The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (2 page)

He rolled onto his back, staring up the steps with eager eyes. He watched as a stone door slid down over the opening, blocking out the only light in the chamber inch-by-inch. Ramon’s eyes widened in horror. Before he could get to his feet and up the steps, the door closed with a stony crunch.

And he was dumped in pitch blackness.

He jumped to his feet. “Hey!” he shouted up toward that closed door. His voice bounced back at him; it was loaded with fear.

Everything turned deathly silent. He stood for a few moments in the darkness, his whole body trembling. The air was dank, musky. The strong stench of death enveloped it all; an aroma Ramon was well acquainted with.

What now?
he asked himself.

He turned in a confused semi-circle. He licked his lips. “Mama?” he asked the darkness. He was answered by silence.

“Mama,” he repeated, this time trying to inject authority into his voice. His words rebounded off the surrounding walls. “Your son is here. Come to greet me. I command you!” He held his hands out to the sides as if awaiting an embrace. But nothing came. Only the sound of his hot breath in his ears.

“Mama!” he repeated with more force, his hands balled into fists, his fear suddenly displaced with anger. Anger at her lack of co-operation. She should come to greet her loyal disciple, not leave him alone in the dark like a chump. “Mama, come to me. I command you!”

A loud hiss split the silence. He spun in its direction, his ears pricking. More gas-like hissing then erupted, this time from all angles. Ramon whirled in a breathless circle, the dark hindering his view, that hissing resonating all around him now.

Something slithered over his feet; fat and meaty. His eyes shot downward and he hopped back in disgust.
What the hell?

The hissing grew louder; it reverberated in his mind. As the seconds passed, it intensified. His bulging eyes rolled in the pitch-black.

His fight or flight sense triggered; he knew danger. And he knew what to do. He turned on his heels, but, before he could escape, something cold and slick wrapped around his ankle, almost tripping him. He tried to run, but the thing coiled around his lower leg, pulling him back. He groaned and yanked in the opposite direction, but the thing held firm. It wrapped around his thigh, then made it up to his waist, where it squeezed.

A horrified gasp escaped him. But, it was cut short as something thick and scaly like heavy rope slipped around his chest and tightened his rib cage. He fought against it, trying to push it off him, but it was too heavy, too slippery. It had him snared like an animal.

Fight! Fight!
he screamed to himself. He began thumping the thing, but it was like hitting thick rubber. His fists bounced off it without making any impact.

He went to rain in some more blows, when another one coiled around his free leg; it slid up his body, making that hissing sound.

The horror of a forked tongue slid across his cheek.

Then, from nowhere, lots of them wrapped around his body; one, two, three, four. They bound themselves to any free limbs and splayed him like a scarecrow, his arms held out to the sides in the crucifix position.

Ramon’s mind exploded with terror. He’d been lied to. Deceived. Mama Magdalena was not here to greet him, only these creatures were. It was a trap. How could he have been such a bitch? Believing in those
putas
up there? All along they wanted to kill him. An assassination, pure and simple. A trick by a rival gang.
Los Lagartos? N-9?
San Miguel Cartel?
Whoever it was
,
they got him. Got him good.

Pain tore through him as fangs penetrated first his clothes then skin. There was an intense pulling sensation as they sucked on his veins. It stopped for a moment; then, a squirt as something was injected back in. It shot up into his brain, clouding his mind in majestic elation, the pain numbed and malformed into intense pleasure. It rolled across his mind like a thick blanket, enveloping it in a soothing euphoria. His whole body became light like he was floating in space; it was better than any hit of any coca he’d ever had.

He was forced to ride the wave, still conscious of the fangs repeatedly biting and sucking from all angles; pleasure belied by brutal agony. Lightheadedness overcame him like standing from a hot bathtub. He was losing too much blood, too fast in the feeding frenzy; any longer and he knew he’d be dead. He wanted to shout out, to scream, the pleasure of the venom flowing through him a contradiction, shutting down his vocal chords; it was like they’d been severed.

