Blood Run (40 page)

Then she looked through the windshield again.

Evans was struggling with Riker…with what remained of Riker.

Riker was a blackened husk but somehow still moving. His skin had burned and burned again, bubbling and blistering, finally blackening over most of the exposed areas of his body. His eyelids were shriveled and useless, but still his eyes rolled, glowing with feverish light. His fingers–charred with bits of bone showing whitely through the gristle–scrabbled on Evans’ arms, and as Miller watched, one of Riker’s fingers broke off and fell past the dashboard out of sight.

He was pinned in the passenger side seat by a heavy limb that must have fallen right after they’d left him.

“Jesus Christ, he’s been changed!” Lu yelled, his voice full of rich horror. “Oh, Jesus, oh my Christ…he’s a vampire…oh Jesus…” He moaned with dread, his crossbow dropping.

Miller assessed the situation with lightning speed. Riker must have lived but been changed. Unable to exit the Humvee, he’d sat here over the last eight days or so, burning slowly with the little bit of sun that could penetrate the canopy of the fallen tree and the woods. And he was starving to death, too. It must have been pure torture.

When Evans had reached in to put the Humvee in neutral…

Miller turned and brought her crossbow to train on Riker’s torso. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but her face was calm, stoic. “Sorry, Commander,” she said in a whisper. Then she loosed one of the short, deadly arrows. It found a home in Riker’s chest, and his struggles ceased instantly.

Peter fell backward, still pulling, and dragged Evans from the Humvee. Evans landed on his stomach and face on the rutted road, and Peter tumbled onto his back and rolled onto his hands and knees.

Promise ran to him.

“Fuck!” Evans said and jumped up. He was shaking his head and running his hands over his arms as if to rid himself of the black, gritty dust Riker had left on him. His lip was bleeding. “Fuck fuck, fuck!”

“Were you bit!” Lu yelled, near hysterics, his voice breaking. “Were you bit! Were you bit!” His crossbow was back up and now trained on Evans. “Were you–”

“Lu! Stand down!” Miller yelled, and Lu dropped his bow at once and stepped back, panting.

His face was slack, shocky. He had lost his glasses. He looked at Miller, and his eyes were full of bemused, uncomprehending hurt, like a dog that had been run over but not killed. “The Commander was…he was a…he was…”

“He was FUCKED!” Evans yelled into Lu’s face, his own face livid with horrified anger; tears of rage stood at the corners of his reddened eyes.

Lu bent over and threw up.

Miller found Lu’s glasses on the road. She checked to make sure they weren’t broken and then brought them back to where he sat on the shoulder, drinking water. He looked up at her with an unsteady smile.

“Thanks, Boss. I appreciate it,” he said and pushed the glasses onto his face. He looked better right away. Less vulnerable, less shaky. Evans sat at his side.

Peter and Promise were a short distance away. Promise was folded into Peter’s arms, pressed to his chest, her head under his chin. She was only marginally aware of the soldiers. Her mind hummed along peacefully as she listened to Peter’s heart beating steadily beneath his shirt.

Evans considered them for a long moment and then pulled his eyes away. He punched Lu on the arm. “Quit being a big baby, Lu,” Evans said. “You’re making me sick to my stomach.”

Lu smiled at him. “Your lip is still bleeding, you idiot.”

“I’m glad everyone is back to normal,” Miller said with a mixture of disgust and genuine relief. “Dumbasses.”

Peter and Promise stepped apart, but he kept his arm around her.

“Hey, Peter,” Miller said, and he turned to her. “You’ve got some explaining to do,” she said with a half smile. Then she sobered. “But whatever the circumstances, I’m glad to have you back.” She turned her gaze to Evans and raised her eyebrows. “Some of us should be
really
glad.”

Evans’ face soured, but he stood and sneered at Miller before turning to Peter. “I’m glad…” he stopped and glanced back at Miller before continuing, “…
really
glad you’re back.” He put his hand out, and Peter shook it. “Not just for me, though,” Evans continued and glanced at Promise. Though still full of his trademark anger, his face softened. “I’m glad you’re back for her sake.” He reached out and gave Promise’s black ponytail a quick yank, and she smiled at him. “I think she’s missed you a little bit.” His eyes went back to Peter. “So what’s the story? Where–”

“Hold up,” Miller broke in and extended a hand to Lu to help him stand. “First things first, let’s get that Humvee off the road and get out of here. This is a bad place to be,” her eyes went back to Riker’s Humvee under the canopy of the fallen tree. His body had slid almost out of view, and she was glad of that small mercy.

