“Take him to the car,” I ordered. I didn’t know if they had a car, but they’d gotten to town somehow. It seemed a good bet.
They carried him across the station while Katie and I hung back. The porter lay on the floor, feebly moving. Oh, hell. I went to the ticket grill. The manager was likewise abused. I urged Katie to grab her little case, and then we slipped out to the street.
Duvert had a paneled truck. A smart choice: he could ride in back during the day, protected from the sun.
His minions had the back open to lift him in. Sure enough there was a trunk, looking uncannily like the one Jack used when he went on out-of-town trips.
I abruptly saw a problem about to happen. Duvert could not have contact with his earth or he’d recover quicker. I shot forward, Katie at my heels.
“Get in the front cab,” I told her, and poked at the mayor of Sheldon with the broomstick. “Stop! Put him inside, but not in the trunk.” I repeated that until it got through, then ordered them to climb in and shut the door. We had to get clear and fast. The two men in the train station would set the law on their four attackers when they woke up. Waterview cops would notice a truck with Ohio plates and check it.
Then I hoisted into the cab, pushed the stick and purse at Katie, and fumbled for the key. The last driver had thoughtfully or—being unable to think—thoughtlessly left it in the ignition.
I found the starter, then coordinated things until the motor rumbled alive. The gears were just bigger than I was used to; we jerked into first and rolled south on Route 23, heading for Cheboygan, about six miles away.
“What’ll we do if someone catches us?” Katie asked.
“They won’t.” I shifted again and floored it. The truck was almost new. Trust Duvert to help himself to the best. We shot down the road at fifty, then fifty-five. I liked Cheboygan; I liked saying the name and did so, repeating it like a chant. This was great, nothing but tall trees on the right, Lake Huron on the left, and clean night air.
“What about Cheboygan?” Katie demanded, her voice high over the roar of the motor.
“Bigger town, easier to hide in.”
It had been a few years since I’d played there. I wouldn’t remember much; all I’d have seen would have been the stage, the hotel, and cheap eateries, but every town had places where a truck could park unnoticed until sunrise. With Duvert safely dead for the day, I’d call my friend in Chicago. Heck, I could probably drive there; this wasn’t so hard.
Icy gray fog flooded the cab.
Duvert materialized between us.
He damned near broke my foot slamming his own on the brake pedal. He shoved me from the steering wheel. It was like being swatted by a giant, he was that strong. I cracked my head against the window and saw sparks.
Katie screamed and screamed, but none of it impressed Duvert. He quickly and efficiently brought us to a halt and cut the motor. She ran out of voice, falling silent except for trying to catch her breath. I couldn’t move. Too stunned.
Duvert’s good-looking face loomed into view. This close all I saw was his nose going in and out of focus. There’s a reason why I close my eyes when I kiss.
He reached around me and opened the door. I tried not to fall out, feebly grabbing at anything, slowing the drop to a woozy slither. I sat hard on damp pavement, rubbery legs every which way, my back to the truck’s muddy running board. Duvert dropped lightly next to me, bent, and looked me straight in the eye.
“Sleep, you dirty little trollop,” he ordered. “You will sleep .”
My lids shut all on their own, but I didn’t go out. My head hurt too badly to be bothered, though Jack’s blood in me had something to do with it.
It was too much for Katie. She’d been so brave, but her only friend was down for the count. She began making that awful toy machine gun hiccuping. In another second she’d cut loose, but all the tears in the world wouldn’t save her from the handsome vampire here on the side of the road by the dark, dark woods.
“Be quiet,” he snarled.