Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She glared at him over her shoulder. “My fucking job. What you doing.”
“But your…” He motioned around his own head. “What about—”
“You think I’m go to a doc in box? The ER? Fuck you.” Then she frowned. “Fine, we call for reinforcements. Then we go finish this job.”
Shoving one of the guns under her armpit, she took out a cell phone, and fumbled with her thumbs. Just as he was going to ask her if she needed help, she hissed at him and sent out something via text.
“Now we go get those two vampires,” she told him.
* * *
Across the way from where the slayers were, Shuli was still flat on his back. But at least his case of the stunned-stupids was dissipating, so he was able to see more clearly.
And what a view.
Looming over him, like a pissed-off Paul Bunyan who’d gone hard-ass and gotten himself a bunch of tattoos and some militia training, L.W. was doing that leg-plant thing he did, all but straddling Shuli cowboy-style.
“Must you,” Shuli muttered.
“Can you walk?”
“Do I have to.” But he was already sitting up. “Gimme a hand.”
The only thing good about L.W. was that when it counted, the male was a doer, not a stew-er, and he pulled Shuli up to the vertical with a yank. They didn’t have much time. The lag in bullets-trading wasn’t going to last, and it was going to resume right up close: The slayers had to be reloading before they were going to close in.
Unfortunately, Shuli did more tap-dancing than true walking—at least until L.W. hitched up a hold and carried him under one arm like a cardboard cutout. Thanks to the excellent eyesight of vampires, the contours of the back hall they were going down were nominally visible. There were office chairs on their sides, paper bags and fast-food wrappers, a couple of what looked like sleeping bags—
Something was off about this, Shuli thought as he looked around. He just didn’t know quite what was wrong with the corridor.
L.W. clearly felt the same. But as the slayers entered the hall and the scent of death and old-fashioned talcum powder drifted down, the two of them had to go even faster.
When they came up to a door, L.W. fired a bullet into the knob without even testing whether it was locked—and there was no giving him shit for the noisy decision. Then again, Shuli was essentially an armchair quarterback deadweight.
Commentary might just get him dropped.
The open area on the far side was an old office facility of some kind, but it had been a while since the desks and chairs had been used. Musty/dusty, mold, and crud—the stink was nearly as bad as the lesser shit. There was also no good cover to be had, and no clues where an exit was—although it was a good bet they’d gone through some kind of fire door, so maybe if they—
“Head that way,” Shuli said as L.W. already started off. “Toward the front.”
The place had been stripped of whatever cubicles there had been, but given the patterns of wear and tear on the carpet, he could just imagine it being some kind of call center, back before AI had completely taken over that job.
Not that he wasted much time on that kind of origin story.
Because they had problems.
When they came up to the main entrance, it was not just locked, it was made of… steel plates?
And meanwhile, the scent of lessers was getting stronger, so clearly the slayers were tracking them through the building.
“Stand here,” L.W. said as he pushed Shuli against the wall.
The male took out a cell phone—then cursed. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“What.” Shuli looked up at the ceiling. “Wait a minute…”
There was a subtle gleam up above—and all around them.
“I got no signal—”
“Oh, shit,” Shuli breathed. “This was a data security firm. It’s steel… we’re surrounded by steel and lead.”
So no dematerializing.
“Fucking hell,” L.W. muttered.
Shuli looked back toward the fire door they’d come out of. Then he glanced at the other male. “Tell me you have a charge on you.”
Zsadist, who had trained them both, had always maintained that every fighter needed an explosive with him, just in case.
This was just in case.
“There has to be a way out,” L.W. groused like he hadn’t heard what Shuli’d said.
“There is. It’s blasting through this steel door.” Shuli started checking his own magazines. “Get yourself out. I’ll hold the enemy for as long as I can—”
“Wait, what the fuck are you doing?”
Shuli started limping back for where they came. “I’m going to be a distraction—”
L.W. grabbed hold of Shuli’s arm. “The fuck you are—”
“You’re the future King. I’m—well, I’m rich and I’m good looking.” He searched that hard, cruel face, and thought about all the Wraths who had lead the species. “But there are plenty of me’s. There’s only one of you—shut up. You know I’m right so quit arguing. Set the charge, get the fuck out. I’ll do what I can to give you the time you need.”