Ghost Soldiers (9 page)

“Maria Ricardi,” it said in a raspy voice and bowed slightly. “I've been waiting for you.”

“That right? Waiting for little old me, huh?” She showed her fangs in a smile. “Seems I'm Ms. Popular all of a sudden. Hey, Xiesha, if I shoot this thing, is it gonna die?”

“Yes,” Xiesha replied, still covering it with the shotgun. “It's a Nassid. We need no silver, just put holes in it.”

“But look how cute it is,” Maria said, not taking her eyes off it. “It even plays music on a little flute.”

“The flute is carved out of human bone, Maria.”

“That's disgusting. I'm changing my mind about cute. Goddamn thing looks like a shark. You want to ventilate this ugly motherfucker, or should I?”

“To me, you appear just as strange, ape-kin,” the Nassid replied. “And I am a
he
, not an
it
. Don't judge me by teeth and eyes.”

“I'm judging you by your flute, you bastard. Better speak fast before my trigger finger gets an untimely cramp.”

The Nassid's wide, teeth-filled mouth frowned. It, or
he
, licked his lips and gills or whatever they were with a long black tongue. “I represent a certain visionary…a certain Moses, if you enjoy Biblical examples.”

“I don't,” she said. “What's this guy's name?”

“Sorin Cojocaru. An Invidi sorcerer who strums the strings of flux and stasis. Cojocaru, my lord and liege. His name, to us, means freedom.”

“Never heard of him.”

“That's interesting, vampire, because you will. Soon. One of your kind will open the door to a new world for us all. Even now, my lord has placed his hand upon the knob.”

“Sounds like a deranged Kool-Aid cult, and religion bores me. So what does your Moses want with me?”

“We all wander in the wilderness.” The Nassid looked across the road at the cemetery, and then raised the flute to his lips. She watched the flaps of skin on his cheek flip open as he sucked in air and close again before he played a string of notes which vibrated in her mind, full of death and mourning and time sifting away. He stopped playing and looked at her again. “The Order of the Thorn does not love you.”

“The feeling's mutual.”

Xiesha stepped closer to the Nassid. The shotgun barrel never wavered. “Nassid are treacherous. Craven. Eaters of human flesh and hoarders of bones. If this Invidi sorcerer employs one, I would be wary.”

“Well met, pretty kyveryn.” The Nassid's face split into a leer. “Do not fear an apex predator. I come in peace, to parley in good faith.” He blinked at Xiesha, dual eyelids shuttering, and then licked the tip of the flute with his long black tongue. The gesture was so unexpected, so borderline obscene and repulsive, Maria almost gasped in disgust, and she wasn't exactly a blushing virgin these days.

“You should work on your negotiation techniques,” Maria warned, “before she rips that tongue off and strangles you with it.”

The Nassid made a gurgling sound she took for laughter. “A welcome possibility.” He turned his attention back to her. “I've come to offer you another path, Maria Ricardi. Lord Cojocaru fights against the Thorn for us all. He seeks to join a thousand disparate parts together into a machine to be feared and respected. To bind us all as brothers and sisters—vampires, Nassid, wolves, ghouls, Fae and every hunted creature beneath sun and moon. Join with us.” With his free hand he pulled out another golden collar set with a cat's-eye gem and began to idly spin it on the tip of one yellow claw. “You will be given this human city to rule in his name. Soon Lord Cojocaru will come forth from Romania and draw us all to a…” he paused and gurgled, “…to a promised land.”

“Let me fill you in, fishface, since you're new in town,” she said. “I already run Boston. Me. Not some Romanian guy. You stroll in here, throw your weight around, try to plant some flags, and I'll hang your corpse from the Old North Church steeple for everybody to admire.”

He stopped spinning the collar and held it up between finger and thumb. “A warning I do take seriously, Maria Ricardi.” He flashed a yellow-toothed grin. “Yet, I am here and doing my lord's work recruiting those who will help make his inspired vision a reality. I entreat you in good faith and urge you to carefully consider.”

“So what's that collar for? My prize for signing up?”

