Rafaela
woke with a start, a scream forming on her lips. She looked around
the darkened room and saw no sign of Dirk. She had expected that.
What she didn't know was Dirk's motive. Had he set her up from the
beginning—used her in a power play between himself and this vampire
lord? It wouldn't surprise her to find out that he had. Though he
loved her, it was his nature to use those around him for his own
purposes. He'd never done anything quite that underhanded, but she'd
been a player in his games before. Never one to be a pawn, she'd made
it clear that she wouldn't be played again.
She
gathered her things and left the room key on the dresser. Overnight
bag in hand, she descended the stairs by the far stairway. She and
Dirk always parked well away from their room. It might slow an
escape, but it also slowed those who were tracking them. She circled
the upstairs before heading down the stairway. She didn't sense
anyone as she walked purposefully toward the anonymous, brown Ford,
so when the attack came, it was completely unexpected.
Three
vampires appeared out of the shadows and circled the car. These
weren't newbies either. These had the look of an elite
branch—probably the vampire lord's top warriors.
Thanks
a lot, Dirk. I owe you a scourging—If I live.
The
vampires tightened their circle, drawing near, fangs bared. Rafaela
reached for her weapons, smiling ruefully.
"Only
three? I think I'm insulted. Your boss is either a fool or
delusional."
"I
assure you, he's neither," the woman nearest her said, dropping
into a crouch. "And who says there are only three?" She
cocked her head to one side.
Rafaela
used her special sensing ability to reach out into the ether. She
released a seeking spell. What she found horrified her. Three were
visible, but a dozen more had her surrounded. She was good, but not
that good. She could probably kill or disable at least six, but
fifteen was another matter.
"Dirk,
you bastard! Where are you?"
The
vampires frowned. The woman who had spoken to her took a step back.
"He's
not here?"
They
glared at one another, uncertain. Rafaela noted their discomfort.
What the hell was going on? She reassessed the vampires. By this
time, they would have attacked. Instead, they stood around
uncertainly, waiting for something.
"Can
we get this over with?" Rafaela asked flippantly. "I have a
lot to do. I promised myself a manicure." She flickered her
fingers absently, as if showing off her nails.
The
vampires were momentarily distracted by the movement. Their dark eyes
focused on Rafaela's left hand, while her right reached under her
jacket. They might be able to handle sunlight in small doses, but she
was certain a flash grenade wouldn't be so easy withstand. Slipping
the ring, she put her other hand on the car door and pulled it
partially open. Dropping the grenade, she kicked it toward the lead
woman. Counting down the seconds, she hopped in her car, shutting the
door as she ducked. The flash grenade wouldn't hurt her, but the
bright white light would be dazzling.
Seconds
later, the grenade went off. Blinding light illuminated their
surroundings. The vampires screamed as the light jarred their senses
and seared their skin. Rafaela backed her car out of the parking
spot, knocking over at least one vampire as she did. Another fell
when she ran it down. A second grenade flew out the window as the
vampires tried to regroup and pursue. This one caught them out in the
open, not partially shielded by the cars. More screaming followed.
Gunning
the motor, she headed for the interstate, taking the curving entrance
at top speed. Oncoming traffic barely had time to move out of her
way. Instead of waiting, she tore off down the shoulder, tires
squealing on the uneven pavement. There were no signs of pursuit, but
that meant nothing. It would be easy for them to track her. They had
her scent and the make and model of her vehicle. She had to ditch the
car and find some way to mask her odor.
"Time
to drop off the grid," she muttered, cutting across all three
lanes of traffic.
She
roared down the exit and made a sharp turn onto a narrow, country
road. She didn't know where she was, let alone where she was going,
she kept going south.
"Dammit,
Dirk! Where are you?"
She
stopped at a crossroads, uncertain which way to head. Deep in the
heart of Georgia, she didn't know whether to continue south or strike
out west. She knew she didn't want to go east. There wasn't enough
room to run that direction. Ultimately, there was only so far she
could go to the south, so she turned right and headed west. Just as
the car started to move, a form shimmered next to her and Dirk
appeared on the seat. His own momentum slung him into the back seat,
where he solidified.
Rafaela
slammed on the brakes, grateful that it was late and night and the
road was empty.
"Where
the hell have you been? Do you know what just happened?"
"Drive,"
he muttered. "Drive," he ordered more loudly.
Rafaela
heard the tone of command in his voice, and started driving once
more. She glanced at him in the rearview mirror and saw the state he
was in. He bled from a dozen different wounds, at least one of which
would have been fatal, if he were human. His clothing was torn, his
lips caked with blood.
"What
train wreck did you walk away from?"
Dirk
shook his head, holding his side. Blood seeped through his fingers.
"You
need to feed," she said, slowing the car.
"I
did. Keep driving." The blood from his side, slowed and dribbled
to a stop. "I thought if I could talk to him, I could explain."
"Didn't
go as planned, eh?"
Dirk's
laugh was a bark of pain. "Not entirely."
©
Dellani Oakes 2017
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