“Yeah, well.” Pete glanced over his shoulder, nearly running into another stack of wooden crates, their sides plastered with ancient, faded fruit labels. “You’re all banged up. What happened?”
You would not believe me if I tried to tell. Or maybe he would. Layla opened her mouth, closed it again. Where the fuck could she even begin? “I… it’s a long story. I’m just glad someone else made it.”
“Me too. I’m glad it’s you.” Pete’s mouth pulled down on both sides, a quasi-grimace making him look at least ten years older. “Fucking Ben’s probably the reason it found us.”
“I can’t even guess.” Still, the idea opened up a horrible can of doubting worms. Why on earth had the vampire grabbed her? Just because she was the only girl? Maybe he’d been feeling lonely, wanting a little of what Ben would callR&R. “I want to get changed. Are my clothes still here?”
Where else would they be, Layla? You think Pete was going to take your panties?A stupid question, but at least it got the conversation off her own whereabouts during the last twenty hours or so.
“Yeah, ’course, but hurry up. I want to get us on the road.” He stepped into what had been the supply room, playing the light over an unholy mess. He’d packed in a hurry, looked like.
“You want me to go with you?” Layla sounded surprised even to herself. Her flashlight blinked; the batteries were indeed dying, so she clicked it off to conserve what little juice was left.
“Shit, girl, there ain’t nobody else left.” Pete gave a grim chuckle; her own threadbare, hitching laugh rose alongside. “Just wish I could figure out how the fucking thingfoundus.”
“Smell? I mean, nobody does any laundry.” All in all, Layla found she was feeling a bit better. “Just give me five seconds to get into some jeans.”
‘Here we are.” Pete halted, since the flashlight had found her cubby door. He swung around, and the beam glared directly into her eyes. “Shit, sorry. You’re gonna have a pair of real shiners soon, I put the first aid in the…”
Ouch. Layla nearly hit herself in the forehead with her own dead flashlight, her hand jumping up to block the sudden brightness. “Hey, watch?—”
“Sonofabitch.” Pete blundered back, shadows dancing, a sword of light bouncing crazily as the yellow plastic case hit the floor. “What thefuck, man?”
“What?” Layla yelped, backing up as well, almost going ass-over-teakettle into yet another pile of mildewed cloth—tarps, maybe left from previous inhabitants, slowly congealing into a lump. “What?”
“You’rebit!” he yelled, and his hands were suddenly full of a pistol. A very big one, in fact, Ack’s Desert Eagle, loaded with the special biter-shredding ammo. Its mouth looked huge and very black, shaking but definitely pointed in her direction. “You’re fuckingbit, you bitch!”
Oh no. Her heart was in her throat again, choking her. “Pete?—”
“Goddammit! You’re bit!” The pistol’s mouth wavered, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was aiming at. If it went off now, he might miss.
But at that minimal distance, he also mightnotmiss.
“I’m sorry!” Her hands were now up, one freighted with a partly dead tube of metal and batteries. “The vampire, he grabbed me, I’m sorry! Pete, come on, I’m still me, I’m?—”
“You brought it here!”
That wasn’t a bad guess, really. But the very idea hurt, slicing cleanly through any relief at finding someone she knew still alive. The mad thought that she could throw the dead flashlight at him rose, whirled away; Layla’s boot sank into the piled tarps and she almost went sprawling once more. “I’m still me!” she shouted, knowing she should be quiet, be calm, talk him down, but forGod’ssake he was going to shoot her. “Pete,don’t, I’m still me!”
BOOM.
CHAPTER 12
He would granttheir mortal toys a scant measure of efficacy, especially when wielded by the untrained or incapable. The strike hit his right shoulder, a hammerblow refusing to pierce the modified scapula, and flowered into sharp bits of metal perhaps capable of bleeding an unwary fledgling. It took a moment of concentration to seal his own flesh, denying exit to any drop of vital fluid, and he knew the wet red killglow was in his eyes as he gazed down at his leman.
His left hand curled about sweet Leila’s upper arm, careful not to squeeze; he steadied her gently. Bruises puffed over her pale eyes, her pretty nose swollen, a cut at the corner of her soft mouth; she was much the worse for wear. What part of the damage had been inflicted during wild flight or accident, he wondered, and what was the product of this coward’s fury?
Roses, copper, exhaustion, the light delicious musk, and that hint of fresh coffee. Mortal food could be a pleasure, though much lost its savor as age mounted. Still, she smelled downright edible, though terribly weary and no doubt in some pain.
“Leila.” Softly, tasting her name, attempting to ease her fear. “You are… alive. Good.”
She stared up at him, as if she could not quite credit her own senses. A tear collected on thick charcoal lower lashes, wrung free by shock or injury, and traced down her bruised cheek. Her lips, split and terribly chapped, trembled. A sorry state for a nymph; he must take far more care with her fragility.
Gods did not like their gifts misused.
A squeaky whisper from behind him. “Oh,fuck.”
Maximus blurred into motion, the whispering speed shading into mistform. His hand closed about the mortal male’s, and almost before he finished fully resolving into denser corporeality hesqueezed, hearing the crackle of breaking bone. Smoke rose from the gun’s barrel, pointed safely away into the mountains of detritus.
