by Drew Hayes
Part of me wished I’d had the sense to chuck the damn Jewel at Deborah before we got away, albeit a small part. This job was mine to complete; thrusting it onto someone else’s shoulders wasn’t an option. Besides, of all the tricks and techniques of vampirism, this was the only one where I was not deficient. I absolutely knew how to run like hell, and that’s exactly what Albert and I did.
We raced along the dark roads, through sections of town too poor or deserted to warrant street lights. Once we got closer to town, where there were witnesses and traffic cameras, we would have to assume more mundane demeanors, but until then, we pumped our supernatural legs for all they were worth. Finally, as light became more abundant and we started having to hide from a growing number of passing cars, we reached the point where a pair of pale figures racing through the night would draw too much attention.
“Albert, in all of Arch’s training, has he taught you how to hotwire a car?” This was not a question or skill I’d ever anticipated needing in my life—or afterlife, for that matter—but it was hardly the first one to surprise me with its newfound relevance since I became undead. “Perhaps we should borrow a vehicle to complete our errand, something common enough to blend in. We can return it tomorrow with a full tank and some cash on the seat as apology.”
“Sorry, I’m not great with that stuff. Neil usually casts a spell or something. I’m supposed to be learning front line while he focuses on support.” Albert was visibly sheepish about not being able to help, though the feeling didn’t seem to last as long as I’d expected. He was back to looking serious once more and shaking his head within seconds.
“Besides, we can’t risk taking another car. Whoever found us might have been tracking the gem somehow, or they could have learned what companies were hired to move the briefcases and hacked our cell phones, or any number of things. We don’t know how they found us, so we have to assume it might happen again. Knowing that they already fired a missile at a vehicle on a public street, do you really want to risk going back into traffic?”
That was an excellent point. If we tried to use vehicles, we’d put others in danger. Of course, that was true to some extent no matter what we did; whoever wanted this jewel was incredibly motivated. Turning it over wouldn’t solve the problem either, given the supposed power of what we carried. The best path we had was to proceed on foot, keeping away from crowds as much as possible, until we could put this briefcase in Gideon’s hands.
It probably said something about my life that the safest scenario I could envision was handing over an item of incredible power to an ancient dragon who had demonstrated at nearly every turn a casual disinterest toward most people’s continued survival. But Gideon was at least someone with propriety: he did his wicked deeds in the shadows. He didn’t fire on cars in the open streets. If I had to choose someone to take this, I would choose the devil I knew. Unfortunately, since she was off dealing with the fey, I would have to settle for Gideon.
My pocket buzzed as I contemplated our next move, and I checked my phone to reveal a text from Lillian. I read it and then reported what she’d said to Albert. “Looks like they hung around to watch the helicopter team for a while. The good news is that, last they saw, the chopper was still on the ground. The bad news is that Lillian heard them radio out the news that our SUV was empty, so we should assume there are cohorts who might be on our trail right now.”
Albert was already on his own phone, checking local maps. “Arch made us memorize good locations for meet ups in every place we’ve worked so far, and we used Winslow as practice. There’s an abandoned gas station a few miles north, on our way to Gideon’s. Nothing too near to it, and we can take some low-traffic streets to run there. I think that’s our best option for a meeting place.”
“I’ll text Lillian the specifics.” This was a risk, of course. Someone might be monitoring our lines, or Lillian could have been captured, the enemy then using her phone to lure us into a trap. At a certain point, however, one has to say the hell with it and just move forward. Allowing yourself to be tied up by all the potential ways things could go wrong only resulted in making no progress in any direction. I should know. I spent my entire life doing just that. It had taken undeath for me to understand that, sometimes, poor action was better than none. It wasn’t a lesson I intended to require again.
Besides, if these enemies were powerful enough to take down Lillian and Deborah, then they’d have no trouble dealing with us. This way, we either got our friends back, or met an enemy we’d had no hope of defeating in the first place. Whichever one happened, at least we wouldn’t be around humans. The very least we could do at this point was minimize the casualties.
Albert and I set off once more, keeping a pace closer to that of humans—albeit very athletic ones—for so long as we were in view. I said a silent word of thanks to Neil for whatever he’d done to Albert’s sword; otherwise, we’d have stood out tremendously as we raced through the late-night streets. It was strangely peaceful, running along in the cool air, just me and an old friend hanging out for the first time in some while.
“Your training seems to be going well.” I broke the silence, as we ran with little effort; neither of us had to breathe, so it wasn’t as though talking during a sprint was taxing. “Aside from the tweaking Neil’s done with your body, I can tell you’re working hard. Arch must be proud.”
The beaming glow on Albert’s face threatened to give away our position. “Thank you. I’ve still got a long way to go before I’m on the same level as an agent, but Neil and I are giving it our all to improve. It’s like you told me, Fred: since we’re undead, we don’t change naturally. We have to find our own ways to grow.”
