Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [181]
Riding vampire minds was a well-paying business. Ghastek, like 90 percent of navigators, worked for the People, a cringe-worthy hybrid of a cult, business corporation, and research facility. I hated the People with a passion, and I hated Roland, the man who led them, even more.
Unfortunately, beggars couldn’t be choosers. “What can I do for you?”
“A loose vampire is heading your way.”
Crap. Only the will of the navigator kept a vampire in check. Without that restraint, an insatiable hunger drove the bloodsuckers to slaughter. A loose vampire would massacre anything it came across. It could kill a dozen people in half a minute. The city would be a bloodbath.
“What do you need?”
“I’m less than twelve miles behind her. I need you to delay her, until I come into range.”
“From which direction?”
“Northwest. And Kate, try not to damage her. She’s expensive ...”
I dropped the phone and dashed outside, bursting into almost painfully cold air. People filled the street—laborers, shoppers, random passersby hurrying home. Food to be slaughtered. I sucked in a lungful of cold and screamed. “Vampire! Loose vampire! Run!”
For a fraction of a second nothing happened, and then people scattered like fish before a shark. In a breath I was alone.
A thick chain lay coiled on the side of the building. I used it to block my parking lot at night so weirdos wouldn’t park there. Perfect.
I ran inside and swiped the keys off the hook on the wall.
Two seconds to the parking lot.
A second to unlock the padlock securing the chain.
Too slow. I ran, dragging the chain behind me, and dropped it before an old tree.
Three seconds to loop the chain around the trunk and work the other end into a slip knot.
I needed blood to bait the vamp. Lots and lots of blood.
A team of oxen turned the corner. I ran at them, pulling a throwing knife . The driver, an older Latino man, stared at me. His hand reached for a rifle lying on the seat next to him.
“Get off! Loose vampire!”
He scrambled out of the cart. I sliced a long shallow gash down the ox’s flank. It bellowed. Blood dripped on the ground. I ran my hand along the cut. It came off wet with hot crimson, and I waved it, flinging red drops into the wind.
The ox moaned. I grabbed the chain loop.
An emaciated shape leapt off the rooftop. Ropes of muscle knotted its frame under skin so tight that every ligament and vein stood out beneath it. The vampire landed on the pavement on all fours, skidded, its long sickle claws scraping the asphalt with a screech, and whirled. Ruby eyes glared at me from a horrible face. Massive jaws gaped open, showing sharp fangs, bone white against the black mouth.
The vampire charged.
It all but flew above the ground with preternatural speed, straight at the ox, pulled by the intoxicating scent of blood.
I thrust myself into its path, my heartbeat impossibly slow in my ears.
The vamp’s eyes fixed on my bloody hand. I’d have only one shot at this.
The vampire leaped, covering the few feet between us. It flew, limbs out, claws raised for the kill.
I thrust the chain loop up and over its head.
Its body hit me. The impact knocked me off my feet. I crashed to the ground and rolled upright. The vamp lunged at me. The chain snapped taut on its throat, jerking it off the pavement. The bloodsucker fell and sprang up again, twisting and jerking on the end of the chain like a feral cat caught in a dog catcher’s leash.
The ox bellowed in pain. I breathed, short and shallow.
The vampire flipped and lunged in the ox’s direction. The tree shook and groaned. Blood spurted from under the chain on its neck. Either it would snap the tree or the chain would slice