Vampires (15 page)

“All right,” barked Jack when he saw the light. “Everybody out. Let's go.”

The sound of his voice, habitually cool and authoritative, brought all of them around somewhat and they started for the door, except Felix who simply stood there and rocketed inside with that sweet exquisite memory of her soft eyes and yearning, tender...

“Felix,” barked Crow, “move your ass!”

Felix looked at him, at his hard face and hated his choices but knew he must obey and. .

“Jack!” screamed Father Adam and there she was again, coming at them with the crossbow flopping gruesomely and the fangs out and glittering and Felix shot her again.

And again and again and again, hitting her dead square each time and she slammed back onto the floor with the first concussion but he just kept shooting at her, the bitch, walking right up to her and firing and firing into her and her body warped and arched with each slug and be enjoyed the revenge he was having on the filthy rotten- The automatic clicked empty in his hand and he automatically ejected the clip and reached for another and suddenly realized how goddamned close he'd walked up to her and again their eyes met and she was.., hatred and horror and the things she was going to do to him!

And he started running back as she lurched up toward him and the second bolt, the one in Jack's crossbow, the one with the cable on it, slammed dead center through her chest and saved Felix's life and even over her wailing Felix could hear Jack barking at Joplin through the radio.

“Carl! Hit it!”

And Carl did, the cable went immediately taut and she was flung past them toward the door but the angle was wrong, she was being jerked around a pillar and as she went past it her suddenly taloned hands reached out and her fingers sunk two inches into the plaster and she just stopped herself'.

Which meant she must have stopped the goddamn Blazer, too! And there was this high-pitched ping and distant grinding of metal and the cable went slack and she smiled this ghastly smile at them and then she let got of the pillar and ran past them toward the booking counter and she leapt into the air like a missile and went right fucking through the iron grille above it with an ear-splitting shriek of tearing metal and then there was this hole in the grille and it was all torn loose from its bolts to the counter and there was more dust in the flickering light from where the ceiling had given way too and ...

And Felix grabbed Jack Crow by the upper arm and spun him around and screamed, “You didn't tell me they could do that!”

And Jack jerked angrily free and shouted back just as loud, “I didn't know!”

And Felix believed him. “Let's get out of here, then!”

Jack nodded. “Cat! Where are you?”

“Here, bwana,” came the shaky reply from the top of the elevator.

“C'mon, dammit!” ordered Jack, moving toward him. “While she's out of range!”

Cat nodded, poised briefly at the top of the elevator, then dropped softly, like his namesake, to the floor.

“Everybody all right?” asked Crow to the others, who had gathered around Cat.

Each nodded, but Felix paid no attention. He was still moving toward the front door, toward the sunshine, toward safety, dammit! We'll count our wounds outside, how 'bout?

But the others still stood there. Not for long-just a few seconds, really. And then the cable that stretched between them, from the front door to the busted grille, began to twitch.

“How much slack,” whispered the deputy, “does she really have?”

When she came bursting back through the grille toward them they all fell backward out of their huddle and Jack went in between Felix and the target and for just an instant the gunman almost fired anyway but he didn't.

And that gave her the time to lunge at Cat.

Cat fell back on the floor holding the pike out in front of him but it happened too fast-he couldn't get the sharpened end around toward her in time-and she got him.

Grabbed him around the waist and lifted him high in the air, one of the shafts that bisected her knocking loudly into his face- And Cat was dead and they all knew it.

Dead in front of them.

Dead in between them.

And the cable warped and zinged along the jailhouse floor and went taut and jerked her off her feet through the wooden stake in her chest and she hissed as she flew toward the sunlight, hissed and spat and dropped Cat to reach out and grab the wall along the edge of the wide front door and she did it, she stopped herself again, but her feet flew out from their own momentum and smacked into the blackened glass and the door swung wide, wide open and the sunlight bathed them and exploded her body into deafening, howling, flames.

But she would not let go!

Felix did shoot her. He shot her again and again, but she wouldn't let go and except for the obvious concussion when a slug struck her body he wouldn't have believed he was hitting her and outside they could hear the strain of a motor and see her talons flexed into the wall and they knew she could do it again, wreck the cable or another Blazer or something, knew she could get free again.

