions?

The number on the panel turned 30, then 40, obliterating that thought. He needed to be focused. This bitch could be trying anything. They needed to be on their game. He eyed the others; they were acting cautious, their guns pointing right at the elevator doors. The panel read 50. Then 60. Sammy gulped. His radio then went off.
"Boss,"
came the voice.

Sammy threw the radio up to his lips. "Not now!" he growled and slammed it back down by his side once more. He licked his lips, his eyes wide and focused on the elevator.

The panel read 70.

By then, Leviah had risen from his recliner and joined them; he stood at the back of the small throng, hands on hips.

80. Sammy steeled himself; he closed one eye and aimed his gun at the doors.

90.

"Get ready!" he said.

95. 96. 97--

The elevator pinged.

"Brace yourselves!"

The doors then slid open.

Sammy's eyes widened. Nixon's bulky frame spilled out of the elevator, his hands slapping on the wooden floor beyond like dead fish. Sammy jumped back, his gun aimed at Nixon's head. "Whu--" he blurted in shock.

Nixon murmured something before he droned into a chorus of loud snoring. The elevator doors then closed, hit Nixon in his torso, then opened again.

Sammy stared in confusion at Nixon's unconscious body before he scanned the elevator beyond. It was empty. He gulped, then turned and rolled sheepish eyes up toward Leviah. Leviah glowered down at him.

Sammy shrugged. "Sorry, boss."

Leviah's look of thunder melted into a huge grin. Laughter then erupted from his chest. He slapped his thigh and pointed at Nixon. "Look at him!" Leviah said between fits of hearty laughter.

Nixon just lay there snoring, the elevator doors opening and closing on him.

Sammy joined in the laughter, even though he was full of fear. "Yeah, look at that chump."

Leviah let out a final emphatic laugh. "You know, I'm actually beginning to like your daughter, Slayer," he said out loud over his shoulder, his stare still fixed on Nixon. "She's got a sense of humor I like. On second thoughts, maybe I shouldn't kill her. Maybe instead I should recruit her." He nodded. "Yes, she'd make a fine addition to the Order. She has a certain...
je ne sais quoi
, a refinement, a strong sense of survival." He turned away from Nixon, giving him a final look of disgust and headed back toward his recliner, Sammy following up.

"She has more heart than you could ever imagine," Vincent said to Leviah's back as he walked past, his voice loaded with stoicism and pride. "She'll never give in."

On reaching his recliner, Leviah turned to face Vincent. "Oh, I don't expect her to." He picked up his glass of blood and drank deep. He gasped in satisfaction, a smile flittering across his face. "You know, I'm actually feeling a little...
excited
." He uttered the final word with a gleam in his eye. "But, only just a little," he added, the gleam soon fading. He sat up in his seat. "Sammy!" he barked.

Sammy came running over. "Yes, boss."

"Now that the good general is out of action for the evening, how many men have we got left?"

Sammy shrugged. "Not sure."

"Well, however many it is, get them to step up their hunt. I want every floor of this building combed. Let's see how good she really is." Leviah stared past them all at the elevator as he spoke. Nixon's prone body remained where it was. "And do something about that oaf's snoring will you?"

"Yes, boss," Sammy replied before he got on his phone.

Leviah let out a small sigh. "This is where the fun really begins," he said with a menacing grin.

Sammy strode to the Japanese blinds with purpose. He got back on his radio to give orders.

"Boss!"
a frantic voice shouted through the radio.
"Okay to speak now?"

Sammy groaned. "Yeah, what was it you wanted?"

"Both express elevators were moving at the same time."

Sammy stopped. "What?"

"Yeah. Both elevators were on the move."

Sammy's eyes widened. "The sneaky bitch!"

"What do you want us to do?"

"What do you think, asshole?" Sammy raged into his radio. "Go after her!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

T
rixie sent Nixon on his way before jumping into the adjacent express elevator which was ready and waiting for her. She knew she was taking a big risk, but hopefully both elevators running simultaneously would create enough confusion to open up a window. By the time they realized what was going on, she'd be a lot closer to the ninety-seventh.

The doors slid shut and she pushed the button for the ninety-fifth floor. As Nixon's elevator was already on its way up, she was playing catchup. She checked her watch. She gave herself twenty seconds max. That way she could still make it out of the elevator before they could lock it down. She just hoped she could get out in time before they did. It was risky, but boy would it would help. A lot.

