Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1) (5 page)

He sighed, hung his head. “She said she knew where to find her dad. She said she was going to meet her real father.”

Craig? She’d found Craig?

Impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Chapter Seven

Lockman shoved the girl’s head down as the first burst of machine-gun fire struck the back of the vehicle. “Stay low and don’t get up until I tell you to.”

“How can he be alive? How is that even possible?”

He shook his head and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. “You don’t want to know.”

She started to say something else, but another group of rounds snapped and zipped through the car. The windshield cracked into several web patterns. Lockman hunched in his seat to make himself as small a target as possible. The last of their group had obviously given up trying to take Lockman alive. Now the vamp just wanted to get even.

Lockman checked the rearview, saw the vamp running and gunning. It would slow him down and make his shooting inaccurate, vamp or not. The beast had given over to his lesser instincts. That was the problem with hiring supernaturals to do a mortal’s job. Apparently Dolan still hadn’t figured that out.

The girl mumbled something that sounded like a chant or prayer. He tried to make out words and missed them under more gunfire. Had she snapped? He’d seen people go crazy after learning monsters really did exist. He needed to get her somewhere safe, talk her down, then get her back to where she belonged—in a normal life where the supernatural seldom thrashed its forked tail.

Lockman sped toward the next intersection, weary of driving so fast in a suburban area. They would have to get to a highway if they wanted to avoid heat from either more of Dolan’s men or law enforcement. He shook his head at the thought of those poor cops the vamps had eaten. That would be a hell of a thing to clean and cover. Dolan had grown even bolder with public displays of supernatural power. That did not bode well for homeland security. The Agency had its work cut out for them on this one.

What did he care? They’d decommissioned him. Wasn’t his job to worry about that sort of thing anymore.

Just get the girl safe and get relocated. Let the Agency worry about the rest.

He cranked the parking brake and sent the back end of the car swinging around just as they entered the intersection. He slammed the brake handle back home and gassed the engine, speeding down the new street. He would work his way north to the San Bernardino Freeway. From there, he could shoot straight east until he met up with the I-15. Then they could make their way north to Vegas. He knew a safe house there connected with the Agency. But first they had to find a fresh set of wheels. They wouldn’t get far in a bullet-ridden Honda.

He just hoped, after fifteen years, the safe house was still active.

Lockman checked on the vamp, saw it come around the corner where they had turned. It had abandoned its weapon, probably empty. With its hands free, it went down on all fours. Its back bent. Its spine became a hard ridge almost like a fin from neck to tailbone. Its back legs also changed, knees hinged more like a dog. This new form allowed the vamp to travel even faster.

He looked over at the girl, hunched with her head between her knees, still muttering something. This time he could pick out some words. “Matrix…Gladiator…Schindler…Gump.”

“Hey. What are you saying? Snap out of it.”

She turned her head, looking at him through her smeared make-up. “Movie titles. When I get nervous, I just start naming off movies.”

Distracted by her explanation, Lockman didn’t notice the vamp had caught up until it leapt onto the back of the car and ripped away what remained of the safety glass in the window.

The girl started to lift her head. Lockman pushed her back down. “Don’t look.”

He gunned the engine, but the Honda had already given him all it could. Behind him, the vamp clawed its way into the back seat. Lockman tried to swerve hard, shake it loose, but vamp made it inside.

Doing fifty on a road marked for thirty made it near impossible for Craig to react as the vamp grabbed at his neck and squeezed.

The girl screamed.

The vampire leaned forward, its cold breath touching the side of Lockman’s neck. Blood frenzy. The thing had lost complete track of any mission. All it wanted now was to feed.

“Hang on,” he shouted, hoping the girl had enough presence of mind to do what he said. He smelled iron and flesh on the vamp’s breath, probably from one of the cops. In real life, a vampire’s bite was anything but sexy. They sunk their fangs in and tore a chunk out of you before drinking from the gaping hole in your neck.

Lockman wrenched the wheel to the right and floored the gas, a second later smashing into yet another parked car.

