The Victorious Redemption Complete Series Boxed Set, page 14
Maybe Ivan’s right. Maybe my answer lies with the pack…
The thought was short-lived as she remembered the endless tales her mother had told her of the pack, how the primal group of werewolves was a dangerous group of people to get involved with.
“It’s a brutal way of living,” her mother told her. “A life cast in shadow and bathed in blood.”
No, I won’t, Jasmine thought. There was a reason her mother had left the pack. Jasmine wanted to honor that. Her thoughts trailed away as she scoured the rest of the printouts on the table.
Even the tone of Ruby’s replies indicated that the service they were holding would be mostly for closure for those working at the paper.
Jasmine scoffed. “Yeah, right. It’s not some kind of publicity stunt or anything.”
She made it through half of the papers when she came across a line that caught her attention. She picked up the paper and brought it closer to her face.
The email from Ruby read,
There still is no definitive proof from the investigators, but one can assume that Jasmine has fallen prey to the hazards of her profession. You don’t spend ten years working in a career like this without making some enemies. Although we are proud of her work, and she has given us much in the way of scoops with her investigative talent, it would appear that she had made some enemies and in the end, trodden over some lines that in hindsight maybe should not have been overstepped.
Jasmine cracked her neck. That was the closest thing to an admission of guilt she would ever see Ruby give, unsurprisingly sketched in carefully measured words that would not come back to haunt her or shoot her newspaper in the foot.
It was a dangerous business, diving into underground rings and exposing the truth of the darkness in the city’s underbelly, but the job paid highly for the risks they took.
Jasmine laughed, then put the paper down. “That’s the best they’ve got? I suppose without me working the case they’re unlikely to get anywhere near the truth. When I finally do expose this motherfucker, everyone’s gonna be very, very sorry they didn’t give me more credit before.”
Deciding to leave the papers on the table for fear of letting people know that someone had been rifling through their things, she arranged everything the way she remembered it when she’d entered the kitchen.
She scooped up her backpack, then triple-checked the information for her memorial service. She laughed in disbelief. “I never thought this would be information I’d need to remember, but there we go. What am I gonna plan to do with it? Attend my memorial service? Come on kid, what are you thinking?”
It seemed impossible, but that didn’t quell her curiosity about attending the event.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Junkies
Jasmine lay in the dark, clutching her little black dress to her chest. Strewn on the floor beside her were balls of scrunched-up paper, discarded and tossed into the space when frustration had beaten her because she ran into yet another dead end in her investigation.
She breathed slowly, utilizing the meditational breathing techniques she’d learned years ago to cope with the grief and loss of her mother, but it did little to sate the fire burning inside her. She wasn’t sure how effective they were since her chest no longer rose and fell, and she couldn’t feel her breath moving through her.
There has to be something I’m missing. There has to be. Unless I had a mental slip while I was underground, there must be something. This can’t be it. There’s always a way. There are always answers.
She lazily stroked her fingers across the dress, the satin as light and soft as air. She had tried the dress on earlier that night and found it didn’t fit as it once did. Thanks to Jasmine’s condition, her body had thinned since her awakening.
That’s how she referred to it now, as her “awakening.” Because what was the alternative? Would she allow herself to acknowledge the truth that she had risen from—what was scientifically declarable as—the dead?
No. She shook her head.
Frustration swallowed her.
Light attempted to peek through the curtains she’d closed in her little bedroom. It would be the last of the daylight she was allowed, and once darkness had taken over, another day would have passed in which she had failed to close in on Deshawne.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she muttered. She climbed off her bed and carefully put the dress back on its hanger before hanging it on the rod in the closet.
She rubbed her eyes, more out of habit, then left the room and headed down into the bar. The place was unsurprisingly spotless. Ivan still had the locks on the doors since the incident with the three, and the sign turned to “Closed.” He didn’t want to open the place until he’d made sufficient repairs and the Nest could resume its typical level of service.
“There she is!” a cheery voice called.
Jasmine paused in the doorway. Eddy sat at the bar with two glasses in front of him, the vodka already drained into the orange juice to make his customary screwdriver. “We were beginning to think you would never wake up. ‘Sleeping beauty’ and all that… You can get fucked if you think I’m going to be the one who kisses you.”
Jasmine smiled. To her surprise, she rushed over to Eddy and threw her arms around him.
“Easy there, tiger. I’m not in the market for romance.”
Jasmine pulled away and gave him a playful shove. “You think I am? I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with a restless toddler. Where the hell have you been? Ivan’s been trying to contact you for days.”
“Here and there,” Eddy replied. He raised a finger to Ivan, who had already sorted out a screwdriver for Jasmine.
Jasmine thanked him and dropped the vodka into the orange juice.
“How the devil have you been?” Eddy asked, the grin almost permanently attached to his face. “You settling in nicely? Is Ivan taking care of you? He hasn’t asked you to perform any special favors in exchange for you staying here, has he?” He mimed a phallic act with his fist and his tongue, and Jasmine burst out laughing.
