Emmie’s voice is cold. “You work with the Hunters, against other vampires?”
Rafe’s smile is all fang. “Business makes strange bedfellows.”
The way he emphasizes bedfellows, the hungry way he eyes Emmie… A low growl escapes my throat.
Rafe straightens. “Did you have something to say?”
“Listen,” Emmie says quietly. “We didn’t mean to take up your time. You’ve clearly got a business to run. Luke and I will be getting off at the next—”
“The hell you will!” Rafe reaches across the bar so fast the motion blurs. He grabs me by the collar and hauls me up off of my stool until his face is only inches from mine. I can smell the rum on his breath. “Luke, is it? That’s not what you said when you came in.” Out of the corner of my eye I can see two big men rise from their seats. “I told the cops to stay out of my business. Maybe they’ll get the message when they find you at the bottom of the bay.”
There is a huge crash and an explosion of glass as Emmie breaks the rum bottle across the back of Rafe’s head. Rafe lets out a bellow of pain and rage as he lets go of my collar and I drop to the floor, the rum stinging in my eyes. “Run!” Emmie yells. “Run!”
I grab her hand and run. The crowd rips open before us, everyone staring as we pass, but Rafe is just a step behind us. He’s weaving with the force of Emmie’s blow, but still moving. Emmie is right behind me as we fling ourselves up the stairs.
“Stop them!” Rafe yells, and I remember the bouncer upstairs. Mierda! There’s no way I can take him in a fight. The man is twice my size. As I fling myself through the door to the hold, I reach up and grab one of the decorative cutlasses that hang above it. It certainly hefts like the real thing. I only hope it’s sharp.
A second later I have reason to test it: Emmie screams as Rafe grabs hold of her dress from behind. I turn and swing at the same moment, the cutlass slicing between Emmie and the vampire with just inches to spare. There’s a loud rip as the blade tears through the dress and Emmie falls forward onto the deck. Rafe half falls, half pounces on top of her, pinning her under him, her cheek pressed against the deck, his hands on either side of her head. “Hit me, will you?” He kicks Emmie’s legs wide and her dress rips again. He thrusts up against her, hard. “It’s a shame because we could have had fun.”
I bring the cutlass straight down hard from above. The tip sinks into the back of Rafe’s hand, pinning it to the deck. He bellows, clawing at the cutlass with his free hand as I haul Emmie out from under him. Rafe yanks the sword free. Now he’s injured, but armed. He scrambles half-way to his feet, swearing like the sailor he is, and makes another grab for Emmie, but she plants her cowboy boot on his chest and shoves. Slipping in the blood that slicks the deck, he stumbles backwards down the stairs, into the vampire pirate coming up.
“Together on three!” Emmie yells. She grabs hold of one side of the hatch door that covers the hold. I grab the other. “One, two… heave!”
It almost doesn’t go. Then it slams shut with such force it hits the vampire in the face. I hear him fall backwards down the stairs with a loud thunk.
“Quick, lock it!”
Emmie wedges the huge wooden latch into place, holding the door shut, and grabs the second cutlass from above the door. “Now run!”
“Where?” I yell back. “We’re on a boat!”
“That way!”
“Why?”
“Because he’s coming this way!”
I look and see the undead bouncer coming straight at us from the other side of the deck. I push Emmie behind me, putting myself between her and the mad bull. “Give me the sword!”
“No,” she shouts. “Duck!”
“Duck?”
Emmie reaches up with the cutlass and slashes at the rope above our heads. “Duck!”
She flings her arms around me and we both fall to the deck just as a huge mast beam swings free. It sweeps over us, catching the bouncer straight in the stomach and flinging him backwards. He hits the far railing of the ship like a boxer hits the ropes and lies slumped.
Emmie smiles at me. “I saw that in a movie once.”
I smile back. “Not bad.”
There’s a bang from the door of the hold. Someone is ramming it from the other side and the latch is about to give way.
Emmie dashes for the railing.
“What are you doing?” I yell.
“What does it look like?” She scrambles up onto the railing. “I’m gonna jump!”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding! We’ll swim!”
