Seconds. Only seconds, to find a way to save his life. Unable even to put up his hands to fend the vampire off, lest he give him something more to hold on to. His leg was on fire. His torn side was bleeding. He could feel every follicle in his scalp and each finger pressed into his skull, squeezing harder. There was so much pain he could hardly think—
Pain?
The vampire was hurting him.
He can't hurt me with his fangs out.
And to bring out a vampire's fangs?
Jared yanked his shirt up, plunging his fingers into his wounded side, goring them, then thrust them upward. Droplets of blood flew free. The hand in his hair slipped loose. His weight fell back onto the staircase, which gave a wooden groan and shifted suddenly lower. Jared wobbled and dropped to one knee, looking up just in time to see two pitch-black eyes glowering down at him, before the stairs at once gave way, dragging him into the dark.
He landed hard, skinning a palm on the fractured steps, momentarily stunned by the impact and the reverberation of timber collapsing around him. The staircase had fragmented as it fell, and on striking the floor it had split down the middle, allowing him to ease his calf off the splintered wood.
Shooting a glance upward, he gave a quick test of his leg. It set his teeth on edge, but if he used half his weight, he could walk. The vampire was nowhere to be seen. Jared oriented himself and turned for the hallway door, wincing as he broke into a sprint. He was wide open for attack, and with the vampire likely headed to rearm or cut off the path to the Seal, there was only one hope left.
If only I'da gone with the smaller one! Idiot!
Hobbling into the main hallway, his footsteps far too loud. He was almost there. But if the vampire came on him now—
He reached the row of doors leading off the hall, but in the moonless light of the few unboarded windows, he wasn't sure which one led to his ploy. It was beyond the doorway where he'd thought he'd first seen the vampire, where he'd later talked to him of cornfields and bloodbaths, but now every doorframe looked the same.
Over his frantic breaths, he could hear the vampire moving upstairs—he didn't have long. Something flickered in the corner of his eye, something like a light. He twisted to look, seeing for a second the broken wire of the work lights dangling over one of the doors. He started toward it. In his haste, he struck his heel too heavily on the floor, lighting a fire in his torn muscles. Choking down a cry, he sank into a crouch to clutch at his leg—a noise from ahead—the vampire was on the stairs.
Jared staggered upright, but his calf was cramping too hard to bear his weight. Another step dropped him to a crouch again, now in front of the doorway where the vampire had been scuffing his feet in the dust. As he started to rise, he froze.
A clammy desolation wrapped itself around his heart, a sour, seizing despair. He gasped in a breath, the hairs down his body erect. He could not run—he could not even walk—his plan was ridiculous, and in this lonely place he would meet his end.
Movement in the periphery.
Jared turned.
In the weak light of the moonless night, he could see the vampire at the end of the hall, razor blades glinting dully in his claws. A fist raised and drew back to launch—Jared jolted upright, twisting to run—and scuffed his heel hard on a protrusion on the floor. Unbalanced, he toppled sideways through the doorframe. Blades sheared past his shoulder as he crashed headlong into the dust. He shot out a palm to catch his fall, then lunged forward, scrabbling across the floorboards on his forearms, pushing off on his good leg, making for the shelter of the desk at the back.
Behind him, the sounds of the vampire stopping short in the doorway. Jared hurled himself forward and rolled left, his calf and side burning. The vampire stood frozen in the doorframe, an odd look on his face, a fistful of blades ready to lob at his torso. Grabbing the side of the desk Jared heaved himself toward it. Blades riddled the vacated floor behind him, one catching his shoe before he could drag his leg behind cover. But here, his pain was forgotten. For this was where he'd been trying to go.
Here lay the object of his earlier preparations. It hadn't fit in his bag. It had been cumbersome on the subway. It was impossible to hide on his person, and so he had stashed it here. Jared snatched up the super soaker and took a long shot.
Running water cleared the length of the room to splatter the vampire's chin and chest, wetting his shirt through. The fabric's color changed instantly from white to red. His mouth and black eyes opened wide. He let out a horrible scream, throwing his arms across his chest, where the sleeves stained crimson in the spray.
