So. Awkward moment.
In fairness, the vamp camp doesn’t look any happier to see me than I am to see them. But then, I am standing around with my fangs hanging out, so who can blame them? They fidget from foot to foot and look from me to Quidel and back in quick succession.
He is facing me, putting himself between me and the bloodsuckers. He’s holding a placating arm out, but his lip is curling. He is exerting an effort just to keep his ‘human’ face on.
“Why are you protecting them?”
Clearly, I’m missing something. The idea of a slayer protecting vampires from another slayer is just so plain ludicrous. I mean, why would they? Okay, so I just did the same thing with Howard, but that’s different, he’s…
Oh.
Right.
They’re all just standing around, waiting for the penny to drop. I look again at Quidel, without the pain and drugs clouding my mind, looking for a clue. No, I would definitely have taken him for a slayer.
“So, that’s your grand plan?” I turn to Howard, who squirms and looks away. “To go with them? The Coven?”
I can’t believe that’s the best he can come up with. How can he imagine I will be safe, or Libby? I can think of a dozen reasons not to do this. Like, they’ll kill Libby. They’ll try to kill me. They think Howard is dead. They’re not going to be happy to see us. They’re evil. Okay, so maybe not a dozen, but enough to know there must be another way. Even as I run through them in my head, I know he’s right, though; they are our best chance now. They’re the only ones with resources to match The Breed. And they’re already here, apparently willing to help, which has to be a big plus in their favour.
“Well, if you have any better ideas, now’s the time.”
It’s the younger, fuzzy one, who I’d forgotten about. He’s standing right behind me. The drugs haven’t quite worn off yet.
I shake my head in resignation, unable to pluck any genius ideas out of the air, and make a throwaway comment I hope I don’t come to regret.
“Just kill me now.”
If they’re tempted, they don’t have time to act on it, because the window shatters sending shards of glass flying into the room. A small silver cylinder emitting gas rolls onto the floor. Humans. One of the vampires at the door shouts, “Incoming!”
BULLETS START RICOCHETING off the front door, and it’s game time. We move in a huddle; Howard and I flanking Libby, the young true-blood taking point and the older one the rear, the vampires forming an outer ring. The gunfire begins in earnest. I’m helpless, surrounded by vampires and unable to fight. It’s unnatural to run rather than attack, but I’m not leaving Libby’s side.
It’s taking too long. The vampires are taking hits. One of them is down already, leaving an opening through which Libby is vulnerable. I grab her by the waist with one arm and carry her to the van, shoving past the others and taking the last few yards alone. I thrust her into the van and jump in with her, turning to defend the entrance as the van in front explodes, courtesy of a hand-held rocket launcher.
Howard is not far behind, followed by Quidel and the other true-blood, who has thoughtfully brought the backpack and briefcase. Three vampires have made it into the van with us. One of them drags the door shut and it takes off with a screech of tyres.
There are human vampire hunters here; the ones who skirt around us at the station and mutter beneath their breath. They are dressed like SWAT, but their special weapon of choice is a small, powerful crossbow. Where other officers might carry a baton, these have short swords or sharp axes, for finishing the job.
As we pull away, vampires and hunters fall in bloody confusion. Bullets bounce off the van, and Libby pulls in closer to Howard. He puts his arm around her and shields her face.
Libby’s fear is not the only tangible anxiety in the van as we speed away, the third van behind us. The vampires are as afraid of me, in such proximity, as they are of the other slayers out there.
A series of explosions makes Libby cover her ears and duck her head. I look back out of the van and watch the house go up in flames. Blue, red, and green sparks shoot up above the garage. The rest of the chemicals in Howard’s lab light up the midnight sky in a brief firework display, before the smoke billows out and the fire spreads.
As I scan the scene, I see Jax on a roof, recovered from his ordeal. Nell is nowhere in sight, but Sam is running after the van, downing vampires without looking at them, his eyes on me the whole time, narrowed in hatred.