Knew she was strong enough.

Cat clambered to his feet, planted his left foot, and drove his pike into her flaming back with every ounce of strength and fear he had left and the SCREAMING as it plunged into her, the SCREAMING. . . and for a half a second they all saw her claws lose their grip and by the time she had held fast again Deputy Thompson had stepped forward and thrown his pike and he was younger and stronger than Cat and when it hit it drove through the back of her flaming head and she SCREAMED that SCREAM again and her hands flew open and she was out the doorway and into the full sunlight and imploding with the flame, dead and gone at last, before the door had a chance to swing shut and cut off their view.

“One down,” muttered Jack.

Felix eyed him a moment, then walked out the door and into the sunshine.

By the time they were ready to go again, there were only ninety minutes left until sundown.

Not so good, thought Jack Crow. But he kept it to himself along with everything else and hurried them along.

The trouble was, they had had so much to do:

A portable generator for power to their spotlights.

Two extra spotlights to protect those that were smashed.

A new cable.

They had removed what was left of both elevator doors.

They had fixed the front door.

And of course they repaired the walking wounded. Cat's nose was broken. Jack had sutures on his cheek. Felix had a bandage on the edge of his forehead. And Carl Joplin had damn near lost all his teeth.

He hadn't lost a one yet. But he should have. Seems the first time he tried dragging the girl out, she had just torn the Blazer's rear bumper completely off. The second time he had used a police car, actually wrapping the cable around the engine block and getting a much faster start so that he was going almost twenty miles an hour when he ran out of slack.

But she had stopped the police car dead and Carl had gone right through the windshield and his face was cut in what looked like a hundred different places and his lips were split and all his front teeth were loose to the touch. Somehow he had managed to keep his lead foot on the throttle through the whole thing and, therefore, saved their lives.

Or at least kill her, which was what counted.

Cat still managed to bitch at him about being slow and Carl had angrily snarled back that he had changed cars and gotten moving again within thirty goddamn seconds and let's see Cat do it that fast and Cat had asked him if he knew how far a vampire could move in thirty seconds?

“How far?” he snorted.

“Nobody knows, Joplin,” Cat shot back, “because there's so many oceans in the way!”

And it was meant to be funny but no one really laughed because they were all going to have to do it again two more times in an hour and a half and...

And nobody thought this was going to work.

Jack knew this, saw it in their faces, and didn't care, didn't give a shit because there was no other choice!

So, “Rock and roll,” be barked and got his cast inside again, into the dusty glare of the spolights and the cool dryness Of the air conditioning, which had stayed working all along somehow. While the others got into their positions, Jack walked over and looked at the elevator car. Pig's blood and broken glass were all over the walls and ceiling. There was a large pool of it on the floor.

Jack had nothing to replace their bait. No more blood. No other aquarium. But he thought, from the memory of her feeding frenzy, that just that poo1 on the floor would be enough to entice.

Or maybe not, bethought calmly and lit a cigarette. What does it matter?

“We're all going to die anyway,”-he muttered and then caught himself. Did he say that? Hell, did he say that out loud?

And he turned and looked at the others, at Cat clambering back atop the elevator, at the priest with his crossbow and the deputy with his puny pike and at the gunman with his dark thoughts and dark skills and he thought...

He thought: Why are we doing this? Why? This is crazy!

And that scared him most of all because he had never, in all the fears and kills and slaughtered friends, had such thoughts. And he wondered if he was going soft and then another part of his head stepped forward and quietly whispered that anyone can be pushed too far and there is such a thing as too much and for just an instant the desire to quit was so strong he thought he would weep.

But he did not.

Neither did he work it out. Not at all. He just stood there for a few seconds to be sure the tears had stopped welling and then mechanically shoved himself ahead, going through the motions instead of dealing with it and feeling like a cheat whenever he met another's eyes because he knew they would never try again unless they thought he believed and... Did he?

“Rock and roll!” he muttered angrily one more time, because none of this shit really mattered, because it still had to be tried, because...

Because. . . well, because “Rock & Roll,” dammit!

And he looked around and made sure everyone was in place and set to go and then he just damn well got on with it.