He touched the jewel on the collar around his neck. “This binds us to our Lord Cojocaru. Through it, we feed him strength, we feed him knowledge, and both of those come back to us in turn, redoubled.” He shrugged. “Soon they will not be needed, as we will share a link same as those lords of old who fled the great city of Entropy at the nexus of dimensions. A link meant to bind Master and servant more intimately than mates.”

“Master?” The word tasted bitter in her mouth. “I had one once and I killed him. I'll never have another. Tell this Cujo guy to get the fuck outta my face, and stay the fuck outta my town.”

“I entreat you to not reject in haste. My lord seeks talent to fight the humans and free the world from their shackles. Accept, and I will be on my way to New York, leaving this city in your capable hands. Raise a banner here in Lord Cojocaru's name. Discard these weak humans who serve you and build him a syndicate of the unseen underworld—a
mafia
worthy of the name.”

“Second time tonight I have to turn down an offer,” she said, “so let me make this just as clear. Tell your boss, your lord or master or whatever, I wish him luck in his spat with the Thorn, but my answer's still no.”

The Nassid shrugged. “Regretful. Still, the werewolf pack ranging this Boston territory seemed
very
interested in what my lord has offered them through me, his humblest servant. They, perhaps, do not care for a vampire running this great city.”

“What werewolf pack?” She glanced at Xiesha, but Xiesha never took her gaze or the shotgun off the Nassid.

“Look at you.” The Nassid's grin was sly. “You're a babe in woods full of wolves. I speak of the pack known as the Blackstone Clan. They wield power here through…more legitimate means among the human prey.”

Christ Almighty, another rival? She'd just finished squashing one and here came another, threats breeding faster than maggots in roadkill. “Let me expand upon my answer. Tell your pet poodles I'll fucking bury them if they make a play. As for your boss, you tell him to get fucked.”

“No need.” He clicked his serrated teeth together and again touched the cat's-eye jewel on his collar. “You just told him yourself. My lord Cojocaru has heard every word.” He paused with his head cocked as if listening to something she couldn't hear. “My lord commands me to tell you not to fear. Your lost vampire lover is about to make a bitter mistake, striking the face of a friend, in the service of a mutual enemy. But my lord assures me all shall be forgiven, if your Karl Vance sees his error and repents.”

Terror flooded through her mind, surging so fast and cold for a moment she couldn't think. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The Nassid only smiled. She launched at him, caught him one-handed by the front of his odd leather shirt and slammed him into the tree trunk. He grunted, and the bone flute fell to the grass.

“How do you know about Karl?” She shoved the semi-auto pistol against his gray-skinned forehead. “
How
?”

“Hold, Maria,” Xiesha warned. “We cannot kill it until we understand the repercussions. If Karl's involved, we must be careful.”

Maria hissed in disgust and stepped out of the Nassid's reach, though she still aimed her 9mm at his head. He blinked at her, then bent and scooped up his flute.

“I am in your debt, kyveryn.” The Nassid peered at her, and his black tongue played across his lips. “This will be remembered when my lord comes into his own. As for your Karl, I cannot speak more—my lord does not wish it, and all your threats will avail you nothing.”

The Nassid bowed, lifted his bone flute and walked off through the trees, playing a solemn melody. Maria considered perforating one of his lungs with a bullet. How well could he play his damn flute then? But Xiesha, who seemed to read her anger and worry, shook her head.

Christ, what had Karl gotten himself into? She had to get a message to him, and had to do it
now
. Because it sounded as if the Thorn had sent him after this Cojocaru, and the sorcerer appeared to hold all the cards.

Chapter Ten: None So Desperate

Xiesha stood guard as Maria pulled out her prepaid cell phone and punched in the numbers on the card MacKenzie had given her. Her hands wanted to shake, and her insides felt frosted with ice. In her mind she kept hearing that damn gray-skinned freak saying Karl's name.

“MacKenzie.”

“I need to talk to Karl. Now. Give me a number.”

“Maria. I didn't expect—”

“Don't fuck with me right now, I'm warning you. Give me a number. I know you guys can get him messages. You wouldn't let him that far off the leash.”

Silence from the other end. Maria's hand tightened on the cell phone, and she heard the plastic creak. Finally MacKenzie spoke. “What happened?”