Dillon moves in from the side and grabs his arm in restraint. They both stare after the van. I feel Dillon reaching out to me with his mind, but brush him off, grabbing Libby’s hand. He will never hurt her again, without killing me first.
THE OFFENSIVE CONTINUES as we drive away from the city. It’s claustrophobic and I’m restless in the van. It is armoured, but if the slayers get close enough, that won’t count for much. None of the slayers, or the vampires for that matter, has any real trouble keeping up with the vehicles; they’re for Libby’s benefit. That gives me some comfort; it suggests they want to keep her alive, for now.
We’re heading toward a small private airport. As we approach a crossroads, several police cars moving at speed pull into our path. They slam on the breaks, their wheels smoking and squealing as they come to a halt around the edges of the intersection. The van lurches from side to side, throwing us around, but we pass between the vehicles forming roadblocks.
I’m not sure whether they were trying to stop us, or forming behind us to slow the slayers down. In any case, that’s what they’ve done. For a few moments, before more cars pull out behind us at the next junction, there’s a lull. The only sounds in the van are the slow breathing of the living vampires, and the much quicker, noisier breaths Libby is taking in an attempt to remain calm.
Before tonight, I assumed The Breed were the only ones with a force inside the police. If Quidel is a vampire and not a slayer, though, all those officers at the house tonight must have been aligned with them. Does that mean The Coven have a clandestine force of their own? Surely the government would not allow two warring supernatural factions to hide within their midst? Unless they didn’t know. In which case, are The Breed unsanctioned, too?
Occasional explosions and a constant rapport of gunfire surround us. The battle is between slayers and vampires, but there are humans involved on both sides, and they are taking the heaviest casualties. They all look the same to me; I have no idea how they know who to shoot.
If I were one of them, I wouldn’t be shooting other cops, I’d be focusing on the non-human element, but I guess they have their reasons. I glance reflexively at Libby. She is shaking.
The van pulls right up to a small plane. We dive from the van up the metal staircase into the jet, shielding Libby. Both Howard and I catch a bullet - Howard in the shoulder, me in the thigh - but we get Libby on the plane. I dig the bullet out of Howard’s shoulder with my nail. He hisses and sags onto the seat beside her. Then I pop the bullet out of my thigh, where it lodged just beneath the skin. It hurts, but I imagine it’s about the same as a bee sting for a human.
The vampires stream in behind us, the truebloods in their midst. The younger one has a backpack over each shoulder, the handle of Libby’s valise in the crook of his arm, the briefcase in one hand, the satchel in the other, and his arms wrapped around the cage. He drops the satchel and briefcase on Howard’s lap with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. Howard passes them to Libby and takes the cage from him.
Jax leaps through the door and at Howard, pure hatred burning in his eyes. Quidel steps into his path, and Jax lunges for his neck. The old man deflects his attack with one arm and runs at him, pushing him back towards the door. I’m gratified to see the surprise on Jax’s face at Quidel’s strength, as they rip chunks out of each other. Howard was wrong about one thing, though; they are not as strong as us, judging by the way Jax seems to be getting the upper hand.
I step in, not to save the trueblood, just wanting to get Jax off the
plane.
“You filthy, leech-loving cunt!” He spits as he lashes out at me. I duck to avoid his talons, and deliver a swift jab to his ribs.
He grabs me round the waist, pinning my arms to my side, and we struggle. I kick at his shins and head-butt him on the nose. He swears, but doesn’t release his grip on me. I break his hold with a knee to the groin, and he sweeps my legs out from under me, knocking me to the floor. He drops on top of me and pins me down, pushing my head outside and bashing it on the top tread of the metal stairs.
“He should have known …” he grinds the words out, grabbing me by the ear, lifting my head and pounding it against the metal,
“… you were nothing …”
I feel the impact as he starts hammering my skull to emphasise his point, purple spots blooming in front of my eyes.
“… but a freeloading …”
Crack.
