Fangtabulous (13 page)

So what if part of me thought that if Bobby truly loved me, he’d have been strong enough to throw off the compulsion to kill me? That was just romantic drivel anyway, right? Who knew how strong possession could be? Who was to say he hadn’t fought his damnedest and it hadn’t been enough? But deep inside, I realized that the very fact that I
couldn’t
know, that I had doubts, might be the first nail in our coffin.

The fact that Bobby had doubts about me—putting him in the trunk, going off with Ulric earlier in the night—
created more nails or wedges or whatever kind of construction
metaphor worked. I didn’t know. Maybe a relationship was like a house of cards. You knock out the trust base and it all came tumbling down.

But none of that was going to get dealt with in a sentence or two … with witnesses.

I blinked first and looked away. His blue eyes were like an ice ray with all the warmth gone out of them. If I kept looking, I’d freeze up. Brent and Eric didn’t have time for that.

So we hatched a plan, though not without a lot of back-and-forth over who was going to do what, and Bobby growing more remote with every passing second. Given his amazing powers, he was used to being a linchpin in any plan. Now he was a liability, sidelined through no fault of his own … and by his own girlfriend. I couldn’t even imagine what he was going through.

• • •

The plan started with Marcy stabbing herself in the parking lot. There was blood everywhere. She made sure of it.

Ulric lifted her almost like he had vampire strength, or she weighed no more than a feather. He waited for Nelson and me to go through the emergency room doors ahead of him so that we could be in place to slip unnoticed into the treatment area at the moment of maximum distraction. Then, just as the doors were sliding closed behind us, he strode onto the pressure plate with Marcy, bouncing the doors open again and stepping dramatically through the entrance.

“Help me!” he yelled. “Somebody help me! My girlfriend—she’s been stabbed. I don’t think she’s going to make it.”

Heads swiveled around, in the waiting room, from the reception area. Someone came running—a nurse in scrubs far too cheerful for the situation. She took one look at Marcy and the extreme pallor of her face and radioed for someone to “bring a gurney, stat!”

“Hurry!” Ulric shouted, reinforcing the urgency. “She’s so still. I think she’s stopped breathing!”

As the door to the inner treatment areas opened for the gurney to rush through, Nelson and I were in the perfect position to slip inside after it. No one paid us any attention. We hurried to the first curtained area and whipped the curtain back, hoping to find Eric or Brent. What we saw instead was a little boy on a breathing machine, his whole body shuddering with each breath, like every one was a struggle. The tech administering the treatment gave us a hard look at the disturbance. We apologized and quickly backed out, making noises like we’d gotten the wrong room. The curtain on the next cubicle was open with no one inside, so we moved on to the one after that …

“What do you think you’re doing?” a nurse asked, clipboard clutched like a shield over her chest. “Unless you’re with someone, you can’t be back here.”

Nelson turned, his thick Cro-Mag brows smooshing together in concern. “My uncle was brought here,” he said, “in an ambulance.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You checked in at the front desk?”

“Yes. They said he’s here.”

“No one escorted you back?”

“She got called off for a stabbing victim.”

The nurse looked at us for another moment, then the door behind us was flung open again—the crash team coming through with Marcy, a worried-looking Ulric trailing them. One of the team looked over at the nurse. “Is Surgery One open?”

The nurse’s eyes went wide, and she nodded. To us she called, “Other side of the nurses’ station, last room,” and she hurried off.

Score! Now it was up to Marcy to make a miraculous recovery and Ulric to get her out of there before anyone could take so much as a blood sample. Eric and Brent were our responsibility.

We hit that last curtain with no further challenges, and Nelson peeked behind it.

“They’re alone,” he said.

We slipped inside. Eric and Brent were on adjoining beds, the former awake, the latter looking vampire-pale.

“Brent’s alive,” Eric said, his voice still a little thready, like his pulse had been back at the van. “Doctors think he had a minor heart attack. They want to run some tests.”

Nelson rushed to his side and began pulling out tubes as his uncle talked. “Do they know who you are?” he asked. “Did they find any ID on you?”

