Chapter 24 #2
And I don’t have the bandwidth for another mental debate. Not when there are still seven more pairs of pins to go. I let out a long exhale, sending whatever beef I have with Collin out with it.
As we work to get the next pair shoved back, I can’t help noticing how silent the room has become.
It makes sense that Rafa would be quiet.
He knows what I’m doing is delicate, and he’s basically holding his breath as he aims the beam of his flashlight at the keyway.
But there are thirteen other people around us.
Young people who’ve been through hell. They must have heard that we’ll only have time to rescue two more of them.
Maybe they wouldn’t beg for their lives, but still, you’d expect them to make some noise.
But they’re now just staring out of their cells, saying nothing.
I follow the redheaded boy’s gaze toward the door. That’s where these teens are focused. Their bodies are tight as bowstrings. Even Emma, who is gaping over my head as I kneel on hard stone in front of the lock. They’re worried about something coming.
Maybe Rafa has the same thought. He sees where I’m looking, grabs the night-vision specs from his pack, gives me a quick nod, and moves toward the door to the hallway. He leaves his flashlight propped up on his pack, aimed at the lock. He glances outside but then shakes his head. Nothing to see.
He softly closes the door behind himself, then removes his mobile from an inside duster pocket and starts taking pictures of the kids in the cells. He doesn’t use the flash, but the phone looks new enough that it should capture well enough in low light. I shoot him a questioning look.
“Evidence,” he says. “Evidence others can’t deny, no matter how cowardly they are.” He shifts uncomfortably as he positions himself for a shot of two cells. I don’t think he likes just standing around.
“Good idea,” I respond. Then I turn back to the cell. “You doing okay there, Emma?”
At hearing her name, she looks down at me. “Mm-hm,” she says, voice tight, clearly not wanting to make much sound. She might also be too weak to talk. Who knows when these kids last ate, let alone how much blood they lost?
I return my attention to finagling those pin stacks into place. Still six more to go. Ticktock, Alvin!
As I make my way through the next two pairs of stacks, I realize it isn’t just the augmented reality visuals or even Collin’s huggy, hands-on guidance that’s helping me do this impossible task.
Somehow, he’s making my senses sharper. Or, at least, making me more aware of my own natural abilities—which is kinda cool.
(Yet another super-power I didn’t even know I had!) The tips of my fingers manipulating the thin metal now sense the subtlest vibration, the nerve endings almost raw with awareness.
My hearing has sharpened to the point where I can detect the most faint click, the slightest misaligned scrape against the internal cylinder.
And that’s how I hear the hum of an elevator descending from all the way down the hall, even before Collin speaks.
“Alvin, someone’s coming down…”
I quickly jerk my head toward the entrance. Rafa closed the door behind himself, but it isn’t flush with the floor. If it’s a paranormal who shows up, they’ll have night vision—and underground, with no windows to the outside, any light will draw attention like a flare.
“Kill the beam,” I whisper. “Spirits say elevator’s on its way.”
I expect Rafa to protest, since it would put me into pitch dark and there’s only one set of night-vision goggles. But he strides over without hesitation and switches off the flashlight.
A frightened whimper rises up among some of the kids, but they quickly hush.
Rafa returns to the door, peering back at me through the lenses wrapped around his head. They glow faintly green in my demon sight. He doesn’t seem at all surprised when I reflexively (and stupidly) share a nod with him after our gaze locks.
Hopefully he thinks I have some kind of night-vision spell.
Whatever. I don’t have time to worry about it. I have to keep going. I can’t keep letting myself get distracted! We have to get at least one of these kids out!
As I smoothly slide in the next stack pair, I hear the elevator doors open and close.
Then, a series of soft little taps, perfectly spaced apart in time—tip, tip, tip, tip—like a metronome wrapped in velvet, threading through the background, subtly getting louder.
It’s inhumanly precise, so it takes me a moment to realize they’re footsteps.
