Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) (21 page)

“I dunno, forty maybe. Why?”

The vamp cupped his ear, listening hard.

“Smithy?”

“Fuck it. They’ve got a jet boat.”

“So?” She knew what they were but beyond that she hadn’t a clue
why that made a difference. A boat was a boat. She had a couple of big engines.
So did they. Big whoop.

Smithy moved closer and asked, “Y’all done this before?”

Yes and no. Certainly not in such a confined space. And not when the
stakes were so high. She raised an eyebrow as the decibel level of the
approaching craft ramped up to deafening.

“I didn’t think so. Ma’am, better let me…” he paused and pointed,
“…here they come.”

“Take it.” Magda stepped back, allowing Smithy to assume her place
at the helm. One look at the sleek high performance craft slip-sliding around
the ninety degree turn and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they were
out-classed.

Smithy muttered, “Sea-Doo,” as he opened the throttle, the twin
Mercury outboards struggling to move the Vee-shaped bow through the inky water.

The jet boat hull skipped over the calm canal surface like a flat
stone, accelerating from nothing to gone in a flash while they floundered to
make headway.

“Ain’t all bad, missy.”

Magda stared at Smithy, seriously pissed. Nobody but nobody called
her ‘missy’, ever. And why hadn’t the bright light who’d stolen this
piece-o-shit floating barge found something that could actually move like it
wasn’t in a no-wake zone?

Even with their enhanced vision, there wasn’t a lot to see. The
bonfire on the rise that used to be Trinity’s hidey-hole faded behind them
while the lights from the city to the northwest bounced off a lowering and
thickening cloud deck. It smelled and tasted like rain.

Curious, Magda finally asked, “Why’s it not bad?”

“They’ve got acceleration that we don’t and they’ll hit top speed
over fifty if those engines are what I think they are.”

She interrupted before he could deliver the good news with a
“Shit.”

“Yes’m, but that don’t come without a price.” The man looked smug
as the hull finally responded, skimming the surface and accelerating rapidly.

“Price? I don’t understand.”

She wasn’t in the mood for Nautical Fun 101 but there wasn’t much
to see or do until they actually came within range of the craft. Their target’s
running lights bobbed and wove ahead of them but the distance appeared to stay
relatively fixed, neither pulling away or shortening. Not that they needed a
fixed point of reference with their engines screeching like banshees. They’d be
waking everybody on the whole damn peninsula at that rate.

Smithy was mouthing something but she hadn’t been paying attention
so she said, “Huh?” and let him start over.

“Performance, love. They’re a bitch to handle unless ya know what
you’re doing. What’re the odds these boys do?”

Magda grinned. Smithy was going to be her new BFF.

When she didn’t answer, Smithy asked, “Uh, do ya know if it’s a
straight shot?”

He meant did the canal bend and twist any. It did. He looked at
her expectantly.

“No, it isn’t. There’s a serious dogleg, left, forty-five degree
angle, about a mile and a half from the feeder canal. Then I’m guessing there’s
gonna be docks as we get closer to the highway. We’ll be dodging shit once we
make the turn but it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“Crap, there’s a bridge, maybe a mile or so past the turn. It runs
into a feeder road like the one back there, “she waved a hand behind her, “and
it parallels the canal all the way to the four lane.”

“So they don’t have to get all the way to the car rental place, is
that right?”

“Damn it, it looks that way.” She was furious with herself. Why
hadn’t she seen all those possibilities earlier, not that it would have made
much difference. It’d gone way past coulda, woulda, shoulda. She’d have to deal
with what was handed to her.

“Thing is… they don’t need to offload there, just leave a man. And
we’d be…”

“…sitting ducks,” she finished.

Smithy pursed his lips and concentrated on steering. The canal was
wide enough for two boats to pass comfortably but that didn’t leave room for
mistakes. She looked back at the rooster tail shimmering silver grey and
silently prayed.

Hang on, Damien. I’m coming.

She couldn’t hear him or feel him, hadn’t been able to since this
all started. Her chest, her skull vibrated in the roar of the engines, blanking
out thought.

Dropping to all fours she fumbled with the latch on the metal
rectangular box partially shoved under the bench seat. Removing the RPG-22, she
hefted it to her shoulder, getting a feel for the weight and balance. It was
single use so she’d have only seconds to determine the correct target.

“Dogleg, dead ahead. See that?” Smithy did a chin point, not
daring to take his hands off the wheel.

The Sea-Doo skittered and fishtailed as it negotiated the turn,
the running lights wavering in the humid mist rising off the water. Smithy
managed to coax additional rpms out of their engines, closing the gap. They hit
the turn, easing through it, then straightened and forged ahead, the hull
bouncing slightly in the wake from the other boat.

Magda leaned close and shouted into Smithy’s ear over the whine of
the engines, “They’ll stop to offload at the bridge. It’ll either be a gunner
to take us out or they’ll move Damien to a vehicle, or both. Either way we need
to take out the bridge and the shooter.” She didn’t bother with ‘otherwise we
won’t be around to follow after Damien or anyone else.’

“Let’s make it both, girlfriend.” Smithy gave her a toothy smile.

“One shot, that’s all this sucker’s good for.”

“That ain’t the only projectile we got.”

“Oh.” Damn. Smithy could call her whatever he damn well pleased.
He was diabolical.

“You swim?”

“Like a fish, darlin’.”

“Okay, here’s the play. There’s only two of them plus Damien in
the boat. One’s going onto the bridge, the other’s going to have to muscle
Damien to the vehicle, probably with a driver to help, but I’m only guessing.
But Damien’s big and he’s dead weight and a rocking boat isn’t going to help.”

