On the Edge of Humanity (14 page)

As we got closer to the car, Tripp opened the door, and at the same time jerked up his head. Webb snapped his head to the left in the same direction. What were they looking at? I followed suit but didn’t see anything. Several trees obstructed my view, but given that I was now hanging out with vampires, I assumed their auditory and sensory perception were heightened. Then again, Webb had said not to believe everything I read about vampires. Little did he know I read barely a thing about them. My knowledge of vampires stemmed from listening to Darcy and other kids at school who were gaga over the undead creatures.

“We need to walk faster, Jo.” He pressed on his ear and said, “Make sure Sloan has the car in gear.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

I couldn’t figure out what they were worried about. A school security guard stood motionless at his post near the gate. It didn’t appear he heard anything.

“Where are they?” Webb asked.

I didn’t know if he was talking to me, but when I looked at Webb, his head was forward, eyes fixed ahead on Tripp. Then I shifted my glance slightly. A small plastic device was embedded in Webb’s ear.

So that’s how they talk to one another.

“Shit!” he said.

We were steps from the car when Webb pulled my backpack off his shoulder and threw it at Tripp. He barely caught it. I was about to protest when Webb palmed my head and guided me into the car.

“In! Now, Jo!” His voice was curt, words clipped.

Webb slid in next to me. Tripp slung my backpack onto Webb’s lap. He shut the backdoor then jumped into the front seat.

“Go! Go!” Tripp told Sloan.

Sloan hit the gas and the car jerked forward. I peered out the side window. The security guard shouted, but I couldn’t hear him. He probably didn’t like the way Sloan pulled out of the parking space. I knew I didn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if I got whiplash.

“What’re you guys so nervous about?” I asked.

I turned and peered out the back window. I didn’t see any car behind us.

“Charlie two, come in,” Tripp called.

“Charlie two, go,” a man’s voice blared through the car speaker.

“We got a bogie. We’ll head them off at Crest and Skylark. It’s deserted in that part of town. Send back up to meet us there,” Tripp rattled into a speaker located somewhere in the car.

“Alpha one, ETA?” said the voice on the other end of the speaker.

“Twelve,” Tripp returned.

“Ten-four. Team engaged and en route. Charlie two out.”

Sloan was speeding through the side streets of neighborhoods, barely pausing at stop signs. I closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed that I would at least make it alive to wherever they were taking me. I prayed that I’d see Sam again. I opened my eyes and peered at Webb. He sat there calm, looking forward, watching the road. His skin had a sun-kissed glow.
Odd. Aren’t vampires supposed to be pale?

“Is there a problem, Jo? You know it’s impolite to stare at people,” Webb said, never once looking at me.

How did he know I was staring at him? I dropped my gaze. I was beginning to think I should have stayed with Mr. Jackson. My stomach churned as if piranhas were swimming around. Between the road bumps and the quick jerks of the car, I was about to open a window and lose the Lucky Charms I had eaten for breakfast. The trees along the sides of the road were passing by like blips on a radar screen.

I grabbed my backpack off Webb’s lap. I unzipped the inner compartment and rummaged around in the bottom. I pulled out the package of Pop Tarts that I had taken from Mr. Jackson’s house this morning. I had to eat something to settle my nerves. I placed the package on the seat between Webb and me when my backpack fell to the floor. The book I borrowed from the funeral home,
The Science Behind Vampires
, fell out. Shoot! I hurriedly picked it up to place it into my backpack. Too late.

Webb grabbed it out of my hands.

Before he could say anything, I blurted out, “I’m doing research for my literature class. We’re studying the occult. I had to pick a topic.”
Geez, I sound like a babbling idiot.

“How appropriate then,” Webb replied as he handed the book back to me.

I pulled it out of his hand and shoved it into my backpack. I went to zip up the pack when the car came to an abrupt stop. The forward motion propelled me headfirst into the back of Sloan’s seat.

“Get down, Jo,” Webb shouted.

“I am down,” I snapped. My head was spinning. Did he not see that my head was planted into the back of the driver’s seat?

“Stay down, then.”

I picked up my head. Tripp was getting out of the car. The back door opened and closed. Webb had gotten out.

“Take the car around,” Tripp shouted.

“Charlie two, come in,” Sloan said. His voice was calm.

“Charlie two, go.”

“Where’s back up? We’re at Crest and Skylark.”

“Two minutes out. They had a problem at Fifth and Main.”

The speaker went silent. My heart raced and the adrenaline surged through me.
What the heck is going on around here?

