Black Dawn: The Morganville Vampires (31 page)

Claire saw the spiderweb fracture form in the safety glass.

“Brake!” she yelled. Hannah didn’t hesitate; she hit them hard, sending the front end of the car diving down and the heavily loaded back up, and the draug lost its balance. It rolled forward over the roof, over the front windshield, onto the hood, and suddenly turned liquid and re-formed facing back toward them, snarling.

Hannah hit reverse. It tumbled off into the roiling water in the road with a splash, sank, and was gone. She quickly put the car into drive again, but the next intersection was as bad as the one they’d tried to avoid. There was no telling how deep the water was, but from the current down the middle that Claire could see rippling, it was dangerous.

So was staying in one place. There were more of the draug, and they’d be here soon.

“Got to chance it,” Hannah muttered. “It’ll be no better on
the other streets. This dip runs right through town.” It had been part of the original urban planning, Claire thought; they never got much rain. It was supposed to be clever.

Not so much, now.

She grabbed for Shane’s hand and held it tight as Hannah eased the cruiser into the intersection. The front tires rolled downward. The muddy, fast-moving water rippled around the bumper as it submerged. Then it rose along the sides of the car.

“It’s too deep,” Shane said.

“It’s too late. We’re committed,” Hannah said. She kept the accelerator pressed down, neither accelerating nor braking, and the brown water splashed up onto the hood.

Over it.

It was leaking into the door next to Shane. Just a little, but enough to freak Claire out.
It can’t be this deep,
she thought.
It can’t drown us.
But it didn’t have to. All it needed to do was drown out the engine. Improbably enough, it hadn’t yet. The cruiser was still running, still rolling relentlessly forward through the draug-infested water. Maybe cop cars were built tougher than hearses and vampmobiles.

They hit the bottom of the dip with a little jolt that sent waves of ripples out, and the water sloshed up on the windshield, leaving a thin, silver, unclean film behind it … and then Claire felt a strong rush of water against Shane’s side of the car, and the car began to slip sideways.

“No, no, no,” Hannah chanted under her breath. She pushed the gas, just a little, and the tires caught pavement and began to climb up. The water seemed to hold it back, not just in terms of mass but
really
holding on, clinging. Claire’s breath felt hot and ragged in her chest, and she felt utterly terrified and helpless.

Nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do, except
Hannah, and if she made one wrong move, the car would go spinning into the current, carried away.

But she kept hold of it, nudging the gas in careful increments and pushing the cruiser up. The water level fell. The hood broke the surface, and then the bumper, and then they were up and through and moving fast.

Behind them, the current kept roaring, getting stronger. No other cars were going to make it through there. Not right now, anyway.

Richard reached over, took Hannah’s free hand in his, and raised it to his lips. “That,” he said, “was world-class calm.”

“That was luck,” she corrected, but flashed him a brilliant and very personal smile, just the same. “And I was freaking the hell out inside.”

“Cold as ice, that’s my girl.”

“Shut up,” she said, but she sounded pleased. And then she remembered they weren’t alone in the car, and cleared her throat.

Myrnin said, in a weary tone, “I could sincerely
not
care less who in this town is carrying on secret affairs just now, so please, declare your impassioned desires or be quiet. All of you.”

It was a very quiet drive.

Six blocks later, it all changed. They were within sight of Founder’s Square’s lights, even though they were difficult to see through the smear of pouring rain; the constant hammering of drops on the roof had made Claire wonder if she was going deaf. But there was just barely enough visibility to see the open-bed pickup truck that charged through the intersection, heading at right angles to Founder’s Square. It missed hitting the front bumper of the police cruiser by a couple of feet, maybe, and skidded out of control on the wet pavement, going way too fast.

And then it hit the curb, and flipped over twice, shedding
metal and glass and making a shrieking noise that was clear even over the roar of the rain.

Hannah didn’t hesitate. She turned the patrol car toward the wreck, pulled as close as she could, and yelled, “Stay inside, all of you!” Then she grabbed a yellow rain slicker with a hood, put it on, and plunged out into the storm.

Richard found another raincoat and joined her.

Claire and Shane and Myrnin were locked into the back, like criminals, and Michael sensibly decided to stay where he was, since there wasn’t another rain slicker available. Shane tried his door handle, but not in a way that meant he was seriously trying to jump out.

Myrnin didn’t bother. He sat in cold silence for a while, and then said, “This is taking too long. We can’t afford the distraction.”

“People are hurt,” Claire said. “It’s Hannah’s job to help them.”

“It’s foolish,” he said flatly. “More will die every second we delay. If we allow the draug to play this game, we’ll lose. Horribly. Get her back inside.”

“Great idea!” Shane muttered. “Why don’t you go take a dip in the pool, man?”

“I am not your
man
,” Myrnin hissed back. “What pool are you talking about?”

“Hey!” Claire held out both palms, symbolically shoving them apart. “Enclosed space. Let’s all get along.”

“It’s taking too long,” Myrnin said.

And he was right.

I
told them not to get out of the car. I was reasonably certain that the three in the backseat would obey; Shane, strong as he was, didn’t have the leverage or the insanity to break out, and Claire, regardless of any intentions, didn’t stand any chance. Myrnin wouldn’t want to. I could see it in his face.

But Michael … Michael worried me. I could only hope that he wouldn’t play the hero.

I knew Richard probably would.

I kept my attention focused on them, at least part of the time, as I raced across to the wrecked truck.

There were men down, four or five of them. Two were dead. I could tell that at a glance; they’d been thrown clear of the rolling truck, and the damage was done. I left them and went for the others who were still moving, however weakly.

