Burnt Offerings (ab-7) (34 page)

"Are you trying to make us feel better?" Reynolds asked.

"Just prepared," he said. "I'll test the first few steps. If it seems solid, I'll move back and let Blake take it." He wasn't teasing anymore. He was all business, and we were suddenly on a last-name basis.

"Watch the body on the stairs," he said. He moved onto the first step, stomping hard enough that I jumped.

The body on the stairs was black, charcoaled. The mouth gaped open in a soundless scream. You had to look close to see the fangs. Real vamp fangs just aren't that big. Tendons were stretched naked looking like they'd snap if you touched them. The body looked fragile, as if one touch and it would be dust. I remembered Larry and the skull that had turned to powder at his touch. This body looked tougher than that, but not by much. Could it be alive? Was there some spark inside it that with nightfall it would move, live? I didn't know. It should have been ash. It should still have been burning in the sunlight, no matter how much water they poured on it.

Wren's voice startled me. "You can take the lead now, Anita."

I looked down the steps and found Wren several steps below, almost halfway. The darkness down below spilled around his feet like a pool. He was far enough down that a really ambitious vamp might have grabbed a leg and pulled him down. I hadn't been concentrating. My fault.

"Come back up, Wren," I said.

He did, and he was oblivious to the possible danger. Damn. "The stairs are concrete, which makes it safer. You should be okay."

"Do I still have to stomp every step?"

"It'd be safer," he said.

"If I feel it going, I yell?"

"Yes," he said. He brushed past me.

I stared down into the Stygian depths. "I need a hand for the railing in this suit. A hand for the gun. I'm out of hands for a flashlight," I said.

"I can try and shine a light in front of you, but it won't be where you need it."

"Don't worry about it, unless I ask." It took me over a minute, maybe two, to fumble the Browning out of its pocket. The gun was definitely going in one hand. I had to use two hands to click off the safety in the bulky gloves. I slid my hand inside the trigger guard on the trigger. I'd never have carried a gun like this normally. But my gloved finger didn't want to fit inside the trigger guard. I was ready to go now. If I put safety first, I'd never get a shot off in time. I'd practiced with winter gloves on, but I'd never dreamed of having to shoot vamps in a Haz-Mat suit. Hell, I didn't know what a Haz-Mat suit was until today.

"What's the holdup?" Fulton's voice. I'd forgotten he was monitoring everything we said. Like being spied on.

"These damn gloves aren't exactly made for shooting."

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"It means, I'm ready to go down now," I said. I kept the Browning pointed up and a little forward. If I fell in the suit and accidently fired a shot, I was going to try very hard not to shoot anyone behind me. I wondered if Detective Tammy had her gun out. I wondered how good a shot she was. How was she in an emergency? I said a short prayer that we wouldn't be finding out, got a death grip on the banister, and stomped the first step. It didn't fall down. I stared ahead into the thick blackness at the middle of the stairs. The sunlight cut across the darkness like a knife.

"Here we go, boys and girls," I said. And down we went.

Water lapped at the last few steps. The basement had turned into a lake. Wren's flashlight passed over the dark water like a tiny searchlight. The water was a solid blackness, holding all its secrets close and quiet. A coffin floated about ten feet from the stairs, bobbing gently in the dark, dark water.

Even over the wheezing and whoosh of my own breathing, I could hear the water lapping. There was the sound of wood rubbing together like boats tied up at a dock. I pointed, and Wren's light followed my hand. Two coffins were bumping against one another near the far wall.

"Three coffins visible, but there should be four more. One for the guardian, one for the vamp on the stairs, and two more."

I took that last step into the water. Even through the suit I could feel the liquid like a distant coolness, a liquid weight lapping at my ankles. The feel of the water was enough to speed my breathing, send my heart pounding in my throat.

"You're going to hyperventilate," Wren said. "Slow your breathing."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to make it slower. A count of fifteen, then another breath.

"You okay?" he asked.

"What's going on?" Fulton asked.

"Nothing," Wren said.

"I'm okay," I said.

"What's happening?" Fulton said.

"We're missing four coffins. Two could have sunk, but we still have two missing. Just wondering where they are," I said.

"Be careful down there," he said.

"Like a virgin on her wedding night," I whispered.

Someone laughed. Always good to be amusing.

I tried stomping on the next step, knee-deep in water, and my feet went out from under me. I was suddenly sliding down the steps, only my grip on the banister keeping me from going under. I sat in water up to my chin, feeling stupid and scared. A combination I'm not fond of.

Wren came to stand over me, light sliding over the water while he helped me to my feet. I needed the help. I raised the Browning dripping wet into the light.

"Will your gun work now?" he asked.

"I could fire it underwater and it would still work," I said. It still amazes me how many people think a little water ruins a gun. You have to clean it really well afterwards but during the shooting, water is fine. The days of having to keep your powder dry are long past.

I eased down the remaining steps and slid slowly down into the cool water. My breathing grew ragged. Fuck it, I was scared. Flat-footed in the water, I could have gone for the flashlight in one of the pockets, or I could have slid the shotgun out of the bag across my back. But before I started changing guns, I'd let Detective Tammy get down here with her gun to cover me. I still didn't know how good she was, but it was better than nothing.