Promise, who’d only known Riker a short time but had liked him instantly, understood how Miller felt. It had been a bad way to go, and it seemed to have poisoned this place with bad feeling.

Evans and Lu got Riker’s Humvee off the road, while Miller took the other Humvee to get the rest of their small convoy. Peter and Promise rode back with her.

“He’s really okay?” Promise said for third time. It was less a question by now than an incantation, a way to try and make it feel and be real. She was in the front seat, but had turned to where he sat in the back. Her arm was over the seat so she could hold his hand.

“He really is,” Peter said and squeezed her cold fingers. His voice was even and quiet. Promise got the impression that he was holding himself steady. Or in check. “We were right behind you, just about caught up, when I heard…when I heard Evans screaming.”

Miller glanced at him in the rearview mirror. She had a lot of questions, but they could wait until tonight.

They cleared the woods, and Promise turned to face forward. There was a small crowd near the bus, their faces happy as children’s in a petting zoo. A soldier stood among them, holding the horses by their reins.

Promise’s heart stopped beating as her eyes found Ash.

He was beautiful. His black coat shone with sweat, and his mane and tail flowed like silken oil in the bright sun. Even the long scar across his chest was beautiful to her.

He was here. And he was hers again.

She jumped from the slowing Humvee, and Miller yelled, “Hey!” but Promise ignored her. She ran to her horse.

“Ash!” she called. “Ash, I missed you!” Ash’s head came up, and he snorted. His head swung in her direction, and he whinnied, piercing the air. He pawed the ground, and the people crowded around stepped back in alarm.

Promise laughed even as tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she called again, “I missed you, too! I missed you so much!”

Ash ran to meet his mistress.

She couldn’t take her eyes from the sight of Peter rubbing a soft cloth down Ash’s legs. Snow stood next to Ash, her head drooping and eyes closing. One of her big back feet was cocked comfortably on the tip of its hoof. She was the reverse of Ash in more ways than color. While Ash was slender-legged, she was thick and powerful; where Ash was spirited, she was steady; as dark as he was, she was as light; and they had bonded deeply and completely when Peter had brought her to Wereburg.

Promise couldn’t make herself believe that she had them all back. It was like a miracle. Her eyes strayed to Peter, and her smile disappeared. He was different. Quiet and reserved. She had noticed it a little when they’d been reunited in the Refuge, but she was sure of it now.

He’d changed.

“Everyone seems comfortable,” Miller said, boosting herself up to sit next to Promise on a checkout stand. They were in an old Five and Dime, and although it was still light out, Miller had made sure everyone was in and prepared for the night. All the soldiers had worked to ensure that the store was clear of vampires and were now boarding up the front plate-glass windows.

Peter had led the horses into the office portion of the old building, saying that they would prefer the enclosed space, but Promise had sensed that at least part of his motivation was in wanting to separate himself from the other members of the group.

Miller followed her gaze. “How is he?” she asked.

“He’s okay, I mean, he doesn’t seem upset or anything,” Promise said. “But there is something different about him.”

“He’s quiet, I noticed that,” Miller said. “But maybe he’s just tired. It’s a lot longer ride on a horse than in a Humvee.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Promise said. “About how quickly he caught up to us.”

Miller looked startled, and then she frowned. “Well, we did have that day at Greenville. That could have given him time to catch up,” she said, but her frown deepened as doubt crept into her voice. “I’ll ask him if–”

“Can I talk to him alone first?” Promise said. “Would you mind?”

Miller shook her head. “Nope. Knock yourself out,” she said and eased herself down from her spot on the checker stand. She crossed her arms over her chest and surveyed the small group of people as they made space for themselves along the aisles and walls as the light disappeared behind the plywood boards the soldiers were putting in place. Most of the shelves had been cleared at some point in the past, but oddities still sat here and there like forlorn castoffs. Miller’s eyes went back to Promise. “Just let me know if he tells you anything that might, you know, jeopardize anyone.”

