Walking Shadows (24 page)

Frank, our erstwhile doorman, left through an archway on the right hand wall of the lounge room.
He returned with a half dozen bedraggled companions. Beryl was amongst them, her academic precision
so undone that she looked like she needed ironing. I recognised one of the others from the club,
though I didn't know his name, and the rest of them I'd never seen before.

"Where are we going?" Gary asked.

"Another safe house," Smith told him. "Covering our tracks."

"I thought this was a meeting about what we're going to do."

"So it is," Magdalene said. "We'll do that at the other place. You do not have to
bring
her
." She didn't even have to look at me to make her meaning clear.

"Did you bring her for us?" asked one of the strangers without bothering to suppress
his zeal. He didn't step closer but he leaned avidly in my direction.

Gary stepped between me and the hungry look.

"Gary doesn't share, Victor," said Mundy drily over the top of the manoeuvring.

"Maybe we should
make
him share." Victor's expression grew terrifyingly
fervent.

"Yes," drawled Mundy with a covetous look at my exposed throat, "perhaps we
should."

"Maybe we should leave." Gary reached blindly behind him for my hand and started
pushing me corridor-wards.

Our route was blocked by the return of Frank, who had slipped past us to the front door again.
Behind him, two more people were joining the less than merry throng. The first was a tall, heavy-set
man with a huge grin and cruel, laughing eyes that disturbed me more than Smith's cold fish look. I
took him for another of the gangland fraternity.

The other was a small, weedy bloke wearing a long navy blue apron over his jeans and shirt. His
shock of unruly black hair contrasted with his chalky skin. His eyes were small, dark, and darted
furtively over the place. Seeing Magdalene and Mundy did not seem to bring him any comfort. He
flinched at the sight of the loose sleeve over Mundy's stump.

"Paterson's here," Frank announced. "Time to go."

"Found him at work, Mr Smith, stacking shelves, like you said," said the grinning
guy.

The weedy fellow ran a hand self-consciously over the logo of one of the big supermarket chains
on the breast of his apron.

"It hardly seems worth the effort now, does it Paterson?" said Magdalene with easy
mockery. "I don't imagine you need to pay the rent any longer."

"I got nowhere else to be," was Paterson's sulky reply.

"Not since the hunters chased you out of your scruffy little room, at any rate." The
grandmotherly touch that Magdalene usually displayed for the human members of the Gold Bug was
utterly absent when dealing with her own kind. "You'll have to slum it from ghetto to ghetto
like the rest of them now."

Poor Paterson. The envisaged grandeur of immortality had been reduced to this: stacking
supermarket shelves so he could pay to store his gear somewhere other than an abandoned railway shed
or a derelict warehouse.

However, another part of me thought it served Paterson right, and wondered how long he had been
undead, and how many people he had killed before modern life had made that kind of thing
inconvenient.

Other questions were also bobbing up in my brain. The ones that were important - pertaining to
why they'd brought Paterson here, and what they were planning to do next - were not uppermost,
however. My own big question was: exactly how many kinds of stupid was I, that I was here in a nest
of vampires, several of whom wanted to eat me?

A sharp rap on the front door made everyone flinch. Smith nodded curtly at Frank, who reached to
the back of his jeans to fetch a gun from the waistband. I took a step away from it and bumped into
Gary.

Frank crept towards the front door. I craned my neck to watch him as he peered through the
peephole.

"It's them, the kid and the older guy," he announced, calmly, crisply, like he waited
for assassins to arrive all the time. He raised his gun.

Smith and the cruelly cheerful guy also drew weapons. Smith gestured for everyone to move through
the archway into a kitchen. Gary and I had no choice but to join the hushed exodus. Past the heads
of the small crowd I saw a door at the rear of the kitchen, between a sink and bench covered in
peeling linoleum and an ancient, rust-stained fridge.

"Were you followed?" Smith demanded of his colleague.

"Couldn't see anyone," was the reply. "But you know these creepy bastards. The kid
could have been up on the rooftops and I'd have missed him."

"They're here though, aren't they?" said Paterson gruffly. "Must have followed us
from the shop. How would they know where I worked, eh?"

