Drake rushed out onto the platform and glanced toward the last car to check on Alison. A half dozen or so people raced around trying to find safety, but not Alison. Drake jumped back into the car just as the doors slid shut. As the train pulled out of the station, made his way toward the rear of the train.
ALISON STEPPED BACK QUICKLY and dodged to the left, avoiding Toni’s attack. The master lunged again. Alison grabbed the support rail above her head and pulled herself up, brought her knees to her chest, and kicked out. Connecting with Toni’s chest, she propelled the master across the car into the sliding doors. Alison dropped to the deck and reached under her jacket for a stake, but before she could withdraw it Toni sprang off of the doors. Twisting to her right, Alison stopped the master with a sidekick.
By now the surrounding passengers had become painfully aware of the battle raging around them. Most had either moved to the farthest exit, desperately waiting for a chance to escape, or sat terrified in their seats, leaning away from the conflict.
One young man raced forward to help Alison. Toni spun around as he neared, wrapping the talon-like fingers of her right hand around his face and digging in. Toni’s other hand clasped him by the back of the head. With a quick twist of her hands, she snapped his neck with a loud crack. Toni pulled her hands away with a gesture of disgust. The man’s body crumpled to the deck, his head at an obscene angle.
Alison quickly assessed the situation. For the first time she faced not a mere snuffy, but a master, and this one twice as tough as any vampire she had gone up against before. She could not effectively fight it while trapped amongst the vertical support railings. She had to get out of this confined area, and quickly. With a quick sweep of her leg, Alison kicked the master behind the right knee, knocking it off balance. Alison dived to her right, rolling into the aisle before jumping up and taking a fighting stance.
As the adversaries faced off, the train pulled into Foggy Bottom Station. The passengers practically pulled the doors open to escape. When the doors finally did open, they ran out onto the platform and dashed to safety. Seconds later, the doors slid shut and the train began to pull out of the station.
“Well, bitch,” taunted Alison. “It’s just you and me.”
“That suits me fine.” Toni hissed and sprinted down the rail car.
Alison pushed off the deck with her left foot and spun her body around, slamming her right foot into Toni’s head in a tornado kick. The master careened to the side and stumbled between two rows of seats, smashing the window, momentarily stunned. Pulling a stake from her belt holster, Alison ran between the seats and raised the stake to inflict the fatal blow. Toni’s hand shot up and grabbed Alison by the wrist. With one thrust, Toni threw the hunter over three sets of seats. Alison landed on her right shoulder in the opening by the doors, sliding across the deck until her back slammed into the center pole.
Toni flew over the seats and landed on top of Alison’s chest, knocking the wind out of her. The master pushed herself down on Alison, pinning the hunter’s pelvis to the floor with her own, then ripped open Alison’s blouse to expose her neck. Bearing her fangs, Toni leaned over, pausing only inches from the Alison’s neck.
“Relax, hunter. In a few moments, you’ll be one of us.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” a voice shouted from behind Toni.
Toni looked up to see Drake standing at the opposite end of the car. She snarled. “You have nothing to say about it. She’s ours now.”
Toni bent over Alison, but Drake was quicker. Reaching under his leather jacket, Drake pulled the twin Glocks from their holster, aimed them down the car, and fired off a single round. The bullet caught Toni in the shoulder, knocking her off of Alison. Toni screamed in agony. Not from the open wound, but from the burning that seared its way into her skin. She looked down to see wisps of white smoke curling up from the jagged opening. Turning to Drake, she hissed defiantly and lunged.
Drake walked down the aisle toward Toni, squeezing each trigger alternately, pumping another seventeen rounds into the vampire. Each bullet tore out chunks of dead flesh. The holy water seeped through the wounds, becoming a liquid fire that flowed through her body. So much smoke poured from Toni that Drake thought she had ignited. He stopped firing only when the bolts to the two Glocks locked backed, signifying that he was out of ammunition.
With his thumbs, Drake pressed the grip buttons on each Glock that ejected the empty magazines, letting them fall to the deck with a metallic clatter. He holstered the Glock in his left hand and began to reach for a magazine for the second Glock when an animalistic howl echoed off the walls of the car. Toni crouched, as if about to attack. Eighteen bullet holes riddled her body. Dark putrefying blood dripped from the wounds, while wisps of smoke billowed around her. Her eyes seethed with hatred. Drake braced for an assault. Instead, the master spun around and dived for the rearmost door, shattering through the window and bounding down the darkened tunnel until she disappeared.
Drake loaded a fresh magazine into his Glock and pulled the slide back as he raced over to Alison. His partner moaned and tried to roll onto her side. Drake holstered his automatic and, taking Alison’s hand in his own, slowly raised her to her feet. As she tried to steady herself, Drake straightened her blouse and jacket.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“If you define okay as feeling like shit, then I’m fine.” Alison raised a hand to the back of her head and massaged her skull. She winced. “What the hell happened.”
“We were ambushed.” The train slowed as it approached the next station. “We’ve got to get out of here. Can you walk?”
“No problem.” Alison took a step and stumbled. Draping her left arm over his shoulder and wrapping her right around his waist, she allowed Drake to lead her to the exit.
