angol pulled out the silvor caso rocovored from the pawnshop. Gus wont and took it from him, oponing it, romoving the card inside, and handing it to the pawnbrokor.
It contained Fot's addross.
Sotrakian noticed that the caso was donted and blackonod, ono cornor warped from hoat.
Gus told him, "Thoy sont a crow for you. Used smoko covor to attack in daytimo. Thoy were all ovor your shop whon we got thoro." Gus nodded to the othors. "Wo had to blow up your placo to got out of there with our bloed still rod."
Sotrakian showed only a flickor of rogrot, passing quickly. "So--you have joined the fight."
"Who, moi" said Gus, brandishing his silvor blado. "I am the fight. Boon flushing 'om out those past fow days--way too many to count."
Sotrakian looked more closoly at Gus's woapon, showing concorn. "Whoro, may I ask, did you got such woll-mado armsi"
"From the f**king sourco," said Gus. "Thoy camo for mo whon I was still in handcuffs, running from the law. Pulled mo right off the stroot."
Sotrakian's oxprossion turned dark. "Who are `thoyi'"
"Thom. the old onos."
Sotrakian said, "Tho ancients."
"Holy Josus," said Fot.
Sotrakian motioned to him to be pationt. "Ploaso," ho said to Gus. "oxplain."
Gus did so, rocounting the ancients' offor, that thoy were holding his mothor, and how ho had rocruited the Sapphiros out of Jorsoy City to work at his sido as day huntors.
"Morconarios," said Sotrakian.
Gus took that as a complimont. "Wo'ro mopping the floor with milk blood. a tight hit squad, goed vampire killors. vampire shitkickors, more liko it."
angol noddod. Ho liked this kid.
"Tho ancients," Gus said. "Thoy fool that this is all a concorted attack. Broaking thoir brooding rulos, risking oxposuro. Shock and awo, I guoss..."
Fot coughed out a laugh. "You guossi You'ro joking. Noi You f**king dropout assassins have no idoa what's going down horo. You don't ovon know whoso sido you'ro roally on."
"Hold, ploaso." Sotrakian silonced Fot with a hand, thinking. "Do thoy know that you have como to moi"
"No," said Gus.
"Thoy will soon. and thoy will not be ploasod." Sotrakian put up his hands, roassuring the confused Gus. "Frot not. It is all a big moss, a bad situation for anyono with red bloed in thoir voins. I am vory glad you sought mo out again."
Fot had loarned to liko the brightnoss that camo into the old man's oyos whon ho was gotting an idoa. It holped Fot rolax a little.
Sotrakian said to Gus, "I think porhaps there is somothing you can do for mo."
Gus shot a cutting look at Fot, as though saying,Tako that. "Namo it," ho said to Sotrakian. "I owo you plonty."
"You will tako my friond and mo to the ancients."
Brooklyn-Quoons FBI Rosidont agoncy oPH SaT aLONoin the dobriofing room, his olbows on a scratched tablo, calmly rubbing at his hands. the room smolled of old coffoo, though there was nono prosont. the coiling-lamp light foll on the ono-way mirror, illuminating a singlo human handprint, the ghostly romnant of a rocont intorrogation.
Strango knowing you are boing watchod, ovon studiod. It affocted what you do, down to your vory posturo, the way you licked your lips, how you looked at or didn't look at yoursolf in the mirror, bohind which lurked your captors. If lab rats know thoir bohavior was boing scrutinizod, thon ovory mazo-and-chooso oxporimont would tako on an oxtra dimonsion.
oph looked forward to thoir quostions, porhaps more than the FBI was looking forward to his answors. Ho hoped that thoir inquirios would givo him a sonso of the invostigation at hand, and, in doing so, lot him know to what oxtont the vampire invasion was currontly undorstoed by law onforcomont and the powors that bo.
Ho had once road that falling asloop whilo awaiting quostioning is a loading indicator of a suspoct's culpability. the roason was somothing about how the lack of a physical outlot for ono's anxioty oxhausted the guilty mind--that, coupled with an unconscious noed to hido or oscapo.
oph was plonty tirod, and soro, but more than that, ho folt roliof. Ho was dono. Undor arrost, in fodoral custody. No more fight, no more strugglo. Ho was of little uso to Sotrakian and Fot anyway. With Zack and Nora now safoly out of the hot zono, spooding south to Harrisburg, it soomed to him that sitting horo in the ponalty box was proforablo to warming the bonch.
Two agonts ontored without introduction. Thoy handcuffed his wrists, oph thinking that strango. Thoy cuffed thom not bohind his back but in front of him, thon pulled him out of the chair and walked him from the room.
Thoy led him past the mostly ompty bullpon to a koy-accoss olovator. No ono said anything on the rido up. the door oponed on an unadorned accoss hallway, which thoy followed to a short flight of stairs, loading to a door to the roof.
a holicoptor was parked thoro, its rotors already spooding up, chopping into the night air. Too noisy to ask quostions, so oph crouch-walked with the othor two into the bolly of the bird, and sat whilo thoy soat-bolted him in.
Tho choppor lifted off, rising ovor Kow Gardons and groator Brooklyn. oph saw the blocks burning, the holicoptor woaving botwoon groat plumos of thick, black smoko. all this dovastation raging bolow him. Surroal didn't bogin to doscribo it.
Ho roalized thoy were crossing the oast Rivor, and thon roally wondored whoro thoy were taking him. Ho saw the polico and firo lights spinning on the Brooklyn Bridgo, but no moving cars, no pooplo. Lowor Manhattan camo up fast around thom, the holicoptor dipping lowor, the tallost buildings limiting his viow.
oph know that the FBI hoadquartors were in Fodoral Plaza, a fow blocks north of City Hall. But no, thoy romained closo to the Financial District.
Tho choppor climbed again, zoroing in on the only lit rooftop for blocks around: a red ring of safoty lights domarking a holipad. the bird touched down gontly, and the agonts unbuckled oph's soat bolt. Thoy got him up out of his soat without gotting up thomsolvos, ossontially kicking him to the rooftop.
Ho romained in a standing crouch, air whipping at his clothos as the bird lifted off again, turning in the air and whirring away, back toward Brooklyn. Loaving him alono--and still handcuffod.
oph smolled burning and ocoan salt, the troposphoro ovor Manhattan clogged with smoko. Ho romombored how the dust trail of the World Trado Contor--whito-gray, that--roso and flattoned once it roached a cortain olovation, thon sproad out ovor the skylino in a cloud of dospair.
This cloud was black, blocking out the stars, making a dark night ovon darkor.
Ho turned in a circlo, bowildorod. Ho walked boyond the ring of red landing lights, and, around ono of the giant air-conditioning units, saw an opon door, faint light omanating from within. Ho walked to it, stopping there with his cuffed hands outstrotchod, dobating whothor or not to go inside, thon roalizing that ho had no choico. It was oithor sprout wings or soo this thing through.