Page 71 of Midnight Coven

Mansions like something from the gilded age, they were surrounded by high walls, with their own legions of staff, security, gardeners, even land mines and drone defense systems. The people who could afford those dwellings were the richest left on the continent.

Yet, strangely, the area outside those high walls, between the houses and the dome, was wilder than anything Nick had seen up in the Northeastern Protected Area.

Of course, even the wilderness was more intensely locked down and privately controlled than anything else in any of the protected areas. Nick had heard rumors they released wild animals out there to discourage squatters on the land, or anyone who might try to get too close. Lions, tigers, wolves, bears… even some genetically engineered creatures that either never existed in nature or had been extinct for millions of years… were rumored to wander in those forests, kept alive by regular infusions of game animals for them to eat.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course.

Initially wiped out by tsunamis and the intense storms that predated the domes, the cities covering Long Island eventually lost the ability to build most of it back. A mass exodus occurred not long after, with many of them moving north and south of New York altogether. For Brooklyn that meant much of it had gone to polluted swampland and industrial storage.

Then the domes got built.

Much of Brooklyn and Queens got rebuilt soon after.

Long Island itself, meaning everything past Brooklyn and Queens, decided to go a different route. Most of the land had gone back to fields and forest, ponds and streams, and the rich people decided they wanted that land for themselves. Soon the whole area was walled off, inhabited only by those rich enough to maintain a house out there.

Nick had no doubt St. Maarten owned property out in the private zone somewhere.

Likely a palatial estate with a pristine view of a real lake or river.

Most of those properties were secret.

Ownership was kept strictly confidential, and the security teams that patrolled those areas would be as likely to murder any trespassers as detain them. Nick suspected they could do either without facing much in the way of legal repercussions. Possibly they would have to file a cursory report with local law enforcement––cops of the caliber of those two assholes Rob and Rick. Maybe the rich landowners would pay some kind of minor “convenience” fee to get the body disposed of, but that would be the end of it.

They would never see the inside of a courtroom, much less a jail cell.

People that rich made their own laws.

“You still in touch with Jordan?” Nick asked, glancing at Morley.

“You could call him yourself,” Morley retorted.

“Actually I can’t,” Nick said. “The headset’s a loaner. I can receive but I can’t call out. Not until I get the one registered to me. None of my codes are in this one.”

“Oh. Right.” He glanced at Nick, and his expression lost some of its hardness. “No wonder you’re being such a bossy fuck with me on the comms.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Just once. He told me he’d reached the outside gate.”

“For the road?”

“The house,” Morley said. “The mansion in Amityville.”

Nick nodded, letting his eyes shift back to the side window.

He wished he could calm down.

He still felt off though, like he was waiting for the next shoe to drop.

He tried not to think about his dream with the baby and the crying woman.

Morley took them along the train corridor drive through the center of Brooklyn. Nick looked at the night clubs and bars, the small dark storefronts and virtual game sites. He saw a few new restaurants he didn’t recognize and a number of fight centers that had popped up, a few of which he knew he’d be fighting in soon. Farlucci had been calling more lately, talking to him about his schedule and when he’d be available in the ring.

A few minutes later, they passed into Queens.

Not much changed between the two areas.

They seemed to go through that smaller segment of Queens a lot faster, though. As they passed the last of the train stations, the road thinned of lit buildings and virtual advertisements shockingly fast.

---