Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (12 page)

“People?”

“That’s my guess so far.”

Well, bright side: at least they weren’t demons throwing fireballs. I looked over at Heaven; she crouched in a sort of upright fetal position, muttering inaudible words.

“What, is she praying or something?” I asked.

“Another type of barrier spell,” Nate replied. “More advanced than the one I used earlier—it doesn’t require a secondary object, like a wall or a door, to keep them at bay.”

“There’s a team of guys from the back on their way over here,” I said. “Will it hold them off?”

“Yes.” He sent a worried glance at Dying Dude and then at Heaven. “So long as she maintains her concentration, which, considering what she’s gone through, isn’t likely to be for long.”

Oh, hell. I should just leave the lot of them there to be slaughtered and go home.
But then you won’t figure out why these guys are trying to kidnap you
. Le sigh: fighting with the others would have to do.

“Okay, we’ve got to get to the cars.” I looked to the guards. “Is the garage near here?”

A kid who couldn’t have been older than eighteen pointed to the right. Did she get her damn guards straight out of high school or something? “Through there,” he said. “Mrs. Thiering has a safe house a few towns over. We can all go to—”

“No, you guys are going it alone,” I replied. “Two cars are harder to follow, and I’ll act as an old fashioned diversion.”

“You mean we,” Nate said.

“If I had meant ‘we,’ I would have said that,” I snapped. “You’re going with them.”

“You’re hurt—”

Oh, save me from a pretty boy with a bleeding heart. “I’m a goddamn vampire! A couple more bullets aren’t going to hurt me.”

His lips pursed and jaw worked like he ground his teeth. “There are fifteen men with guns out there. A couple bullets may not do much, but a few hundred will do more than just slow you down.”

Yeah, yeah...
That little kid guard had a Calico M960, which I grabbed. “I’m going alone. Deal with it.”

Heaven looked up at us, tears in her eyes.

Ah, shit. “What the hell—keep chanting!”

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t...Mish...”

With the barrier spell broken, I heard the feet of the gunmen thumping on the floor. Damn humans and their damn incapacitating grief.

“Hey,” Little Kid Guard said, “take the limo—a bigger target. I’ll make sure it’s unlocked and the keys are in the ignition.”

I nodded and gestured for them to run. Two of them carted off the guy who’d been shot, with Nate supervising. As they raced into the right corridor, I jumped up and fired at the masked squad as they started toward the foyer. They ducked back, and once Heaven, Nate, and the others were out of sight, I followed. No extra magazine, so it wasn’t like I had the option to offer much more cover anyway.

When I reached the end of the hallway, I fired a few more rounds to force back the gunmen, then I slipped into the garage.

Near the front was a small, four-door car with everyone crammed in it. In front was the limo. Sure enough, the door was unlocked, and I hopped in and started the engine.

I checked the seat, the key ring, the dashboard. No garage opener. Well then, time to make my stylish exit. I smashed through the thin garage door, then swerved the car around the driveway and stopped. People were scattered across the lawn; my gaze checked the rearview mirror to see the car of the others in the garage behind me. Waiting.

And I’d oblige with a good old fashioned distraction.

I whipped up the Calico and fired, breaking the passenger window and spraying bullets at the gunmen on the lawn.

The car with the others sped past mine while I continued to shoot. I’d hoped to have enough ammo to cover Heaven’s car for a good distance, but the last shell ejected—magazine was empty. Fuck. I dropped the gun and flexed both hands on the steering wheel.

The sound of gunfire filled the car again, a short popping noise. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Nate in the back with a Glock he probably swiped from one of the guards.

“What the hell—I told you to go!”

He didn’t look back at me, just took careful aim and fired at a target out on the lawn. “Deal with it.”

Oh, once we got out of there, he was
so
dead.

Down the driveway, Heaven’s car disappeared out the front gate. Nate fired the final bullets from his gun, then ducked as the enemy returned fire. The limo lurched to the side, rocking as they shot out one of our front tires, but Nate and I remained unharmed. The limo would be a bitch to steer, sure, but at least we weren’t dead.

