Chapter Nine
Seb took my elbow and ushered me toward the door. On the way, he stopped, gazing into a display case. “Is that a snap gun?”
I peered into the case. Seb pointed to a glue gun with a pump handle like a grease gun. “What’s a snap gun?”
“Also called a lock-pick gun.” Bruno hustled over to the display, wearing his retail face. “Pops the tumblers auto-magically. That’s a brand-new model. Just came in.” He took out the gun and fitted a long needle to the nozzle end.
“I could use a new snap gun,” Seb mused.
“Can’t beat the price. Want to give it a try?” Bruno offered the gun and a demo doorknob to Seb.
“Yeah, actually.” He took it, slid the needle end into the knob’s keyhole, and pumped. A couple clicks later, he opened it.
“Cool,” I said. “Can I try?”
Seb gave me a quick tutorial, and I was popping locks in no time.
“I’ll take it.”
“You got it, Mr. Rikare.” Bruno boxed the thing and, another card transaction later, I followed Seb out, box tucked safely into my backpack.
Seb started south, toward Main Street.
I had to hurry to keep up. “Are you going to check out Bruno’s alibi? Because I’m sure he’s not involved in the murders.”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you.” Seb slowed to a more comfortable pace. “I need to check all leads.”
“Then we’re headed for Dawn Truck Lines?” I shuddered. The long-haul trucking company, owned by and employing many sun-shy vampires, ran their freight at night. Their tag line was “When It Absolutely Has To Be There By Dawn.”
Derek worked there. I didn’t want to meet up with my ex.
“Eventually. Tonight, I think we’d better return to Otto’s.”
At the reprieve, my step lightened. “Why?”
“Things feel off.” He stopped mid-sidewalk with a roll of shoulders.
My own tension came back. I stopped beside him. “Off, how?”
“Nitrous oxide can be used to deliver toxins.” His mouth thinned. “Like dirty bombs.”
“Dirty bombs?” I might have yelped it.
“I thought this was just about murder. I thought I knew who was behind the murders. Now I’m not so sure. I need a good night’s sleep to clear my head. We’ll begin again in the morning.” He started up again.
It took me a moment to digest what he’d said, and I had to trot to catch up.
“What do you mean, start in the morning? You guys can’t stand sun. Well, except for brief periods.”
“I’m old enough that I can take a bit more than most. In New York, with taxis and the subway, I’m able to cut exposure to the minimum. Here, well, I’ll just have to periodically duck into buildings. Since there’s no subway or taxi service.”
“We have a taxi. A guy with a VW Beetle. Why didn’t you get a rental car?”
“As my lover, you’d have told me that in Meiers Corners, we walk.”
“You did your research.” He was right. In most any other burg, calling a taxi or taking a car or bus was a reasonable assumption. Hell, in most places, folks took a car just to get from one end of a strip mall to the other. Here, walking wasn’t merely a citywide pastime; it was proof of strength and stamina.
As we walked, he eyed the swinging street light decorations, which along here was alternating pretzels with beer signs. “You have an…interesting city.”
“It’s not my city. Not anymore. I’m a New Yorker now.”
“You live in New Jersey, right? Strictly speaking, you’re a New Jerseyan.”
“Isn’t it New Jerseyite?”
“Not officially, no.”
I was almost enjoying our banter when, across the street in Good Shepherd’s empty parking lot, the shadows stirred.
A gang of vampires bled from the black night like oozing death.
Seb stopped, his arm shooting out in front of me like a safety bar.
My breath iced. I glanced around. The streets were empty of support. Hell, anyone still up at this hour would be having fun at a bar, not going to church. And on our side of the street, a local daycare, craft store, and a couple other daytime businesses were all shut up tight.
No people—except behind us, in a second-story flat over the daycare, a curtain flicked as if someone was peeping.
Please call 9-1-1.
“What do you want?” Seb growled.
The lead vampire’s eyes burned red, his half-inch-long fangs glinting in the streetlight. He rapped a thick metal pipe against an open palm. As he moved into the light, it revealed a heavy growth on his upper lip that was less mustache and more nose ferret. “You.”
