Immortal Killers Page 8

  They reeked of alcohol and dressed like a gang, though they were unusually diverse — two Latinos, a black man, and their leader, an Asian fellow with a white bandanna and a sly smirk. They wanted to look tough, and they certainly had trouble on their minds. They congregated by the sliding doors, murmuring and laughing, checking out who made the likeliest victim.

  The Asian fellow lingered his eyes on Nathan, but Nathan’s calm glare back turned him away. That impressed Nathan. Most punks would take a glare as a challenge and get themselves in all sorts of trouble trying to prove their manhood. This guy saw Nathan’s calm, saw his lack of fear, and realized that Nathan was not to be trifled with.

  As expected, their attention turned to the young woman in the back. “Well, well,” the leader said as the group moved in on her. She had dark hair and a portly figure. Pretty, but awkward, too — a perfect target for these kinds of idiots. “Hey, sugar, what you doin’ all alone here? It’s dangerous.”

  “Tell her, Red,” the black man said.

  Red dropped into the seat next to her. “Don’t you worry. We’ll protect you. Why, I’ll take you straight to your home. Walk you right to your door. How’s that sound?”

  The others laughed and slapped hands together.

  “Excuse me,” Nathan said, his voice carrying across the train car. “The young lady would like to be left alone.”

  The whole gang turned towards him. The girl’s eyes widened at his brazen voice. But she also held her breath, waiting to see how this all played out.

  Red made a big deal out of laughing as he moved in closer. “Ho, ho, will you guys look at this pecker. He thinks he’s going to be a hero.” His friends followed him until they had formed a semi-circle around their new target. “Is that right, Pecker? You going to save the pretty girl?”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes straight at Red. “You’re in a bit of trouble here, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, am I?” Red laughed and his buddies laughed, too.

  “You saw me here when you got on, but you decided not to mess with me. That was smart. But then you went after the girl. And unfortunately for you, today’s a day when I feel like saving a girl. Which brings us to your trouble. You don’t really want to screw with me, but now you’re kind of stuck because if you back off, your friends aren’t going to see you the same anymore.”

  “Shut up, old man. I’ll fuck you up.”

  Nathan glanced across the other faces — they all had doubts about the situation, but they would follow Red. At least, for the moment.

  “Tell you what,” Nathan said. “All of you guys can get out of this without as much as a scratch, if you simply step back and get off at the next stop. Give Red here a break.”

  Red flicked out a switchblade. “You shut up or I’ll gut you.”

  “Last chance. Let Red off the hook or you’re all going to pay.”

  One of the Latinos said, “Yo, Red, maybe we should —”

  “Fuck off, Digger. There’s four of us.”

  As Red turned his head to eye Digger, Nathan grabbed Red’s wrist and twisted hard. The switchblade dropped to the floor and Nathan stood. He jabbed two fingers into Digger’s throat — not hard enough to kill the kid but he wouldn’t be talking much for the next few days. Nathan twisted Red’s wrist further, forcing Red to turn his body or risk breaking his bones.

  Taken by surprise, the other two were slow to react. Nathan counted on that to give him time to position his legs into a sturdy stance. From there, he had no trouble kicking the kneecap of one and the Achilles tendon of the other. While they cradled their injuries, Nathan wrenched Red around one last time and kneed him in the chest, breaking a rib with an audible crack.

  The subway train pulled into a brightly lit station. The doors slid open. Nathan gestured to the woman in the back. “I think you’d be wise to leave now.” She hurried off, stopped, came back and pecked Nathan on the cheek before running off again.

  The homeless man stirred a little but not enough to fully wake up. Nathan returned to his seat and waited for the next stop. The gang of four scooted away to the other side of the train car. When his stop came, none of them dared to look at him.

