DarkWalker (18 page)

He reached it, bent closer (always aiming the gun at its head, just in case), and plunged the stake into its back.

The thing shrieked. It shot up the side of the wall, crashed into the ceiling and fell back to the floor. It was hideous, its face deformed, eyes bulging, teeth sharp and crooked. Though black ooze spilled from its back, it reached for Nick.

He kicked the beast in the ribs and sent it back into the wall, driving the edge of the stake out through its chest.

“Knife,” Nick said, turning to Lisa.

She wasn’t there.

2.

Lisa never followed Nick into the room. She had no grandiose ideas of checking out the other room on her own. Fit as she was, she had never trained with a knife. She didn’t know how she’d react if she stabbed something and its blood spilled over her—warm or cold.

So she watched Nick approach the vampire and, holding her breath, gripped the knife. When he staked it, the creature leapt, smashing the ceiling, knocking dust and ash from it. It squealed—and so, too, did something in the room behind Lisa.

There’d been two rooms at the end of the hall. Lisa slid into the hall, a step back from the two doorways.

“Knife,” Nick said. Calmly. Quietly. He hadn’t heard the other creature.

It shot through the hall, running straight across from the one room to the other, either ignoring or unaware of Lisa shaking in the hallway. It screeched, a vicious, ear-piercing sound of fury. This was female, naked and sickly white, hairless like the other, arms swinging wildly.

Lisa followed it in, hoping there wasn’t a third behind it. It leapt at Nick. He sidestepped, knocked it forward, but lost his gun in the same motion. The creature’s claws slashed down, maybe drawing blood. It was too dark for Lisa to be sure.

The thing spun quickly, attacking with both claws, face contorted with rage, spitting and hissing. Nick fell back, catching its hands, kicking with one leg as he rolled onto his back. He threw the creature over him; it crashed into the wall at Lisa’s right.

She swung the stake and knife together, burying both in the vampire’s chest and gut. It squealed, wriggled, lashed out. It smacked Lisa, throwing her into the doorjamb.

Then Nick rushed forward. He yanked the knife free and left the stake in the howling beast. The hunter slashed its throat. Thick fluid, black in the dark, spit out of its neck. Nick drove the knife deeper, severing the head.

The creature’s body slumped. But before Nick could turn, the first vampire, stake still protruding from its chest, grabbed him in a bear hug and rolled backwards to the floor. Nick cried out in pain; the beast screamed. They rolled toward the window.

Lisa scrambled forward, finding Nick’s fallen pistol. She’d never shot a gun in her life. It was heavy in her hands, both hot and cold.

Nick was on top, but on his back. The creature squeezed, and its mouth went for his neck. Nick wrenched himself forward, avoiding teeth, and broke its grip long enough to roll away.

Lisa fired, point blank, into the vampire’s face. It exploded in a spray of bone and brain. Teeth scattered on the floor.

The sound was deafening. The force of the gun threw Lisa’s hand up and back; she was surprised to have hit it, even from less than a yard away. The creature slumped, arms flailing in the spot its head had occupied, and then dropped.

For a moment, the room was still. Both vampires were dead, or re-dead. Lisa lowered the pistol. Its acrid smell filled the room. Her arm burned, her face stung, her back ached.

Lisa hesitated. She’d never killed anything, never fought for her life before—or someone else’s life. She didn’t enjoy it, no, but she felt just a little more powerful. She
could
do it. If she had to. Like she’d done just now.

However, these vampires were nothing like the one that had snatched her lover. They were no closer to finding Jack Harlow.

Nick managed to get to his hands and knees; Lisa helped him the rest of the way up. He swayed, relying on her for support, and staggered toward the fallen vampires.

“Not done,” he said.

He withdrew a heavy duty lighter from an interior pocket in his jacket, and shrugged free of Lisa’s hold. He moved slowly, wincing as he knelt next to the nearest vampire. He leaned forward, ignited the lighter, and lowered the flame to the pulpy remains of its head.

Fire flashed through its body, brightening the room. Thick smoke rose, but briefly; the fire was out as soon as it started. The new burnt odor was barely noticeable over the old.

In the same manner, Nick burned the second vampire.

Lisa closed her eyes. The more she saw, the less afraid she was of seeing the demon again on her eyelid screen. The hellish realm remained strong, but she knew now she wouldn’t slip helplessly to it every time she rested—even if she had no coffee to ground her.

She shook all over. Anxiety, fear, exhilaration, it was hard to pinpoint why.

“That,” Nick said, grinning, “was fun.”

“You’re a mess,” she told him.

“I’m hiding it well.”

“This was the wrong place.” Lisa said.

He didn’t answer. She opened her eyes again, glanced around the room, wishing they’d been able to end it here and now. Hadn’t that been tough enough, without having to do it again when they found Jack? How many such creatures would they have to fight their way through to get to him? This wasn’t a video game, not a movie. There were no levels, each harder than the last, until they reached the ultimate bad guy (the
demon
?). Defeating these two had brought them no closer to their goal.

Nick removed his shirt, revealing muscles she hadn’t quite expected, and tried to look over his shoulder and down his back. “I was hit,” he said.

Lisa stepped closer, looking at the round wound half way down his back.

“Is it a scratch?” he asked. “Bite?”

“Neither, I don’t think,” Lisa said.

Nick sighed, relieved, and pulled his shirt back on. “Stabbed?”

“Maybe,” Lisa said. “I’m not an expert.”

“I think it got me with my own stake. It was sticking out of its chest when it grabbed me. I’m lucky.”

“Lucky?” Lisa asked.

“If it had been a bite, you would have to kill me. A scratch, I might be okay, but maybe not.” Nick paused. “They didn’t get you, did they?”