Magdalene paused in her progress to the back door to give Mundy a very pointed stare. Mundy
scowled at her.

"Your bloody address book," said Smith in disgust. "Christ."

Mundy was subject to a range of accusatory glares. The blame-fest was truncated by the
frontrunners' arrival at the deadlocked door. A dark and overgrown back yard was visible through the
yellowed lace curtains above the sink.

"Giorgio," Smith gestured with his gun. Giorgio slunk to the window to peer out of a
crack in the curtain.

Smith addressed the milling crowd. "Once you're out, split up. Meet at the new safe house
tomorrow. You know where to go?"

Home, was my answer. Oh, please, home; and I was taking Gary with me. The others could go
wherever they damn well liked.

Giorgio waved everyone back from the door, unlocked it and paused. Smith craned his neck as
though listening for clues from Frank at the far end of the corridor.

A loud crash from the front of the house galvanised Giorgio, who threw open the back door and
shoved one of those waiting through the breach.

What happened next was a blur. Frank came running, yelling, into the corridor, blood streaming
down his face and his right arm hanging bent and useless at his side.

"He's here," he started to shout as a blond boy sprang out of the room behind him onto
his back. I recognised Abe instantly, and wondered how soon before he recognised me in turn.

Abe was currently occupied with other matters. His flying leap knocked Frank to the floor with a
nasty, loud crack. Frank shrieked and fell horribly silent. I flattened myself against the wall,
trying to stay out of the way. Abe, crouched on Frank's spine, launched himself at Paterson, the
last person in line for the back door. Smith raised his gun.

I clapped my hands over my ears at the explosion that followed. A strange, hot smell filled the
kitchen. Abe's momentum carried him past Paterson and into Smith, throwing both of them against the
wall.

Mundy had already shoved his way through the open door and into the darkness, determinedly
jostling everyone else out of the way in the process. Giorgio turned and fired at Abe, who was
getting to his feet again, easily sidestepping Smith's feeble swipe.

Abe looked down at his own stomach and the two blackened holes in his shirt. There was no blood.
Giorgio was staring at the wounds too, before he pulled the trigger again.

The boy ignored the new hole on the right hand side of his shirt. He cocked his head, grinned
crazily and said something I couldn't quite hear. He leapt, lightning-fast, wrapped a hand around
Giorgio's gun hand, and squeezed. If my ears hadn't been ringing from the shots, I might have heard
the bones break.

Gary was pulling me towards the back door. I could see people fleeing into the night, caught a
glimpse of others still in the kitchen scrambling to follow. It was like someone had turned on the
lights and all the cockroaches were scurrying for cover.

Suddenly, the door frame was filled with a new body.

A familiar body.

Evan.

We stared at each other. Shocked. And then I noticed he wasn't as shocked as me. He looked
injured and disappointed.

And behind my own shock, a torrent of responses tumbled through my head. Horror at the
realisation of what Evan was, and what he did. Desperation to explain to him. Rage. Loss.

No, don't be this. I could have loved you. The way you made me feel.

Beryl collided with me as she dived for the door, and my hip smashed painfully on the edge of the
sink. Evan was forced back a step as Beryl pushed past.

Gary had paused to help me, to shove me towards the door, and there was Evan again, something
long, shining, wicked-looking in his hands. As we pushed towards the space, he lunged over my
shoulder at Gary.

Gary shifted behind me, with those lightning reflexes that always startled me. He jumped clear,
dragging me along with him.

Evan lunged after us, thrusting the thing in his hand towards Gary's head. It wasn't a stake. It
was a syringe.

The needle almost pierced Gary's cheek and he twisted violently sideways, crashing into the
sink.

"Out of the way, Lissa!" Evan shouted.

I grabbed the dish rack from the sink and swung it at Evan's head. "Leave him
alone!"

Gary lurched upright again. Evan tried to push past me and from the corner of my eye I saw Abe
coming for us.

While Evan was trying not to jab me with the syringe, I seized his wrist and brought my knee up
as hard as I could. I missed the crucial spot in his groin, but came close enough to distract him.
Behind us, Gary made a grab for me.

"Gary! Get the hell out of here!"

