Vampire Uprising (34 page)

“Of course I did! It just ain’t doin’ much more than slowin’ it down.”

“Doesn’t feel very slow to me!” Cole said.

Crouching down beside him, Paige opened his coat and moved her hands under his shirt. “Even just a little antidote should have been enough to squash one of those things. How does this feel?”

The only answer Cole could give was a wailing groan as Paige’s fingers touched a portion of his chest that felt as if it had rotted all the way down to his spinal column.

She sighed. “It’s not as bad as I thought. Hasn’t attached yet. When it stops hurting, you’re in trouble. That means it’s settling in.”

“When the fuck does that happen?”

“Hopefully never. Once it settles in, it’ll be too late to help you.”

“Do you believe that evolution shit?” Rico asked. “Did Lancroft really have old spores tucked away in that basement?”

Every other noise in the brick corridor faded away.

“I don’t know,” Paige whispered. Suddenly, her face showed something Cole had never seen before. There was genuine fear, uncertainty, and panic in her eyes as she pulled his shirt up to check his chest. “There aren’t any tendrils showing up yet. He’s still got his color. It should have taken root or died by now, Rico. What the hell is happening to him?”

Rico’s tone cut through the confusion that had rolled into the room like a fog. “That Nymar was too scared to lie,” he said sharply. “We already know we’re dealing with a new kind of spore our antidote doesn’t hurt. Come to think of it, all the Nymar we killed with that striped shit on ‘em was from destroying the heart with our weapons or bullets. The antidote on the rounds don’t do shit, so we might as well switch to hollow points.”

“That’s for later,” Paige said. “What about now? What about him?”

“The spore hasn’t taken hold yet so that’s all we care about. Did you find a way for us to get out of here or not?”

It took Paige a moment to think all the way back to what she’d been doing a few minutes ago. She nodded. “Yeah, I found a route that leads under a place that’s either a laundry
or clothes store on Erie. Maybe State Street.”

“Were cops there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then lead the way and make sure it’s clear. I’ll take Cole.”

“But what about—”

“Shut it, Bloodhound!” Rico barked. “Do what I told you to do. There ain’t nothin’ else for us right now. We gotta get out of here. That’s it. When that’s done, we’ll see about the rest.”

Although visibly upset, annoyed, and scared, Paige nodded. “You need help with him?”

“No. Just go.”

She stood up, locked her eyes on Cole for a long couple of seconds, glanced at the gritty remains of the dead Nymar, and then ran down the hall.

“Come on, soldier,” Rico grunted. “On your feet.”

“You … call me Champ … or Tough Guy,” Cole snarled as a lump the size of a golf ball moved freely within his chest cavity, “and I’ll shoot you.”

“Don’t blame you one bit, sport.”

Although the single chuckle that bubbled up from his throat hurt almost as much as getting punched by a set of brass knuckles, Cole was grateful for it.

It was hard enough for Cole to keep his feet moving. Breathing was a chore. Even shifting his weight while dangling from Rico’s shoulder like an accessory wrapped up in genuine Full Blood hide strained a body that was still in the process of being ravaged from the inside. When his surroundings became a blur of light, shadow, motion, and stillness, he just let it pass.

There was a long stretch of dusty passages followed by a delightful haul up a ladder that made him want to die.

He thought he saw a bunch of suits hanging on all sides and was assaulted by the smell of industrial detergent. Some curious voices asked a few questions, which Rico deflected long enough to drag him into air that was almost fresh enough to be pleasant.

“Where … what?” he grumbled.

“Don’t mind him,” Rico said to someone outside of Cole’s field of vision. “He’s drunk. Sorry about that. Must’ve stumbled in here by mistake. Yeah, I know. He thought this was his apartment. I know! He’s drunk, all right?”

Cole couldn’t hear the other half of that conversation, but whoever was questioning Rico was left behind once they were both on the sidewalk.

“How you doin’?”

“Either I’m going numb,” Cole replied, “or the spore’s moving my legs for me. Feels kind of nice.”

“Really?” Rico looped a thick arm around Cole’s midsection, crushed his ribs and shook him like a giant martini. “What about now?”