  He walked up to the surface still able to feel the kiss on his cheek. That settled it for sure. Once he delivered the black book, he would plan his escape and start doing some good in the world. It might take him years to succeed, but he was immortal now — a few years would be nothing. More importantly, he would have to find a way to disappear, maybe fake his death; otherwise, Octavia and her people would never stop hunting him. They would want their body back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After a few blocks, he finally arrived at a walk-up in Brooklyn. Most of the buildings on this block stopped at five floors or less. This one towered above them — a walk-up until around floor eight, then stretching up another eight floors. He pressed the call bell and waved at the security camera lodged in the corner of the outside awning. The door buzzed as it unlocked.

  He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. The floors he went by all looked the same — a long hall with a chipped, tile floor giving access to five apartments, each designated by a door painted brown with shiny, stick-on numbers.

  On the fourth floor, he knocked on Room 2. Octavia opened and put out her hand. “You have the black book?”

  Nathan held the book up so she could see it, but he did not hand it over. “Are we flying back or are the others in this group here?”

  Folding her arms, Octavia said, “They’re here. It’s time you meet them. Come on.”

  She stepped aside and gestured toward the living room. Nathan entered the apartment which consisted of a narrow hall with a living room on the left, a kitchen on the right, and two doors further down which appeared to be a bedroom and a bathroom. He went into the living room.

  Two men sat on the lip of a long couch. Judging by the torn fabric and faded color, nobody in the group was putting too much effort or money into comfort. From even a glance at the wall of monitors, computers, and other equipment, clearly, the money went to the tech.

  Octavia slid by Nathan and sat on the arm of the couch. “This is our tech genius, Clockwork,” she said and pointed to a slovenly dressed man.

  Clockwork had a gaunt face, stubble, and dark, deep-set eyes. His hair shot off in odd directions and he smelled like an ashtray. But when he looked up at Nathan and smiled, his presence warmed the room. “My real name’s Devin, but I like Clockwork. It’s a steampunk thing.”

  Octavia pointed to the other man. “And this is Mr. Larkin.”

  Nathan’s body tensed — part of him had thought he would never meet Mr. Larkin. The head of this strange group appeared equally strange. Pale with thin, white hair, the man wore a pinstriped suit and three rings — each gold with a different gemstone. He had an effeminate manner, yet Nathan knew not to underestimate the man. After all, he had the strength to corral Octavia into this group.

  “Welcome,” Mr. Larkin said in a whispery yet dangerous voice. He placed his palm out and turned his lips into a crooked, wrinkled grin. “The book, please.”

  Nathan wanted to storm over, slap the black book in Mr. Larkin’s hands, and tell them all off. But he knew such a rash move would only result in his death — and then the Darkness. If he wanted to be free of them, he would have to play it quietly until he found a way out.

  Yet he paused with the book in his hand. Not long, but enough for Mr. Larkin to know that the book was being handed over with reservation. Then Nathan placed it in Mr. Larkin’s hands and stepped back.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Larkin said with caution lathering each word. “I gather you are unhappy with your current situation. Believe me, I fully understand. But you must also understand that our methods for helping a newcomer to the world of the immortal have been honed over several centuries. The process of training on Balhova, of facing your old life here, and of taking on your first mission has had a remarkable success rate. Before all of this, back in the days when a newco
mer was simply told what they had become and what it meant, the suicide rate was quite high. The death rate of foolhardy souls running into the action without proper training was even higher.”

  “So this was all just for me? Gee, thanks.”

  “No need to be snide. Of course, this wasn’t all for you. It is for the body that hosts you. That is irreplaceable. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a soul. And those are easily found. Like me, like Octavia or Victoria or Clockwork. We can all be replaced. Our bodies, however, cannot.” Mr. Larkin tucked the black book in his coat pocket before crossing his legs in an uncomfortable attempt to appear comfortable. “It takes time to absorb all that you now know. We will be patient with you. In the meantime, you should focus on our group and our purpose.”

  “Is that an invitation to join or a demand?”

  “You are stubborn — which I like, only I do not like it directed towards me.” He spread his hands to indicate all the others in the room. “We are called the Larkin Group and we are here to help the world.”

