Everyone was staring at me, silent.
Dominic cleared his throat. “They can hear hearts beating?”
“Well, of course, I mean you—” And then I realized what I was saying with everyone in the room. “Don’t you think they could? They’re more animal than human, more instinctual than intellectual. Their senses, including hearing, are probably more acute.”
Dominic nodded sagely, but I could see the slight smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
Greta snorted. “From what I saw at Wingate Park, that’s damn true.”
“Well, there’s another public, outdoor event at Prospect Park tonight,” Harroway said. “A festival. Something about the sun god and body paint?”
“Tomorrow is the summer solstice,” Dominic said. “The longest day of the year.”
Dr. Chunn nodded after a few keystrokes at her computer. “Yes, it’s a celebration of the summer solstice.”
“They’re celebrating the sun at night?” I asked.
“They’re celebrating the sunrise. It’s the longest day of the year, and apparently they’re celebrating it all day,” Dr. Chunn said, scanning an online article.
Harroway snorted. “Sounds like an excuse to get drunk to me.”
“Sounds like our next hit to me,” Rowens said.
“The festivities began at sunset tonight and continue until sunset tomorrow,” Dr. Chunn continued, sticking to the facts.
Greta nodded curtly. “Harroway, research parks and outdoor venues for other possible events tonight. If there are multiple events, find out which has the highest head count.”
“You got it,” Harroway said.
“So we’re officially planning a stakeout?” Meredith asked, her tone suggesting a possible barbeque instead of a mass murder.
“We’re planning a stakeout,” Greta corrected, circling Harroway, Dominic, Rowens, and myself with her finger. “You’ve had enough excitement for the week.”
Meredith frowned. “Cassidy’s had more excitement than me. She’s in a wheelchair, for heaven’s sake.”
“Scooter,” I corrected with a glare. “And I was injured in the line of duty. You can’t exclude me for that.”
“And I wasn’t?” Meredith asked, obviously affronted.
Greta looked between the two of us, just as obviously not liking what she was seeing. “You’re both out.”
“I’m the one with the tracking devices,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Tell me again, because I must have missed it: Where did you get those tracking devices? And why is it important that they’re silver-plated?” Greta nailed me in place with the suspicion in her eyes.
I snapped my mouth shut.
“That’s what I thought. The trackers are mine, and you’re out.”
“Rowens only has one arm,” I said, dragging him under the bus along with the rest of us. “He should be out, too.”
“I was an ambidextrous switch shooter with FBI training.” Rowens pointed at Dominic. “And I’ve shown up to more meetings than him.”
Dominic didn’t point the finger at anyone. He just stared Greta down with those creepy eyes in silence.
Greta and Harroway looked at each other, knowing they were toast. They couldn’t stake out an attack of the magnitude we were anticipating by themselves. The rest of her department would be on patrol, protecting the festival participants and bystanders. We were a ragtag team, but we were all she had.
“Fine, you’re all in,” Greta conceded grudgingly. “But I want on the record that I’m not happy about it,” she grumbled. “Pair up. We need—”
“I call DiRocco,” Dominic said.
“Not a chance.” Greta eyed the two of us warily. “Neither of you can shoot. As I was trying to say, we need at least one person in each pair who can aim the trackers.” She eyed the lot of us with her hard, decisive gaze and said, “Cassidy, you’re with Harroway.”
“Wonderful,” I grumbled. “Just like old times.”
Harroway scowled.
“And Nicholas,” Greta said, ignoring us, “you’re with Rowens.”
I glanced askance at Rowens and tried to remember if I’d told Dominic that I’d told Rowens the truth about vampires.
“What about me?” Meredith asked. “Who’s my partner?”
“Dr. Chunn,” Greta said. “I need you here to continue the good work you’re doing with our crime-scene photos.”
“But you said everyone was in. I can take photos. I can—”
“We have police on staff who know how to point and shoot a camera if needed. What we don’t have is your eye and software. I need some people on scene, and I need some people in the lab. We need both to compile a successful case, and right now, you’re one of the people I need in the lab.”
“We’ll have more fun in the lab anyway.” Dr. Chunn glanced up from her computer and smiled at Meredith. “Do you like sushi?”
“Do I like sushi?” Meredith asked and laughed. “Never mind, I like the lab.”
I shook my head. “I’m going out to face heart-eating monsters with Harroway, and you get to play with your photos and eat sushi.”
“Doesn’t seem fair,” Rowens muttered, but from the way his eyes lingered on Dr. Chunn as she bent over her computer, I’d say it wasn’t the sushi he wanted.
I glanced at Dominic and recognized the same longing on his face that I’d just glimpsed in Rowens’ expression. His gaze ignited something hot and feral inside me. I looked away before my expression could give away my own longing. None of us would be getting what we really wanted tonight.
Chapter 25
An hour into my stakeout with Harroway, I realized that if the Damned didn’t attack him soon, I would. In the five years since our last fateful stakeout together, I’d forgotten how much he liked to bite and spit out his cuticles. We were across the street from Prospect Park on the top floor of a fifty-story high-rise. Rowens and Dominic were in a similar location across the park on the north side, and Greta was covering the west end. Harroway had already locked and loaded the tracking gun. He’d checked his rounds three times, set up the tripod, and tested the angle of our location. He had a clear view of the southern half of the park through the window at this location, just like he’d thought he would. He couldn’t do anything about the areas obstructed by trees, and Rowens should have a clear view of the north half of the park. There was nothing left for Harroway to do but sit and wait.
