The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) (16 page)

Maxim continued. "For two years, you stole people, not to help them, but for profit."

Diego needed to stop this. "Maxim, this isn't helping," he cautioned.

"For two years, you let her kill people."

"Shut up," warned Diego.

A darkened crease formed on Deborah's brow. "What else could I do?" she spit back.

"I'm a cop!" he yelled. "You could have told me about it."

Deborah exploded into defiant laughter. Even the stoic Doka let down his guard and released a bellowing chuckle. He lowered his weapon and squatted down on his perch on the train car and watched with amusement.

Mom recovered from her hysterics. "Open your eyes, Maxim. You don't think the CDC controls the offices of the mayor and the marshal?"

The marshal. If he was in with Mom, then the backup that Maxim was expecting might not have been on the way. If the three of them were without support out here, truly alone, then what chance did they have of making it out alive?

"Why do you think none of the other cops, the sensible cops, come anywhere near us?" Mom banged her gun against the steel drum in the middle of the courtyard and took a moment to contain her rage. "A rule which, I might remind you, you used to wisely obey."

"Listen to me," urged Diego, stepping forward. "Deborah, you know what drove us to ignore your warnings. You know why we are here now. For us, this has never been about you."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I do. From the beginning, I've said all I cared about was Angelica." The biker exchanged a heartfelt look with the girl. "I just wanted my sister. I know you were being forced to keep a secret. I understand why you couldn't help me before. We can put that behind us."

Mom pursed her pink lips as if she were considering his words, although Diego was unconvinced that she wasn't acting. "And what about the detective?" she asked.

Diego looked to the man who had been standing firm with indignation. Since the night they had first met, after Diego had mentioned unexplained disappearances, the detective had shown a newfound spirit ignited within him. Was it possible now, after everything that had occurred, for the fire to be quenched?

"We can come to an agreement," Maxim afforded.

Mom seemed to scoff under her breath, and she paced around the barrel and Nithya. "Maxim," she said, talking to the air more than him, "the uncompromising detective, about to allow me to go free?" There was something in her eyes that was telling.

Diego backed up. "Don't do this, Mom. We can go. We can just go."

Doka chuckled. "Go?" he boomed. "You've had plenty of chances to go." The callous man regained his feet.

"I'm afraid any cooperation from Maxim on this matter is impossible." Mom shot Diego a scornful look. "I ain't your mom, and I hate to break it to you, but I sent your sister to Nithya under the precise assumption that she would end up in the tank." Deborah's dialog became more bellicose, and the sun again glinted orange off her eyes. "This slut," she said, pointing at Angelica, "fucked her way into my club, attaching herself to Gaston as if that was a free pass. Then, when the idiot finally wised up and realized that she didn't love him, she turned her charm onto Melody."

A smug look flashed across Angelica's face. She put her hands on her hips and stood with one leg shot out to the side. It was just as if she were having an argument with a high school friend. Somehow the presence of armed men didn't sway her, and it almost appeared as if she were looking for a fight.

"Can you imagine?" asked Mom in disdain. "One of my own. A lesbian! Falling in love with this short thing? A cute smile and a full behind, and Melody was putty in her arms. Disgusting!"

The biker saw Maxim's stern expression and realized the reason for it. The detective was unyielding to some extent, that was sure, but there was more here. Because of his wife, he'd had a relationship with Deborah. He knew her, maybe better than anyone here, even Doka. Maxim had probably known that they were dead men the moment she had stepped between the train cars and revealed herself.

Now, with the revelation that Mom was planning to have Angelica killed all along, their fate was all but sealed. Conversation wasn't getting them out of this, and the marshal wasn't coming.

Diego shied the high sun away with his arm. Doka stepped to the side and eclipsed the blinding light. His silhouette on top of the train car outlined a menacing figure. The rifle he held fired faster and had more bullets than the pistol in Diego's hand. Sure, he had silver and they didn't, but when did a copperhead ever lack efficacy against human flesh? The three of them weren't surviving a shootout.

