by Rachel Caine
“I’m okay,” she said. “And we’re going to be all right. Didn’t you say we were, before I came out here?”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “But I was kinda lying.”
“I know, stupid.”
Myrnin cleared his throat. “The draug may be gone, but they can return at any time.” He cast an uneasy glance up at the clouds. “We need transportation. I can perhaps fix the car, but—”
“Won’t have to,” Michael said, and nodded toward the corner of the high school, where another car was slowly pulling around the corner. It was a police cruiser, sleek and dangerous, and there were two figures in it. One had a shotgun barrel pointed out the open window. Claire was surprised to realize that it was Richard Morrell.
Hannah Moses was driving.
She stopped the car and stepped out, frowning at them. “What the hell are you fools doing out here?” she asked.
“What brought you?” Shane asked.
Richard answered that one. “All vampire sedans are equipped with GPS and an automatic signal when there’s engine trouble,” he said. “We got an alert over her radio that one was out of service here. There wasn’t any reason for it to be here, so Hannah wanted to check it out.” He stepped out of the car, and seemed to lose his balance for a moment. Hannah gave him a sharp, concerned look, and he caught himself with a hand on the cruiser’s roof. “Damn. Low blood sugar.”
“And no sleep,” Hannah said. “And pushing yourself too hard. Richard—”
“I’m okay, Hannah.” Not, Claire noticed, Chief, or Chief Moses, which confirmed her intuition that there was more going on between the two of them than just professional courtesy. He even threw her a smile, and it was a sweet one. Hannah didn’t smile back. She continued to look concerned. “Everything okay, folks?”
“The car’s trashed,” Michael said, “but then again, I think it was worth it. We found a way to kill the draug.” He said it casually, but the gleam in his eyes gave it away.
Both Richard and Hannah looked at him with identical expressions of What did you just say? “Well,” Hannah said, “I know we can hurt them with silver, but—”
“Not silver,” Myrnin said. “Silver only wounds them, and it can’t kill Magnus, though it can certainly make him very unhappy. No indeed. The boy’s right. We can kill them.” He dashed off, and came back with his hands full of the blackened mass—well, not his hands, because even Myrnin wasn’t nuts enough to actually pick up the draug with his bare skin. It was actually dumped into Claire’s abandoned cowboy hat. He shook it, and it jiggled like gelatin.
Lifelessly. Bits of it flaked away.
“What the …?” Hannah bent forward over the hat, then reeled back, hand to her nose. “Oh, man. That smells like a weeklong floater.”
Claire looked at Shane. “What’s a floater?”
“Dead body,” he said. “You don’t want to know, trust me.” His gaze lingered on her, as if he was still in doubt that she was okay.
Or there.
She stripped off the nitrile gloves and gripped his hand tight and fast. He sent her a fast, unsteady smile.
“What is it?” Richard asked. He was staying well back from what was in the hat, but he took a pen from his pocket and poked it into the mass. No reaction. “I mean, what caused this?”
“Chemicals. Janitorial chemicals, to be precise. Young Shane here thought of it.” That was generous of Myrnin to say so, Claire thought; Shane seemed surprised, too. “It’s led me to think of a few other things that might work as well, but this is surprisingly effective.”
Shane’s pride, however cautious and concealed, was catching; Claire caught the gleam of it in Hannah’s face, and Richard’s, too. No, not pride. Hope. A rare commodity in Morganville.
“There’s a full barrel of it in the trunk of the sedan,” Myrnin said. “We’ll need to get it in yours, quickly.” As if to emphasize that, the clouds overhead gave another ominous rumble; he flinched, moved vampire-speed to the black sedan, and popped the trunk open by breaking the lock with a sharp pull of his fingers. He and Michael wrestled the barrel out, but allowed Shane and Hannah to help him roll it over to the police car.
Richard stayed with Claire. He glanced at her, raised his eyebrows, and said, “What’s with the biohazard suit?”