  Even if it screws over the individuals, Nathan thought.

  “You’ve done an excellent first job. Please, go back to our island with Victoria. Get some rest, collect your thoughts, and be ready. When we return, you will learn and understand all the good we do and why being part of us is your best option.”

  Mr. Larkin made a slight motion with his head, and Victoria placed her hand on Nathan’s arm. “Come,” she said.

  As Nathan turned to go, he noticed one monitor with an image of a woman crossing a small town street on a cold afternoon. Decorated evergreens could be seen in the distance — Christmas. Though the woman wore a thick bundle of clothing, he could see she had cropped blond hair. Nathan had little doubt who she was.

  “You found her,” he said before he could stop himself.

  Mr. Larkin offered a satisfied nod. “You remember her, then?”

  “Of course I remember her. I’ve been staring at her picture for months.”

  “And yet, you’ve never reported remembering any key details from that night.” Larkin dismissed any rebuttal with a sniff and a turn of his head. “Despite your failures, we’ve narrowed our search for her considerably.”

  “Then why haven’t you done anything yet? Go save her.”

  “That’s exactly what we intend to do.”

  Nathan stepped closer into the room, but Mr. Larkin raised his index finger and moved it from side to side. He offered a slim smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dropping into a deeper register. “I’m sure you want to help, but your time is not here yet. Trust our process. This one is our mission to accomplish. You’ll get another chance soon enough.”

  Mr. Larkin lowered his head to confer with Clockwork and Octavia. His dismissal of Nathan required nothing else. Victoria again nudged for Nathan to follow.

  As he turned away, his eyes darted from screen to screen, trying to take in as much information as possible. Crystal had been with her current main soul for seventy-five years. The file open date was four years ago. And though Clockwork attempted to close down one of the screens, Nathan glimpsed enough — words like Terminate and Body Recovery told him everything.

  Mr. Larkin had no intention of saving Crystal from her captor. Instead, he wanted her executed and her body outfitted with a new soul.

  Following Victoria up several flights of stairs, Nathan wondered if Crystal had ever been given the choice to join or if she also had been shanghaied like him. Except that implied that either of them had been targeted. For him, at least, that had not been the case. Jake had taken Nathan’s life and soul in a desperate attempt at survival. It had all been a matter of wrong place, wrong time.

  But that meant nothing in the long run. The fact remained that Nathan belonged to Mr. Larkin and if he attempted to leave, they would hunt him down and take his body away. Exactly as they were planning to do to Crystal.

  Yet she had managed to elude them for over a year. That little fact suggested that they weren’t as omnipotent as they wanted him to think. And that sparked a single flame inside Nathan.

  At the top of the stairs, Victoria opened a door that led to an elevator. They entered and rode straight to the roof. A helicopter waited for them. Of course. Mr. Larkin’s money allowed him to have a helicopter in a Brooklyn neighborhood. Nathan’s tiny flame burst into a small fire — he hated to see rich people get special treatment because those with authority were greedy.

  Victoria pulled out a set of keys and headed for the pilot’s seat. She moved with nonchalance as if being allowed to fly a helicopter onto the roof of a residential building was her right. The same attitude Mr. Larkin had with their lives. That set his jaw tight.

  Nathan recalled the night of Crystal’s death. The Larkin Group had been watching her for years. They either knew of her feelings for Jake or they had Jake reporting to them — or they simply observed. Whatever the case, they knew. Which meant they also knew about Russo. Yet despite all their surveillance, Octavia arrived moments after Crystal was killed — just in time to save Jake.

  Was that a planned execution? Except Crystal had managed to escape before she could be returned to the island, booted out of her body, and replaced with a more compliant soul. He couldn’t be sure that was what had happened, but after a year going over the events every night, he thought it made more sense than anything else. All the details clicked.

