Slade

by Sarah McCarty

  Whatever they were, she needed to get out of here, back to some normalcy so she could think. Casting a glance to the other side of the garage, the pink, rounded fender of her Volkswagen tempted her. There was nothing more normal than her little pink Bug with its bright yellow seat covers and fuzzy dice. Where it sat was the brightest spot in the garage. Almost like a sign.

  Run and don’t stop.

  She shook off Slade’s order. She’d already broken one caveat, what was one more? Especially since she didn’t know whose side Slade was on. Just because he was against the monsters didn’t make him for her. Another volley of gunfire inspired her. She didn’t even know where Slade’s car was, but she knew where hers was. What’s more—she patted her pocket—she had the keys. Escape was a matter of simply arriving at its side. Staying low, adrenaline pumping through her veins and driving her breath in rapid bursts, she rushed to her car. She reached its side without incident. So far, so good. A little of her confidence returned. Too active an imagination had always been her curse.

  Pushing the button on her key fob, she reached for the handle. The door didn’t open. She pushed it again. The lights flashed, the lock made a clicking sound, but the door wouldn’t open. It took her a moment to realize she was pushing the lock button rather than the unlock button.

  Calm, she needed calm. Shifting her thumb to the correct button, she pushed again, ignoring the shaking in her hands and the lingering sense of dread. She just needed to focus on one thing at a time. Just one thing. The door opened.

  The reassuring scent of the leather interior and the hamburger she’d had for dinner greeted her. Normal. Very normal. After sliding her laptop behind the seat, she grabbed the wheel and pulled herself up. Her back touched the seat, and the cushioned surface cradled her in familiar comfort. The air left her lungs in a long sigh. She’d made it. She reached for the door to pull it closed.

  The hiss of her name was the only warning she had. There was a sense of evil so strong that it sank deeper than the claws into her shoulder. Before she could scream, she was yanked out of the car. Fetid breath hit her face. She had the impression of red eyes boring to her soul, and then she was ripped free and thrown backward. Pain exploded from her shoulder. There was an unearthly growl overwhelmed by a deadly snarl. Two shadows collided on the far wall, twisting and turning in a grotesque dance. Loud thumps and then ... She hit the cement wall. More pain and then no more breath.

  Another hand on her arm, this one much gentler.

  “Damn it, Jane, I told you not to go to your car.”

  “Safer.” Was that her voice, so weak?

  “Not with Sanctuary waiting for you.”

  Sanctuary? She tried to open her eyes. Something sticky blocked her vision. Pain lanced outward from her shoulder. She reached out. “What happened?”

  Her hand was caught in a larger, rougher one. A tingle went down her arm, spreading outward in a sense of connection.

  “You didn’t do as you were told.”

  “Says you.”

  “Yeah.”

  A cloth wiped gently at her eyes. Connection became comfort, and along with that comfort came the urge to lean into him. Weakness. She couldn’t afford to be weak. Pushing back against the wall, Jane braced so she could stand. It hurt. So much at first that she couldn’t place the source. Clutching her stomach against the nausea, she gasped as the realization kicked in. “You implied they wouldn’t kill me.”

  “I’m positive that wasn’t their orders.”

  How did he know that? More than that, where was the thing? “Where is it?”

  “Dead.”

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes. She hated having her hair in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  Slade’s fingers grazed her temple. A barely there touch that sent heat deep into the cold knot of fear in her gut, loosening its grip.

  “Deader than a doorknob.”

  “They can die?”

  “Of course.” His hand slid under her arm and steered her around something. “Just not easily.”

  Her vision blurred and her head pounded. Did she have a concussion? Should she be moving? “I can’t see.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  The hell she didn’t. “I need to rest.”

  “We don’t have time. Sanctuary travel in packs.”

  “Like wolves?”

  “Something like that.”

  Green lights flashed with sickening flickers in the periphery of her vision as he dragged her along. Packs were good. She used one for her laptop rather than a briefcase. Oh damn. My laptop. Planting her feet she turned back. “My laptop!”

  He popped her forward. “We don’t have time to get it.”

  She planted her feet again, shaking her head to clear it, wincing as pain stabbed deep. The room spun again as he raced her forward, rushing her along so fast it felt as if her feet didn’t touch the floor. Clawing at his grip she snapped, “It has information in it.”

  He cursed and spun them around. She went flying outward like the lash at the end of a whip. He hauled her back in, anchoring her to his side with a grip that felt like a vise. She gasped.

  “Sorry.” With a glance down he loosened his grip. “Where is it?”

  “In the backseat of the car.”

  “Figures.” He said that is if she were a never-ending inconvenience. If her head didn’t hurt so much and her stomach wasn’t rolling so hard, she’d snap at him for the attitude. After all, she hadn’t asked him to come along and ruin her night. She hadn’t asked for the monsters to raid her lab. She hadn’t asked her company to turn on her. She hadn’t asked her mother to look the other way all those years ago when her stepfather had knocked on her door. And the very last thing she’d ask for right now was the burn of tears behind her lids. But that wasn’t stopping it from happening.

