13 Bullets

"Arkeley," she said, "oh God, it's Arkeley. You've killed him." She had already known that he was dead, had already accepted it but this-this was proof. Tears shot out of her eyes and splashed on her shirt.



"Oh, there's plenty of life left in him yet," Scapegrace announced. "There had better be." The half-deads shrunk away from the coffin and she understood intuitively. When they attacked her house they had been under Scapegrace's orders to take both cops alive. Caxton so she could be turned into a vampire, and Arkeley so Scapegrace could torture him to death for what he'd done to Reyes and Congreve and Lares and Malvern and every vampire he could get his hands on. Hazlitt touched the Fed's throat. "He still has a pulse. It's thready but it's strong. And he's definitely breathing. Unconscious, though."



Scapegrace smiled. "So let's wake him up." He stepped over to the dangling body and took Arkeley's left hand in his own. He stroked the blood-stained skin for a moment, then lifted the hand to his mouth and with one quick motion bit off all four fingers down to the palm.



Fresh blood poured out of the wounds and mingled with the blood in the coffin. Arkeley's eyes flicked open and a mewling, cat-like sound sagged out of his chest. He sucked in a horrible breath that caught on something broken inside of him and then he moved his lips as if he was trying to speak. Caxton couldn't hear anything, though.



Scapegrace spat the severed fingers into Malvern's coffin. They sank into the blood without a trace. "What's that, Deputy? Speak up."



"Spuh," Arkeley rasped. It sounded like two pieces of paper being rubbed against each other. "Spesh."



"Special Deputy," Caxton said for him. A kind of gruesome smile, but yes, an actual smile appeared on the Fed's upside-down face.



"Cax," Arkeley sputtered. "Caxt-you. You knee." He took another grating breath. "Need to..." He couldn't seem to finish his thought.



Scapegrace didn't like it at all. He reached for Arkeley's other hand. "Do you have something more to say?" he asked. "Some last kind word for your young friend here? You've failed her, old man. She's going to die, you're going to die. Everyone is going to die. You've failed everybody. Maybe you'd like to say you're sorry. Go ahead. Whisper in her ear. We'll all wait here patiently for you to think up your dying words."



Caxton leaned close, leaning against the edge of the coffin. Her shirt trailed in the blood but she didn't care. "Jameson," she whispered. She'd never used his first name before and it felt strange in her mouth. "Please don't apologize."



"Kneel," the Fed told her. It wasn't what she was expecting. "Kneel before her."



She recoiled from the words, from the very idea. She sought his eyes, wanting to let him know how angry she was that he would just surrender like that, that he would want her to embrace her doom so wholeheartedly. The light in his eyes was wrong, though. There was a distinct streak of defiance in the wrinkles around his eyes. He'd never been wrong before. She dropped to her knees and lowered her head as if she were praying in church. She knew very well that it would take more than a simple prayer to save herself, though.



Down on her knees she saw something-a shadow tucked away in the near perfect darkness under the coffin. She saw the triangular shapes of the sawhorses and between them something else, something flat and angular. She squinted and saw that something had been secured to the bottom of the coffin with a silver X of duct tape. She squinted again and finally understood. It was a handgun. A Glock 23. He must have put it there earlier, of course. Perhaps back on the night when Scapegrace and Reyes had come for Malvern and he had threatened to tear out her heart. He must have planned for this, just as he planned for every possible contingency. That was how you fought vampires-you never let them get the drop on you.



She glanced up at Arkeley's face. He wasn't giving anything away. She looked back at the pistol. She knew it held thirteen bullets-there would be nothing in the chamber. She looked up and around the room. "Scapegrace," she said. The vampire stepped closer. He was no more than five feet away. "Hmm?"



"Catch," she said, and tossed the skull into the air. Instantly its high unearthly shriek split the air. Scapegrace grabbed at it, his white hands up and reaching. She tore the Glock free from the tape holding it to the bottom of the coffin. She worked the slide to chamber a round and saw the vampire's red eyes go wide. His brain understood what was happening but his hands kept going for the skull. He caught it and crushed it unthinkingly between his pale fingers. Fragments of yellow bone and clods of dirt swarming with worms trickled down the front of his shirt. The shrieking stopped.



Caxton pressed the barrel of the pistol against his chest and fired. He fell backwards, his head smashing on the concrete floor. His eyes swiveled around to fix on her. "Pretty good," he said, and tried to get a knee under himself so he could rise and kill her. His limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Shit," he said, and fell back.



"Go! Get help!" Hazlitt shouted at the half-deads. One of them rushed for the far exit, for the darkness there. Caxton pivoted on her heel and snapped off a shot and the half-dead's back erupted in a cloud of rotten flesh and torn clothing. She turned to shoot the next one but it was gone, already having fled the room. The third half-dead crouched down on the floor and hugged his knees.



She turned to Hazlitt next. She didn't point her weapon at him-you never pointed a weapon at a human being until you were prepared to shoot them. He stepped behind a cart of medical instruments and raised his hands. He was too smart, she decided, to actually try something.



Scapegrace had rolled over onto his side and was pushing himself up into a sitting posture when she looked again. His eyes wouldn't meet hers. "You nicked it," he said.



"What?"



"You nicked my heart," he finished. He pushed upward with one knee but his arms were trembling. "That was pretty tricky." He got up on both knees. "You waited until I'd given all my blood to Her. You waited for the moment when I would be at my weakest. Pretty tricky. Listen," he said, rising to his feet. He lifted his hands into plain sight. "I'll go quietly, okay? Don't kill me." He wheezed as he spoke-had she punctured one of his lungs? She would have given anything for a chest x-ray just then. "Please," he continued. "You can lock me away forever, whatever you want. But please don't kill me. I'm not even eighteen years old."



"Don't," Arkeley breathed behind her. Don't listen, he was trying to say. Arkeley. Was he still alive? He wouldn't be for long unless she got him down and bandaged his wounds. She turned half around to look at him.



It was the opening Scapegrace had been waiting for. He flew across the room, a pale streak of lightning. Red blood erupted from Hazlitt's throat and chin as the vampire tore off half of the doctor's neck. Hazlitt gurgled out a scream. Caxton fired a round into the back of Scapegrace's head, just by instinct. It didn't even slow him down. She fired again into his back but he just redoubled his efforts, pressing his face and his rows of triangular teeth deep into the hole he'd made in Hazlitt's neck. Every drop of blood he drank would make Scapegrace stronger. He would be bulletproof in seconds. She needed to kill him instantly. Carefully, holding her breath, she lined up another shot and fired through the back of his t-shirt. The bullet tore through the vampire's body and made him double over in howling pain. He staggered away from Hazlitt and fell across a rack of IV stands. They clattered to the floor as his hands clutched and clutched at nothing, at air. His legs shook like rubber bands and he collapsed to the floor and finally, convulsively, died. Hazlitt took one last look around the room, his face and chest and the whole front of his body one continuous sheet of flowing blood. Then he slumped to the floor as well, just as dead as the vampire.



The half-dead in the corner jumped up and started running for the door. Caxton fired reflexively and missed him. She fired again and pulverized his left arm. The half-dead started whining in pain but he didn't stop. She fired a third time and his whole body fell apart in pieces.