“Me?” Seb twitched, his version of surprise. “Why?”
Maybe a dozen henchfangs fanned out to either side of Ferret-mustache-guy, a variety of thuggish mutts, wiry meth-heads, and a pair of cowboy-wannabes.
My martial arts training allowed me to recognize Seb’s deadly stillness. All the truly dangerous fighters at my dojang had it. The fact that he’d first pulled out his fighting face now hammered home how dangerous these guys were. I had to take them seriously despite the Charlie’s Angels poses.
My heart kicked into racing terror.
“Why? Our boss wants to see you.” The leader fondled his pipe. “Come with us. If you don’t make trouble, we won’t harm the girlie.” He leered at me. “Just drink and fuck her a little.” He laughed. “We’ll even let you have a sip.”
I bristled, less at the threat of violence than the demeaning “girlie.”
Seb didn’t even dignify the jerk with an answer to that. “Neither of us is going anywhere with you, not with threats. Let us pass.”
In response, the leader waved a pair of fingers at his crew, then us.
The two cowboy-wannabes eased out of line.
One affected a bowlegged stance, and the other was lidded with the traditional black hat set at an angle no real cowboy would be caught dead in.
Despite the corny getups, they were mean and strong looking.
Black Hat gave Seb a fangy grin and dove for him—just as Bowlegs danced past Seb’s sightline to attack the special agent’s blind side.
…
Seb relaxed into the zone as the vampires attacked. He didn’t know why they wanted him, but he wasn’t going to let himself be captured just to find out.
Not with Brie here. Vulnerable.
At the thought, his heart pumped once in fear. He shoved it ruthlessly down. Emotions slowed him, made him indecisive and weak.
He’d structured his life to do the job, save lives—without all the emotional baggage.
If not for the twitch of curtain upstairs, he’d have fanged up. A human is watching. As long as he could, he’d preserve his cover.
Besides, the leader was almost laughable, with his mustache straight out of a seventies porn flick. Still, Seb would bring his A-game to the fight, and if Brie was in even the slightest danger, cover be damned. He’d transform himself into battle mode in an instant, fanged, clawed, his vision sharpened and his skin hardened to thick plates like hammered steel.
Or even shoot the fuckers with his silver bullets. He’d hold off on that for now. It might make them sizzle a bit.
He did wonder how these rogues knew he was a vampire. We’ll even let you have a sip. They didn’t seem the sharpest knives in the drawer, especially if they thought they could kidnap or coerce him. Their boss must be the brains of the gang.
Could he also be the brains behind the murders?
Seb didn’t like that idea. It would mean the hunted knew the hunter was here.
The one in the black hat launched himself. The other vampire used the attack to camouflage his own move into Seb’s periphery. As if that would work.
Seb twisted, back and to the right, hunching as if he was frightened. Instead, he planted his left foot and used his momentum, swinging his body like a teeter-totter, to send his right leg flying into the air. Completing the spin, he hooked his leg and brought his foot sharply across and down.
Spinning a tornado of a hook kick through the vampire’s head. The vampire’s skull wobbled, and the black hat went sailing off.
Seb had only used a human amount of strength. Even so, when a sledgehammer went through a young vamp’s skull, he went down. The vampire crumpled to the ground.
Brie edged toward the other goon, the bowlegged one.
Seb froze, fury whooshing through him like a grain fire. How dare she put herself in danger?
The vampire only laughed and crooked his finger at her, a nonverbal Do your worst.
Brie’s mouth tipped in a grim smile.
Seb read her intentions in that smile, and fear ripped him in two. “Get back,” he thundered.
She’d already launched a carefully aimed kick—nailing the bowlegged thug in the gap between his thighs.
Vampires were more sensitive than humans, every bit of their bodies more open to pleasure—and pain.
With a sick moo, the goon crumpled to his knees. Brie pumped a fist in the air. “Score one for the girlie.”
“Show off,” Seb murmured at her. Inside, he lit with pride for her.
