Black Dawn tmv-12

by Rachel Caine

  “The water treatment plant,” Claire interrupted. “They haven’t had time to move him anywhere, and they can’t, because Myrnin closed off the pipes. They can’t leave there, not easily.”

  “I’d never say can’t when it comes to these bastards. They supposedly couldn’t get here at all, but here they are.” Hannah made a decision of some kind, and holstered her weapon, though she kept her eyes on Claire. “What’s your plan?”

  “Go get him.”

  “Honey, that is not a plan. That’s what we in the military call an objective.” Hannah said it compassionately but firmly. “You don’t know he’s even still alive.”

  “Actually,” said a voice from the shadows by the stairs, “we do.” Michael emerged, along with Eve.

  He had Myrnin by the throat, and Myrnin was not looking good. In fact, he was looking like he’d gone ten rounds with Michael and lost.

  He looked … beaten.

  Michael shook him, his face tense and hard. “Tell them what you told me.”

  Myrnin made a choking sound. Michael let go, and the other vampire fell to his knees, coughing. “I meant no harm,” he whispered. “I was trying to save you. All of you.”

  “Just tell her.”

  Myrnin’s head was bowed, his dark hair hiding his expression. “He may yet be alive.”

  Hope wasn’t a peaceful thing; it was painful, a jagged white-hot explosion that ripped through her and forced her heart into overdrive. Claire heard herself say, over that heavy hammering, “You lied.”

  “No. No, it’s true, he’s gone, Claire. When the draug take humans, without exception, they die. It’s just—vampires last for a long time, humans for a much shorter one, and humans seem to … dream. They don’t suffer as vampires do. It’s easy for them. They slip into … visions.” He looked up then, and she honestly couldn’t figure out what was in his face, his eyes, because her own were shimmering with tears. “It’s kinder to leave him in them. He’s dying, Claire. Or dead. But either way—”

  “He’s alive right now,” she said flatly.

  “Yeah,” Michael said. It sounded like a growl, and his eyes glowed dull red in the shadows. “He lied to us. And we’re going to get Shane. Right now.”

  Myrnin looked down again. He didn’t even try to speak this time. He just … shook his head.

  Claire couldn’t begin to think of how much it hurt her for him to do this, so she just … didn’t. She turned to Hannah. “We’re going.”

  “You still don’t have a plan.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Michael said. “They came after us because we were attacking weak points in the system. Attacking them directly. We’re not doing that this time. We’re just going in after him, and they don’t really care about humans; they care about vampires. They hunt us.” He let that fall into silence before he said, “They’ll care about me. I’ll make them care. I’ll go a different way and lead them off. That lets everybody else get to Shane.”

  This plan was clearly news to Eve. “No!”

  “Eve, I can do this. Trust me.”

  “No, Michael, they already had you once, and—”

  “And I know what it’s like,” he said. “That’s why I can’t leave him there, and we don’t have time to beg for help, which Oliver isn’t going to give anyway. Claire was right about that.”

  Hannah glanced down at Myrnin. “What about him? Is he helping?”

  “He’s helped enough,” Claire said. “He stays here.” Myrnin looked up at that, but she just stared at him, hard, until he looked away. “We don’t need another vampire right now. Agreed?”

  “All right,” Hannah said. “It’s a decent rough plan, but you don’t know exactly where he’s being kept, and it’s a large building. You need more boots on the ground—humans, not vampires. I’ll go with you.”

  “Hannah,” said the mayor. He sounded tense, and his expression mirrored that. “You can’t. It’s dangerous.”

  “Danger’s what you pay me for, Richard,” she said, and smiled at him. There was something a whole lot warmer in that smile, Claire thought, than just a mayor/police chief sort of friendship, and the look in Richard’s eyes confirmed it. “You go on, take care of your sister. I’ll be fine.”

  He closed his eyes for a second. “No,” he said. “If you go, I go, too. I’m coming. Monica, just get inside and stay there.”

  “No way. I’m not letting you run off to get killed somewhere without me, jackass.”

