Stacked Deck Ch. 03

Chapter Three: "When the dealin's done"

Nikasha threw open the door with a huge grin and launched herself out into the hall. "Jesse!" She squealed with delight, wrapping herself around her husband, lean thighs gripping tight to his waist as she kissed him longingly.

He laughed playfully as she smothered his face in kisses, his strong arms holding her tight to him. There was such a close resemblance to his half-brother, although with certain differences.

Jesse was a few inches taller and his dark hair was long and straight, usually kept back in a loose ponytail, and there was no gray streak to belie his age. It was also of note that even though they once had the same icy blue stare, Jesse wore a black cloth eye patch. He'd lost his left eye in a tangle with a Lycan about 50 years ago. Normally, it would have grown back; but as it was ripped out by a dark creature of the night, this was not to be the case.

His loving gaze fell and his stance stiffened as he stared into her eyes. She slowly slid back to the floor, her own face darkening. Jesse took her hands in his, brow furrowing with unasked questions. Drawing a deep breath he steadied himself.

"Jamie called me last night," he finally said. "He told me what's been going on down here. We need to get you out of town...now."

Nikasha's eyes fell to the floor. "I just finished packing. But, now that you're here...shouldn't we stay to help?" She raised her pleading gaze to her spouse.

He bit into his bottom lip in consternation. "You misheard. I said we need to get you out of town." He gazed deep into her eyes with all his will. "I'm staying to help, but I can't be worrying about you while I do. The jeep is parked around the block. I need you to take the keys and drive up to Windstone." He steeled himself, knowing full well that she would protest and loudly.

But she didn't. Instead, she pulled him inside and locked the door behind them.

Tom set the sacks on the dinette table that he used more for stacks of papers and bills, than to eat at. He put away the three-pound bag of cat food in the cupboard. He was smart enough to know that if he opened it and put it in the Tupperware container, Yumi would mistake the gesture as time to eat. He glanced about and noticed that his faithful companion was sprawled on top of the sofa in that curious upside down position. He quietly removed the various mystical supplies from the sack and put them over on the makeshift alter with delicate care.

Passing Mouse as she slept away on the sofa, he slipped stealthily into the bathroom and washed his face with a hot washcloth. It had been such a long twenty-four hours. He gazed up into the mirror, his eyes were red and the dark patches beneath them were prominent enough to imply that he had a broken nose. Glancing at the little travel clock on the sink, he decided that he had just enough time to grab a quick nap before he would meet back up with Jamus at the office.

Without bothering to change clothes, Tom stepped into his bedroom and peeled back the covers. He burrowed himself deeply into the plush pillows and closed his bleary eyes with a deep yawn; it was only two to three heartbeats before he was fully asleep.

Mouse awakened from the couch and crept in to use the bathroom. She smiled to herself as she heard the light snoring from the adjacent room. She took a shower and was careful to avoid the makeshift stitches. She winced slightly as the hot water began to soothe her aches and pains away.

After drying off, she snuck into Tom's room and borrowed one of his looser t-shirts. She looked over her shoulder at him as she appraised herself in the full-length mirror on the door and then curled up into the bed behind Tom, draping her arm around his waist. Nestled in quietly, she went back to sleep.

Diego St. Dior's eyes fluttered open, the pressure on his lids heavy and viscous. His vision was a reddish blur and he grasped the realization that he could not move. He gazed about him frantically and pulled and tested at the restraints. The thick duct tape around his mouth blocked his anger and terror. He shuddered in a futile attempt to free himself.

He finally calmed himself enough to gaze around at his surroundings. He peered through the oozing blood and hopeless dark to his right; strapped down to a small alter in similar restraints was his fiancée Sofia. Diego shot her a look of pleading question, but she only lolled her head to the other side with exhaustion.

"Good evening Diego...so kind of you to join us, " came the voice from the shadows. It was a voice utterly devoid of light. "I trust you slept well?"

There was a heavy crunch as the power was thrown and overhead lights slammed down, highlighting the victims in a vulgar, raw intensity. They were all strapped atop movable, alter-like examination tables. Five victims set in meticulous distance from each other, forming the tips of the dimly glowing pentagram on the floor.