“Maybe you will,” I say, “but I don’t know how.”
Emmie looks at me, horrified. “Two hundred years and you never learned to swim?!”
I shrug. “The opportunity never came up.”
SLAM! The wooden latch splinters and the hatch on the hold bangs open. Angry vampires spill out like vomit from an open mouth.
“There has to be a dinghy!” I say.
“What the hell’s a dinghy?”
“This way!” We race down the deck, me peering over the edge into the dark water. Finally I spot it, a little row boat lashed to the side of the ship, half way down, directly between the water and us. There’s no time to haul it up. “There!” I say.
“Where?” Emmie’s night vision isn’t as good as mine. She squints over the edge of the boat.
“Trust me!” I grab her free hand and lift her over the side, keeping hold of her arm until she’s as close as I can get her to the dinghy. Then I let her hand slip through mine. I hear her yelp as she lands in the little boat, and the creaking sound as the dinghy shudders against the ship.
“How are you gonna get down?” Emmie calls up out of the darkness.
“Over there!” Someone yells and I know they’ve spotted me.
“Luke, quick!” Emmie’s voice is shrill with panic.
I swing myself over the edge and dangle. I can hear footsteps running towards us on the deck above and the sound of shouting voices. I let go and drop into the dinghy. My feet are on solid wood for just one second before it drops out from under me again: Emmie swings the cutlass, slashing the ropes that bind us. Throwing down the cutlass, she flings her arms around me and my stomach drops as the dinghy falls out from under us, hitting the choppy water so hard I’m afraid for a second we’ll go under. We both fall to our knees on the floor. A huge splash soaks us, water sloshes over my legs, but the little boat bobs back up, staying upright.
Above us, furious faces peer over the railing of the ship. People shout.
But all I can hear is Emmie laughing. She turns to me, her hair wild, her face flushed. Even in the dark, her eyes are bright with adrenaline. “You know,” she grins, “I think that went well.”
Chapter 16: Ander
“Wake up!” I shake Luke harder than I need to. “What are you, torpored? Get up!”
He opens one eye. “You do know I’m trying to sleep here, correct?”
I hold up the stake. “And I’m trying to hunt here, correct?”
Luke sits up in bed fast. (Well, at least the guy has some reflexes.) He eyes the stake warily. “I’m immortal.”
“Yeah,” I say, “but last time I checked, a werewolf could still tear you to shreds and a stake could put you down for the count.”—I pause to let that sink in—“But, it’s actually not you I’m hunting.” I flip the stake so it’s pointing away from him and hold it out for him to take. “We’re going to hunt enluzantes.”
He does that annoying eyebrow-arch thing. “You’re pronunciation is atrocious.”
“Yeah?” I say. “How do you pronounce dead vamp?”
He sighs. “Fine. En-loose-antees it is. Who is going?”
“You, me, and D.J.”
The eyebrow goes up another notch.
“Trust me,” I say. “I’d rather leave him out of it, too, but if your family really has found us, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“If my family really has found u
s,” Luke says, “we may be beyond all help.”
“Not if they’ve just sent a scout ahead. We might be able to take him out before he can report back, buy ourselves a little more time to move on. Besides, I’m taking you with me no matter what. I want you where I can see you.”
Luke crosses his arms over his chest. “I was just thinking last night how truly noxious it is when a vampire allies himself with Hunters to hunt other vampires.”
“Well,” I say, “lucky for you I’m not a Hunter.”
“D.J. still considers himself one.”
“D.J.’s my pack. He does as I say. And hunting down whoever killed that girl is our only way of knowing if it’s safe for us to say here.”
“And your only way of being sure Cicely isn’t the killer.”
I decide to ignore that. “Are you coming or what?”
“Right now?” Luke squints at the darkened window. “It isn’t even dark.”
“That’s the point, genius. If the vamps who killed that girl are enluzantes, they’ll still be hiding from the light. We’ll track them to their hiding place, then take them out while they’re cornered and sleepy.” I smile at him. “It’s pretty easy to take a vamp out when it’s tired.”