The sun caught his eyes again. Doka was shifting back and forth. The man was getting antsy. Something was making him restless. Mom, too, continued to pace in the courtyard.

Aggressiveness, agitation, malcontent—those were all signs that Diego had been trained for years to look for. How long did they have?

Like a man treading water with the final life of his muscles, Diego had to stall for time. It seemed futile to bargain for only a moment more of life, but Maxim had stayed Deborah's gun and the CDC woman was still alive. She might still end up dead, but other possibilities existed. That's all that mattered.

And so Diego, too, began the dance.

Deborah tilted her head to the sides as she stretched her neck muscles. Once again she raised the gun, only this time, it was pointed at Angelica.

"You're focusing on the wrong person," said the biker. Diego readied his hand in case he needed to fire.

Mom fluttered her eyelids dismissively. "Oh, I'm quite sure I want her dead."

Diego took a step towards Doka's train car to diminish his firing angle. "Not death. I'm speaking of acceptance."

Deborah wasn't comfortable. She was annoyed that she didn't know what he was talking about. "What?" she asked unceremoniously.

"My sister has always had dangerous tastes—that's why she landed on the doorstep of your clubhouse—but no one is forcing you to accept her. The Seventh Sons don't need to vote her in. As president, you could guarantee that. Accepting Angelica was never your real concern."

Diego looked to the Yavapai in the opposite corner. The man had a bead on Maxim, who was further out into the courtyard than Diego was. The detective was closer to Mom, and Doka had a clearer line of sight to him too. The biker shot Maxim a glare to give him a heads-up that it was almost time. He could only hope the man understood the message.

Diego saw Mom watching him with a suspicious eye. "You asked the question," he said. "A long time ago, dedicated mothers and fathers, who would never otherwise have dreamt of hurting their children, hiked out into the unmapped woods and placed their babies in the grass. Boys would be abandoned simply for being a seventh son. These children were communally considered unlucky and were feared to be—"

"Werewolves," finished Deborah, putting her gun at her hip and stepping closer to the biker. There was something curious about the way she studied him. "Are you a fan of historical mythology, Diego?"

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. "It was never my best subject, but the Commissioned Corps maintained an active interest in such matters."

Doka grumbled and Deborah's orange eyes lit up. "So you're an assassin?"

"I didn't like the killing. I quit."

"I see," said Mom with a scornful look. "So you're a killer who's studied your prey. It doesn't surprise me that you know the origins of our name."

"I also know of the lesson."

A spiteful grin consumed the president's face as she turned to share a laugh with Doka. But she nodded and agreed to humor the biker. "And what lesson, pray tell, is that?"

Diego spoke earnestly. "Werewolves, seventh sons, were spurned by their loved ones and left out to die. They were and still are considered outcasts, but you and I know it doesn't need to be this way. My sister may rub you the wrong way, but the person that you really care about, the one who you must truly learn to accept, is Melody."

Mom's head pulled back in disgust and Diego continued. "The girl is being treated as an outcast by you, and all this posturing and complaining is ignoring the root of your ire."

Mom stared at the biker with wild eyes, perhaps struggling with a truth she must have already known. The woman was not accustomed to looking inward, Diego thought, and after her actions over the past two years, it would have been difficult to like what she saw. People usually didn't react wisely when their perceptions of themselves became disjointed.

"A killer with a conscience," said Mom dryly, as if to write him off. She waved her pistol at his sister. "A slut with ambition. And," she said, giving Maxim a look of hatred, "a fool with a cause. All of you have proven to be dangerous."

Maxim grunted in frustration. "You blame everybody but yourself!" Deborah raised her gun at the sudden outburst. "You turned Lola against me. I had my part, but you cultivated our split. You convinced Lola to turn. She had no dreams of becoming a wolf without you. She didn't even know who Nithya was; you were the one who Lola trusted. Silencing the people who remind you of your problems doesn't do anything to actually fix them."

