Nos Faux Ratu Ch. 06

"Nessa, we need to keep the humans away from the Fool," Death told her en route. "We don't want that new lycanthropy virus to spread to your people."

"Crap, you're right. If you've got snipers, where would you put them?"

They spent the next few minutes talking strategy, then Nessa took a call from Anabella, who was holed up on the roof of Garon Pegg's warehouse. It was actually a little higher than the surrounding buildings, so she was not particularly exposed to snipers as long as she did not go near the edges. Her guard, a couple of minor demons, were still with her. Then Anabella informed her friend that the fight had begun.

Nessa's troops pulled up short of the combat zone and moved in on foot. It was an isolated part of the warehouse district, but it would not stay that way. All of the Fool's men would be using silenced weapons, so it might be a while. Unless –

An explosion rocked the horizon as Nessa surveyed the area. It appeared that the Fool had gone low, using the Nightwalkers superior training and martial arts skills to keep control of the situation, and control it they did. There were already a dozen werewolves down, and that was just that Nessa could see. What made matters worse was that some of the defending wolves, and some of her own lycanthropes, were fidgety.

"What's going on?" she asked a werewolf who had come with her, who seemed reluctant to move away from the transports.

"There's something in the air," he replied. "Gods, I can smell it."

Nessa stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened. "All werewolves and other lycanthropes, back in the transports and get out!"

"What? Why?" Strength asked.

"Pecking order for Nightwalkers is determined pretty much due to strength of will, right? Same thing with werewolves. And if you've got someone as nasty as the Fool turned into a werewolf --"

"Exponential increase in power," Death said. "What would he be able to do?"

"You're looking at it. Werewolves as a rule will be terrified of him, and any other wolf that much more powerful than them. The Fool could probably cow most werewolves into submission and, if he's tough enough, maybe some other lycanthropes. I'm not going to just hand him more troops," she said, signaling her own shape changers back into their cars. "Go defend Devil's Night." She saw one of the werecats from her restaurant. "Follow Jason's lead," she said, pointed to her man. "I'll be back soon."

She seeped into the darkest shadows cast by the combination of street lights and metal buildings, her demon guard falling in behind her along with a couple dozen other Night Breed. Her human guards and her allied Nightwalkers took to the rooftops, and all of them were armed with silver bullets.

Nessa found Garon Pegg holed up in a building, surrounded by armed guards in their half-wolf forms. There was a definitive air of unease surrounding them, and it did not take long for the vampire to place it. Fight or flee. They did not know which to do, and that kind of sensation was toxic for a wild animal.

"What are you doing here, you undead slut? This is my operation!" Garon snarled.

"Your operation? You've got a hundred or more werewolves, and you're hiding in here like a rat. And you know what? You should be."

"I should --"

Nessa rushed forward, knocking guards out of the way as she put a hand around Garon's throat and lifted him off of the ground. "You should what?"

Garon snarled and spit, but he had nothing to say. He looked surprised when she put him down.

"And normally, you wouldn't have just hung there like a rag. You would have at least tried to claw my eyes out. The leader of the fake vampires is now some kind of mutant uber-werewolf, and he's exerting influence on all of your wolves, and you as well."

"Bullshit," Garon growled. "I am the alpha, and my troops --"

"Are going to wind up dead or in the control of the enemy if you don't get them the hell out of here!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Make a fool of me in front of the Council? I will never run!" Garon shouted, his voice breaking just a bit.

"I want to . . . oh never mind," she muttered, then threw Garon Pegg through a wall, knocking him unconscious. Nessa turned to Simon Glicker, the twit had run the Atlanta pack until Pegg had shown up to "fix" things. "You're in charge now. You don't like me, but you know me well enough to know that I'm serious. Get your wolves out of here, or I start looking for the next back-up alpha. Got it?"

Nessa knew that there would be hell to pay for laying hands on another agent of the Council, but she simply did not have time to waste. As Simon nodded and got on his radio, he had hate in his eyes, but it lived along side a healthy dose of fear. He might try to kill her at some point, and she knew that Pegg would, but not today. Not now, and that was all she had really been hoping for.

"Now what?" Ipos asked as most of their "allies" began to flee.