  Slade propped her against the wall. Her knees trembled. “Don’t move.”

  She missed the warmth of his body immediately. More so, the illusion of safety he provided. She locked her knees. “Don’t dawdle then.”

  She was proud of the quip if for no other reason than for the mockery it made of the tears. She wasn’t a helpless little girl. She was a woman, more than capable of handling whatever life threw at her. Even if it was spooky, ugly, monster men. Oh God, the monsters. They were still around, still a threat. She straightened, searching for a weapon. Unless she popped the underwire from her bra, she was defenseless.

  In the blink of an eye, Slade was back at her side, her pack slung over his shoulder, adding shock to her spook. She jerked away from his hand. “What do you do? Fly?”

  “Something like that.”

  Something like that. She took a breath, her heart lodging in her throat. He’d said that about the monsters, too. There were questions a woman who played it safe should never ask her savior. Not when there was danger all around and she didn’t know who to trust, but there were times when sensibility failed her. This was apparently going to be one of those times. Looking Slade in his beautiful-yet-strange eyes, remembering his speed, his strength, feeling as if invisible doors she never wanted opened were cracking, she asked, “What are you?”

  Without even a blink, he answered, “I’m a vampire.”

  SLADE had to be joking. Or insane. Now there was a comforting thought to have as she was dragged through the garage alongside Slade. A vampire. Oh God. Her head still spun, her vision was still blurred. Maybe she’d imagined the whole conversation. Slade came to an abrupt halt. Nausea roiled as her head snapped forward and then back into the solid muscle of his shoulder. She closed her eyes. More pain. More stars shooting across the black screen of her lids.

  “You still with me?”

  She’d puke if she nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  Good grief, how could he chuckle at a time like this?

  “Can you stand on your own?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d believe that more if you opened your eyes.”

  So would she. Cracking he
r lids, she saw they were at the far side of the garage, standing in front of an empty space.

  “Happy?”

  “Not really. You look a little shell-shocked.”

  “Must be all the excitement.”

  Another smile. Her heart, which should have been too exhausted from all the jolts she’d given it this evening to respond, skipped a beat. Damn, why couldn’t he have more of a bookish look about him?

  “Must be.”

  He let go of her elbow. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been leaning on him until he took his hand away. She stumbled.

  “Hell.” His reflexes were all that kept her from pitching to the floor.

  “I think I have a concussion.” It was a remarkably coherent statement, considering the circumstances, and she was proud of it.

  “Great.”

  “You’re the one who tossed me like a rag doll.”

  “I figured it beat being disemboweled.”

  The image that conjured did nothing to soothe her nausea. “Oh God.”

  She clutched her stomach.

  His grip on her arm tightened. “We don’t have time for you to puke.”

  Did he think it was something she could control? “Then don’t paint disgusting images.”

  “Fair enough.” Taking her hand, he placed it against cool concrete. Leaving his hand covering hers, he slid his other under her hair, against the nape of her neck. It was surprisingly cool. Soothing. “You need to stand up straight.”

  “Okay.”

  A slight tingle spread out from beneath his hand. The pain diminished and the nausea lessened. His palm felt so good against her skin that she just wanted to lean into it and linger in the comfort and strength he offered. Alarm bells went off again. Weak. This was weak, and she could never afford to be weak. Pushing back, she stood. His hand fell away. Licking her lips, keeping her eyes closed against the continued need to vomit, she asked, “Am I upright?”

  His fingertips grazed her shoulder blades. “Close enough.”

  She sensed more than heard him move away. A disturbance in the energy that connected them. Good grief, just let it be the concussion that made me think we were connected. .“I thought we didn’t have a minute.”

  “Not one to spare, but this I planned on.”

  He was definitely farther away. Maybe ten feet? She heard something scrape and then a short curse. She opened her eyes just in time for the inch-by-inch revelation of an SUV that couldn’t be in that empty parking space, but was. The silky material slid off the roof of the car and into Slade’s arms with a momentum that belied its gossamer appearance. And amazingly, Slade went down under it.

  Though it was a ludicrous question, she asked anyway. “Need any help?

  The seemingly lightweight material barely moved when Slade braced his shoulder under it. “I just need a minute.”

  “A minute for what?”

  “For this damn energy cloth to lighten up.”

  Energy cloth? There was no such thing as energy cloth. Inching closer, she tried to slip her finger under the edge draped on the ground behind Slade. It was like trying to slip a finger under a concrete wall. “This is heavy.”

  “No shit.” His voice was strained with effort. “I can’t seem to separate the amount of energy it absorbs from the weight it takes on.”

  The cloth absorbed energy. For a moment fascination outweighed fear. “You created this?”

  “Yes.”