“I just got approached by some kind of walking shark playing a goddamn flute, not ten minutes after I left you. Oh, hey, and he made me an offer. Just like you. Wants me to join up with some fuckin' guy he thinks is Moses.”

Another long pause. “Bold.”

“No shit. And here's the best part. They know about Karl. That he's after them or something, working for you idiots. They
know
. Now how the fuck would that happen, I wonder?”

MacKenzie didn't answer.

Maria's claws started to push out of her fingertips. “So get me a number where I can tell him.
Now
.”

“All right. It's a satellite phone.” She rattled off a long string of numbers. Maria closed her eyes and burned them into her memory. “But it may already be too late—”

Maria snapped the phone shut. Gave it a second to disconnect. Flipped it open and punched in the new number. It took forever to connect. Xiesha glanced at her, worry marring her face. Maria couldn't meet her gaze. Her own fear boiled in her mind.

A series of clicks and beeps sounded in her ear, and a woman with a painfully young voice answered. “Bailey Fletcher.”

“Put Karl Vance on the phone,” Maria demanded. “
Now
.”

“Who is this? This is a secure channel. What's your security code?”

“Karl's in danger. The guy you're after—Cojocaru—he knows about Karl. He knows you're hunting him.”

“What? How could you know—?”

“I don't have time for this. Put Karl on and tell him it's Maria.”

A pause. “I can't. Not right now.”

“The hell you can't. Lady MacKenzie gave me this number. I'm coming to get him.”

“You can't come here,” Fletcher said quickly. “This is a covert operation. You don't even know where we are.”

“Romania. That's all I need.” Karl would tell her the rest, and Xiesha could help get her a ride to Europe and watch her back during the day. Here came the cavalry. “Put him on the phone.”

“He's not here. He's deployed. The operation's
live
.”

Fuck. She couldn't be too late. “Patch me through to him. You have to pull him out.”

There was a long, agonizing pause in which Maria died a hundred times. “No,” Fletcher said. “It's too late now.”

The connection clicked, followed by silence. Maria stared down at the phone in horror.

Chapter Eleven: God's Eye

Karl stared through the scope of the M82 Barrett sniper rifle, firing from the prone position, one finger resting along the outside edge of the trigger guard, ready to finish the job and get out. Now if only he could find Cojocaru and put the crosshairs on him…

His sniper nest was hidden on a rocky outcropping, surrounded by evergreen trees and looking down into a valley sloping between mountain ridges. He wore black, but not a ghillie suit, and he hadn't painted his face since he could weave darkness to conceal his position, negating the need for the elaborate camouflage suit. Surprise would work in his favor, but he wouldn't stay hidden after the first shot, not against the small army Cojocaru had amassed. Both last night and tonight he'd expected to find an ambush waiting in the forest as he stalked to his firing position, but there'd been nothing. No sign of wolves or ghouls or sorcerer.

It made him more uneasy, not less.

“I count forty-four hostiles,” Bailey said over his headset earpiece. “And five more in the tree line.”

Her numbers matched up with his count, but her voice sounded different. Strained. Tense. Was it just combat excitement or something else? She'd gone offline a few minutes ago, silencing the com to answer her phone, and he'd noticed the change when she came back on. He tried to push his worries out of his mind and focus on the view through the crosshairs.

The shot, when he took it, would be in the four hundred and thirty to four hundred and fifty meter range, the distances on his range card all verified last night from this exact position via a laser range finder, and all within his comfort zone with the rifle.

“Condition update,” Bailey said. “No wind. Repeat, zero deflection. Humidity thirty-two percent. Fifteen degrees Celsius. No visual yet on high-priority target.” The remote-controlled camera beside him whirred as it turned on its tripod and its lens focused, the sound so quiet it was only audible to him because of his acute vampire hearing.

He waited, scanning with the riflescope as she scanned with the camera. A vampire had advantages over a human sniper. A heart which did not beat. No need to breathe. He could see in the darkness. His hands remained completely still, he could lie motionless for hours, and even the chill lingering in the air didn't bother him. Every part of him was ready to take the shot when it finally came.