Rachel Caine - Fall of Night

‘Here,’ Oliver growled, and bumped her aside. ‘Leave it to those with the power to manage it, for God’s sake.’ His hands were burnt, she could see the lurid red streaks vivid in the glow of the flash, but he used his shirt again as a cushion and grabbed on. One strong heave, shoulders bunching and a surprising number of muscles flexing under the paper-white skin, and the grate shrieked slowly upward. It got to the top, and there was a second click. He let go. It held in place, concealed with just the sharp tips of it sticking down. If she hadn’t known it was there, she wouldn’t have known to look.

Oliver fell back, chest heaving as he pulled in breath after unneeded breath; the burns had gone all the way up to his shoulders, and the bright red flesh looked unhealthy and extremely tender. But Oliver was old . Why was it so hard on him? Amelie could handle the stuff, after all. Then again, Jesse had been badly burnt, too. Was it just that some vamps were less sensitive to it than others? Or maybe even something in the lineage – Bishop’s bloodline being more resistant. Interesting problem, and part of her brain chewed away on it even as she asked him, ‘What can I do?’

‘Go away,’ he snapped, and shut his eyes. His face was taut with effort, and Claire backed off. Most vampires with silver burns had to have blood, quickly. She didn’t necessarily want to be Oliver’s portable life support unit.

Jesse moved forward with her arm around the still-almost-limp Elizabeth. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You can collapse later, but for now move your ass, Oliver. Help will be on the other side, if our friends aren’t in bigger trouble than we are. Claire, you go first. I’ll take care of your friend. But we can’t stay here. You don’t build a trap unless the hunter comes to take his prize, sooner or later.’

Claire dived into the narrow, concrete tunnel. Her knees and elbows and palms were already abraded from the earlier journey, and this time it hurt like hell. She, or all of them, had shed little slivers of door glass along the way, and she could feel the shards stabbing into her skin. One big exercise in pain, and exhaustion, and claustrophobia, and she was very glad to see the metal of the door at the end.

Wait.

We didn’t close that , she thought, and put the flashlight in her mouth so she could lean forward and throw her weight against it. Nothing. Not even a budge. No handle to turn on this side, and even if there was, Claire thought that it might have been nearly impossible to get the right amount of leverage at the awkward, bent-over angle she had to use. She remembered it had been tough to open before.

Staying where she was didn’t seem like much of an option. Neither was backing up; behind her, Jesse was somehow managing to balance Liz’s head and shoulders and crawl backward, dragging the girl with her; Eve must have been trying to support Liz’s legs.

Which, from the length of the tunnel, would have left Oliver either in the other room, or dangerously close to those silver spikes on the gate.

Claire lunged forward and slammed her shoulder into the door – once, twice, three times … and it suddenly gave, spilling her out into the other room. She rolled through a pool of congealing, rotten blood, and the nausea welled up again as she spotted the severed head of the bat-thing, and Derrick’s body … and then a brilliant beam of light swept over her, blinding her, and she heard Shane say, ‘Claire!’ in a breathless tone that made her shiver from the bottom of her soul. Next thing she knew, she was swept up in his arms, and lost in a strong, enveloping hug. ‘God, the blood—’

‘Not mine,’ she said. ‘And it smells disgusting.’

‘I wasn’t going to mention it,’ he said, and laughed a little, holding her close. ‘I’m guessing it came courtesy of that thing there?’

‘Yeah. Whatever it is.’

‘Nasty. Did you kill it?’

‘That would have been awesome, but Jesse did the honours …’ Claire’s voice faded as she pulled back, and she glanced back at the tunnel. Jesse was out, and Myrnin was helping her pull Liz free. Michael, standing ready, grabbed Eve’s reaching, flailing hand and yanked her out, too, and straight into his arms.

Nobody hugged Oliver. Not surprisingly. Although Michael did frown at the sight of him. ‘What the hell happened to you ?’

‘What does it seem?’ Oliver growled, as he settled his shirt back on over his silver-abraded arms. It must have hurt. ‘Someone built a very nice rat trap with the girl as its cheese. And although it pains me to admit it, without Claire’s cleverness we might have been stuck there.’

‘Bad news, then, because we might be stuck here, too,’ Pete said. He was farther back – covering their asses, Claire guessed. ‘We’ve got company, folks. And I’m a little short on firepower up in here. Jesse?’

‘Coming,’ she said. She still sounded unruffled, a total contrast to the tension everyone else seemed to feel; it was as if none of this bothered her a bit.

And Myrnin seemed quite taken with that, Claire thought; she’d never seen him look at anyone with quite that much admiration. It surprised her that it made her feel a little … what was that? Jealous? Couldn’t be.

‘What’ve we got?’ Shane asked. He stepped forward, too, because if there was any kind of a fight, Shane Collins had to be on the front lines of it; Claire rolled her eyes and pulled him back. ‘What? It was just a question!’

‘Looks like six guys out there,’ Pete said. ‘Six I could spot, anyway. All armed. The four of you might be bulletproof, but I’m not in the mood to try dodging semi-auto rounds today. Any ideas?’

‘It’s the only way out,’ Claire said. ‘At least, that I know of. Eve, you take that wall, look for something we didn’t see before. I’ll go this way.’

But it was actually Shane who found the exit – a rusted iron grate just big enough for a person to fit through, set in the floor in the corner next to an equally rusty water main. Flood control, Claire guessed; it must go directly into a run-off tunnel. Well, that was a good thing. Run-off tunnels generally spilt out somewhere, and if they didn’t, there would be other ways out. Maintenance crews regularly came down to clean out brush and debris that collected in them.

As Jesse pried up the grate – too heavy for anyone else except Oliver, and his hands were pretty much shot for the moment – Pete called back to them with a new, tense note in his voice. ‘Okay, they heard that. They’re on their way, I can hear them talking. Look, they’re probably going to spray and pray, unless they’ve got some kind of anti-vamp devices.’

‘Spray and pray?’ Claire asked Shane, who shrugged and mimed firing an automatic weapon in a circle. ‘Oh. Not good.’

‘Nope.’ He bent and added his muscles to Jesse’s. Between the two of them, they managed to get it up and over, and it fell with a heavy, loud boom on the other side. ‘Okay, Jesse, you first.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay. Michael, you go, make sure the way is clear. I’ll help Eve down.’

He didn’t protest; Michael jumped down, and Claire had no idea how far down it was, but it sounded like a long drop. No way any of them could make it without vampire help, or risk broken bones at the least. It’d be pretty dumb to die of a broken neck, after all this trouble.

‘Ready,’ Michael’s voice echoed up. Jesse braced herself over the hole and held out her hands to Eve. Who hesitated.

‘Maybe there’s some other way,’ she said.

‘Maybe you’d like to see if you’re bullet resistant,’ Jesse said. ‘But I believe your husband won’t let you fall.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t know about you,’ Eve said. She sighed and held out her hands. ‘Fine. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.’