  Something banged in the far end of the garage. Fear returned in a rush as Slade’s nostrils flared and his head lifted. She jumped and stumbled back, looking in the direction of the sound, seeing nothing. “They’re coming, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah. Damn it.” With a grunt he hefted the material, folding it multiple times until it was small enough to pick up. He paused for a moment, balancing the weight in his hand, before tossing it to her.

  “Take that and get in the car.”

  Instinctively, she caught the now normal-weight material. Terror made her scream as blurred shadows rushed them. Slade dived for the attacking shadows as she dived for the passenger door. As she yanked the car door closed, something hit it. The car rocked. The window shattered. She threw her hands over her head as glass rained down around her. The material protected her from the worst. More thuds against the car. More of those horrific snarls. Curling in the seat, Jane bit her knuckles through the cloth, keeping the screams trapped within, waiting for the gouge of claws in her skin, waiting for the end. She didn’t want to die like this.

  The sudden silence was more shocking than the clamor of battle. Over the hum of the emergency lights she could hear the rasp of breathing. Someone—something—was alive. Slade. Was it Slade? Or was it something else and Slade lay on the concrete needing help while she cowered like a chicken? Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Jane scrambled out of the car. Glass crunched as her feet hit the pavement. One look and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Slade stood in front of her, the back of his white shirt torn and wet with blood. Through the gaping tear, she could see the tan of his skin and the darker color of torn flesh. Damaged, but alive. Slade was alive. Her heart started hammering. She wanted to smack him. “Damn you, how dare you scare me like that?” He made a noise that sounded distinctly like a ... growl? “Did you just growl at me?”

  Slade turned. He was as ugly as any of the monsters—forehead predominate, fangs sticking out, eyes glowing. Frighteningly different, yet somehow, blessedly familiar.

  I’m a vampire.

  Even now, looking at some pretty convincing evidence, she couldn’t believe. But she did take a step back.

  “Yes.”

  It came out as another deep rumble that should have terrified her, but didn’t. Forcing herself to take a step forward, she put her hands on her hips. “Well, stop it.”

  This time he didn’t growl. He cursed as he squatted by the nearest ... body. He was surrounded by twisted, bloody, unnaturally still bodies. One, two, three. She stopped at three, because it was either three or four, but if it was four, a head was rolling around somewhere unattached. “My God, what did you get me into?”

  “I didn’t get you into anything.” Slade pulled something from one of the bodies before moving to the next. “I’m trying to get you out of it.”

  His voice was as distorted as his face.

  “I was doing fine on my own.”

  The look he shot her said it all, and he was right. She had gotten herself into this, by taking a high-paying, do-what-you-want research job funded by shadow companies. Jobs like that didn’t come without strings and she knew it, but the lure of the research had drawn her. The temptation to wipe out hunger for the world’s children had been too potent to resist. She knew too well what it was like to be desperate and hungry with nowhere to turn.

  Monster Slade took her arm. “Get in the car. Now.”

  She didn’t want to get in the car. She didn’t want any part of this. What she did want was an explanation that made this all plausible. Putting her hand over his, she demanded, “Who are you?”

  “Vamp Man, remember?”

  How could she forget? She’d thought it was a joke, a cute little play on words, but he was serious. Believed it. Maybe even was it. Dear God, was she going to have to believe in vampires now? “You really meant it when you said you were a vampire, didn’t you?”

  Another push and another step backward brought her up against the car. “You were the one who thought I was joking.”

  “Who in their right mind would take you seriously?”

  “You.” More pressure.

  She resisted. “Look, I may be a lot of things, but I’m not stupid enough to get in the car with a vampire.”

  He jerked his thumb toward the bodies behind them. “You want to stay with them?”

  Hell no. “Not really.”

  Grabbing her pack off the floor he thrust it at her. “It’s either me or them.”

  She took it. Great.

  “If they’re called
Sanctuary, what do you call your group?”

  “Renegades.”

  “Perfect.”

  He glanced over his shoulders. His nostrils flared. She knew what that meant.

  “Don’t tell me more are coming.”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you not to tell me that.” She fumbled for the door handle. “Good God, do they breed like rabbits, or what?”

  Slade’s hands covered hers. Warm, hard, rough with calluses, redolent with an energy that sank through her skin and seeped into her nerve ends, soothing the frayed edges. “I won’t let them hurt you, Jane.”

  “Great.”

  The door opened. “You don’t believe me?”

  He arched that brow at her. She’d always been a sucker for a man who could do that. The angles in his face seemed softer, more normal. Was he changing back?

  “There’s only one of you and heaven knows how many of them.”

  “But I’m making you a promise.”

  He closed the door. She watched as he walked around the front of the car, every move graceful—the way a predator was graceful—the flex of muscle a smooth transition to power. He turned and caught her looking at him. She blushed. He winked and slid into the driver’s seat. With a flip of the key, the engine roared to life with an incredible pulse of power. “Is the engine altered?”

  “I’m good with mechanical things.”

  She glanced in the rearview mirror, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as shadows flickered. “Are you as good with mechanical things as you are with energy?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Do you think you could step on the gas pedal before the rest of those things get here?”