As it turned out, I needed every bit of breath I could draw.
Oh, the lessons in the backyard went well enough, even if the ground was still wet and spongy from the tropical storm deluge on Tuesday. I used vamp hearing to be sure Hugh and Selma Lister were really asleep. Judging by the snores I detected coming from two bedrooms, my neighbors were out cold. So was everyone else on the block except for the woman with a new baby who lived on the street behind us.
This night’s flying lesson went a little better than the last one, and Jo-Jo praised my progress. I still couldn’t get the hang of a walking takeoff, but I levitated a few inches higher than before.
I’d just started jump-and-hover practice and was a new personal best of three feet off the ground, when Triton’s voice screamed in my head.
Hit the ground. Now!
Focus shattered. Breath stopped. Time warped.
I fell, my legs folding on impact, and a bullet zinged through the air where I had just hovered to hit the still rain-soaked yard with a spit.
“Sniper! Move!” Saber yelled, his Glock in his hand faster than I could see him draw. Sluggish with shock, I rolled toward the corner of Maggie’s house.
Phfft, spit, phfft, spit.
Second and third shots whizzed close to my head, as Saber fired rounds into the oak tree in Maggie’s front yard, directly over the gate. The acrid smell of gunshots hung in the air.
Then silence.
One beat. Two.
I lay in the dewy grass, trembling with reaction, afraid to move, afraid to stay in the open.
“Cesca,” Saber hissed. “Are you hit?”
I looked up to see him shove Jo-Jo toward my cottage, then duck behind the tiki bar. I also watched lights blink on at every neighbor’s house. My mouth was too dry to speak, so I shook my head.
“The shooter may circle around. Run for it while I cover you.”
I pushed to a crouch, determined that my trembling limbs would hold me. When Saber nodded, I tore across the yard fast enough to leave a contrail and dove through the door Jo-Jo held open. Saber tumbled in behind me. While Jo-Jo huddled on the floor, wild-eyed, Saber grabbed me. I clung to him, shaking so hard I bit my tongue. Then I heard Hugh Lister cursing. Oddly, that bit of normalcy calmed me.
Sirens wailed closer, and the house phone rang.
“Answer it, but stay low,” Saber said.
“What the hell is going on?” Neil snapped as soon as I said hello.
“Someone shot at us. Saber said it’s a sniper.”
“Where, for God’s sake?”
“The huge oak on the gate side of the front yard.”
“I’ll take a look out the windows while you talk to Mags.”
“Is anyone hurt?” That’s Maggie, cutting to the chase.
I willed my voice to be steady and matter-of-fact. No point in worrying her. I was spooked enough for both of us.
“No one’s hurt. Don’t tell Neil, but Jo-Jo was giving me another flying lesson when it happened.”
“Any threats from Gorman lately?”
“Yeah, I saw him Tuesday night after my tour, but I don’t think it’s him.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t smell garlic and jalape?o breath on the wind.”
“You didn’t sense this coming at all, did you?”
“No.” I was seriously freaked about that.
“Be sure to tell the cops about Gorman, and, honey, keep up those flight lessons. Sounds like you might need ’em.”
I didn’t bother to tell Maggie it was falling that saved me, not flying.
The St. Augustine police were on the scene for an hour and recovered three .22-caliber slugs that had been imbedded in the grass. Silver slugs. Made for a vampire, but effective on any old body.
Teams of police persons spread through the neighborhood taking statements. One cop questioned Maggie and Neil, and another talked to Hugh and Selma Lister. Oh, yes, Hugh had barged through the jasmine hedge in a rage, ready to burn us out there and then, and damn the arson charge. Well, burn me out anyway. Maggie might’ve gotten off the hook because Hugh didn’t seem to want to mess with Neil.
Maggie hugged me when the cops dismissed her. Neil just glared. Then the cops questioned us again about what we’d been doing in the yard. Saber said we were saying good night to Jo-Jo. When asked if we had any enemies, the answers took longer. I mentioned Gorman but didn’t for a minute think he’d taken the potshot. For starters, he wasn’t a young, nimble man. I couldn’t
see him climbing the oak tree, much less getting away. Still, I knew the cops would roust him from bed and check the arsenal they knew he owned.
Jo-Jo mentioned Vlad, but what were the city cops to do about an ancient vamp in Atlanta? Nada. Saber mentioned the problems in Daytona, but Ike wouldn’t be caught dead in a tree, and I couldn’t see him sending a hit-vamp after me. Now, Laurel? I wouldn’t put a thing past her, but Ike had her on domestic drudge duty, and it hadn’t sounded like he was releasing her from punishment anytime soon.
So who was the sniper?
Where was Pandora?