by Cat Adams
Thinking about John made me falter a little. We weren’t together anymore, and it had ended badly, but I didn’t want to think about a world without him in it. The same was true for Bruno and Matty. Hell, I’d even miss Isabella … but I was less worried about her than the others. I knew that both her sons would protect her with their lives.
I needed a distraction even more than a drink. So as I worked the cork loose, I turned to Em and asked, “What do you need to talk about?”
“Well, there’s good news, and there’s bad news,” she announced. I had the cork out, finally, so she picked up the wineglasses, holding them while I poured.
“Good news first; I could use the lift.” I slid the cork partway into the bottle, setting it carefully beside me so that it wouldn’t tip over. I did not want that bottle to break or spill. The wine was too good, and too expensive, to waste.
“The church approved Matty’s transfer out of the militant order and into the regular priesthood. So we can get married.” Emma grinned.
“Yes!” I did a fist pump with my left hand. Then we clinked glasses and took a celebratory drink.
I didn’t want to hear the bad news. I figured I already knew what it would be. Damn Connor Finn anyway. Then Emma surprised me.
“But they’re transferring him. There are no openings in the regular orders in California right now. So we’ll be moving to either Seattle or Portland.” She sighed. “I mean, I love him. Of course I’ll go wherever he’s posted. But damn it, I just got the house finished! It’s awesome. It’s perfect. And now I won’t get to live in it.”
“Oh, hell. That sucks.” I almost stumbled over my words because what she’d said so wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. “But Portland and Seattle are just a road trip away. I was afraid they’d send you guys somewhere on the other side of the world—if they approved the transfer at all.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. She sipped her wine. “That’s not what you thought the bad news was going to be.” She stared at me through narrowed eyes.
Oh, crap. If Matteo hadn’t told her, it sure wasn’t my place to. But damn it.
Before she could pursue it further, my phone rang. I just about broke my neck in my hurry to get it out of my pocket. I was absolutely desperate to avoid the inevitable grilling Emma was about to give me. “Hello?”
Rizzoli answered me with, “About freaking time, Graves.”
“Sorry. Life’s been crazy. What’s up?”
“You owe me two hundred bucks,” he growled.
“Huh?” Okay, not the most intelligent response, but he had me at a disadvantage. I had no clue why I would owe him any money.
“I figured that with everything going on you might not be able to go back to the diner to get the SUV for a couple of days, so I paid the owner of the truck stop next door to park it in an empty bay. That way it won’t get stolen before you can pick it up. But it’s only paid through Tuesday, so don’t dawdle.”
“Thanks, Rizzoli, I really appreciate it. I’ll be sure to pick it up before then. And I’ll give you the money next time I see you.” I paused. “So, what happened at the Needle after I left?”
“A lot of paperwork. A lot of interviews. There’ll be inspections and all sorts of crap going on for God alone knows how long. Zorn is having conniptions. So is the warden. You were lucky to miss it. They’re trying to keep a lid on how bad the situation actually is, so the press is being given limited information. If any reporters contact you, don’t tell them anything. We don’t want to start a panic.”
I agreed with that. Just so long as they fixed the problem. “And Connor Finn?”
“They’ve got him under special guard.”
Maybe that was good enough. I hoped so. But I wouldn’t bet the bank on it—in part because I suspected that someone high up in the prison hierarchy was helping Finn and that at least one spawn had been added to the staff while the barriers were down. So the “Connor Finn” in the Needle could be a spawn and the real man could be free to do whatever he wanted. I thought that the Connor Finn I spoke to was the real deal, but I couldn’t be sure.
Just the thought of it chilled me to the bone.
Dom was talking, and I got the impression I’d missed something. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I said, I’ve still got your jacket and weapons. How do you want me to get them to you?”
“Where are you?”
“Right now? I’m at the L.A. office. I probably won’t be back in Santa Maria until sometime Wednesday.”
