Depraved (Tales of a Vampire Hunter #2) (3 page)

“It’s a blow-out,” he said,
keeping his voice calm despite his rocketing heartbeat.

He pulled over to the side of
the road and brought the car to a stop, flexing his fingers when he let go of
the wheel. He’d been gripping it so hard that he’d left half-moon shaped
depressions in his palms.

“I heard a bang right when it
happened,” Miranda said, looking around. Worry had tightened her mouth into a
flat line.

“That was the tire exploding.
We must have run over something.”

“No, the sound was sharper,
more like a gunshot.”

Oliver frowned, but shook his
head. “No one was anywhere near us when it happened. The tires were pretty old.
It could have just been too much driving that caused it.”

“I don’t know . . .” Miranda
said, chewing her bottom lip, her gaze still searching the lengthening shadows
creeping over the brown terrain as the sun sank in the sky and behind the
mountains.

“We’re fine. I made sure we
had a spare and a jack. I’ll get the tire changed,
and we’ll be on our way again soon. Stretch your legs
and chill, Baby.”

Oliver climbed from the car,
went around to the back and popped the trunk. The spare was in better shape
than the tire they’d blown. He’d had plenty of experience changing tires, so he
went to work confident they’d be back on the road in only a few minutes.

Miranda stayed in the car
until he leaned in, resting his forearms on the roof.

“I know you’re a little
thing, but it’ll be a lot easier jacking this puppy up without you sitting in
it.” He grinned and opened the door for her.

She slid out and walked
stiffly to the front of the car, crouching down and looking at the tire that
had mostly shredded and now hung from the rim in a thin strip of rubber.

Oliver slid the jack under
the frame of the car and cranked the tire iron, easily lifting the car enough
to clear the tire while Miranda stretched, but stayed close by.

He worked quickly, cussing
under his breath as the first of the four lug nuts stuck. Standing to get more
leverage, he pushed hard and the nut loosened. The next two came off with no
problem. He was working on the last one when Miranda bumped into him.

“Did you see that?” she
asked, her voice tight and low.

“What?” The fright in her
voice sent zings of nervous energy along Oliver’s spine, though he also pushed
a twinge of irritation back. She was as jumpy as a rabbit.

He stood and looked where she
pointed, toward a grove of cypress trees about fifty feet from the side of the
road.

“It was like a wolf or
something,” she said, opening the passenger door to the car as if she was going
to get back inside.

Oliver grabbed her hand.
“They don’t have wolves in Mexico. Probably a coyote. Nothing to worry about.”

More worrisome were the
purple shadows spreading in the sky. The sun was just a haze of peachy orange
behind the mountains.

He started to lower back into
a crouch to finish the job, but she stopped him with a tight squeeze to his
arm.

“I don’t think so. It was
moving fast, like really fast, and it was big. Way bigger than a coyote.”

There was worry in her eyes
and tension in her voice, but still it was all he could do to keep the
exasperation from his reply. “We don’t have time to worry about shadows. I’m
almost done here. The sooner you let me finish, the sooner we can go.”

“But—”

“No buts.” This time, his
tone was sharp.

He went back to work on the
tire, quickly removing the last lug nut, taking the shredded tire off the rim
and slipping the new one on.

“Oliver!” Miranda’s voice was
shrill.

“What the fu—” His words
broke off as he stood and saw a huge, black animal lope across the highway.

Whatever it was, it moved with
purpose, heading right for them, its muzzle crinkling back and revealing
enormous, pointed teeth.

Oliver opened the car door
and shoved Miranda inside, slamming the door behind her. His back against the
car, he reached down and grabbed the tire iron from the pavement as the
creature launched itself at him.

It snarled. Hot breath hit
Oliver’s hands as he swung the tire iron, hitting the wolf on its neck, sending
it crashing to the road with a dog-like, sharp mewl of pain.

It didn’t stay down long, but
Oliver was ready this time and slammed the iron into the creature’s head as
soon as its front paws left the pavement.

This time, the large black
wolf went down and stayed down.

“I guess they do have wolves
in Mexico,” Miranda said tartly, exiting the car and glaring at him.

Though she looked more than a
little pissed, Oliver grinned when he saw the broken neck from one of the glass
soda bottles she held in her hand like a weapon. That’s my girl, he thought as
he took the glass from her hands and pulled her into his arms.

“Are you all right?” she
asked, skimming her fingers over his back and arms as if she was checking for
broken bones.

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have
yelled at you, Baby.” He kissed her gently, smoothing her choppy locks back
from her damp forehead.

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled.
“You can make it up to me later.”

Oliver chuckled. “Fair
enough. You watch that thing while I finish up.”

He quickly screwed on all
four lug nuts, attaching the spare tire to the rim while keeping a wary eye on
the large wolf lying only a few feet away from where Miranda stood.

Blood stained its ear and,
though its body twitched, it didn’t get back up.

Oliver finished the job, held
open the door for Miranda and walked quickly around to the driver’s side of the
car. He tossed the tire iron into the backseat and turned the key to start the
engine.

Miranda rested her hand on
his thigh, tossing the jagged glass bottle neck onto the dash. “Next time shit
hits the fan, don’t shove me out of the way, okay?” she said, her voice full of
its old sass.

Oliver chuckled. “Guess I . .
. shit!”

“What?” Miranda jumped,
wildly looking around, grabbing for the broken bottle.

Oliver stomped on the gas,
sending the car bolting back onto the highway. They crossed the faded middle
line and almost ran head on into the only car that had come from the other
direction since they’d pulled over. Tires squealed,
and Oliver prayed they all held as their little car
careened back into their lane.

