“The town will wake up, given time. The hypnosis wears off unless he reinforces it, especially if it goes against what a person would normally do.”
“How do you know this?”
I had to bend the truth. She was in no shape for my life story. “I used to know a vampire. He was not like Ethan. He was a real man, good and decent. He helped me out of a jam and told me things. I wish he was here, because he’d kick this four-flushing dewdropper into the next state.”
Hefting the broom handle, I wondered if Duvert was due for another crack on the noggin. Vampires could recover fast from otherwise fatal injuries and not give a clue until it was too late to do anything. Even weakened and half conscious he could snap us in two a hell of a lot easier than I’d snapped the broom.
“Decision time, Katie. We can get on the train and head south or—”
“He’ll keep looking for me. What if he goes back to Sheldon and hurts my parents? What if he finds another girl and makes her do things she doesn’t want?”
“You’ve been thinking about this, huh?”
“Ever since I ran away. I want to go home. I want to be me again, not his puppet.”
“There’s always a Reno divorce,” I said, making a joke before raising a far more serious alternative. Katie beat me to it.
“Or I could be a widow,” she said in a low, steely voice. Her pale eyes were too hard for a sixteen-year-old’s face. “I thought about that. A lot.”
“Yes…”
“It’s better than killing myself. I thought of that, too, but he’d go turn someone else into a puppet, and I’d be dead.”
“There’s no advantage to it,” I agreed.
My tummy did another queasy flip. We were talking murder. Just thinking about the actual, physical act of killing someone, anyone, made me sick. I’d shot a man dead once, in the heat of a white-hot rage and to save others, but it bothered me. Every day it bothered me—I kept busy so as to not think about it.
But I knew people who weren’t bothered by killing. One of my gangster friends would help out gladly as a favor, but he was miles away down the tracks in Chicago. It would take time to get him here, but if need be I could keep Duvert out for the count.
I’m no movie heroine. I’m just Bobbi Smythe, a blond chicken who’s happy to let someone else do her dirty work. If you can’t bring yourself to go down in the sewer, call a rat.
“Katie, I’m gonna get us help. We’ll have to hole up. With him. It won’t be bad during the day but—”
For the second time that night someone crashed through a door to what I thought was a private place. Katie yelped and scrambled toward the window. I faced the threat.
Threats: badly dressed hometown guys. The banker looked punch-drunk, and I couldn’t tell if it was from his beating or months of forced hypnosis.
The four men stared at Duvert, silent.
Was now a good time to scream? It would bring the porter and stationmaster. But cops would get involved, because Duvert was a dead body, and here I was holding the murder weapon. They’d never believe anything about him being a vampire. They’d toss me in the tank, and I’d be a sitting duck for Duvert if he decided to invisibly float in to teach me a lesson.
I pulled the .38 from the purse still hanging from my arm. I didn’t want to kill them, but a shot in the foot would slow them down. “YOU! Listen to me!”
Their heads moved my way in unison, their eyes utterly empty. I’d half recognized it back in my dressing room. The people Jack hypnotized got that same look. On one person it was disturbing; four at once was intimidating as hell.
“Out of here. Now .”
Oh, my goodness. They were leaving . Shuffling out backward.
“Stop.”
They stopped.
“What are you doing?” Katie squeaked.
“I think I’m directing traffic, honey. Maybe all you need is a firm voice. Pick him up .” I pointed at Duvert’s body.
Each of them grabbed a limb, and then awkwardly they got through the door.