“Any chance you could drop my stuff by the hospital and leave it with Isaac? I’ll probably go see him again tomorrow.”
“Fine. I need to ask him a couple of questions anyway.”
“Thanks, Rizzoli. I owe you one.”
“You owe me several,” he said, without malice.
I hung up. Emma was waiting, her expression very serious, her eyes dark and fathomless. For a second I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about before Dom’s call. Then she spoke.
“You know what Matty and Bruno are doing tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Em…” I started.
“The four of them made me swear not to tell, but you already know,” she said accusingly.
There was no point in denying it, so I just nodded. “I don’t have a lot of specifics. But Isaac gave me an overview of what’s probably going to happen. And I think I may have a way to keep everybody alive.”
Her jaw dropped in shock and she very nearly dropped her wineglass, recovering after a bit of wine spilled onto her leg. She looked at me and I swear I could see the hope rise in her. “You do? How?”
“By keeping Michelle alive. She’s the key. If he can’t kill her, Finn’s magic will backlash on him. If he dies, none of our guys have to.”
“And how do you plan on keeping her alive? The top mages in the world haven’t figured out a way to stop a bloodline curse.” I could tell she didn’t quite believe that what I was suggesting was possible.
I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “Don’t be too sure about that. Finn is related to the Garzas, but he survived the first curse he cast against those with Garza blood.”
“How?”
I told her my theory and how I planned to save Michelle. “I had to go through Chris and hire the Company to do it, but it’ll be worth the cost.”
“The Company.” There was bitterness in Emma’s voice when she said the name. Kevin had been affiliated with them for a number of years. She knew more about the Company than was probably good for her.
“They’re the only ones I know with the resources who’d be willing to take this kind of risk.”
“For a price.”
“Always,” I admitted.
As if on cue, my cell rang again. “Hello?”
“Graves, where are you?” Chris sounded pissy.
“At home, why?”
“There’s a private airstrip outside of town.”
“I know it.” I’d been there a few times, since John Creede kept Miller & Creede’s corporate plane there. It wasn’t a big place, but it was secure and well maintained, and the runway was just long enough for a small jet.
“Can you get there in a half hour?”
“Why?”
“We need to get the equipment out to wherever you’ve got my patient stashed, and I need to do some basic tests—typing, screening, the usual.
“Didn’t Dawna get you the hospital records? I know Michelle signed a release.”
“Do you have any idea how long it takes the average medical records department to process paperwork to outside providers? Trust me. This is faster. And this way I know it’s accurate. So I need to see the patient. Sooner is better if you want me to be able to get matching blood in time for tomorrow’s full moon.”
Made sense to me. “It’s quite a drive—” I began, but he interrupted me.
“We’re not driving. Hence the airstrip.” He hung up on me. Again. That particular bad habit of his was getting
very old, very quickly.
28
Emma insisted on driving me. I didn’t argue. I went into the house just long enough to arm up, use the bathroom, and finger-fluff my hair, then followed her to her car.
It was a quiet ride to the airstrip, but not uncomfortable. Both Emma and I had a lot to think about. Waiting on the tarmac was a military-style helicopter. I had no idea what kind it was; all I knew was that it was big, green, and aggressive looking, with two engines, four rotors, and a fairly large cargo bay.
I jumped out the second Emma’s subcompact came to a full stop, then leaned back in just long enough to say thanks and grab my purse before slamming the door and hurrying away.
Chris was waiting inside the open cargo door of the helicopter, looking impatiently at his watch. “What took you so long?”
“Traffic.”
He grunted with displeasure. “I have other things I want to do yet tonight, Graves. We need to get moving. What’s our destination?”
“Edwards Lake.”
“Did you hear that, Rob?” Chris called over his shoulder to the pilot.
“Got it. Do you have an address, or do you just plan to direct me when we get there?”
I told him the address. Then I clambered on board and took one of a pair of empty seats, strapping on my shoulder harness.
