“What are those?”
He looked down. She wasn’t pointing at the guns after all but rather the snap vials. Jack tugged one loose and held it up. “It’s a chemical-vapor delivery device,” he said. “When activated, you breathe it in, and it short-circuits their illusion.”
“How does it work?”
“It sends the prefrontal cortical area of the brain into hyperactivity and temporarily stops the flow of blood to the posterior cerebral artery, shutting off the gray matter responsible for dreams. That’s how they get to us. Through dreams.”
Beth shifted closer, staring at the vial, rapt. “And it lets you see them . . . as they are?”
“In fits and starts,” Jack answered, quickly tucking the vial away. “More than you’d like. Trust me. It’s like the mirror was for you but more reliable, more complete.”
Beth held a hand out halfway. “Can I have one? Just in case?”
Jack hesitated. “Not yet,” he said finally, not ready to share fully the consequences of what breathing that vapor would do to Beth, what it had been doing to him, in body and mind. “You won’t need it.” He covered quickly. “Once we’re inside the building, you’re just going to keep an eye out. Watch from the windows for police or anything suspicious. Make sure that no one notices me trying to get into the club.”
“And if they do?”
“Come up with a distraction. Do what it takes.”
“And if one of those things . . .” she asked, vainly trying to adjust her jumpsuit to some approximation of comfortable. “If one of those things comes into the apartment building?”
“Then we’re already dead.” He sighed. “I’m hoping I can get in clean, surgical, and just wipe them out before they know what hit them.”
“How many do you think are in there?”
“Judging by the frequency of the attacks, I’d say a dozen, maybe more.” He watched as her eyes went wide. He didn’t like the prospect of facing that many, either, but could think of no other solution.
“So what? I just wait until you come back out?”
“If I come back out,” Jack corrected. He’d vowed long ago never to count on another minute above ground other than those he won for himself.
“And if you don’t?”
“Get out. Get out of the building. Get out of town and fast. Take the van, drive as far as it will take you, and don’t look back. Don’t ever look back.”
The dog looked up at Jack, ears perked and tail wagging, almost as if he were as eager to hear his part in the plan as Beth had been. “And Blood’s coming with us,” he added, scratching him behind one tattered ear. “But he stays in the building with you. Pay attention to him. He can see them sometimes. See right through the illusion.”
“Dogs can do that?”
“Some of them, sometimes.” Blood’s ability was one in a million. “Some children, too. Provided they haven’t hit puberty yet. As far as I can tell, anyway. Not all children, mind you, just some. It’s just like the mirrors. You can’t count on it.” He rubbed his brow. “If only it were that simple. Nothing is ever simple.”
“Can I have some salt, at least?” Beth asked, pointing to one of the many sacks Jack had propped up on the counter.
“If it’ll make you feel better,” he said, taking one down and tearing it open. “Hold out your pockets.” He started pouring them full. “Salt. That’s another legend that has a kernel of truth. Back in eastern Europe, if one of these attacked, villagers would leave a line across all household thresholds. It’s one of only three ways to kill them. Fire, salt, and decapitation.”
“What about your guns?”
“We’ll get to that later.”
Beth nodded. “Any other legends that might be worth listening to?”
“Crosses, holy water, none of it does a damn thing. Like I said, they avoid the sun, but it won’t harm them. It’s more like they’re programmed to avoid it. However . . .” He reached for a bulb of garlic and rapped it hard on the counter. It split apart into cloves. He dropped a few into Beth’s breast pocket. “They don’t like garlic.”
She pointed to the three stakes stuck through his belt loops. “What about those?”
He patted them like the old friends they were. “Juniper wood impregnated with tincture of garlic. Highly antiseptic. They hate it when they get hit, and they will stop attacking long enough to dig it out, but it won’t kill them. Only three things will kill them—”
“Fire, salt, decapitation.” Beth rattled the words off quickly, enumerating them with thumb and fingers.