Nessa stared out into the patchwork darkness that was her world. "I'm going to go find this problem and kill him."

"Boss --"

"I'm going to try and draw him out in the open so that our guys can shoot. He may not know about the vulnerability to silver. You demons are with me. Someone get a hold of Anabella and tell her to stand by."

"Stand by and what?"

Nessa did not say the first thing that came to her mind. 'Tell her to get a song ready for someone, and let's hope it isn't me.' Instead, she just strode out into the darkness, following the smell of blood and smoke. She knew how to hunt a mega-predator as well. She did not go towards the gunfire, but rather towards the silence. The real killers were the quiet ones.

The stench of pheromones permeated the air, and she knew she was getting close. Her enemies were new to the game. Their minds might be collected, but their bodies were excited. They wanted to hunt. They needed to kill.

It did not take as long as she thought. She stepped into a small unloading area behind one of the warehouses, and she heard . . . nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Nessa chanted.

"You are not like the others," growled a voice from behind a metal storage pod. "Are you? You smell . . . dead. One of the dead, covered with perfume, but dead nonetheless."

"It's not perfume, it's body wash, but otherwise a good guess," Nessa replied, sauntering out into the middle of the streetlight's glare. "Why don't you come out here so that we can . . . talk?" she hissed.

"Now why would I want to come out when we can just talk from here?"

"Because you'll never control your pack if you don't," Nessa told him. "Because hiding means that either you're not the Fool, who's the one I want to talk to anyway, or you're a coward."

"You think that insults will alter my thinking?"

"Yes," was the honest response. It turned out that Nessa was right. She rather wished she wasn't.

The creature that jumped up to the top of the container was unlike any werewolf she had ever seen, and Nessa had seen quite a bit. He resembled a steroid-filled gorilla more than the half-form wolves she had know, he was simply so huge. Fur sprouted from underneath his body armor, and claws protruded from his gloves. His head, the one part of him that was most definitely wolf-like, had a sneering maw, full of teeth and the promise of a painful death. The beret he wore would have looking comical under other circumstances but here, it just identified him.

And the Fool reeked of power . . . raw, primal, terrifying power. Nessa now completely understood why all the werewolves had been freaked out. The Fool was so alpha that he made them want to wet themselves or hump his leg. None of them were going to challenge him and if they did, they would lose.

"You," the Fool said, still familiarizing himself with the art of talking while shifted, "You are the one they talk about, aren't you? Vampire?"

"Right on the first guess," she said, moving forward with the erotic grace that only she could pull off. "And you're the Fool. You're a big boy, aren't you?"

He cocked his head as he slowly prowled the top of the container, comfortable in his position at the top of the food chain. "You aren't afraid of me," he stated. "Interesting." He sniffed the air. "I do not recognize the smell of those with you, but they aren't like you."

"Demons," she told him. "There aren't many vampires around. We're kind of territorial, and so the only ones I allow are no threat to me."

"You seem very free with information. Is that usual?"

"You're not making it out of this alive, so I don't see the harm in telling you."

The Fool growled. "I would not be so sure of that."

"I've been alive a lot longer than you. I've picked up a few things." She jumped straight up when a Nightwalker werewolf came charging out of an alley, bringing her foot down on its head with a satisfying crunch that sent it down to the concrete. It probably didn't kill the thing, but it certainly made it see stars.

The Fool was still sniffing the air. "You smell like . . . like her," he said, his voice angry. "Why do you smell like her?"

Nessa cocked her head. "Who the hell . . . Oh! The Empress?"

"She was the strongest of our females," he replied coldly. "She will be again. Bring her to me, and you will be allowed to live. As a prisoner of the United States Government, of course."

'Okay, now you're getting creepy on me,' Nessa thought. 'She will be again? What the hell –' She was forced to dodge as another Nightwalker came charging out of the darkness. She wondered if she should point out that hiding in normal shadows did nothing to her, so they might as well quit. 'Nah.'

"Hate to break it to you, but the Empress doesn't exactly want to have anything to do with you," she said, spin-kicking her most recent attacker into a wall.

"She shall be made to see reason."

