Hard Days Night (The Firsts Book 8)

by C. L. Quinn

  He closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again. The house was still there, even though it couldn’t be. When he heard voices, he started towards the back, and when he recognized one of the voices as Mal’s, he broke into a run.

  Coming around the side to a wide deck on the back of the house, he almost stumbled when he saw her silhouetted in the doorway that led onto the deck built off of the house that shouldn’t be there.

  “Mal!” he yelled, because he could never have stopped himself. He saw her look up. She waved and called out.

  “Luka! I’m here!”

  He saw a big man standing beside her, one of his hands placed on her arm.

  Pulling his handgun out of his holster, he advanced slowly up the stairs, the gun pointed at the assailant holding his partner.

  Mal suddenly called out. “Luka, no! He’s a friendly.”

  After hesitating just a moment, he lowered his gun, but caution made him keep it in his hand, ready in case something wasn’t right here. He didn’t know how it could be. He’d cleared the steps and was within a few more of reaching Mal inside the doorway when something struck him in the back, once, twice, three times. There wasn’t time to think about what was happening. All Luka knew was that he couldn’t draw a breath and he was falling. He wanted to put his hands out to break his fall, but he couldn’t. He felt the impact of the hard wood of the deck on his cheek and his vision blurred.

  Then, only sounds…a sharp cry in the distance, footsteps, yelling, and then silence. Luka had lost consciousness. His last thought before he did, was that he was shot and wouldn’t be waking again.

  Mal heard the reports split seconds before she saw Luka fall forward, almost in slow motion, and crash to the deck just fifteen feet from her. She screamed his name as she began to run to him, but she didn’t move forward, and looked behind her to see Ahmose holding her arm.

  “No, don’t! Someone is still firing.”

  He was right. And not only that, there were shots coming from both sides of the deck.

  “I don’t care!” she yelled.

  “Stay here,” Ahmose said, and raced out of the house so quickly she barely saw him move. After he left, the gunfire stopped abruptly and she decided that her own safety was worth nothing if she let Luka lie there without help, so she ran out as quickly as she could to check on him.

  “Luka, Luka,” she said, as she gently rolled him over. The perfectly spaced deck boards, stained caramel by the house’s owners, were now stained red with Luka’s blood.

  “Oh, Luka,” Mal whispered, as she held his head in her hands. She knew gunshot wounds and his were probably fatal. She could see four entry wounds, two in the chest and two in the belly.

  Ahmose was back now and leaning over him. “I’m sorry, Mal. This is your partner?”

  Mal looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Luka. Yes. Will you call 911? I doubt they’ll make it, but maybe…” Her voice broke. “Maybe they can help him.”

  “No. He’s fatally wounded. I can feel his lifeforce leaving him. It’s too late for human medicine. Mal, let me have him.”

  She shook her head. “No. You can’t move him until the paramedics arrive!” Standing, Mal started towards the house and yelled back at Ahmose. “Don’t touch him!”

  Frantically, she looked around for her cell phone and finally found it lying near the sofa. She grabbed it and dialed the trio of emergency numbers.

  “Officer down. I need an ambulance immediately. Four gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen.”

  Tears were interfering now with her vision, but she looked up to see Ahmose carrying Luka into the house. Throwing her cell phone down, she raced towards him.

  “I told you not to move him!”

  “He wouldn’t make it. I think it’s too late, but I’m going to try to help him.”

  Mal began to yell at Ahmose when she watched him use his own teeth to tear open his wrist and he placed it over Luka’s mouth.

  “What are you doing?” she yelled, as she dropped onto her knees beside the two men.

  “I am attempting to use my blood to heal him. It can heal a human very quickly. But he’s pretty damaged, Mal, so it may not work.”

  She looked at Luka’s white face, then up at Ahmose. All this was so horrible, she didn’t know what to say.

  “What? Ahmose, stop. If he’s dying, then there’s nothing we can do. Ahmose, please, wait for the paramedics.”