“She slapped me.”

“Break the skin?” Nick asked.

“No.”

“Good.”

After a moment’s silence, Lisa asked, “Is it always like this?”

Nick didn’t answer. Instead, he retrieved the two stakes from the ground and returned them to his jacket. Then he held out his hand for the gun.

Lisa gave it to him. Her arm felt enormously lighter, but empty and weak.

“Still want to search?” Nick asked.

Lisa glared. “Damn right, I do.”

“Good.” Nick smiled, shoving the gun under his belt. “This may be a long day.”

3.

Nick Hunter hurt.

He wouldn’t let Lisa know quite how much, but the stake had been devastating. He was lucky it hadn’t done any real damage. Instead, it left a pain that stretched half a foot in every direction—across his skin, up his spine, and into his gut. Every step hurt.

Under normal circumstances, with a wound like this, he’d find a motel room, sleep for a day, and eat painkillers for breakfast. But he was on a mission now. He didn’t quite understand how he’d gotten drawn into it, but no longer cared. He liked having a goal more specific than
kill another beast
. It made him feel useful. Necessary. Less like an expendable anonymous shadow looking for a quick hit. He missed having a partner.

He liked Lisa. Liked the way she worked. She was a hunter, regardless of what she’d been before. He’d have to train her, teach her, show her things. They’d have to trust each other intimately if they planned to make a habit of this. Lives were at stake—more than just their own. She was fit, and fearless, and she’d seen things Nick had never seen. He wouldn’t mind Lisa as a partner.

One step at a time, Nick walked, staggered, or swayed. The pain lessened. He concentrated, instead, on the destination. The quest. Neither hope nor fear had been part of his life, not since Diane died; but here and now, he felt a little of both.

After the first structure, they checked the other two. Both were just as burned out, torn apart inside and out, but there were no other beasts.

The charred smell lingered in his nostrils. He had to get rid of it. He also had to wash. The blood of a vampire was often black but sometimes like human blood, and he’d been drenched with too much to avoid unwanted attention.

Lisa waited outside while he broke into the bathroom on the side of a gas station. The station itself was closed down and abandoned, its windows boarded and signs smashed. Ready, perhaps, for future renovation, no one had touched it for months. Two restrooms were around the side. He hoped water still ran through the pipes, but would have been satisfied with enough paper towels or toilet tissue to wipe off most of the gunk.

Water trickled, warm, out of the faucet. No pressure, but he cupped his hands underneath and cleared his face. After wringing out his shirt, he examined his wound in the mirror.

It didn’t look as bad as it felt, barely more than a pinhole. He washed it and tested its depth. His whole fingernail went in, sending ripples of pain as far as the nape of his neck. Okay, so it was worse than it looked—deeper, anyhow. Damned good stakes.

He rinsed himself as best he could, drying with crumpled newspaper. He moved slowly, giving his pain some time to subside. Though not enough to stop him, it would slow him down. That could be deadly.

He pushed out of the bathroom. “Your turn.”

Lisa screwed her face, apparently dreading the thought, but went inside anyway.

They were not far from downtown, maybe five blocks west, and Nick easily saw the tops of those bank buildings. There were seven, maybe ten of them. Not many, but they provided plenty of places for beasts to hide.

Wandering on this part of town would attract attention. The few people on the streets—it was still early—stared as if he did not belong. He didn’t. He didn’t feel endangered, but conspicuous.

4.

The rain started as a trickle.

Lightning cracked the sky. The rain intensified, even as Lisa Sparrow emerged from the restroom on the side of the abandoned gas station. Thunder crashed.

1.

First, he heard thunder
. It rattled his bones, echoed.

Slowly, Jack Harlow opened his eyes. His throat was sore, his head groggy, his vision blurry. He rubbed his neck, trying to figure out what he was looking at. The city stretched below him—far below. He was at the edge of a window, in no danger of falling out, sitting on a rather comfortable leather chair. He was in an office.

He turned, slowly, spinning in the chair so he could see the rest of the room. Besides the window and the chair, there was only a single, heavy wood desk. A few electrical sockets lined the walls. Fluorescent bulbs hung, dark, in the ceiling. All light came from outside, and didn’t amount to much.

The carpet was flat and blue, the walls gray, the chair black, and the door closed. He didn’t know where he was, exactly, and couldn’t even be sure he wasn’t in a different city. He didn’t know
Orlando
that well; but he did see lakes, trees, other buildings, and even houses through the window, which seemed right.

He was neither bound nor dead, surprisingly. The last thing he remembered was a kiss . . . no, a bite . . . a lick? A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. He didn’t want to stand, but didn’t like the idea of waiting.

Outside, it was daytime—stormy, but after sunrise. He’d survived the night. The vampire might be asleep somewhere. She’d neither killed nor turned him.

Rain splattered the window. He was thirsty. Before Jack could gather the strength to stand, the office door opened. The hall behind was dark, as well. The vampire stepped out of those shadows carrying a Styrofoam cup.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said.

“I know you,” Jack said, squinting, still not able to see clearly. Petite, with short black hair, Asian eyes and skin. He’d seen her the other night in the club.

“We’ve met, yes,” she said. “I’m
Jia
Li.” She put the cup, water, on the desk, and then jumped up there herself. She bent her knees so she didn’t tower over him, but looked down nonetheless.

She was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. The eyes cinched it: so light a brown they were almost amber, with yellow eye shadow making a thin mask that stretched to both sides and accentuated the already narrow, almond shape. She smiled, her lips a shade darker than her skin. She showed a lot of skin, dressed in form-fitting black and an extremely short skirt. She was thin, subtly curved, and enticing. Of course, she was a vampire, a particular type; she was designed to seduce every sense.