The bay was large but crowded with cartons and wooden crates. A lot of the boxes were labeled, so I could see that they contained medical equipment. I supposed the crates were probably for Chris’s other client. I didn’t need or want to know what might be in them.
My inspection of my ride was interrupted by an unexpected arrival at the cargo door.
“Emma, what are you doing here?” Chris was shouting to be heard over the sound of the engines and the whup, whup of the rotors.
“I’m coming.” She pushed past him and climbed on board.
“Em,” I shouted, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming.” Her eyes flashed, her chin jutting out aggressively. Chris didn’t argue, just rolled his eyes and gestured for her to take the seat next to mine. Then he closed the door firmly, as if to ward off any other invaders.
“Did you get any details?” I asked, but Emma shook her head.
We didn’t talk after that. It was too loud. Besides, there was nothing to say. Plenty of experience had taught me that her talent as a clairvoyant wasn’t something to underestimate.
There was an abrupt, upward jerk, and we were airborne. I closed my eyes, concentrating on not giving in to panic and not tossing my cookies. Once upon a time I was very afraid of flying. I’ve worked on that with Gwen. Most of the time now, I do okay. But the jerky liftoff of a helicopter is always a problem, and it gets worse when I’m nervous—which I was. I forced myself to remain calm. I succeeded, but mostly because I just couldn’t bear thinking about the amount of crap I’d have to put up with from Chris if I didn’t.
Vanity? Oh, yeah. But this once, at least, it was useful.
Forty miles was a short hop for a bird as large as this one. I had no idea how fast we were traveling, but we slowed to a stop and landed after just fifteen minutes or so. I helped unload the equipment while Chris did his medical stuff with Michelle, who was perplexed but cooperative. I hadn’t explained anything to her or any of my team; I’d barely had time during the helicopter flight to text them to let them know I was coming,.
In less than ten minutes Chris was finished and the chopper was lifting off. Kevin, Emma, and I watched it go, hands shielding our eyes against the glare of chopper lights. Bubba was inside cooking dinner with Michelle. Talia had gone off duty awhile back and was out of sight, somewhere else in the house. At least I assumed she was. I hadn’t seen her.
Maybe it was the wind raised by the rotors, but I caught a scent on the air, faint at first but growing stronger quickly. Beside me, Kevin stiffened. In the house, I heard Paulie start barking frantically.
Emma sniffed delicately. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”
I turned, tracking the odor, and on the ridge saw a wall of fire. In the instant that I stood there with my mouth hanging open, it began to race toward us.
“Everybody into the vehicle. Now!” I shouted. “We’re evacuating.”
Kevin followed my gaze. He swore, then bellowed, “Move, people! It’s time to go!” His voice carried better than mine had; through the windows, I could see movement inside the house. Digging in his jeans pocket Kevin drew out a set of car keys, and the three of us ran around the house to the garage, where his SUV was parked. He started the engine with a roar as Bubba rushed out of the house with his gun drawn, a terrified Michelle at his heels, and Talia and Paulie close behind. Talia was naked and sopping wet from the shower, but she carried the holster with her Glock in it.
By the time we roared out of the garage, the fire had reached the driveway. The air was thick with smoke and soot, and it was hard to see. It was hard to breathe, and what air I could suck into my lungs stank of burning. Everyone was coughing, even the dog.
We flew down the road; crackling flames reaching for the vehicle like greedy fingers. The car lurched and bucked as we tried to outrun the blaze. If we could reach the dam, we should be safe.
Bubba was swearing under his breath, generating an impressively steady stream of profanity.
The fire chased us. No kidding. The road wound, and the fire wound with it, always staying slightly to our rear. At last we burst out of the woods, out of the flames, and onto the road that led across the dam at the base of the lake. The smoke and soot cleared just in time for Kevin to see a semi parked sideways in the middle of the dam, completely blocking the road. Sunlight reflected off the barrel of the rifle that rested at the ready on the truck’s hood. I couldn’t make out the shooter’s face.