Jack nodded. She was learning frighteningly quickly. He flipped open the hasps on the lid of a steel backpack tank. The word POISON was stenciled on the side. He unbuckled his belt and secreted his weapons inside the hollow chamber, then replaced the lid. He grabbed the assembly by its webbed harness and hefted it onto his back.
“So, we’re exterminators, right,” she said, reaching for the second tank. “Let’s go exterminate those things.”
Jack couldn’t have put it better himself.
Thirty-four
Dawn crested over the horizon. The low-hanging sun’s forked rays poked Beth right in the eyes as they walked up to the apartment building’s wide front doors. They approached the glass-encased foyer, and she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the early-morning light. Despite the vague, off-to-the-gibbet look on her face, she had to admit the jumpsuit was sort of fetching in a geek-chic kind of way. It was downright adorable, actually, like just another costume she’d picked out for a party. Beth Becker the Sort-of Vampire Slayer.
Behind her in the glass, she could see that Jack was also eyeing her reflected image, admiring it, perhaps. “Maybe you should talk to the doorman,” he said, handing over his hinged aluminum clipboard. He tugged on Blood’s woven leash, reining in the dog as he held the door open for Beth.
A vaulted atrium, two and a half stories high, opened up over them. They entered with purpose, striding past black-granite-paneled walls and their fitted stainless ziggurat light sconces. Everything had the flinty smell of freshly scrubbed stone. The clicking of their heels on the glossy marble floor tiles echoed loudly in the vast space, drawing the attention of the doorman long before they made it to his desk. Blood padded along beside them, pausing every yard to sniff the veneer baseboards.
All three of them were met with a worn, almost confrontational look from the guard. He sat with arms crossed behind a blond oak console, occasionally glancing down at an array of security monitors. As Beth got close, she caught a heavy whiff of drugstore aftershave and noted that his navy-blue uniform was worn shiny at the elbows and desperately in need of pressing.
“Help you?”
Beth felt a lump the size of a tangerine form in her throat. She heard Jack behind her, setting down the tanks as if this was simply business as usual—which she supposed, for him, wasn’t far from the truth. “Third and fourth floors today.” She was barely able to make eye contact with the guard as she set the open clipboard down in front of him. “Sign next to the X . . . and initial here and here.” She pointed at a couple of random spots on the sheet Jack had taped down for her. Then she held out her pen.
He didn’t take it. He didn’t look at the form. He didn’t even lift one gnarled hand from his lap. “Thought you guys weren’t due in till next week,” was all he had to say.
Beth shifted her gaze to the floor. She ordered her body to remain calm and all but scolded her pulse into regularity. She looked back up to the man to see if she could read some crack in his stone visage. “Yeah, but we got some complaints of . . .” She struggled to find the right word. “Of some critters.” What else was she supposed to call them? Vampires? Sort of?
The guard pulled a worn ledger from his middle drawer. He commenced flipping through it with a liberal helping of theatrical smugness. “Critters, huh?”
“B
ig ones,” Jack added, suddenly behind her. He held his arms outstretched to show the guard just how big those “critters” were supposed to be. Beth wondered what the man might think if he knew how much Jack was understating the situation.
“Uh-huh,” the guard added with an eye roll in an indifferent, gatekeeping monotone. “Big ones.” He closed the ledger with a hard clap. “Don’t see anything about it in here.”
Jack didn’t move; neither did Blood, who stood heeled at his feet. “We just go where the work is, pal.” Jack had affected a flawless working-class New England accent that was a far cry from his usual measured baritone.
Blood shuffled over to the guard’s station, sniffed the corner of the desk, and scratched at it with one outstretched paw. The guard regarded him with the same cool disdain he’d reserved for both her and Jack. “What’s with the dog?”
“For bedbugs,” Jack answered.
The guard shivered involuntarily. “Bedbugs, huh?”
Beth spotted his nervous agitation and jumped on it. “That’s what the complaints were about. Bedbugs . . . and other bloodsuckers. Place is crawling with them.”