The screens monitoring the cells were clear of streaks or ghostly movement, which only meant they weren't moving around down there, so Jack reached forward and flipped a switch to send the elevator down a second time and give 'em something to move for..

There was some creaking and groaning from the battered elevator car but it started down. Without doors on it, all could see it move, see its ceiling pass the floor, see the cables and wires sprouting from the top, see it stop with a truly horrible sound of grinding twisting metal.

And stay stopped, within six inches of the floor.

Jack muttered something under his breath and tried the switch again. The car acted like it wanted to move, sort of shivering in place, but it basically wouldn't budge. Jack sighed and flipped the switch off.

“You want me to call Carl?” asked Father Adam.

Jack stood up from the screens. “I don't know. Hold a second.”

“I think,” offered Cat from his perch atop the elevator shaft, “that it's just stuck on something.”

“Okay,” replied Crow. “Everybody else hold tight.”

He walked around the TV screens, still carrying his crossbow, and went over to have a look. With his free hand he picked up one of the spotlights and took it with him, the cord hissing dryly behind him as he walked.

Cat hopped down to the - floor as Crow got there and pointed down at a corner of the shaft.

“Looks like it's jamming up in there somehow.”

Crow nodded, put his crossbow down, and lit a cigarette.

“It's never worked really great,” offered the deputy from just behind him.

Crow turned to the voice and saw that everyone, even Felix, had crowded up behind him to see.

Are we undisciplined? wondered Crow to himself. Or just afraid to be alone?

But he said nothing, just puffed on his cigarette.

It was almost like, he thought idly, Somebody was trying them not to do this.

Well, fuck that!

“Here,” he said to Cat, holding out the spotlight, “hold this.”

Cat took the light, frowning. “What are you gonna do?”

“I'm gonna get this sonuvabitch unstuck,” growled Crow and stepped up to the edge.

What Crow was planning to do was just step on the roof there, on that corner Cat had pointed to, and just sorta hop up and down until he felt something give and then go back to Carl's little remote control box and try again.

• And he'd begun doing that. Stepping out .onto the top of the car, bracing himself first on the edge of the doorway and then on the walls of the shaft itself. And the whole assembly groaned and creaked when he stepped on it and he could feel it giving just a little right away and he thought about jumping back out before it fell or something but then it seemed to be more or less stable so he stayed put. But he looked quickly around for something to grab in case the whole

damn thing went and as he did his eyes crossed across the hole they'd cut in the roof for Cat to drop his gas balloons and he saw, there on the floor of the elevator car, a brand new hole, a hole that had been torn in the floor, a hole that hadn't been there five minutes ago, had it?

And then something obscured his view and he saw and recognized the face, that face..

“Oh, my God. ..”

And the face smiled and said, “Crow” in that voice.

Crow was throwing himself backward out of the shaft to safety when the top of the car blew out and the air was filled with shrapnel and everybody else hit the deck and Jack, still on the floor, grabbed his crossbow out of Cat's hands and yelled, “Get back! It's him!”

But it was too late. He had already begun to rise from the hole he had just made and it was really the effortless way he did this that froze them so. The way he simply raised himself with the grip of a single beautiful hand, almost levitating toward them, his power and eyes and smile and terrible beauty so alien but so familiar, so pale but so solid, so horrible but so magnetic.

He wore black leather boots that laced to just below the knee and black ballet tights and a black silk sash and a huge white billowy shirt and he was magnificent and beautiful and scary and ungodly strong and the instant, almost spasmodic, desire to harm him was strong and deep and true but so, somehow, was something just as strong and deep-the itch to do something that would make him smile.

But he was smiling already as he strode casually toward them.

Jack took a step back and raised his crossbow.

He/It smiled more broadly and the white teeth against that pale skin surrounded by the fall of curly jet-black hair and... The headband, Jack thought. He's wearing a white headband. That means something.

Doesn't it?

And he raised the crossbow higher.

“Crow,” it said and its voice filled them. “You and your wooden stakes. When you are one of us, we'll have a big laugh together about them.”

This was looking grim.

“Everybody back,” ordered Crow. “Back away and out.”

But before anyone could move, the voice came once more: “Too late. You've let me get too close.”

