The houngan’s eyes seemed to burn as he looked down at her from his advantage in height. His lips curled, and his voice was oddly deep and resonant as he replied with two words.
“Get. Out.”
THREE
OKSANA ONLY BECAME AWARE that she’d staggered back a step when Duchess and Xander steadied her. The jolt of shock and pain at being ordered away from a peristil by a priest stole her voice for a moment.
She felt a prickle of power from her left as Xander bristled and stepped forward, standing half in front of her.
“Now just a bleedin’ minute, mate—” he began, his tone low and menacing.
He was interrupted when two things happened simultaneously. A low rumble tickled at the edges of Oksana’s awareness, and the houngan turned, addressing the crowd at large as he bellowed, “Get. Out!”
Duchess’ hand clenched around Oksana’s shoulder. “Can you feel that?” she asked; then she raised her voice, as well. “Earthquake! Everyone get outside!”
“Shit,” Xander cursed, barely audible. He and Oksana added their voices to the call, ordering people outside in French and Creole.
To their credit, the people of Haiti were well acquainted with earthquakes. Despite the revelry of the dancing and drumming, it took only moments for the crowd to heed the cry and hurry into the street outside. The rumble grew into full-scale trembling just as the three vampires followed the last of the people from the peristil into the open.
Oksana steadied herself as the earth bucked and rolled in waves, relying on vampirically enhanced balance to overcome the disadvantage posed by her prosthesis. The pulses of energy as the earth’s crust slipped against itself jarred her preternatural senses, making her clench her jaw against a wave of nausea.
Around her, people cried out in fear, more of Port-au-Prince’s residents spilling onto the road rather than risk staying under a roof that might fall on their heads. The quaking went on for a little over a minute before subsiding, leaving Oksana feeling like she needed a moment to get her land-legs back.
She swallowed and looked around, her night vision allowing her to see her surroundings despite the lack of light. Many of the mud and plaster walls on the buildings around them were cracked, but none appeared demolished. Some of the mismatched tin from the peristil roof had come partially free from the rafters and was hanging over the edge of the roof. A couple of the wooden posts that supported the open-air structure were off-kilter, but had not snapped.
“It wasn’t a bad one,” she said aloud.
“Bad enough,” Duchess replied. “It doesn’t look like anyone here is hurt beyond cuts and grazes from falling down, though.”
Xander’s mouth was a grim line. “I need to get access to a data link. Find out if there’s a tsunami warning for the area.”
He pulled out a mobile and flicked the screen-lock. Oksana and Duchess followed suit.
“Nothing,” Oksana said, unsurprised.
“The satellite phone is back at the hotel,” Xander said. “But we’re too close to the beach for comfort here.”
“Right,” Oksana agreed, and switched back to Creole. “Everyone! Get your families, grab whatever you need, and head for higher ground in case a big wave comes! Don’t risk yourselves by staying here. Spend the night in the highest place you can find and come back when it’s safe!”
There was muttering as the frightened people around them debated the merits of leaving their homes unprotected overnight, but several other people lifted their voices in support.
“She’s right! Don’t risk it…”
“Be quick and we’ll all go together.”
“Yes, let’s do it.”
Convinced that most of them, at least, would do the smart thing, Oksana gestured for her companions to follow her into the shadows where they could transform unseen into mist, and fly back to the hotel rather than waste time walking. As she turned to go, however, running footsteps approached.
The smell of sweat, antiseptic, and human fear teased Oksana’s nostrils. The sound of a pounding heart driving blood through arteries in a frantic rush reached her ears an instant later. A young woman with dark skin and close-cropped black curls burst into their midst. As she clutched a stitch in her side with one hand, she began pointing urgently back up the road down which she had just come with the other.
“What is it?” Xander asked in French, moving forward to stand in front of her.
“Help us!” she gasped, taking huge, deep breaths. “Hurry, please! A roof collapsed and children are trapped inside!”
Duchess was off in the direction the girl had come from before the echo of the final word faded. Xander shot Oksana a dark look. They followed, keeping pace with the young woman, who ran as fast as she could even though she was still gasping for air and clutching her aching side.
Oksana took care on the uneven footing of the pockmarked dirt road, feeling the compressed power of her flexible Cheetah foot propel her effortlessly forward with every stride. She judged that their destination couldn’t be far, given how quickly the girl had arrived after the trembler subsided. They were re-entering the area of abandoned warehouses and factories, some of which had obviously been turned to other purposes since the economic downturn.
One of those buildings had a collapsed wall, with the heavy roof lying over it in a twisted pile of wood and metal. Adults in medical scrubs scrambled over the scene with flashlights and kerosene lanterns, prying up pieces of tin and pulling bloody, crying children form the rubble.
“What can we do?” Duchess called, grabbing the arm of a woman trying to rush past with an armful of towels.
“The roof collapsed before we could get everyone out! We’ve got about fourteen children trapped inside,” she snapped in reply, already pulling free to continue toward the building.
“We’ve got recent experience with search and rescue. We can help you get them out,” Xander told her, as they followed her to the collapsed section.
