“Keep the cell on, Jackie. We can use the light to see with.”
She began to walk toward him, but a thunderous boom shook the house, knocking her down the last three steps to the floor.
Floating through the foul air, Drake’s voice quietly taunted. “Speed, dear boy. Once again, you have gone for the rescue over the kill. I’d hoped just this once you would give in on that choice, but it seems you will be stubborn to the end. I am still the gentleman, however, and have given you one last chance. Figure it out, and perhaps we shall dance again. You are too predictable, my friend. Good-bye. I shall see you on the other side.”
Drake’s laughter faded into the smoky darkness.
“There has to be another door out of here,” Jackie said.
There should be, and odds were it was securely sealed like the other one. “There should be windows though,” Nick answered. “Painted over, maybe. If they’re big enough we might be able to push the girl through.”
“Okay,” she said, moving over to a wall and stumbling over something metal on the floor. “Ow! Goddamnit.” Her voice had a tinge of panic to it, and Nick could hardly blame her for that one. Trapped in a burning building was not high on his choices of ways to go.
Smoke was beginning to thicken in the air. Another boom, and there came the sound of something crashing on the floor above. The second-floor ceiling perhaps? If they had looked upstairs first, they might have found whatever materials Drake had situated to take the house down.
Carrying the girl in one arm, Nick felt his way along the back wall, lined with stainless-steel counters and cupboards. There had been a full-sized door for something over on this end of the room.
“Hey, I found a window!” Jackie called out. “And it’s maybe six inches wide. We’ll never get her through this, Nick.”
“Okay,” he said, finally finding the door that had been to the left of the stairs and across the room from the foot of the cadaver table. “Office or storage room here. Maybe an extinguisher inside.” Not that it would do them a lot of good in the end. It might buy them a minute or two. Holding the girl, Nick kicked the door in and was greeted by a shimmering wall of heat and bright flame. He turned his back to the fire to protect the girl. “Christ. The ceiling is down in here.”
That meant the first floor was already engulfed in flames—likely began the moment they came downstairs. They needed that basement door opened. It was only a six-foot span across to the back door through the mudroom. Even with the house on fire, they could make that leap without dying. Probably. Jackie had the same thought.
“Gamble! We need that basement door unlocked, or you’re going to have a very crispy agent down here.” She coughed several times against the thickening smoke. “Yeah, I realize the place looks like an inferno, but we’re dead if it doesn’t get open. Got it?”
To emphasize her point, another explosion shook the house, and this time part of the ceiling did collapse, bringing down a pile of flaming furniture from the sitting room. It narrowly missed Jackie, and she jumped back, a short scream escaping her lips. “Oh, my God. Nick! Any brilliant ideas?”
The fire lit up the room, allowing them to see at least, and Nick saw one last door past the office. It was large and metallic, with a handle much like one might find on an upright freezer. “Come on. In here,” he said, pointing at the cadaver fridge. “It might buy us some time.”
“That’s crazy. We’ll cook in there.”
“The floor is going to fall on us out here, Jackie. Move it.”
Nick ran over to the door and pulled the handle open. Even with the power off, the room inside was still cool relative to the rest of the basement. Once inside, Jackie was hesitant to shut the door all the way.
“Jackie. It’s forty degrees in here. Close the door.”
“But . . . Nick, it’ll be a goddamn oven.”
“It will be, but it gives us the most time.”
“Shit.” She pulled the latch shut, and they were closed inside. “Let’s hope they put out the fire before it can cook us.”
Nick gently laid the girl down on the floor, squatting beside her. He took off his hat and set it down over the wide, staring, and empty eyes. “Yeah, let’s hope.”
“Oh, no. Damnit, no!”
He could see that courage and determination, the desire to rescue the girl, which had been driving Jackie past the fear of everything else, slowly evaporate from her gaze. Nick rubbed a hand over his scalp. “I wish you’d have stayed outside, Jackie.”
She did not respond. Jackie was staring over the top of his head at the back of the freezer. Nick turned and realized the open-mouthed silence had nothing to do with the death of the girl. Oozing her way through the small ventilation grate in back of the ceiling was the faded, distorted form of Laurel.
