Darkness Before Dawn (12 page)

I was eight. I thought he was supposed to give me a gift because we were friends. After school he did.

“I still have it, you know. The rock you gave me,” I tell him.

“That’s fair, since I still have the scar on my elbow that I got when I hit the ground.”

I smile. Michael always knows how to put things in perspective. He’s been in my life for so long, for all the big and small moments. I can’t imagine him not being there.

The sidewalk begins to get congested with people. I imagine that before the war, the streets were often like this, filled with people doing things at night. Now it happens only when the Night Train comes through. More police, guards, and Night Watchmen are out. People feel safe. Or maybe they just need this one night when they can pretend they’re not afraid of the dark.

It’s a party atmosphere, with people laughing, talking, shouting. Some are even singing. Giddiness is in the air.

We see the milling crowd gathering around the station. The Night Train is a big deal, not so much for the goods it delivers, but because of Ian Hightower. The single greatest vampire hunter to ever live. The only human to kill an Old Family vampire single-handedly, to drive a stake right through its evil heart. He’s the king celebrity now. And he’s in charge of protecting the Night Train and its cargo.

“All right, Dawn,” Michael says when we reach the mass of people, “work your magic.”

When we were younger, we would have to dodge between people’s legs and often got yelled at for cutting through to the front. That is no longer an issue.

Standing at the thinnest part of the crowd, I hold up my badge. “Agency, let me through. Agency, step aside.” People turn around and look pissed until they see Michael holding on to me. Using his hands like oars, he rows us through the sea of people. A few cops try to stop us, until I hold the shining piece of metal up to their faces. Then they wave us through.

We get to the police barricades. “Admit it, Michael. You became my boyfriend for the front-of-the-crowd pass that I can provide.”

He grins broadly. “That and your kisses.”

To prove his point, he plants one on me. He draws back, and we find ourselves pressed against the barricade. On the other side, several cameramen and news reporters from the local station stand by, earpieces in and mics held high. Even though it arrives several times a year, the Night Train is still newsworthy. Or at least, Ian is.

A few minutes later a black plume of smoke rises in the distance, and excitement thrums through everyone. The massive crowd surges against us, pushing us painfully into the barrier. I get scared for a moment, certain I’m going to be crushed. But Michael gets behind me, puts his hands on the metal bars, and pushes back. His arms surround me protectively. I feel his weight press into me, providing a shield. “You know, this is my favorite part of coming here,” he says. “It gives me an excuse to be really close to you.”

I laugh. “Like you need an excuse.”

“Think we’ll ever grow tired of doing this?” he asks.

“Can’t see that happening.”

The behemoth train rolls in, its whistle going off to the cheers of thousands of people watching. The entire thing is encased in thick, black metal, making it seem like the night itself is on the tracks, moving from city to city. Dents and scratches mar it, evidence of the failed attempts by vampires to get on board and feast on the humans and blood bags it carries.

The reporters next to us begin blabbering.

“The Night Train has just come in. We’ll see if we can catch a glimpse of Ian. Maybe he’ll grace us with his presence. Help lift everyone’s spirits.”

A few passengers step onto the platform and are greeted by family members with great big hugs and kisses. I see a kid folded into the arms of loving parents, and push out the memories of a burned carriage, and Clive’s sad face when he delivered the awful news that Mom and Dad weren’t coming home. Rachel was there to comfort me, but Clive took on the responsibility of crushing my heart.

Next, the conductor comes out and begins signing clipboards, initialing here and there, before telling the station agents where the cargo is to off-load.

A tall man hops off the first railway car and the camera lights explode with flashes. The crowd behind us yells and screams, reaching out, frantically trying to brush up against a celebrity. Ian squints from the onslaught, and waves at everyone. His short-sleeved shirt shows the patchwork of tattoos on his arms, each one spotty and jagged, like it was done in the very trenches of the war in which he fought so bravely. A leather belt crosses his torso, a dozen metal stakes threaded through it for easy access. His short black hair moves with the strong winds.

“I want to be him someday,” Michael says.