“Not that kind of special favor. Although I am something of a door…man? Woman?” She composed herself. “I’m the new door guard.”
Eddy turned to the empty bar. “Looks like you’re doing a fantastic job. It’s the easiest way to do it. Make sure no one can come in, then no one can cause any trouble.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I know, I know,” Eddy soothed. “I’m just joshing you. Ivan explained the scrap you guys had the other night. That’s why I’m here. Not only because the proverbial bat signal summoned me, but luckily your boy right here gets fantastic discounts on replacement parts. I’ve measured the place. I’ll sort out all the gear to get the tables and chairs back as they were, and you can get this place up and running again.”
He nodded at Ivan. Ivan ignored him and busied himself cleaning, although Jasmine couldn’t understand what he saw that was dirty. The place was spotless.
“So, seriously.” Eddy lowered his voice as Ivan crossed around the bar and busied himself in the kitchen. “How are you? From what Ivan told me, things don’t look too good.”
Jasmine shook her head. “Suffice to say that I’m no closer to finding answers. It’s killing me. I feel like I’m circling a drain but getting no closer. I’m only getting dizzy.”
“Can I ask what answers you’re looking for?” Eddy asked. “Maybe I can help.”
Jasmine considered telling him but discovered that despite wanting to, she simply couldn’t. Her mission was personal. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Does it have anything to do with what Ivan called the ‘new operation?’” Eddy pressed. “It seems like those guys have been giving you some trouble over the last few days. You’re not alone in that. It looks like the whole city’s bristling.”
“What do you mean? Who are they? What’s going on?”
“To explain that, we need to set the scene. I don’t know how much of this you know. You have a keen eye for minutia, but it was obvious from the look in your eyes when those assholes in the alley pulled out their Crim that a lot of this is all new to you.”
Images of the blood-red liquid appeared in Jasmine’s mind as she waited patiently.
Eddy continued. “There’s a dark underbelly in the city. It’s not just drugs, sex, and crime. It’s hidden in the supernatural spectrum—that which chooses to remain hidden from public view. You know this, you fall within that category, so I’m not telling you anything new here.
“What you might not know is that the local blocks of organized crime in this area tend to be descendants of Eastern Europeans that flocked over to America in the late eighties. The monarchs, patriarchs, matriarchs, all the kingpins and…queenpins—is that even a word?—they all hail from overseas.
“This is nothing new. Films, TV shows, and books have warned us about Russians and the like for many years, but decades have passed since the eighties, and many new generations fall within the category of ‘American born.’
“Luckily for me, it’s much harder to identify the scum in this place. We can no longer look out the window, see a sharp-nosed man in a suit with greased-back hair, and know that we have to deal with some Italian mafia drug lord.
“Now, organized crime looks like anyone and anything. Hence, how myself, a Latino, can skirt the periphery of the various rings and stick my nose in where it’s mostly not wanted.”
“Sounds like a dream job,” Jasmine quipped.
Eddy turned his lip up in mock derision. “Yeah, you could say that. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, but I tend to find a certain level of catharsis in what I do.”
“What exactly is it that you do?”
Eddy tapped his nose. “That’s on a need-to-know basis. I will say those assholes we met in the alley, the same sect of assholes who invaded this place and attempted to intimidate our dear old mutual friend Ivan, are from a minor outfit that seems to be growing very, very quickly in power.
“They first appeared a few months ago thanks to a very serious and healthy backing from some very serious and rich people. Said people have managed to manufacture a new kind of substance, which they are using to—how do I say this?—enhance their goons and turn them into a kind of supersoldier.”
“That would be the Crim,” Jasmine replied.
Eddy nodded. “You know its effects?”
Jasmine recalled her fight in the bar—the men’s swollen muscles, grown pupils, and the sudden resistance to her punches and attacks. “It levels them up, bulks their muscles, and gives them strength beyond human limits.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Eddy corrected. “Not beyond human. The people digesting this substance are still human but temporarily enhanced. Think of it as a more controllable version of PCP. You temporarily receive a boost to your strength, immune system, and everything that makes you human, pushing it to the limits of what humans can achieve.”
A strange look crossed Eddy’s face.
“What is it?”
Eddy sighed. “We’re still looking into it. This substance, ‘Crimson,’ is growing in use among this ‘New Operation’ as they like to call themselves. More and more reports are reaching me of people carrying red liquid in glass bongs and the superpowers that imbue the humans ingesting it. There is something weird going on here, something really fucking weird, bruja-type shit.”
“Holy shit,” Jasmine replied. “How come this stuff hasn’t made it to the papers? How come it’s not on surface level?”
“Because they’re careful. You have to be when you do shit like this. It’s hard enough trying to keep it on the down-low in the supernatural world, let alone having to deal with all of the problems and explosions that spin off from power trips like this.”
As Eddy said the word “supernatural,” he nodded at Ivan.
Jasmine frowned. “You know about him?”
“Of course I do. It’s my job to know.”
“Then how come you didn’t tell me before you put me into the hands of a Russian fairy?”