Oh. She’d forgotten about it, actually. “The sprinklers were on,” she said. “The draug were waiting out here for us. I had to have some kind of protection.”
“Good thinking.” Richard wasn’t really listening to her, though; he was watching Hannah as she helped Myrnin and Michael muscle the drum into the trunk of the police car. It didn’t fit quite as well as it had in the vampmobile. There was something kind of sad about the way he was looking at Hannah … as if he wanted something he knew he could never really have. Though he did have her, didn’t he? Maybe?
People were complicated. Claire couldn’t figure out what was in her own head most of the time, much less her friends’. Or Shane’s. And she hardly even knew Monica’s brother.
“So,” she said, “you and Chief Moses—”
“What?” he asked, and suddenly his gaze was focused on her, laser-sharp. “Me and Chief Moses what?”
“Uh …” Are dating, she was going to say, but she was afraid suddenly that she’d misread all of that. Awkward. “… Make a good team, I guess.” Lame. “She’s pretty fantastic.”
“She is that,” he said. Crisis over. He let his attention wander back to focus on Hannah; Claire wondered if he even knew he was doing it. “Did she ever tell you how she got that scar?”
“No.” The dark, seamed scar across Hannah’s face was dramatic, but somehow it only made her look … regal. Scarily more beautiful, as if it were a really exotic tattoo.
“She pulled three people out of a burning truck in Afghanistan, under heavy enemy fire,” he said. “She was going back for the fourth when the munitions exploded. She got hit by shrapnel. She was a hero. Got decorated for it and everything. And then she came back here.” He shook his head. “Why the hell would she come back here?”
Good question. Claire wasn’t sure she had any rational answer, either, but she tried. “It’s her home. Maybe there was somebody here she wanted to come back for, too. Is that … you know, possible?”
That startled him, and he was thinking how to answer that when Hannah finally thumped the trunk closed and said, “Right. We’re going to get cozy in here. Claire, in the back with Myrnin and Shane. Probably in the middle, knowing how they get along. Richard, Michael, up front with me.”
Conversation over. Claire scrambled into the back and was breathlessly jammed between Shane’s solid, warm heat, and Myrnin’s oddly cool, angular body. Manwich, she could almost hear Eve say, only Eve would never actually count Myrnin as a man, exactly.
“Get us back to Founder’s Square,” Myrnin ordered. “I have quite a bit of work to do, you know. Quite a bit. This is a very promising beginning, but there is much left to discover. We will need better delivery systems, the ability to distribute the chemicals widely, and—”
“Yeah, we get it,” Hannah interrupted. “Faster is better. No problem, we’re going right now, just keep your fangs folded.”
“That’s very rude,” Myrnin said. “I haven’t brought my fangs out for some time. Not in mixed company, anyway.”
Hannah gave him a long look in the rearview mirror, then put the car into reverse and began an expert, smooth job of backing up. Once in the parking lot, she did a wide circle and made for the exit. The boxy shape of the high school, with its faded cartoon snake mascot sign, quickly receded in the distance, and Claire breathed deeply in relief.
Almost there, she thought. We’re almost to the end of this.
And then the rain fell. Softly at first, a few fat, pattering drops on the windshield … then more of them, a bucket being emptied, then a roaring flood. It came shockingly fast. It wasn’t like rain at all, really, more like water with a few bubbles of air trapped inside. As if they’d suddenly been pl
unged into the deep, dark sea.
“Faster,” Shane shouted across to Hannah. A flash of lightning from the dark clouds above turned his face into blue-white stone, except for the panic Claire saw in his eyes. “C’mon, drive, lady! We’re going to get caught out here!”
She tried, she really did, but the water was rising so fast in the streets that driving faster built up a wave—first in front of the tires, and then at the bumper of the car. It took only a few short minutes for the narrow roads to flood up to the curbs. The drainage wasn’t working—no, Claire realized, it was working, just in reverse. Muddy, tainted water was flowing up out of the drains, adding to the rain that was falling.
The draug were trying to drown them fast and hard.