“You’ll be a greater vampire hunter than Ian,” I reassure him.

I can tell that my words please him. It’s not a false compliment. I have absolute faith in his hunting and defense capabilities. But I also know the danger it’ll put him in, and hope that when that time comes, he’ll move about the city incognito, so Valentine doesn’t center his attention on him. Ian, on the other hand, is far too recognizable now.

The great hunter strides over to the barricade and begins jotting his name on whatever scraps of paper people dig out of their pockets or purses. A few people manage to capture the moment on film, leaning across the metal barrier and putting an arm around his shoulders while their friends snap a picture. I can tell he doesn’t enjoy it, that he sees it more as a duty to keep morale up, a job just as worthy as protecting the train.

When Ian gets to Michael and me, it’s so deafening from people yelling to get his attention that I can’t even hear myself think. I’m always amazed by Ian’s appearance. His face is fighting to be young—he’s only in his thirties—but the scars that run along his jaw and neck age him. He’s tall and strong, and his massive hands swallow the tiny pen. I stare at those hands, thinking of them wrapped around a stake, plunging it into a vamp’s chest, just like I’ve always wanted to do. There’s something so powerful in him. Something so … intoxicating.

And then he’s gone. Moving on to the next person. The reporters try to get him to answer a few questions, but he skips them. I see him grab a baby, look into a camera, and hand the infant back to its mother before he disappears among the outstretched arms of rabid fans.

Then I catch a glimpse of one of those fans. Only he’s not rabid. He’s as still as death.

It’s Victor.

What the hell is he doing here? Victor’s gaze shifts, locks onto me. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. Because I know what I should do. I should shout,
Vampire!
Ian would go into hunter mode. Michael would join him. So why don’t I? Why don’t I alert everyone that there is a vampire in our midst?

Someone bumps into me and I lose sight of Victor. When I turn back, he’s gone, vanished into the crowd. I’m left wondering if I really saw him at all.

“I can’t believe what a rush it is to be here, even after all these years. Ian is so
cool
!” Michael says, his arms tightening around me. “Hey, you’re shaking.”

“I’m just a little cold.” He pulls me even closer to his side. His warmth penetrates me.

“Let’s get you home,” he says.

We cross the street and, with fewer people around, begin moving easily. I can’t help wondering if some of them are vampires.

“Here,” Michael says, shrugging out of his duster. “I can’t believe how much you’re shivering. You didn’t see that creep from school, did you?”

“No.”

But seeing Victor seems to have shut down my body temperature controls. I’m freezing. So I slip into his duster. It smells like him, and it’s carrying the heat from his body. I snuggle into it. The hem drags on the pavement. “It’s going to get dirty.”

“Who cares?” He slips his hand around mine. “The warmth can travel from you to me.”

I laugh. “Smooth move.”

“I love your laugh,” he says. “It’s always amazed me that you can still laugh after everything that’s happened.”

The streets are crowded again as everyone rushes home.

“I can almost forget that everything isn’t perfect when I’m with you.” I groan. “That was corny. Can’t believe I said it.”

“I like it. Hey, I’ve got an idea.” He grabs my hand and starts pulling me down an alley.

“Michael, what are you doing? Rachel said no lingering.”

“So just tell her we got slowed down by the crowd.”

We’re back on a street, heading in a direction opposite to the one we should be going.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Trust me.”

“I do. You know that.”

He retrieves a flashlight from one of the pockets of his cargo pants. The bright light illuminates our path better than the occasional street lamp. More out of habit than worry, I glance around, taking in our surroundings. I’m familiar with the area, but the street is deserted. No glow coming from any of the windows we pass.

We reach a large brick building with a chain fence around it. Dawson Elementary. Like all the schools, it was named to honor a war hero.

“Here, hold this,” Michael says, and hands me the flashlight. Focusing the beam on him, I watch as he removes a small object from a pocket, opens it, and takes out two metal instruments. He sticks them in the padlock.

“Are you picking a lock?” I ask, stunned. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Advanced vampire defense training isn’t only about fighting moves.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. We have to be able to get to the vamps.” He grins as the lock opens.

