Vamps (4 page)

Just as it occurred to Lilith that she might not be the only one inside the dealer's head, a girl she had never seen before stepped out from behind the other side of the outcropping. The stranger was dressed in a pair of gray skinny jeans, purple tweed boots, a long black shirt, and a cropped, faded black leather bomber jacket. Her dark hair was worn in a blunt, jagged bob that, along with her full lips and high cheekbones, made her look like a semi-feral pixie. With a start Lilith realized she was standing face-to-face with a New Blood.

“This one is mine!” the New Blood growled, pointing to the dealer, who stood pinned like a butterfly against the outcropping, drool dripping from his mouth.

“Get lost, skank,” Lilith hissed, unsheathing her fangs in ritual challenge. “He belongs to me!”

“
You
get lost, bitch,” the New Blood snarled in response, her eyes glowing. “I was here
first
!”

Lilith stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. “How
dare
you speak to
me
like that! Don't you
know
who I
am
?”

“Yeah,” the New Blood sneered. “You're the snooty uptown bitch whose
ass
I'm gonna
kick
!”

The two glared at each other as they circled like boxers getting ready to fight. Lilith took a swipe at her rival, eager to slice the New Blood's clothes and flesh to ribbons with her razor-sharp talons. However, the New Blood proved unexpectedly agile, sidestepping her charge with the grace of a matador. Lilith whirled around, surprised by the other girl's speed.

The New Blood laughed at the startled look on Lilith's face. “You oldies talk a good game, but when it comes down to it, you're nothing but a wuss!” The New Blood's laughter was abruptly replaced by a screech of pain as Lilith drove her nails into her opponent's right side.

“First blood is mine!” Lilith sneered as she yanked her hand free. “So who's the wuss now, newbie?”

The New Blood staggered, her right hand clamping her side, bright red blood oozing from between her fingers. Although her body was already rapidly healing, she would be vulnerable to attack for the next minute—more than enough time for Lilith to deliver the coup de grace. The New Blood's eyes rolled back in their sockets until only the whites were visible.

“What's the matter, newbie?” Lilith taunted. “You're not going to pass out on me, are you?”

If the New Blood had a response to Lilith's jeers, it was lost in the howling wind that suddenly churned every piece of trash in the plaza into a maelstrom of grit
and refuse, chasing most of the remaining dealers from the park.

As Lilith raised her arms to shield her face from the stinging lash of the maelstrom, she saw Tanith and Jules running toward her from their hiding place.

Eyes still rolled back in her head, the New Blood raised a hand, as if reaching for an invisible rope, and then closed it into a fist. There was a sound like someone running through dry autumn leaves, and a nimbus of pale blue fire blinked into existence around her clenched fist.

“Lilith!”
Tanith shouted over the roar of the wind.
“Get away from her! She's a stormgatherer!”

Lilith turned to stare at her adversary, who now held a ball of bluish-white lightning in the palm of her hand. Her previous bravado was quickly replaced by fear. Although vampires can resist every human disease and have regenerative powers that make every wound except decapitation or a stake through the heart a matter of inconvenience, electricity can kill them.

As she backed away from the New Blood, Lilith saw Jules running toward her.
“Jules! Help me!”
she yelled.

Lilith's shout broke the New Blood's concentration, causing her eyes to suddenly drop back into their sockets like the reels on a slot machine. Although the gale-force winds instantly died away, she still held a fistful of crackling lightning.

Freed from his trance, the dealer abruptly jerked
awake and fled into the darkness beyond the ring of lights surrounding the plaza. In the next moment the heavyset, bearded dealer seated on the bench jumped to his feet and pulled a compound crossbow out of his shopping bag.

“Van Helsings!”
Jules shouted in warning.

“Lilith! Look out!”
Tanith screamed.

As Lilith ran toward her friends, she looked over her shoulder just in time to see the vampire hunter fire his weapon at her. Instinctively she threw herself to one side at the last second, the arrow coming so close it grazed her rib as it flew by. Tanith wasn't as lucky. She hit the ground like a dropped doll, the bolt from the crossbow jutting from her breast.

Lilith fell to her knees beside her friend. “Get up, Tanith! You
have
to get up!”

As the vampire hunter raised his weapon for a second shot, the New Blood flicked her wrist, tossing the lightning ball at him, then turned and fled, disappearing into the shadows without looking back.

There was a horrific scream, followed by the smell of burning flesh and hair, as the fistful of lightning struck the vampire hunter square in the chest. He dropped his crossbow and fell to the ground in a twitching heap.