Mama, save me. Save me,
he begged in his mind.
Where are you, Mama? Why have you betrayed me?

The promise had been a deceit; an act of treachery played upon his soul. He was nothing but a bitch. A realization worse than death itself.

“Help me, Mama...”
he managed to squeeze out of his constricted chest.

But it was too late. He was alone, and trapped.

A hot pair of fangs dug deep into his throat.

And only then did he begin to scream.

CHAPTER TWO

V
incent stuffed Leviah’s fangs into his pocket and spun away from the apocalyptic-like skies outside the smashed windows of the I-Sore Tower. His eyes fell on Trixie, who was sprawled across the floor, her eyes zoning in and out of consciousness. “We’d better get out of here,” he declared, his eyes flicking toward Dom.

A rumble of thunder built up to a crescendo high above them; it shook the whole room like a quake.

Dom grabbed Trixie’s dart gun and checked it. “Wasn’t planning on staying, Vincent,” he retorted.

Vincent marched over to Trixie and bent down beside her. “Trixie, Trixie,” he repeated into her ear, giving her shoulder a shake.

Her bleary eyes focused in on him, then went again.

“She’s not with us at all,” Vincent stated. “I’ll have to carry her.”

“I’ll get her if you want, Vincent.”

Vincent shook his head. “No, no. Your reflexes are sharper than mine. You take care of any remaining thugs or vampires.”

Dom nodded, just as a bolt of lightning lit up the chamber.

“Call... Mack...” Trixie then managed to squeeze out. “See... if he’s... still on the roof.” She had her hand outstretched, her phone clutched in it.

Dom grabbed her phone. He dialed for Mack. He soon got an answer.

“Yeah!”
came a crackly reply, the heavy sound of rotors in the background.

“Mack! It’s Dom. You still on the roof, buddy?”

“I had to leave cause some varmints tried to jump me. I’m circling the building now.”

“Hang tight, we’ll meet you up on the roof.”

“Okay, but be quick, there’s a mother of all storms brewing.”

“Gotcha. We’ll be up in a sec.” Dom hung up, then turned to Vincent, who was easing Trixie off the ground. Vincent winced as he straightened first his knees and then his back. Trixie’s body lolled between his trembling hands.

“You all right?” Dom asked him.

“I’ve got her. Now, let’s go!”

Dom led the way. He darted for the empty elevator; Nixon was half-hanging out of the adjacent one, still in the land of dreams. Dom pushed the call button. Nothing happened. He pressed it repeatedly. “Come on! Come on!” he urged, but nothing. The elevators were out.

He turned away in disgust. “Crap!”

“We’ll just have to take the stairs,” Vincent said, his face starting to redden. A clap of thunder rocked the room, making Dom duck.

“What is all that?” he asked Vincent.

“The heralding of a chain of events beyond anyone’s control,” Vincent said in a grim voice. “The outcome of which is uncertain.”

Dom’s jaw went slack. “
Holy crap
.
”

“Indeed. Let’s go.”

“Yeah.” Dom led Vincent through the Japanese blinds, out of Leviah’s chamber and out to the stairwell beyond. Dom grabbed the door handle to the stairwell, licked his lips, then threw it open, his dart gun at the ready. The landing was clear. “Blacklake must have bailed,” Dom said over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Vincent replied. “Now that their source of income has expired, they’ll be looking for a new paymaster.”

“There!” a gruff voice shouted. Dom’s head twitched. An unarmed Blacklake was on the steps leading up to the next floor, pointing his way.

“Looks like I spoke too soon!” said Dom. He shot off a few swift tranqs; one hit the wall behind the merc, the other went straight into his bullet-proof vest, but the third hit home, jabbing him in his thick neck. The thug’s legs buckled; he slumped back, before crumpling down the steps. Boots then stomped on vinyl. A second later, bodies came into view on the stairwell.

