63. Vesper #2
Locke looks around at all the NPCs and realizes it the same time as I do. Most of the players are gone off the street. There is only our group and a few other stragglers looking around in confusion.
Locke waves his hand in front of the nearest NPC’s face, but it does nothing. The NPC continues to stare up at the sky, her eyes open wide and unblinking.
“Uh . . .” I say, backing toward the building. “Maybe we should—”
The sound of fluttering wings starts, soft at first, and then growing louder. I look up to see a large black mass of creatures moving as one across the sky, so thick, it begins to block out the sunlight.
“Nope,” Locke says, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the building Stryker had gone inside.
When we reach the door, I grab the handle and pull. It doesn’t move. Locked.
I bang on the door. “Stryker!”
“Perhaps this will teach you to listen to me, Beastie,” he says through the door. “Even if you can’t trust me.”
“Open up the door, you asshole!” I growl. “This definitely isn’t going to earn you any trust.”
He laughs. “I know.”
I turn and press my back to the door. “How far to the other buildings?”
Havoc rubs a hand down his face. “Too far. If we run now, we’ll be exposed. We’re going to have to fight.”
I grimace and pull my Fang from my inventory. “What exactly are we fighting?”
Havoc’s face is solemn as he draws his sword again and plants his feet. He glances at me, his eyes clashing with mine. With the look on his face, I expect it’s something big, something horrible.
“We’re fighting,” he says slowly, looking back the black mass above us, “pigeons.”
I blink. “Pigeons?”
“What the fuck is a pigeon?” Locke growls, shifting his Arctic Smite from one hand to the other.
“They’re tiny cameras with wings,” Havoc replies. “Controlled by Luxe bastards in the comfort of their homes. Every five weeks, they host one. It’s like a little party for them.”
I relax. “Oh, cameras don’t seem so bad.”
After all, we’ve known we’re being recorded since the first safehouse.
“You don’t understand,” Havoc says, shaking his head. “They’re not just cameras. They’re drones.”
“You keep using words we don’t know,” I growl. “Explain!”
“They’re sharp,” Havoc spits back. “They attack as a big group.”
“So, they can kill us?”
He looks at me. “They can strip your bones clean.”
Oh. Well . . . fuck.
“Cipher?” I ask. “Chances?”
“I cannot accurately estimate your survival chances because these creatures are controlled by an outside force.”
“Try,” I command.
“You have a thirty percent chance of surviving a direct attack on your face,” he says. “But only a five percent chance of retaining your eyesight.”
I start banging on the door again before Cipher is even finished. “Stryker! Open up! We’re going to die!”
“You won’t die,” he laughs. “You might hurt—”
“Please,” I grit out of my teeth, desperate to get off the street as the mass of pigeons blacks out the sunshine and the street grows dark. The NPCs don’t move as it draws closer.
Locke starts to hit the door, too, his strength making it shake, but it’s made of steel. It doesn’t budge. “Open the fucking door, Leech!”
“How about, no?” Stryker laughs on the other side of the door, safe.
Havoc doesn’t bother hitting the door. He just prepares himself, his sword in his hand, his fingers white knuckling the pommel.
“We are in trouble,” Svetlana says, shrinking against my neck. “I do not like birds.”
“They’re not real birds,” I tell her.
“Even worse,” she says. “They are being controlled by monsters.”
“Stryker!” I shout, hitting the door. “Please.”
Stevie looms around me, his light blaring bright. “I won’t be able to stop these creatures from harming you, Girl,” he warns. “You should totally do something.”
I can feel Stryker press against the door on the other side as I pull my mask down over my face to protect it. My senses awaken now that I’m a Tier Two and I can literally feel his form on the other side.
“What will you give me, Beastie?” he purrs, pressing his hand against the steel door.
I grit my teeth. “What do you want?”
“I need to feed—”
“Absolutely not,” I growl.
“Not from your life force,” he says. “Not like before. I require . . . blood.”
I blink and glance at Locke. “Are you asking for one of us to bleed for you.”
“No,” he coos. “I’m asking you to let me bite you, Beastie. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt. You’ll like it.”
“No,” Locke growls. “It’s too risky.”
“If we don’t get off this street, we’re going to die,” I point out. “Even Havoc isn’t saying anything.”
“Because he never says anything,” Locke argues.
“It’s because he knows some of us could die,” I growl back. “He’s mentally preparing himself!”
Locke glances at Havoc who doesn’t argue. He doesn’t even look at us, his jaw clenched tight as the pigeon swarm grows closer. “Fuck,” Locke snarls and then he kicks the door. “You can drink from me.”
“I don’t want the blood of a Bone Breaker,” Stryker hisses.
“Tough shit,” Locke growls. “Take it or leave it.”
“Then I require a kiss from Vesper.”
“Now you’re adding things?” I snarl. “Stryker open the damn door!”
“You give me one kiss and the Bone Breaker feeds me,” he says. “Swear it, and I’ll open the door.”
I grit my teeth and glance at Locke. He tips his chin down once and I scowl. “Fine. Now open the door!”
“Swear it,” he purrs.
“I swear, I swear,” I say, looking over my shoulder where the mass of pigeons begins to descend on top of us. “Now open the damn door!”
The pigeons dive and we all press against the door. “Stryker!” I scream.
The door opens just before the pigeons can hit us and we all go tumbling inside.
Stevie floats in after, lighting the dark stairwell as Stryker slams the door shut behind us.
The sound of the pigeons slamming against the steel door echoes loudly as they shriek in fury.
They don’t go away. They just keep hitting the door over and over again.
I’m panting, my heartbeat loud in my ears as I lay sprawled on the floor tangled with Locke and Havoc. “You fucking asshole,” I snarl up at Stryker where he stands over us.
He grins. “You wouldn’t have fed me otherwise.”
“You could have told someone,” I spit. “We could have figured something out.”
He shrugs. “This was much more fun.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “I hate you.”
His slow grin reveals the sharp canines in his mouth. “Good. Hate sex is the best sex.”
“I’m not fucking you,” I deny.
“No,” he purrs. “But you will be kissing me. You swore, remember?”