Eric was shaking his head. “We’re too smart for that,” he said, tapping a hand, still trailing tape, to his forehead. “But it made them very suspicious. Police want to talk to me about driving without a license and all. I claimed amnesia, a concussion when the car’s electrical system seized up.” He grinned. “I blamed an ungrounded power line and said something about suing the city. Kicked up quite the fuss. Medical guys finally shooed the police out because I was getting too worked up, but I don’t think they’re finished with me.”

“They are now,” Nelson said, helping him out of bed.

I checked Brent over. He hadn’t so much as moved, and I was getting really concerned. “What did the doctors say about Brent? Is he okay?”

“He was snoring a little bit ago,” Eric said. “Almost dying will take a lot out of you. He’s got a goose egg on the back of his head, but swelling out rather than in is a good sign.”

People were calling back and forth to each other in the hallway—orders, observations, in some cases just friendly chatter—but one voice caught my attention and lit up my
holy crap
o-meter.

“ … called down, said something about a stabbing.”

It was the killer cop. I knew from the chill that settled into my heart. We were out of time.

“Eric, can you walk?” I asked quickly. He nodded. “Nelson, can you carry Brent?” He nodded as well, baffled at my sudden urgency.

“In about ten seconds, there ought to be so much commotion that you can walk right on out of here.”

“But—”

“
That
was the possessed cop. I’m sure of it. He’s heading toward Marcy, and she’s his favorite type of victim—female.”

“Crap,” Nelson spat. I thought it warranted a whole lot more than that, but it would do for now.

12

I
raced down the hall, circled the central station, and vaulted a crash cart that was wheeled out in front of me. Someone yelled, someone else grabbed, but I was already gone. I burst through the closed curtains of the cubicle I’d seen Marcy wheeled into and found Ulric and an orderly unconscious on the floor, and Marcy fighting for her life.

I knew the strangling couldn’t do her in, since she didn’t need air, but the killer inside the cop had some preternatural strength behind his grip. If it was enough to decapitate her, that would be true death. Even just a snapped neck would incapacitate her long enough for a killing blow if he figured out her secret. The cop’s eyes were bugging out from the effort it took to choke the life out of my friend. The frustration of failure was clearly starting to get to him, and I knew any second he’d change his tactics.

I launched myself onto him before that could happen. He tried to buck me off, like a dog shaking himself after a bath, but I hung on, giving as good as I got or better. I didn’t dare give him the chance to call for help, but dug into his neck for all I was worth, trying to cut off
his
air. Human form meant human foibles.

But he didn’t let go of Marcy. Instead, he dragged her from the bed, his hands gripping her neck. Then he whirled with me on his back, slamming me against the counter that ran along the one actual wall of the cubicle and cracking my back. I fought not to let go. As she struggled, Marcy’s legs belled out the curtain into the adjoining cubicle, but if anyone squawked it was drowned out by the roaring in my ears. With my hands around the cop’s neck, still choking off his air, his pounding heart and rushing blood were so close to me that they sounded like a storm raging.

My fangs nicked my lips as they dropped into place and instinct took over. I shifted my grip for better access and sank my teeth into his neck, close to the jugular. Instantly, he went rigid beneath me.

Marcy hit his forehead with her own, and his grip on her relaxed. She hit him again and he released. She dodged before he could grab her back, and he went down hard onto his knees—from concussion or blood loss, I didn’t care. His blood raced through my system. Powerful, potent, spiked with adrenaline and all kinds of other craziness that made me want to howl at the moon.

Something else seemed to transfer with that blood. Someone, or ones, else burst into the room, but I couldn’t spare them any attention—something was moving within me. Something alien. In panic, I let my fangs slip from the cop’s neck and he crashed to the floor. I tore at my hair as something rifled through my brain, as if I could tear it out by the roots—not my hair, the
thing
.

It was putrefaction. Vile, evil, rot and ruin, poison. Hatred, disgust, lust … more than my vampire bloodlust. The lust for pain and suffering.

“What’s going on here?” the new arrival demanded.

I turned, and the thing inside … saw. It saw the newcomer—the killer cop’s beefy partner. It leapt. There was no other word. There was a tearing—as if it took some of me with it—and then it was gone, leaving chaos behind.

I staggered, disoriented. The killer cop was down, but … was he really? I looked from his collapsed form up into the now-crazed eyes of his partner and knew the true killer was still with us. He’d just changed vehicles.