The guard squinted at the dog. “Thought they used beagles for that?”
“He’s part beagle,” Beth said, not really knowing if that was the case at all. “And some pitbull, too. It makes the best mix for finding them.” She leaned over the lip of the guard’s wide console. “Don’t tell anybody, though, okay? Trade secret.” From the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw Blood looking up at her with a new respect.
“Third and fourth floors, you say?” The guard’s tone was beginning to soften. Beth watched him absently scratch his jacket sleeve.
“For now,” Jack answered. “But you know how it is with those things. Situation can get out of hand pretty quick if they aren’t taken care of immediately. Whole place’ll be crawling with ’em before you know it.”
The guard pushed back in his rolling chair. He rubbed his walrus mustache. “I don’t know about this. I’m not supposed to let anybody in without authorization.”
“What are you waiting for?” Jack placed one palm on the desk and leaned in with more than a touch of menace. “Get authorization, then.”
“Facilities manager isn’t in till noon. Can you wait around till then?”
“Wait around?” Jack scoffed. “Pal, we gotta hit two more buildings by noon.”
“Can you come back?”
“Sure,” Jack said with a casual shrug. “Next week.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said, pal. I said it.” Jack picked up his pack, huffing it onto one shoulder. “No skin off my nose. We get paid we do the job or not.” He wheeled around, heading for the exit. Blood clipped across the tiles to catch up. “Come on,” he called. “We’re burning daylight.”
It took Beth a second to realize that he was addressing her. She quickly gathered up her equipment and followed, almost colliding with Jack as he halted at the door.
“One last thing,” Jack called out, his voice reverberating in the wide room. “Can I get your name? You know, ‘case we get any more complaints about them bedbugs.”
The guard held him in his rheumy gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Then he finally he let out a world-weary sigh and motioned for Beth to hand him the clipboard.
Thirty-five
They reached the top of the service staircase. Beth had pressed her hand against the steel door panel, ready to push inside, when she felt Jack’s grip on her elbow, holding her back. He lifted his index finger to his lips for silence, then pointed through the door’s wire-mesh glass window.
Halfway down the hall, Beth spied a ceiling-mounted security camera. It was slowly sweeping across the hallway. Midway through every arc, it landed on Axis’s office windows. “We’re going to have to deal with that.” Jack set his heavy steel canister pack on the ground, then clipped open the top hasps. From it, he removed his tactical belt and pistols. He patted Blood on the scruff. “Stay here. Keep watch.” Then he turned to Beth. “You, follow my lead.”
Jack waited until the camera had just started to swing in the direction opposite from them. Then he pushed through the doors. Beth shadowed him, and they quickly padded down the hall, stopping directly under the camera. They stood dead in its blind spot. “Get a glimpse of the CC rotation on the monitor in the guard’s station?”
“Me?”
Jack shook his head slightly, muttering calculations under his breath. “Twelve floors. Two cameras per floor, plus elevators, stairwells, basement, and parking garage. Probably a standard quad monitor running three seconds per click. Should hit this one every thirty seconds or so. I can live with those odds.”
He quickly pulled a small silver cylinder from his belt. It was roughly the size and shape of a tube of lip gloss. From one end protruded a set of wires. He clipped it to the underside of the camera. “Magnetic,” he offered by way of explanation. Then he tugged a multitool from his belt, quickly sheared the cable at the back of the camera, and crimped the wires from the tube onto the half that went into the wall. A small green LED winked to life on the cylinder’s underside. “Don’t hear any alarms. That’s a good sign.” Jack finished the wire splice off with a length of black electrical tape and hit a small button on the base.
“What is it?”
“It’s a second camera,” Jack answered as he let the camera complete another arc, then hit the button again. “With a built-in recorder. It’ll play an endless loop of that sweep. Should work provided that guard doesn’t look too closely at the footage.” He stepped out of the blind spot and into the hall proper. Then he went back to the door and opened it for Blood. “Safe to come back in, boy.”