  “Shut up,” Eve said flatly. “We have zero time for you and your bullshit dramatics.”

  “Or what, you’ll bleed on me, Emo Princess of Freakdomonia?”

  Claire stepped forward and got Monica’s attention. She didn’t know how she looked, but Monica seemed to shift a little, as if she was considering taking a step back. “Fine. You come with us.” At the very least, Monica was a rabbit to throw to the wolves, and she wouldn’t hesitate to do it if it was the difference between life and death for Shane. “If you get in my way, I’ll kill you.” It was glaringly simple to her right now, and she meant it, every bit of it. Monica had never earned herself anything else, and despite all the breaks Claire had been willing to give, and how kind she was deep down, right now all that was gone. Just … gone.

  And what was left was something Monica fully understood, all right, because she took a breath and tossed her hair back and nodded. “I’m not getting in your way,” she said. “I’ll help. I owe Shane for something. Besides, who do you know who’s more ruthless than me? Them?” She tilted her head at Michael and Eve, and Claire had to admit she had a point. “It’s just once, and then it’s all square. I’m not your friend. I’m never going to be your friend. But Shane doesn’t deserve to die like that. If he dies, I get to kill him.”

  She was perfectly earnest about that, and Claire didn’t have time to untangle the crazy, anyway. She just said, “Fine. Let’s go,” and headed for the armored truck. Michael was already unlocking it. “But you ride in the back, Monica.”

  Michael drove, because he was once again the only one with vampire vision; Eve and Claire shared the rest of the front seat, not very comfortably because of the shotguns he’d given them, and Monica, Richard, and Hannah were in the back.

  Eve was watching Monica through the narrow window. “If she puts a foot wrong, I am seriously considering playing Shank the Skank,” she said.

  “What happened?” Claire asked. “You and Michael—you were convinced he was dead. I saw you. But then …”

  “Then Michael overheard Myrnin fessing up to Lord High Inquisitor Oliver, and Oliver mentioned how Shane just might be alive. Which Myrnin already knew.” Eve bared her teeth in a thing that was so not a grin. “Michael decided to have a chat with him. We went to the garage because we figured you’d end up there.” The not-grin faded. “I’m all for having more hands with guns on this, but you sure we can trust Richard Morrell and Hannah Moses? Not to mention Monica?”

  Claire shrugged, not really caring right now. “I think that once they’re in it, it’s pretty hard for them to back out,” she said. “I’m not leaving without him, Eve. I can’t. Not again. I don’t care what happens, but I’m not letting him die like that.”

  Grief and terror threatened to spill out of the tightly locked container inside her, and Eve grabbed her hand and held on to it, hard. “I know,” she said. “Trust me, I know.” She did. Michael had been taken by the draug, anchored underwater. Fed on.

  She knew.

  Claire swam up out of her misery long enough to ask, “What about, you know, the two of you? Better?”

  Eve cut a glance toward Michael, who was driving and pretending hard not to be hearing any of this. His acting needed work. “Sure,” Eve said, but that wasn’t so convincing, either. “We’re good to go.”

  “I’m not asking if you’re good to be working together. I mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” Eve interrupted. “Let’s just … talk about it later.”

  Michael could not, Claire thought, have
looked more tense, or more sad.

  Richard and Hannah were having a fierce, whispered conversation in the corner of the truck as they braced themselves against the metal walls, and gripped the panic straps overhead. Monica had apparently decided that she had every right to sit on Amelie’s plush throne, which wasn’t at all a surprise. Claire really hoped that Amelie found out about it later.

  That would be fun.

  The drive back across town didn’t take long, especially at the speed Michael was driving. Night had fallen hard because the clouds were still hanging heavy over the town, though the rain had stopped. The air still had that moist, unpleasant feel to it, and Claire felt as if she had mold growing on her skin in a sticky, invisible net.

  The clock in her head was ticking, and it had been too long, way too long, for Shane already. She closed her eyes and concentrated on him, on somehow reaching him, giving him strength. Stay with me. Please, stay with me. He’d begged her for the same thing, not so long ago, when things had looked darkest. He’d had faith that she’d survived beyond any reasonable evidence to the contrary, and she couldn’t do any less for him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t face the darkness without him by her side.