“Mother fucking piece of shit stain!”

“He’s drunk,” Rico explained to someone who was either confused or offended by that nonsensical outburst. Lowering
his voice, he added, “Keep trying to move. Remember, pain is good. Means your body’s fighting it.”

“This goddamn thing’s already
in
me! How do I fight that?”

“I don’t know. Contract your muscles. Clench. Squeeze. Just do something.”

“You guys are supposed to have this long history of fighting vampires, and the best you’ve got for me is Kegel exercises. You … guys really …”

“Are you clenching?”

“Yes,” Cole sighed grudgingly.

“Is it helping?”

“I … suppose.”

“Then keep it up. If bitching to me helps, keep that up too.”

“What are you going to … do?”

Hiking Cole’s arm onto his shoulder, Rico got a better grip so he could drag him even faster down the sidewalk. “First I’m going to get you to the corner. And if Paige doesn’t come back with the car soon enough, I’m dumping you into a cab.”

“No. I mean with me.” Gritting his teeth against a new wave of pain, Cole tried not to think about it coming from something that would latch onto his heart and grow to the size of an eel.

Too late.

“What are you gonna do with me?”

Rico hefted him up and over something that could have either been a curb or a sleeping wino and replied, “Honestly?”

“No. Lie to me.”

“If you’d turned, one of us would’ve put you down already and gotten on with the rest of the shit we need to do.”

“Thought I told you to lie.”

Peeling back his stubble-encrusted lips to reveal uneven, blocky teeth, Rico said, “In that case, you’ll be fine.”

Not far away, tires screeched, horns blared. and drivers swore at the top of their lungs. One of those cars separated from the metallic blur at the edge of Cole’s vision and skidded to a halt after mounting the curb in front of him.

“Taxi’s here,” Rico calmly said as he opened the car door before dumping Cole inside. It wasn’t until Cole flopped over sideways that he realized he was in the back of the car they’d driven from Shimmy’s. Before he could hoist himself up again, he was nearly thrown onto the floor as the Dodge lurched forward and thumped back down to street level.

“How is he?” Paige asked from behind the wheel.

“Same as before,” Rico told her. “That’s a good thing.”

“Good thing, my ass.”

“Your …” Cole groaned.

“What?” Paige looked in the rearview mirror but couldn’t see what she wanted to since Cole was still not upright. “What’s he saying?”

“That … your …
is
a good …”

“Probably something about your ass being the good thing,” Rico said, hitting the nail on the head thanks to the Y chromosome he and Cole shared. “You know this city better than I do. Where can we go for some privacy? We need to take care of him before he gets worse.”

“If he gets worse—”

“That’s why we need to take care of him. I know what you’re thinking, but let’s not jump the gun.”

The car swerved sharply, but Paige insisted on looking back at Cole instead of whatever it was she’d nearly hit. “Hope’s setting me up for something. Maybe setting us all up.”

“If she’s found a way around tripping the itch in our scars as well as a block for the antidote, I’d hate to think what the hell else she’s got going on.”

“Cole was right about some of those dead bodies in the Blood Parlor being human. Hope confirmed it.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yeah,” Paige replied solemnly. “I saw one of them myself. She also said they were cops.”

“Jesus,” Rico sighed.

“One problem at a time. Cole? What was that thing in the cell the Nymar broke into? Cole!” Paige shouted. “What was stolen from Lancroft’s house?”

“Something was ripped from an old Nymar’s chest,” he
replied. “And some shapeshifters set loose whatever was in that end cell.”

“You were reading Lancroft’s journals. Did he mention what was so special about that dead Nymar?”

Closing his eyes only brought Cole closer to what was happening inside, so he forced them open and stared out the window. “I can’t remember. Some of them are on my hard drive, though. The rest are in the trunk of the Cav.”

“The Cav’s at Pinups. You’re sure those journals are in the trunk?”

Blinking some of the murkiness from his eyes, Cole wished he had the strength to hit the button to lower the window. “Yeah. They’re one of the things I grabbed when Raza Hill was on fire. Threw ‘em in the trunk. E-mailed the recent ones to myself a while ago.”

“You said she was a twofer,” Rico pointed out.

