One avenue after another. The occasional car whipped past, headlight strobing the darkness, faces pale as they stared out of windows at her in shock. She released the handlebars, opened her arms, and closed her eyes. The wind was devouring her. With a mad laugh she opened her eyes and saw a broad avenue ahead. She veered out wide and then at the last moment tapped the brakes and sawed to the left and screamed into a wide turn, nearly sideswiping a car before the tires caught and she rocketed down a much larger street. Biscayne Blvd. read a sign. She knew where she was. This was the route they had taken last night to the Beach.
A name flashed through her mind: Rupert. He had her father’s Omni. She wanted it back. It made no sense to go after it, but then nothing made sense, and who could oppose a goddess? A vengeful goddess closing in on her prey from out of the howling depths of night. She ripped the bike over to the left, saw the onramp, took it, and then shot out over the water of the Intercoastal along that glorious bridge. She was going so fast now that she couldn’t think. The wind was a banshee in her ears, forcing her to slit her eyes, tearing at her hair with frenzied claws. She pushed the bike as fast as it would go. She loved this stretch of road, this line of speed she gouged out of the world.
It lasted but moments before she was on the far side. She slowed down, slid over to the right, and then turned down the Boulevard. Past the first lights, the bike alive between her thighs, obedient and challenging. Past homes and the occasional car that drove as if mired in mud. Slipping ever closer to her prey. Over that final little bridge, the same left, and down the street on which Angelo had parked.
Elated, she slowed and drove through the alley and out onto Lincoln Road. She knew this was not allowed. That this was not how one set about surviving in Miami. She didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She was riding high on the greatest wave of euphoria she’d ever felt, her head brushing the stars. She slowed and stopped the bike. Propped it up with one foot.
Everybody stared. Playboys and executive types, women in stiletto heels and security guards. Young and old, the crowd about her froze. People looked up from their dinner tables before the restaurants, everybody’s eyes wide, terrified by this challenge to the fragile stasis of the night. This isn’t done, a voice whispered in her mind. But, oh, she whispered back, it is now.
She twisted the accelerator savagely and bolted forward, front wheel lifting off the ground as she blazed a trail down Lincoln, the bike’s engine a shattering roar. Security guards yelled out, and out of the corner of her eye she saw two of them raise their guns and take aim. She ducked her head and used all her skill and focus even at this heightened level to weave forward between the gawking people, slipping back and forth and knifing through them all, leaving the guards behind. A blink, a moment later, and she was out on Collins, turning so sharply to the left that her knee brushed the road and tore away her jeans. She bounced up and over the far curb, nearly collided with the wall, pulled back onto the road and was through, roaring right toward Magnum.
She pulled up sharply before the entrance, scattering the line of people who were trying to get in. Killed the engine, and sat back. She took a deep breath, and looked at the door. That same huge white bouncer. Maria Elena by his side, staring at her in complete and utter shock.
She got off the bike. Took the key, pocketed it.
“Selah?” Maria Elena continued to gape. “What—?”
Selah strode toward the door, people opening before her. The bouncer stepped forward, blocking her path. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Had no idea. Felt like her whole body was a whip, coiled and ready to lash out. Kept walking right up to him, and when he extended his hand to block her path, she simply ducked under his arm. He moved so slowly it was pathetic. It was so easy to simply kick his foot out from under him, the sweep of her own leg languorous and slow, and then he was falling, crashing down onto his side. Without planning to, she kicked him across the jaw, not even that hard, and his head snapped back over and he lay still.
Maria Elena was staring at her as if she were a ghost come back from the dead. Selah winked and walked past her, into the club. Through the front door and into the pounding, pulsing darkness beyond.
Chapter Ten
The music was all consuming. Selah walked into the nexus and turned toward the hidden door. It was locked, so she stepped back and kicked it open, planting her heel right next to the handle, shattering the lock and sending the door cracking and caving inward. Laughed, laughed at how easy it all was. Nothing, it seemed, could stop her.
She entered the narrow hall, listening carefully, alert. Hector burst out of the door ahead of her, a heavy pistol in his hand. He started to train it on her, finger already tightening on the trigger, when a flood of adrenaline dumped itself into her system. Selah moved. Ducked low and to the left, leaped forward as he fired at where she had been. She surged forward and closed the distance, came up under his arm and behind him. He was only now starting to turn his head, trying to track her, but it was far too late. She reached out and took him by the back of the neck and one shoulder and thrust him into the wall, turning at the hip so he was lifted right off the ground and crashed into the cinderblocks, bouncing off and falling to lie at her feet.
She stared down at him. Part of her mind reeled, screaming at her, not recognizing what she was doing, terrified at how easy it was to hurt people. But she ignored it, turned to look at the door through which Hector had emerged.
Selah stepped inside and saw Rupert fumbling with a pistol. He looked up at her with sheer horror writ across his face. Behind him was a bank of security screens, showing chaos following in her wake. The crowd milled at the entrance, security guards running up, guns out. People panicked within the nexus. She had only moments.
“My Omni,” she said, extending her hand, as if inviting him to dance. “Give it to me.”
