Nightbred(73)

“That’s the guy Sam found murdered downtown. She said his safe and shop had been cleaned out.” Chris stepped closer. “Did you have him killed? Do you have the emeralds?”

“No. The office safe was purely for show.” Stryker gasped as Jamys tightened his fingers. “Second safe. Hidden under the rug in the front of the store. I swear.”

As Jamys released him, Stryker fell back into the arms of two shrieking girls, and took them down to the floor with him. He stepped over the writhing bodies to grab the two tresori, slamming their heads together hard enough to knock them unconscious before dropping them.

Chris pulled her dress back in place and zipped up the side. “Come on,” she said to Jamys, “before I let you kill him.”





Chapter 15

Halfway between the station and the stronghold traffic suddenly came to a standstill, and when Sam leaned her head out to look ahead, she smelled smoke and blood, and heard shouts from a block away. Using her emergency flashers, she eased out of her lane and drove on the shoulder until she reached the accident at the intersection.

Crumpled front ends conjoined an SUV and a small pickup, which both had air bags deployed. One man with a nose streaming blood was shouting and pounding on the roof of the truck.

Sam parked to one side and ran out in time to keep the angry motorist from trying to drive his fist through the window. “Sir, you need to come away from here.”

“Sonofabitch ran the red. Come outta there, goddamnit.” He tried to jerk his arm from her grip, and then stared at her. “He ran the red.”

“I can see that. Let me get him out.” Sam shed more scent as she pointed to a nearby bus stop bench. “You go sit over there and be quiet.”

The dazed motorist lurched off, and Sam called it in on her mobile as she pried open the truck’s door. The boy inside lay unmoving against the deflating air bag, half a joint still tucked in the corner of his mouth.

“What happened to ‘just say no’?” Sam muttered as she carefully lifted him out of the seat. She carried him across the glass-strewn road to the opposite curb, where she lowered him onto the grass. The air bag had done a number on his chin and the front of his neck, and blood oozing from the friction wounds wet her scarred palm as she felt for the pulse she didn’t find.

“Shit.” She tipped his head back and cleared his airway, trying at the same time to hold back the images pouring into her mind.

“May I be of assistance?” a low voice asked.

Sam looked up blindly at the blond woman. “You know CPR?” When she nodded, she said, “Take over compressions for me.”

As soon as the woman did, Sam stopped fighting the death vision, which dragged time in reverse, hauling her across the intersection and down the road two miles, dropping her behind the steering wheel of the truck.

Sam saw a rawboned hand thumb a lighter and touch the flame to the end of a freshly rolled joint. She smelled the harsh, sweet scent of the marijuana as puffs of smoke billowed up in front of her eyes. The tip of the joint flared as she inhaled, and a seed inside it popped, blowing off the glowing end. She heard a young voice swearing as a hand swatted the burning sensation on the top of her right thigh.

She couldn’t stop the boy from looking down to search for the burning ember, or warn him that the green light he’d just seen had turned yellow. She could only brace herself as the yellow switched to red and he roared into the intersection and collided with the SUV. The impact threw her forward into an explosion of sound and whiteness.

The sound of coughing brought her back to reality, where the boy lay struggling for breath on his side.

The blond woman kneeling behind him made soothing noises as she held his shoulders and smiled at Sam. “He’s breathing again on his own.”

“Thank you.” Sam staggered to her feet, scrubbing her palm against the side of her trousers. “You saved his life.”

“So did you,” the woman said simply.

It took another a minute before the downtown patrols and paramedics arrived at the scene. Sam used the time to check on the other victim, who was still sitting quietly on the bench. “How are you feeling, sir?”

“That kid almost died, didn’t he?” He gave her a dazed look. “I got a fifteen-year-old, just got his restricted permit.” His eyes shifted to the scene across the street. “That could be him.”

She nodded. “Talk to your boy about this. Let him know how it feels.” She touched his shoulder. “And check his pockets occasionally.”

After she gave the details to the patrolmen, Sam walked back to her car. The smell of the blood made her throat dry and her fangs ache, but the last thing she wanted to do was hunt.