Promise nodded and waited until Miller had wandered away and was talking to a few of the lab people, then she went to the office.

“He looks good,” she said, and Peter turned to smile at her. Then he turned back to Ash. “Snow, too,” she said and patted the big white horse. “Tired, though, aren’t you, girl?”

Snow raised her head in acknowledgment and snorted lightly. Then her head dropped again, and Promise laughed. “I think sleeping is one of Snow’s favorite things.”

A ghost of a smile came and went on Peter’s face.

“Peter,” Promise said. “Are you all right?”

His hand slowed at its work, and then he turned, dropping the rag to a desk that had been pushed against the wall. His eyes were lowered. Promise was reminded of a time when Chance had been six and a bully at school was taking parts of his lunch every day. When Promise had asked him why he was so quiet, so sad, he’d had the same look that Peter had now: reluctance to tell, shame, embarrassed anger.

Peter mumbled something that she didn’t quite catch, but fear began to spread like hot liquid through her brain.

She closed the distance between them. “I didn’t hear you. Tell me again,” she said.

He raised his head, and the fire glowed deep in his eyes, sparking uncertainly. “It’s worse,” he said. “Ever since the lab, it’s gotten…I’ve gotten…more like them. More like a vampire. I caught up to you because I rode through the night. From just before sunset until just after dawn, I rode and nothing touched me, nothing even tried. I can feel it pulsing through me, making me…making me want to run with the moon, making me want to…even as I was helping Evans, I wanted to…to…”

“No, don’t say it,” Promise said, her voice harsh with fear. “That’s not who you are. You’re not a monster. You were just…” she shook her head and trailed off, thinking. Then she began again, and her voice was more sure. “Listen I think that what happened in the lab, the blood, the panic, Billet being changed, and you having to…to fight him…to…” she trailed off again and licked her lips. “It made you
feel
worse, like if you put a blanket on a person with a fever, they’ll
feel
worse, but you haven’t really changed. It’s temporary; I know it is. You fought it before, and you can fight it again!”

He gripped her arms and looked into her eyes. The fire in his eyes flared, seemingly in tandem with his agony, and his face was drawn in pale lines of horror. “Even now,” he said, and his voice broke. “Even now, as I look at you, I want…I want to…” his voice had dwindled down to a whisper, and his mouth opened and closed with no sound. His eyes still did not leave hers. When his voice came again, it was a hissing, agonized whisper. “I want to…to bite you. I can…
smell
…the blood in your veins, and I can hear it…I can
hear
it as it passes through your heart, and its heat…oh, God the
heat
and
salt
of it…I can–”

“Peter, stop!” Promise cried and stepped back, breaking his hold on her. She’d been staring at him, mesmerized, almost hypnotized. Now she felt the cool relief on the backs of her arms where his fingers had been digging in. She hadn’t realized just how hard he was gripping her until he let her go. She was going to have bruises. “You went through this before, and you have to do it again. That’s all! You have to fight it, Peter,” she said and gulped down a sob. Her breath hitched wildly. “You have to…to…”

“What’s going on?” Evans stood in the doorway to the office. His gaze went from Peter, standing with his hands fisted and eyes burning, to Promise who’d put her hands over her face. “Promise, step out,” he said.

Peter’s head snapped toward him, his features contracting in anger.

“Promise, step out. Peter and I need to talk,” Evans said, and his voice hadn’t changed–he maintained a calm, neutral tone–but his body was tense, ready.

“Peter?” Promise said, and he turned to face her. The rage drained out of him all at once. His shoulders and hands dropped, and the fire left his eyes completely. His face was full of tired anguish.

“Go on,” he told her. “It’s okay.”

She turned and stumbled past Evans, and Evans pulled the office door closed behind her. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts, then he turned to face Peter. “Are you a vampire, Peter? More than you were before?”

Peter’s head dropped, and he sank into a chair. He bent over, his head in his hands. “I don’t know. But I think so, yeah.” He looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Evan hesitated again, then drew up a chair next to Peter’s, and Peter looked at him in surprise. “What happened back there at the base?” Evans said. “How did you get out of it?”