I ran for the ladder, screaming over the storm, “Grace, don’t go out there.”
She was already gone.
Thirteen
GRACE
What was I thinking? What was he thinking? Were either of us thinking at all? He heard what I said when I answered the question. He knew what I really meant. I wiped the taste of man from my lips and stepped out into the rain. I had to get to my car. If the Hughes had company coming, an awkward situation would become downright unbearable.
I fumbled with the rental keys as the visitors walked on up the stairs. Which button triggered the lock? That one. My finger slipped, hitting the alarm button, and the beeping horn rose over the wind’s wail. I unlocked and opened the door right as a bolt of lightning lit the world.
Illuminating dead faces on the Hugheses’ visitors.
One by one, they lurched toward me, the flashing headlights of my car, and the wailing siren. I dove inside, slamming the door behind me, hitting the lock as the first one smashed against the car, shaking it. Two more hit the car, pushing on the windows, stumbling into the door.
The fourth stood at a distance, then walked over, dragging its right foot. It leaned over and looked through the window, inches from my face.
With one finger, it tapped the window three times, in exactly the pattern I’d used on the floor in Aunt Emelia’s house.
As it drew back its fist, I hurled myself between headrests, into the backseat. Broken glass mixed with torrential rain as the window burst open. Wrinkled fingers coated in grave dirt missed me by a hairbreadth. I leaned forward to grab the messenger bag in the front seat, and took out my Deliverator.
The co-org stuck its head through the ruined glass, swiveling to look at me. Then its mouth opened, revealing a swollen green tongue. “Where. Is. Carson?”
It spoke. I sat in stunned silence, unable to respond.
It spit out a rotten tooth. “Stupid woman. Where. Is. Carson?”
I let the Deliverator answer. I aimed low to compensate for the kick, and wound up blowing a hole through its chest. Again, I pulled the trigger, and removed half its jaw. Unlike at the restaurant in Seattle, I kept my composure, remembering how Brynner had told me every third shot would be co-org specific. Sure enough, the next bullet burned a hole through the co-org’s stomach. Even in the rain, a cloud of black smoke burst from the hole as it staggered backward. But the smoke didn’t dissipate. It funneled, like a swarm of flying insects, straight into another co-org. That one stopped pushing on the car door. Its eyes focused on me, its mouth pulled back in a grin.
So I shot the new one, too. This time, I fired with confidence, counting toward the third bullet. The first two rounds I put into its legs, knocking it down and setting the stage for the next round to kill it.
As I pulled the trigger, cold hands wrapped around my neck, yanking me backward, dragging me out of the car before I could even see where the cloud would go. I fought for breath while a weight like an elephant crushed down on me—
And let go.
The co-org behind me convulsed, a silver blade sticking out of its head. I can’t say how long it took for it to die. My focus was on the cloud spewing from its wounds, twisting back to the last corpse. Unlike the others, this one looked . . . fresh. New.
I’d seen that man in the diner the day before, having breakfast.
“Carson.” A different body spoke, but in exactly the same gravelly voice. “I warned you on the ship. Bring it back. Where did you hide the jar?”
Carson flipped one of his blades end over end. “In a vault in BSI headquarters. You might have heard of it. Salt dome, surrounded by an underground river. You should visit some time.”
It chuckled. “You lie. We have seen everything in the vault. It’s not there.” Then it stepped toward me.
Brynner countered each step, backing it away. “I’ve been known to lie from time to time. Then again, you want me to believe you’ve been inside the vault? Who else is telling tall tales?”
It leaped up onto the hood of my car, just out of his reach, and counted off on broken fingers. “A piece of the cross. A blessed blade from the Crusades. The bones of a saint. Two tons of weapons grade plutonium. Shall I go on?”