And spit his cuticles out the open window.
I pointed at the mostly naked festival revelers as I watched them through my binoculars. “Does this bother you?” I asked. Honestly, I couldn’t be less interested in his opinion, but I needed him using his mouth for anything besides a nail trimmer, even if that meant small talk.
“I’ve never been inclined toward public nudity myself, but it doesn’t necessarily bother me.” He raised his eyebrows as a group of women rode into the park on bicycles, the only thing between their nipples and the air a thin coating of orange paint in the shape of sunbursts. “In fact, I think we should have solstice festivals more often.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not the festival. The people and their ignorance. We know the creatures will attack, and here we wait and watch, not giving them warning.”
“We need the creatures to attack so we can track them back to wherever they’re hiding. If we warned people and prevented the attack, the creatures would just attack somewhere else where we’re not waiting and watching. What good would that do?”
“I know,” I said, but gazing out at the mass of painted fanatics enjoying their night, anticipating the sunrise, unaware that they were vampire bait, made my heart sore. They would die tonight if we were right about the Damned. Not telling them felt wrong, even if Harroway was right.
“You can’t save everyone, DiRocco,” Harroway said. I met his gaze, and the bitter gratefulness in his eyes was still there even after all these years. I’d saved his life. He’d lived when he should have died, but I’d been the one to sacrifice my hea
lth.
Being a cop, he thought it should have been his sacrifice and my life saved.
Being his partner, I didn’t care what he thought. Partners had each other’s backs—literally, if necessary—whether they were cops or not. Whether they were friends or not.
“Besides,” he continued, “we have a perimeter of police on the ground to protect the civilians. You and I might be waiting and watching from a distance, but the rest of the force will jump to the rescue if the creatures attack.”
I looked out over the night warily. “They’ll attack. Whether we chose the correct location is questionable, but they’ll attack somewhere tonight.”
“I did my research,” Harroway defended, not for the first time. “There are no other outdoor events occurring in Brooklyn tonight. This is our best bet, just like Meredith said.”
Something moved in the night sky, a slight shadow behind the clouds. The movement was too fast and too faint to see, but if I didn’t blink, I could almost see it again. Something.
“Harroway,” I whispered.
“I even reached out to my contacts at the Chamber of Commerce and had them check their calendars. Unless an unsanctioned public event occurs tonight, this festival is our crime scene.”
The shadow movement multiplied, still too fast to really see and into too many forms to differentiate one from another. Something had to cast those shadows, and I realized with a grim sort of resignation that that something was the Damned; they were soaring high above the clouds, the moon casting their shadows under them. They were coming. Dozens of them. And they were closing in fast.
“And a personal party, even outside, wouldn’t be bigger than this, anyway. We—”
“I believe you.” I pointed to the sky. “Look.”
“Up? What could possibly be—” His mouth fell open in silence.
The Damned broke through the clouds. More than the dozens of them we’d anticipated—nearly a hundred of them. Moonlight beamed over their swarm through the holes they’d punctured through the clouds, spotlighting their descent. They converged on the park like locusts—like ten-foot-tall, taloned, fanged locusts—and the moment their back-hinged hind legs pounded down into the earth, they didn’t waste any time on foreplay. I could hear the screams from the festival-goers even from fifty floors up.
“Are you ready?” I asked, but I should have known better. Harroway had already abandoned his binoculars in favor of his sniper scope.
But he didn’t shoot.
“Do you have a good shot?” I asked.
“I have thirty good shots,” he snapped. “I picked this location for the very purpose of having a good shot, remember?”
“Then what are you—”
“What are they, DiRocco?” he asked, still gazing down on the bloodbath through his sniper scope. I didn’t need my binoculars to know the nightmare that he was seeing. The carnage. The sudden, certain, widespread death. The solstice revelers had been enjoying the night moments before, and now they were dead, just like I’d known they would be, despite the police perimeter. The police were probably dead too.
“Just take the shot,” I said, my voice as cold as I felt.
“With the tracker gun or my real gun?” he asked, and he was looking at me this time. It was a legitimate question.
“Regular bullets won’t penetrate their scales,” I reminded him.
“Bullets can’t penetrate, but the tracker will?” he asked.
“According to my source—” I began.
“If you found trackers that penetrate their scales, you should have found bullets that could, too. This is bullshit,” he grumbled, but his eyes were back on his scope.
“You agreed to this plan just like I did. We knew the risks.” I pointed at the festival. “You knew we were using them as bait. So don’t let their deaths be for nothing. Take the damn shot.”
Harroway’s lips thinned to a straight, hard line. He stared down on the scene through the scope, his breathing slowed as his body stilled, and he squeezed the trigger.
I stilled, too, waiting on Harroway’s reaction, but he didn’t move.
“Well?” I asked.