The vamp sailed over the seatback and straight through the windshield. Its limbs flopped and snapped as its body rolled off the hood and somersaulted over the top of the car they’d crashed into.

Lockman himself thumped into the billowing airbag. Despite the cushion, the wind rushed out of his lungs and left him gasping a moment.

The girl had thankfully buckled her seatbelt and hung onto the shoulder strap as if it were a lifeline. Her face had gone pale and her expression frozen in horror. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

When Lockman regained his breath, he asked. “Are you okay?”

She trembled. Her knuckles turned white where she strangled the seatbelt across her chest.

Lockman touched her elbow. “Are you still with me?”

Her mouth moved, lips forming silent words. Then her voice picked up. “
White Christmas. Kramer Versus Kramer. The Godfather. Private Benjamin. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome
.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Her gaze floated away from him while she continued to rattle off what sounded like secret code. Then she went quiet, gasped.

Lockman followed the direction of her gaze. The vamp stood on the hood of the car they’d hit. The beast cocked its head to one side as if studying the girl. The mouth-less ski mask made the stare all the more disturbing.

Lockman looked around for some kind of weapon. He could go hand-to-hand with a vamp and maybe hold his own—at least in the old days—but only if the vamp hadn’t fed in a while. This one had just fed. But it also had a few silver rounds in it, had changed form, run after a speeding car, and been thrown from a crash. It had to be a little worn out by now. Besides, Lockman didn’t have much choice. Fight or die.

He snapped off his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. He waved his hands over his head. “Hey, over here. You want to eat something more filling than that scrawny girl.”

The vamp afforded Lockman a glance, but its focus returned to the girl.

The girl whimpered. “I really don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

“Hey,” Lockman shouted. He hefted himself up onto the hood of his Honda and stood between the vamp and the girl. He felt a warm trickle by his ear. He wiped his fingers through it, saw the blood.

The vamp’s head turned slightly. It was hard to tell with the wraparound sunglasses, but Lockman thought he had the creature’s full attention now. For good measure he held out his bloody fingertips.

“Smell that?” He grinned. “Come get some.”

The vamp leapt at him too fast for Lockman to dodge. Instead he moved with the impact, using the energy of momentum to throw the vamp off of him and onto the Honda’s roof. He followed up with a hand chop meant for the vamp’s throat.

The vamp rolled off the car, avoiding the strike.

“Hey,” the girl called.

“Stay in the car,” Lockman said and dove off the hood onto the vampire.

The vamp caught Lockman around the waist and tossed him to the ground. Then the beast was on top of him, pinning his arms with its knees. Lockman kicked and thrashed, but he couldn’t shake the vamp off. Stupid to think he could take on this powerful creature. He’d only lasted a matter of seconds. Now he and a girl he was almost certain was his daughter were about to die horribly.

“Hey, you.”

The voice came from behind the vamp, and it turned to look. Lockman saw the glint of sunlight off the silver cross.

The vamp screamed and leapt off of Lockman. It scampered away on all fours for a handful of yards before turning back.

The girl stepped forward and jabbed the cross in the vamp’s direction. She trembled like a branch in a windstorm, but held her ground.

Lockman was impressed.

The vamp howled, its voice almost in tune with the approaching sirens. It gave Lockman a long stare, then turned and ran off on all fours like a frightened cat.

The girl dropped to her knees. “Oh my God, it worked. Was that really a—”

“Yes.” Lockman stood and helped the girl back to her feet. “Nice job there. I owe you my life.”

“I’d say we’re about even.”

The sirens grew in intensity. More than just a couple squad cars on the way. “We have to get out of here.”

“Why? Sounds like the police are almost here. We’re safe.”

Lockman snorted. “You want to explain to them what just happened?”

“Well, no, but…” She gave him a helpless look, her face a mess of tears and smeared make-up.

“What’s your name?”

“Jessie.”

“Hi, Jessie. I’m Craig. Craig Lockman.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Chapter Eight

Otto Dolan stared at the screen on his Smartphone and the single line text message stared back at him.

Contact with tactical unit lost.