Hannah had to slow the car as it approached the next intersection. There was a dip in the pavement there, a deep one, and there was no telling what would happen if she drove into it. No, there was—Claire remembered what had happened to Eve’s hearse, with its burned-out motor.
The draug could disable the car.
“Turning around!” Hannah shouted, and executed a fast, sliding turn that pushed Claire hard against Myrnin. She grabbed for the back of the seat and wished she’d had time to hunt for a seat belt, but there was no room between them to fasten one now. “Going for a side road. Richard, keep your eyes open. You see anything coming, shoot it.”
She drove at a probably-too-fast speed down the side road, as closed and lightless buildings flashed past; gutters gushed water in thick, silvery streams, from what Claire could make out. The rain was coming down at a breathless pace, and it sounded like a hail of dropped ball bearings on the roof of the cruiser. They’re supposed to be getting weaker, not stronger. Or is this their desperation effort, since they know we can hurt them?
Something hit that was harder than just a raindrop, with a sharp crack, and Claire twisted around to look behind them. There was a draug crouched on the trunk lid, leering in at them, its face smearing and running in the rain. It had a thick chunk of brick in its hand, and slammed it against the back window a second time.
Claire saw the spiderweb fracture form in the safety glass.
“Brake!” she yelled. Hannah didn’t hesitate; she hit them hard, sending the front end of the car diving down and the heavily loaded back up, and the draug lost its balance. It rolled forward over the roof, over the front windshield, onto the hood, and suddenly turned liquid and re-formed facing back toward them, snarling.
Hannah hit reverse. It tumbled off into the roiling water in the road with a splash, sank, and was gone. She quickly put the car into drive again, but the next intersection was as bad as the one they’d tried to avoid. There was no telling how deep the water was, but from the current down the middle that Claire could see rippling, it was dangerous.
So was staying in one place. There were more of the draug, and they’d be here soon.
“Got to chance it,” Hannah muttered. “It’ll be no better on the other streets. This dip runs right through town.” It had been part of the original urban planning, Claire thought; they never got much rain. It was supposed to be clever.
Not so much, now.
She grabbed for Shane’s hand and held it tight as Hannah eased the cruiser into the intersection. The front tires rolled downward. The muddy, fast-moving water rippled around the bumper as it submerged. Then it rose along the sides of the car.
“It’s too deep,” Shane said.
“It’s too late. We’re committed,” Hannah said. She kept the accelerator pressed down, neither accelerating nor braking, and the brown water splashed up onto the hood.
Over it.
It was leaking into the door next to Shane. Just a little, but enough to freak Claire out. It can’t be this deep, she thought. It can’t drown us. But it didn’t have to. All it needed to do was drown out the engine. Improbably enough, it hadn’t yet. The cruiser was still running, still rolling relentlessly forward through the draug-infested water. Maybe cop cars were built tougher than hearses and vampmobiles.
They hit the bottom of the dip with a little jolt that sent waves of ripples out, and the water sloshed up on the windshield, leaving a thin, silver, unclean film behind it … and then Claire felt a strong rush of water against Shane’s side of the car, and the car began to slip sideways.
“No, no, no,” Hannah chanted under her breath. She pushed the gas, just a little, and the tires caught pavement and began to climb up. The water seemed to hold it back, not just in terms of mass but really holding on, clinging. Claire’s breath felt hot and ragged in her chest, and she felt utterly terrified and helpless.
Nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do, except Hannah, and if she made one wrong move, the car would go spinning into the current, carried away.
But she kept hold of it, nudging the gas in careful increments and pushing the cruiser up. The water level fell. The hood broke the surface, and then the bumper, and then they were up and through and moving fast.
Behind them, the current kept roaring, getting stronger. No other cars were going to make it through there. Not right now, anyway.
Richard reached over, took Hannah’s free hand in his, and raised it to his lips. “That,” he said, “was world-class calm.”
“That was luck,” she corrected, but flashed him a brilliant and very personal smile, just the same. “And I was freaking the hell out inside.”
