It
was raining by the time they reached the cemetery, the kind of thin,
light drizzle that almost made you want a real storm. Almost. Lola
still couldn't stop thinking about open graves turned into squelching
swamps.
“So
are you going to tell us why we're here now?” Scherer asked her as
they got out of his car.
“I'd
rather show you.” Lola wasn't sure she could handle his derision if
she said the word “vampire.” Showing them the open graves would
at least convince them this was no run-of-the-mill murder. If there
even was such a thing.
He
threw his hands up and looked at Hardy. “We still doing things your
way?”
“We've
come this far,” Hardy said with grim humour. “Lead on,
MacDuff.”
Lola guided them through the cemetery, trying to
remember the way she and Tristesse had gone last night. In the grey
light of day, Crown Hill felt no less sinister. She hoped the myth
about vampires burning up in daylight was true. She wasn't ready to
run into Isaiah and his pack again.
Almost
as bad was the idea that she’d find the graves undisturbed, with no
trace of last night’s horror. What then? She’d lose any
credibility she had with Hardy and Scherer for starters. She bit her
lip and ploughed on, hoping she wasn’t about to make herself look
insane. And then she laughed silently at the idea that she needed
those
graves to be open and empty.
It
was a strange relief to find the graves, and strangely vindicating to
hear Hardy gasp and Scherer curse. There were five of them, lined up
between a marble angel and a Celtic cross. It had seemed like so many
more last night – all ripped open, the earth heaped all around the
gaping mouths of the graves. The casket lids were splinters, as if
Isaiah had reached in and dragged the dead out. Fog curled over the
ruined graves and Lola shivered, feeling dark intentions lingering in
the fog. Maybe that was just her imagination, but she didn’t dare
check the aura of the place. She already knew it would be tar-black
and rife with evil.
“What
the fuck?” Scherer hurried forward, past Lola to stand the edge of
the closest grave. “What the fuck is this? Grave robbing?”
“You
knew about this?” Hardy asked Lola, face thunderous. “Is this
some kind of game?”
“No!
I mean, yes, I did know. But it’s not that simple,” Lola added
quickly when Hardy looked like she might implode.
“You
need to talk fast,” Hardy started.
She
didn’t get any further.
A
mud-stained man dived out from behind the Celtic cross, shrieking
like a banshee. He launched himself at Scherer and the two tumbled
into the open grave, a mess of flailing limbs and wild screams. Hardy
leapt straight to her partner’s defence, pulling her gun from her
shoulder holster and rounding on his attacker. “Back up! Get off
him or I’ll shoot!”
“No!”
Lola rushed to her. If this was one of Isaiah’s pets, he might not
even notice a bullet. Panic fired through her as she scrambled to
think of something to do.
Down
in the grave, the two men slid around in wet dirt and the wreckage of
the casket. Scherer gripped his attacker’s shoulders, trying to
push him back. The man snapped and gnashed at Scherer, clearing
straining for his neck. Hardy seemed hesitant to shoot – no clear
shot, Lola guessed – but if they didn’t do something, Scherer was
going to be overpowered. She racked her brain, dozens of useless
spells flashing before her mind’s eye.
Impulsively,
she shoved past Hardy, dragging her nails across her wrist as she
did. A recent scar opened and her blood welled to the surface of her
skin. “Hey!” she called, waving her bleeding arm over the grave.
She felt like an idiot, but it worked. The man – vampire – lost
interest in Scherer immediately. He lurched up, hands hooking into
the earth to drag himself out of the hole. Lola’s heart shot into
her mouth. She hurriedly backed up as he reached for her, trying to
keep herself both out of reach but close enough to stay tempting. He
was fast, though, and she was certain any second he’d have her
pinned to the earth while he gnawed on her wrist.
Fear
gave her speed, but trying to run backwards made her clumsy. She
tripped and went down hard, jarring her knee and her spine. And just
as she’d feared, he was on her, hissing as he yanked her arm up
towards his mouth. She screamed, a combination of horror and pain,
and punched him with her free hand. Her rings smashed into his cheek,
carrying magical energy as well as physical power, and she saw sparks
fly. His cheek burned and he released her, his own cries of pain
joining hers.
Lola
pushed to her knees, wincing at the spike of pain in her left leg as
she did. The vampire clawed at his face, keening pitifully. The sound
made Lola's ears ring and she wanted it to stop – wanted him
to stop – but before she could even start to think of a plan, Hardy
stepped up behind him. Her gun went off twice, loud, staccato bangs
that deafened Lola for a split second. The man fell forward, his head
bouncing off Lola's knee. She screamed and kicked out instinctively.
His body rolled to the side, limp and unresisting. Most of the back
of his skull was gone.
Lola
was suddenly cold and clammy, then burning hot. She stared up at
Hardy. The other woman looked remarkably calm. “Scherer, you okay?”
she called.
Scherer
hauled himself out of the grave. He was covered in mud and had a set
of violent scratches down one cheek, but otherwise seemed unharmed.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He staggered over to the dead
body and nudged it with his shoe. “PCP?”
“Maybe.
The lab can decide.” Hardy offered Lola a hand up, but Lola
couldn't accept. She couldn't seem to move. The dead man was right in
front of her. She could see his brain. She could see blood. And a
tiny part of her wondered what power you'd find in a vampire's blood.
Self-disgust
swamped out everything else. Lola rolled onto her side, struggling
not to throw up. Hardy crouched down beside her, laying her hand on
Lola's shoulder.
“You
need to get your shit together,” she said, not unkindly. “We're
going to have a few questions for you, understand?”
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