of strength, to balance the dozen or so vampires Arturo displayed on his side. Sometimes, he'd bring me, when he needed a pretty young thing at his side to boost his own ego. An alpha could increase his standing by showing off how many helpless cubs he could protect. That was what I'd been to him—a helpless child. I'd hated those outings. I'd hated being put out for show.
One of those times, I'd met Rick. I'd been young— both agewise and wolfwise. I'd only been a werewolf for a year. Rick had been standing watch at the basement door, and I'd sneaked out when Carl wasn't paying attention. I couldn't leave without Carl entirely, so I stuck around, sitting on the concrete steps, and chatted with Rick. He was the first vampire who ever deigned to speak to me at all. He could tell I was new to it all, and he was kind to me. After that, the whole place had seemed a little more real. More believable. Vampires became a little less scary.
If Arturo had returned from the hospital before us, I'd expect to find him in that room, surrounded by his minions. I had no idea where Rick might be. Almost, I expected him to still be standing guard at the door at the bottom of the steps. I'd sit down again and have a nice chat. He'd tell stories about Denver during the gold rush: The displacement in time, the sense of dйjа vu, was visceral.
Hardin led the way down the stairs. I followed, continually looking over my shoulder.
At the base of the stairs, the metal door stood open.
Behind us, in the alley we'd just left, a man screamed.
Then another voice: 'Officer down!'
Two shots fired. Hardin charged back up the stairs. I charged after her. I didn't even get a chance to look through the door to see what might follow us.
At the top of the stairs, Hardin shouted, 'Freeze! Freeze right there!' Then, 'Dammit!'
She'd pressed herself to the wall and looked out at the alley. I crouched beside her, using the stairwell for shelter.
One of the two cops—I recognized Sawyer—turned back and forth, as if searching for quarry that was no longer visible. He held a gun in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. His arms were trembling. Nearby, the other cop lay still, facedown on the ground. I didn't see any blood on him, no wounds. That didn't mean anything. I looked up, back and forth, all around. Vampires could fall on us from above.
'Sawyer, where'd he go?'
'I don't know, he just…just disappeared. Vanished.'
I closed my eyes and took a deep, steady breath. The air was still tonight, all the summer heat leached away leaving a calm, damp chill. Good. Without a breeze, the assailant couldn't stay downwind.
Vampires smelled dead, but only partly. They were dead without the decay, the rot. They lacked heartbeats; they were cold. Any blood and warmth they had was stolen from a living body. They smelled out of place in the world, like they'd stepped out of it somehow.
I searched for that now, tasting the air, letting that little bit of the Wolf into my conscious mind so I could use those senses. I only needed a location, a direction where I could point Hardin and Sawyer.
I smelled vampires everywhere.
My heart racing, I pushed myself against the side of the concrete stairwell. Until something moved, until we spotted one of them, we couldn't do anything. We'd be wasting what pathetic ammunition we brought by shooting at shadows. Firing blasts of holy water at nothing.
Sawyer knelt by his partner and touched his neck. He had to set down one of his weapons to do it, and to my dismay he set down the spray bottle. Not that I had faith in the spray bottles, notwithstanding the holy water in them. But the gun probably wouldn't do any good.
'He's alive,' Sawyer called to us. 'Just knocked out, I think.'
'Can vampires do that?' Hardin whispered to me. 'Just knock someone out?'
I didn't answer because I saw a flicker of something dodging from one shadow to the next. 'Sawyer, behind you!'
He whirled, saw the figure who had appeared instantly and silently behind him. The assailant, a pale man dressed simply in dark slacks and a shirt, raised his arm in preparation of delivering a blow. Sawyer reacted instinctively, driven by panic, bringing his gun to bear and firing. Trigger-happy bugger, wasn't he?
Caught in the chest by the shot, the vampire staggered back a step. But he didn't fall. I didn't smell blood. He didn't react again, except to square his shoulders and focus his gaze on Sawyer. He closed the distance between them in a second. He was a flash of movement.
'Shit,' Sawyer murmured as the vampire drew back his fist and finished the interrupted strike. He backhanded Sawyer with little effort. The vampire barely moved. I wouldn't have guessed the force of it would be enough to bruise him, but Sawyer left the ground entirely and crunched on the asphalt a few feet away.
After a heart-wrenching moment, Sawyer moved. Not quickly, but he moved. He started to push himself up with his arms, but only managed to roll himself onto his back. He lay there, gasping.
'You are under arrest!' Hardin screamed at the vampire. She aimed her gun at him, no matter how little good it would do.
'Hardin, use your crossbow,' I muttered. In response, she fumbled between the weapons. I approached the vampire cautiously, cross raised, like I could coax him away from the fallen man.
The vampire looked at us and smiled. Then, he ignored us and continued after Sawyer.
Hardin's belt radio cackled to life, but the voice speaking through it was muffled. It sounded like one of the other cops who'd come with Hardin. Shots fired at the front of the building. She muttered an expletive, but didn't otherwise respond. We couldn't do anything about it right now.
Two more vampires ran at us from the side of the building. Both youngish, one dark-haired, one tall and blond. With a gasp and an unhealthy dose of fatalism, I cut to intercept them, holding the cross like a shield.
Sawyer was moving, trying to sit up. He didn't see the threat behind him. Hardin fired her crossbow. The vampire flinched, brushing at his arm. The bolt fell; it hadn't stuck.