He realized he was squeezing the phone only after the screen cracked. The display flickered and went black. It took all of his self-control to keep from throwing the device across the room.

That wouldn’t do, of course, in current company.

Detroit Mayor Colson Wills set his forkful of linguini and clam sauce on his plate and inquired, “Is everything all right?”

Dolan smiled. “Of course.” He slipped the dead phone into his suit coat pocket and folded his hands on the table. Before him sat a half empty glass of water, room temperature, no ice. Despite the Mayor’s insistence that everything on the menu was exquisite, Dolan had no taste for Italian cuisine. Too many carbohydrates and cream sauce made for a flabby belly. Anyway, he’d come to negotiate, not eat.

“Mr. Mayor,” Dolan said and took a sip of water for dramatic effect. “We need to come to some sort of understanding soon, or our window of opportunity will close.”

“I’m still not sure I understand what you are offering, Mr. Dohering.”

Dohering was Dolan’s latest identity, created especially for dealing with Mayor Wills. “It’s simple, sir. I’m offering a chance to start this city over from a clean slate. Put Detroit back on the map. Make Chicago look more like the Third or Fourth City.”

“The notion is great. It’s the execution that has me confused. How can you reboot a city in a single term? It will take years to reach the kind of vision you’ve suggested.”

Dolan shook his head. He could feel the tweak of a smile on his own face. “That’s where my people come in. We can expedite gentrification by eliminating blight and forcing out…unwelcome inhabitants that have held back the city’s progress.”

The mayor finished chewing before he spoke. “This sounds like some Mafia strong-arm shit. You offering to burn down crack houses and chase out riffraff with baseball bats? You think I haven’t had every wannabe goomba make me an offer like that? Just because I’m Detroit’s mayor doesn’t make me corrupt.”

“I never suggested such a thing. And I can assure you our methods are not nearly as crude as those you describe. No one will leave the city unwillingly. But many will leave, clearing the way for a new generation of Detroiters.”

The mayor glanced over both shoulders as if expecting someone listening in. Probably somebody was. The man had a right to his paranoia. You didn’t become leader of a deadbeat city like Detroit without some skeletons in the proverbial closet. Idealists didn’t actually make it as far as the mayoral office.

Mayor Wills leaned forward, whispered. “You know how you sound? No offence, but if you don’t have something a little more concrete for me, I’m going to beg off. I’ve got a city to run.”

The smirk on Dolan’s lips pulled tighter. “Tell me, Mr. Mayor. Do you believe in ghosts?”

The mayor pushed his plate away and drained the last of his wine. “We’re done here.”

“Do not leave this table.”

“In case you forgot, the armed men over by the door are my security detachment. I come and go as I please.”

“What about the men at your home? Are you confident they can protect your family?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Just asking questions, Mr. Mayor. The world is full of questions. Questions are easy. It is always the answers that elude. But sometimes we ignore the answers that stand before us in plain sight.”

The mayor slid his seat back.

Dolan reached across the table and grabbed the other man’s wrist. The mayor’s attempt to jerk free was pathetic at best. And here the man had styled himself as a hip athlete during his campaign. Just another of the many facades in this world.

“Look at my glass, Mr. Mayor.”

“Let me go this instant.” He turned to his security team and waved them over with his free hand. The two men in matching suits with matching bulges under their jackets peeled away from their position at the entrance and started over.

Dolan slid his glass of water across the table to the mayor’s side. “Look. Tell me what you see.”

“It’s water you stupid lunatic. Just…” Something caught his eye. He gazed into the glass, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

Dolan released the mayor’s wrist. “Yes.”

“How?”

“The most interesting question of all. Many are so focused on ‘why?’ But it is ‘how’ that can confound us even more when we see something we think is impossible.”

The pair of security goons reached the table. They came around to Dolan and each took an arm. Dolan didn’t fight. He waited, watching the mesmerized mayor.

The mayor looked up from the glass, blinking as if coming out of an unexpected sleep. It took a moment for him to process what his men were up to, maybe even if they belonged to him or not.