“Shit!” Kevin downshifted and slammed on the brakes, pulling sharply on the wheel. His attempt at a tight bootlegger turn rocked the vehicle onto two wheels and killed the engine, leaving us sitting sideways across both lanes. I shoved Michelle to the floorboards and climbed awkwardly over her to open the door and get out. Using the vehicle as a shield, I aimed my backup Colt at the threat in front of us. The fire continued to move inexorably forward, though it was considerably slowed by the lack of fuel out on the concrete dam and by the presence of water on one side.
The first shot rang out—not from the rifleman ahead but from an unseen shooter somewhere behind. It was a miss, but a second shot, fired from the bigger weapon a few yards away, thunked heavily into the engine compartment of the SUV.
“We’re sitting ducks.” Bubba fired his big old .44 cannon at something behind me. My eyes were all for the rifleman. He was biding his time, waiting for the perfect shot. That wasn’t going to be easy with all the swirling smoke. My eyes were streaming and everyone was having periodic coughing fits.
“All right. I’m going to create a diversion. Give me a five count, then here’s what we’re going to do. Kevin, you take Michelle, Emma, and Paulie down to the water’s edge. If you have to, you can jump into the lake to escape the fire. See if you can make your way back to Fred’s by sticking to the edge of the lake; I saw an aluminum canoe at the dock there. Take Michelle out onto the center of the lake and wait for my signal. She’ll be safe from the fire there and it’s too far for a clear shot.” I reached down, took my backup Derringer from its ankle holster, and handed it to Emma. If things went really bad, it wouldn’t help much, but it was better than nothing and Emma was a steady shot. “Bubba and Talia, you take out the shooters behind us. Try not to get killed. I don’t want Mona pissed at me.”
Bubba gave a short bark of laughter.
“All right, people. Good luck.” I took a deep breath, checked my weapon, and dashed away from the SUV, running straight for the enemy in front of me. In that moment, I did something I rarely wanted to do: I embraced my inner monster. I called to it, pulled on the always-simmering bloodlust to give me everything it had: strength, speed, vampire hearing and vision, t
he works. I tore across the pavement toward the semi, the scenery blurring around me as I gave a primal yell that flashed fangs.
I didn’t get a good look at the shooter until I was almost upon him. I’ll give him this, Jack Finn was no coward. I could hear his pulse speed up, but he still tried to take aim at me. He didn’t stand a chance; I was moving way too fast. I leapt over the hood of the vehicle, screaming in rage and grabbing for him, but I had too much momentum. I overshot my target and landed on the pavement a few feet away. I spun around in an instant.
I expected him to fight, but he surprised me. Dropping the rifle, Jack rolled completely under the truck and out the other side. Scrambling to his feet, he ran straight for the edge of the dam, hurdled the railing, and dived in. The spell he’d used to control the flames died before he hit the water, the fire flickering and guttering quickly out.
The human ran so slowly that I had plenty of time to raise the gun in my hand and aim at him. Then I stopped.
Spare the pawn.
I didn’t want to spare him. I didn’t want to spare anyone. I wanted blood, and I wanted it now. I heard the splash as he hit the water, out of my reach, watched as he swam toward the dock with its little aluminum canoe.
He was gone.
But there were others close at hand.
I turned. With my vampire vision I could clearly see the humans a few yards away, despite the swirling remains of smoke and ash, despite the thin metal shell that enclosed some of them. As one, they stared at me.
I stared back, holding my body perfectly still as I tried to remember why I should not feed on them. There was a reason. I knew there was. But I was so hungry I couldn’t think of it.
They were so warm, so alive. I was so cold. Hunger cramped my belly.
Still, I held my ground and tried to think like a human. I had a name. What was my name?
“Celia?” One of them said, without moving. It was smart of the large human to stand still. But it was oh so frustrating. If he just came closer I could feed, ease the pain, the hunger, and the cold.