Eddy shrugged. “It’s not my place, is it? Same way it wasn’t my place to tell Ivan what you are.” Jasmine gave him a look. “A lobo, right?” He smirked. Jasmine didn’t know what to make of it.
“What do we do about this operation?” Jasmine changed the subject. “If it’s growing as you say it is, something needs to be done.”
Eddy considered this while leaning on the bar. “From what I can gather, the operation is far from finding its foundation on stable footing. They’re gaining a reputation, but they’re making enemies on the way.
“If someone can bloody their nose enough, all the money in the world isn’t going to stop the other groups in the local area from going on a feeding frenzy and tearing them apart.
“The group knows this, and that’s what makes them dangerous. They know that even a small drop of blood will bring in the sharks and piranhas. They want to lurk in the shadows until they’re large enough to emerge and swallow the rest whole.”
He gave Jasmine a weary glance. There was something behind his eyes she couldn’t read. “Whatever happens next, we need to watch ourselves,” he finished. He stepped away, joining Ivan and leaving Jasmine to process what she’d heard.
Eddy and Ivan set to their repairs, or as much as they could get done with limited stock. Whoever Eddy’s source was for delivering the needed materials had only provided some of the items so far.
Jasmine sat by the front door, watching them putter around. She offered to help, but both men declined, stating that she would simply get in the way. Ordinarily Jasmine might have argued, but she found it entertaining to watch the pair communicate with each other.
It was obvious that Ivan could have dealt with it all by himself. After all, with his Russian fairy lineage, he had a certain knack for getting things done. Of the few pieces of furniture they did have delivered, Ivan’s were ready long before Eddy had placed the last bolts into his.
Jasmine sat with her head against the window, turning her attention from the comedy show in the center of the Nest to the outside world.
For a long time, the street was quiet. Apart from the occasional car or distant chatter of civilians in the city, there was little to note.
“If you give me a minute, I can do it myself,” Eddy complained. He had been struggling with a chair leg for the better part of five minutes, tongue sticking out as he tried to lock the piece in place and find the hole for the bolt.
Ivan’s calm exterior slipped as his frustration grew. He snatched the bolt and leg from Eddy, then found the location without any friction.
“I told you, I can do it,” Eddy shot back, his pride wounded by how swiftly Ivan had put the pieces together.
“I need to open. I can’t make living with place closed. You made impossible to contact you. Now I still wait for materials. Can’t you make men move faster?”
Eddy threw up his hands.
Jasmine got the impression from Eddy’s general demeanor that wherever he sourced the missing materials, it wasn’t anyplace licensed or official. Who knew how long that could take? She could understand Ivan’s annoyance.
“I’ll get it sorted,” Eddy replied. “I know a few hombres who offer pretty keen deals. Come on, man. I’ve sorted you out before, haven’t I? Trust little old Eddy.”
Ivan narrowed his eyes but didn’t reply.
Jasmine chuckled. She looked between the pair, thinking that somehow, in a weird, messed-up way, this was the closest thing she got to friends or family these days.
She studied Ivan, her mind straying to their conversation, his mention of Jasmine finding her pack and returning to her old family, her real family.
Her mirth died. In her mind’s eye, she saw snarling maws stringed with saliva, rusty trailers, men in sleeveless shirts with bulging muscles and grim expressions, a whole congregation of primal aggressive Weres—a place she hoped never to visit.
Could that truly be her only salvation to find the answers she required?
She turned her attention back to the street. She straightened upon seeing several figures standing across the road, looking at the Stryga’s Nest. They stood in the same place Qadir had been the other night, with the same silhouetting effect from the overhead street light.
Jasmine rose from her chair and without looking at Eddy and Ivan, told them she’d be right back. They were so involved in the final throes of their repairs that they didn’t bat an eye as Jasmine unlocked the front door and headed outside.
She expected to confront the watchers, walk across the street and teach them the same lesson she’d taught the rest of their peers. They all looked like members of the New Operation. She still had no clue what it really was, but they wore the same outfit and had the same look. Jasmine didn’t hesitate to make the connection since their number seemed to be swelling with each night that passed.
If I’m not careful, I might need to find some backup. It’s not like Ivan and Eddy seem to have much to offer in a fight.
When she opened the door, rather than finding the fools waiting to confront her, they had already taken off. She heard their footsteps and found them racing down the street toward a lone figure sprinting a few meters ahead of them.
Jasmine’s eyes widened. Qadir? What the hell is he doing back here?
She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew nothing good could come out of the situation. An imaginary coin toss decided that she’d rather help the man who claimed to know her father than leave him to the fate of these four brutes. She made it across the street, running at an angle to shrink the distance between them.
Halfway across the road, she realized the discoordination that had plagued her since her awakening was still there. It was like running while intoxicated. Despite this, she achieved a pace that even she found alarming. Compared to her speed as a full-blown wolf, this was even more impressive. She was almost tempted to try shifting into her Were form but decided against it, opting instead to remain human.
They reached Qadir before she did. She heard one of them spewing something about Crim, and for a moment she was terrified they would reach into their pockets and hit doses of the enhancing substance.