Wincing, Jared kept up the stream, but in another moment the jet expired, dropping to a trickle. He pumped frantically as the vampire staggered back from the doorway. Hitting the trigger again, he caught him in the shoulder, drawing another scream before the monster lurched out of sight.
"Running again?" Jared hollered. "Be a man, and lemme finish this!"
He clambered to his feet, hefting the gun. He had shelled out for the biggest one. This model came equipped with a strap-on water reserve, and he pulled on the backpack as fast as he could before tearing after the vampire.
The monster was already halfway down the hall. Jared sent a torrent after him, soaking the backs of the legs and bringing him down with a cry. He sprinted closer, pumping furiously. The vampire rose, headed toward the sill where his folded coat still lay. In the pale light of the window, Jared could see something moving on his face. He nearly stumbled as he realized what it was—a flap of skin, sloughed loose in the spray, was folding itself back into place.
He aimed and fired. The vampire leaped back, avoiding the brunt of the blast. Then spinning on his heel, he rushed for the exit. Jared ran for all he was worth, his cramping leg screaming at him, redirecting the stream at the door. The water cut across it in a liquid bar, but the vampire dropped to all fours and shot underneath, vanishing from sight.
Jared burst through the door after him, out into the open—and skidded to a halt.
Of the vampire, there was no sign. There were only the dark trees hemming in the abandoned buildings. The chirr of cicadas screened the noise of the traffic in the distance. Lights winked through holes in the foliage, but the paths through the bushes and trees held patches of pitch black, and ample opportunity for ambush. Fingers tense on the trigger of the gun, he cast his eyes about him, but there was no movement aside from the branches shifting in the breeze.
Cursing, Jared limped back into the building and picked his way through the dark, up the remaining flight of stairs to retrieve the Seal and the flashlight. On his way back through the hallway, he swung the flashlight beam across the floor in wariness of what he had tripped on earlier, but there was nothing save footprints in the dust.
As he passed the windowsills leading up to the front door, his eyes fell on a neatly folded bundle of cloth.
The vampire's coat and jacket, just where he had left them.
He hesitated, then, remembering the something stuffed hastily in a pocket, moved the flashlight to his teeth and the gun's weight to his hip to take up the clothes in both hands. He examined them, flicking his eyes up at intervals to scan the hall. All was still.
The coat's fabric was heavy and crisp, and its pockets were three. All were empty save one, in which was tucked a scrap of paper.
He unfolded it.
On it was a list, written in a script so dated and ornate he could hardly make it out. The text seemed to be mostly street intersections, some followed by a letter or pair of letters, some with a time beside them. All but the last two rows had been crossed out.
Jared's stomach clenched as he noted one of those struck out—60th and Park, the panhandling address of Sue's vampire attack informant. The one following that, he guessed, was beside the alley where he'd met the vampire for the first and second times. Beneath that the pattern broke, listing only the power station and the letter "S," then below that—to a raising of bumps down his arms—he read the street corner of his own apartment. Below that, the first not crossed out, was the name of the compound in which he currently stood, with the letters "Su." The sole remaining intersection he didn't recognize, and it was followed by a time and a "Th."
Thursday...?
He turned the paper over. Nothing on the back.
Other people to stalk and kill, huh?
He made to pocket the note, but on second thought, memorized the last line and put it back where he had found it. The jacket's pockets were empty. With another quick look around, he did his best to refold the garments, then tucked them back onto the sill. Hefting his gun, he made his way cautiously out of the building, starting at and dousing a rat on the way, then around the perimeter, to the place where the veil of trees was thinnest, opening onto an intersection. Across this he hurried, grateful for the hustle of the city, and waited on high alert until the next bus, where he turned the note over in his mind.
After their last battle, the vampire had appeared to retreat, but had followed Jared home.
This time...I'll follow him.
✶✞ Happy new moon. Did you follow the scuffs? ✶✞