“A what?”

“A twofer,” Paige said as she looked over her shoulder. “Two spore in one Nymar. Two ‘fer one. On the rare times when that actually works, it makes them stronger and hungrier. There’s no difference with the spore themselves. Any seeds they may produce should be the same as one from any other.”

“But the one that seeded Cole wasn’t just a twofer,” Rico said. “She was one of them stripes as well. The one we questioned brought up evolution. You think they’re really forcing some sort of change in the whole Nymar species?”

Paige shook her head and calmly avoided a collision by less than an inch. “I suppose they’re about due. Last one I ever read about was … damn, I don’t even know. Ninety years ago? More? How long do you think that Nymar was sitting in that cell in Lancroft’s basement before his chest was ripped open?”

Rico looked straight ahead but didn’t see the highway or the other cars Paige was narrowly avoiding. Either that or he was unaffected by such common threats to his life. “You think the old man had that Nymar trapped as a way to keep the species from changing?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“It sure isn’t. And Lancroft would wanna keep that carrier
alive to study it.” The way Rico snapped his fingers and sat up, all he was missing was the oversized lightbulb above his head. “He mighta used that sucker to develop the Mud Flu! I’ll be damned!”

“Since I’m already damned,” Cole grunted, “would you mind focusing on me until this thing stops burrowing inside of my goddamn chest?”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Paige said. “As soon as I get us somewhere safe, you’ll be the center of attention. How’s that sound?”

“Where are we going?”

She answered the question, but her voice was drowned out by a groan that emanated from Cole’s gut and filled his entire body. His jaw was clenched shut so tightly that he didn’t even know if any sound was able to leak out. The spore had found a new place to dig and was exploring freely between his lungs. Alternating between not being able to breathe and not wanting to nudge the burrower inside of him, he gripped the bench seat and stomped his foot so hard against the floorboard that he thought he might stop the car Flintstones style.

Rico turned around and lunged over the passenger seat to grab him, but Cole didn’t even feel the big man take hold. He was falling into the abyss that he’d been trying so hard to avoid. What he felt next didn’t hurt as bad as the last wave, but only because it sent him into unconsciousness.

“Hang on!” Rico shouted. “Just a little longer!”

Cole might have been able to cling to the waking world, but at that moment he just didn’t want to.

His senses returned as if they were attached to a dimmer switch, slowly filling him up before becoming harsh. The pressure he felt on his chest was warm and not too heavy. It shifted slightly, reminding him of a pleasant series of dreams he’d been having ever since he grew closer to Paige. The pain inside him had stopped moving. A sharp pinch jabbed inside his chest. Nothing new. It helped that there was still enough fog in his head for him to view the discomfort from a distance.

“He’s waking up.”

That was Rico’s voice.

Or maybe not.

It was definitely a male. Now that his vision was clearing, Cole could tell the weight on his chest was a figure and the figure was definitely not male. If not for the shorter hair, he might have thought it was Paige. The curves were the same. Just letting his eyes wander along the swell of her breasts and the tight musculature of her arms and shoulders made him think of so many things. Then he remembered Paige’s hair. She’d cut it.

“Oh,” Cole sighed. “It is you.”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “It’s me.”

“What are you doing?”

She reached for something over her head. Maybe she’d gotten him somewhere like a hospital or some sort of safe house that had the equipment needed to remove the spore. He hadn’t heard about any equipment like that, but that didn’t mean Skinners didn’t have it. They had a lot of cool things he didn’t know about.

Paige was straddling his chest.

She was looking down at him.

She wasn’t about to let anything happen to him.

It felt nice.

“Cole,” She said.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

The piece of equipment in her hand extended to a point while giving off a low creaking sound. When he focused on it, he realized it was the stake she’d taken from Lancroft’s place to replace the sickle she’d lost in her fight with him. The weapon only had a few coats of varnish worked into the grain, and the thorns were still freshly cut to bond with her. It would take a while for her to craft it into anything nearly as versatile as her old baton, but her will was strong enough to narrow the whittled-down point into something sharp enough to punch a hole through him as well as the floor beneath him. Judging by the way she poised her arm above him, that’s exactly what she intended to do.