“They’re all still looking very much alive,” he said. “What now?”

“
Now
you wish you were in the other car.” I swung the limo around. “Stay down.”

I drove straight for the crowd of gunmen. Some fired at first, and one bullet tore straight through my arm, but as soon as they saw my intention, they dove for cover. I slammed on the brakes when I reached them and twisted the wheel to the left as far as it would go. The limo squealed and spun in a circle, knocking back those that had tried to stand again, and running over a few. From there, I stomped on the accelerator and sped for the gate.

We reached the road in moments. A black SUV—of-fucking-course, because the bad guys were incapable of picking something less evil looking—raced down the street ahead of us, chasing down Heaven’s car.

“A seatbelt would be a good idea,” I warned Nate. He scrambled through the limo and crawled over the back of the seat so he was sitting in the front. “You were probably safer back there,” I told him as I pushed the car up to double the speed limit.

He reached over and grabbed my seatbelt, then fastened it over my waist.

“Aren’t you considerate,” I mumbled.

“I’d rather you didn’t go through the windshield.” He sat back down and did up his own belt. “You are the one driving.”

“Good point. Hold on.”

I stomped hard on the accelerator; within thirty seconds we were right behind the SUV. It wove back and forth across the road, blocking us from passing, but I kept going straight. My hands squeezed the wheel at two and ten o’clock as we jostled around, the flat tire making the vehicle a motherfucker to manoeuvre. Closer, closer, and I
slammed
into the back of the other vehicle, tossing Nate and I forward. My foot eased for a moment on the gas, then I sped up again, this time coming in at an angle. I knocked the SUV to the gravel shoulder for a moment, but it swung back onto the road.

Someone smashed open the back window of our assailant’s vehicle and started firing at us. Nate muttered something and I looked over to see blood dripping from his shoulder.

“You okay?” I asked.

“It just grazed the skin.”

Just a flesh wound—right.
“You’d better duck down, lover boy. This one’s for the win.” I pushed down hard on the pedal and we flew down the road. Turning the limo far to the left, I waited until the SUV started to weave away from us, and then I swerved to the right. The collision rocked the limo and the force knocked the SUV off the road and straight into the ditch.

“That’s enough car chases for one night,” Nate said with a sigh as I slowed the limo to a bumpy crawl.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

“Bullet went through?”

“It’s probably embedded in the seat back there. Just a scratch.”

I glanced over at him. Blood ran crimson from the wound, soaking his black shirt. He’d stashed the coat somewhere at some point and now he rolled up his dress shirt sleeves and peeled back the collar to check his shoulder. No signs of the bleeding stopping, either.

And goddamn it, his hair was
still
mostly perfect. I’d have to find out what conditioner he used.

“You’ll live,” I said, “but you might pass out.” I let my fangs elongate just enough to bite down on the inside of my mouth, then spat some blood onto my hand and pressed it to his wound.

“That won’t—” he began.

“Turn you? Of course not. You have to be emptied of most of your blood for that to happen, and you would need a lot more than a mouthful of mine. One of the pros of vampirism is a blood protein that accelerates the clotting process, among other things. That’ll stop the bleeding, as well as kill any infection that might have gotten in the wound.”

“That’s practical,” he said, though I caught him eyeing the injury warily. “One of the guards told me where the safe house is—”

“Good—I’ll have a talk with Heaven tomorrow then.”

“You don’t think we should go now—”

“I told you to go with them,” I reminded him. “I’m heading home for the night. Is there somewhere you want me to drop you?”

He was silent for a moment as he stared out the front window.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he finally said. “I want to know about Mishka.”

So
do
I
.

Chapter Twelve

Home at Last

I dumped the limo pretty quick and Nate called a private cab company he knew. It dropped us about a mile from my apartment, and Nate and I walked the rest of the way. We easily could have taken the cab the rest of the way, but I didn’t want anyone else to know where I lived. The subway was nearby, though I nixed that idea since we were both on the shot and bloody side, someone probably would have phoned the police.