Too right we’ve got recent experience, Oksana thought grimly. I’m still finding bits of radioactive rubble in odd places after Damascus.
They hurried after the woman, to a side of the building where the wall was leaning over. Soft whimpers could clearly be heard, coming from the dark gap beyond.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Oksana called into the hole, which looked big enough for her to fit through. Just.
A strangled cry of fear emerged in response.
“Eniel!” A strong male voice came from behind Oksana, woven through with an Australian accent. “Hang on, Eniel. We can hear you. You’re going to be all right!”
Oksana turned to see a man perhaps an inch or two taller than Xander, with intense blue eyes and tousled, light brown hair. He, too, was wearing scrubs, though they were dirt-smeared and bloodstained.
“We need to get him out quickly. I don’t know how stable this section is,” the man said in a low tone, not blinking at the sudden appearance of three strangers at the scene. It was obvious that his entire focus was on rescuing the trapped children, and everything else was secondary. “I was just trying to find some rope in hopes of feeding it through the gap to him and pulling him out,” he continued, “but everything remotely useful seems to be buried.”
Oksana felt an odd little jolt in her belly at the man’s single-minded focus on the boy’s safety. “Well,” she told him, “it’s a good thing you have someone small enough to squeeze through the gap, in that case.”
Duchess’ bright eyes landed on her, and the other vampire’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure, ma petite? You and small spaces are not the best of friends. I might be able to fit.”
Oksana looked at the gap again. Duchess was all voluptuous curves where Oksana was slender lines, and frankly, she doubted it would work. Before she could say so, the Australian spoke again.
“You’re claustrophobic?” he asked. “If so, you shouldn’t go. We’ll find somebody else. Joni could probably get in. She’s around here somewhere, I think—”
&n
bsp; “No,” Oksana said, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I can handle it. Though I may need someone to help pull us out afterward if it’s too tight for me to turn around inside.”
And I may also need someone to give me a mental smack if my brain decides to go stupid on me—since I am, in fact, claustrophobic, she added silently.
On it, Xander assured.
Of course, said Duchess, adding, Be careful, petite soeur.
“Okay. I’ve got this,” Oksana said. “Oh—and in case it’s not self-evident,” she added, glancing at the Aussie’s arresting blue eyes, “Don’t pull on the left foot when it comes time to drag me back out. It comes off.”
The barest hint of humor touched the man’s face, transforming it into something beautiful in the light of the sputtering lanterns before it settled once more into worried lines.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll make sure to leave you a leg to stand on. You can trust me—I’m a doctor.”
The last was added with a wink so quick she wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it. Then his focus was back on the hole, his flashlight directed inside.
“Eniel,” he called, “someone’s coming in to get you. She’ll be with you in just a minute. Don’t be afraid!”
He glanced at Oksana and she was caught yet again by the intensity behind his stormy eyes. Tearing herself away, she crouched down and eased onto her stomach, wincing a bit as rocks and pieces of debris poked at her through her thin black t-shirt.
She took a deep breath, purposely not focusing on exactly what she was about to do, and army-crawled through the tiny gap under the roof. The cries of fear from within had subsided to muffled sobs, as if Eniel was trying desperately not to let the sound of his weeping be heard.
Oksana took a couple of steadying breaths and used her knees and elbows to propel herself forward. The dirt beneath her collected against her shirt as she scooted further into the gap, some of it getting inside the low scoop of the shirt’s neckline, where it made her skin itch.
She coughed, eyes watering as dust swirled in her face. “I’m almost there,” she croaked, hearing the boy’s racing pulse only a few feet ahead. “Talk to me so I can find you more easily.”
Of course, to her enhanced senses his heartbeat, thrumming blood, and warm body were like a beacon in the low light, but he didn’t need to know that. Talking would—hopefully—keep him calmer and listening to him would—hopefully—keep her attention on the here-and-now rather than on a part of the distant past better left buried.
Buried. Ha.
“Please,” a small voice begged in Creole. “Please, hurry…”
Of course, that was the moment when the spring-loaded epoxy arch of her prosthesis managed to get hooked around something, halting her forward progress. As soon as she felt the constriction of her left leg, coupled with the darkness and sensation of walls all around her, her thoughts crashed down around her like falling icicles.
She was trapped… trapped underground… her foot… what had they done to her foot?
Oksana! Her name was a sharp bark inside her mind, piercing through the momentary confusion.
It was Xander. She blinked rapidly, trying to reorient herself in the present. She was in Haiti, yes, but this small, dark space was a collapsed building, not a—
She cut the thought off harshly.
Focus, mon chou, Duchess said in her mind.
I’m all right, she sent back to them. My Cheetah just got hooked on something. She backed up a couple of inches and twisted her leg until she felt the prosthesis come free from whatever it had been stuck on. I’m free now.
“Where are you?” called Eniel. “I can hear you but I can’t see you!”
There was a movement in the darkness ahead of her. She reached out with all her senses, and the darker shadow coalesced into a child. Male. Young. She could smell his blood in the air and knew that he was injured.
“It’s all right. I can see you now,” she told him. To the others, she called, “I see him! He’s hurt—I’m not sure how badly.”