Jules stood over Lilith as she knelt beside Tanith's body, frantically scanning the area for signs of more Van Helsings. Although he had never gone up against them before, he knew the vampire hunters didn't travel
alone. Sure enough, he spotted three more, dressed like drug dealers, running toward them from the other side of the park, each armed with a crossbow.

“It's an ambush!” Jules shouted as he yanked Lilith to her feet. “Forget about Tanith—she's dead! We've got to get out of—!” Before he could finish his sentence, the closest of the advancing Van Helsings fired on him. The young vampire roared in pain and leaped at his attackers, fangs and claws bared.

The Van Helsing instinctively fell back, screaming as a monster with the wings of a bat and the face of a man swooped toward him, an arrow in its thigh.

Jules grabbed the vampire hunter's crossbow with his clawlike feet, yanking it and its owner into the air.

“Shoot it!”
the Van Helsing yelled as he struggled to free himself from Jules's clutches. “Don't worry about hitting me! Just shoot!”

Jules banked sharply and let go of his unwilling passenger, sending the Van Helsing flying into a park bench. As the other vampire hunters hurried to their comrade's aid, Jules soared into the night, leaving Lilith to escape the best she could.

 

“Damn it, the stormgatherer got away,” Drummer growled as he got to his feet.

“Are you okay?”

“I'll live.” His right arm felt like it had been wrenched from its socket, and he was pretty sure he had at least
one cracked rib, but all things considered, he was in fairly decent shape. He waved the others away with a pained grimace. “Don't worry about me—go see to Big Ike.”

Rémy, the older of the two, hurried over to the big man's body and checked his pulse. “He's badly burned—especially his hands—but he's still alive. Lucky for him he was wearing rubber-soled shoes.”

“Get on the horn to removal,” Drummer grunted. “Tell them we have a man down.”

“What about her?” Kevin pointed at the body of the vampiress sprawled across the pavement.

“You know the drill,” Drummer replied. “Suckers like to play possum. We have to make sure she's dead.”

“Gotcha,” Kevin replied as he pulled his Ghurka knife from its sheath and cautiously nudged the body with his boot. “You know, I've never seen a sucker summon up a tornado before—or turn into a bat, or whatever that thing was.”

“That's because up to now, you've only taken down undead,” Drummer explained. “Undead can't shapeshift or control the weather. What we went up against tonight were true-borns. Old Bloods, most likely.” He frowned as he stared down at the dead girl. The vampiress looked disconcertingly young and pretty—no more than sixteen or seventeen. He scratched his head in confusion. “That's funny; I could have
sworn
the blonde was wearing blue….”

“You mean like this?” Rémy asked, holding up the shredded remains of a peacock-blue silk dress.

“Where did you find that?” Drummer asked suspiciously.

“It was lying over there, right next to the fountain.” Before Rémy could turn to point out where he had found the ruined garment, he heard a deep, guttural growl that stopped him in his tracks.

Suddenly a huge wolf with piercing blue eyes and no tail leaped out of the fountain basin in an explosive spray of cold water, knocking Rémy to the ground.

“Shoot her!” Drummer yelled, firing his crossbow at the fleeing creature. “She's getting away!” His arrow fell short, bouncing harmlessly against the pavement as the monster wolf disappeared into the streets.

“Damn it!” Drummer snapped, hurling the crossbow to the ground despite the excruciating pain in his shoulder. “The boss is going to lose it when he hears about this!”

C
ally Monture shook her head in disgust as she hurried down the stairs to the subway. What was she thinking? She should have let the bimbo in the awful blue dress take the prey. But no, she let her pride get in the way, and now she was running for her life. Granny had warned her about letting her temper get the better of her in tight situations and, as always, had been proven right. Cally was relieved the old woman was no longer around to see how badly she had screwed up—but only a little, for she sorely missed her grandmother.

Although she had been stalking the park off and on for several months, this was the first time she had run into real problems. She probably would have rethought her plans for the night if she'd known she would be
crossing paths not only with Old Bloods, but Van Helsings as well.

Given the Van Helsings' reputation for zealotry and the Old Bloods' tendency for vindictiveness, both were extremely dangerous foes. Cally was glad her grandmother had finally relented and taught her a couple of spells before she died. At least she could defend herself, to a certain extent. Still, she'd been extremely lucky that the Old Bloods were fledglings like herself. Had they been adults, she probably would have been killed, stormgatherer or not.

As she strode toward the stairs leading to the platforms, she looked around for signs of pursuit. Since Van Helsings and vampires never liked to call attention to themselves in public places, she was probably safe as long as she made sure there were plenty of witnesses nearby.