The mustachioed vampire snarled and waved forward one of the other thugs. The goon leaped into the fray, raking sharp claws toward Seb.
Seb could’ve simply done an axe kick through the vampire’s skull, but something made him want to show off for her in return.
He let the vampire hook claws into his shirt. Brie cried his name. Seb only grinned. Gotcha. The vamp tugged on the shirt to reel him in.
At which Seb gave a tiny twist—and the shirt ripped. As the vamp tugged harder, the shirt ripped more. Seb turned away, the vamp kept pulling, and the shirt continued to rip.
The vampire bleated a frustrated, “Fight, damn you!”
Pantomiming a human, frantically trying to escape, Seb twisted away, tearing the shirt in one long strip like he was an apple getting peeled. When there was a good length—and Seb’s torso was nearly naked—he grabbed his end, stepped in, and wrapped the strip around the vamp’s wrists, once, twice, as fast as the blink of an eye. On the third wind, he yanked the strip tight, trapping the vamp’s claws long enough to get in close enough to do actual damage.
He threw his whole body behind an elbow smash to the face.
The vampire was strong, but Seb outweighed him by fifty or sixty pounds. Plus, he was at least a foot taller and gravity gave him extra force.
Even playing human, Seb’s smash forced the vamp to stagger.
Seb followed up with an uppercut hard enough to send the thug airborne. The shirt between them tore completely. It left him free and the vamp stunned and open. Having gotten the idea from Brie, Seb’s groin kick lifted the vamp into the air, so high even the other vampires seemed impressed.
The thug landed in a tight fetal position on the street. He didn’t even moo.
“Show off,” she muttered in return, trying to hide the smile on her face.
“How dare you?” the leader’s mustache writhed as he roared the words. He charged.
Seb fell back, arms extended, to protect Brie.
She pushed his arm aside. “I’ve got this.” She stepped into the mustachioed leader’s charge with a small can raised.
“Pepper spray? That won’t do anything.” Terror for her clutched Seb’s stomach. “Get back,” he roared—just as she released a spray into the leader’s mustache.
He screamed, high pitched, both hands smacking over his face, and came to a dead stop.
The gang, at their leader’s screams, surged forward. Brie’s little can wouldn’t cover them all. Seb readied himself to throw aside his disguise and fight the vampires as the ancient he was.
Then the gang leader collapsed to his knees on the pavement, hands clasped desperately to his face. His shrieks fell to pained sobs, and red tears ran from beneath his hands. His thugs’ charge broke off in confusion. They circled around him, growing concern on their faces.
The vamp’s hands slid from his face. Quickly, Seb put himself between the vampire and the observer behind the curtain.
The leader’s skin was bubbled and charred like the fire-melted celluloid of a movie film. Half of his mustache was gone, the other half dangling.
“What is that?” Seb glanced at Brie, heart in his throat, not sure if he was horrified or amazed.
“Sera gave it to me.” She grinned. “When I moved to the big city. Sorry it took me so long to remember I had it in my backpack.”
It took Seb a moment. Then he croaked, “Silver?”
“And garlic juice. But it’s the silver that makes it pricy.”
Sobbing, the leader staggered to his feet and stumbled back through his gang. Fear lighting their faces, his gang grabbed him, a couple more grabbed their wounded, and the whole lot took off.
“Idiots,” Brie said. “As if they could force you to go anywhere. Even fighting for an audience.” She glanced up at the window where the curtain jerked before falling back in place. “Those jerks were outclassed. You were amazing.”
“You, too. Silver dust and garlic juice.” Seb shook his head, staring blackly at the disappearing gang, his heart rate still stratospherically high. He never wanted to be that scared again.
“Yeah. Too expensive to waste on the ferret ’stache, but I was mad—”
“You’re beautiful.” Seb grabbed Brie, needing to have her safe in his arms. Not that she needed his protection. She handled things herself, brilliantly. His chest filled with pride, and he parted his lips to tell her just how incredible she was.
No, he’d show her, the way his pounding blood demanded. He kissed her, trying to express with his touch everything that lay hidden in his heart.