  “I may be able to give him a chance.”

  “The ambulance will be here in a moment.”

  “No, they won’t. I spelled the house again, so they won’t find it.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Seeing Luka seemed to have cleared Mal’s head of some of the lunacy that struck her while she was trapped here.

  “I’m sorry. They’ll find us.”

  Luka gagged suddenly, drawing both Ahmose and Mal’s attention. His eyelids fluttered. Mal touched his forehead. “Luka, you hear me? Luka?”

  Her eyes shot to Ahmose. “He’s going to make it!”

  Ahmose could see the desperate need to believe that her partner would survive this attack. But he was too damaged for even vampire blood to heal. By the time the life-giving fluid would have a chance to repair the injuries, he would pass. False hope was never good.

  Lifting Mal from the floor by her upper arms, he made her look at him. “Mal, listen to me. He’s dying. I can’t repair his body quickly enough. I’m sorry.”

  Mal started to shake, her eyes bouncing around the room, searching for a way to fix this. Luka could not die! She refused to live in a world that didn’t include this man she loved like a brother.

  Her gaze shot back to Ahmose. She would clutch at anything, any possibility.

  “Convert him.”

  That she had asked that of him when he knew she didn’t really believe him surprised Ahmose.

  “Mal…”

  “Convert him. You said your blood can make anyone a vampire. If you did that, would it save his life?”

  Slowly, Ahmose nodded. “But he would have to give up everything he knows. A human, once converted, cannot live with humans anymore. He can’t be a police officer. You could never see him again.”

  “As long as he’s alive, I can handle that. Please, Ahmose. If any part of what you’ve told me is true, if there’s a chance of saving Luka, I beg you, you have to.”

  “It’s not that simple. People die, Mal, and we all know we can’t save everyone. Luka was shot to death, that’s just his fate. Besides, we are honor bound to make certain that becoming vampire is something the person really wants. I cannot ask him to obtain his agreement.”

  Mal drew a deep breath. “I know this man better than anyone on earth. When I tell you that he would choose this, to be alive, regardless of the consequences, as long as no one else has to suffer, he would choose to have you make him into a vampire.”

  Her plea was soul-deep. Ahmose could see in her eyes the level of love she had for this man. For a fraction of a moment, he felt jealous that this man was so deeply loved by this woman. What would it be like to have her love him so much?

  Was he considering it? He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to decide who lived and died. Yes, it was possible to convert this man and save him. That didn’t make it the right thing to do.

  Mal slipped her hand up Ahmose’s arms and curled her fingers around his biceps. She had watched him struggle with her plea for several minutes.

  “Ahmose, you said that people were converted to vampire for love. I promise you, this would be an act of pure love. This man is such a good man, the world would be lesser without him. You would take him to your Africa. I would miss him every second that my heart beats, but I would know that he was well. Please.” Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now. “Please.”

  Ahmose lifted his own hands to her face, his thumbs under her eyes, capturing her tears. “You make a case that the moon is in your pocket, and I would believe it. I cannot tell you no. I do t
his for you, not for him.”

  Shaking her head, Mal almost collapsed. Now that he had agreed, she wondered what had made her ask something so unbelievable of him. Desperation. Yes, but somehow, she found it inside of her to accept the possibility of the impossible.

  Chapter 7

  Picking Luka up easily in his arms, Ahmose took him to the room they’d slept in last night.

  “I will begin the conversion, but you need to procure restraints. Conversions are brutal, detective, and he will fight for release. It won’t help, the pain is absolute since the body is literally being torn apart and rebuilt.”

  “God,” Mal whispered.

  “You must get me very heavy-duty chains. Reinforced links, thick shackles, six inch bolts half an inch in diameter. Heavy loops to attach them to. Thick leather to protect his wrists and ankles from the metal. That’s all for now.”

  “Okay. I need to contact Captain Smith to clear the area. The shooters may still be out there.”