As Sloan turned a corner, I gaped over my shoulder as Webb’s foot made contact with a man’s face. The guy fell to the ground, but within a second he jumped to his feet as if he weren’t even hurt. Webb’s opponent raised his elbow and swung, hitting the bottom of Webb’s chin. His head bounced backwards then forwards. The man’s other elbow lifted, then they disappeared from my view as the car rounded the side street.

Sloan parked the sedan.

“Jo, keep the doors locked and stay in the car,” he instructed. “I’ll be at the corner. You’ll be able to see me the entire time. Back up should be here shortly.”

The door shut and Sloan pressed the key fob. The locks clicked.

I peeked out the back window as he jogged to the corner with his hand at his side, holding on to the brown leather baton.

I scanned the area. The building across the street had several broken windows. Just beyond the building on the same side sat an empty lot surrounded by a crinkled chain-link fence.

I turned, looking for Sloan and my heart stopped beating—he was gone.

I snapped my head around, searching in all directions. Where did Sloan go? The street was deserted. The daylight dimmed. I lifted up for a better view. A set of dark cumulus clouds rolled in. The wind picked up accompanied by a sound like a can rolling along the pavement outside the car door.

A loud bang jarred my attention forward. Shards of glass from the windshield flew at me, splattering against my face. I threw my hands up to block the debris, but it was too late. I gently patted the bottom of my chin and searched the area around my face. I let out a deep breath, thankful that the glass didn’t stick into my other wound that was compliments of Cliff. But the area around my mouth wasn’t so lucky.

I grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door wouldn’t open. I pushed the automatic lock button—nothing happened. I pulled the handle again—no luck.
Shit! Shit! Shit!

Warm fluid trickled down from my upper lip on the brink of slipping into my mouth. The aroma from the blood caused hunger to stir within me. I patted my mouth with my fingers, then stared at the burgundy stain. I inhaled, taking in the sweet fragrance. I was about to taste my candied blood when a light reflected off the rearview mirror. I jerked up my head and caught an image of a girl with red dots peppering her chin, as if she had just broken out with chickenpox.
Is that me? It can’t be.
The person staring back didn’t have silver eyes, didn’t even have the blue-green eyes Ben had described. The face in the mirror now had black eyes with a ring of fire circling the outer edges.

I was just moving closer to the mirror when the side window shattered. I threw my arms over my head, then the door opened. A large hand reached in and grabbed me. I squirmed, kicking my way out of the car. He wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me.

I craned my neck trying to steal a look at my attacker. The man holding me wore a blue bandana over his head. I screamed.

“Be still,” he said.

“It’s you!” I shouted. “You were at the hospital. What did you do to my brother?” I asked, wriggling.

“I said be still!”

I clutched his hand with both of mine and the nail of my pinky finger got caught in a ring. I looked down. The gold ring he wore was engraved with an insignia.

I gasped.

The symbol matched the tattoo that Neil had on his neck. Before I could process this, my attacker shook me.

I kicked and wiggled, trying to break free.

“Stop moving,” he growled.

“No. What did you do with my brother?”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a needle. He tried to uncap it with the hand that had me in a vice grip. I reached for the needle, only he jerked it out of my way. The syringe was two inches in length and looked like something a veterinarian would use on a horse.

“Oh no. You’re not sticking me with that,” I shouted.

“Stop your moving, will you?” he said. He adjusted his grip on my body, squeezing my waist tighter.

“You’re hurting me!” I kicked and lifted my arms behind me, ready to scratch his face, but I couldn’t turn my body well enough to do any damage.

“Let her go, Jonah,” a familiar voice called out.

I snapped my head round. Webb stood ten feet in front of us. He placed his hand on the leather handle strapped to his belt. It looked like the same device that Tripp and Sloan wore on their belts, only Webb’s contraption was red.

He pulled it off his belt and a click echoed around us. The thin baton device snapped into place, a blade emerging from its housing, the tip angled with a flat edge. At the base of the blade, a piece of metal extended out on each side of the handle perpendicular to it. Another click sounded and, as if in slow motion, the flat edge knife extended into a three-foot sword. It whistled as metal slid across metal, snapping the blades into place. Webb held onto to the grip with two hands and pointed it into the air. The double-edged blade glistened, projecting a blue hue around the edges.

My mouth gaped open as the sword came to life. My heart pounded against my chest. I knew Webb wasn’t going to hurt me, but the thug who held me was holding a horse needle ready to stab me. Jonah, or whoever he was, wrestled with something, but I couldn’t see what. He grunted a few times.

