by Rachel Caine
‘All good,’ she called up. ‘Nice catch, handsome.’
‘Anything for you,’ Michael said. They may have even kissed. ‘Ready, who’s next?’
‘Claire,’ Shane said, and Myrnin nodded. She didn’t like it, but nobody looked like they were going to take no for an answer this time. She held out her hands, and Jesse took hold, winked at her and gave her a reassuring smile, and swung her out over nothing. Claire had a dizzying moment of terror, because even though she knew intellectually that Michael was down below her in the dark, ready to catch her, it didn’t much matter. Humans feared the dark, and they feared falling into it, and wow, it was scary.
Before Jesse could let go, Pete yelled, ‘Down!’ and Claire felt herself being swung away from the hole, thrown toward cover, and a lot of things happened all at once. A deafening, ear-shredding burst of gunfire in the enclosed space. Bright flashes. Yelling and screaming. Bodies moving against the bursts of light.
The only thing Claire could do was curl up and try to make herself small.
Shane fell on top of her, driving her breath away, but he wasn’t hurt, just shielding her from the chaos; she could feel the hot press of his breath against her neck. ‘Are you hit?’ he yelled, and she said no, but she wasn’t sure he could hear her.
A sudden, ominous silence fell. The smell of burnt metal and gunpowder was choking, and Claire coughed a little, even as she tried not to draw attention. Stay small, stay safe, her instincts were telling her. Don’t move.
And then Shane moved, rolling away and up to his feet, because Pete was shouting and tossing him something that Claire recognised seconds later as a large gun. Some kind of assault rifle, she guessed. Shane held it like he’d fired something like it before – and he probably had, knowing his dad’s paramilitary training – and fell in beside Pete. ‘Call out!’ he yelled. ‘Let me know you’re okay!’
‘Fine,’ Claire heard Oliver say. Then Jesse, in a clipped, tight way, affirming that she and Liz were both fine. Pete was all right. Claire said the same.
But Myrnin didn’t answer.
Claire found him lying still on the ground, eyes shut, and she thought she might have actually screamed; he was lying like Derrick, pale and still and bloodied, and the blood that was on his face dripped to the concrete.
Then he opened his eyes and said, in a small, annoyed voice, ‘Ouch. I haven’t had that happen in ages. I still don’t favour it.’ And a bullet literally pushed its way out of his forehead.
Claire fell to her knees. She watched the bullet tumble off the slope of his skin and hit the concrete in slow motion; it left a little splashed trail of blood as it went, until it made a loop and rolled to a stop against a wall. She saw it, but she didn’t exactly believe it … she’d seen vampires heal, but she’d never actually thought about bullets, and where they might have gone.
But they had to go somewhere, and that somewhere was out.
‘Glad it was you and not me,’ Shane said, and offered Myrnin a hand up. ‘Any brain damage?’
‘Since the bullet actually passed through his brain, then yes, idiot boy, there’s certainly brain damage,’ Oliver said. And sure enough, as Myrnin tried to rise, his left side didn’t function properly, and he stumbled and pitched into a drunken fall on the floor. Oliver sighed in annoyance and helped him rise, again, and this time held on as Myrnin staggered. One foot didn’t seem to be responding. ‘It will pass. And his brain’s the least fragile thing about him, in any case.’
‘You say the nicest things,’ Myrnin said. He was slurring his words, and he threw an arm around Oliver’s neck. ‘Marry me.’
‘Exactly what part of the brain did that bullet hit?’ Shane asked, hovering on the edge of manic laughter.
Oliver sighed. ‘He means carry me. And no. I won’t.’
Claire shook herself out of the strange fugue she seemed to be in, got up, and went to Pete, who was at the doorway. There were two dead men there. Both were wearing suits, and there were gold pins on their lapels – some kind of horizon, and a stylised sun rising over it. Pete was kneeling down with his eyes on the entrance while patting down the corpses – at least, Claire assumed they were corpses. They weren’t moving, and there was a hell of a lot of blood. Or, in vampire terms, wasted dinner. She supposed she ought to feel shocked about it, but these same two men had been intent on killing her, and Shane, and if Myrnin hadn’t been a vampire he’d have been lying just as dead.
She couldn’t work up much emotion at the moment.
‘Anything?’ she asked. Pete shook his head.
‘No ID,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think it matters right now. Two down, and four more still out there. Those aren’t bad odds, but the problem is that they have us exactly where they need us – we make any attempt to break out through the door, and they can just pick us off.’
