Broken (27 page)

Below, Hull had noticed our attention wander. I motioned to Nick, telling him to go after the zombie and leave this one to us. He slipped away. Zoe hesitated and glanced at me for instructions. When I didn’t give any, she followed Nick. The man watched them leave.

“They—they’re still here, aren’t they?” he stammered. “Those…things. Perhaps I should leave this to you—”

“Don’t move,” Clay said.

“We could still meet in the park,” the man said, gaze darting about for the clearest escape route. “Shall we say, dusk? At the north end?”

Clay leapt just as Hull bolted. A second sooner, and he would have landed atop him. As it was, he hit the ground about five feet behind the already running man. As I moved forward to jump down, the toe of my sneaker snagged on an exposed nail. Any other time, that would have just meant an embarrassing stumble and quick recovery as Clay sprinted away, leaving me to catch up. But the moment Clay saw my shadow stutter, he stopped, turning fast, arms going up as if I was about to fall headfirst off the trailer.

“I’m fine!” I said. “Go!”

He hesitated until he saw that I was indeed okay. Then he continued the pursuit, but slowly now, as if my stumble had reminded him where his priorities lay. As the gap between Clay and Hull widened, I knew that the only way we were going to get him is if I caught up—and fast. So I concentrated on forgetting the twenty-pound weight on my gut and the sweat streaming into my eyes.

As I sprinted forward, something jumped from behind a pile of lumber. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught only a furry brown blur, and my brain screamed “wolf.” I backpedaled so fast I tripped and thudded down on my backside, letting out a whimper as I felt the jolt slam through to my stomach. I jerked forward into a semi-seated fetal position, protecting my stomach.

Something hit my shoulder, teeth catching in my shirt. A strangled snarl from Clay. A high-pitched squeal of rage from whatever was clinging to my shoulder, then the thump of flesh hitting wood as it flew off. I caught a whiff of my attacker then, and knew what it was even as I turned to see it lying dead beside a pile of boards.

“A rat?” I said. “In daylight?”

“Elena?” Clay’s voice was oddly quiet, with that same strangled note I’d heard in his snarl. “Don’t move.
Please,
don’t move.”

I started to ask “why?” then realized speaking probably fell under the heading of “moving.” Instead, I moved only my eyes, following Clay’s gaze up to the pile of boards beside me. There, perched on top, were four rats, all staring at me. Their mouths were open, lower incisors revealed. The fur on their foreheads was flattened, their ears rotated forward. They let out short hisses and the occasional squeak. Definitely not a display of welcome.

Clay’s gaze slid to the other side of me, where I remembered seeing a pile of bricks. I couldn’t look that way without moving, but a crosswind brought more rat stink, and I knew I was surrounded by them.

I tried to relax. Reminded myself that as nasty as rats were, even a dozen of them were no match for two werewolves. But the crosswind brought another smell—that smell of disease we’d picked up on the rats in the warehouse.

Diseased rats. Out in the daytime, when rats normally seek shelter. Aggressively confronting, not just a human, but a werewolf.

The rats started to chatter, teeth snapping and grinding, needlelike incisors flashing, eyes blazing with rage, as if the disease had driven them mad and only the faintest shreds of sanity were keeping them from jumping down and ripping into me. As they hissed and squeaked, I could see those sanity shreds stretching thinner, ready to snap.

I didn’t look at Clay, knowing if I did, the panic in my eyes might panic
him
. He was trying to think up a way to get me out of there, and didn’t need any distractions.

“Inch toward me,” Clay said, his voice just above a whisper. “When you’re close enough, I’ll grab your feet and pull you out of the way. Just move very, very slowly.”

Before I could “inch” anywhere, I needed to get my hands on the ground. I hated uncovering my stomach, but there was nothing else I could do to move forward. I started with my left hand, easing it down toward the ground. The largest rat lunged for the edge of the wood pile.

I froze, heart thudding, knowing they’d sense my fear and fighting to control it. The big rat paced along the edge of the pile, as if struggling to resolve warring fight-or-flight impulses. Behind it, the others jostled for position. The sharp scrabbling of claws on wood underscored their chatters and hisses as two more rats joined them.

“Clay?” I whispered. “It’s not going to—”

“I know.”

“If I jump up fast and—”

“No.”

“I have to. They won’t wait much longer. If you cover me—”

“They’ll attack before you get your hands down.”

“Maybe if I can push off…” I knew even as I said it that I couldn’t. My stomach was too big for me to jump from a sitting position without using my hands.

“I’ll—” My throat dried up and I swallowed before starting again. “I’ll just have to move fast. Put my hands down and—”

“Clay!” Nick’s loud whisper cut through the construction yard. “There you—” He stopped at Clay’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”

A quick confused glance at Clay, as if to say “Why are you just standing there?” then Nick leapt forward. Clay’s hand slammed into the middle of his chest, stopping him.

“Spook them and they’ll attack.”

“What’s—” Zoe began as she came up behind Nick. She saw me. “Good lord. Don’t move. They must be rabid—”

“It’s something else,” Clay said. “Some disease from the portal. Elena? I’m going to jump in there. When they go for me, get out.”

I shifted my gaze to the pacing rats. The biggest one was perched on the edge, as if calculating the distance to my belly, snapping at the others as they jostled him.

“Elena?” Clay said. “I’ll be okay. I can handle rats. Better me than you right now.”

I hesitated, then nodded. Clay slowly lowered himself to a half-crouch, ready to jump. Then something hit his shoulder. Zoe, knocking him out of the way. Before anyone could react, she raced toward me.

“Run!” she said.