  “They’re not. I took care of one of them. I think he’s the one that shot your partner. There were others, but they were able to get away while I secured the first one.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “The one that shot your partner, I do not know. I suspect that the other set of shooters were the ones who shot me two nights ago and returned to finish the job. You can’t call the authorities. I won’t let them near anyway. Just get the things I asked for, please.”

  “All right. I’ll be back.”

  “I will unspell the house. When you return, call and I will allow you entrance. You understand that what we do must remain unknown. Do not think to apprise the local constabulary that you need help or try to bring anyone else here. Nod if you understand and agree.”

  “Damn, you sound like an attorney. Yes, I understand and agree. Just, Ahmose, save him.”

  Ahmose shook his head. “I cannot believe I am forcing a conversion.” But his expression softened and he reached out to fondle a long curl that had escaped the clip Mal had used to bind her hair up.

  “Go,” he said, quiet, but urgent.

  Mal turned and left immediately.

  On the side of the house, tied to a 4 x 4 post with a garden hose, Jinx’s feet barely touched the ground. How the hell he came to be here, he really didn’t know. He’d followed Luka around the edge of the house, realized that the cop Mal Kalani was at the back door, and made his way to the other side of the deck. It was the perfect scenario for completing his mission. Fire the fatal shots at Luka, thus delivering the message Canzone wanted delivered straight to her face, and escape to the street and his car before she realized what happened.

  Only the plan stopped right after he shot Luka dead, stowed the rifle on his back and began to go. Someone else was firing at him!

  He noticed two men on the opposite side of the deck, rifles raised, firing past where Luka lay. Almost crawling, he retreated back down the outside edge of the small house. And that was where he got confused.

  Because the next thing he knew, he was hanging here, dangling, his gun gone, and no way to get free.

  Moonpie was laughing his ass off. Generous tears ran down his face and he kept swiping at them with the nubby fingers of one hand and the tip of the barrel of his handgun with the other.

  “Fuck, that was crazy! Who the hell was that shooting at us?”

  “No idea. But we were outgunned. Whoever it was had serious artillery. We are never going to get an opening to take this vampire. Now, I think that maybe there’s someone else after him. If that’s the case, Claude needs to know.”

  “All I know is that was one great big mess! Two sets of shooters, I don’t even know who the guy was that got shot, and your big-ass vampire is still standing, head attached, and all. Your boss is gonna be pi-i-i-s-s-sed.”

  Cheeto was quiet now. Watching the road, his mind elsewhere, he swerved to avoid a bicyclist that was well-lit with front and back lights, and a full-body reflective suit.

  “Yeah, I gotta do this. I can’t fail this assignment, or there’ll be no more coming and this is my main job. Otherwise, I’m unemployable, Moonpie, you get me?”

  Moonpie did. He nodded, because he himself was kind of a one-trick-pony. He had tried several other jobs and they either didn’t suit him, he couldn’t master them, or people made fun of him. And he got fired.

  “Another day, then, okay, Cheet?”

  Mal hurried to Luka’s bike to get what Ahmose needed when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man hanging on the side of the house.

  What the fuck!

  When she turned to him, and saw who it was, her head spun.

  “Jinx?” she yelled and walked up to him. What the fuck was he doing here?

  “Could, uh, you let me down?” he asked after a few moments.

  Her brows drawn tightly together, Mal stared at him, confused. What the…

  Then it struck her like lightning…he was the one who shot Luka!

  “I’m going to kill you if he dies.” She was in his face, her breath hot on his. “And even if he doesn’t, don’t bet on your own survival.”

  “It wasn’t me. I mean, it was Canzone who ordered the hit. He’s the one you want. I don’t know why he has a thing for you, but he’s locked on you like a guided missile. Come on, I’m not your enemy.”

  “You shot my partner, you are my greatest enemy. You’re lucky I’m on a mission, or I think I’d kill you right here right now.”

