The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(80)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Shut up,” the other snarled, eyes black as pits.

“Frank, it’s that demon witch!” Blondie said, clearly shaken.

“I said shut up!” he said again, his gaze darting to the windows, and I stood with my feet placed for balance, breathing in the growing scent of angry vampire. Their heavy slacks and long-sleeved shirts were coated with a charm retardant, and their boots were made for running. Military? I wondered, knowing you could get them at any outlet, though I personally wouldn’t trust the anticharm glaze anymore. Their hair, too, was cut close to their skull, and my lips curled. Military vampires were just asking for trouble. They were too pretty for that and often strayed from orders.

“Are they in there?” I said as I looked at the device, and he pulled it closer.

“We will be free of them,” Frank said, his voice taking on the cadence of the misled. “They use us and trade us like dolls.” His head came up, eyes cold with hatred. “They don’t deserve life!”

“You had me until that last one,” I said, fingers moving in a charm to harness the line’s energy into my tingling fingertips. “Look, I understand about wanting to change society, but this isn’t how to do it. You’re hurting people.”

“They killed my sister!” the vampire shouted, and when he stood, I released my spell.

“Dilatare!” I yelled, the ball of light exploding in the light hanging over the table.

Glass shattered. Jenks darted to David, hiding behind him as his rifle blew a hole in the ceiling. Teeth clenched, David leaped at the blond vampire, rifle poised as a club.

“Not the ceiling!” Mark shouted from behind the counter. “Damn it, Rachel! I’m still making payments!”

Dust rained down in a cloudy mix of pixy sparkles. David and the blond vampire were on the floor, crashing into chairs and tables. The other lay dazed, slumped in the booth, and I watched as the device fell from his grip to hit the tile.

“Got it!” I shouted, diving under the table.

Awareness flashed across the dark vampire’s face, and with a savage grin, he dropped down under the table to meet me.

I couldn’t stop. I slid under the table, slamming into him. Thick and heady, his scent struck me, diving deep as I gasped and struggled to pull back from under him. Snarling, he reached for my shoulder, teeth bared. Adrenaline sang, and I kicked wildly at him, my head thumping the bottom of the table as I wedged the device out from under his foot.

“Get off!” I screamed, flooding him with ever-after, and he howled, flinging himself back and hitting the wall.

Scrambling, I tucked the mystics to me. A hand clamped on the back of my shirt and pulled me out. My butt slid on the tiled floor as I spun in a dizzying circle, landing almost in the center of the room again.

But I could breathe, the oppressive feel of the air under the table washed away. “Thanks, David!” I panted, then froze, the mystics pressed against my middle. It hadn’t been David.

“You!” I said, scrambling up and backing away from that same vampire I’d seen on the bridge. My pulse pounded at the absolute confidence and anger in his blue eyes. The room had gone silent, and my first impulse to blast him choked into dismay as he shook his head and held up a little lantern that was anything but, seeing as Jenks was in it, the pixy as mad as a wet banshee, the tip of his sword pressed into the corners as he looked for a way out. Shit, he’d caught Jenks.

I kept backing up as the dark-haired vampire crawled out from under the table, his lips pressed tight and eyes black as he dusted himself off. Mark was hiding behind the counter, and David had the blond one pinned to the floor, rifle at his chest.

“That belongs to me,” the Kisten look-alike said, soft with threat and promise. My heart pounded. His voice was higher than Kisten’s, and his face narrower. His hair, though, looked naturally fair, not dyed, and he smiled as he saw me look at it.

“Who are you?” I said, not expecting an answer as I backed up until a survivable eight feet separated us. I knew for a fact that Kisten didn’t have a brother, but vampires played with their children’s bloodlines as if they were Thoroughbreds. The man before me had probably once belonged to Piscary, discarded or traded like a duplicate card when Kisten showed the proper balance of domination and submission the master vampire preferred. No wonder they hated them, even as they were conditioned to love and die for them.

“Give me the mystics,” he said, hand shaking slightly and pupils slowly widening.

I shook my head, imagining Jenks among the broken shards, his dust slowly fading.

“Give me the mystics!” he screamed, and I jumped, startled into pulling on the line and making my hair float.

“Back off,” I whispered to David. “Give him back his man.”

In a sliding sound of fabric, David pulled back from the man on the floor. I’d made the newly arrived vampire lose his temper, and clearly that bothered him as he flipped his hair out of his eyes. Shoulders back, he took several cleansing breaths. Maybe it was his temper that had made him unsuitable, because by God, he looked perfect. Perfect and untouchable.

“I’m Ayer,” he said, voice creeping over my skin and raising goose bumps. “If you want this back alive, give me my mystics.” He gave Jenks a shake to make sure there was no question.

“Okay.” I stood up straight, looking to buy some time. David was limping as he joined me, wiping the blood from his cut lip and scowling. “Tell me why you want them,” I said, and a hint of bitterness stained Ayer’s perfect beauty.

Motions slow, he went to help the blond vampire up, setting Jenks on the table before extending a thin hand to his friend. “I hear you almost lost your life trying to save Ivy,” he said as he tugged the vampire’s shirt.

I nodded, glancing at the empty parking lot. Edden, where in hell are you?

“Then you know why. The masters use us like things. It has to end.”

“By killing them?” I said, looking past him to the streets emptied by fear and the vampire and Were graffiti mixed like continuous acts of aggression. “We can’t survive a second Turn.”

“We can’t survive without it,” he said, and my eyes flicked to his arm, only now noticing the long burn visible in glimpses through a tear in his shirt. His clothes, too, were dirty, making me wonder if he’d been involved with the mob at the arena. “Give them to me. I’m not going to ask again.”

“I agree the current system sucks,” I said, wondering if I could break the lantern without cutting Jenks to shreds. “Putting them to sleep isn’t helping. Or haven’t you bothered to take a look past your carefully constructed blinders?”