That sounded more succinct than the rambling wisdom I’d attempted to offer. But Albert had always possessed a talent for drilling to the heart of things. I was glad to see him so improved in so many respects—it lessened my worry that something would happen to him out there. Still, I also wondered about the young man who’d wanted so badly not to hurt anyone that he’d literally carved through the magic of a chimera. I hoped that version of Albert remained intact in there, that changing his occupation hadn’t dulled the inherent goodness that had always been a part of him. Ultimately, whether or not this happened would be Albert’s decision; only he knew the best version of himself to fit the future he wanted.
The gas station grew closer, and the nearby property plots turned more barren. Some even bore faded “Coming Soon!” signs for projects that had never been completed. Winslow was going through something of an economic boom as of late, and part of me wondered how long these plots would be abandoned. By my estimates, this land would be quite viable within a few short years, especially if the city kept drawing in businesses at its current rate.
Getting lost in real estate speculation turned out to be a mistake. As we drew near the gas station, the sounds of engines reached my ears. I turned in time to find three cars tearing down the road. They screeched to a stop directly in our path. Had they been waiting just out of earshot for us to arrive? Or were they tracking us and had exceptional timing? There was really no way to tell, and it was an academic concern, anyway. As large figures began to emerge from the cars, all with guns in hand, the “how” of the situation mattered far less than the “what now.”
A sharp noise—the ringing of steel—pierced the night. I watched as the people by the cars grew tense; a few even took steps backward. Albert stepped forward from behind me, the Blade of the Unlikely Champion held steady in his grip. With more grace than I’d ever seen him display, Albert lifted the sword and pointed the tip directly at our attackers.
“This man and his delivery are under my protection. Any who would do him harm must first pass by my blade. If you want the Jewel of Temecula badly enough to pit your strength against a weapon of destiny, then harden your resolve and attack. Just do not claim that you were not given fair warning. What happens next is in your hands, and yours alone.”
It was a good speech: deliver
ed with authority and confidence, the kind of warning that would have made me dash in the other direction. Our captors, on the other hand, didn’t share my appreciation for fine public speaking. They hissed something amongst themselves that I couldn’t understand, and then opened fire on us both.
5.
Bullets hurt. If that seems obvious, then forgive the digression, but some people presume that just because a vampire’s body is hardy enough to resist injury, and heals at an exceptional rate, that the only pain we feel must be from exposures to such weaknesses as silver. That presumption is wildly incorrect. We do still feel pain; just on a lowered scale from what our human bodies could manage. A high enough caliber bullet, however, hurts whether you’re a vampire or not.
The first round skimmed my right shinbone, taking a big chunk of calf muscle with it. Round two caught me in the gut, creating a hole in the part of my anatomy that was largely ornamental at this point. It was the third round that scared me the most, as it tore past my head close enough for me to hear the air being cleft. I wasn’t sure if having one’s head shot off counted as decapitation or not, and I really didn’t want to find out.
Those were the shots that came near me before the barrier snapped into place, Albert having plucked a charm off his belt to hold aloft in his free hand. Instantly, a dark, crackling energy appeared between us and the attackers. I could still hear the gunfire, but none of the bullets were getting through anymore.
“Neil made you some tools, I’m guessing.”
“A few. Undead can’t use magic, but we can still activate magical items. These were in case we ever got separated, or had to work alone. They’re our first resource contingency.” Albert was moving as he spoke, tilting his head and adjusting his line of sight in spite of the shadow wall blocking our view. “Do you hear them, Fred? I think they’re breathing.”
With a little focus, I confirmed that there were indeed labored breaths coming from the other side of the barrier. I could also hear hissing—a lot of hissing, in fact. Was it some strange dialect, or were these some kind of snake-people? Better to deal with one thing at a time. “Definitely breathing.”
“Living creatures, then; ones with actual cardiovascular systems that wear out.” It was strange. Despite the fact it was Albert speaking, I could almost picture the words coming from Arch’s mouth. Albert had clearly been a very devoted student if he was even mimicking the older agent’s tone. “That means we can probably outrun them if we destroy the cars.”
Looking down, I checked my leg to see that it was already healing. As one might have expected after my lessons with Deborah and the night we had planned, I’d stuffed myself on blood before the mission, just in case. That decision was paying off already; I’d just gone through two serious injuries and would likely add more before this was over.
“I’ve never had to murder a car before. Any advice?”
“In a minute or so, they’re going to give up their current position and try to come around the other side of the barrier. When that happens, I’ll drop the shield, and we both sprint forward toward their vehicles. They’ll fire on us, but as long as we’re fast and catch them off guard, we’ll be tough targets to hit. You should roll underneath, that will give some protection from their bullets, and then start breaking everything you can. Axles, especially; go for those first. Can’t drive without wheels. Stay there until I’m done, then we run around the gas station for cover and sprint with all we’ve got.”
Sure enough, I could hear the shuffle of feet shifting position; the attackers were moving to try to flank us. It made sense. The barrier was just a wall, and if they came from opposite directions, we couldn’t hide behind it on both sides. Albert heard them, too, silently mouthing a countdown to me so I could ready myself. I braced myself on my good left leg, giving the right more time to heal. I’d have to run on it in the initial sprint, but hopefully, by the time we were done with the cars, it would be better.
