She gasped and shut down, probably staring at him.
“What the devil did you do to your hair?” he demanded. “You’re ugly now, and after I made you so beautiful—”
“Shut up,” she said in the steely tone she used when talking about becoming a widow. “You just … shut up .”
He thought that funny to judge by his brief laugh. “You’re not the first to show a little spirit, sweet Katherine. I’ll bring you around. I like my girls calm and quiet. Keeps them prettier longer.”
“Who cares what you want, you—you four-flushing dewdropper.” She put enough acid into the borrowed slang to make it sound like real cursing.
Atta girl, I thought, trying to think of options. I was in no shape to run and hide in the woods. He’d spot me, night was day to him. But across the road—yup, Lake Huron. Miles and miles of it stretching into a black forever. He couldn’t come after me. Vampires and free-flowing water don’t mix. I could outswim his helpers.
It would leave Katie in a tough spot, but I had to look after myself in order to come back to fight another night.
All I had to do was get clear until dawn. If his hypnotized gang drove them back to Ohio, so be it. I’d find a way to follow. Thinking about killing no longer made me sick. For him, I’d do it with a grin.
He wasn’t done scolding Katie. “What have you been doing all this time? Dancing onstage like a drunken harlot? How many men did you let—”
The flat, businesslike crack of my Detective Special interrupted his ego. She’d found it in my purse. Oh, good girl.
It cracked again. Duvert staggered, looking surprised at two spreading patches of blood in the center of his chest. Point-blank range made it easy for her. She fired a third round, hitting his shoulder. Lead wouldn’t kill him, but it did hurt like hell.
He vanished. An agitated gray maelstrom spun in the air where his body had been.
Seconds, just seconds before, he returned. He’d come back, healed and hungry.
I lurched up, determined not to be his first-aid nurse. Blood hammered the top of my skull. My damned eyelids did not want to stay open. I leaned into the cab. Katie was backed against the passenger side, my gun in her shaking hands.
The broomstick was on the floor, within reach. I yanked it clear and turned toward him. The grayness was beginning to thicken as he eased back to solidity.
I sagged, dizzy and sick, no strength in my arms. I was barely able to hold the damned stick, much less knock him silly with it.
Katie, I need help, I tried to say, but weird mumbling drivel spilled out instead.
He was halfway back, taking his time. You could see through him. He waved tauntingly at Katie, and she wasted the last three bullets. They zinged harmlessly through his ghostlike form. He went back to being a gray cloud.
It drifted toward the truck cab, oozing inside. She moaned disgust as the chill grayness covered her. He’d re-form on top of her, perhaps to feed, and drain her into a blood-exhausted stupor.
I reeled toward them, leading with that broomstick, hoping to buy time until I could recover enough to do him real damage.
He went for another instant materialization. I stabbed in just before he was fully solid—then, oh my God, the shriek he gave knocked me right over.
The wood skewered him in midchest, front and back, like a pinned bug. He screamed and roared and clawed at the makeshift spear, finally falling from the truck. He slammed hard on the pavement, thrashing violently, trying to pull the thing out, but he’d re-formed right around it, and it was firmly stuck.
And wood kept him from vanishing.
Strangely, there was no blood. Just as well, this was bad enough.
But he might force it out … yeah, he was trying to do just that, lifting up and dropping on his back. He howled each time, but it pushed a few inches of wood along, and he was desperately pulling with his hands.