F Wilson - Midnight Mass

"Oh, I don't think so," said the first one. "I think you're gonna stop and visit."

Lacey was within half a dozen feet of them now. "Been there, done that. Hey, boys . . . don't you remember me?"

With that she reached behind her, ripped her pistol free, and began firing wildly, pulling the trigger as fast as it would allow. Joe saw the one with the shotgun take a round in the chest. His arms flew outward as the bullet punched him back. Lacey's second shot went wild but the third caught the fat one in the gut. The last Vichy was drawing his pistol when Lacey's fourth shot caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around.

Four shots, three hits, but she didn't stop there. She kept firing.

Joe leaped out from the alley and dashed toward her as she stood over the three downed men and pumped round after round into their twitching bodies. He reached her as the slide on her pistol locked back on empty.

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. "Lacey! What—?" Then he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It was them, Uncle Joe," she sobbed. "I recognized them. They're the ones who—" She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Joe glanced at their blood-splattered remains. "Lacey ... Jesus. . . are you—?

"I'm okay. That was for Enrico ... and me. Let's just get this done and get out of here, okay?"

Joe opened his mouth to speak—he figured he should say something—but his mind was blank. He settled for a curt nod. They could talk later.

Carole arrived then with her book bag full of stakes and hammers. She took one look at the bodies, then put her arm around Lacey's shoulders.

"It's all right, Lacey. You did the Lord's work."

Lacey irritably shrugged off her arm. "That wasn't any lord's work—that was mine."

Joe caught the flash of hurt in Carole's eyes and felt bad for her. Lacey's rough edges weren't getting any smoother. No time now to explain his niece to Carole.

He took the book bag from her and turned toward the Post Office. "Let's go-

He led the way up the steps. Once inside he looked around. Empty. Sunlight began to stream through the east windows.

"If there's a cellar, that's where they'll be."

Lacey pointed to a door to the left of the clerk windows. "I saw the woman and her entourage go through there."

The door was locked. No problem. Joe kicked it open. Another door, unlocked, opened onto a flight of stairs leading down into a darker space.

"We'll do as many as we can in the time we have," he said, reaching into the bag and handing out the flashlights. "But we do the woman first. From what I've seen, she seems to be in charge."

He didn't need a light of his own. The stairwell appeared well lit to him.

He hurried down to where the steps made a sharp right turn at the bottom into a dank, dusty space—

—and there they were. He could see all eight of them in the cool darkness, stretched out on an assortment of beds and cots. Like a dormitory in hell. If their daysleep was anything like his the past two nights, it was like death.

Joe looked around. Concrete walls, no windows, junk piled in the near-right corner. He spotted the woman's bed on the far side of the room next to the wall and immediately moved toward her. Even if they managed to stake only one this morning, he wanted it to be her—to send a message back to Franco that nobody he sent here was safe. Eventually he wanted Franco to know that not even he was safe.

"Hey," Lacey called from behind him. "This guy's awake."

"This one too," Carole said.

Joe had been so fixed on the woman that he'd paid no attention to her six guards, arrayed around her like spokes on a wheel. He looked down at the nearest and nearly jumped when he saw wide dark eyes staring back at him, sharp teeth bared in a snarl.

Joe didn't understand. How could they be awake?

"Forget them for now. The woman first."

He stopped at her bedside and found her awake as well. She lay on her back, staring up at him in fear and wonder.

"This is really creepy," Lacey said.

Joe had to agree. What was going on here? Unless.. . maybe the gunfire outside had roused them. At least none of them was able to get up.

No time to waste. He dropped the book bag on her abdomen and pulled out the heavy maul and one of the stakes. Carole stepped up beside him and played her beam over the woman, illuminating the corner of the room like daylight.

Joe lifted the stake. This wasn't how he'd expected this to go. He hadn't counted on his victims staring him in the face as he pounded stakes through their chests.

But this was no time for squeamishness. Steeling himself, he placed the sharpened tip against her chest, just to the left of her breastbone. He'd never done this before, but he imagined that was where the heart sat. As he raised the hammer, the woman hissed and grabbed the stake with both of her hands.

Joe jumped back in surprise, releasing his own grip.

"Dear God!" Carole gasped. "She can move!"

Joe recovered and snatched the stake back from her grasp. He broke her grip easily.

"But she's weak," he said.

A deafening blast echoed through the basement and Joe felt a stabbing impact, like a punch, in his back.

A shot!

Another blast as he half turned—another blow, this time to his shoulder.

"Get down!" he shouted to Carole and Lacey. "Way down!"

He feared the ricochets in this concrete box could be almost as deadly as a direct hit. He turned and found the shooter, the pistol wavering in his hand as he aimed another shot. Joe ducked to his left, darted to the man's side, and snatched the gun from his hand.

"Hey!" Lacey cried, popping her head up. She pointed to a guard near her. "This one's going for his gun too!"

"Get it!" Joe shouted. He turned and lunged for another of the woman's guards who was lifting his automatic, moving like someone in a slow-motion movie. Joe tore it from his grasp. "Get their guns! All of them."

He saw Lacey struggling with her guard. She had a two-handed grip on the barrel. Joe was just about to step in and help when she twisted it from his grasp. He turned and saw Carole pulling a pistol from another guard's belt before he could reach it. Joe disarmed two more, then stepped over to the seventh male, the one with the cot against the opposite wall, and found him unarmed.

"You!" Joe cried when he spotted his ruined left eye.

This was one of Franco's guards, the one who'd stripped him naked before taking him to his boss. What had Franco called him?

"Artemis!" That was it. "What are you doing here?"

The good eye widened. "You know me?" the vampire rasped.

That surprised Joe for an instant, then he remembered that his face had been changed by the sun. He wished he knew what he looked like.

He jabbed one of the pistols at him. "Too bad you didn't bring Franco with you. When we finish with the lady, you're next!"

This was perfect: the woman and Franco's right-hand man in one morning. He turned and stalked back toward the guards, snatching up a couple of machetes as he reached them. "Take their machetes too. Don't leave them with anything that can be used against us."

He tossed the pistols and machetes toward the foot of the steps. Carole and

Lacey did the same. He was most relieved to have the guns out of play. The bullets hadn't affected him, but Carole and Lacey's lives had been on the line.