The water slid around my upper chest, not quite armpit depth, but almost. I slid very carefully out into the water, more swimming than walking, gun held two-handed and ready. Or as ready as you can be half-floating in a borrowed astronaut suit.

I didn't like the fact that we were missing two coffins with vamps inside them. They probably just sank, but my gut was tense, waiting for hands to slide over my ankles, and yank me under. My foot brushed something solid, and I couldn't breathe for a second. My foot scooted against it. Paint can maybe. I guess even vamps have crap in their basement just like the rest of us.

"I've got some debris over here," I said.

"You sound like a real fireman," Wren said.

"Coffin?" Detective Tammy asked from the stairs. She slid into the water last.

"No, just a can of some kind."

The coffin had almost floated to me. No effort. I put a hand out to touch it, keeping it floating gently in the small waves. "When Wren and Tucker get up to the coffin, I'm going to back off. Cover me while I pull out the shotgun."

"You got it," Tammy said. She had her flashlight and gun in two hands, one above the other, so the light moved with the barrel of her gun. She was sweeping the water for movement. Just seeing her do that made the tension in my shoulders ease a bit.

"Don't open the coffin until I'm ready," I said. I had a moment to realize that I wasn't worried about my breathing. The suffocating closeness had receded under the pure adrenaline rush of being chest-deep in water with vampires all around. I could be phobic later, after we survived.

Wren and Tucker took either end of the coffin. Even they were having trouble moving in the water in full suits. "I'm going for the shotgun now, Reynolds."

"You're covered," she said.

I backed off and swung the bag around. I had a moment to decide whether to try to put the Browning back in a pants pocket or in the bag where the shotgun was now. I chose the bag. I kept the bag in front though, where I could put a hand in if I needed the gun. I swung the shotgun around, settling the butt of it against my shoulder. I braced myself as much as I could in the water and said, "Open it."

Tucker steadied it, and Wren swung the lid back. He crossed my line of fire while he did it. "You've crossed my line of sight, Wren."

"What?"

"Move to your right," I said.

He did it without any more questions but that one delay could have been enough to get him hurt or dead. The vampire lay on her back, long hair spread around her pale face, one hand clasped on her chest like a sleeping child.

"Okay to move her?" Wren asked.

"Stay out of my line of fire and you can do anything you want," I said.

"Sorry," he said. Even over the mikes he sounded embarrassed.

I didn't have time to soothe his ego. I was too busy watching for vamps. I kept my attention mainly on the one in the open coffin, but I had no peripheral vision in the suit. My hearing was cut in half or more. I felt totally unprepared.

"Why aren't our crosses glowing?" Reynolds asked from just behind me.

"They don't glow around dead bodies," I said.

Wren and Tucker were having trouble getting the body into the bag. Wren finally threw the body across one shoulder and Tucker started squirming the legs into the bag. The vampire lay utterly limp across Wren's back. Her long hair trailed into the water, turning black as it absorbed the water. When they slid her the last bit into the bag, I got a glimpse of her death-pale face, strands of wet hair clinging to it, like a drowning victim.

Tucker zipped the bag and said, "There's water in the bag. I don't know how to avoid it."

Wren got the body as balanced as he could and started for the stairs. "This is going to take a long time with just two of us carrying," he said.

Fulton's voice came over the radios. "We've got two more suits, Ms. Blake. Is it safe to send more men down?"

"Speaking as one of the sacrificial lambs," I said, "yeah. Why should we have all the fun?"

Wren got to the stairs and started climbing up, one hand on the banister. He tried to do the little stomping routine like we did on the way down and nearly fell back into the water. "I'm just going up the stairs. If they collapse, try not to leave me buried until my air runs out."

"Do our best," I said.

"Thanks," he said, sarcasm traveling just fine over the mikes.

Tucker had isolated one of the other coffins. Reynolds slogged over to steady it while Tucker got the lid. She didn't have enough height to swing it back nicely like Wren had. She just shoved. The lid fell back smacking the other coffin with a loud, echoing thunk. The sound made the tips of my fingers tingle.

"Shit," Reynolds breathed.

"Everything okay?" Fulton asked.

"Yeah," I said, "just a little case of nerves."

"You okay down there, Tucker?" he asked.

"It was me," Reynolds said. "Sorry."

The second vamp was male with short brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles still clinging to his white skin. He was over six foot. He was going to be even harder to bag.

Tucker came up with the idea of dragging the coffin to the stairs and using the stairs to help leverage the body. Sounded good to me. The bottom of the stairs wasn't in sunlight, so the vamp shouldn't mind.

Reynolds and Tucker had dragged the coffin to the foot of the stairs by the time Wren came back down. He laid an unzipped bag over the length of the body. "If Reynolds and Tucker steady the coffin, I think I can just roll him into the bag."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Tucker said. She stepped lower in the water.

Reynolds looked to me, and I said, "Sure." She moved to the other side of the coffin, her gun not pointed at anything anymore, flashlight held beam-down into the water like a distant golden ball of light in the dark pool.