Aside from wood crackling in the fire, the train square was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Deborah stood defiant yet wounded, with watery eyes. Nithya was much worse, already broken. She stood in the sun yet her mind was in shadow, and she couldn't bear to look at anyone. Maxim was heaving, nearer to the two of them, carelessly putting himself at risk. The Yavapai in the distance was flexing his shoulders, and Doka continued shifting from his right leg to his left. And Angelica, without a care for the hardware or resentment they faced, puffed her chest out as if her confidence were weapon enough.

All was serene for that moment until Diego heard Doka's rifle cock above his head. The biker didn't know if he was checking his weapon or if he had reloaded it, but Diego took a step closer to the base of the platform to break the foul man's line of sight.

Mom gathered her thoughts enough to speak. "I intend to live, and I do apologize, but leaving you alive would lower those odds." Deborah looked to the sky even though the new moon wouldn't have been visible. "You know what time nears, assassin. Perhaps, had you remained in service, you would have been equipped with silver, but you and I both know that little gun of yours is useless now."

Diego pulled the sunglasses from his face, sighed, and threw them to the dirt. Then he brought the weapon up a measure and made a show of examining it.

"It's not my gun," he said plainly.

Deborah cocked her head slightly. She jerked it to the side and looked at Nithya's bag, which was on the ground beside her. With a quickness Diego hadn't seen from her before, Mom spun around. "That's a CDC weapon!" she yelled to the others. She sprung away from Diego, running past the burning barrel, away from the two men. "They've got silver bullets! Kill them!"

 

Everything happened at once.

As Deborah ran deeper into the courtyard, she pointed her pistol backwards and fired at the group. She was more concerned with not getting shot than hitting anything, however.

Maxim, whether trying to suppress her or put her down, immediately raised his gun and fired a burst at her. She grunted as a round penetrated her shoulder. The panicked woman stopped shooting and pressed to the edge of the opposite train car to exit the shootout. She was, however, the least of their concerns.

The Yavapai behind the right rail car waited for Mom to clear his line of fire before sending a barrage of automatic rounds Maxim's way. The detective ran back and jumped onto the steps and into the half-open door of the train car they were standing next to. A quick succession of bullets panged against the thick steel of the wall, sending them ricocheting into the dirt and sky.

Nithya Rao immediately dropped to the floor. She feebly covered her head for protection, scrambling to pick up her duffel bag and case of medicine.

Diego's main concern was defense, not attack. He needed to get his sister out of the middle of this war zone. He thrust his arm straight up into the air and fired some silver shots at the looming figure of Doka as he pressed his body against the train car the Native American was standing on. Diego held his free hand toward Angelica, trying to pull her behind cover. She looked at him, her eyes shaking, for the first time understanding their predicament, and extended her arm to his.

As she stood there in the sun, her frantic motion was reduced to a single moment where she appeared stationary. Her pose was mired in beauty and desperation as she reached out to her brother. The beam of light that fell across her face was cut out as a figure blocked the rays of the sun. Then the shots rang out.

A quick series of bullets from above cut through Angelica's side, running up her thigh to her ribs. She hopped a step towards Diego before her body shut down, and she crumpled to the ground.

"No!" yelled Diego, trying to jump up the side of the car and angling his pistol over the edge. He fired a few harried shots that almost certainly missed their mark. Flush with the surface of the steel, he could neither see Doka, nor was he exposed to his fire. Diego stared at his sister as she struggled to lift her head from the grass. She wouldn't make it long and he needed to kill Doka before he could attend to her. He needed to draw the man away.

"Hold on," Diego whispered.

The biker heard some loud steps on top of the car and looked up. Doka peeked over the edge. They both shot at the other, but Diego jumped away and retreated out of the square, taking cover behind the green train car that Maxim was inside. That wouldn't be far enough.

He heard a solid crash as Doka jumped from one rail car to the other. An empty clip dropped on the floor next to him as the man above reloaded. Diego ran as fast as he could away from the courtyard.