“Can you get him out?” The Australian doctor’s voice came back immediately.
Of course, there was no way to know until she got a better idea of the boy’s circumstances, but she hadn’t crawled in here just to fail. “I’ll get him,” she replied with certainty.
She crawled forward the last couple of feet, the space ahead of her opening into something a little less confining. She reached out, feeling around the debris and broken glass until her fingers grazed warm skin. The boy caught his breath in surprise at her touch.
“There you are,” she said, keeping her voice calm and friendly. “Your name is Eniel, right? I’m Oksana.”
Hesitation followed her question, the silence stretching between them. Finally, a small voice answered, “Call me San.”
Her brow furrowed in surprise. San, as in the Creole word for blood? She shook off the moment of confusion. It was hardly relevant in their current circumstances.
“Sure thing, San,” she said. “Now, what do you say we get out of here? I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the sky right about now.”
“I can’t see anything,” the boy said. “I don’t know how to get out.”
Oksana silently cursed herself for not having brought a flashlight. She might not need it, but it would have been reassuring for Eniel—or San, as he apparently preferred.
“That’s okay,” she said, “I can see a bit. I know the way out. Can you crawl toward me while I crawl backwards toward the gap?”
Another pause, and Oksana worried that perhaps the boy was pinned by a fallen beam or something. When he answered, his words took her by surprise.
“You… won’t hurt me?”
Oksana caught her breath, half from her own reaction to the unexpected question, and half at Duchess’, who had obviously been eavesdropping through their link.
Why would he think you would hurt him? Duchess’s words were low and dangerous.
Rescue now. Questions later. That was Xander, and when Xander was acting as the voice of reason, it was definitely time to regroup.
I heard that, came his mental growl.
She ignored him in favor of reassuring the frightened boy. “No, I won’t hurt you, San,” she said, putting a bit of will behind the words to calm him into compliance. “Let’s you and I get out of here. Can you crawl?”
The pause this time was shorter. “Yes.”
“Follow me, then,” she instructed, and started to shimmy backward, his small hand grasped in hers. To her relief, he followed.
She continued to push herself the way she came with an awkward hitching motion, feeling claustrophobia threaten once more in the suffocating stillness of the tight space. She focused on the boy whose hand she clasped; the last thing he needed was for the stranger helping him to lose her shit and start gibbering about being trapped.
Hang in there. Xander again. We can almost reach you—just a little further and I’ll help pull you out.
“We’re getting close,” she told the boy. Light from outside filtered through the hole behind her, illuminating his frightened face. He had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding freely, but he seemed otherwise unhurt. He did not meet her eyes even though there was enough light now for him to see, his gaze darting around the tunnel instead.
Hands grabbed her right ankle and she gasped, even though she’d had ample warning.
Easy, ma petite, Duchess reassured her.
“Okay,” Oksana said, “They’re going to pull me out, and I’ll pull you. Just hold on, San.”
He nodded, wide-eyed, just as Xander tugged her backward. She gripped his hand harder and pulled him after her as they passed through the gap and into the gloriously fresh air.
Well… maybe not fresh. The air actually still smelled like garbage and fish, but compared to the stifling, dusty atmosphere inside the collapsed building, it was heavenly.
Once the child was free of the building, Oksana rolled into a sitting
position and coughed, rubbing at the dirt on her face.
“Hmm, that’s actually not a half bad look for you,” Xander said, gaining his moment of revenge for her quip earlier. He, of course, looked enviably unruffled even after having dragged her out of the rubble.
“Thanks for that,” she grouched, still trying to brush herself off. And—yes—there was, in fact, gravel inside her sports bra now. Brilliant.
Duchess knelt on the ground next to her and reached out a hand to help Eniel sit up. He recoiled from her and looked around with wide eyes.
“Let me take a look at the cut on your head,” Duchess said in a gentle voice. “I won’t touch it, just let me see.”
His red-rimmed eyes glared out from a tear-streaked face, but he turned his head toward her grudgingly. Xander fished his phone out of his pocket and shined the light on the boy’s forehead. The blue-eyed doctor leaned in and examined the injury under the light. The tension in his broad athlete’s shoulders eased slightly.
“I think you’re in luck, my young friend,” he said in a light voice, “this just needs cleaned and a couple of butterfly stitches.”
“Not lucky,” Eniel said in a low voice.
The man sighed and nodded. “Yeah, okay, maybe lucky isn’t the word. But the reality is, it could have been a lot worse.” He gestured for the woman who had been carrying the towels earlier to come over. “Natacha? Would you get Eniel here an antiseptic wipe and some butterfly strips for his head?”
The nurse nodded and hustled Eniel away, the boy casting glances over his shoulder as they left. Duchess rose smoothly to her feet, waving off the hand the doctor offered her. He lifted an eyebrow and met Oksana’s eyes, reaching for her hand instead. She smiled and took it, only to practically leap to her feet when a jolt of electricity sizzled from the point of contact straight to the base of her spine, lifting the hair at the back of her neck as it passed. She slammed her mental shields down so quickly that both Duchess and Xander gave her a questioning look.
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