“… bloodsucker …”
Crack.
“… whore.”
As Jax lets go of me and pulls his arm back, I grab his hair, throwing him off me and out through the door. He rolls a few times before landing in a heap.
The vampires heave the steps up into the plane, bringing me in with them, and shut the door.
I stand looking down at Jax through the small window as the plane starts to taxi away. He sits up and pulls his head from one side to the other, stretching his neck, then rolls his shoulders as he gets back to his feet, glaring at me.
Sam, a chunk of vampire flesh in hand, runs up to Jax and punches him in the jaw, knocking him back down. Ignoring him, Sam turns to watch the plane. He rips a mouthful of flesh and starts to chew, then spits it out, wrinkles his nose, and throws it down.
As the plane takes off, Dillon joins them. He looks up to me and his shoulders drop in a sigh of relief. There is gratitude in his eyes, which I can’t understand. He is reaching out to me still, and although I try to ignore his thoughts, he is getting through.
‘I will come for you, Maxi,’ he says.
He even makes it sound like a promise, rather than a threat. As if I should be glad or something.
Truebloods
ON THE PLANE, Libby stares out of the window, biting her bottom lip. The peppery scent of fear has faded, replaced by the vanilla taste of melancholy resignation.
Howard stows the mice and cool box in a storage compartment, then goes back to her side. I sit down facing them. Howard and I stare at each other in silence for a while. Despite the lack of seats, no one sits beside me.
Quidel and the other trueblood sit across the aisle; the others lounge or stand around. I am on a plane with some thirty vampires, and their fear and hatred is burning into me. I follow Libby’s lead and stare out the window, trying to fathom what’s going on.
I know little about The Coven. I have been used as a point-and-shoot weapon, told only enough to complete my next mission. I have never learned anything about their hierarchy.
It is obvious Quidel, the older one, is in charge. Now that I know what he is, I revise my estimate of his age. He must be closer to three thousand years old.
The younger one, who must be at least six hundred, because he looks like a human in his late thirties, seems to be his bodyguard. He keeps glancing sideways at me, and back to Quidel, his shoulders tense and his back erect, not leaning against the seat. His black hair is close cropped; his square jaw and straight nose scream “military.”
The way he grinds his teeth, and the silver sparks in his pale pewter eyes suggest he’s about as happy about the recent turn of events as I am. For once, I’m glad not to be able to hear someone’s thoughts.
After a while, the other vampires begin to murmur among themselves. They are restless and frustrated. They have taken heavy losses tonight. One of them leans over above the seat next to me, glaring from Howard, to Libby, and back.
“So, Howard, you think we’re diseased?”
Howard’s eyes are guarded. He takes a light breath before squaring up to him.
“I believe that vampirism is a curable disease, yes. When you were bitten, the venom effected a metamorphosis within you that slowed your metabolism to almost nil, exponentially extending your life expectancy. It also enhanced your immune system, and your ability to heal, and extended the telomere tags on the end of your chromosomes, much like a cancer. It is a reversible process, though.”
The vampire laughs an incredulous bark.
“Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“You need to ask?” Howard eyes him warily, and then sighs, looking away and speaking in a distant voice. “Look back at our history. Consider the cost of immortality. It is too high.”
“Hah!” This time there is anger and derision in the tone. “What price? We live freely. The humans fear us and do our bidding or die. We have nothing to fear.”
‘Except her.’ he adds silently. I adjust myself in my seat, enjoying the resulting startled movement from the vampire as he pulls instinctively away from me.
The younger trueblood turns his head, and leans forward, but Quidel rests a hand on his knee.
“Try to remember, Faruk,” he whispers, “that they are all our children.”
I don’t catch the first part of Faruk’s answer, only the last few words, “… for a tainted rasa.”
Quidel levels a gaze on him that speaks of disappointment and reproach. “There is no reason to believe that she is tainted,” his voice is still low, but pitched so that the other vampires can hear him enough to get the message.