As she leaned out from the platform in hopes of spotting the next outbound, she noticed a hot guy in fashionably distressed skinny jeans and a denim jacket waiting for the train. He was buff, judging by the fit of his vintage T-shirt. He was pretending to read a paperback, but Cally could tell he was secretly checking her out.

He was clean-shaven with a large, expressive mouth, dark brown eyes, and wavy, reddish-brown hair. Although he looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, he exuded
the kind of serious, mature vibe Cally usually associated with dudes in their twenties. Maybe he was just emo.

When he glanced up from his reading yet again, Cally met his gaze. As their eyes locked, she felt a slight tingling inside her, not unlike the one she got as she called down lightning. For the briefest of heartbeats, it was as if the air between them crackled with energy. She flashed the handsome stranger a smile, only to have him blush and bury his nose in his paperback. Yeah, definitely emo.

At any other time she would have flirted with him—at least a little—but when the tunnel lights switched from red to green, Cally quickly forgot about her admirer. As her train pulled in, she slipped inside and stood near the door. There were a handful of commuters in the car with her, mostly partyers headed home after a long night at the clubs.

When she got off the train a couple of stops later, she thought she saw the guy in skinny jeans getting out onto the platform one car down from her. She turned around to make sure, but no one was there. She put him out of her mind and hurried down the passageway to her next train.

Now that she had enough space between herself and her potential enemies, Cally took the time to quickly count her earnings for the night. She was disappointed to find she had barely two hundred dollars. Normally she could score at least twice that off
the dealers in the park. She frowned in dismay as she tucked the bills back inside her bra.

She needed cash for the next emergency. And she didn't need a fortune-teller to know there'd be one.

Although her father sent money on a regular basis, her mother had a way of blowing it all on things she “had” to have, like a giant flat-screen TV or a two-day spa treatment. So paying the electric bill or the mortgage on the condo often fell to Cally. Cally wondered for a moment what might become of her mother if she had been the one to catch the crossbow bolt earlier, but the thought was so distressing she instantly blocked it from her mind.

There's no point in worrying about things that haven't happened
, she told herself.
Focus on getting back home; that's all that matters. Just one more train, and I'm home free.

There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against concrete behind her. Cally turned to see the figure of a man headed down the stairs from the concourse above. Panic rose in her like floodwater as she looked around the platform and realized that she was totally alone.

She ducked behind one of the narrow steel support columns that lined the platform, pressing herself against its cold metal surface as the footsteps drew closer. She frantically searched the platform for better cover, but there was nowhere else she could possibly hide.

If only she were more experienced in this kind
of thing. She still hadn't recovered enough since the park to gather up more than a stiff breeze. That meant she would have to rely on what weapons were closest at hand. Cally reached out with her mind and made contact with something brown, furry, and very nearby.

As the man reached the bottom of the stairs, a rat the size of a kitten darted out of nowhere, its beady eyes gleaming like tiny polished stones. The animal reared up on its hind legs and made an angry, squealing noise.

“What the hell—?!?”
the stranger cried as the rat suddenly raced up his leg.
“Ah! Get off me! Help!”
He swatted at the angry rodent as it tore at him with its gleaming yellow teeth, but it refused to be frightened away and was at his throat within seconds. As he tried to shield his eyes from its slashing fangs and filthy claws, he lost his balance and toppled off the edge of the platform. On striking the ground below, the rat jumped off and scurried back into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving its victim lying dazed on the tracks, moaning as blood oozed from the numerous wounds to his face and hands.

Cally peered over the platform and, with a start, recognized the young man as the one she had seen earlier, the one with whom she had experienced an unexpected connection. The fear that she had for her own life suddenly turned into alarm. She had sicced the
rat on the stranger, hoping she could run away while he was distracted. It hadn't occurred to her that he would end up seriously injured as a result of the attack.

“What have I done?” She groaned.

A distant rumbling, a burst of air, and a swirl of trash from the tunnel signaled an oncoming train. Realizing there was no time to lose, Cally leaped off the platform onto the wounded stranger below.

“Hold still! Don't move!” she shouted, pulling him more evenly between the rails.

“What are you doing?”
he cried, his brown eyes wide with fear as Cally pressed her face as close to his as a lover's.

“Saving your life!” Cally could smell the blood leaking from his wounds and fought to ignore the hunger it aroused in her. This was no time to get distracted. “If you don't keep still, we're both gonna lose a leg in a second!”

