Page 71 of Saint of the Shadows

Bam! Bam! Bam!Gunfire echoed out from the slaughterhouse.

Guns and bullets were inevitable “natural” disasters. In other parts of the world, people had earthquake or hurricane plans. She had gunfire plans. Sometimes when growing up, she had to sit in her bathtub until a drive-by passed. Sometimes patients were stitched together with bullets still inside them. Sometimes people died from gunshot wounds. A lot of people had to live putting up with guns. Regardless, with guns and bullets, she had to act; she had to move. But now as the man who loved her could possibly be at the receiving end of the gunfire, she didn’t have a plan. Instead, she froze.

Tobias tossed his coat over the fence’s barbed wire and lumbered over with the awkward grace of a grizzly bear. At the top-of-the-line post, he reached for Marisol. She pursed her lips to edge out her mounting fear, ignoring Tobias’s outstretchedhand as she tossed her jacket over the barbs. She climbed with lizard-like speed. Tobias landed with a grunt on his knees. Marisol flipped onto her feet from the top and stealthily walked down the hill toward the building.

“No!” Tobias whispered and pointed along the fence that ended at the riverbank. He ran toward the river. It flowed along the edge of the meatpacking district perpendicular to the slaughterhouse. Marisol followed. He jumped off the bank into ankle-deep water. He motioned toward the large storm drain that trickled into the river.

They were a football field’s length away from the building. Traces of a rotten egg odor wafted from the entrance, strong enough to give Marisol pause. “What are you doing?”

Tobias stooped inside the archway, heading into the sewer. “We need to investigate. They’re packing heat. Safe to say, we don’t want them to see us.”

“Why do our adventures involve the worst smells?” She jumped into the murky water. The cold temperature stabbed into her bones as it drenched her boots.

In the entryway, Tobias programmed the map function of his cell phone. “Don’t wanna get lost.” He led the way down the tunnel. The walls closed in enough that even Marisol walked with a hunch. As the water reached under Marisol’s knees, Tobias turned down a tunnel and held out his phone as alight source. The farther they were from the outside entrance, the more the air grew hot and thick. Without a breeze, the putrid stench engulfed them.

Twenty feet ahead, light streaked through a grate. Tobias looked at his phone and whispered, “Bingo.” Yet he walked slower, not upsetting the gray water at his shins.

Marisol dug her fingernails into her palms to keep quiet. As they approached the light, Tobias hugged his body against the wall. Faint voices and footsteps pattered above them. Marisol joined Tobias against the wall.

A guttural voice thick with spit said, “I think I found a new favorite toy.” She had heard that voice the last time she cowered in the dark. The Bloodsucker.

Meanwhile, a syrupy substance dripped between the grates and plopped into the water. Tobias reached out and rubbed the substance between his fingers. Even in the shadows, Marisol saw his lips move. “Blood.”

Marisol pushed by him; the water sloshed around her knees. Her fingers dug into the divots in the wall. She climbed, fighting the weak grip of her wet soles.

Then she heard his voice, raspy and frail, but its sonorous quality was unmistakable. “You’re... just a... copy of me.”

Between high-pitched wheezes of laughter, the Bloodsucker said, “A copy that’s stopped you.”

A loud crank followed by a sudden squeal and rumble of machinery shook the sewer walls. The sound covered Marisol’s splashing as she slipped down. She scaled the wall again, curling her toes into the uneven brick. Her fingers hooked through the holes in the grate. “Vincent,” she whispered.

The oppressive jangling of metal ceased. A singlepop!followed it, like snapping of latex gloves. Through the grate, she could only make out a fraction of the scene. Vincent swung from a rusted meat hook that pulled him by his iron-bound wrists. The metal chafed his wrists bloody. The grate cut into the creases of her fingers.

She slid back into the water for relief. She heard thepop!again followed by—oh, her heart—Vincent whimpering. Again, she climbed and fought through the pain in her hands. Vincent dangled with a mound of chains around his legs. Blood and sweat matted the hair on his mask-less head. He flinched. Her arm muscles screamed in pain as she pulled herself up to get a better look.

Then she heard it again, the dreadful popping noise. His body dropped for a moment. The chains at his feet scraped the floor even louder. Oh God. The popping! The scraping! What was it? The force of the hook and chain wrenched his shoulders from their sockets. She held her breath to stifle a gasp, to hold back the nausea of her flipping stomach. And fell back into the water. No! She leaped up the wall. The tips of her fingers turned purple. She needed to see. Vincent’s body jerked up. The magic healingmade the dislocation momentary. He was immune to the injury but not to pain. His breath heaved, in-out, in-out and—pop!He broke again. And again and again and again. How long could he take this before he became like them?

The Bloodsucker’s hooded head turned in her direction. Faceless circular rows of teeth pulsed toward a slimy maw, as if it could sense a mere droplet of Marisol’s essence. Plastic and cloth. Just plastic and cloth. It was only an illusion, but the nightmare—only days old—began once more.

The Bloodsucker jerked his head back to Vincent. Good, he hadn’t seen her, but there she was again, trapped, doomed to watch, and paralyzed by those teeth.

She took in a deep breath to scream.

Tobias’s giant hand cupped her mouth and yanked her down into the water. His fleshy paw muffled her cries. His other arm hooked her under her armpits, dragging her away. What in hell was he doing? Marisol thrashed against the wall of muscle, but he picked her up like a small child. She kicked and flailed wildly, to no avail. The light from the slaughterhouse became a flicker with distance. Vincent, tied up and bleeding, was farther and farther away from her. With another twist down a tunnel, the air became cool and fresh.

If Tobias wouldn’t help her, she’d have to do things herself. She only had to wriggle out of his grip. Crunch! She bit into Tobias’s palm, held overher mouth, and didn’t stop until she struck blood, but he grunted and held her tighter.

Outside the drain, he dropped her into a shallow pool. She faced her captor and seethed, picturing her eyes matching the black feral pupils that bored into her. She wiped the blood off her lips with the back of her hand. And saw red.

23

Selling Out

Tobias held his hand against his stomach and stomped. “Jesus, kid. I need a rabies shot!”

Unable to swallow, she spat away the bloody taste in her mouth. “What were you doing? You scared the shit outta me!”

“Stoppin’ you from something stupid.”

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