The king rat jumped, the others flying behind him in a stream of brown fur. One hit my side. Another my head, claws catching in my hair as it scrambled for a hold. I was already up, barreling forward. Hands clamped around my arm. Clay yanked me out and passed me to Nick, then dove past me.

I turned to see Zoe covered in rats, at least six of them, hanging off her arms and clothes as she swung wildly, trying to get them free. More attacked from the ground, lunging at her legs. Clay kicked the nearest one, bones crunching as his foot made contact. He grabbed one off Zoe and whipped it into the brick pile.

Nick steered me out of the way, then ran back to help. By then, the rats were already dispersing, hissing and squeaking as they ran for cover. Nick snatched the last one off Zoe’s back. The rat twisted around to bite him, but Clay’s fist knocked it out of Nick’s grip, and it hit the ground, convulsing as it died.

I hurried over to them. Zoe was shivering, eyes wide and wild, as she looked herself over.

“They—they’re gone, right?” she said, teeth chattering. “Oh, God. That was—” She rubbed her hands over her arms as the bites healed.

“Thank you,” I said.

A weak smile. “Not much of a sacrifice. Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll be good as new. Wounds heal and, whatever they carry, I can’t catch. These clothes are garbage now, though.”

“Doesn’t look like they ripped anything,” Nick said.

“That’s okay. They’re still going in the trash.” She wrapped her arms around herself and gave a hard shudder, then shook it off. “Well, now that I’ve revealed myself to be a total wimp…” She waved off our protests. “I can talk the talk, but as a predator, I’m a washout.”

She looked at Clay. “Thanks. I know you were just getting them out of the way before they went after Elena, but thanks. I was about ten seconds away from doing my Jamie Lee Curtis impression and screaming like a total sissy-girl.”

“I was about five seconds away from it myself,” I said. “Psycho killer rats. That’s a new one for me. Whatever disease they’re carrying must be making them—” I stopped, my head jerking up. “Clay? Nick? Did you get bit—”

Clay put up his hand to stop me as I sprinted over, ready to check him myself. “They only got Zoe.” He glanced at Nick, frowning. “You didn’t—”

“You didn’t leave any for me, remember? Deprived again.”

“Left you one.”

“Which
you
killed.”

“Are you sure everyone’s okay?” Zoe said. “I smell blood.”

Clay lifted his arm to check the bandage. It was soaked with blood.

“Shit,” he said. “That must be what the rats smelled.”

“Here,” I said. “Let me—”

He waved me off. “Got a few more strips on this shirt. You work on picking up a trail. I’m guessing if Nick circled back, he lost the zombie, right?”

Nick nodded. “We both did, so we came to grab Elena to see if she can pick up the trail. There’s roofing tar over there, and I can’t smell a damned thing except that. Where’s—”

“Lost him too,” I muttered. “So much for our bird in the hand. Come on.”

We made it just to the other side of the trailer when Clay’s head jerked up, gaze going north, following something. A second later, running footsteps thundered through the construction yard. A young man in a security uniform raced around the corner, a sandwich in hand. The absentee guard, returning to his post, he hoped, before anyone noticed he’d been gone.

Clay swore. Zoe stepped closer to Nick and motioned for us to head toward the road. The guard saw us, lips parting as if to call out. Zoe waved with one hand and gripped Nick’s arm with the other, then she motioned to the far road. Just two couples taking a shortcut through an empty construction site. The guard nodded and waved us on. We’d have to pick up the trail off the site.

Logically, there had to be a trail. Three, in fact—Rose’s, the bowler-hatted man’s and Hull’s—but we couldn’t find them.

Twice I caught that whiff of rot that told me one of the zombies had been by, but after following them for a few feet other scents got in the way. Hull was even tougher, lacking that special zombie odor. His story might be complete fiction, but if he
did
come through that portal, that was why we hadn’t picked his trail up at the site.

After twenty minutes, the blood seeping from Clay’s arm had soaked through a third bandage. We decided—or I insisted and Nick backed me up—to take Clay back to the hotel so Jeremy could have a look.

Not wanting to walk down the road trailing blood, we stopped in an alley to apply a fourth bandage while I called Jeremy and told him not to expect that Cabbagetown delivery, but to return to the hotel for Clay.

“There goes another shirt,” Clay said as he handed me the remains of his T-shirt.

“Here,” Nick said. “Use mine.”

“No, mine’s garbage already.”

As I tore a strip for the bandage, I couldn’t help noticing Zoe…hovering. All three of us turned to look at her, perched on a trash bin, leaning toward Clay, gaze fixed on his bloodied arm.

“The answer is no,” Clay said. “Yeah, it’s going to waste, but it’s not teatime, so stop drooling.”

“Ha-ha. I was just considering whether I should offer to help.”

“By sucking up the rest of it?”

“No, by drooling. You must be used to that, Professor, students drooling over you.” She hopped off the trash can. “In this case, though, it might be more welcome than I suspect it usually is. I could stop the bleeding.”

“How?” I said.

“Vampire saliva stops blood flow. Keeps our dinner from bleeding out once we’re done feeding. I can do that here.”

“Do I wanna ask
how
?” Clay said.

“Normally, I’d lick the affected area, which I know neither of us wants, so may I suggest some discreet expectoration onto that bandage?”

I looked at Clay. He nodded, grunted a thanks and I handed Zoe the bandage.

Zoe’s saliva did the trick. Ten minutes later, as we walked down Bay Street, Clay’s bandage was still white. But while that meant he wasn’t strolling downtown wearing a bloodied bandage, he was still half-naked. With each honk or whistle, Clay’s hands jammed deeper into his pockets and he stepped a little farther into the shadow of store awnings.