It was all Clara could do to be still as the warden went to the sofa and grabbed the blond prisoner. She was dragged up to her feet and pushed forward. The warden tripped the girl until she was kneeling next to the coffin, her head bowed. Her hair fell forward, exposing the nape of her neck from the hairline down to the loose collar of her jumpsuit.
Malvern struck like a snake. She might be slow and stiff, but where there was blood involved, there was always a way. Her broken fangs sank effortlessly through the flesh at the back of the prisoner’s neck, grating on the thick bones of her spinal column. The prisoner screamed and shook, tried to break free, tried to buck the vampire off her back, but Malvern’s fangs had a death grip on her, like a wolf’s jaws squeezing shut around the throat of a caribou. Malvern wrapped one spindly arm around the prisoner’s waist and pulled her close. That arm should have snapped like a twig, but instead it seemed to possess the strength of an iron bar. It stopped the prisoner’s convulsions and stilled her screaming as Malvern crushed her lungs and squeezed all the air out of her.
In a minute it was done. Malvern dropped the corpse to the floor, having no more use for it. Then she climbed out of the coffin and walked over to the warden. “’Tis a treat, to meet ye at last, my dear,” she said, and leaned in to kiss the warden on the cheek. The warden closed her eyes and sighed as if she were being greeted by a lover after a long separation. “And for you, Miss Hsu, my feelings are none but the warmest.” She came gliding over toward Clara as if she would kiss her as well. Her face loomed toward Clara out of the gloom of the office like a scarred moon. There was a narrow stripe of blood on her chin.
Clara did flinch then. The CO behind her grabbed her into a choke hold, then pinned her hands behind her back with his free hand, immobilizing her.
“Ah, I understand. Ye’ll not find this face a pretty sight, not yet. Well, we’ll change that anon. For now,” Malvern said, standing up a little straighter, “there is my second course to consider.”
The second prisoner on the sofa started to scream, even through her gag.
14.
Thank God,” Caxton said, stepping forward, out of the cell. “I thought he was going to kill me. You saved my life.”
Harelip prodded the half-dead’s headless body with the end of her shotgun. She knelt down next to the corpse and touched its back. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. She sounded like she was a long way away. “I thought it was Murphy I was shooting. I wouldn’t have used lethal force on Murphy, no matter what. I’ve worked with him for seven years.”
“That thing was a vampire’s servant,” Caxton said, trying to explain. “When a vampire kills someone, they can—”
“Murphy was no fucking vampire!” Harelip shouted.
“That’s not what I was trying to say,” Caxton tried, in as soothing a voice as she could.
Harelip turned and looked at the dead bodies on the floor of the SHU, and at the bodies in the cell behind Caxton. Her eyes stopped focusing for a second. Caxton had seen this before: most people, even hardened law-enforcement types, lost their reason for a moment the first time they saw the kind of violence that vampires or even just half-deads could create. Maybe Harelip had seen murder victims before. Maybe she’d seen people stabbed with shanks more times than she could count. But the kind of chaos the half-dead had created was still new for her, and it would take her a while to process it. Caxton just didn’t have the time to let her work through it on her own.
“There will be more of them. They’ll send ten of those things next time. Or the vampire will come herself. You can’t stop a vampire with a beanbag round. We need to get the door closed. We need to lock down this unit. Right now.”
“You giving me orders now?” Harelip demanded.
“No. No, of course not. This is your show.”
Harelip spun around and focused on Caxton. “You lie down on the floor, hands behind your head. We’re going to do this by the book.”
“Listen,” Caxton said. “Your name is Worth, right?”