Rupert stared at her with blank incomprehension. “What?”
Rage scorched her from within like a column of flame. “My Omni!” she screamed, taking up a chair and throwing it just to his left, shattering a number of screens and sending sparks flying in great sizzling arcs. “Where is it?”
“OK, OK!” he yelled, falling away from the sparks, dropping the gun to wrap his arms over his head. “I’ll get it!” He ran over to a desk and yanked open a drawer, rummaged inside, and drew out her machine. “Here!” He held it out to her. She glided forward and took it. Rubbed her thumb lovingly across its screen and pocketed it.
She was out of time. This was ridiculous. All this danger for one communication unit! She wanted to laugh, felt delirious and alive. Selah stepped back out into the hallway. It was still clear. She ran lightly down it, stepping over Hector’s body, and out into the nexus, right into a knot of security guards. They had electrified batons out, were clearly not ready for her. She ran through them, ducking and turning and spinning as they began to react and swing out at her. Under a baton, around a second man, her back momentarily touching his as she swept past. She allowed momentum to carry her past the third, their batons leaving lazy trails of ozone in the air. She was simply too fast for them.
She ran out to the door, people scattering before her, and then paused. A woman stood before the bike, examining it. She was dressed in a white leather suit that hugged her angular frame beautifully, her hair so blond, it was almost white. She turned to stare at Selah. Black eyes. Eyes like pitch, like the depths of the earth. Terror and elation, panic and euphoria surged up within Selah, and she stepped forward, aware of the security guards rushing up behind her. The blond began to walk forward, frowning in annoyance. Clearly not understanding yet what was happening, only aware of a disturbance. Of a young black girl walking toward her without sufficient deference. They approached each other, closed the distance far too quickly. The woman opened her mouth to issue a command and Selah let slip the reins that held back her body and leaped.
Straight at the woman, arms crossed before her face in an X. The woman’s black eyes widened and then she was bending
back, flexing like a bow, moving so quickly her long hair was left in a white arc above her. Selah dove through her hair, hit the ground on the other side and threw herself into a roll. Then she was up on her feet and on the bike, key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.
The vampire woman had dropped back onto one outstretched hand, and just as quickly shoved herself back upright, spinning around, face contorted in fury and surprise, but Selah wasn’t going to wait around. She turned the accelerator all the way and nearly fell off the bike as it slammed forward. She slid down the street in one long smear of movement, and then tore the bike to the right, leaving the club behind.
It was a simple matter to navigate her way back to the great bridge. To shoot out back along its length, thrilling at the speed, deliberately not think about what had happened. What was still happening. She raced back onto the mainland and worked her way back along the streets that were already beginning to feel familiar. There was the bus in the intersection. She slowed, unsure as to where to go. What to do. Eased the bike down the street and crawled past the Palisades. She could possibly force her way inside with her new strength, but that felt wrong, a violation. So she drove past, and then turned the bike around and began to cruise downtown.
Eventually, she stopped before a small park. Parked the bike, kicked out the kickstand, and leaned back in the seat. She was starting to tremble violently, she realized. She raised her hands and stared at them. Her heart was beating far too quickly. She felt fevered, unable to focus her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Selah got off the bike and walked into the park.
It was silent, still. A cicada chirped somewhere close, and it seemed strange to move so slowly after that extended headlong rush on the bike. She moved to the center of the little park and sat carefully on a stone bench. Mosquitoes whirled in the air about her, but she ignored them.
For the first time, she tried to think. To question. Tried to slow her thoughts down, much as a wrangler might try to break a wild horse. She clenched her hands between her knees and bowed her head. Fought the strange and persistent euphoria that still swelled her lungs, that made it almost impossible to sit still. It demanded movement, action, speed—violence.
Selah lifted her face to the heavens. The moon was above her now, looking distant, half hidden behind the wisps of cloud. She stared at it, sought help from its white expanse. Closed her eyes.
“Come on,” she whispered. Rocked slightly back and forth, tucked her chin to her chest. “Get it together. Think. Think!”
Slowly, she fought for calm. Slowed her breath, stilled her thoughts. The feel of her toe connecting with the bouncer’s chin. The boneless jarring of Hector’s shoulder against the wall. She dug out her Omni, and stared at the dead screen. Almost turned it on, but then stopped. It was probably bugged. For all she knew, it was giving a GPS signal and betraying her location right now. She set it aside bitterly. What had she been thinking?
Start at the beginning. The vampire. He had bitten her. She should have died—could have died. Being fed on wasn’t lethal, but he’d acted as if he planned to drain her. She tried to recall the fear, the terror of that dark moment, but she couldn’t summon it through the thrill that persisted in her blood. She’d blacked out, drowned in pleasure. Then—what? Had awoken, and the vampire had been crying. Selah rubbed her face. This was ridiculous. Vampires didn’t cry. They couldn’t feel. Not really. Hence their capacity for inhuman cruelty. Yet he’d been on the ground, sobbing. And she? She had been flying high. Was only now coming down. What did it mean?