Apparently, though, he was going easier on his new host than he had me, because the only pain in those eyes was promised to others.

I aimed a blow for the new cop’s nose, pulling my punch just enough, I hoped, not to drive the nasal arch up into his brain like we’d been taught in spy training. Luckily, the killer hadn’t yet figured out all the bells and whistles on his new toy, and he didn’t react quickly enough to stop me.

“Run!” I said to Marcy as he went down. I grabbed Ulric off the floor and ran with him, back the way we’d come, heading for the exit.

The newly possessed officer bellowed for backup. Medical staff dodged into or out of our way as we made our mad dash for the doors. It was like running an obstacle course, though with ninja-vamp reflexes.

The universe seemed to be on the side of us fallen angels. As we spilled out into the reception area, a man was coming through the sliding glass doors from the outside. They hadn’t yet closed behind him. We were able to slip right through.

Nelson had Ulric’s Crown Vic idling just outside the doors. The trunk—where we’d left Bobby—looked bashed and battered, half ripped away. The car doors flung open for us as we approached. I threw Ulric into the back seat with Brent, and Marcy and I dove on top of him. Nelson peeled away as the door closed on my foot and sprang open again, air whooshing through the car and trying to suck me out with it. Eric leaned over from the front seat, shoved at my foot, and grabbed the door shut.

Fear roared through me. “Where’s Bobby?” I asked, looking around like I could have missed him somehow. Like the battered trunk didn’t mean what I thought it did.

“Gone,” Nelson said, his tone dripping apology. “When I got to the car he was already gone.”

“We have to find him! What if whatever’s driving him doesn’t know to get out of the sun before it rises? He’ll be vaporized.”

I could just hear Bobby in my head:
that would mean turned into vapor,
but actually the reverse would be true
… he’d be turned into ash. I wished he was there to correct me in person. I never thought I’d miss his lectures, but … I did. Terribly.

“So far he’s been Bobby more than he’s been … whoever. I don’t think the spirit can keep control for too long,” Brent said. Probably he meant it to be soothing.

“I don’t like that ‘so far.’”

The car hit a pothole and we all jumped. My teeth clacked together on top of it, and sent a ringing through my head.

“I guess I’ll be the first to bring up the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room,” Eric said into the sudden silence.

Nelson groaned. “I think you mean elephant.”

“But that makes no sense,” his uncle said. “Elephants weight far more than eight hundred pounds—”

“No, it’s eight-hundred-pound gorilla,
or
the elephant in the room,” Nelson corrected his uncle. “Not both. We’ve talked about this. Stop trying to use vernacular. You’re no good at it.”

“Well, of course, they wouldn’t
both
fit in the room,” Eric answered, completely missing the point.

I rolled my eyes. “Guys, can we focus?”

“My point
is
,” Eric said, “that we have to call the Feds and get out of town, just like Brent said. We may not like their methods, and Nelson and I are still committed to bringing down their detention centers, but this case is getting too much attention. The news, the Ghouligans, the cops.
Killer
cops.”

“You think the Feds aren’t already on their way?” Brent asked. “With all this attention, they may not be coming for
us
. They may not know we’re here. But I can almost guarantee you that they’re at least coming to search out new supernatural assets, and maybe even to solve the mystery.”

“See,” Eric said, raking us all with his gaze. “If they’re in, we’ve
got
to get
out
.”

“No,” I said. “We are
not
leaving Bobby behind.”

I caught Nelson’s gaze in the rearview mirror. If anyone could talk sense into his uncle, he could. “Tell them, Nelson,” I insisted.

He looked away, and my heart sank. “I’m sorry, Gina. As you say, we’re already a man down. If the Feds are coming … there’s no way I’m getting sent to one of their hellholes. I signed on for destroying those places. We’re not doing that here. We’re not doing anything here but busywork—day jobs and all that. This was just supposed to be a short stop to replenish our finances but instead we’re getting attacked, sidetracked.”

“You don’t think whatever’s stalking Salem needs to be taken down every bit as much as those hellholes?”

“This is for the greater good,” Eric said for him. “We can’t save anyone if we’re locked up. But free—”

I cut him off. It sounded like an excuse. Like good-bye. “Brent?” I asked.