Luke sits up straighter. “I am perfectly awake. I simply got in late last night.”
My stomach clenches. Was he out hunting humans? There’s still a chance Luke is our killer. Or was he out with Cicely? Somehow that possibility is even worse, but I know in my heart there’s a chance it’s true. After all, Cissa was pretty pissed at me for not trusting her, and Luke did follow her out into the storm. The thought of Luke and Cissa together makes me want to ram this stake right up under his breast bone and twist, but I know I would kind of deserve it if Cissa gave up on me, considering how I keep screwing stuff up.
I try to keep my voice casual. “Got in late? Where were you?”
“Out.”
“With who? I mean, not like I care, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trying to track a killer here, so alibis are kind of important.”
“It’s with whom. Why is it Americans can’t speak English? And the answer is with Emmie, if you must know.”
“Emmie?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What were you doing? I mean, besides the obvious.”
“If, by the obvious you mean biting her, we did not do any of the obvious. We were visiting the local blood bar, looking for leads as to who might have killed the girl.”
Oh. That was actually kind of a good idea. “So,” I say, “how’d it go?”
Luke smiles. “It was… uneventful.”
“Sure,” I say. “That’s why you slept in your clothes. And there’s vampire blood all over them.”
“Well, I fully intend to change if you will get out of my room.”
“Fine, but meet me out front in ten minutes. We’re losing light.” I press the stake into his hand.
He takes it reluctantly, looking at it like he doesn’t think it’s much of a weapon. “Wonderful,” he sighs to himself. “I knew I should have kept the cutlass.”
Nine minutes later, Luke steps out the front door. (Well, the guy is punctual, I’ve gotta give him that). D.J. and I are already waiting on the wet lawn. The evening is cold and our breath sends little smoke signals up into the growing dusk. “You ready?”
“Yes.” Luke looks infinitely more awake than he did a few minutes ago. Now he’s on alert.
“D.J.?”
“I’m always ready to kick some vampire ass.” D.J. shoots Luke a look.
I give him a look back. “Luke’s with us on this, right? So don’t give him any crap. Now, do you have your potion?”
“Yes.” D.J. pats the potion bottle clipped to his jeans and gives me a sullen look. He’s been giving me a lot of those lately, and I know I need to put him in his place like an alpha should. The kid’s been through a lot and I feel for him, but it makes me too easy on him sometimes, makes me give in to him on stuff when I should maybe say no.
Like letting him come along today: he begged so hard, I couldn’t leave him behind, but, much though I hate to admit it, Luke is right: bringing D.J. is a major risk. He’s been moody and volatile ever since the full moon, even worse than I thought he would be. Was I this bad off after my first change? I can’t remember. I’ve blocked it all out.
Well, maybe hunting will give him an outlet.
“We start with the woods,” I say. “There’s enough shadow in there for them to hide, and if they’re casing the house I want to know it.”
I look up at Cicely’s window. She isn’t watching from there, of course. The sky is still too light. But maybe she’s watching at the mirror. I hope she sees me out trying to find the real killer. I hope she understands I want to keep us safe, and clear her name. I hope she gets I’m still trying.
The three of us set off into the woods, D.J. and I taking the lead, Luke following us like a shadow. I keep thinking I catch whiffs of vamp on the wind, but I can’t be sure, because it seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, shifting with the breeze. It could be real—or it could be my anxious imagination. We’re all on edge, D.J. especially. He keeps dashing ahead of us and back again, his eyes darting to the deepening pockets of darkness around us. The sun is going down and the woods are striped with shadows, every little tide pool of blackness a potential hiding place for the undead.
But no undead come. We reach the other side of the woods without finding any definite trail.
“Whoever they are,” I say, “they’re steering clear of the house.”
“The girl was killed in town.” Luke looks doubtfully down the shoreline, towards the lights of Brave Boat Harbor, just winking on for the night. “Maybe we should go there.”
“No,” D.J. says quickly, “this way!” He’s staring the other way, down the abandoned stretch of beach, like a pointer dog on a trail.