“It penetrated the scales,” he said, his voice flat. He shifted his stance and squeezed off another few shots.
“Good,” I said.
“Nothing about this is good,” he murmured.
“Had the trackers not penetrated, that would really not be good,” I reasoned. “Sometimes you take the good wherever you can get it.”
“Yeah, well, I—” Harroway’s voice cut short. He whipped around, his face feral. “Get away from the window!”
He scooped me off the scooter and knocked me to the floor a second before the window shattered.
Glass rained over us. I tucked my face into Harroway’s shoulder, and he protected my body from the blast with his own.
“Are you okay?”
“What the hell was that?” I snapped.
“Let’s go. We need to move. Now.” Harroway was already on his feet and dragging me across the floor by my bicep.
“Your leg is bleeding.” I pointed to his thigh and the glass shard protruding from it. “How—” I looked back, over Harroway’s shoulder at what was left of the window, and my heart dropped.
One of the Damned was standing behind him. As it stared at us, panting, the tracker Harroway had just shot into its flesh expelled itself from the creature’s shoulder with a wet, suctioned pop. It fell with a hard clank onto the hardwood floor at its feet.
The creature’s body had ejected the tracker and healed itself, like Dominic’s body could expel and heal from silver bullets. I stared at the now-useless tracking device with numb incredulity. This was not happening. Nathan had been shot with silver-plated bullets, and they’d stayed in his body where they’d belonged. The tracker was silver-plated and should have worked under the same principle, damn it!
The creature reached out with its massive claw and struck Harroway. I heard the rip of Kevlar, felt a warm, liquid gush of blood, and then Harroway was ripped off me. He was airborne for a heartbeat before slamming into the far wall and landing hard on the floor.
I reached for Harroway’s dropped tracker gun, but instead of aiming between the eyes, I aimed directly for the creature’s eyeball. It had worked for Walker against Bex. It could work for me, too. I remembered what had happened to Rowens when his kill shot hadn’t killed Nathan, and it wasn’t just my own mistakes that I could learn from. I planned on keeping my arm.
I squeezed the trigger.
The creature’s eye exploded. It reared back with a shrieking howl that made the glass shards dance across the floor. As it backpedaled away from me, I shot it again and again without mercy, forcing it back step-by-step until it ran out of floor, slipped on the shattered glass, and disappeared out the broken window.
I didn’t waste time watching it fall. I knew better. I’d watched Nathan fall while he was Damned, but he’d never hit bottom. Those were precious seconds we didn’t have, because if one enraged creature could jump fifty stories to kill us, so could a second. And a third. And however many more Harroway had shot, giving away our location.
I crawled to him, debilitating pain radiating from my hip and down my leg. Hand over hand, I dragged myself across the floor until I reached Harroway. He hadn’t moved since being slammed against the wall and falling to the floor, and when I was finally at his side, I could see why. My breath hitched, and I covered my mouth as my brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
The creature’s claws had gouged his back in four slices, but the Kevlar had provided some protection; the wounds weren’t deep. They could have been stitched, and he would have been fine, except that the shard of glass in his thigh had slammed home when Harroway had been knocked into the wall.
My hand trembled as I touched the wound, but I didn’t dare pull the glass out. Judging by the amount of blood pulsing from his thigh, it had severed the femoral artery. If I removed it, he’d bleed out in moments.
As it was, he probably only had minutes.
I laid my head down on the floor next to his. “Harroway?”
He was still breathing, but just barely. His inhales were slow and labored, and his exhales were hard, fast drops. He was struggling and suffering. His eyes were wide and glazed.
I yanked the phone from my pocket and called Greta. Her phone rang, but five rings later, she still hadn’t answered. My hands shook as her phone transferred to voice mail. Greta always answered her phone. Especially on a stakeout when everything was going to shit, she would answer or die trying.
Unless she was already dead.
I called the precinct and ordered backup and paramedics before ducking back down to eye level with Harroway.
“Harroway!” I tapped his cheek. “Please. Come on, don’t do this to me.”
His eyes focused on my face and something between a sob and a whimper escaped from my lips. “You saved my life,” I said. “You covered my body with yours and shielded me from the glass.”
His eyes glazed and fluttered. I touched his cheek to make him listen. “You saved me, Harroway.”
“’Bout time,” he whispered.
I let out a harsh little laugh. “I’ve already called for backup. More police and medics are on the way.”
“No more people,” he whispered.
I frowned. “Yes, more people are on the way. Just hold on.”
Harroway didn’t speak for a long moment. It took everything in him just to keep breathing. “No,” he finally said, “more people—” He gasped between words. “—means more victims.”
I cupped his face in my hands. “You listen to me. Don’t worry about other people. You just hang on and keep breathing. You got that?”
The wet, tearing noises of his gasping breaths slayed me.
“Run,” he whispered.
Tears scalded my cheeks. I swiped them away with the back of my hand before he could see. “I’m not leaving you,” I choked out.
His eyes were unfocused, staring through me rather than at me, and he repeated, “Run.”
“Even if I wanted to, you know I can’t. I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped, but even as I said it, I smelled what he’d probably already seen. He wasn’t looking through me. He was looking behind me.
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