Out of the Night (37 page)

Read Out of the Night Online

Authors: Robin T. Popp

Tags: #Fiction, #Ghost, #Romance, #General, #Horror

BOOK: Out of the Night
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The trip back to Washington, D.C., was the longest of his life. Thoughts of what Burton was doing to Lanie persecuted him, and it seemed that the plane couldn't fly fast enough while the clock, counting down the minutes of Lanie's life, ticked loudly in his head. He'd never felt so powerless in his life.

Finally, Andrew's Air Force Base came into view, and Mac landed without incident. Soon he was in Dirk's car, racing toward the warehouse where Burton supposedly waited with Lanie. He didn't park right out in front, hoping to preserve some small element of surprise. They might be expecting him, but they didn't know exactly when he was arriving.

He walked around the warehouse, keeping to the shadows, wondering how he could get in without being detected. There were no windows on the sides or rear of the warehouse, and it seemed that his only choice was going to be to storm the front doors. Then he spotted the metal rungs, attached to the outer wall in back—a type of fire escape.

He climbed them to the roof where he found an access door to the inside, rusted and deformed by age and neglect. Grabbing the handle, he pulled it open as quietly as he could. It still creaked, but he hoped that any vampires waiting inside hadn't noticed.

Stepping inside, he paused to take in his surroundings. There were no lights on, but with his excellent night vision, that wasn't a problem. He stood in the middle of a big open loft and, from below, caught the faint rumble of voices.

Moving quietly, he followed the sound and soon found himself standing at the edge of an upper landing that opened to the floor below. The place reminded him of what once might have been a mechanic's shop because old engine parts and empty oil cans Uttered the ground floor. Off to one side was a long mound of dirty oil rags, and on top of that, tied and gagged, was Lanie.

"What's taking him so long?" Mac heard Harris ask.

"Be patient," came Burton's terse reply. "He'll be here soon enough."

"Maybe you got it wrong," Harris continued. "Maybe—"

"Shut up," a third voice hissed.

Mac took a deep, silent breath. There were at least three vampires down there, which left two still unaccounted for. They could be here, or they could be at Camp David. He'd know which soon enough.

He'd brought his gun, but didn't have enough bullets to decapitate all of them.
Damn
. He should have come better prepared, he thought, looking around for a pipe or forgotten tool, anything that could be used as a weapon. On the floor of the loft there were only wire cables, a few wood pallets, scattered trash, rat droppings, spiderwebs, and dirt. Not much to work with.

As he considered how to break the pallets into stakes, he caught the barest whisper of a sound. He whirled around just in time to face a charging vampire. Mac had only time to recognize him as Smith before the impact of
Smith's tackle carried them both to the floor. Mac knew he was stronger than most humans, but he was astounded at how much stronger Smith was. It put Mac at a decided disadvantage.

He closed his mind on his self-doubt. There was no room for it in battle.

Within seconds, Smith, hissing like a wild animal, had him pinned to the ground and had turned his face into a punching bag. Mac was barely aware of the shouts from below and knew the others were on their way up to join the fight. There was no way he could fight them all.

Bucking violently, he managed to catch Smith off balance. Shoving him off, Mac scrambled to his feet. As soon as Smith stood, Mac began his own assault, repeatedly hitting the man's face and stomach. He knew that if he slowed down, gave the vampire any opening at all, he'd be in serious trouble.

The fight moved dangerously close to the edge of the loft where wire cables threatened to entangle Mac's feet with each step he took. Sounding much too close, he heard the other vampires running up the stairs. He was out of time.

Diving for the floor, he tucked and rolled past Smith, catching the vampire off guard. When he came up, he had a cable clutched in one hand. Without pausing, he looped it around Smith's neck and then shoved him off the platform.

The thin cable became a noose around Smith's neck as his falling body pulled it taut. The noose tightened, slicing through the vampire's neck as easily as a wire cutter sliced through cheese. Smith's head flew off in one direction, eyes still open wide in surprise, while his body fell, lifeless, to the floor below.

Mac had no time to enjoy his victory because Burton, Harris, and Brown were there, stalking him, spaced far enough apart that he had a difficult time keeping an eye on all of them at once.