Chapter 53
Oh, my God. Why is she here? We’re about to fucking die, that’s why.
Laurel’s ghostly image barely made itself present, a poorly lit hologram of her friend. She bent down immediately and passed her hand through the body of the young girl, a frown stretching the dark lines of her mouth. When she spoke, her voice sounded like it came from the end of a long tunnel.
“Nick,” she said, her words spaced out with apparent effort, “you must come. We need you.”
He stood up, hands thrust into his pockets. “We’re trapped here, Laurel.”
“Nick. You know how.”
“No!” he answered abruptly. In the dead silence of the freezer, it made Jackie’s stomach jump.
“Laur, can you help us?” She had no idea what a ghost could do for them, but maybe she knew something they did not. “Nick? What’s going on?”
Laurel’s foggy image faded to almost nothing for a moment but then sprang back with brief, brilliant intensity. “You must!” Her finger jabbed out at Nick, and she watched him take a hesitant step backward.
She could not see his face, but a second later, his shoulders visibly sagged. “I can’t do that, Ms. Carpenter. There must be another way.”
Her head shook. “No time. I’ll help, but hurry.”
Jackie tapped Nick on the shoulder, and he whirled around on her, startled. For the first time, she saw something she didn’t think possible in those depthless eyes. He looked afraid, which was the last thing Jackie needed to reassure her fraying nerves.
“Care to explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
Nick dropped back to his knees, reaching out to lift the hat and brush a strand of hair off the little girl’s face. “Blood. It’s all about blood.”
Something stung Jackie’s eye, and she reached up to realize it was sweat. Looking behind her on the wall by the door, the thermostat already read seventy-eight degrees. “Blood. What’s blood got do with our current situation?”
Nick stood up, moving with the effort of an old man. His face had gone into that unreadable zone again, except perhaps a droop in his eyes. Sadness? Haunted? Regardless, not a look Jackie was going for, under the circumstances.
“Laurel wants me to take us over.”
“Over where? Outside?”
“No, Jackie. Over to the other side. Deadworld.”
Jackie glanced over at Laurel. Was she out of her mind? The look she gave Jackie brought a lump to her throat.
“Please, hon. Be brave. It’s your only chance.”
“Don’t we sort of have to be . . . dead for that?”
“No,” Nick said. “Drake has been doing it, so presumably I can do it as well.”
“I’m no vampire though,” Jackie replied. Her mind was still trying to wrap around the notion of going to the “other” side. What did that mean exactly? It was an apples-and-oranges arrangement. Then again, Laurel’s ghost was standing here in front of her. The dead could walk among the living.
He gave her a reluctant shrug. “Technically, that shouldn’t matter.”
Jackie grunted. “Technically. You aren’t sounding too sure of yourself, Sheriff, but it’s now . . . ninety-four degrees in here. We need to try something, so I vote yes for hanging out with Laurel for a while.”
“Jackie, I can’t do it without blood.”
“Okay. Well . . .” The obvious now smacked Jackie square in the gut. He needed
her
blood. “You need some of my blood.”
“I might need a lot of your blood, and even then I have no guarantees anything will work.”
“But Laur thinks it will. She said she will help.”
Laurel nodded behind Nick. “Yes. It can work. It’s the only way.”
She took a deep breath. Laur would never steer her wrong about anything. “If she says go for it, then go for it, Nick. We have to try. And I’ll have you shoot me before I roast to death in here.”
“Jackie,” Nick said, stepping up close to her. He reached up, taking her face in his hands. Compared to the air in the sealed room, they were wonderfully cool. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay with this. I have to drink your blood, and it may kill you.”
“I’m good,” she answered back, trying desperately to actually sound that way. “Are you?”
He licked his lips, prepared to say something, but then Jackie felt herself pulled up to her toes, and Nick’s mouth crushed down against hers. No soft hesitation this time. No pleasant little meeting of the mouths. It was just some heady mix of desperation, need, fear, and desire. After a few seconds he pulled back, but his hands still held her. He smiled. “Better now, thanks. Look at me, Jackie. If you look close enough you might actually see the door to the other side.”