  If she’d ever had any doubts that she loved him, really loved him, she knew now. It was easy to love somebody when love was happy, but when it was hard, when it meant facing things you feared … that was different. He’d done it for her, many times. And now she had to do it for him.

  She opened her eyes, feeling calm and centered and focused, as Michael brought the truck to a halt. “Same drill,” he said. “I get out and open the back. Claire, you keep the keys.” He didn’t say, in case I don’t make it back, but that was what he meant. Eve let out a wordless little sound of despair; just for a moment, their gazes locked.

  “I still love you,” he said. “I mean it. All of it.”

  She didn’t answer, not verbally, but she nodded.

  And then he was a blur as he bailed out of the truck.

  Tears rolled down Eve’s cheeks, and she whispered, “God, I love you, too.”

  Maybe he heard it. Claire hoped so.

  Claire climbed out, helped Eve, and by the time she’d made it around to the back, Hannah, Richard, and Monica were out. And Michael was gone. Claire locked the truck again with the remote and stuck the keys in her pants pocket.

  Hannah clicked on a heavy flashlight. Eve had one, too. “Richard, I’m with you and Monica. Claire, the cell network should still be working for high-priority users. Call if you find Shane. I’ll do the same. Either way, we’re back here in fifteen minutes.”

  I’m not leaving without him, Claire thought, but she didn’t say it. She just nodded and checked her phone. She had a signal. “Good,” she said. “They’d have him in water, right?”

  “Through the center entrance, staircase down. Then we split off, right and left. Check every pool and tank,” Hannah said. “Girls, you watch your backs in there.”

  “Ay-firmative,” Eve said, and tried for a smile. “Sorry. An Aliens reference always makes me feel better at times like this. Except I’m not sure I’m the one who lives through the movie.”

  They moved together in a group, in through the main entrance.

  It was dark inside, and Eve’s flashlight didn’t light up too much. They took the stairs down, and Monica stumbled; Eve hissed at her, something about what dumbass wears heels at a time like this?, but Claire was focused straight ahead.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Hannah nodded. “You go right,” she whispered. “Stay quiet. Fifteen minutes, Claire. I mean it.”

  Claire nodded. She didn’t mean it at all.

  She and Eve split off to the right. Eve’s flashlight illuminated a hot circle that showed concrete, pipes, neon yellow signs and tags; there were some faint emergency lights down here, still functioning on battery, Claire guessed, so she asked Eve to switch her flashlight off. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust, but it meant better peripheral vision.

  This bottom level of the building extended out into open-air pools, but they were farther away, on the other side of a large chain-link fence. Inside, there were regimented rows of closed and open tanks. Eve climbed the ladder to the first one and used her flashlight. She shook her head and jumped down.

  The next, farther on, was a closed tank with a plastic curved lid over it and some kind of sliding port for taking samples. Claire’s turn to climb, and she slid open the port, gagged on the smell that issued forth, but she couldn’t see anything in the cloudy, foul water. If Shane was in there, he couldn’t have made it.

  She jumped down next to Eve. Eve didn’t even ask; Claire guessed she didn’t have to.

  They kept going. Five more tanks, some closed, some open. Nothing.

  The draug were nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Maybe Michael had been right. Maybe they’d ignore the humans in favor of Michael’s wild-goose chase …

  “Out there,” Eve whispered. “Look.”

  Michael. He was outside by the pools, running over catwalks, and the pools were bending, twisting, shuddering, reaching.

  The draug were after him, but he was giving them a game.

  “We have to go faster,” Claire said. “Come on.” She swarmed up the next ladder and looked in the pool.

  A dead face looked back at her, eyes pale and blind in the dim light.

  She screamed, and her scream echoed and echoed and echoed through the dark, loud as an alarm, but she didn’t care because oh God, she’d been wrong …

  “Move!” Eve shouted in her ear. She’d climbed up next to her, and had her arm around Claire’s waist. “Go on, get down! Now!”