“Can you teach me to do that?” I ask.

He pushes open the gate. “Sure.”

He takes the flashlight from me, then folds his hand around mine and leads me into the schoolyard.

“Never thought we’d be breaking into a school,” I whisper, not certain why I suddenly feel like we need to be quiet.

“Not the school. The playground.”

We walk around to the back and my gaze falls on one of the swings.

“Remember—” he begins, but I don’t wait for him to finish.

I run to the swing and jump onto the bench, standing with my hands wrapped around the metal links. Once a traveling trapeze troupe arrived on the Night Train. They set up in the street and gave an amazing performance. It was shortly after Brady had died. Although I thought I was too old for swings, afterward Michael and I snuck off here one afternoon. We had the best time.

“Daring Dawn returns!” he announces, setting the flashlight so the spotlight is on me.

“And what about Amazing Michael?”

“I’m here, too,” he says.

He places his hands above mine and puts one foot on the wooden bench before shoving off with the other. We’re bigger than we were before, and the swing protests with a loud squeak and moan.

“Is this going to hold us?” I ask.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

We start moving in tandem, a rocking motion that takes us higher and higher. Our bodies brush over and over with our movements. It’s different now from when we were kids. There’s an electricity here, an awareness. Michael is so much taller than me, and I have to bend my head back to see his familiar features, to meet his gaze.

He’s always been there for me. I know he always will be.

“I don’t remember us going this high before,” I say as we swoosh forward, then back. It’s a little frightening.

“We weren’t as strong. Didn’t have as much weight.”

“We thought it would be so exciting to run away with that troupe,” I remind him. “I wonder why they never came back.”

“Maybe they found a place they liked and decided to stay.”

“Maybe.” I like his explanation better than the one that was traipsing through my head: that vampires got them.

Michael releases his hold on one of the chains and cups my face with his palm. Our weight is no longer balanced, and we swing wildly. I scream and Michael covers my mouth with his, swallowing the sound. Then the crazy careening shifts to my heart as we deepen the kiss. Our motion slows as we’re concentrating on each other rather than the swing. His other arm comes around me, pressing us close. When we’re barely moving, he draws back and touches his forehead to mine.

“That is certainly a trick we never performed before,” I say.

“I liked it.”

“Me too.” I touch his bristled jaw. “I needed this. The past few days, weeks … it seems so hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

For a moment I look past him, to remember this hallowed ground of memories even better. And that’s when I see the two black orbs in the bushes, reflecting the moonlight. My pulse kicks up. “Michael, we’re not alone.”

He leaps off the swing and is gripping his stake in a fighting stance before I even realize what he is going to do.

“Where?” he asks.

I jump to the ground and take my place beside him. “It was over there, near the side of the building, in the bushes. It looked like two black eyes. I don’t see them now.”

“Maybe it was a cat or something.”

“Maybe. But it was an awfully tall cat.”

Slowly he crouches, snatches up the flashlight, and sweeps it around the playground. Nothing.

Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream rips through the night. It seems to be coming from near the school, near where I saw the eyes. Then a heavy silence descends that’s almost as frightening as the scream.

“Stay here,” Michael orders.

I grab his arm. “No, Michael. We go together.” My mouth is dry, but my palms are damp.

“Yeah, okay, but stay behind me. Watch my six,” he says, meaning I should keep an eye out and make sure no one is sneaking up in back of us.

Cautiously, we move toward the school, around the side of the building. The entire way Michael is sweeping the flashlight over the area. We step around the hedges, and in front of us lies a prone figure. Michael’s light falls onto the still body.

In the distance, I hear the echo of pounding footsteps as someone speeds away.

“Don’t go after him,” I say, knowing that’s what Michael wants to do, but already the sound is absorbed by the night. He’d never find him.

Michael sends the beam around us, illuminating the area. Except for the fact that someone died here, it looks undisturbed. The light returns to rest on the victim, spotlighting him more clearly. His mouth is wide open. Fangs protruding. Half his throat is gone, like someone—something—tried to devour him.