"What are you going to do now, Knight?" Burton taunted.

Brown was the closest, so Mac dealt with him first. Pulling his gun, he discharged a full clip into the man, even as the other two rushed him. The impact of the two hitting him sent the gun flying out of his hand, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that there was little left of Brown to worry about.

It was Mac's last victory. With both Burton and Harris attacking him, he was soon overpowered. They beat him until he could barely hold up his head, and the cuts from their sharp teeth and nails bled freely.

Consciousness came and went as they carried him downstairs and tossed him onto the pile of rags beside Lanie.

His eyes swollen almost shut, he struggled to open a lid enough to see. Her complexion was sallow, except for the bruises starting to darken her cheeks and jaw. The fear in her eyes tore at him, and Mac felt a murderous rage well up inside him at the sight of her abuse.

"Well, this is certainly a moment to be savored," Burton gloated, hovering just inside Mac's range of vision. "Unfortunately, I'll have to postpone the pleasure of killing you for another night. I have a few loose ends to tie up."

He turned to Harris. "Go dump what's left of Smith and Brown outside where the sun can turn them to stone. Then take these two to the lair. And, Harris—I want them alive when I return. I've waited a long time to kill Knight. I won't be robbed of the moment."

He stared at Mac with bared fangs and ran a tongue over their gleaming points. "Victory will taste so sweet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see an old
friend
." He spit out the word
friend
as if it tasted bad. "I'll be sure to give the admiral your regards—right before I rip out his throat."

Laughing, the two vampires left, leaving Mac and Lanie alone.

"Baby, are you all right?" Mac croaked past his bloodied lips, knowing it was a stupid question but needing to ask it anyway.

Lanie nodded. "I'm sorry you had to come for me."

He forced himself to sit up, though it cost him dearly, and struggled to get close enough that he could reach the ropes binding her arms. "I'm going to undo these, and then I want you to leave." He paused to take a breath and found her shaking her head.

"No way. I'm not going without you."

If he'd had the strength, he would have groaned. "Now is not the time to argue. Just do as I say. Please?"

"You can't ask me to leave you," she begged. "Come with me. I'll help you."

He worked at the knots, his fingers bruised and swollen, almost too numb to function. The loss of blood from the cuts he'd sustained made him feel light-headed and it took several tries, and the last of his energy, to finally get the knots undone. He fell back on the pile of rags and closed his eyes, the thought of death almost a welcomed relief. "It's me they want," he said weakly. "As long as they have me, they won't go after you."

He rolled his head toward her and cracked open one eyelid again. She was busy untying the bindings around her ankles. Soon she had those off as well.

"Okay," Mac mumbled. "Get out of here and call the admiral. Tell him Burton is coming."
He'll know what to do
.

She didn't move, and he grew desperate. Didn't she realize that Harris would be back any second?

Her brow furrowed for a moment, as if she waged a great internal debate, and then she pulled her hair away from her neck and tipped her head to one side. "Bite me."

Mac would have raised an eyebrow if he'd had the strength. "Excuse me?"

She scooted closer so she could lie down, putting her neck within easy access. "You know—feed off me. It's the only way we both have a chance of getting out of here. Please, Mac. You remember how you felt when you took my blood earlier. It gave you energy. It might revive you."

He rolled over on his side so he could see her better, wanting to push her away. All too well he remembered the revitalizing energy and strength that came after he'd taken her blood. It had been incredible, but he'd not been in such desperate need. Now he was weak, near death. What if he lacked the control to stop?

Seeing the fear in his eyes, she placed her hand lightly against his cheek. "I trust you."

Her words left him dazed, barely noticing when she pulled his face to her until his mouth was pressed against her neck. The intoxicating lure of her pulse beneath his lips sealed her fate.

He pierced the tender skin with his fangs and let her life-giving blood fill his mouth. Once again tasting the sweet nectar, he swallowed and felt new strength and energy coursing through his body. It was ambrosia to a starving man, and he lost himself in the sensation.