Wren leaned in over the body to roll it on its side. "You're in my line of sight again, Wren," I said.

"Sorry," he said, but his arms were half under the body, rolling it. He didn't move out of the way.

"Move, dammit," I said.

"I've almost got him in the bag."

The vampire's head spasmed. It happens sometimes even in their "sleep," but I didn't like it now. "Drop him and step back Wren, now." My cross and Reynolds's cross flared to life like two small white suns.

Wren did what I asked, but it was too late. The vampire turned on him, mouth wide, fangs straining. It bit into the suit with a loud hiss of released air. They were too close to trust the shotgun. "Reynolds, it's yours," I said.

Wren screamed.

Reynolds's gun made sparks in the near darkness. The vampire jerked back from Wren, a hole in its forehead. But it wasn't dead, not even close. Revenants don't die that easy. I fired into that pale face. The face exploded into blood and bits of meat; small heavy pieces rained down into the water with soft plops. It fell back against the raised coffin lid, head gone, hands still spasming in the white satin interior. Legs kicking. Wren fell to his butt on the stairs.

Tucker was saying, "Wren, Wren, answer me."

"I'm here," he said, voice hoarse. "I'm here."

I came two careful steps closer on the water-covered stairs and put another shell in the vampire's chest, blowing a hole in it and the coffin lid behind it. I pumped another shell in the shotgun and said, "Up the stairs, now!"

I knelt by Wren, hand under his arm, the other full of shotgun. Over the ringing in my ears from the guns I heard Tucker say, "Something brushed my leg."

"Out, now!" I tried to force them up the stairs with my voice. I dragged Wren to his feet and pushed him up the stairs. He didn't need much urging. When he reached sunlight, he turned back, waiting for the rest of us.

Reynolds was almost with us. Two wet, dripping arms came up on either side of Tucker.

I yelled, "Tucker!"

The arms closed and she was suddenly airborne, backwards, under the water. It closed over her like a black fist. There'd never been anything to shoot at.

Her voice was crystalline over the radio, breathing so ragged it hurt to hear it. "Wren! Help me!"

I slid down the steps, falling into the water, letting the blackness close over me. My cross flared through the water like a beacon. I saw movement but wasn't sure it was her.

I felt movement in the water seconds before arms grabbed me from behind. Teeth tore into the suit, hands ripping the helmet off like wet paper. It rolled me in the water, and I let it. I let its eager hands carry me around until I shoved the shotgun against its chin and fired. I watched its head vanish in a cloud of blood by the glow of my cross. I still had the breathing mask on, which was why I wasn't drowning.

Tucker's screams were continuous now. Her screaming was everywhere, in the radio, in the water, echoing and constant.

I stood up, the remnants of the suit sliding down my body. I lost some of the echoes of Tucker's screams. The water was conducting the screams like an amplifier.

Reynolds and Wren were both in the water. A bad idea. He was struggling towards something, and I saw it. Tucker's Haz-Mat suit was floating on the other side of the basement. He threw himself into the water trying to swim to her. Reynolds was trying to stay with him, gun in hand. Her cross was blindingly bright.

I yelled over the radio, "Everyone out! Out, dammit, out!" No one was listening.

Tucker's screams stopped abruptly. Everyone else screamed more. Everyone but me. I went quiet. Screaming wouldn't help. There were at least three vamps down here with us. Three revenants. We were going to die if we stayed down here.

The vampire exploded out of the water in front of me. The shotgun fired before I realized I'd done it. The vampire's chest exploded, and it grabbed for me anyway. I had time to jack another shell in, but not to fire. At moments like this the world goes too fast and too slow. You can't stop anything from happening, but you can see it all in excruciating detail. The vampire's fingers dug into my shoulders, painfully tight, holding me still while he reared back to strike. I had a glimpse of fangs framed by a dark beard. My cross's glow was almost frantically bright, highlighting the vampire's face like a Halloween flashlight. I fired the shotgun straight up under the chin, no time to brace, just to pull the trigger. The head exploded in a red rain all over my face mask. I was blinded by blood and thicker things. The recoil of the shotgun sat me down in the water. I went under without knowing if the thing was still coming or if it was dead.

I struggled to the surface. The water had streaked the face mask clean of blood, but heavier things clung to it, so I was still blind. I jerked the mask off my face. losing the radio but gaining my vision.

The vampire was floating in front of me, not face down, or face up. Faceless. Goody.

When Reynolds's gun fired, the shots sounded strange, and I realized I was deaf in the ear I'd fired the shotgun next to. The vampire's body reacted to the bullets, staggering, but not stopping. She was hitting it full middle body like they teach you on the range.

I yelled, "Head shot."

She raised the gun, and the gun clicked empty. I think she was going for extra ammo in a pocket when the thing jumped her and they both vanished into the water.

I slid out of what remained of the suit. Even with the taped joints it slipped off me like a shed skin. I exchanged hands to keep the shotgun ready and dived into the water. Swimming was faster, and if there was anything to catch, I'd caught it by now. The cross lit my way like a beacon. But it was Reynolds's cross that I swam for. That was my beacon.