The man in the dark robe stood behind the glass enclosure on the second floor, his arms folded behind his back as he surveyed the room below. A sinister smile toyed at the corner of his lips beneath the shadowy folds of the ceremonial hood. All was coming together as planned. The Blood moon was fast approaching. All five sacrifices were in place, ready to amplify and draw down the power that was rightfully his. That fool Jamus Phantym was out chasing red herrings and shadows. The only thing that could possibly get in the way would be the psi that Phantym had employed. Soon he would be out of the way; Walker would see to that. Though proving to be more inept by the moment, he was a were-wolf. Surely that would be enough to remove the psychic from the equation.

The mystical lights from the Pentagram on the floor began to brighten steadily as the night approached. All the key players were in place and feeding into the power source. The dark one smiled delightedly, within mere hours, the transference would be complete and he would be a God among men. From the shadows behind him, his servant entered and stood tall with fingers clasped before him.

"Master," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Walker has just reported in. The psychic gave him the slip about two hours ago. However, he is returning to the island to finish the job at Ballentine's home. He says that it will be over just after sunset."

"Excellent," the dark one hissed and waved his servant away. "Go and prepare for our guests."

Tom's eyes snapped open and he listened carefully. He was suddenly aware that his left arm was tingling and a light breath touched his ear. He turned his head aside and gazed in confusion at the sleeping face beside him.

Again the alarms rang through his head. Someone or something had tripped the protective spells he had placed on his apartment when he'd first arrived those many months ago. He squirmed out from under her and brushed lightly at her cheek. She moaned softly and shifted a bit.

"Mouse...Mouse, wake up," he whispered softly and cupped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flew open and her brow furrowed. "Someone's here. We've got to get up. Nod if you understand."

She nodded and started to slide off the bed, just as the glass from the bedroom window sprayed inward with a loud crash. Tom rolled and pressed himself tight to the floor. The Lycan planted himself in the middle of the bed as it collapsed beneath his weight, claws tearing at the sheets as he let out a fierce howl. Tom pulled himself to his feet and instinctively gathered the blue light from the air around him and fired a psi-bolt into the werewolf's chest.

Devon slammed against the hard, stone wall with a sickening crunch, then snarled and launched himself at the sorcerer. Tom crouched as the Lycan sailed over him, claws tearing at his shirt. Devon charged again with an angry roar, this time pinning Tom to the floor. The werewolf wrapped his meaty fingers around Tom's throat and pressed hard. Tommy's eyes began to turn red as the flow of oxygen was cut off. He tried to focus all his energy into his palms, preparing to fire a pair of bolts into the Lycan's chest at point blank range. His sight began to blacken around the edges.

There was a pained yelp and the Lycan's eyes grew wide in astonishment. Devon looked down in disbelief at the smoking silver tip protruding through the center of his chest. He stood and reached desperately behind him, trying to withdraw the silver-bladed sword from his back. He looked frantically around the room and saw the steely gaze of Mouse as she stood defiantly before him. He lunged at her in pure animal rage. She spun on her heel and her other foot caught him forcefully in the throat, sending him careening toward the stone wall again, driving the sword into him all the way to the hilt.

Devon stood there for a moment in complete shock. His form began to change before them as he clutched the blade of the sword in his chest. His dying eyes penetrating her soul with untainted hatred. He slid down the wall and crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

"Payback's a bitch," she panted as she turned to check on Tom. She knelt down beside him and placed her hand on his back as he sat there coughing and trying to catch his breath. "You okay?" She asked quietly. Tom nodded as she helped him to his feet.

Tom stood, hands grasping his knees as he fought to regain his breath. He staggered over to the corpse of Devon Walker and examined the body. He found a cell phone in the Lycan's pocket and hit redial.

"Walker? Tell me you have some good news for once," said the smooth voice at the other end. "The Master grows impatient."

"Tell your Master...that Mr. Walker is no longer on his payroll," Tom growled into the phone. "Tell him I'm coming for him. This ends tonight."

He tossed the phone down at Devon's lifeless body and pulled the sword from his back. Silently he raised it and in a fluid swipe, took the Lycan's head. He wiped off the sacred blade as he stepped out into the living room, his eyes ablaze with determination. Moving steadily, he took the scabbard in hand and slid the blade into place. He slung it over his shoulder and unbolted the front door. He turned to Mouse, who was following a few steps behind. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Is this the part where you tell me that I have to stay put?" She glared at him defiantly.