Webb stood still.
What the heck is he waiting for? This goon to stab me?
Then the man’s grip loosened a bit. I tilted my head to see what he was doing. As I did, he blew something out of his mouth. The plastic tip that covered the needle rolled off the pavement into the street.

Webb took one step forward.

“Don’t do it, London,” Jonah ordered. “Or I’ll stick her with this. You know what’ll happen.”

“Happen?” I asked. The adrenaline was flowing freely through me. My pulse quickened. A spark fired and I bristled.

Fear and rage propelled me forward. I couldn’t wait for Webb to make his move. This goon was going to use me as a pincushion. I twisted, kicked and pulled on the hand that was wrapped around me.

Jonah squeezed tighter, cutting off the circulation in my stomach.

I stopped moving and looked at Webb. I tried to speak but couldn’t.

Webb stalked slowly toward us as Jonah walked backwards.

I kept my eyes fixed on Webb. His eyes were no longer blue but had turned pitch black. His fangs had descended. I was mesmerized. I didn’t realize until now how real this vampire thing was. He looked fearless with the sword in his hands, fangs exposed.

He dropped his left hand from the grip of the sword, raised it parallel to the ground then lowered it. His lips were moving but the words were inaudible.

I furrowed my brows, shook my head.

He did his hand movement again, this time in quick succession.

“Down, now!” he shouted.

I bent over, my face staring at Jonah’s hand. He squeezed me tighter. I couldn’t breathe. As my head bobbed, my chin hit his hand. A piece of glass pushed in deeper.

I stifled a scream.

Without thinking, I bit down on his hand as hard as I could.

“You little witch!” Jonah barked as he released his grip.

I fell to the pavement, rolled off into the thin layer of grass that edged the sidewalk and scurried to my feet.

I stepped back against a tree, breathing hard as Webb glided toward Jonah. He had both hands on the grip of his sword again, with the blade angled upward, ready to strike.

Jonah threw the needle down then removed a dagger from a side pocket of his cargo pants. He gripped it so that the tip of the blade and his forearm was facing Webb.

I stared at the two. How was this going to end? Just as Webb raised his sword, his opponent fell to the ground.

I snapped my head to the left. The culprit had a baseball bat in his hands. I sucked in a deep breath. It couldn’t be.

My gaze shifted between the guy with the baseball bat and Jonah who was already back on his feet, his dagger still in his hands.

Then Webb swung his sword downward at Jonah, missing him by an inch as Jonah lunged for Ben.

I screamed and ran toward Ben. I was inches from him when Webb grabbed me.

“No. Get back,” he snapped.

“Jonah, it’s our fight, not his,” Webb said as he flicked his head toward Ben.

Jonah whirled around with his fangs bared. My head spun. Why were vampires chasing Sam and me? What did they want with us? Oh my God. Did Jonah use his fangs on Officer Bradley? Was that why he was in a coma?

Webb swung his sword up then down. The blade whistled as it sliced through the air. Jonah raised his right leg in some type of karate kick and knocked the sword out of Webb’s hands. It was Jonah and his dagger against Webb who was now weaponless.

I ran toward Ben again as the two vampires fought, their karate moves sending the brawl into the middle of the street.

“You okay?” I asked.

He stood motionless and wide-eyed.

I slapped his face. “Ben, snap out of it.”

He looked down at me absently, before focusing again on the two vampires in the street.

A black jeep rounded the corner then skidded to a halt. A man and a woman jumped out. Both wore the same style uniforms as Webb, so I assumed they were both Jupiter Sentinels. Tripp and Sloan emerged from behind the jeep.

The woman pulled a gun from its holster. The man with her had a crossbow in his hands. Tripp and Sloan carried swords, the blades extended and ready for battle.

The four Sentinels surrounded Webb and Jonah.

“You don’t have a chance,” Webb said as he lunged at Jonah.

“Olivia, now,” Tripp called out.

Was she going to shoot a vampire? I didn’t think bullets killed vampires.

She pulled the trigger. Jonah dropped to his knees, his body jerking on the way down. It wasn’t a gun, it was a taser. The metal strings stuck to the large vampire as smoke erupted from his body. When Jonah was down, Sloan reached out with gloved hands, grabbed Jonah’s arms, twisted them behind his back, and placed two-inch metal shackles around his wrists. As he squeezed them together, a small amount of smoke erupted from underneath. Were his wrists on fire? I guessed they would need something sturdier and more lethal than ordinary handcuffs to hold a vampire.