“You want me to handle the bridge and the other?”

“If you can. Leave me off a couple of seconds before. I’ll make
sure the vehicle’s not going anywhere.”

“Howzat?”

She opened her vest, displaying a deadly collection of throwing
stars and short-handled blades. Smithy looked impressed but his expression
turned thoughtful.

“Take my Sig. Just to make sure.”

“You’re a good man, Smithy.”

“That’s what all the ladies say… Heads up, they’re slowing. Get
yourself ready… and good luck.”

The man eased them closer to the canal edge without reducing
speed, cutting through thick vegetation and branches poking from the low bank.
Magda braced on the transom, the foothold narrow and slick with spray, giving
the rapidly approaching bank her undivided attention. At better than thirty
miles an hour she didn’t want to hit the ground wrong and waste precious seconds.

Smithy fed her information. “The man’s on the bridge already,
setting up. I can’t see no vehicle but looks like they’re moving a body to
higher ground.” The boat lurched once, twice, as the starboard chines scrapped
the edge of the levee.

It felt a lot like bumper cars, seriously jostling her, the
footing precarious at best.

Smithy shouted, “NOW!” and launched the rocket. She felt rather
than heard the backblast from the solid propellant motor, her right calf taking
the brunt of it. She’d have some serious burns to contend with later.

If there was a later.

She hit the ground awkwardly, slipping down the short slope, until
a tangle of weeds or brush halted the skid. Cursing roundly, she scrambled up
the bank, ignoring the thunderous explosions to her left. She couldn’t even
think about Damien, whether or not they’d successfully off-loaded him far
enough before their little world turned into hell on earth.

Or even if Smithy had managed to get off their speedboat before
smashing it into the stern of the Sea-Doo.

She dodged around chunks of burning bridge littering the ground,
circling, desperate to find the vehicle. The glare and flames robbed her of her
night vision; she ran on instinct, not bothering with stealth.

She had one and only one chance.

Samuels was reluctant to abandon the humans to the swamp but he
had a suspicion it wasn’t over yet. They had Damien but he hadn’t been their
primary target. Trinity was after bigger fish. And with both himself and Rinj
to choose from that made for a very attractive all you can kill buffet.

Rinj. Did you eliminate your targets?

Yes and yes.

Good. Then get your sorry ass to the limo and make sure Catrina’s
alright.

Copy that. Way ahead of you.

Get her to safety. That’s priority one.

And the driver?

Samuels wasn’t sure about Rinj’s tone of voice. He sounded oddly…
concerned. Fearful.

Take him, leave him, I don’t care. I’ll leave that up to you.

Might not matter…

Samuel’s was on the edge of reaming out his second in command but
he held his temper and waited.

Looks like he’s about to die of happiness…

A hand on Samuels’ arm distracted him from pursuing Rinj’s cryptic
statement.

“Sir, the bridge has been taken, the humans will be cut off.
They’ve got boats patrolling close in but I expect they’ll be coming this way
soon enough.”

“Thanks, Jonas. You and Bill, go find the humans. Get them to
safety with as few casualties as possible.”

“Rendezvous point at alpha murray?”

“Yeah. We’ll have pickup arranged by the time you get there. Hold
tight.” That was a promise he felt confident in rendering. The only problem was…
could they get rescuers there before sunrise?

That thought had obviously crossed his lieutenant’s mind but he
only said, “Yessir,” and didn’t press for assurances.

“And, Jonas? I’d take it as a special favor if you saw to Captain
Reese’s security for me.”

The man nodded he understand his assignment and left to
reconnoiter with the humans.

Samuels regretted he could not see to the woman’s safety
personally. But he needed to discover exactly what forces Trinity had brought
to the field. This was way more than a few dis-satisfied young bucks looking to
put notches on their stakes.

Rinj and the others had warned him about the risks to coming in a
group to New Orleans. With so much instability in their own backyard it should
have come as no surprise that the cancer had spread to their second most
important Haven.

He’d been lured here by his ego and arrogance, prepared to put on
a good show and make a statement. Whoever was behind this was shitting blue
bricks at the thought of Damien taking over the subculture venues in the Big
Apple, and they didn’t mind letting him and the rest of the Council know of
their displeasure.

That meant getting Damien back safely
and
getting him up to
Gotham alive and kicking. Then he would see how the pieces fell together.

He took two long strides and cleared the canal in a single leap. A
small neighborhood of vacation cottages, most still buttoned up that early in
the season, loomed to his right. He angled to the southwest, loping through the
barren yards, circling to come up behind whoever held the bridge.

He needed names but faces would do.

Damn, he wished he could fly…

The vehicle sat at an angle to the sandy road, about fifty yards
upstream of the bridge. Some debris had showered around the sedan but it didn’t
look as if the fireworks had wreaked any damage.

Magda stayed to the marshy side, dodging around brush and the
occasional tree, until she came parallel with the car. Two men stood near the
trunk, arguing in what sounded like Spanish. She could hear them just fine but
she didn’t habla the language well enough to catch more than a word or two.

Damien was either in the trunk or on the back seat. She couldn’t
risk putting out feelers just in case the vamps had that particular skill set.
Most didn’t but there was no way to tell in advance.

She’d planned on taking out the vehicle knowing that she might be
stranded, with Damien still comatose and sunrise not all that far off. Her
plan, such as it was, involved spending the day with her Sire immersed in a
cesspool of slimy water, dodging outboard props and fish hooks. Despite the
amusement value with having Damien freak out over his phobia, it didn’t take a
genius to realize that wasn’t a very good first choice.