How long he drank he wasn't sure, but the fear of hurting her overrode the pleasure of drinking and he forced himself to stop. He licked the traces of blood from her neck, feeling incredibly good. When he turned to thank her for her gift, her face looked paler than before, and her eyes were closed. Instantly, his euphoria was replaced by the horrible fear that he'd somehow misjudged how much he'd taken.

"Lanie, look at me. Are you okay, baby?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled weakly up at him. "Wow," she whispered.

He smiled back, relieved, and kissed her forehead. At that moment he heard Harris return. Mac waited until the man came closer and he could see that Burton was not with him. Then Mac rose to his feet.

Harris's eyes went wide in alarm when Mac lunged at him. He put up a good fight, but Mac had the benefit of his energy boost. In a macabre dance, they moved about the warehouse floor, exchanging blows, each trying to wear down the other. They had drawn even with the outer door when Harris ducked a punch from Mac and raced outside, disappearing into the night.

Mac let him go and returned to Lanie, who still lay on the pile of rags. She hadn't moved. Worried, he stooped to pick her up and carried her to his car. When he set her in the passenger seat, she opened her eyes. "We have to go back to the hotel."

"No way. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, there's no time. Take me back to the hotel—I have something there." She paused before going on. "You'll need it… to save Uncle Charles."

He hesitated. For once, his course was unclear.

"Please, Mac. You're the only one who can save him."

 

A few minutes later, Mac opened the door to Lanie's hotel room. It was still in shambles from when Lanie had fought off her abductor.

"He hired someone to kidnap me," she said, as if reading his thoughts. "He came while I was packing." She gave a helpless gesture. "The sun was out. I wasn't expecting trouble." She spoke slowly as if she were having a hard time catching her breath. "He took me to the warehouse and we waited for the sun to set. He thought he'd get paid. Instead, Burton killed him."

Mac felt no remorse for the kidnapper. He got what he deserved. They moved into the room with Mac supporting her as she stumbled along, her gait unsteady. Near the chest of drawers, in the travel carrier on the floor, the baby chupacabra moved about, restless. Mac ignored it as he helped Lanie across the room. He started to take her to the bed, but she motioned to the desk chair instead.

"Look in my duffel bag," she told him, not making an effort to get it herself. He lifted the bag onto the bed and, digging around, soon found the small wrapped bundle.

"Be careful," she warned as he unfolded the layers of cloth. "There should be two items in there—a vial and a syringe. You want the syringe."

"What's in it?" He held it up to the light and examined the clear, amber liquid.

"It's antiserum. According to Dad, it's fast-acting, extremely painful, and lethal when injected into vampires." She hesitated. "And changelings, so don't accidentally stick yourself with it."

Mac nodded, knowing why she'd not told him before. Her father had given it to her for protection—against him, if need be. He couldn't blame the man for that.

He put the syringe in his pocket and then turned to Lanie. She was looking worse. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No—I'm fine. You have to hurry. Since Uncle Charles didn't answer the phone when you called from the car, Burton must already be there."

Knowing she was right, he gave her a quick kiss and left.

"I love you," she whispered, watching him leave, a single tear escaping to run down her cheek. Fate could be so cruel. To find love too late…

Inside the carrier, Gem rattled the cage door, clearly irritated with being locked away all night, but Lanie didn't have the energy to let her out. She was cold and tired—so tired. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

But she couldn't. Not yet. There was something she needed to do first. She pulled out paper and pen from the middle drawer and started to write. There was so much she wanted to say, but in the end, the message was brief.

When she finished, she left it on the desk and crossed to the bed. It took almost more strength than she had to climb under the covers, and though she pulled them up to her neck, she still started to shake. She let her mind wander to thoughts of Mac, praying he'd be okay. When sleep finally beckoned, she closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

 

The front door to the admiral's house stood open, and Mac didn't bother looking for another way in. The main room showed signs of a struggle and Mac followed the blood trail to the study, where he found Burton sitting at the desk. He didn't look the least surprised when Mac walked in, leaving Mac to wonder now if maybe Harris's running away had been not an act of cowardice, but rather a strategic retreat, in keeping with a carefully orchestrated plan.

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