‘Not the vamps,’ she said.
‘They’re not stupid. They know how to place a head shot; they did it on your friend back there. The vampires can’t get to them before a bullet in the brain takes them down, at least temporarily.’
‘But we’re not going out through the door – are we?’
‘No. But somebody has to stay and make sure they stay out until we’re clear.’ Pete gave her a brief, funny smile, and she was struck all of a sudden by how oddly cute he was. ‘Odds are it isn’t going to be one of the vampires. They like to leave humans for that kind of time-buying exercise.’
‘Not true,’ Jesse said. Claire didn’t know where she’d come from, but suddenly she was there, standing next to Pete. It was gratifying that Pete evidently hadn’t seen her coming either; he flinched the way Claire knew she had about a thousand times, out of sheer surprise. He sent Jesse an exasperated look. She recognised that, too. ‘I’ll take the last train out, Pete. You go and help get everyone else to safety.’
‘Jesse—’
‘Just go,’ she said. ‘And give me the gun. I can shoot, you know. I learnt when firearms were still as simple as powder and shot, and I’ve certainly survived far worse people than these.’ She sounded utterly sure of it, as calm as if she was discussing a simple stroll in the park. If she took strolls with an assault rifle. She turned to face the door, and raised the gun and placed four quick, competent shots. ‘There. That’ll give them something to think about for a bit.’
Pete pushed Claire back toward the hole, where Shane was urgently gesturing; Myrnin was already gone, dropped down for Michael to catch, she assumed. Oliver was lowering Elizabeth down. ‘Careful with this one,’ he called to Michael. ‘Don’t want her bleeding out. We might need her later.’ That sounded … less than altruistic, although Claire hoped Liz didn’t catch the reference.
She didn’t seem to. She was so woozy she didn’t even scream as she was dropped, or as she was caught.
And then it was between Shane and Claire. ‘You first,’ he said.
‘Why?’
Shane and Pete exchanged looks. ‘Seriously?’ Pete asked.
‘Yeah, she’s like that.’ Shane turned to her. ‘Because you’re my girlfriend, and I’m not going until you’re safe. How’s that?’
‘Good enough,’ she said, and then Oliver was holding her and dangling her like tasty bait over the abyss …
… And she was falling
She somehow managed not to scream, though every instinct told her to; it seemed to take forever, but then she was landing in a strong pair of arms that cushioned her, expertly adjusted her weight, and settled her on her feet as neatly as if she’d just floated to a graceful stop. ‘Shane!’ Michael said. ‘Jump!’
‘I hate this,’ Shane said. When Oliver tried to reach for him, he held out his hand in a direct refusal. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ Michael said.
Shane jumped. Michael caught him, and tossed him onto his feet as neatly as if it was a regular acrobatic act. Cirque du Soleil, only with vampires, Claire thought. Then again, how could anyone be sure those bouncy people weren’t vampires already?
Pete
wasn’t that self-sufficient; he took advantage of Oliver’s reach to lower him down, and seemed grateful to be on the stone floor of the run-off tunnel once he was safely landed. It was mostly dry, Claire realised; a thin, dark trickle of moisture ran down the centre, but it had been parched recently in Cambridge, unseasonably so. At least they didn’t have to worry about keeping their heads above water.
Oliver jumped, and Michael stepped aside to give Oliver space to land; as with all vamps, he did it gracefully and effortlessly.
Above, Jesse’s gun suddenly let loose with a murderous volley of shots, all growing louder and louder. And it was covered up by a much louder, more sustained roar of returning fire. ‘She’s coming,’ Oliver said from where he was still supporting Myrnin, who was giving them a lopsided, loony grin. ‘Be ready!’
Even with the warning, they weren’t, and Michael had to scramble to get out of the way as Jesse dropped suddenly down the hole, red braid twisting and waving in the air as she plummeted. She was out of breath, the tip of the assault rifle’s barrel was hot and smoking, and she was smiling as if she was having the best possible day of her life as she landed like she had shock absorbers for legs, rising smoothly back up to an unruffled, relaxed stand. ‘Time to go, children,’ she said. ‘Now.’
‘This way,’ Oliver said, and strode off in his chosen direction. There wasn’t much to do but follow. He dragged the still-reeling Myrnin with him. Jesse let them all go first; she stood staring up at the hole, ready to shoot any face that appeared overhead, but it seemed as if for the moment, their opponents were either baffled, or cautious, or both.