Dom puffed his cheeks. “Wait here!” he ordered Vincent. He stepped out into the landing and allowed the door to close behind him, locking Vincent out. He shoved the barrel of his dart gun through the banister railings and aimed upward. The moment their legs came into view, he fired off tranqs, catching them in the calves and thighs. The legs of the leading thug collapsed like bent straws and he tumbled down the stairs. The other swiftly followed, stumbling over his buddy and smashing face first onto the landing below.

Dom winced. “Hope you’re covered for dental work,” he said to the thug. He waited a few seconds, hoping there were no more Blacklake about to attack. He was greeted with the low rumble of thunder like a bassline vibrating the sidewalk outside a nightclub. He turned and swung the door open. Vincent was still standing there, Trixie in his arms as if she were his bride.

“Coast’s clear,” Dom told him.

“Good work, young man.”

Dom held the door open for Vincent, then took the lead. “Watch your feet,” Dom warned, pointing at the pile of tranqed-up bodies on the ground as he stepped over them and made his way up the flight of steps.

Vincent took a big step over the first thug, the extra effort causing him to let out a small moan. Trixie groaned and mumbled something incoherent to herself as he hopped over the others and started up the steps. Vincent clenched his teeth as he heaved himself up them. “I’m really too old for this kind of adventure.”

“You’re not the only one,” Dom said, making it up to the landing of ninety-eight.

Vincent then stumbled; Dom threw out his free hand, managing to grab hold of Vincent’s shoulder just before he fell back down the steps. “Woah there!” Dom said, his eyes widening. He steadied Vincent before helping him up to the landing.

Vincent took a glance over his shoulder; the steps stared back at them all like a rocky mountain-side. Vincent gulped in trepidation.

“You better give her to me,” Dom suggested.

Vincent gave him a vehement nod. “I think you’re right.”

Dom reached out and delicately took Trixie off Vincent’s hands. Vincent breathed a sigh of relief. Trixie moaned something, her eyelids fluttering.

“We’ve got to get her back home,” said Vincent.

“We’ll get her home. First we gotta get out of this hellhole.” Dom eased Trixie’s feet onto the ground and gently pushed his shoulder into her midriff, allowing to her fall over it. He then stood upright, taking her weight; her head and arms flopped down his back, her legs dangling down his front. He gripped her tight, his dart gun in his free hand. Now he could carry her and fight at the same time.

“Let’s go,” he said, before turning and heading up the next flight. He gritted his teeth, stomping up the steps as fast and as hard as he could, that rumbling thunder ongoing all around them. Trixie bounced up and down on his shoulder, every step he mounted making her groan. “Hang in there, Trixie,” he said to her as he hopped through the door to the ninety-ninth. He found himself back in that gutted out floor where he was first jumped; the one with the bare, bland-white walls, the one Sammy the Saint wanted to convert into a nightclub, which seemed like an age ago.

A crack of thunder shook the room. “I don’t wanna be around when that storm hits,” Dom declared.

“You and me both,” Vincent said as he scuttled ahead and opened the door separating the two parts of the floor. Dom dashed straight in. And stopped dead in his tracks. A Blacklake was in the wide, empty floor space, pressed up against the wall, his face riddled with anxiety. Another clap of thunder rocked the sky above them and he cowered in fear.

This wuss is scared of a little rain.

Dom raised his dart gun in a threatening manner.

The merc twitched his way. His hands shot into the air. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” he begged.

“Get outta here!” Dom ordered. The merc nodded, then turned and scampered for the stairwell Dom and Vincent had just entered through. Dom kept his dart gun trained on him as he shot through the door.

Dom hitched Trixie higher up on his shoulder and got moving again. They made it to the fire escape, their feet clanging on the metal steps leading up to the roof, the sound punctuated by the rumble of ominous thunder.

Vincent led the way. He went to push the roof door open, but a strong gust of wind fought back against him, turning it into a struggle. He gritted his teeth and applied more pressure; this time he won the battle. He flung the door open wide enough for the wind to take over; it threw the door all the way back, exposing the outside world. The rain pounded the concrete roof like machinegun fire. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of helicopter rotors was almost drowned out by the storm.