off. I wiped my mouth, hoping I was smearing off the goofy smile. I turned back around. "We have official government backup from the Psychometry Law Enforcement Division of Homeland Security."
Bruiser nodded. "I wasn't sure he'd be able to pull it off."
"You did this?"
"Yes." His eyes met mine. "As primo."
"Ah," I said, my heart plummeting. That was that. So much for the hot and heavy clinch in the hall. His duty to Leo came first, and keeping us on the right side of the law was a big part of that. Not that I could complain. Ricky Bo was coming and my big-cat was happy.
"Masks," Eli said.
I pulled the mask over my face. Eli had found them for sale at a gun shop in New Orleans and identified them as "Israeli M-15 military models with Nato filters." Whatever. I just wanted mine to keep me alive. I settled the mask in place and tested it by breathing deeply before Eli released the foul-smelling smokeless bomb in the confines of the limo. Stink filled the car. I didn't smell a thing, though breathing wasn't easy and the mask was hot and uncomfortable. But I smelled nothing gross and gave Eli a thumbs-up.
Eli had informed us that sleeping gas didn't exist, but the military had something that worked short-term on humans. He'd be using that on the building. I didn't ask what it was or where he got it, and he didn't volunteer. I vaguely recalled that the Russians had tried something on a theater full of people once and managed to kill most of them. I just hoped the U.S. military stuff worked better.
Thanks to Derek's suppliers and the truck that had followed us up here, we were all dressed in night camo with Kevlar vests, combat boots, utility belts, shooting gloves - the kind with the knuckles and fingertips bare - ear protectors that doubled as radio receivers, and enough gear to start a small war. Bruiser had guns holstered everywhere and carried the pump shotgun borrowed from Esmee. Wrassler had a totally illegal, fully automatic, compact machine gun and enough magazines to shoot for fifteen minutes at full auto. Enough ammo to melt the barrel of his gun, assuming the heat buildup from firing didn't jam it first, which was all too likely.
I had all my blades and stakes - including two new, longer, special-made ones - in sheaths and loops, and my Walthers holstered at my spine and under my left arm. One was loaded with silver for vamps and the other with standard ammo. My M4 Benelli was loaded for vamp with seven silver flechette rounds, and I had another seven in special loops in a thigh pouch. But if I needed to reload, I would likely be dead before I could finish. The shotgun was slung at the ready and strapped in place under my right arm. The positioning was Wrassler's idea, and though I'd never fought with the M4 strapped there, it felt good. I wouldn't have to pull the shotgun from its spine sheath and ready it for firing. I just had to stabilize, point, and shoot. The webbing left me room to maneuver the weapon enough to aim and fire, and was relatively easy to pull free for full manual positioning.
"Com check," Derek said over the radio. Instantly, we could hear the helo in the radio system background. He called our names or monikers out one at a time, and when he said, "Legs," I replied, "Got 'em." Everyone laughed. It was hard to see his expression with the mask in the way, but I thought Bruiser's eyes were twinkling.
"Canisters?" Eli asked Bruiser and me.
I touched the three canisters at my belt; they were marked CS. It was the new pressurized colloidal silver stuff for use on vamps and I didn't know how they would work. No one did. When the canister was activated, it would spew an ionized silver mist into the air. Every time vamps took a breath - if they did before it dissipated - they'd get a lungful. It wouldn't mean instant death, but it might slow them down and poison them.
"On my go," Eli said. This was his gig. I had no training for paramilitary raids. My combat style was more along the lines of stake 'em and run. Eli pulled his mask off, grabbed a black mesh bag, and slid out of the car. He disappeared into an alley at a fast jog.