  And if the Larkin Group could do that, what about him? What were the chances he would survive the helicopter ride back? Octavia had said his disobeying orders had been expected, that he had passed their test — but now that seemed like another lie. All of it was nothing but lies told to keep him acting like a sheep.

  The small fire within Nathan roared into an inferno as if it had found a hidden pocket of nitrogen. She never had a chance to react. He rushed forward, cupped the back of her head, and slammed her into the side of the helicopter. She made a short sound as her eyes rolled and her dazed face spun towards him. A chop at the base of the head sent her down, assuring him that she would stay unconscious for a few hours.

  “So much for spending the next few years planning a quiet escape.” He glanced at the helicopter. “I’ve got to learn to fly one of these things.” But that would have to wait. He needed to find a way out of the building without alerting Mr. Larkin and the others.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Crap,” he said. He had not intended to act so rashly, but the last twenty-four hours had worn down his judgement.

  No, he thought, don’t lie to yourself. You were waiting for an opportunity and they made you angry enough to take it.

  Nathan shook off the thoughts. He could debate himself another time. He had five minutes to spare at the most. Soon, either Mr. Larkin or Clockwork or Octavia would notice the absence of a loud helicopter whirring off into the sky. Octavia would be sent upstairs to find out what had happened, and then it would all be known.

  He checked over the sides of the building. No ladder, no easy jump to another rooftop, no way down. Back to the elevator.

  As it descended, he made a quick plan. He would take the stairs to the first available floor, skirt through the hall and find access to the roof of a neighboring building or a fire escape. Then down to street level and take the first subway entrance. Simple, quick, and with a little luck, effective.

  The elevator doors slid open to the stairwell. Octavia stared up at him from the landing one flight down. Her face dropped. Only for a second. Then her glare intensified and her nostrils flared.

  “Stop!”

  Nathan pressed the only button on the panel — back to the roof. The doors slid shut as Octavia barreled toward him. She whipped out a Dan Wesson revolver and pulled off two shots. Both hit the back of the elevator. As he soared upward, Nathan had no illusions of safety. There had to be another way to the roof, and Octavia would know it. He gave himself an extra thirty seconds to a minute before she reached the top.

  When the doors opened, he dashed across the roofto
p, his mind searching for any easy solution. Think, think, think. On the opposite side of the helicopter, he saw the stair access door — that was where Octavia would come. He could shoot her, but she would simply come back. Except … Nathan grinned. He knew what to do.

  He checked his MP, made sure it had a round in the chamber, and found a good position next to the helicopter. The moment she came through the door, he would have his shot. The bulky helicopter provided him with cover. Then, he would see if his plan worked.

  Thirty seconds went by. Forty. A minute. A minute ten. A minute twenty.

  He glanced back at the elevator thinking she might have waited for it to return, but it stood there with its doors open. What was she up to? The answer came a moment later.

  The stairwell door banged open, but Octavia did not emerge. Instead, she tossed out a small can. Green smoke poured out of its seams. In seconds, the stairwell was lost in a shroud of green fog.

  Clever enough, but Octavia had trained Nathan well. Rather than stay beside the helicopter, hoping to see her somehow, he decided to use the smoke to his advantage. He scurried across the roof until he pressed right up against the wall to the stairwell. He moved fast and listened closely. Not one footfall. She was still in the stairwell.

  Keeping low, he whipped around the corner and shot three times down the stairs. But the bullets only dug into the brick wall. She wasn’t there.

  Crap. She had moved so silently, he never heard a single step. Which meant she was on the roof. Which meant —

  He spun around, throwing a blind backfist. It missed Octavia but saved his life — one of them. She had been ready to shoot him in the back of the head. His sudden attack had forced her to sidestep.

  She came right back with a fist to his jaw. She aimed her Dan Wesson revolver, but he threw his arm upward, catching the weapon on his forearm. Her shot whizzed by his ear. He brought his handgun up close, hoping to tear apart her stomach, but her arm rammed down sending his shot into the rooftop.