J Duncan - Deadworld

“It’s okay. It’ll be enough. What area?”

“Wicker Park,” she said. “That going to be good enough?”

“It will be. Drake leaves nothing to chance. He figured you might not narrow his location down exactly, so he gave us a clue.”

“He did?”

Her forehead wrinkled up between her eyebrows, a cute trait Nick had failed to notice before. There was more and more about this woman he found appealing. Kissing her may have been a mistake, he realized. He had wanted to know, though, figuring it might be the only chance he would ever get to see, and he had been right: It had not been mostly Shelby.

“Did you hear when Drake moved away from the phone? It was hard to make out.”

Jackie nodded. “I couldn’t make out what he said.”

“He said ‘ask the sister.’”

“A church?” She looked stunned. “The fucker has been hiding out in a church?” She picked her phone back up to dial downtown.

“Jackie, keep them away. Seriously,” Nick said, laying a hand on her arm. “They get close, and the girl is dead. There is no sneaking up here.”

She nodded. “I know. Gamble! I need church addresses in that area you gave, and keep everyone out. If anyone is in the area, get them out now. I’ll let you know more when we get over there. Call me with addresses when you get them.” She shoved the phone into her pocket. “Ready to go, Nick?”

“Yeah.” He found himself smirking at her again. This woman, whom he sensed being on the verge of quaking in her boots, didn’t think twice about jumping into the jaws of death. He wanted to kiss her again for luck.

“What? What’s with the look?”

“Nothing important. Let’s go get this done.”

They were in her Durango, and Jackie could not get comfortable riding shotgun in her own car. On a casual drive, perhaps, but they were heading toward a confrontation with something more and less than human, and not being behind the wheel tugged on the strings of control. The closer they got, the more nervous she became, which was very unlike her. When did she ever get nervous chasing down the bad guys? She never even thought about it, but now it began weighing on her with each passing second. This was no ordinary bad guy. The guy could take them out quicker than she could down three shots.

“Why a church?” she wondered. “Crosses and holy water are yet another myth, I take it?”

“And we like garlic, too. Go figure,” Nick said with a smile.

“Smart-ass.”

He shrugged, whipped around a pair of cars using the emergency lane, and clocked her Durango up to a hundred on an open stretch of freeway. A light rain was falling, and Jackie swore they were going to hydroplane at any moment. “That goes without saying, I suppose.”

Gamble called back a moment later and began to run through a list of possible churches in the area. On the fourth one, Nick stopped her.

“That one. That’s it,” he said. “Has to be.”

“I’ll call you back when we verify,” she said to Gamble and clicked off. “You sure?”

“That was the name of his church back in 1934. He was a minister back then, too. Easy access to victims.”

“God, that’s sick.”

He shrugged. “Practical if you are looking for easy prey.”

Prey. One little word, and Jackie was reminded that Nick was not quite what he appeared, a dying man in need of blood to stay alive. “Did you ever get used to…”

“No, Jackie. I hate it. It’s a very difficult thing to live with,” he said plainly.

“Shelby says… said it’s very addictive.”

“It is, but for all the power it gives, it makes you weak.”

“Ah. I think I see.” Jackie had not really thought of it like that. Of course, when did she ever think about such things? But Nick was right. You had to take the life from people in order to get the strength, and no matter how you sliced that pie, it was bad. “Can we kill him?”

“Sure,” Nick said, nodding once. “Drake’s powerful, but not invincible. He can bleed like everyone else, but the power can heal with amazing speed, as Shelby showed you.”

Jackie could not argue with that, but she was not sure she would do it again knowing how it affected a person.

“If you see him, you don’t think or ask questions. You just shoot. Got it?”

Jackie snorted. “That’s about as ass-backward an order as you can give, Sheriff, but I got no problem with that, unless he’s holding that little girl.”

“Fair enough, but shoot him a lot. There is no such thing as overkill with this guy. A nice shot to the temple will likely just have him spitting the bullet back at you.”

“Christ, Nick. Seriously?”

“I’m not joking. With real blood, the control over the body is phenomenal. If we get him, you empty that gun of yours into him, and you shoot for damage, not to kill. Blow his goddamn head apart if you can, take a leg off. Concentrate your shots and put the biggest fucking hole in him you can. Feel free to take out any and all anger.”

They were cruising by downtown, the first vestiges of light encroaching on the charcoal sky. The skyline was an eerie sight, a dark and ragged maw of teeth filled with leery, weeping eyes. Soulless concrete, glass, and steel. Some found it full of life, exciting, vigorous, a life unto itself, but Jackie could never quite get that feeling from the city. Why do I even live here? At the moment, it felt filled with an inexplicable taint. Death, it seemed, was everywhere, and they were now going after its master.

“Jackie? You okay?”

“I just have a bad feeling about this, is all.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t scared,” he replied.

“Did I say I was scared?”

“You didn’t have to,” Nick said. “I could see it in the way you were looking out the window just then.”

“Well, pay more attention to the road then, damnit.” He was exasperating. It was almost like having… Laurel in the car. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m a bit worried about this, and I’m still not used to doing anything without Laur around. It’s just… strange.”

“I know. Nothing will be the same around here without Shelby either. She kept me on my toes. I will truly miss her.”

“Let’s deal with Drake first. This is dragging me down.”

“Agreed. Sorry.”

The Durango smoked its tires suddenly as Nick took them through a red light and pulled a hard right against the oncoming traffic. The sound of crunching metal and exploding glass could be heard behind them, but Jackie was too busy bracing herself in the seat. “What the hell?”

Nick wove in and out of the early morning traffic, thankfully light. Doing eighty in a thirty-five could get you in trouble. His hands were clenched on the steering wheel as he focused on the road ahead, mouth set in a grim and furious line. “He’s feeding.”

“On the little girl? Now?” Jackie had the image of a young girl with strawberry-blond hair zip-tied to a stainless-steel table under the intensity of a fluorescent light, a bright tube of red flowing out of her arm, an innocent life draining away into another. “Shit, Nick. Drive faster.”

The First Hope Church of Christ had lights on when they pulled into the parking lot. The clock on the Durango read 5:47 AM. Nick had a sinking feeling that the “sister” mentioned in the earlier phone call might likely be inside. A sign hanging over the main double doors read FIRST HOPE DAY CARE. A SAFE AND LOVING ENVIRONMENT FOR YOUR CHILD. SIGN UP NOW! Around the corner of the parking lot loomed a dark, converted Victorian home. The placard hanging between two posts in the small yard had the words TANENBAUM’S FUNERAL HOME in elegant, gold script.

The sense of Drake permeated the air so heavily Nick could not decide where exactly it was coming from.