“Jaysus, Alvin,” Collin says. “It’s a vampire. And it’s coming right for us.”
I turn back to Rafa and mouth “vampire” as obviously as I can. To his credit, he doesn’t startle, even a little. He just gives me another head nod, removes one of the stakes from his belt, and takes a position just to the side of the door.
Everyone in the room is dead silent.
Except for their breathing. And heartbeats.
And little involuntary shifts, clothing rubbing against itself, along with a million other things I can totally hear.
If I pay attention, I can tell the difference between Rafa’s pulse and everyone else’s.
It’s thicker, stronger somehow. I can take in all of that—and I’ve just been aware of my enhanced paranormal senses for a few minutes.
A vampire could potentially have centuries to practice.
The velvet tip, tip, tip continues, then stops for an excruciating moment halfway down the hall.
Then the footsteps become a run. Toward us.
Rafa must catch my frightened expression because his body tenses and his lips become a grim, murderous line. He pulls back the stake in his right fist to his shoulder.
Then WHOOSH! The door rips open and a gray suit with claws and fangs flings itself into the room in a blur.
Rafa is on the creature instantly, grabbing its neck and stabbing down hard with the sharp wood.
But the vampire is so fast, the weapon just brushes past the monster’s shoulder, and they both go tumbling down, carried by momentum.
Hunter and vampire now roll on the floor in the center of the room, twisting back and forth furiously as Rafa tries to get on top to pin the monster in place.
Both of the wooden chairs get slammed. (One even gets kicked in the air—I’m not sure by who—and it smashes into the bars on the next cell.
A tall girl with long, stringy black hair flinches and stumbles back to her cot.) (She doesn’t scream, though!)
The vampire is hissing like an angry cat.
Rafa just seems to growl. It’s an incredible racket, and I’m afraid they’re going to crash into me at any minute.
Obviously, I can’t focus on the lock. All I can do is stare over my shoulder and hold the tension in the cylinder so when Rafa does get the upper hand, I won’t lose any of the progress I made.
(There are only a few more stacks to go!)
Luckily, my faith in the Monster Hunter is not misplaced.
It doesn’t even take long. He’s strong enough that once the chairs are out of the way, he’s able to twist his full weight on top of the vampire and pin both the creature’s arms above its head with one hand.
Then in a flash, he raises his sharp wooden stake with the other, bicep flaring with force.
The vamp can do nothing but look up in terror. It’s over.
Until it isn’t. Because Rafa freezes, staring down, eyes wide.
For a hot second, I wonder if he’s somehow been hypnotized or charmed or something. I don’t know enough about vampires to rule it out.
The Hunter’s eyes aren’t vacant, though. Instead, they soften with confusion and recognition—and his voice comes out in a strangled rasp.
“Dad?”
Uh, what the what now?!
The vampire smiles, fangs hidden. “Rafa. Thank God you’re here. You’ve saved me.”
His expression is warm. Grateful. Trustworthy. Fatherly.
And, of course, complete bullshit. It has to be.
“Rafa! Don’t trust him!” I cry out, as quickly as I can.
I’m desperate for him to hear me. And he does. He looks to me, confused, distraught, distracted. And that’s all the creature needs.
As a Monster Hunter, Rafa is stronger than an ordinary human and he’s got mad skills.
But a vampire can have the strength of up to ten men and the speed of a hungry cobra.
With a furious burst, it twists its torso, spinning Rafa onto his back and freeing its arms. And then before the Hunter can react, the creature hammers his forehead with the base of its palm, twice. Rafa slumps to the floor, out cold.
I stare, jaw loose, shoulders twisted around, as the vampire smoothly rises to its feet. It coolly peers down at Rafa, while it casually brushes an errant wrinkle out of its silky jacket with the back of its fingers. I’m still holding tension in the keyway with the tools.
Collin’s voice is right up to my ear, and he sounds scared. “Alvin, let go of the lock. We’re in trouble.”
You think?