She was right behind Claire as they ran down the tunnel. No way could they run vampire speed, burdened by humans, but Jesse seemed to have practice in regulating her speed to an easy cruise; she didn’t overtake Claire even when Claire had to slow down to avoid the dimly seen debris that littered the run-off tunnel. The bones of a large dog tried to trip her up once, and Jesse’s pale, strong left hand grabbed her arm to steady her. ‘Careful,’ Jesse said. She sounded amused. ‘Wouldn’t want you to break a leg when you’re almost safe.’
Claire knew there was no assuming safe until they were far, far away from here, and she started to say it – and then it was obvious, because the trap sprang shut.
Claire didn’t really notice the dark offshoot tunnel as they approached it; the glow of streetlights at the end was much too alluring. It was only when a group of figures stepped out of it, into her path, that she was forced to skid to a halt. There were three of them facing her – two armed men, and one standing still in the centre who didn’t fit the template she’d become used to seeing.
A man, but carrying something different. Bulky.
Jesse hardly paused at all. ‘Trap!’ she yelled, a sudden and shocking sound that echoed from the tunnel’s concrete like thunder. At the same time, she pushed Claire out of the way, up against the far wall, to get her out of the line of fire.
As Jesse brought up her assault rifle, utterly unconcerned with being outnumbered, the figure in the middle raised that bulky, clumsy thing he was holding, aimed, and fired. Or at least that was what Claire assumed happened – there was no light, no sound, nothing but a shiver that went through Claire’s nerves as if she’d stood close to lightning.
And Jesse gasped, dropped her weapon, and staggered backward, hands clapping to her head as if she’d been stunned. She let out a sharp, agonised cry, and suddenly dropped down into a crouch – a fear position, a child’s futile attempt to hide from her tormentors.
She was sobbing.
And it hit home to Claire with a white-hot surge of rage what was going on. That was VLAD. Her VLAD, being used on her friend.
But it works, some ice-cold part of her said. The field test is successful. She told that part of her to shut up and die, and lunged off the wall, trying to get to the man holding her creation and pointing it at Jesse.
It was Dr Davis, and he looked elated. In fact, he was grinning in triumph.
Claire yelled in inarticulate fury, and lunged toward him. She saw one of the armed men standing next to Dr Davis turning toward her, and the barrel of his gun swung with him …
… And then Michael was in the way, grabbing the gun and slamming it up with stunning force into the man’s face. Her would-be shooter dropped like a sack of mud … but then Dr Davis hit Michael point blank in the back with a shot from VLAD, and Claire, rushing at him, saw Michael’s face go alabaster white, his blue eyes terrifyingly wide as he pitched to his knees.
Like Jesse, he curled into a protective ball, shivering. Unlike Jesse, he was making a hoarse, faint, screaming sound.
Myrnin was lurching toward Dr Davis, and he – through accident or design – fell before he could be shot. Behind him, though, came Shane. He’d picked up a thick, splintered length of tree branch, and he stepped up and swung it like he was planning a home run with the second gunman. Score. That one fell, too, as unconscious as the one Michael had clocked.
Dr Davis focused not on Shane, but on Oliver, the last vampire standing. Claire leapt over Michael’s curled-on-its-side body and put all her strength into a shove on Dr Davis’s shoulder as she landed.
It was just enough that he missed. But Dr Davis wasn’t done, not by a long shot; he yelled, slammed an elbow back into her ribs, and simultaneously with the eruption of white-hot pain, Claire heard Shane yell, too.
Only Shane’s cry was a warning. ‘Reinforcements!’ he said, and grabbed Claire’s arm on the fly to shove her toward the exit. ‘Just go, get the hell out of here!’
Pete, Liz and Eve were already gone, though if Claire knew Eve at all, she knew that Pete would have his hands full trying to stop her from plunging back in to defend Michael. There were more men pouring out of the tunnel, and Michael and Jesse and Myrnin were down, and Oliver was leaving …
‘Get Myrnin!’ Shane yelled. He paused to grab Michael’s arm and pull him up. It was like pulling a sack of wet noodles – wet noodles that weakly resisted the help. ‘Claire, get out of here!’ There were too many coming, and Shane knew it. He’d already made one command decision … Jesse knelt helpless and out of it farther down the tunnel, and he knew they couldn’t reach her and get out in time. She realised with horror that he’d already written her off. He was saving what he could.