"Quite the contrary," he forced a smile. "I'm gonna need another Guardian for this."

She smiled brightly and asked, "So where are we going?"

Tom opened the door for her and locked up behind them. "To the docks, " he said flatly. "Take me to where you found that vampire that was working with Walker."

Jamus crouched at the edge of the gutter atop the roof of a warehouse on the waterfront. He was feeling weak and ravenous. He'd realized a few hours ago that he hadn't fed in days. His fingers wrapped tightly around the aluminum of the gutter and he smiled in feral glee as he heard the scream from below.

"Right on time," he whispered to himself. He kicked off and plummeted to the concrete below, his boots making a near silent thud as he landed. He backed up into the shadows as the woman came scrambling past. He kept his gaze on her back and reached out taking the pursuer by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the concrete blocks of the warehouse.

"Hello there...meat," he hissed as he lifted the man off his feet and pinned him to the wall. The thug's eyes went wide in confusion and the pistol dropped from his fingers. Holding the man by the throat, Jamus lifted his leg and brought it into the man's sternum. The man crumpled to his hands and knees gasping harshly. Jamus slipped up behind him and with inhuman speed grabbed the man by the hair and snapped his head back. Keeping him in tight embrace, he sank his fangs into the man's throat and completely drained him of his life.

Jamus took the eighty-five dollars from the man's wallet and stuffed it into his front pocket. He lifted the corpse up over his shoulder, carried him over to the edge of the dock and dumped him unceremoniously into the bay. He rubbed his hands together and smirked silently to himself, before retreating back into the shadows.

A few yards away, a door creaked open and a tall man dressed in a charcoal gray suit stepped out into the night breeze. The man looked around cautiously. Satisfied that it was clear, he withdrew a cell phone from one of his pockets and flipped it open.

Jamus strained against the breeze to hear the conversation. He jumped silently to the next rooftop over, trying to get closer. A moment later the man in the suit clicked the phone shut and furiously kicked at an empty cola can, sending it sailing across the lot. The man flipped the phone open again and dialed.

"It's time. Bring them in," he said forcefully before closing the phone and stuffing it back in his pocket. He stood guarding the door with his hands clasped before him. Jamus leaped silently up onto the roof and watched carefully.

Twenty minutes later, a silver Hummer pulled up to the structure and two men slid out and opened the side door. One of the men leaned inside and yanked a passenger to the concrete. Fiery red tendrils of hair covered the woman's face. She flicked her head back and spat defiantly.

"I'm really gonna enjoy ripping your fucking throat out," she snarled.

Jamus' eyes narrowed as soon as he saw her pulled to her feet. "Nikasha..." he growled to himself. The other man grappled at another passenger. The man lurched out of the Hummer and caught his captor in the chin with his knee, driving him sprawling to the pavement. With hands tied behind his back the dark haired captive dropped to his knee and crushed his assailant's throat with a sickening crunch. The dying man twitched as the nerves in his neck severed.

"Jesse, behind you!" Jamus screamed, just as Henchman Number Two brought the butt of a shotgun down on Jesse's neck, knocking him unconscious. Jamus hurriedly scrambled off the roof and charged at the man. The henchman raised the shotgun and pulled the trigger. His shot fired wild as his legs were swept out from under him. Nikasha brought the heel of her boot down on his face, shattering his nose. The shotgun skittered across the pavement.

Nikasha quickly turned around and pulled the knife out of the man's belt and slit the ropes, freeing her hands. She knelt beside him as he moaned and opened his blackening eyes. She roughly pinched the swelling flesh of his nose and brought her face to his as he screamed in agony.

"Hey asshole. Remember me? Remember what I promised you?" she asked. "I always keep my promises."

Her eyes glimmered in sadistic glee. She leaned down and kissed him full on the lips, lapping at the blood flowing across his cheeks from his shattered nose. Her eyes widened as the tendrils of madness enveloped her brain. A light rumble of laughter developed in her chest and grew into a demented cackle, as she took one slender hand and dug her nails slowly in around his throat. Fingers sinking deep into his neck, very slowly, she pulled. As the cords of his throat were ripped from flesh, his choking screams of terror and agony still managed to empty from his chest.