Howard stays silent for a while, and the vampire waits. Eventually, Howard looks back to him, and says softly, resignation and regret in his voice, “You think you have evolved, but you are a throwback. We are all throwbacks. You live a hollow life, my friend. I would trade a thousand lifetimes such as this for a single life filled with real human emotions, and not just their shadows. Joy, and pain, and, yes, even fear.”
“Then you, my friend,” the vampire’s echo of Howard’s words makes them an insult, “are a fool.” He moves away to re-join the others and they share snide comments and derisive laughter.
I want to ask Howard about Father Patrick and the dead reporter, about the human factions in the government, and what the truebloods mean by ‘tainted,’ but not in present company. I try to project my thoughts to connect telepathically with him, but with Faruk in tthis close, my mind is clouded. I can’t focus. I lean forward, but still can’t get close enough to Howard to hear his thoughts. Maybe if he leant forward too, but he is slumped back in the seat, his head against the rest and his eyes closed.
Libby stirs for the first time since we boarded the plane, hooking her arm through Howard’s and turning towards him. She looks at him, and I think she might cry, but when she speaks, her voice is calm and steady.
“What you do now, Howard,” she looks from him to me, and then around the plane, aware of the thirty-strong hostile audience, “it puts us all in danger. Me most of all, I think.”
That’s an understatement. Why is she bringin it up?
“My life is tenuous at best, now. I may be gone from you any minute.”
I want to protest, and Howard starts to, saying, “I won’t let anything ... ”
“Ah, my sweet Howard, you are not a god,” she smiles at him; a thin smile forced through the fear, but her eyes are full of love and warmth. Her lips tremble as she goes on, her eyes sweeping around the plane, “You are but one, among many. I would not have you become one against many. You must focus on your work, my love, and bring this madness to an end.”
She holds Howard’s gaze with hers. For all his experience, intelligence, and knowledge, her simple uneducated wisdom is more than equal to him. He knows it, and nods.
“And you, my child,” Libby turns to me, “you must bite your tongue and bide your time. If anything happens to me, you must mind your father. He has a good soul.”
I don’t know whether she means to look after him or to do as he tells me. Either way it’s unnecessary to say. What
else would I do? But I am not one among many and I will not let anything happen to her. I know better than to announce that in present company under these circumstances, though, and simply nod.
“Good, then it is settled.”
WHEN THE PLANE circles to land six hours later, there are no announcements from the pilot, no light to advise the passengers to wear seat belts. The vampires just begin preparing to disembark, and the plane taxis to a halt. Howard retrieves the mice and cool box, and Libby and I gather our things.
As one of the vampires moves to open the door, the colour drains from Libby’s face. Her eyes roll into the back of her head. She puts up a hand and yells, “Nu! Asteptam! Wait!”
The vampire steps aside. A silver-tipped crossbow bolt blasts through the door and into a nearby seat. Everyone ducks as a hail of rounds shoots through the passenger lounge.
The plane begins to move again, pulling deep into a hangar. We pile out and take up defensive positions. Howard and I stay close to Libby, shielding her with our bodies, until another black van screeches to a halt in front of us.
Quidel, Faruk, and the vampires are shielding us with their bodies. One of them falls back against me, a crossbow bolt sticking out from his heart. I yank it out, and push him off me. He slumps to the ground, but within seconds is beginning to stir again.
Slayers are in the hangar now. Obviously, The Breed knows exactly where we are going, and does not want us to get there. We need to get out, and fast.
The van door opens. Howard bundles Libby in, followed by the mice and our other luggage. He dives in after it and turns to pull me in. As he does, Jax lands on the roof, which crumples under the force of the impact. He reaches in for Howard, and yanks him back out.
As Jax flies off the roof at Howard, I lunge at him, but Dillon pounces on me from the side. We land on the floor, rolling, with his arms around me. I don’t know how they got here so fast. Guess we’re not the only ones with access to private planes.
Breed: Slayer Page 8