Hardin cursed and grabbed at her belt for the pouch that held more bolts.
I put myself between the newcomers and Hardin, misting the air around me with holy water. That slowed them. It kept them from doing that thing where they moved too quickly to track. But it wouldn't last. I fumbled for the stakes Ben had stashed in the backpack.
When the blond one swatted at me, I let loose another volley from the spray bottle. Water squirted out and caught his hand. He rubbed it absently, not at all incapacitated. It might as well have been a swarm of gnats. Then he backhanded me out of the way. I didn't even see him coming. I was sure I'd been out of range. I was standing, then the next moment I was facedown on the asphalt, spitting out grit. The stakes spilled out of the backpack.
In front of me, the first vampire stepped on Sawyer's chest, shoving him to the ground, then twisted his head. It was an inhuman move, requiring inhuman strength. And inhuman sensibilities. I heard the crack. Saw Sawyer's head flop back down, unsupported. Heard the beat of his heart go out. The vampire dropped Sawyer to the pavement.
'No! ' Hardin screamed, then fired her crossbow again. And again. A bolt struck the vampire's shoulder, another his thigh.
She didn't see the vampire standing behind her.
The blond one was standing over me.
I grabbed a stake and slammed it into his foot. Sharpened hardwood, it went right through that shiny leather shoe. Snarling, he pulled his foot away and kicked, but I had a little superhuman speed of my own, and I was ready for him. I rolled, another stake in hand. Angry now, he rushed me. I let him. I ducked. Bracing my arms, I held the stake up and prayed.
I felt his chest give out on top of me. Then, his weight shoved me to the ground, pinning me. He was a newer vampire—mere decades old. He didn't turn to ash, a hundred years of decomposition catching up to him. When I shoved him away and looked, he was desiccated—gray flesh, sunken cheeks, hollow body. His clothes hung on him in tatters, and the stake remained poking out between ribs. His clouded eyes stared at me.
Swallowing back a scream, I looked away.
The second vampire had closed Hardin in an embrace from behind and touched her neck with his lips. A wicked smile on his lips, the first one launched himself into a run toward her. Even restrained, she still held the crossbow and managed to get one more shot off. This one landed true and buried itself in his chest, in his heart.
He halted sharply and touched his shirt, picking at it, like he was trying to pull it out. Snarling, he looked at Hardin, stepped forward like he might attack. Then he started disintegrating, before he even fell over. Bit by bit, he turned to the ash of the grave. He fell to his knees, then his knees weren't there anymore. He never took his rabid gaze off Hardin, until he was lying flat on the pavement, and his face itself disappeared into dust. Nothing left but ash.
Giving a shout, Hardin struggled, trying to twist out of the second vampire's grip, but his hold was too strong. Blood trickled from his mouth, down her neck.
I moved as fast as I could, which turned out to be pretty fast, and grabbed two stakes, just to be sure. Putting all my speed behind the blow, I crunched both stakes into his back.
He dropped Hardin, who stumbled away. Arcing his back, he fell to his knees. Didn't make a sound. Like the blond one, he was new. He didn't turn to ash, instead becoming a corpse before our eyes. Flesh and clothing dissolved, hanging on bleached bones. He smelled like mold.
'Jesus Christ!' Hardin pressed a hand to her neck and stared at her attacker. 'Am I— Oh, God, am I going to turn into one of those?' She looked at the blood on her hands.
'No,' I said, panting. 'They have to drain you. If they only take a little you're okay.'
She didn't look okay. Panic burned in her eyes and she was almost hyperventilating.
'Detective,' I said, catching her attention. 'Breathe.'
She nodded quickly and took a deep breath. That slowed her down. She found a handkerchief in a pocket and held it to the wound on her neck.
I knew, but I had to do it anyway. I touched Sawyer's neck, feeling for a pulse that wasn't there. His neck was twisted at a strange angle, and his eyes were open, staring. He didn't deserve this.
'Sawyer?' Hardin called. I shook my head.
I looked for the others I knew must be out there. And there she was: a pale, svelte woman at the top of the stairs, blocking our way down. She had white hair and an icy expression.
'Stella,' I murmured. 'What's the deal? Where's Rick? Where's Ben? They're supposed to be here.'
'None of you are
'Detective?' I murmured.
'Out of ammo,' she said as she went to retrieve the bolts she'd already fired.
Great. I'd dropped the cross to do the stake thing. I didn't think I could stake her by surprise—she was ready for me. I quickly retrieved what I could, shoving everything back in the pack. The spray bottle still had some holy water in it.
I met Stella face-to-face. Or as face-to-face as possible, considering how tall she was.
'Just a hint,' I said, letting my mouth do what it did best—run away with me. 'Did you get Rick? At least tell me whether or not you killed him. I'm sure you'd love to tell me how completely we screwed up.' But she didn't tell me that we screwed up. She didn't tell me where Rick was. Maybe because she didn't know.
I hadn't noticed any other evidence of dead vampires apart from what we'd just made. I was willing to hope Arturo's gang hadn't killed Rick before he got inside. He'd evaded them. This wasn't over. I let her come closer. Let her think she didn't have to work for this one.
'Come on, you can tell me. I'll beg for it, will that make you happy? What's going on? Is Arturo here? Is Rick?' And Ben, where was Ben, goddammit?
'Oh, you haven't completely screwed up,' she said, wearing a pained smile. 'You're in the process of completely screwing up.'