  She nearly ran from him, afraid that one more second with him, she’d rip out his throat with her fingernails.

  The priority now was Luka, and she wouldn’t let herself become distracted. Afterward, Canzone could kiss his ass goodbye.

  She screamed, out loud to the wind that took her voice as she headed into town to find Ahmose’s list of items.

  “Canzone, wherever you are, it isn’t far enough. Your ass is mine!”

  With her skills and determination, Mal would run him down like the rabid dog he was. Luka, and she, would have their revenge.

  Ahmose continued the feed to save his new lover’s partner and make him vampire. He looked over the man who would be coming home with him to his village in Zambia. Handsome, big, he would make a fine vampire.

  Ahmose already knew Mal enough to know that if she loved this man enough to ask Ahmose to save him, he had to be a good man.

  It was enough for him, for now, to honor the promise.

  Luka was too weak to respond yet to the blood, but if he was going to survive at all, he should begin to fight the blood draw soon. Ahmose hadn’t told Mal that some people cannot convert, their bodies incapable of handling the catastrophic change of DNA. What would be the point? The man would survive, or he wouldn’t.

  Just as he thought this, Ahmose heard a low gurgle. Luka was choking on the blood, finally beginning to fight. Good news.

  Ahmose held Luka down as he struggled against him. It would be better for the writhing man when Mal arrived with the restraints, but Luka was as weak as a kitten against Ahmose’s superior strength. He held him easily as he thought about Mal.

  She didn’t know that she would never see Luka again, even though he had warned her that after conversion, he would have to give up everything he knew. That did include her.

  Once Luka was past danger, Ahmose would move them to his home in Zambia for safety. His own murder had been evidence enough that Lamont’s organization had found him and were still serious about eliminating his race.

  Before his daughter arrived, Ahmose hoped that he and a complement of highly motivated first bloods would end this threat forever.

  The ringer of his cell phone ended his reverie.

  “Hi. Yes,” he said, “Come in.” With a focused thought and a hand movement meant to do the same, he knew the house was now visible so Mal could come back in.

  “Hey,” she said, as she dragged an obviously heavy duffle bag through the doorway.

  Ahmose stood and walked over to easily pick the bag up and carry
it into the room.

  “Thank you. I’ll keep him here until I’m certain that he is going to survive, that the conversion is occurring, and then we’ll go.”

  Mal nodded and walked over to look at Luka, pale and gagging, on the floor, and winced at the blood that covered nearly every inch of his shirt.

  “He looks horrible.” It was the only thing she could think right now, other than wondering if she’d made a big mistake giving in to the desperate choice of believing that Ahmose could save him. Her reasonable self knew that he should be in a hospital. But her eyes moved to Ahmose’s forehead, and the fact that there had been a bullet hole in it two nights ago, and there was no evidence of it at all now, gave her the courage to see this through.

  “I saw the man you have tied up outside this house. You’re right, he’s the one who shot Luka. His name is Jinx, and he’s the henchman for a powerful businessman who threatened to kill everyone I love. I don’t know why, but the son-of-a-bitch has targeted me. Canzone won’t get away with this. When I get back to L.A., I’m going to get that asshole if it’s the last thing I do.” She paused. “It might be.”

  “Do you need my help?”

  “What? No. I’ll have the backing of everyone in my division. And I have Jinx now, so that’s one more bastard off the streets.”

  “Then I will leave tonight.”

  “You’ll go back to South Africa. Luka, too. I would like to fly with you.”

  He knew she would ask. It didn’t matter what he said now. “Okay.”

  Mal nodded. “Thank you, even if he doesn’t pull through. Thank you for trying. I don’t understand most of what has happened in this house for the past two days, but, for some strange reason I’ll never suss out, I trust you. And I’m grateful.”

  “You have been a delight. I wish we had more time, but things are happening too quickly. Mal,” Ahmose said, facing her.