That got Nessa. After what Jenna had been through, Nessa was not going to let anyone make her do anything. "Why would she want to go with you when she can have all --" Nessa paused and traced one hand down her body, "-- of this?"

The Fool's eyes narrowed, and Nessa knew that something was coming. Something bad. He howled, and she was quickly proven right. From the roof of the building behind her, there was a responding howl. She glanced back and saw an equally impressive werewolf specimen standing there looking down, a noose dangling from his neck. Behind him, a dozen more Nightwalkers made their presence known. In front of her, another dozen had come up to support the Fool.

"She will be mine," the Fool growled, a dark and sinister tone that caught even Nessa by surprise. "Soon, she will be begging to come back where she belongs."

Nessa did not like the sound of that threat. Not at all.

Ipos, Kobal, and Cresil helped Nessa circle the wagons, along with a smattering of other magical beings. Because all the lycanthropes had been forced to retreat, Nessa found herself outnumbered. The thought actually made her smile.

"Never bring puppies to fight with the mother of all bitches," she said, then launched herself forward.

Street fighting was an ugly business on the best of days, but when you throw werewolf commandos, a plethora of Night Breeds, and small arms fire, "ugly" just did not cover it. A number of hybrid Nightwalkers attempted to end Nessa's life on her way to the Fool, but they were hopelessly overmatched.

At first, Nessa made it look easy. One attacker came in and swung low, trying to taking out Nessa's knees. She stepped back, grabbed his arm, then snap-kicked him in the elbow. As he howled in pain, she jumped, spun in mid air, and came down thrusting the palm of her hand into the back of his neck, breaking it instantly.

"This is what happens when the dogs act up and I'm all out of rolled up newspapers," she said, loud enough so that the Fool could hear her.

"She's mine," he growled to his underlings, and a path instantly cleared between he and the vampire, with the lesser werewolves going after Nessa's people.

'I need to kill him and break his forces before the body count starts to rise,' Nessa thought. She jumped to the top of the storage container, only to have the Fool swing a claw at her immediately and rip her coat as she swirled out of the way. 'Fuck, he's fast!' she thought. She shot a couple of kicks at his knees, but he avoided them easily and also sliced her feet off at the ankles. He was faster than any werewolf that Nessa had ever seen, and was likely stronger.

Behind her, the demons and Nessa's other allies were having a tough time of things, as the attacking werewolves were tactically sound and used to working together. On the other hands, demons were demons, and they were born and bred for war. A number of the hybrid Nighwalkers were forced off of the rooftops as Nessa's human and pure Nightwalker allies approached the fray and lay down some covering fire. Despite their training, the clawed hands of werewolves in their half-forms were simply not as adept at handling weapons as human fingers could.

Nessa knew that she needed to avoid the Fool's claws, so she took to the sky, flying over his head and striking out with her heels. He ducked and his eyes narrowed as he assessed this new ability and determined how best to deal with it. He pulled a gun from his belt and brought it to bear. Nessa could either just keep dodging, or disarm him. She chose the latter, swooping in and kicking for the gun.

The Fool had been expecting the attack, so his other hand came over with lightning speed and grabbed her ankle, then swung her around until she collided with metal lid of the container.

Nessa was hurting. She had not hurt like this in a long time, and could not even remember the last time she had encountered something with this kind of strength. But she was much stronger than her appearance let on, and she was crafty. She lay limp in his hands, playing possum. While the Fool did not let go, he did make an exaggerated movement as he swung the vampire over his head and towards the container again, which gave her time to –

The Fool almost lost his balance when the vampire disappeared from his hand. Just before she was supposed to collide with floor, she had vanished. Now, a cloud of red mist floated just off of the ground. 'No,' he realized with a sniff. 'Not mist. Blood.'

Nessa quickly coalesced into her normal body, coming up under the Fool's chin with a massive upper cut that lifted him six feet off of the ground. She spun and planted a heel into his kidneys as he fell, then spun around again and planted a punch to his face just before he hit the ground, driving him down like a tent stake. But it did not stop him. He rolled out of the way before she could land her heel on his throat, causing her foot to dent the metal container. The Fool kicked at her leg, but she flipped backward and escaped with only the most minor of contact.