Miranda had turned around in
her seat and was looking out the back window. “Where’d he come from?” she
asked.

In the rearview mirror,
Oliver looked behind them and watched the man in the long black coat slowly
getting smaller as they drove away from him.

“Oliver?” Miranda said when
he didn’t answer. “Where’d the wolf go?”

“He
is
the wolf, or
was.” If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.

The wolf, wounded on the
pavement, had stood on its hind legs, its fur rippling, turning into leather,
its legs going from crooked and canine to straight and long. One thing that
hadn’t changed much was the teeth; though smaller, the man had sported flashing
white canine teeth just like the wolf had.

“A werewolf? But there’s no
such thing,” Miranda said, her brow furrowing.

He’d heard fairy tales about
werewolves, everyone had, but she was right. As bad as a werewolf might have
been, Oliver thought this might be even worse.

“You ever hear about vampires
turning into wolves?” He kept his eyes on the road and the gas pedal almost to
the floor.

She snorted. “Yeah, and bats,
but that’s just bullshit. Movies and books. Stories spread by vampires and
scared little human kids.”

“I always thought so too, but
now I’m not so sure.” He glanced at her, not wanting to tell her what he’d
seen, but knowing he had to.

If they were going to be
dealing with vampires who could track them and turn into wolves, they’d both
have to be prepared. But how in the hell did you prepare to do battle with
things like that? He frowned,
and Miranda
frowned back at him.

“Tell me what you saw, or
I’ll break my promise and look in your head for myself,” she demanded.

As they made their way
through the outskirts of town, he told her what he’d seen, leaving out the part
about how close the vampire wolf thing had come to her door before Oliver had snapped
out of it and gotten the hell out of there. Though she’d reminded him of how
capable and tough she was, he still felt an overwhelming urge to protect her.
He supposed that was normal when you loved someone, but hoped it didn’t bite
him in the ass someday.

“Do you think they can turn
into bats too?”

“I have no idea, but we
should get ready for the possibility and anything else we can think of, no
matter how far-fetched it might seem.”

“How’re we going to do that?”

“I was just about to tell you
my plans before all that went down. Let’s find a place to hole up and get to
work. We have a lot of ground to cover and still need to eat a proper meal and
try to get some sleep before morning.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“I want to start shifting our
patterns,
so we’re alert at night when
we’re most open to attack. But we still need to keep moving, so we’re going to
have to cut down on travel time so we can sleep more during the day and still
have time to move.”

“Stay awake at night? What
else?”

He took the broken bottle
from her and tossed it onto the dashboard where either of them could reach it.
“First, find us a place to stay.” He handed her the guidebook he’d wedged down
next to his seat.

She thumbed through the
guide, once more concentrating on the here and now as the sun winked out and
darkness pushed them into town.

They drove through tent settlements
of migrant workers on the outskirts of town, slowing to allow a group of
barefoot children to run across the road.

“The poverty we’ve seen here sort of puts it all in
perspective, doesn’t it?” Miranda said, watching the kids.

“Everyone’s got their troubles.” Theirs were just out of the
ordinary, but everyone was struggling for life in one way or another.

“I sure hope that wolf dude leaves these people alone.” Her
eyes clouded with worry.

“Didn’t you say most vampires hunt criminals or people no
one would miss if they disappeared?”

“It’s almost a vampire code, at least it was for the Vladula
clan.”

“They should be safe then. They might have a different life
than we’re used to seeing, but I saw the moms hovering. Big brothers and
sisters. Dads. There’s a lot of love here and a big town nearby with better
pickings.”

“You’re probably right. Hey! Pull over. Let’s get some gum
from that kid and buy some of those oranges.” She pointed to a roadside stand,
where a lady was packing up fruit while her son offered Chiclets, hollering at
every car that passed.

It was dark. They didn’t have time, but Oliver felt the same
urge to help in the only way he could. He pulled over and spent more pesos
buying whatever Miranda wanted.

“
Gracias
!” the little
boy said when they’d finished making their purchases.

“
Gracias
!” they
answered.

“We’re already picking up some Spanish.” Miranda grinned,
her eyes twinkling.

Despite his worry over the time they’d lost, Oliver’s heart
lightened. Her smile had that sort of power over him. When she was happy, he
was too.

They climbed back in the car and drove into Oaxaca City,
navigating straight streets lined with flat-faced Colonial buildings and
colorful storefronts, passing by a large town square all lit up by strings of
Christmas lights. Heading south of the city’s center, they found the small
youth hostel Miranda had read about in the guide. The place was clean and
cheap, as promised, offering private rooms for couples and locks on the doors.
At $10.00 a night, it was perfect.

They made small talk with the nice American lady behind the
front desk, got a recommendation for a place to eat nearby and, after scarfing
down a huge meal of tamales, beans and rice, holed up in their room for the
night.

Miranda had gone through their bag, throwing away things
they didn’t need, lightening the load and leaving the newly packed bag by the
door. They took a shower together, neither wanting to leave the other alone in
the shared bathroom facility or stand guard by themselves in the hallway. As
tempting as it was to stay under the hot water, naked and soaped up, Oliver was
acutely aware of their vulnerability in the public shower. Aside from insisting
on being the one to wash her all over, and letting her return the favor, they
made quick work of getting clean.

Unlike the first night, when exhaustion had made them
careless, this time they dressed again in clean clothes and then curled up on
the bed together wearing their shoes, ready to run at the first hint of
trouble. Miranda had broken the neck off the other orange soda bottle, and they
each had a weapon on the small tables that sat on the sides of the bed.