The barrier came down as Albert’s countdown concluded, and I was off. Bullets filled the air once again, but we were both moving too quickly for our opponents to easily aim at us. I did exactly as instructed, rolling on the dirty ground as I came upon the closest car, tearing my sweater vest as I made it under the sedan. It was unexpectedly peaceful, at least compared to the din of gunfire nearby, yet I couldn’t permit myself a moment of rest. Using my free hand—the briefcase tightly clutched in the other—I began to smash through the exposed underbelly of the metal chariot. First went the axles—which were not easy to snap even with my strength; I had more than a little determination helping me along. After that, I just ripped into things at random, tearing through the floorboards on more than one occasion.
I could hear more gunshots, as well as people screaming and loads of hissing. Then I heard a heavy clunk from nearby, the sound of something far too large to be a body hitting the ground. Much as I wanted to look out, I trusted Albert. If he was confident he could deal with two cars, then he could. He’d have some kind of backup plan if he ran into trouble.
My hand tore through something that was probably important, sending a spray of liquid down onto the ground. I didn’t recognize the smell, so it wasn’t gas, which was reassuring while also not terribly helpful. Mercifully, Albert’s rallying cry came seconds later, giving me the all clear to run.
“Fred, I’m done. Let’s go!”
Rolling as fast as I could in a prone position, I came up on the side of the sedan not facing the gun-toting thieves and was treated to a sight so impressive it gave me pause despite the dire situation. That clunk noise I’d heard turned out to be the sound of a car that had been cut in half collapsing into two metallic heaps. Albert had bisected one of them clean through, meaning he was either much stronger or the sword far sharper than I’d realized. The second of Albert’s vehicles had seen its trunk and rear wheels sliced away, a feat that would have been rather shocking if it weren’t being compared to its ruined twin.
A stray shot brought me back to the moment, reminding me that this was indeed a two-part plan. Wrecking their cars was only step one: we still had to escape.
Together, Albert and I bolted through a brief unblocked section of road before taking refuge behind the gas station’s corner. Working one-handed—and dearly thankful for all the overbearing superiors who’d insisted on keeping in constant contact during the high-profile projects I’d once had—I texted like the wind. I sent a quick warning to let Deborah and Lillian know that the gas station was compromised, and then shoved the phone back into my pocket. We could figure out more later.
I heard the footsteps of our pursuers approaching, so once the text was done, Albert and I broke into a run once more. In minutes, we’d lost our tail. Whatever they were, they couldn’t match the speed and limitless stamina of the undead. We didn’t give much thought or heed to where we were going; we just kept running vaguely north, keeping to as many deserted stretches where we could really bolt whenever possible. Unfortunately, the closer we drew to Richard’s building (where Gideon was supposed to be waiting), the fewer those spots became, and when Albert and I leapt a bush to find ourselves in an outdoor strip mall packed with people sauntering between bars, we had to drop back down to human speeds. Drunks would dismiss a little craziness here and there, but some of them were bound to be designated drivers who would trust what they’d seen. Besides, in this day and age, nearly everyone had a camera, and while the Agency could handle that, Krystal had been very clear about how much of a pain it was when they had to.
“I think we did pretty well.” Albert was already checking the street and store signs, getting a sense of where we’d ended up. “Not too far from our goal; maybe five more minutes if we run full-speed.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be viable anymore.” Now that we were in downtown proper, the crowds were swelling. There were still a few barren areas between this strip mall and the bustling bar crowds hosted by a big-city downtown on the weekend, but not nearly enough. We’d have to m
ove much slower, as well as go out of our way to avoid large gatherings of people. At this point, even if we didn’t know how, it was obvious the thieves were tracking us. At that thought, however, I had a realization.
“Hang on. Let me check something.” I popped out my phone to find some new texts from Lillian. They’d both made it to the gas station, only to find bullet holes and nothing else, not even scraps of the destroyed cars. While that was worrying in itself, the fact that neither of them had encountered any issues did tell us one thing with reliable certainty: our would-be crooks had to be tracking the briefcase. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have known to pursue Albert and me exclusively; they’d have sent people after Lillian and Deborah, as well. On its own, that didn’t help much. We were still being hunted, and the method they were using to find us was the one thing we couldn’t get rid of. It did tell us that they weren’t monitoring the others’ movements, though, and that had potential.
After a few more minutes of hurried texting, I tucked my phone away once more. To my surprise, Albert hadn’t been standing around while I typed. He’d apparently done a quick sweep of the area, probably checking for more ambushes, and his search had yielded some unexpected results. Tucked under each of his arms were neon-orange bicycles with a gaudy logo on the front.
“Sketchy Doug’s Bike Rental. Why would you name a company . . . never mind. I know. The green rush.” Some of my state’s recent laws and tolerances had brought a new kind of clientele to Colorado as of late, and while I was happy to work with any company that acted ethically, dealing with these folks often required accommodating certain . . . quirks. Of course, they had virtually nothing on working with parahumans, so it was more occasional curiosity than inconvenience.