The ground beneath them began to tremble as they lay there wrapped in each other's arms. The man-made thunder filled their ears and rattled their bones. Cally pressed her head against the young man's chest as he lay motionless beneath her, staring up at the speeding undercarriage of the subway cars passing inches above his face. After what seemed like an eternity, the train finally came to a stop above them.

“What do we do now?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Wait until it leaves,” Cally whispered back. “No one knows we're down here. Even if someone's on the platform, I doubt they could hear us if we yelled for help.”

The young man didn't say anything but instead tightened his grip on Cally, pulling her as close to him as possible. As she listened to his heart pounding in his chest, she breathed in the scent of his skin. She found it strangely comforting, even soothing.

After a long minute the doors chimed closed and the subway train's wheels began to turn. Cally held perfectly still as the cars click-clacked by over her head, fearful that the slightest movement might end in disaster. She marveled at how warm the young man's flesh felt against her own. She closed her eyes and took another, deeper breath, savoring his smell so she could remember it later.

After the last car passed by, she finally lifted her head and looked around.

“It's okay,” she said reassuringly. “You can let go of me now.”

“And I was having such a wonderful time,” he said with a weak laugh.

“We've got to get you out of here before another train shows up,” Cally said as she stood up.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Hello? Anybody there?”
she called out.
“Man on the tracks!”

Cally listened for a response, but all she heard was her own echo.

“Can you stand?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I think so.”

As Cally helped him to his feet, the young man grimaced and fell into her. She staggered slightly as his body became deadweight and then effortlessly scooped him into her arms. She easily jumped back onto the train platform, carrying him over one shoulder. Moving with the grace of a cat, she propped his body upright on a nearby bench and gently stroked his left cheek, wiping away a smear of blood.

“Hey! What are you doing there?”

A transit worker was hurrying toward them with an alarmed look. Suddenly realizing she was covered in grease and filth from the tracks, Cally figured he had mistaken her for a runaway trying to roll a commuter.

“My friend needs an ambulance,” she said quickly. “I think he's hurt. He fell off the platform onto the tracks.”

“Holy Christ! How'd he manage to get back up?”

“I went and got him.”

The transit worker gave her a dubious glance. “A young lady like you dragged this guy back up onto the platform all by yourself? Gedoutta here!”

“I guess it must have been adrenaline or something,” Cally said with a shrug. “You know, like that woman
who picked up the car to save her kid.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember reading about that.” Apparently satisfied by Cally's explanation, the transit worker pulled a walkie-talkie out of his jacket pocket. “Central, this is Colina; I've got a situation here. Over.” He hit the receive button, but all that came out of the earpiece was a howl of static. “The reception down here is crap. We're fifty feet under the street. I'll have to go to the upper concourse to make the call. Are you sure you'll be all right?”

“I'm perfectly fine. I'll keep an eye on him until you get back.”

“Okay—wait right here!”

As the transit worker ran back up the stairs, the young man gave a low moan of pain. Cally placed a hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him as he attempted to sit upright.

“Take it easy. You must have busted something when you fell.”

He took a deep breath and grimaced. “You're right,” he groaned. “I think I might have cracked a rib or two.” He lifted his head. “I owe you my life,” he whispered, his brown eyes drinking in her lips, her face, her hair. “You didn't have to do what you did.”

“My grandmother once told me the worst thing anyone can do is nothing.”

“Your grandmother sounds like a very wise woman.”

“She was,” Cally agreed. “Besides, I'm sure you would have done the same for me if our roles were reversed.”

Something flickered in the young man's eyes and he quickly looked away. “Perhaps you're right.”

Cally turned toward the Brooklyn-bound side of the platform. “I think I hear my train coming.”

“You're not going to leave me, are you?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

“Don't worry, there's an ambulance on the way. You'll be all right.”

“Please—don't go. Stay with me.”

“Look, I'm gonna get in a
lot
of trouble if I don't leave!” she said earnestly.

“But you haven't told me your name! I should at
least
know the name of the girl who saved my life, shouldn't I?”

“It's Cally.”

“I like that.” He smiled. “My name's Peter.”

Cally returned his smile as she squeezed his hand. “I like that, too. Take care of yourself.”

“I'll try.”

Peter Van Helsing watched as Cally hopped inside the J train and waved good-bye from her window seat. As he raised a bloodied hand to return her farewell, he wondered how he would explain things to his father. Tonight had been his first solo mission; he had been assigned to watch the subway station nearest the park
in case the target escaped Big Ike's crew.

He reached inside his denim jacket and withdrew the wooden stake hidden inside, tossing it in the trash can next to the bench, just as he had been trained to do. The EMTs would be there soon, and it wouldn't do to have outsiders sticking their noses into the family business.