He was crushed in against the far wall, Ulric half on top of him. He looked at Marcy before looking back at me. “I’m not leaving a man behind. I’m still all for destroying the detention centers, but right now we don’t have any leads. If the Feds do send a team, maybe we can track them back to a center.”

“If you don’t get caught and sent there yourself,” Eric mumbled.

“Then we’ll take it down from the inside,” Brent argued.

If Marcy wouldn’t kill me for it, I’d have kissed him right then. I finally drew my gaze to hers, but she only had eyes for Brent, and they were shining with love.

“Marcy?” I asked.

“What he said,” she answered. Then, realizing that it sounded a little follow-y, she added, “I mean, it’s Best Friends Forever, right? Not BFFN.”

“BFFN?” Brent asked.

“
Best Friends For Now
. You didn’t leave Brent when he was in the hospital. I’m not leaving Bobby.”

The world took on a rosy haze, and I realized I had blood tears in my eyes.

“Thank you.” My voice cracked embarrassingly.

“I never thought I’d say this,” came a muffled voice from beneath me, “but please get off of me. And unless you’ve suddenly become sunproof, you might want to pull over and let me drive you all to safety before dawn.”

Marcy and I shifted to let Ulric sit up. Nelson pulled the car to the side of the road and we all had the least-fun-ever Chinese fire drill.

“Sure you’re okay to drive?” I asked Ulric. “You were just out cold.”

“Not like it’s the first time,” he answered.

We were silent the rest of the ride to Donato’s place.

Ulric soon pulled into the driveway of a dark, wood-shingled house, its front entryway nearly overgrown with ivy. We piled out of the car and approached the door, Ulric in the lead. I realized that the ivy wasn’t the only thing overgrown—the front lawn looked like it’d been given over to the weeds, and they’d thrown a party and invited friends. The only statuary was a store-bought zombie that looked like it was trying to pull itself up out of the ground.

“A little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” Eric asked.

“Oh, he’s got that out year-round. You should see what he does for Halloween.”

Ulric rang the bell, which played five deep tones that sounded like “Do-De-Doom-Dum-Doom.”

“Cheery,” I said.

Ulric gave me a grin.

I wasn’t prepared for Donato to look so … normal … after all that. I’d only ever seen him all done up for the Gothic Magic Show, but he met us at the door in bare feet, jeans, and a long-sleeved gray henley.

“Welcome,” he said, stepping aside to let us pass. “Good thing you called ahead. I’m usually dead to the world by now.” If he noted our bedraggled and bloodied state—and how could he not?—he didn’t say a word.

The foyer inside was lined with bookshelves of the old floor-to-ceiling library variety, only there were few actual books involved. Instead, there were skulls, things I didn’t want to examine too closely floating in jars of fluid, spiders and scorpions encased in glass, and what looked like a taxidermied, two-headed turtle. I kept my gaze straight ahead, not wanting to see any more. I wondered what Ulric meant when he’d said we’d fit right in. Did he mean “with all the other dead things”?

Of course, Eric was fascinated. He started asking questions immediately, and Donato, proud of his collection, began showing it off with a spiel for each object, like a museum guide. Nelson cleared his throat and reminded his uncle that it’d been a long day and many of us needed our sleep. Like right now. Donato looked disappointed until Eric indicated that he’d love to continue the tour as soon as everyone else was settled.

Settled
was apparently a relative term, since there was nothing at all settling about the basement where he intended for us to bed down. Only a couple of small, high, blacked-out windows provided any access to the outside world. The cement floor and old-fashioned wood paneling made it look like someone had hastily refinished what was basically an oversized root cellar, used to store jam and canned beets in the olden days. The blacked-out windows made me wonder if, perhaps, we weren’t the first vamps to visit in modern days.

My first thought … fear … was
spiders
.

I must have said it out loud, because Donato said, “Don’t worry, I sprayed last week.”

“Great—
dead
spiders,” I answered. But I smiled to show that despite the comment I really was grateful to have a spider-infested basement in which to stay.

Donato smiled back, almost as if he bought it.

Ulric pulled him aside to talk, and the rest of us got comfy … ish. Last night, Bobby had been beside me. Tonight I didn’t know where he was. Or even who.