I test the breeze for the scent, but get nothing. “I can’t smell it.”
“You can’t?” D.J. looks at me surprised. “I’m sure I smelled vamp.”
I turn my body, trying to tune into the scent like it’s a far away station on a radio dial, but still don’t get much. Maybe a ghost of a whiff, but it’s gone stale. “You sure you smell it?”
But there’s no mistaking the manic glint in D.J.’s eyes. He’s worked up. Maybe I’m out of practice as a hunter. Maybe too much time with vamps has dulled me to the scent.
I look at Luke. He shrugs. “Lead the way, Deej,” I say.
D.J. takes off like a dog that’s been let off-leash, sprinting down the gray slice of sand. The water is choppy, the breeze uneven, first blowing one way, then suddenly shifting to another. It’s making me uneasy. Or maybe D.J.’s nervous excitement is contagious. I think to remind D.J. to take another hit of potion, but he’s already too far ahead of us to hear, and I don’t want to yell and let something know we’re coming.
If there’s anything up there. I still don’t smell it, although this would be a perfect place to hide. This stretch of beach is undeveloped. No houses interrupt the ragged shoreline. Gray outcroppings of granite like sleeping wolves shield it from view of the town. Any monster could be hiding back here.
D.J. waits for us in the shadow of the stones. Luke trots to catch up with him as I turn to survey the way we came. No tracks in the sand but ours.
“You really think there’s a vampire back here?”
There’s a sudden, strangled cry from behind me. I spin around.
D.J. is partially turned, his monstrous face smiling at me from the shadows. He’s holding Luke’s limp form up by the neck.
“Yup,” D.J. says. “But I got it.”
Chapter 17: Cicely
I wake up as the last rays of the sun are fading. I can’t see them, of course—the blanket is still firmly tacked down over the window—but I can feel the dangerous daylight retreating like the tide and the safety of the night coming on. I must have slept through the day, I guess, although I find that hard to believe, considering how my mi
nd has been whirring. My thoughts are a chaos of images: the way Ander looked at me when the cop said someone had been killed; the feel of Luke’s lips on mine in the beach house; the way the dead boy’s eyes looked, crusted with sand…
Did I dream anything more? I don’t think so. I pick through my mind for memories of dreams, turning over my thoughts the way the gulls flip over rocks on the beach and wait for the crabs to scuttle out.
Nothing comes. I can’t remember any dreams at all.
Well, that’s a good thing. If my dreams aren’t really dreams, then no dreaming means no killing. Maybe asking Emmie to lock me in was the right thing to do.
Of course, my innocence is only proven if someone got killed while I was locked in my tower. I shiver and pull the faded quilt tighter around me. The thought of finding another dead body makes my stomach turn, even as the thought of blood makes my throat feel dry. It’s like I have two minds and they’re always at war: the part of me that can’t stand to think of someone dying, and the part that only feels alive when I think of blood; the part that wants someone to have died so I know I’m innocent, and the part that understands all that would prove is a killer is still out there on the loose. What’s more frightening, knowing there’s a monster inside you, or knowing there’s one out in the night?
The question makes me think of Ander. I don’t want things to be the way they are between us. I feel our chances of being together slowly slipping away, fading like the day. What if we have to leave and Ander chooses to stay here with D.J. and Naomi? Will that be it for us, the end, even after everything we’ve been through? I can’t accept that. I have to talk to him tonight, try to sort things out.
But I can’t walk into it blind. I have to know what’s going on with him first.
I turn on the little antique lamp, pull my quilt around me and climb out of bed. My attic room may technically be my prison, but it’s starting to look like home. I’ve pushed most of the boxes aside and uncovered a couple of the chairs. The slanted ceiling above my bed is covered with Polaroid pictures, a few I’ve taken myself and a bunch Emmie took for me during the day, little squares of sunlit life for me to keep. I look them over as I pull off my sleep sweats and pull on jeans and a t-shirt and my big black hoodie and lace up my boots.
Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles) Page 15