  “He’s dead,” Claire whispered. “Oh, God, Eve—”

  Eve gulped, visibly gathered her courage, and turned her gaze on the dead face in the pool. And then she said, “That’s not Shane.”

  “But—” A bubble of hope rose up, fragile as glass. “Are you sure—”

  “I’m sure,” Eve said. “That’s not him. Come on. We have to move it. If they didn’t hear that—”

  They jumped down, landed with simultaneous thumps on the metal grating, and headed for the next tank.

  But just ahead, the darkness rippled.

  And then a white face emerged from that blackness, eyes that weren’t eyes, a mouth that moved all the wrong ways, that wasn’t human at all except when she looked at it straight on.

  Magnus. There were others with him, but she could somehow tell when it was him; the others looked like bad photocopies. They didn’t have the same … gravity.

  Magnus said, “You. The girl with clear eyes.”

  “Yeah, me. You want me,” Claire said. “Because I can tell who you are. I always could. I just didn’t know it. So give Shane back, and you can have me.”

  “Child,” he almost purred. “I can have you in any case.” Magnus’s whole face distorted into something so monstrous and evil that she screamed, couldn’t help it, and all the others copied him like reflections, because that’s all they were, shards and fragments of him.

  They were linked, and somehow that was important, vital, but she didn’t have the time to think about it.

  She fired at him.

  The shotgun kicked hard at her shoulder, and a stinging fog of gunpowder blew back over her, but she was too late; he’d read her intentions and melted back into the others, and the ones who were splattered weren’t him, weren’t the master.

  And then he was gone, sinking through the grating.

  “Time’s up,” Eve said. “We have to find Shane now.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHANE

  I was nearly gone. I could feel it now, how my body felt light and weirdly empty, how my muscles ached. My head pounded harder and faster—low blood pressure, less oxygen getting to where it counted. The water (not really water) around me was a dull crimson now, and it reminded me of terrible things, of opening a motel bathroom door and a tub and my mom’s slack white face and the color of the water
y blood around her. She’d had her clothes on, I remembered suddenly. And she hadn’t filled the tub all the way, only about halfway.

  I was thinking about it too much, because it started to become real, like those fantasies I’d already rejected. All of a sudden I was there, standing on cold tile, staring at my mother, and her papery eyelids opened, her eyes were the color of ice water as she said, “If you let go, it won’t hurt so much, sweetheart. Claire’s not coming back for you. Nobody ever comes back for you.”

  “Mom—” I whispered. It was her voice, just like I remembered … sad and quiet and disappointed. Maybe a little scared. Mom had been scared most of the time. “Mom, I’m sorry, I can’t just give up.”

  “You can’t do a lot of things, Shane,” she said. It sounded kind, that voice, but it wasn’t. “You couldn’t save me. You couldn’t save your sister. And you can’t save yourself, either. It’s too late for you. You have to let go, because that’s the only thing that will help stop the pain now. I’m your mother. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Claire’s going to come back for me.”

  “Claire’s a dream, too. She never loved you. Nobody ever really loved you, sweetie. You’re just not built that way. Why would a smart, pretty girl like that want you? You made it up, the way you made up all that other nonsense, about getting married and having a little baby and being happy. Because that will never happen either, son.”

  That sounded like my dad, not my mom. He’d always been the one telling me I was hopeless, helpless, worthless. She’d quietly tried to make me feel better, not worse. Until the end.

  But the terrible thing about what she was saying was that somewhere deep inside me, the black monster that lived there actually agreed with her. Good things didn’t happen to me, because I didn’t deserve them. All I was made for was fighting, right? For trying, and failing, to protect other people.

  “Claire died,” my mother said, and sat up in the tub. The red water swirled around her. “Claire is dead. All this is just you refusing to admit any of that. You’ve gone crazy—don’t you understand that? It’s very sad, but you can’t hold on to fantasy any longer. You know I’m telling you the truth, don’t you?”