Jamus was at his brother's side, shaking him back to consciousness. Jesse's glazed eyes opened and blinked rapidly. "Jamie?" He croaked softly. "What're you doing here?"

"Helping to save your silly ass," he smiled brightly. "Not that Nikki doesn't have it under control."

He cocked a thumb over his shoulder and chuckled. Abruptly, he twisted as a shot rang out and caught him in the shoulder. He landed hard on his side and snarled at his attacker. The man in the gray suit took a step forward aimed the 9mm pistol between Jamus eyes, a smile curled on his lips and he pulled the trigger.

The pistol exploded in a burst of flame within his hand, shredding the flesh from bone. He cried out in pain, tucked it under his other arm and ran off into the night. Jamus cupped his shoulder and winced.

"Aw...Son of a BITCH," he grimaced. "That was just starting to heal." A flicker of movement caught his eye and he saw Tom standing there with raised hands. Tom slowly lowered his arms and nodded wordlessly. He'd hexed the pistol and made it jam.

Jamus whipped his head around as he heard horrified shouting. He sprang to his feet and ran off hastily toward the commotion.

As he rounded the corner and skid to a halt, he saw a black panther stalking back and forth. The man in the gray suit was cowering in a corner of a blocked alleyway, a dark stain down the front of his slacks. The moonlight came out from behind the clouds and Jamus could see, through the sleek fur, dark markings that resembled tattoos on its skin. He smiled to himself and turned away.

"He's all yours Mouse, " he called darkly over his shoulder.

When he got back to the front doors of the warehouse, he found Tom, Nikasha and Jesse kneeling in a circle, discussing the situation and tending wounds. All four of them turned at the sound of the bloodcurdling scream echoing through the aluminum canyons, a scream that was cut all too unnaturally short.

Jamus smiled menacingly and nodded. "Let it be...Mouse has a new toy."

Tom's brow creased for a moment and then he went back to checking the lump on the back of Jesse's head. Jesse winced and scowled as he touched it tenderly. Mouse came back around the corner, buttoning up her jeans. Having returned to her more human appearance, she licked at the lips of her vicious smile.

Tom got back to his feet and turned to her. He opened up his psychic shielding enough to read the surrounding area and shuddered as he was instantly flooded with pain, terror and darkness. This was the place they were looking for. He mustered up all his courage and tried to set aside the welling fear.

"Okay, here we go," he said defiantly as he gazed up into the night sky. The obscenely large moon smiled back at him as a shimmer of red began to cross its face. The rest of the group looked at him with concern. He cocked his head aside and thought about it a moment. All but Mouse, were vampires. They could not enter the building without permission from the resident. He suddenly realized he was on his own here.

Tom drew the sword from the scabbard and stepped over to the door of the warehouse. He turned and looked once more over his shoulder. "Mouse, get them to a safe house. Take care of them," he called out as he pulled his leg back and kicked the door open. There was no point in sneaking around. Whoever the mastermind behind this was, he knew Tom was there. Protection spells careened across Tom's shields, tossing him about and tearing at his gut; spells that made him feel like a frightened child left alone in the world.

He steeled his resolve and pushed forward. His battered shielding remained intact and cast the spells aside. Tom's aura began glowing a bright blue, and as he came around a stack of crates, the bright, violet light emanating from the pentagram on the floor assaulted him. He gripped the hilt of the sword firmly and took a step into the light.

There, in the center of the symbol, stood a man shrouded in a black, hooded robe. The man raised his arms as he drew the rising power into him. The five captives screamed and moaned in agony from the altars as the energy was ripped away in brightly colored ribbons. A deeply menacing laugh erupted from his thin lips.

All the pieces suddenly fell into place as Tom squinted through the bright light and caught a glimpse of the man's face. He took a step forward, raising the sword, pointing it accusingly.

"That's what this was about? A fucking turf war!" Tom snarled angrily.

Dimitri Chernovich raised his hands and slid back the hood. "No!" the man spat back. "It's about power...it's about regaining my youth! Taking back what was stolen from me. What is rightfully mine!"