“Welcome to the Lain residence,” I said as we stepped into the apartment and I flipped the lights on. “I’d give you the grand tour, but, as you can see, it’s basically one really, really big room. The only separate spaces are the bathroom, which is to your left—and I’m showering first, by the way—and my room, around the corner to the right.”

A few steps in, I grabbed the wall to steady myself as I yanked off my shoes. I inspected my extremely expensive—and extremely ruined—satin, high-heeled sandals. Some of the straps were frayed, and they were bloody and caked in mud, but the heel itself had held up surprisingly well. I’d definitely have to check out that company again sometime.

I tossed the shoes into the garbage in the kitchen, then proceeded toward the full-length mirror just outside the bathroom. I unzipped the side of my dress, peeled the top down and folded it over my waist so I could check out my wounds. The hole in my stomach was showing the beginning signs of closing over—with the bullet still inside. That was just fucking super.

Nate shifted behind me and the presence of another person sent a sudden shiver down my back. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been through worse. There was this one time, back in the seventeen-nineties, with an angry mob of New England Puritans, and...” I paused as I realized he probably wasn’t interested in any of my wacky, vampire adventures.

He raised a dark brown winged brow. “And?”

I sighed. “It’s not important.” Humans usually got all pale and vomity over my vampire glory stories anyway.

Silence. I stared in the mirror a few minutes longer, wishing I could just...just
will
the stupid bullet out. But it doesn’t work like that.

“So...you have a reflection.” Nate gestured at my reflection.

“So do you.”

“The myths—”

“Yeah, well, the myths are stupid. A lot of them actually come from vampires—stories they made up to see how much they could screw with the mortals. Like the garlic one. I don’t know whose idea that was, but he should be given a goddamn award.”

“Traditionally garlic was used in spells to guard against evil,” Nate said.

“Huh. Then I guess I’m not evil.” I grinned, amused by the thought.

“And crucifixes?”

“For that to harm us, there’d have to be some divine power over my existence, don’t you think?” I said. “The only thing that scares me about it is how many people see an ancient torture device as something to be worshipped.” I glared at the bullet wound in my gut; nope, it wasn’t moving. I turned to check my shoulder and back where two more bullets were lodged. Lovely.

Another person might have felt self-conscious standing there topless but for a black strapless bra in front of a complete stranger, but I’ve always found modesty overrated. Plus nearly getting killed a few times in one night helps to put silly things like partial nudity in perspective.

And also, I was
rocking
the lacy bra.

Nate didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the lack of covering on my upper torso, but then I figured he was just enjoying the view.

I snatched my first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. It was time for another episode of
Amateur
Doctor
Zara
. I couldn’t wait for that show to be cancelled.

Nate pushed his sleeves up further. “Here,” he motioned for me to hand him the box of equipment, “let me.”

I held the box up to my ample chest. “I can take care of it.”

“You can’t do your back,” he pointed out. He held my gaze but I wasn’t giving up my first aid kit. A sigh, heavy and weary, and he ran his hands back through his still-pretty-perfect hair. His voice dropped lower, quieter. Pained and edged with darkness. “And I need...something—anything—right now to do.”

So he didn’t have to think about Mishka’s death. At least if he was patching me up, he wouldn’t get awkwardly grievy on me.

I handed him the case and hopped onto the kitchen table, lying directly under a hanging lamp. Water ran for a few minutes as he washed his hands, and then he went through the kit, selected a few tools, and set to work.

“Your heart beats and yet you don’t require oxygen.”

And now we enter the small talk portion of the surgery
. Pity I had to be awake for this. “Don’t require it, unless I want to talk—still gotta move air over the vocal chords. They don’t teach you much in warlock school, do they?” The cold steel instrument dug into my stomach in search of the bullet and I winced.

“I forewent usual schooling for more...‘independent’ studies,” he said carefully. “The vampire lessons consisted of, ‘Call a Demon Hunter to deal with it, or—if you’re brave and stupid—attempt to impale it in the heart with something to slow it down, then cut off its head.’”