And he/it took another casual step toward them.

“Get back!” ordered Crow again over his shoulder. “Move it!”

And they started to obey but the vampire took another step and Jack raised the crossbow all the way then, to firing position, and said, “Hold it there.”

And the thing laughed and said, "Are you joking? Why? I'm not one of my women.~~

“Stop!” said Jack Crow.

And the thing smiled more and showed the big teeth and said, “Stop me.”

And Jack Crow said, into his radio headset, “Hit it, Joplin!” and fired his massive crossbow at point-blank range.

The vampire caught it. In midair.

And then it took the baseball-bat-sized arrow bolt in both hands and, with a flick of his wrists, like a breadstick, broke it.

And the cable went taught and the piece still connected was zipped out of sight through the door and the vampire laughed again.

“You fools!” it said. “Did you really think you could slay gods and face no penalty?”

And it took the other half of the bolt, the pointed end, and hurled it straight down at its feet and the point disappeared completely out of sight into the floor.

Felix's gun was in his hand. He raised it.

The vampire turned sharply to him at the motion.

“You point that toy at me and I will, quite literally, rip your spine from your body.”

Felix damn near dropped the pistol to the floor. Just from that voice.

Crow wasn't finished.

“Lights!” he yelled and keyed his on and there was a brief pause but then every one of them did the same and the halogen crosses burst forth and crisscrossed the wicked form and the thing frowned and winced and took a step back and raised a hand to shield his eyes.

“He doesn't like it!” announced Crow excitedly.

But the vampire just snorted in derision and said, “Why no, Crow. I don't like it. But this won't kill me either.”

And it took a step forward once more.

“Anything else?” it asked and the voice was dry and sarcastic. “Garlic, maybe? Rabbit's foot?” And it looked straight at Crow. "Well, Pope's little altar boy. Very weli.'~

And he started toward Crow and they all saw, in the glare from their lights, the clear liquid seeping from beneath the headband and suddenly Crow understood and, better, so did Felix. The silver-cross wound. The wound that would not heal.

Felix raised his pistol.

“I told you not to do that!” snapped the monster.

“So you did,” replied Felix and fired three times and got him maybe two times? At least once, for sure, for sure, and then Team Crow scattered as one for the exit, for that big broad double door with sunshine beyond it and Felix skidded he took off so fast-had no idea where the monster was, he had practically disappeared he had moved so fast and then Felix felt this rush of air past his cheek and thought, My God, could it be? Could anything move so fast? It couldn't already be in front of me.

The monster loomed in front of him, glaring pale in the bobbing halogen cross. It reached forward and snatched the pistol from Felix's hand and, hissing slow and deep and wet, raised the gun in front of Felix's face and . .

squeezed it. .

and crushed it.

Crushed it like it was made of soft chocolate.

And Felix, unarmed and helpless, thought of this hissing thing which could rush thirty feet when he could only make two steps-with a bullet in it. This thing that could crush an automatic revolver.

And he looked into the blood-red eyes and saw the fangs go back and knew he was going to die...

when the double doors came open fifteen feet behind the vampire, and from head to heels, he burst immediately into scarlet pulsing flame.

The monster turned instinctively toward the pain, and ice-cold spittle splashed Felix as the monster's face spun away from him and for just an instant the two of them, the monster and the gunman, saw Carl Joplin large and fat standing holding the doors open, huffing and puffing and then the monster was looking at Felix again and screeching and Felix knew it would kill him as it raced past him into the shadows and he drew and fired his second Browning and the silver bullet made a neat hole in the dead center of the headband and Felix dropped to the floor to avoid those claw/hands that flashed but the monster was already gone in a howling streak of scarlet popping flame, across the floor, all fifty feet of it and slamming into the elevator shaft and down through the hole it had made and out of sight.

And the howling. And the flicker of red flame still hanging in the air and reflected in the elevator shaft.

Then quiet. Quiet. The flame dissipating. Quiet. Still.

Felix looked up from his squat on the floor and saw all the others. They hadn't managed to move five feet the entire time and now they just stood there and stared at him and he thought: it was me, all me, just killing me, just flashing fangs at me.