She stared hard into his eyes, wondering. “Really? You can see that?”
“If you know how to look, but I want you to know this won’t hurt much at all, just a bit of weakness, maybe a little light-headedness, and then, hopefully, we’ll be good, and Laurel will help me through this.”
Jackie nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.” The wide doe eyes said different.
“Now, keep your eye on Laurel. Not much else here to look at, and it might soothe your fear a bit.”
Jackie’s voice sounded dreamy, almost far away. “I’m not afraid though.”
Laurel smiled at her. “It won’t take long, hon. You’ll hardly even realize.”
“What happens then?”
“This is kind of a plan-as-you-go scenario. Let’s just get you out of here first.”
There was a dull pain in the crook of her right arm, and then pressure—soft, warm pressure. Out of the corner of her eye, Jackie could see Nick’s head against her elbow. She knew it was happening now, but it all felt so far away. “He did that vampire thing on me again, didn’t he?”
Laurel nodded. “Better that way, sweetie. Just keep watching me, talking to me, and then we’ll go when Nick is ready.”
“I like him, you know.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“And I miss you horribly.”
“I know. I miss you, too.”
“And I still love you, Laur. Really, but just . . . well, not like you wanted me to. I’m sorry.”
“Hush. You can’t be sorry about that.”
Tears spilled down Jackie’s cheeks, feeling distant and far, like she was watching someone else cry. A part of her knew it was Nick’s doing, hypnotizing her, and, sadly, she had trusted him without hesitation. How embarrassing was that? They were tears of remorse, regret, and terror. Whatever might happen next, at the moment she was dying, her blood draining into Nick’s suckling mouth.
“God, I’m scared, Laur. I don’t want to die. Fuck, this really sucks.” Laurel’s image swam in her view, two, then three of her dancing across the back of the freezer. Her elbow began to ache, and she could feel the blood in her body ebbing toward Nick’s drinking mouth, drawn like a pool of liquid iron to a magnet. “Nick! Please make this work. Please, please, please don’t let me die like this.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Laurel’s voice cooed in her ear. “Hang in there a little longer. We’re almost ready.”
“Laur? I can’t see you!”
“Shhhh. All done, sweetie. Rest now. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Jackie sank to her knees, head lolling over against Nick’s shoulder, a chaotic jumble of thoughts pouring through her head, as they are wont to do when death encroaches. Most were full of anger and regret, but not of dying. Her life had not been what she wanted, consumed with pursuing demons she could not catch, filled with a need for revenge over losing something she had never really had. Ironic that Laurel had been there all those years, ready to give it, and Jackie had been oblivious, and even if she had leaned in that direction, the fear of herself would have kept her silent. Who would love her if they were really let in?
Goddamnit. I want another shot. God, Goddess, or whoever the fuck you are. If you give a shit about my sorry ass, please get me back alive. I can do better, I swear. I . . . I . . . Wow, Nick really smells good.
A warm blanket of darkness swaddled her in the blessed relief of nothingness.
Chapter 54
Nick blinked away the tears. He had managed to stay focused on his own feelings until Jackie’s panicky fear peaked. Why did something so despicable have to feel so damn good? He was sucking the life from this woman, and all he could think about was how sweet she tasted. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he had kept those images mostly stuffed into the background. He had wallowed in that kind of thing before, but at least whatever shreds of willpower he had could keep those thoughts at bay. Finally, Jackie’s pleas faded into unconsciousness, and she slumped forward. Nick eased her to the floor, his mouth still buried against her arm.
Laurel pushed and nudged at him, her cold, ethereal hands caressing his hair, rubbing at his temples. “Goddess be damned, Nick. Quit resisting so hard. Let me in.”
“Hmmm?” It was all he could manage to say in response without lifting his mouth free from Jackie. It was difficult to hear her over the growing howl of the wind coming from the other side. The sound existed only in his head, but it was real nonetheless, a bitter, icy chill that came along with the incredible surge of power that filled his body.
