The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (31 page)

“Well, maybe you guys aren’t so bad. You’re freaking crazy, crazy as hell. But, you ain’t
all
bad.”

The chanting grew in fervor. Troy puffed his chest out, enjoying being the center of attention. “Come on, peasants. Give it up!” he demanded.

They began chanting harder.

“Yeah, you know you want to. Give it up, bitches! GIVE IT UP FOR ME!” he boomed.

Troy faced the night sky and released a contented sigh.
I could stand here all night,
he realized with a new sense of thrill.

The mad monks continued to pray unto him; their god, their savior. Troy soaked it up, the power rush slowly but surely beginning to overcome him, everything else now becoming secondary. This was what he had been longing for: power, adulation, respect. He’d reached his zenith, reached his mount Olympus. This was where he deserved to be and where he always should be: praised, worshipped, adored. Forget Chicago and those losers who didn’t know supreme class when they saw it. There he was a nothing, but here, in Latin America, he was a god. El Sanguinario.

Screw Trixie and that other chump. This was
his
time, and he was gonna enjoy it.

They pushed him toward the choppers and he went willingly, the chanting and adulation continuing unabated. As he drew close to the waiting helicopter, something sharp and painful jabbed into his neck. Before he had a chance to say ‘ow’, the world turned dark and drug-induced sleep overcame him.

T
rixie checked her smartphone again. Troy was moving far and fast, heading south. She guessed he must’ve got into a plane or chopper. She realized that chasing by car just wouldn’t cut it. They needed a plane too. Rafa drove them to the bottom of the mountain where Trixie phoned Dad. Even though it was early morning in Chicago, he was wide awake.

“Trixie! Where are you?”
he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“We’re in Mexico. Listen, Dad, we’re gonna need a private jet from Hermosillo airport.”

“Okay, no problem. I’ll get Miranda to make all the arrangements. Did you find Lionel?”

“Lionel’s dead.”

Vincent gasped.
“No! How?”

“The local cartel got him. We teamed up with his daughter, Alicia and helped them get revenge. In return, we got Lionel’s notes on Magdalena.”

“And?”

“We got a lead. Well, Troy got a lead, and we need to follow him, hence why we need the jet.”

“Okay, leave it with me. How’s Dom?”

Trixie looked up to see Dom flirting with Alicia. Trixie’s top lip curled up. “Dom’s fine.”

“Good to hear. Such a shame about Lionel. He was a good man. Those cartels really are a nuisance, aren’t they?”

“That’s putting it mildly, Dad. So, what’s happening up north?”

“Same as when you left. Floods and snakes. We’ve had one of these snakes analyzed at the lab, and, just as I suspected, they’re vampire.”

“Vampire snakes?” Trixie said into the smartphone in a flat voice.

“Yes.”

Trixie sighed. “Dad, you mean to tell me the snakes are vampires?”

“Yes.”

“And they have venom glands?”

“Indeed.”

“And they burn in the sun?”

“Absolutely.”

“Give me a break.”

“It’s true, Patricia! They must have been normal snakes once upon a time and then turned vampiric by manna.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I have a theory.”

“Go on.”

“Magdalena. I’m thinking she’s turning the snakes vampiric and the Chaos Order are releasing them into Chicago.”

“What for?”

“The Great Unveiling, Patricia! I wish you’d believe me. The ultimate goal is to have vampires across the globe thus negating the need to hide in the shadows, but each of the siblings wants their strain of manna to be the one that dominates the rest. When Leviah fell, it left a gap, a gap that the Dragons and the Chaos Orders are trying desperately to fill. The only way to do this is to create as many vampires as possible to use as an army. The best way for the Dragons to do this is to use Leviah’s Ambrosia factory. The Chaos Order, on the other hand, are using these snakes to do it their way.”

“But, from what Lionel found out, Magdalena’s venom was driving people nuts, it was too strong, so they locked her away.”

“Hmm, interesting. But, people are surviving the snakebites and wanting more.”

“So, the snakes aren’t carrying Magdalena’s venom.”

“Not necessarily. I’m convinced the snakes are her doing and the Chaos Order are using them for their own ends. For some reason, the snakes are altering her venom, making it safe.”

“That would make sense.”

“And now there’s a full frontal battle going on between the two orders and Chicago is the battleground.”

“So, what do we need to do?”

“You need to stop Magdalena from making these snakes. Fast.”

Trixie sighed. “Well, we’re on our way. Hopefully, Troy’s onto something. We’ll go wait at Hermosillo for the jet. I’ll send you a message with the details.”