Seconds later, the train pulled into Rosslyn Station. Thankfully there were only a few people waiting to board, none of them for their car. When the door slid open, the two headed for the exit and made their way to the street where Jim would pick them up.
7.
“HEY, BARBIE.”
Jessica ignored the taunt. She sat motionless on the cot that smelled of urine and sweat, propped up in the corner, her arms folded across her chest. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep, hoping the woman would go away.
“I said ‘Hey Barbie’.”
How the hell did she wind up in this mess, Jessica asked herself. She could understand the police arresting her for talking to Jason. But to throw her into the holding tank with the dregs of society seemed a bit extreme. Jessica shared a cell with two girls in their mid-twenties, both in tussled dresses and disheveled blonde hair, who sat at opposite ends of the tank glaring at one another, more than likely still brewing over a catfight they had gotten into the night before. A crack whore crouched in the corner, sobbing and moaning as her body shook from withdrawal. A hooker in a latex miniskirt and white see-through blouse, an outfit that did not compliment her one-hundred-and-eighty pound frame, stood by the bars, her gaze fixed on the squad room at the end of the corridor. A black woman in stiletto boots and worn jeans stood in front of Jessica, trying to provoke God knows what. And finally Jessica, dressed in a pink dress and matching heels, looking as out of place as Al Sharpton at a Klan rally.
“Bitch, I’m fucking talking to you.”
“Leave me alone.” Jessica tried to sound tough, an impression that was hard to convey when dressed like a doll.
“Leave you alone? Hell, I’m gonna fuck you up real good.”
Jessica sat still and kept her eyes closed, hoping the woman would go away. It did not work.
“Get up, bitch.” The black woman placed a stiletto boot on the edge of the cot and pushed. “You’re gonna get a piece of me whether you want it or not.”
Jessica braced herself. But then a second voice came to her rescue. “Leave Blondie alone. She’s not bothering anybody.”
Opening her eyes, Jessica saw the hooker standing between her an
d the black woman.
“She’s bothering me,” said the black woman.
“I’ll be bothering you if you don’t fuck off.” Since the hooker weighed almost twice as much as the black woman, she had the power to back up her threat. Both women stood their ground, staring each other down.
Finally, the black woman slumped her shoulders and backed away, keeping her eyes on the hooker. “You just keep that bitch away from me if she knows what’s good for her.”
The hooker waited until the black woman had crossed the holding tank, then sat down beside Jessica.
Jessica sighed with relief. “Thanks. I don’t know what her problem is.”
“Yvette? She’s been fucked up as long as I can remember. Been so long, I forget why. She’s chicken shit, though. Stand up to her, and she’ll back down.”
“Maybe.” Jessica forced a smile. “But I’m not the type to stand up to people.”
“I know that, Sugar.” The hooker’s hand clasped Jessica’s knee and slid up her leg, pushing the dress up along her thigh. “You take good care of me, and I’ll take good care of you.”
Jessica slammed her legs tightly together, but that only enticed the hooker. She leaned over, her lips moving closer to Jessica’s. Jessica tried to pull back, but already was wedged into the corner. She could smell cigarettes and stale sex on the hooker’s breath. Jessica felt the contents of her stomach climbing in her throat, and did not know whether she should vomit or scream.
Thankfully the cavalry arrived in the form of a policewoman who stepped up to the holding tank. “Which one of you is Jessica Reynolds?”
“That’s me,” yelled Jessica with way too much enthusiasm.
The policewoman opened the cell door, keeping one hand on her baton. “Come with me.”
“Where to?” Jessica could have cared less. Any place would be preferable to being stuck here. She started to stand, but the hooker grabbed her arm, squeezing tight and pulling her back onto the cot.
“Where are you going, Sugar?”
“With her.” Jessica tried not to let fear creep into her voice.
The hooker’s grip tightened and her voice became harsh. “But you owe me a little lovin’.”
“I don’t have all day,” the policewoman called out. “So move your little blonde ass.”
Jessica gave the hooker’s hand a gentle squeeze, feigning affection. “I’ll be back. And then I’ll thank you for saving me.”
Uncertain as to whether Jessica meant it, the hooker slowly released her grip. Jessica wiggled her arm free, gently patted the hooker’s knee, and stood up and walked as casually as she could across the tank. Once out of danger, Jessica waited for the policewoman to close and lock the cell, then followed her down the corridor.
“Am I being released?”
“Nope.”
“Am I being moved to another cell?”
“Nope.”
“Then where are we going?”
“You must be the reporter from The Washington Standard?”
“How did you know?” asked Jessica.
“Because you won’t stop asking questions.”
Taking the far-from-subtle hint, Jessica followed along silently. After a few minutes they reached their destination—Chief Roach’s office. Upon entering the office, Jessica’s heart sank. Roach sat behind his desk, the tight lips and furrowed brow a clear indication of his temper. She had seen Roach get that look at news conferences just prior to tearing a second asshole into some reporter who crossed the line of journalistic integrity or pushed Roach over the edge. Across from Roach sat her editor, Dan Philips. His grimace of disappointment upon seeing Jessica bothered her more than being locked up overnight in the holding tank. In the chair beside Philips sat a woman approximately thirty years old dressed in jeans and a sweater. She turned to face Jessica. The woman’s stern expression suddenly changed to fury. She sprang from her chair and pounced at Jessica. Jessica stood her ground but tensed her body, preparing for the anticipated blow. Fortunately, Philips had been quicker and placed himself between the two women.
