The Undead Pool

“Good,” David said, the slant of his lips catching my attention. I knew he didn’t trust Trent, probably because a possible friend had committed suicide in Trent’s lockup rather than divulge the location of the focus, the same curse now residing happily in David.

I tightened my grip on the nearest ley line and put a foot on a chair, shoving it to a nearby booth. Both vampires jerked, telling me they were versed in the arts of security, not the bedroom—if their uniforms hadn’t given it away. “I wish you’d get off Trent’s case,” I said as I sent the small table to join it. I wanted room to work, and dodging around tables and chairs slowed me down. “He’s not as bad as you think.”

David glanced at me, a weird light in his eye. “You mean he’s not that bad anymore. You probably saved his life, you know.”

“Today?” I blurted, and he shook his head. There was one last chair between us and the two vampires, and they began paying attention when I shoved it to join the others.

“No . . .” David pulled his rifle up to keep them unmoving. “Last year or so. His morals were becoming nebulous. You forced him to make a decision. I wasn’t going to make my generation live through another Kalamack.”

“Seriously?” Jenks said, altitude fluctuating. “Dude, I gotta tell Trent.”

“No you don’t,” I said as I tossed my shoulder bag to land next to the counter, hopefully out of the way. If I was lucky, one of them would try to search it and knock themselves out with the spilled sleepy-time potion. “You. Blondie. Where are the mystics you just stole?” I asked, and the blond vampire’s eyes widened, lips parting to show his sharp canines.

“Shut up,” the other snarled, eyes black as pits.

“Frank, it’s that demon witch!” Blondie said, clearly shaken.

“I said shut up!” he said again, his gaze darting to the windows, and I stood with my feet placed for balance, breathing in the growing scent of angry vampire. Their heavy slacks and long-sleeved shirts were coated with a charm retardant, and their boots were made for running. Military? I wondered, knowing you could get them at any outlet, though I personally wouldn’t trust the anticharm glaze anymore. Their hair, too, was cut close to their skull, and my lips curled. Military vampires were just asking for trouble. They were too pretty for that and often strayed from orders.

“Are they in there?” I said as I looked at the device, and he pulled it closer.

“We will be free of them,” Frank said, his voice taking on the cadence of the misled. “They use us and trade us like dolls.” His head came up, eyes cold with hatred. “They don’t deserve life!”

“You had me until that last one,” I said, fingers moving in a charm to harness the line’s energy into my tingling fingertips. “Look, I understand about wanting to change society, but this isn’t how to do it. You’re hurting people.”

“They killed my sister!” the vampire shouted, and when he stood, I released my spell.

“Dilatare!” I yelled, the ball of light exploding in the light hanging over the table.

Glass shattered. Jenks darted to David, hiding behind him as his rifle blew a hole in the ceiling. Teeth clenched, David leaped at the blond vampire, rifle poised as a club.

“Not the ceiling!” Mark shouted from behind the counter. “Damn it, Rachel! I’m still making payments!”

Dust rained down in a cloudy mix of pixy sparkles. David and the blond vampire were on the floor, crashing into chairs and tables. The other lay dazed, slumped in the booth, and I watched as the device fell from his grip to hit the tile.

“Got it!” I shouted, diving under the table.

Awareness flashed across the dark vampire’s face, and with a savage grin, he dropped down under the table to meet me.

I couldn’t stop. I slid under the table, slamming into him. Thick and heady, his scent struck me, diving deep as I gasped and struggled to pull back from under him. Snarling, he reached for my shoulder, teeth bared. Adrenaline sang, and I kicked wildly at him, my head thumping the bottom of the table as I wedged the device out from under his foot.

“Get off!” I screamed, flooding him with ever-after, and he howled, flinging himself back and hitting the wall.

Scrambling, I tucked the mystics to me. A hand clamped on the back of my shirt and pulled me out. My butt slid on the tiled floor as I spun in a dizzying circle, landing almost in the center of the room again.

But I could breathe, the oppressive feel of the air under the table washed away. “Thanks, David!” I panted, then froze, the mystics pressed against my middle. It hadn’t been David.