Skinwalker

“If he’s still here, he’s downstairs,” I said, barely controlling a frustrated growl. And I knew it was true. His scent on the air currents veered away from the stairs that led to the girls’ quarters. My lips peeled back. “Go!”

 

 

I shoved her and jumped over the table, landing beside a skirt-and-apron-covered leg that was attached to the stock inged foot. Miz A was wedged between the table and the wall, her face purpled with bruises and so pale she looked drained. Blood pumped from her upper arm.

 

I lifted a linen napkin from the floor and tied a tourniquet above the wound, around her arm. I used a long splinter of broken chair to twist it tight, and saw with satisfaction that the blood stopped pumping. Another body was half beneath her in a tangle of chains and blood. Christie. And she wasn’t breathing. I remembered the sound of gurgling.

 

I had no choice. I released the tourniquet. Blood flowed again, but more weakly this time. I stepped forward, my hip brushing the drapes away to reveal a slice of window and pale gray light. It was near dawn. Finally. Gently, in case she had suffered cervical spinal damage, I straightened Christie’s head, opening her airway. The instant intake of air was reassuring, but if I let go of her head, it was going to flop back again, closing her airway. And Miz A’s tourniquet wasn’t going to tighten all by itself.

 

“I can do it.”

 

I whipped the shotgun one-handed, animal fast, my finger on the trigger. It centered on Indigo’s white face as she danced back, both hands in the air, surrendering. “It’s just me!”

 

“I told you—”

 

“I have my cell.” She held out a bright pink, multikeyed phone, and slid around the table and under my arm, slapping the cell into my hand as she took Christie’s head, maintaining the airway. “It’s Leo.”

 

“You know how to keep a tourniquet tight?” I asked, pointing with the wireless.

 

I was gratified to see her handle the airway with a knee and the tourniquet with her hands. “Red Cross first aid course,” she said. She was still pale and wide-eyed, but seemed calmer. Sometimes it helped with panic to have a job to do.

 

“Fine.” I lifted a long splinter from the floor and set it beside her. “I reckon you know how to use a stake too.” She wet her lips and nodded. Not that the rogue would let her. I remembered the cloying tug of his mind. Stopping me. But it might help her to feel a little safer.

 

I put the phone to my ear as I moved back toward the hallway. “Hang on,” I said, then set the cell on an overturned chair. Once I was satisfied that the hallway was secure, I slung the weapon across my back and retook the phone.

 

“Okay. I know you can’t do the bat thing, but if you want Katie to live to sunset, you better get here before she goes to sleep.” Lore said that vamps who suffer total blood loss and can’t feed before they sleep either wake up rogue or don’t wake at all. I didn’t think Katie could feed. She was too far gone for that. But maybe Leo could help her.

 

He hesitated an instant, as if checking the time. “I am close. Open the front door.”

 

Weapon to my shoulder again, I sped to the front. Opened the door. Dull light splashed across the floor, filtering into the room. The security system was not in its console; it was splinters, the shattered security screens in the corner. A single red light flashed on and off.

 

From outside, I smelled the changing patterns of the rogue’s scent. He was gone. I slung the shotgun on its strap to rest behind my back and pushed the crosses back as well. Better not threaten the vamp I had just called for help, no matter how innocent the mistake. I could use some clothes, however. I looked at the drapery over two narrow windows and considered pulling a Scarlett O’Hara, but before I could act, I felt a cold wind. It whirled past my body, carrying with it Leo Pellissier’s scent.

 

“Shut the door,” he said from the hallway. Breathing hard. The list of reasons why vamps breathe is short; I could now add “doing the hundred-yard dash” to it. Leo’s usual papyrus scent was overlaid with a faint, scorched aroma, like browned steak with the juices trapped inside. I pushed the front door and it closed with a heavy thud, shutting out dawn light. I heard Leo move into Katie’s office. Heard him curse. And the office door shut.

 

Sirens sounded in the distance. I ran to the dining room. “Indigo?” The girl looked up, her face tight with concentration. “Cops and paramedics are here. Leo is with Katie in her office. Anyone who goes in there is likely become supper. Understand?” Vamps are unpredictable at night. I had no idea how bad that might get in daylight, one injured, and the other away from his coffin. Or wherever the old ones slept.

 

Indigo nodded, biting her cheek as if to keep from saying anything. Or maybe to keep from screaming.

 

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