The woman shook with anger. “So you’re the bitch who attacked my son.”
“What?” Jessica looked to Philips and Roach for an explanation.
“Mrs. Clark, please sit down.” Roach sounded forceful but sympathetic. “Miss Reynolds did not assault your son.”
“Harass, then. Or whatever the legal term is.” The woman shot Roach a withering glance that warned him not to play games with her, then turned her fury back onto Jessica. “I don’t give a shit what you call it. You talked to my son without my permission about that… that night.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to ask him…”
“Ask him what? Ask him what it was like to be attacked in a train station bathroom by a sexual predator? Ask him what it’s like to have his innocence taken from him by a pervert the police refuse to throw into jail? Ask him to relive that horrible night so you can get a fucking newspaper story?”
Mrs. Clark stepped forward and tried to slap Jessica, but Philips still stood between them. Roach slapped his desk top, drawing the others’ attention. “Mrs. Clark, that’s enough. You lay a hand on Miss Reynolds, and I’ll arrest you for assault.”
Mrs. Clark spun around to face Roach, and for a second Jessica thought she might lunge at him, too.
Roach sat forward and rested his arms on the desk. “I’m not bluffing. Now sit down.”
Mrs. Clark took a deep breath to control her rage, then nodded toward Jessica. “Why don’t you arrest her?”
“Because Miss Reynolds hasn’t committed a crime.”
“What?”
“Talking to a ten-year-old boy in public without getting the parents’ permission is not a crime.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I am.” Roach motioned for Mrs. Clark to take her seat. “What Miss Reynolds did was unethical and unprofessional, but not criminal. So I can’t hold her.”
“I don’t friggin’ believe this. So then the bitch gets away with it?”
“Miss Reynolds is not getting away with anything because she didn’t do anything wrong.” Roach paused, then added in a more conciliatory tone, “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Clark grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair with such force that that sleeves whipped around as if in a heavy wind.
“Do you want me to call someone to escort you out?”
“I can see myself out.” The woman began to leave, but paused in front of Jessica. “And you, you bitch. If I ever catch you anywhere near my son again, you’ll need the police to tear me off of you.”
With that, Mrs. Clark stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Philips moved back to his seat, leaving Jessica standing alone. An awkward silence passed before Jessica finally said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause this much trouble.”
“Bullshit. You knew damn well what you were doing, otherwise you would have gotten Mrs. Clark’s permission first.” Roach gazed over at Philips. “Did you know she was going to pull this stunt?”
“No. Though I wouldn’t have been able to stop her if I did.”
“Great.” Roach leaned back in his chair and massaged his temple. He looked over at Jessica. “I can’t file charges against you this time. But I’m warning you. I have more on my plate right now than I can handle, and don’t need to deal with any of your shit. If you wind up in here again, I’ll find a way to keep you here. Do you understand?”
Jessica nodded.
“Good. Now get the hell out of my office.”
Philips said nothing as they left the police station. Jessica refused to speak first. Yet the silence worried her, for she knew that the longer it lasted the greater would be the intensity of Philip’s anger. After fifteen minutes, she assumed Philips would probably rip her head off. Not until they were in the car heading back to the newspaper did he finally speak.
“What the hell were you thinking by trying to interview that kid?”
Jessica lon
ged to be back in the holding tank. “I just wanted to get a story.”
“A story? How about the one that’s going to appear on the front page of tomorrow’s Post? ‘Standard Reporter Arrested for Harassing Young Attack Victim’.”
“You’re always saying that bad publicity is better than no publicity.” Jessica regretted the comment as soon as she made it.
“You think this is a joke?”
“No,” Jessica answered apologetically.
“Every other paper in this city considers us no better than a supermarket tabloid. This isn’t going to help our reputation.”
“I know. But I’d reached a dead end on the story. Only two people have seen the attacker. Drake, who’s not talking. And Jason. I know what I did was…”
“Unethical?”
“Risky,” Jessica fired back, a little more confident. “Jason’s mother would never agree to grant an interview with her son, so I arranged it myself. I just misjudged how everyone would react. But I got a good interview.”
The journalist in Philips took over, and some of his anger subsided. “What did the kid say?”
“According to Jason, Drake Matthews didn’t attack him. Drake saved him.”
“That’s not what the police believe.”
“I know. Jason said no one believed him. The kid is smart and knows what he’s talking about. If Jason says Drake didn’t attack him, we should believe him.”
“Okay, okay. I trust your judgment. On some things. So who attacked the kid?”
“Jason never got a good look at him.” Jessica hated lying to Philips, but was not about to reveal that Jason believed he had been attacked by a vampire without first having proof. “His attacker wore a hood pulled down over his face and came at him from behind.”
The Vampire Hunters: Book I of The Vampire Hunters Trilogy Page 15