“Okay. You be careful. I’ll let you know when everything’s set for you.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Take care, Patricia. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

PART FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

D
on Vasquez stared at the surface of his desk with despondent eyes, his head bowed. He was riddled with shame and embarrassment; he’d lost face with his brothers and sisters of the Inner Circle in the same way he’d lost Tijuana. He was the Don of Mexico, the overseer of every major Mexican cartel. It was his responsibility to make sure the Mexican territories were kept under control, to protect his vampire lieutenants he’d put in charge of each cartel. Víbora had been his son, one of his lieutenants. Vasquez allowed him to turn, gave him his blessing so he could lead Los Verdugos under his instruction. And Vasquez had failed him.
The Order’s operations were under threat, and it was down to him. He wasn’t sure what his punishment would be. He hoped it wasn’t severe.

Even though the meeting was taking place via the Internet, Vasquez could feel the stares of the other dons on him like sunrays. He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but didn’t even know how to express himself. He sat there in silent dejection, his laptop open ahead of him.

In the end, Don César prompted him. “Speak, Vasquez,” she said. “Why have you requested this conference?”

Don Vasquez placed his palms on the surface of the table and splayed his fingers; they were trembling. “We have lost Tijuana,” he said in a soft voice, his head falling down further, his chest slumping. “I’m sorry,” he added.

“Yes, we know,” came César’s immediate reply. “There are sudden uprisings going on all over our territories. They’ve been inspired by the news of Tijuana.”

Don Vasquez frowned.

“We’ve lost Monteria,” Don Emilio informed him.

“There are wars on the streets all over Honduras as well,” Don Ramirez added.

Don Vasquez gazed at the images of the dons on his laptop screen, open-mouthed. He wasn’t the only one suffering under this pushback. It came as a relief. But, he still felt it was him to blame; it was under his jurisdiction the uprisings began.

“This is to be expected,” César said, giving Don Vasquez renewed hope.

He stared right at César’s image. “Expected?”

“Yes,” César affirmed. “The prophecies of the Unholy Brotherhood speak of uprisings and unrest amongst the peasants before the Chaos takes control.”

“What do we do?” asked Vasquez.

“We hold our positions until we take Chicago. Once we do that, we’ll have the firepower to take down the rest of the orders. We must stay strong, get every soldier we have at our disposal to defend the territories.”

“How is the operation going?” Emilio asked.

“Ramon and his guys have the Bloods’ building surrounded. It’s only a matter of time before it falls to us,” answered César
.
“Our time is nigh, we are one, we are strong. The power of the Unholy Mother will not let us down. We’ve all been blessed with her curse. And so we have to believe that she will guide us. The timing of everything now occurring is significant. The fall of the Blood Order; the uprising of the peasants against us. It was all foretold exactly like this by the Brotherhood. We must stay strong. Be vigilant. Up our defenses, hold fort until Chicago, and ultimately the northern lands, fall.”

A calm washed over Vasquez. He was relieved to hear of similar troubles across the Americas; it alleviated his stress. And if his troubles were part of the plan foretold centuries ago, then he was pleased he lost Tijuana. If it was part of the prophecy to lose some territory, then so be it. Small sacrifices to pay for the huge rewards heading their way. Victory in their battle against the other orders. The Unholy Mother would guide them; his faith was unbreakable. Ramon would get the first strike on the
gringos
, then they’d all fall like dominos from there.

He stared at the other dons, his apprehension melting. He knew he could rely on them, and the Unholy Mother. Like César asserted: she wouldn’t let them down.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

R
amon stepped through the water; it now reached beyond his ankles. Snakes slithered through it left and right, using it as a conduit for traveling through the streets of downtown Chicago. Just ahead of him was the Bloods’ tower. He’d laid low until the protection of night arrived before he headed all the way into the Loop. Once there, he found that the overhead sky had been blanketed in dark, thunderous clouds. He gazed upon them in delight.

He stared at the building ahead of him, hands on hips, the rain falling hard on him. They’d managed to infiltrate the tower, and were in the process of capturing it. The Dracos were penned in. Yes, he knew the area around him was also penned in, no one allowed in or out, but the Draco agents were falling one-by-one. Once Ramon and his crew had the building and crushed the Dracos, they’d have control over the major US institutions. From there, humanity would take their orders from the Inner Circle.

Ramon stared up at the tower, specifically the top floors; he envisaged the Inner Circle taking their seats at a table high up in the echelons of this building, dictating to the
gringos
, giving them orders, just like the Bloods had done for so long.

“Please hold out for a while longer, Mama,” he said to the grim, oppressive sky above the building as it lashed torrential rain down on him and everything around him. It soaked through his hair, his clothes, stung his eyes. It was sent from the higher powers, it was divine. He raised his hands up to the skies and basked in the power of the storm. All around him, his brothers continued the fight, keeping the encroaching cops at bay. All sides were wary of the snakes and the flooding; it meant Ramon could enter the building and finish the job.

Ramon could smell victory on the air. It was only a matter of time.

He stepped up to the tower entrance, an unstoppable force, about to render chaos on everything inside.