The Fool kept low, as some of the traitorous Nightwalkers opened fired nearby, then chose to jump down to the ground. Nessa turned to follow, then stopped to survey the battlefield. There were dozens lying on the ground, dead or dying.

"Nessa, look out!" Ipos shouted. He was looking behind her, and took a step forward to support her.

That was when Nessa saw a shape shoot out from the alley, claws extended. The Hanged Man ripped Ipos's throat open, then plunged a hand into the demon's chest.

"No!" she screamed. She felt heated breath behind her and began to spin, but was not able to escape the claws that raked down her back. She screamed again, and saw the Fool standing over her with a gleam in his eyes that she had never seen before. He was utterly insane, and he was going to kill her.

Then, a bullet ripped through the Fool's armor, penetrating just under the arm as he raised his hand. He snarled in incredible pain as the silver bullet began polluting his bloodstream. Madness, however, was a formidable anesthetic, and he turned to finish off the vampire woman. But as tough at the Fool was, Nessa was every bit his equal. When she looked up at him, she could see his blood, and she was going to take it all. She stood up, missing her initial mark of the Fool's heart as he twisted his body, but she was able to continue her strike and very nearly rip his lower jaw off with her own fingernails. The blow sent him flying upward and back off of the crate.

In the background, the sound of sirens echoed through the air. She and the Fool both heard it, but the air between them was thick with vengeance. It was the Fool who broke their stare first, letting out a gutteral howl with what was left of his face, and the hybrid Nightwalkers broke out of combat and vanished into the savage night. Nessa wanted to give chase, but she needed to rally the troops. She needed –

If her heart had been beating, it would have stopped. If air had graced her lungs, her breath would have caught in her throat. Anabella, looking like she had not shied away from the fight herself, was floating over Ipos's still form. Tears fell freely from her eyes, and her mouth moved, making sounds that no one could hear. It was the death song of a demon.

That was when it hit home. Ipos was dead. Demons were nigh-invulnerable, and the Hanged Man had made it look easy. Nessa had known Ipos for a century, and now –

"Gods above," she whispered. Ipos was dead, and Anabella was singing him to the next world. It was not possible. It just was not fucking possible.

Death appeared next to her, his gun still firmly in his hand. "Nessa, we have to go."

She snarled, spun, and picked him up by the armor. "Don't tell me what I have to . . . to do," she said, her vision going slightly dizzy.

"You've lost blood, and you're losing more," Death told her, his voice colder than she remembered it being. "I didn't save you just to let you die from grief here. Sound the order. Only you can."

Nessa realized that it was Death's bullet that had saved her from even more serious damage than she had already experienced. She knew she should feel grateful, but she could not muster the energy. She raised her communicator to her lips.

"Gather the dead. Burn the evidence. Fall back."

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Hours later . . .

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When Jenna had finally opened her eyes, she had known something was wrong. None of her closer friends were around. All she could see was Avery sitting in a corner, talking quietly with Anabella. He looked grim. What had happened?

Ghede had wandered over and she had gotten the full story, or at least as much as the medic had been able to glean from the combatants. Although she had barely spoken with the demon, she felt tears in the corners of her eyes. Ipos had meant something to Nessa. All in all, the vampire had lost fifteen people in the skirmish, though the Nightwalkers casualties had been greater. After defections and deaths, the Fool probably had only twenty or so commandos under his control.

"And to top it off," Ghede told her, "we have about six of our people that were scratched. Humans. We've had to quarantine them in the holding cells until we find out if the counteragents we gave them for the lycanthropy will work."

"Hopefully they'll work better for them than for me," she whispered.

"I've come up with a new batch that will hopefully --"

"No," she told him.

He furrowed his brow. "No?"

"You can't keep wasting resources on me," she told him. "Just let me . . . let me change. Nessa should not lose any more friends because of this war. It's --"

"It's Nessa's job to do this," Ghede told her. "Ours is a savage world, Jenna. This is not the first time that Nessa has had blood on her hands, and it will not be the last. Once she has recovered from her wounds --"

"She's wounded?" Jenna almost barked, sitting up and looking around. "Why didn't you say something?"