“Cold as ice, that’s my girl.”
“Shut up,” she said, but she sounded pleased. And then she remembered they weren’t alone in the car, and cleared her throat.
Myrnin said, in a weary tone, “I could sincerely not care less who in this town is carrying on secret affairs just now, so please, declare your impassioned desires or be quiet. All of you.”
It was a very quiet drive.
Six blocks later, it all changed. They were within sight of Founder’s Square’s lights, even though they were difficult to see through the smear of pouring rain; the constant hammering of drops on the roof had made Claire wonder if she was going deaf. But there was just barely enough visibility to see the open-bed pickup truck that charged through the intersection, heading at right angles to Founder’s Square. It missed hitting the front bumper of the police cruiser by a couple of feet, maybe, and skidded out of control on the wet pavement, going way too fast.
And then it hit the curb, and flipped over twice, shedding metal and glass and making a shrieking noise that was clear even over the roar of the rain.
Hannah didn’t hesitate. She turned the patrol car toward the wreck, pulled as close as she could, and yelled, “Stay inside, all of you!” Then she grabbed a yellow rain slicker with a hood, put it on, and plunged out into the storm.
Richard found another raincoat and joined her.
Claire and Shane and Myrnin were locked into the back, like criminals, and Michael sensibly decided to stay where he was, since there wasn’t another rain slicker available. Shane tried his door handle, but not in a way that meant he was seriously trying to jump out.
Myrnin didn’t bother. He sat in cold silence for a while, and then said, “This is taking too long. We can’t afford the distraction.”
“People are hurt,” Claire said. “It’s Hannah’s job to help them.”
“It’s foolish,” he said flatly. “More will die every second we delay. If we allow the draug to play this game, we’ll lose. Horribly. Get her back inside.”
“Great idea!” Shane muttered. “Why don’t you go take a dip in the pool, man?”
“I am not your man,” Myrnin hissed back. “What pool are you talking about?”
“Hey!” Claire held out both palms, symbolically shoving them apart. “Enclosed space. Let’s all get along.”
“It’s taking too long,” Myrnin said.
And he was right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HANNAH
I told them not to get out of the car. I was reasonably certain that the three in the backseat would obey; Shane, strong as he was
, didn’t have the leverage or the insanity to break out, and Claire, regardless of any intentions, didn’t stand any chance. Myrnin wouldn’t want to. I could see it in his face.
But Michael … Michael worried me. I could only hope that he wouldn’t play the hero.
I knew Richard probably would.
I kept my attention focused on them, at least part of the time, as I raced across to the wrecked truck.
There were men down, four or five of them. Two were dead. I could tell that at a glance; they’d been thrown clear of the rolling truck, and the damage was done. I left them and went for the others who were still moving, however weakly.
One had a badly broken arm, and a gushing scalp wound, but he was awake and more or less focused. He reached up and caught a fistful of my yellow raincoat. “Get them out of here,” he said. “Goddamn water vampires were on us. Couldn’t get anywhere safe. Get my men out of here.”
I blinked. It was the human resistance leader of Morganville, Captain Obvious. He’d taken over the role of vampire-hating rebel leader when the last Captain Obvious had been killed, and he was good at it because he’d served his country sometime, somewhere, in some branch. Not a Marine, I thought; a Marine would have been a better driver, and a Marine wouldn’t be lying there with a busted arm and expecting someone else to save his men.
“Wait one,” I said, and left him to move to the next man. Broken legs, two of them. His face was in the water, and I propped him up against the wreckage to make sure he continued to breathe. He was coughing and starting to scream as I moved on.
Richard and I got to the third one at the same time. I wasn’t surprised to see him, but I was annoyed. “I told you to stay in the—”
“And I don’t listen,” he interrupted me. “Technically, I’m your boss, and don’t give me chain-of-command crap right now. This man has serious injuries.”
“They all do,” I said. “And there’s no room for them in the car. Take the cruiser and go. Send back adequate transportation.”