Selah stood, unable to sit still any longer. Began to pace. And it wasn’t just a high. She looked at her hands. She had been able to movefaster. Had a level of confidence she’d never experienced before. Sure, she sometimes acted confident, but never without a core of doubt, of insecurity under it all. Not like this, not acting without thought, without doubt.
She stopped. Had she attacked a vampire? Selah blinked and then groaned. She had. She had attacked that blond lady. Only the complete surprise her attack had caused had let her get away. That and the bike. Oh, god. She was so dead.
Selah looked about the park. Where was she? Where could she go? What was going to happen next? She had to get rid of the Omni, or leave it somewhere till she could make sure it was clean. Then what? They would be looking for her. The vampire—the first one—had said they’d bugged her Garden. So they knew she was involved with the Resistance now. When that vampire returned to his home, he would tell them what had happened. They now knew that she had attacked Magnum. They would be coming for her.
Panic. She wanted to run, but where to? She couldn’t leave Miami. That damn wall was complete, encircling the entire city from coastline to the south right up and around the north. Swim? The vampire and the US Coast Guard were on high alert for just such an eventuality. Part of the Treaty. She could hide, perhaps. Go to ground. But for how long? Would they forget? Selah laughed, hysteria clawing at the edge of her voice—vampires lived forever. They would never forget.
Selah looked at the moon once more. She had truly fucked up this time. There was no denying it. There was no way out. The Resistance had said they wanted nothing to do with her. The vampires would start hunting her as soon as they figured out what had just happened. Could she perhaps get into the embassy? Maybe, but then what? She didn’t have an ID, and she’d be handed over the moment the vampires demanded her return.
Selah sat and lowered her face into her hands. Bleak despair welled up under her ever-diminishing euphoria. She thought of her dad. What would he have told her? What advice would he have given her now? She bit her lower lip. Pictured his face. His kind smile. Selah, you’re in it now. If things have to end, make sure they end right.
She sniffed. End things right. There was no getting away from it. She wasn’t going to last long now. She felt brave just thinking that, admitting it. Facing the truth. She was done for. She wouldn’t be able to save her dad. Had she thought herself a hero? What a disaster. So what was there left for her to do? Feeling wretched, feeling her heart break, she realized that all she wanted was to say goodbye to Mama B. Apologize one last time. Tell her she was finally starting to understand why she’d left Selah and her dad, no matter how bad it had hurt. Give her one last hug, and then face the music.
It felt liberating to make a decision. Felt like taking control. She took another sniff. She would not cry. Not now, not when this was all her fault. One last night, and then she’d say goodbye to Mama B in the morning. Then wait for the cops or security or whatever they were called to roll by and pick her up. And then? Then she didn’t know. She’d take it from there, one step at a time. Time to grow up.
She walked over to the bike. It had an almost-full tank of gas. She had a night to kill. Might as well enjoy the ride while she still had it. If she kept moving, kept to the main streets, then nobody would be able to bother her. She climbed on the bike, no longer as confident. It was incredibly heavy. How had she sawed it across lanes, whipped it back and forth at such speeds? She felt nervous now just turning it on. So much power. It was too easy to imagine falling and scraping her skin and flesh right off her bones, bouncing and tumbling like a rag doll. But there was enough of that foreign confidence left for her to turn the key and rev the throttle. She took a deep breath, a steadying breath, and looked down the street.
Her last night. She eased the bike forward, into the street, enjoying its sweet, low growl. Rolled forward and picked up speed. No mad dashes now, no headlong dives into the night. Now she just wanted to cruise and admire this ruined city, this fallen metropolis in all its foreign, frightening beauty. The air had grown cooler and was rich with the smell of night flowers and the distant tang of the ocean. She rolled down the block, leaving the little park behind, and then took a right, away from the ocean, turning inland, deciding to see how far she could drive before she hit the Wall.
The night passed. Selah spent hours simply cruising, navigating around deserted cars, pausing on occasion to stare at a
bandoned mansions, to look up at blind skyscrapers that groped up dumbly at the heavens. There were few people out, and she was able to accelerate past anybody that might have given her trouble. She went over what had to have been the Miami River, pausing at the apex of the bridge to watch the flow of the waters. She drove through endless empty suburbs, beautiful neighborhoods that had been reclaimed by nature, vines and weeds breaking the asphalt, entombing the houses, gardens grown wild and fey in the night.
She cruised past the still-active Miami airport, a plane roaring overhead as it came in off the waters and touched down. She stood for a while, staring through the chain-link fence. The vast expanse seemed to be dark but for one terminal, but that was enough. People were working through the night, building something here for the vampires. Moving Miami in whatever direction they needed.
She drove through a large community in the far northwest of the city. A long series of streets that were clearly lived in, the streets clean, the homes locked down for security but all of them inhabited. Signs identified it as the city of Hialeah. People here weren’t bottled up in isolated condos, but were instead living close, packed tightly, men sitting on chairs on the roofs, rifles in their arms. They stared at her, stood as she rolled through. Called out challenges in Spanish to which she couldn’t respond. She turned the bike around and drove right back out.
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