probably meant I was flirting with an aneurism. But while I still had my faculties I figured JESUS SAVES was a Sensitive, like me. He also must've been present at a staking to know vampires do leave trace amounts of dust and ash when they're vanquished, but the biggest part of them goes up in smoke.
We were down on numbers and weaponry. Never a good place to be, even when you're a pro. I admit, dread had sunk its claws into the back of my neck, and it wasn't helping me think any clearer. Then Vayl met my eyes— and winked. Suddenly I could breathe again. Because in that moment I knew no two-bit operation run by a bunch of yahoos was going to beat us. Not tonight. Not ever.
As soon as my mind cleared, I noticed two things. An undeniable affection for my partner whose survival meant a lot more to me than mere job satisfaction. And the pseudo-identity of the organization fronting this one-night event.
'Hey Vayl,' I jerked my thumb at Graybeard, 'this one's into cleanliness and that one,' I nodded at JESUS SAVES, 'is into godliness. What's that make you think of?'
'God's Arm.' Vayl's instant reply pleased our captors. It's always nice to have your ultra-fanatical religious affiliation recognized. It's also nice when someone guesses who you've dressed up as on Halloween. I raised my eyebrows at Vayl and slid my eyes toward Graybeard's neck. He understood immediately. All members of God's Arm have a cross tattooed on their necks as a rite of initiation. These necks were clean.
'Let's walk,' said Graybeard, gesturing toward a grove of trees in the distance with the .357 Magnum he'd pulled from his front pocket. Vayl's slight nod encouraged me to cooperate, for now. So I walked, my sandals protecting me so poorly from the rocks and weeds I considered kicking them off. Only the possibility of stepping on shards of glass or metal deterred me. It had gotten colder too, and my party dress wasn't providing much protection against the wind that kept brushing against me in an endless, winter-borne tide. The full moon lit up my goosebumps and the pseudo-path ahead of me. But I squeezed my contacts into night vision anyway, preparing for a trek through the deeper brush ahead.
Nobody talked during the walk, which only took us about 200 yards off the highway but seemed endless. Something about the march seemed eerily familiar to me. It was like the entire store of knowledge I'd built around criminals and their victims had coughed up the ghosts of those who'd walked ahead of their murderers, sometimes cold, sometimes stumbling, leaving glowing footprints for me to follow. Only they were angry that I'd consented to follow that trail. 'Fight!' they whispered, their wild, haunted memories sharpening their voices. 'Fight now. Fight hard. Die, if necessary, only die fighting!'
I sucked in my breath and screamed, 'Oh, God! Something bit me!' I grabbed my right ankle, hopping around as much as Graybeard's grip allowed.
'What do you mean?' he demanded, looking from my pain-contorted face to my ankle and back again.
'A snake,' I gasped. 'Look, there it is!'
I pointed at the feet of the Suit, who immediately backed up and looked down.
'It's too cold for snakes,' Graybeard was saying, but too late. Vayl had seen his opening. He shot his scabbard at the Suit, knocking him sideways. The bolt from his crossbow flew off into the bushes. Vayl's blade flashed and the Suit dropped, holding his left arm and groaning as blood spurted from it in steady bursts. I didn't wait to see how Vayl dealt with JESUS SAVES and Praying Hands. The confusion that had delayed Graybeard's reaction was clearing. In moments he'd be putting his Magnum into action.
I attacked. My first move, a knife-hand to the elbow, made him drop the gun. He blocked the fist I aimed at his groin, blocked my next two moves as well. He'd been trained, and well. But he was still slower and older than me, and I made it count.
The kick I connected to the side of his head put him off balance. He countered with a punch that would've broken my ribs if he hadn't been backing up. Even so, I'd be feeling that blow for a week. I took him down with a hook kick to the back of his knee. Two more hard kicks to the temple did the trick. He fell to his side and stayed there, quietly bleeding into the brush. I grabbed his gun and stood back. A bullet to the brain would've been easy and I was sorely tempted.
The boss had done pretty well for himself. Apparently JESUS SAVES and Praying Hands had tried to run for it, because they stood about 50 yards away, gazing at Vayl like a couple of trapped rats as he circled them, his sword hovering inches from the crosses they brandished like pop guns. I could feel his power build as he circled them. JESUS SAVES could too, and neither his shaking arm nor his bladder seemed to be able to hold up against it. Vayl spoke a single word and Praying Hands crumpled to the ground.
JESUS SAVES, being a Sensitive, just stood there shaking. Like me, he was much less susceptible to Vayl's hypnotic suggestions. Fear had a bigger influence, however. When Vayl made a move toward him he screamed like a little girl and ran off into the trees. When they found him in the morning I suspected he'd be gibbering like a Blair Witch escapee.
The Suit moaned weakly. I went to check on him. He'd squirmed out of his belt and was trying to cinch it tight enough over his bicep to stop the fountain that had drenched his shoulder, sleeve and half his face. 'Here,' I said, 'let me help you with that.' I jerked the belt tight, and he yelped in pain. The bleeding slowed to a trickle. 'You want to watch who you ambush next time,' I told him. 'There's a lot worse monsters than vampires wandering the world.'
'I know,' he whispered, looking straight into my eyes as if he could see my secret life spread before him, a horrific map of violence and destruction justified—
Vayl came closer, leaned over Graybeard and whispered in his ear.
'You've only got a few seconds left,' I told the Suit. 'Soon he'll be crouching over you, speaking in your ear, scrambling your brain. Is there anything you want to tell me before your mind goes as soft as frozen yogurt?' Okay, I was exaggerating. Most likely Vayl was suggesting to Graybeard, as he had to Praying Hands, that if he ever tried to kill anyone again, even a vampire, his heart would burst. Maybe the Suit sensed that.
'No,' he answered.
'Vayl likes to mess with people's minds,' I told him. 'Literally. He might go easy on you, leave the memories of your wife and kids, your childhood. If you tell him who sent you.'
The Suit was pale, clammy, barely conscious. Which is maybe why he slipped. 'He'd kill us,' he whispered. His eyes closed. A tear trickled down one cheek. Would you believe I felt sorry for him?
