Kiss of Death Page 0,64

want to move, and was caked with dust and old, dead bugs--she discovered that the grime had disguised a thick set of iron bars on the other side. "Michael," she said, "can you break these?"

"Maybe. Here." Michael handed Eve over to Shane, who balanced her with a lot more difficulty. He looked at the bars, which were in full, blazing sunlight. "That--could be a problem." He was still wearing his leather coat, but his gloves were ripped--it looked as if somebody had shredded them with claws. Pale strips of skin showed through on the backs of his hands. Shane, who was leaning against the desk that blocked the door, was almost knocked over as the vampires on the other side slammed into the barrier, sliding the desk nearly a foot before Shane dug in his feet and shoved back. The desk slid toward the door, inch by slow inch, until he'd jammed it hard against the old vampire's grabbing hands caught in the doorway. "Decide quick!" he yelled. "We're running out of time!" Michael took a deep breath, grabbed one of the ancient, dusty drapes on the side of the window, and yanked it down. He wrapped it over both hands, then grabbed the bars. Even then, the sleeves on his coat rode up, and Claire saw the strips of reddened skin, already burned from before, start to smoke and turn black. Michael shook with effort, but the sun was too much for him. He let go of the bars and stumbled backward, panting, eyes gone red and wild. "Dammit!" he yelled, and tried kicking the bars. That worked better; his booted feet and jeans protected him better, and the first kick landed solidly, bending the bars and rattling the bolts. He didn't have time for another one, because the vampires on the other side of the door hit it again, sliding the desk halfway into the room and sending Shane stumbling into Claire. Michael whirled in time to face the first vamp in, which was the younger one in the ragged football jersey. Michael was fast, but his multiple exposures to the sun had slowed him down, and the other vamp hit first and hard in a blocking tackle, and Michael was thrown all the way into the back wall. He shook it off and rolled back to his feet just as the bloodsucking jock reached out for Claire. Michael wrapped a fist in the back of the boy's jersey and yanked him off his feet, throwing him down with a bang flat on his back. He planted a knee on the guy's chest, holding him down, but that wasn't a permanent solution, and as Claire watched, the other vampire, the twisted old man, shuffled into the room, grinning with one side of his mouth. He looked even more dead than most vampires, and there was something familiar about the disorganized way he was moving, something-- She didn't have time to think about it, because the old man jumped at them like some creepy hunting spider, hands outstretched and hooked into claws. Shane dived one way, burdened by Eve; Claire dived the other. That put Shane and Eve closer to the door, and with a tormented look back, Shane ducked out. "Claire, go!" Michael said. "Run!"

"I can't run," she said, very reasonably. Hobbling wasn't really an option; either one of these vamps could take her down in seconds. One slow, sliding step at a time, she backed away from the approaching old vampire, heading for the window. He didn't seem to get her plan until he'd followed her into the sunlight and begun to burn. Even then, it seemed to take a few seconds to really sink in that he was in trouble. He kept coming in that awkward crab walk even as his clay white skin turned pink, then red, then began to smoke. Then, finally, he howled and ducked away into the shadows. Claire, pressed up against the windowsill and bathed by the hot sun, breathed a sigh of relief. Briefly. "Smart," Michael said. He stayed where he was, holding Vamp Boy down, and watching the older vampire shuffle around and stalk Claire. "Stay where you are. He may try to grab you and pull you out of the sun. If I let this one go--"

"I know," Claire said. "I've got it." She didn't, really, but what choice did she have? She looked around frantically for something, anything, to use, and blinked. "Can you throw that over