“Now what?” Beth was still amazed by the swiftness with which he’d defeated the camera.
“After I go in, you keep an eye out, and pretend you’re spraying for bugs. Act natural. No reason for you not to be doing that. Just another day at work.”
“Right. Spray for bugs. Look natural. Just another day at work.”
“And pay attention,” he added, once again checking his equipment. “Take note of everything, every sound, every smell, every reflection. Store and catalogue. We can go over and sort it all out later.”
“What happens if someone comes? If someone spots you?”
“Use your imagination. Come up with a distraction.” He handed her the nub of a black grease pencil. “And mark the center window with an X. I’ll see that and know that things on this end have gone Bravo Sierra. Here . . .” Jack pulled out a flat tin jar and twisted off the cap. The eye-watering stench of garlic and capiscum raked Beth’s nose and lungs as he scooped out a thick daub of opaque white goop and quickly smeared it on both of her cheeks. “Rub that in.”
She obeyed, fighting to keep the tears from blurring her vision. Catching a glimpse of her discomfort, Jack said, “You get used to it after a bit. But those things hate it. If one gets close to you, it’ll give you a bit more time.”
“I thought you said they never came out during the daytime.”
“Don’t count on anything. I’ve never seen them attacking so frequently, so boldly. I think they’re getting hungrier.” He turned to the window, his nimble fingers running along the sill to check for alarm wires. “Pay attention to Blood. He’s your lifeline out here.”
Beth nodded. Pay attention for what? she wondered. She’d never owned a dog. The only pet she’d ever had was a goldfish she’d won at a carnival when she was ten. It had lasted about a week. “If one does come? Then what?”
Jack paused, fixing her with his gaze. “Whatever you do, do not look them directly in the eyes. That’s rule number one. They get you to do that, and it’s game over. You’ve got salt, throw that. Throw that and run.” He lifted the window. A bracing gust hit Beth across the face and chest as he stepped halfway out to the fire escape.
&nb
sp; He paused and took her gently by the wrist. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her, but to Beth it felt—if only for an instant—as if she finally had something to lean on. Someone to lean on. But it was only for a moment, and it passed just as quickly as it came.
“You’ll do fine,” Jack said, letting go of her wrist. “Trust me.”
“I trust you.” She gripped him by the arm. Then, almost as an afterthought, she bent forward and quickly kissed his cheek. His skin was rough and warm against hers. She felt the muscles of his arm stiffen and contract at her touch. “For luck,” she said quickly, hoping her simple gesture hadn’t thrown him off his game.
Jack said nothing. He turned his gaze from her and hopped down to the fire escape. In another instant, he was climbing to the top bar of the safety rail. Then he kicked off, clearing the distance to Axis with barely a sound or shudder of ironwork as he landed on the other side.
Panic gripped Beth’s chest like an industrial press. She pushed aside her anxiety. Jack had more to worry about right now than what a casual good luck peck from her might mean. She still wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to do it. But he seemed to need it, to need some small dose of human contact, even if it was nothing more than a simple brush of chapped lips against stubbled cheek.
She’d spent more than enough time on the business side of the bar listening to people in extremes of isolation, but never had she seen anything like what she saw in Jack. It was beyond mere loneliness, beyond simple loss or pain. It was a conscious paring away of his own humanity. Something approaching purity of purpose—a very dangerous purity.
Beth watched through the glass as Jack jimmied open the heavy steel safety grate that barred Axis’s window. His eyes always seemed to be in six places at once, covering every spot that might hide a threat. He entered the darkened room, and she followed his progress as long as she could before he slipped out of view.
She wondered what it might be like to live like that. To live so in the now that little, if anything, existed beyond the hunt. It was subtly seductive in its simplicity, and she felt herself drifting toward his patterns, his rhythms, like water flowing into a hollow. This would come at a heavy cost, but she could reckon that later. Right now, there was work to be done.
As the Worm Turns Page 14