One had a badly broken arm, and a gushing scalp wound, but he was awake and more or less focused. He reached up and caught a fistful of my yellow raincoat. “Get them out of here,” he said. “Goddamn water vampires were on us. Couldn’t get anywhere safe. Get my men out of here.”

I blinked. It was the human resistance leader of Morganville, Captain Obvious. He’d taken over the role of vampire-hating rebel leader when the last Captain Obvious had been killed, and he was good at it because he’d served his country sometime, somewhere, in some branch. Not a Marine, I thought; a Marine would have been a better driver, and a Marine wouldn’t be lying there with a busted arm and expecting someone else to save his men.

“Wait one,” I said, and left him to move to the next man. Broken legs, two of them. His face was in the water, and I propped him up against the wreckage to make sure he continued to breathe. He was coughing and starting to scream as I moved on.

Richard and I got to the third one at the same time. I wasn’t surprised to see him, but I was annoyed. “I told you to stay in the—”

“And I don’t listen,” he interrupted me. “Technically, I’m your boss, and don’t give me chain-of-command crap right now. This man has serious injuries.”

“They all do,” I said. “And there’s no room for them in the car. Take the cruiser and go. Send back adequate transportation.”

“You really think I’m going to leave you out here, alone? You really believe that? Hannah?”

I looked up, and found him watching me with that strange mix of vulnerability and frustration that I’d come to know over the past few months. We’d been at this relationship a while. It had started in a frenzy of frustration and need, not love maybe but
something close. It could have been love, in time, but there was just something not quite clicking between us. Some hidden switch that didn’t trip.

I wished it was different. I
wanted
to be in love. He was worth it. Hell,
I
was worth it, too.

But it just wasn’t the way it was going to be, and deep down I think we both knew it.

“Richard,” I said, in my best commanding officer voice, “we do
not
have time for this. Take the cruiser and get us help,
now
. Go.”

He wasn’t used to taking orders, particularly; that’s what happens when you grow up in the richest, most powerful human family in Morganville. He still thought of me as a girl from the wrong side of town, not somebody who’d been to hell, kicked ass, and come home alive.

That was a mistake. He was starting to realize it, finally. And revise his attitude.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll go. But you stay safe.”

I gave him a little smile, but it was my battle smile, without humor. “Always,” I said. I was a survivor. Hell, I’d survived worse than this. Supernatural horrors were bad, but they were nothing to the burning hatred and viciousness that humans could visit on each other. I hadn’t lived through segregation, but my dear, sweet, tough old Gramma Day had; she’d been born in the days when
colored
couldn’t eat in the same restaurants, dance in the same clubs, drink from the same fountains, or pee in the same toilets as whites. Humans were capable of a whole lot worse than vampires, in my experience.

Maybe they just inherited their viciousness from us.

The rain was letting up, but where it hit bare skin it burned like stings, or bites. Cannibal rain. I’d seen a lot of crap, but this was weird even for Morganville. As Richard headed for the cruiser,
I resisted the urge to tell him to be careful. He was a Morganville native; he understood the rules. He was tough, deep down, too. He’d be all right.

I had a split second to wish I’d said it.

A sudden gush of water came off the top of the looming roof of the building, splatting down over Richard and in front of him, and in the next second it was forming arms that weren’t arms, a body that was more boneless worm than human form, and my brain refused to process what that was, that
face
—

I yelled and brought the shotgun up but Richard was right in front of it, held as a shield. It knew.
It knew what it was doing.

It grinned at me, some horrible and incredibly wrong configuration of teeth and tongue and lips, and its eyes were melting and forming and bulging and I felt an utterly strange impulse to scream and hide my eyes, like a child, as if that would stop what was about to happen.

Then it
enveloped
Richard. Dragged him into its own body. The thick, heaving mass closed around him, and I heard him scream. Just once, before his mouth disappeared.

If I fired, I’d hurt the draug, but I’d kill Richard.

“Shoot it!” Captain Obvious was screaming at me. I recognized the voice, heard the buzz of the words, but I was completely focused on what was in front of me. “God, shoot it
now
!”

It won’t hurt him much
, I told myself.
They had Shane for hours, submerged in that tank. It can’t hurt him so much; it’s just trying to force me to shoot and kill Richard.

He was struggling inside it, like a bug caught in molasses.

The watery, sticky form of the draug was taking on a pinkish tint.

Do something!

I left Captain Obvious and his yelling, raced to the cruiser,
and pulled open the back door. Claire was pounding on the window, reaching across Shane to do it. She was holding out a bag of white powder, and for an insane second I thought
drugs
, which was always a problem in any small town, but as I hesitated she screamed, “Throw it at the draug!”

I emptied the whole bag, flinging the contents at the creature.

The scream drilled into my head like a laser, and I dropped the shotgun and fell down, stunned, instinctively pulling into a fetal position and covering my ears, but that shriek plunged deeper and deeper into my head, whiting out every thought, every instinct except the purest, to
hide
.

And then it started to fade.

The rain stopped, as suddenly as the cutoff of a faucet. The puddles underneath me seemed to actually
crawl
, as if they were trying to get away, and I thought I was going insane, again, as I flopped over on my back and saw the silvery streams of drops going up into the air against the law of gravity, shimmering and weirdly, horribly beautiful in their sinuous curves.

The clouds were smaller overhead, I realized. They’d risked a lot to do this, and it had cost them. This was dry country, arid and unforgiving, and water got trapped quickly in the loose, sandy soil. Not all the draug’s—cells? whatever it was—could survive this process of rain and reclamation.