“Relax, you stupid cowboy. Focus on the good things. Shelby told me how real blood makes you feel, so let go of the guilt for two seconds so I can get in.”
Get in. Why does she need to do that? And how the hell can anyone relax while drinking blood from anyone? Focus on the good things. I’m not a savage. I’m not a loathsome animal. Focus on good things. The sweet taste of Jackie’s skin. How wonderful it would be to be inside her, kissing the crook of her elbow instead of sucking upon it.
“There,” her voice said from within his head now. “Was that so hard? Okay, get us through, Nick. We need to hurry. I’m going to amplify your power to open the door. Nick? Stop drinking! She’s going into shock.”
He pulled his mouth away, clamping his hand over the open knife wound. Sweat was dripping down his face from the heat inside the freezer. “Is it going to be enough?”
“Let’s find out,” she said. “And hurry. This is very difficult for me, too.”
Nick picked up Jackie, holding her tightly against him, and let the natural order of things follow, the order he had interrupted so many years ago in order to get his revenge. Now, ironically enough, he was letting it all go. The door yawned open, wider and wider, the breath of the dead blowing him through, but Jackie was not coming, not just yet, as she had not reached that brink, and Nick could feel her body slowly slipping from his grip.
“Laurel. Now would be a good time to kick it up a notch.” Nick dug his fingers into Jackie, clenching as hard as he could. She was not ready yet, and he didn’t have the force to get her through.
“Imagine a safe place, Nick. A safe place to take Jackie.”
His home was the only place he would take her. It was the only place he felt might be remotely defensible against Drake. “I can’t hold her much longer here, Ms. Carpenter.” Despite the strength of his grip, Jackie was slowly beginning to pull away. Even as close as she was to death. That little bit of life was enough to offset the pull of the dead.
Then Laurel’s whispering voice grew inside his head, slowly overtaking the howl of Deadworld. She was chanting, and Nick could not make out the words, or they were in a language he didn’t understand, but just like she had claimed, the door stretched itself, becoming more elastic, the louder her voice became.
Home. Take us home.
They broke free of that boundary, falling into the black void between the world of the living and that of the dead, a cold so intense Nick felt sure his bones would splinter apart into a million icy shards.
Take us home. Make her safe, please, God, if you exist and are there at all, get her through this. I beg of you.
The blackness began to fade into gray, a substanceless fog that gave Nick no sense of location. The howling wind of the doorway had faded, and it was now eerily quiet. There was the faintest whispering in the background. “Laurel?”
“Shhhh,” came the reply still echoing around inside his head. “Home. Keeping thinking of home. Almost there.”
Nick did his best to keep the images of his house fresh, the piano loft where he spent so many hours of his recent life, and where Jackie had felt compelled to kiss him. He desperately wanted a chance to do that again. “Trying.”
“Shhhh. No talking. They’ll hear you.”
She went back to her quiet chanting, and Nick wondered what she was talking about, but the whispers grew louder then, becoming nearly discernible voices. They were angry voices and many, but the words were jumbled, except for one, which he could make out because it was louder than all the rest. “Vampire.”
Laurel’s voice took on a fearful edge, the chanting becoming more frantic, and Nick took the cue and zeroed in on his house, the living room sofa, a fire, Jackie there, alive and healthy, sipping on a cup of the nuclear coffee he had made. Safe, comfortable, and home.
Something pushed at Nick’s back, and for a split second he panicked, thinking perhaps that crowd of voices was upon them, but then it took on more substance and feel, pressing against his back and legs, and Jackie’s body took on more weight against him as the gray fog dissipated into a serene background wash of color over everything. He was sitting on the sofa in his living room before his stone fireplace. It was a washed-out version of it, but his house nonetheless.
Resting against his chest, Jackie’s pale, bluish lips appeared to be kissing his shirt. Nick shifted and turned, easing her cold body down on the cushions, and pressed a pair of fingers against the soft flesh of her throat. For a moment, panic fluttered through his stomach, but then he felt her pulse, weak but still there. They had made it for now, but how long did Jackie really have?