But he was right. She had to save one of them, and it had to be Myrnin.
Claire helped him up, and although he was clumsy, he kept himself moving as they ran/stumbled for the end of the run-off tunnel where Oliver had already gone. She looked behind her. Shane had dragged Michael’s weight into a fireman’s carry, and was moving as fast as he could, face contorted with effort. Michael was as limp as a corpse.
Claire saw men with guns forming up behind him, and knew with heart-stopping certainty that she was about to see Shane die. If they wanted Michael, which she thought they did, then it wouldn’t mean much to them to shoot them both. Shane wouldn’t make it. Michael would.
She screamed in horror, because she could see it, as inevitable as a train crash – the roar of the guns, the blood, Shane going down in a lifeless heap.
But it didn’t happen.
‘Hold fire!’ Dr Davis said sharply. ‘Let them go. We’ve got what we need.’
They needed only one vampire, then. It didn’t matter which one.
And as Shane reached her and passed her, Claire realised with a sick and heavy heart that they were going to have to totally abandon Jesse.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two blocks away, and a lot of turns and back alleys later, their little group re-formed again. It was a deserted open-area warehouse that hadn’t been used in years, from the dusty smell of it. Oliver peeled back the broken fence, punched open the padlocked door, and hustled them all inside.
As soon as Shane eased Michael down to a sitting position, he crouched down to look at his best friend. Michael was silently weeping, face concealed behind his shaking hands. He was a mess, and Claire swallowed hard when she saw how b
adly VLAD had affected him. Whatever adjustments Dr Anderson had made to it when she’d reassembled it, she’d ramped it up to eleven.
Shane put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, squeezed gently, and then bolted to his feet with his fists clenched as he advanced on Oliver. ‘What the actual hell, man? You left Jesse behind! You left us behind!’ He didn’t stop. He got right up in Oliver’s face and shoved him. It was like shoving a stone wall, and it was Shane that got pushed back a step. That didn’t make him calm down. If anything, Shane’s face grew a deeper shade of red. ‘You son of a bitch, you ran!’
‘Yes,’ Oliver said coldly. ‘I did. That is a tactic called retreat, perhaps you’ve not heard of it. When the odds are against you and victory is impossible, strategic retreat in order to regroup is the favoured option. And you, stupid boy, are what we used to call cannon fodder. Of course I left you.’
‘Yeah, you know what, Sun Tzu, running’s also called cowardice. You think you’re so much better than humans, but you know what? We don’t abandon our friends, we go back. Asshole.’
Oliver ignored him, which was an impressive accomplishment, since Shane was angry, in his face, and well within punching distance. He focused instead on Claire. ‘The device,’ he said. ‘That was yours. The one that disappeared from Anderson’s lab.’ He shoved Shane out of his way as if he were a buzzing, annoying fly, and strode toward Claire. ‘Did you give it to him? Did you know what he would do with it? Do you know what you’ve done?’ Shane tried to get in his way, again, but Oliver wasn’t having any. He slammed Shane back with one hand, grabbed Claire, and towed her to where Michael was huddled against the wall, with Eve holding him in her arms. ‘Look at him. Look! Do you know what you’ve done to him? How long it could last? Do you have any idea what kind of destruction you’ve unleashed against us? It’s the death of us, do you understand? The death of us!’
It wasn’t Shane this time, but Myrnin who stepped in. He was obviously feeling better; he seemed steady enough as he took hold of Oliver’s shoulder, and unlike Shane’s merely human effort, Myrnin’s wiry, deceptive vampire strength forced the other man around toward him. ‘Don’t yell at her,’ he said, and for all his occasional goofiness and erratic behaviour, in this moment he was utterly steady. ‘If you want to vent your spleen, face me. I allowed her to build and test it. I allowed her to remove it from my custody. I sent her to Irene. All of this is my fault, not hers. And if you lay a hand on her, I will rip it off.’ That last bit was delivered with such dead-level seriousness that Claire got a chill. ‘Stop portioning the blame and begin solving the problem, Oliver. Done is done, and dead is dead, but Jesse is still alive, and so is Michael. We must reclaim the device, reverse these effects, control the damage that this vampire expert whom none of us foresaw has wrought. That is the plan. Now, it is up to you to produce the strategy, my lord.’