The elevator began its ascent. She watched the panel with anxious eyes. It went from 30 to 31 to 32 in no time. Soon, it was up to 37. She guessed Nixon would be around fifty-five/sixty by now, give or take. Her legs started trembling; she half-expected to see the panel change at any moment, either going into lockdown or reversing back down to the lobby. But the way she figured, with Nixon out of the game, the chain of command would be sent into haywire; no one knowing what to do. The buffoons making up the bulk of Blacklake are great at taking orders, not so hot on making them. Nixon must have known where she was because of the cameras. She spotted one pointed at the elevators in the lobby of Meatpack Food Solutions. She wasn't prepared to make that mistake again, so she snuck up to it and smashed it down off the wall, putting it out of commission before she got to work hauling Nixon's ass to the elevator. That way, no one could see what she was up to.

She began rocking on her heels, that sensation of her life out of her own hands sneaking up on her. "Come on, come on," she kept repeating to herself, biting her lower lip, her eyes fixed on that panel. 42. She kept contemplating on when to bail. Now? Wait? If she waited too long, she risked being snared by Blacklake. Bail too early and she'd miss a golden chance to scale most of the building. It was a dilemma, a heart
-
stopping dilemma. She wrung her hands to the point of wearing her knuckles to bone, her unblinking stare fixed on that panel above the doors. In no time, 44 became 48. She guessed Nixon would be at around sixty-five-ish. They'd be congregated by the elevator doors on the ninety-seventh, guns at the ready; ready to plaster her with bullets. There was no way they were gonna let them all just walk away. No way. And after what she saw in Meatpack Food Soltuions, there was no way she wanted to negotiate with them. She wanted them dead. All of them.

50.

Exactly halfway.

She checked her watch. She'd been in there for eleven seconds. It felt like eleven hours. The elevator went into a brief rumble like airplane turbulence. Her heart leaped into her throat. The ride smoothed and she blew her cheeks in relief, her eyes still on that panel. 55.

"Come on, come on..." Rocking on her heels.

60.

Nixon at around 80.

Almost there.
Shall I cash in my chips? Hit or twist? Hit or twist?
It was like taking a dare to go wading in crocodile infested waters. Can you make it across without losing a limb?

She checked her watch; 15 seconds had elapsed. She had to think of bailing out very soon. A second or two too much and she could be trapped. But what if she could make it all the way up to the roof then go down from there? That would be ideal. She licked her lips. 65. Her ears popped. Her eyes darted from the panel above the door to the panel inside the door; the number ninety was lit up.
Should I risk it?
Her hazy mind fizzed with uncertainty.
Stick? Twist?
67.
Stick? Twist?
68.
STICK? TWIST?

She let out a tortured shriek and slammed her fist down on the button for the next floor. 72. The elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors slid open. She hopped out of the elevator as if escaping a bomb, her mind caught between relief and regret. The doors slid shut behind her. She watched them go, wondering what might have been. She thought of going back in, but Nixon would have made his entrance at ninety-seven by now. It was too late; they'd be all over the elevators.

She shook her head in disappointment. Even though she'd made it up fifty-odd floors in a matter of seconds
,
she couldn't help but feel like she'd missed an opportunity to make it higher up the building. She stared longingly at the elevator, just as a shiver crawled up her spine like spectral fingers. Her ears pricked. She frowned. An uncomfortable sensation then overcame her. It was as if she were a grazing deer unwittingly caught in the crosshairs of a hunter's rifle. Something wasn't right. She turned around. Up in the corner was a camera. But it wasn't that sending her that sensation. She turned to the left; a glass paneled door lead out to an auditorium; another conference room. Another movie was playing on the giant projector screen at the front, lighting up empty seats and tables, creating lots of shadows. Shadows that appeared to bob and crawl across the carpet.

"More BS," she said to herself, directing her words at the movie. She headed for the door leading out to the auditorium. She wanted to take the stairwell at the other end of the floor, hopefully losing any tracking they might have on her. She pulled open the glass door and entered the empty auditorium. The sign on the far wall indicated the exit. And that's where she headed. She went past the empty chairs and tables, noting they'd been moved around. Another conference interrupted? Maybe.

She didn't care, she just wanted to get going up more flights of stairs. Now that they'd have found Nixon, they'd up their search, and they'd be pissed. She had to keep moving.

As she went, she caught a brief glimpse of the movie playing on the screen. She saw a flickering image of world currency symbols: the Dollar, Pound Sterling, Euro, Yen. They were all streamlined and absorbed into another symbol: a G.
G for what?
She shook her head in confusion.
These Order vamps and their plans. I mean, what--

She stopped. A harsh tingle began to break out in her spine. Her senses heightened. She swore she saw something move in the shadows. The movie continued on its loop, making the shadows bob and weave around the room. She stared intently at the shadows; a shuffle across the carpet made her spin.

Something was definitely moving in the darkness. She wasn't alone.