He ignored me. Evan had taken a tight hold of me now, abandoning the needle in favour of stopping
me from trying to knee him in the goolies again. Gary had seized Evan roughly by the shoulder.

Kneeing him in the crotch was one thing, but I recoiled at the thought of watching Gary break
Evan's shoulder just by squeezing it.

"Gary, just go! Get out!"

Abe hurled his thin, wiry body at Gary. Evan and I were wrenched one way, Gary and Abe the other.
Gary ended up on his back with Abe crouched over him. Gary fought but Abe was clearly practiced at
this. He punched ferociously, connecting with Gary's temple with a horrible thwack, and Gary
scrabbled to get hold of Abe's wrists.

I threw myself at Abe. Abe was strong but also small. My momentum as I crashed into him succeeded
in knocking him awry. Gary scrambled up from the floor. He reached for me, but I had to keep Abe
distracted. I punched and scratched at Abe's eyes like a maniac.

"
Get the fuck out of here
!" I screamed at Gary. "It's not me they want to
kill!"

Abe's hands closed around my wrists as he gave me a look that put the lie to that last assertion.
Then Evan was there, yelling "Let her go, Abe! Let her go!" and punching the boy's
arms.

And Gary, with a last wretched look at me, finally did what he was told and ran.

Abe dropped my wrists and shoved me aside. He gave Evan one belligerent look then was on his feet
and diving across the room - which was not as empty as I had supposed during our struggle.

Smith had dragged Giorgio to his feet and had him half way down the corridor towards the front
door. In the kitchen, Paterson had been cornered between the fridge and the equally rusty and
ancient stove. Too much activity had thwarted any attempt to escape from the narrow space.

Evan pushed me aside and I struck painfully against the cupboard handles below the sink. I saw
him snatch up the dropped syringe and slam the back door shut as he passed it, following Abe across
the room towards Paterson.

Abe threw himself against Paterson, pressed him into the wall. I heard the front door open and
Smith and Giorgio stumble down the stairs. I tried to work out which gave me the better chance. The
front door was metres away down the corridor but, judging by the change in sound, still open. If I
could get away and down the corridor fast enough I could be outside and running hell for leather
towards the shopping strip and relative safety. The back door was right here but shut, and would
take precious moments to open.

My body hurt all over. I wanted to slip away. Be blank. Be marble. Be
not here
.

I edged towards the back door.

"Don't try it," Evan growled at me. Abe cast me an 'I'm coming for you next' look that
immobilised me.

"Hold him, Abe." Evan brought the syringe up and stabbed the needle into Paterson's
chest, directly over his unbeating heart. Pressed the plunger. Paterson twisted like a demon and the
needle snapped off at the root. Abe dropped the spent syringe, leaving Evan to retrieve and pocket
it. Paterson struggled, more feebly now. Abe seized him by the shoulders to keep him still while
Evan watched.

I didn't even think about intervening. Too late I tried to run for the front door. Abe released
Paterson and casually swiped at me. The blow caught me in the ribs and knocked me into the sink
again. A whimper escaped me. I faintly heard Evan ticking Abe off for it.

Clutching my aching ribs, I stared at the chaos. At Frank, immobile on the floor with blood
dribbling from his mouth and pooling under his head. At Paterson, still trapped between the two
rusty appliances, no longer struggling but propped against the wall, regarding the needle protruding
from his chest with a puzzled expression. At Abe and Evan watching him like scientists observing a
lab rat.

Another whimper rose in my throat and I swallowed it down. Drawing myself into a cautious,
protective ball, I watched them, half hoping for a chance to escape, but mostly so I would see when
they decided to came for me. Then I tried not to hyperventilate.

Evan stepped around me to rummage through the drawers. He withdrew a carving knife.

"Does he need another dose?" he asked Abe. Abe shook his head. Paterson attempted to
run, and Abe cuffed him brutally on the side of the head. Paterson staggered.

"Ready?" Evan handed Abe the knife, handle first. Abe took it, tested its weight in his
hand.

Abe seized Paterson by the shoulder, turned him, stabbed him through the heart, withdrew the
blade, all in a smooth and sudden moment. Paterson wobbled on his feet. Sagged.