30 Days of Night: Light of Day (26 page)

“You can do me,” Rocco said.

“If you’re sure …”

“You do her, you do me.”

Chip came forward. He was a heavyset black vampire with a thick salt-and-pepper beard. “Rocco, what if something goes wrong?”

“If something goes wrong,” Rocco echoed, “do what good ol’ Larry suggested. Tear him apart.”

Larry was pretty sure nothing would go wrong, but
that didn’t keep him from being nervous, just in case. He prepared a syringe, tapped the needle, squirted a little of his formula out. “You know how to give a shot?” he asked Walker.

“Not really. I usually don’t look when I get one.”

“These are easy. You don’t need a vein, just jab the needle in and press down.”

“Okay.”

“You can watch me do these first ones, then help when it’s time to do everyone else.”

“Then you’ll turn me?”

“Then I’ll turn you.”

“Okay,” Walker said again.

Larry took Shiloh’s forearm in his hands. Her flesh was as pale and cool as a marble statue. Her eyes were deep green, the color of a pond he had fished in a few times during his life. Full lips curled at the corners in the faintest smile, and he guessed she must have been devastating. Still was, for that matter; she had stopped aging at death, had never deteriorated. He could see falling in love with a woman like this.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Whenever, just do it.”

Larry pressed the needle into her flesh, shoving it deep, and pressed down on the plunger. Shiloh didn’t flinch. Her eyelashes fluttered a little, but she showed no other reaction. When the syringe was empty, he withdrew the needle. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re good to go, then.”

Her head swiveled toward the door. “Outside? In the sun?”

“That’s right.”

“Wait, Shiloh,” Rocco said. “Wait for me.”

Larry was already back at his case, refilling the hypo. “I’ll get you done in just a second,” he said.

Rocco stood, waiting calmly. His shoulders were straight, his spine rigid. He watched Larry with dark eyes that missed nothing. He
was
the George Clooney of the vampire world, Larry decided, or one of them. All these vampires followed him because he projected strength and certainty, and the fact that he was tall and handsome didn’t hurt.

Larry injected the formula into Rocco’s corded forearm. He used the same needle he had on Shiloh. Infectious diseases were not, he reasoned, something the undead had to worry about. And from the looks of things, even if they were, Rocco and Shiloh would already have shared all of theirs.

“You’re done,” Larry said.

“Let’s go outside,” Shiloh said anxiously. “Come on, Rocco.”

“Rocco, I don’t know about this,” Goldie said.

“It’ll be fine,” Larry promised.

“Better be,” Brick said.

“If there’s a problem, we’ll come back in,” Rocco said. “If there’s not, we’ll stay out for a little while, just to see.”

“I know you’ll be thrilled. It’ll seem bright at first, and hot—you’re not used to it. But you will be, and your eyes will adjust soon.”

“I can’t wait to see what it’s like,” Shiloh said.

“We’re going, Shiloh.” To Brick and the others, he said, “Watch him.”

Larry went to the door and opened it just a hair, peered out. The sun had crested the horizon. There was no full sunlight in the motel’s parking lot yet, but plenty of indirect sun. Most vampires wouldn’t survive it.

“You others should move back away from the door,” he said. “I’ll open it, and leave it open so you can watch them outside.”

“You’ve taken the stuff, right?” Rocco asked.

“Of course.”

“Then
you’ll
go out first.”

Larry had hoped to avoid that. He had taken the early version. If he stayed out for more than a couple of minutes, sun-rage would overtake him. He didn’t think that would be a problem for Rocco and Shiloh, but he wouldn’t know that for sure until they went out.

He didn’t see any way to refuse Rocco, though.

“Fine,” he said. “Everyone clear?”

The other vampires moved deep into the room. None of them wanted to risk early morning sunlight slanting inside. Larry opened the door and stepped out, leaving it open.

He took several steps into the parking lot, stopped, turned back to the door. Indirect sunlight warmed his
back and shoulders. “The water’s fine,” he said. “Come on in.”

“I’m coming,” Shiloh said. She started for the door, but Rocco stopped her, moved past her until the doorway framed him. He stood there for a few moments, blinking, then stepped out. He raised his arms to shoulder height and held them there, offering the largest possible surface to the light.

“It is bright,” he said.

“You’ll adjust,” Larry snapped. Rage starting to build already. He had to get back inside. “Come on, Shiloh.”

“It’s all right,” Rocco said.

Shiloh gave a girlish squeal and flounced out. She bobbed up and down in the light. Larry rushed back inside, felt the cooling shade. The rage began to dissipate immediately, but it had been close. Another minute or two out there and he might have lost control.

“This is fantastic!” Shiloh shouted.

“Everything okay, Rocco?” Angel asked.

“Fine,” Rocco replied. “Bright, like he said. Warm. But it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t burn.”

“Of course,” Larry said. Now that he was safely inside, excitement over what he had accomplished began to set in. Rocco and Shiloh were out in the sunlight, and they weren’t losing control of themselves. Both were smiling. Walking in the sunlight was a pleasant experience for most humans, and it could be for vampires, too.

“You should also be stronger than ever,” Larry reminded them. “Test it.”

Rocco flexed his arm. His muscles were always impressive, but they wouldn’t have changed in appearance, Larry knew. Only in function. Rocco turned slowly, looking for something to test, and his gaze settled on Walker’s van, parked beside the RV. He went to its rear, crouched down, got a grip on the undercarriage, and straightened his knees. The van’s rear end lifted, seemingly without effort. Rocco shifted his grip, raising the thing to his chest, then got under it and pushed up. The van raised higher, until Rocco held the rear end over his head and the nose scraped asphalt.

Walker watched with awe, not complaining about the damage done to his vehicle. After holding it there for several seconds, Rocco lowered it gently back to the ground, then dropped it the last couple of feet.

“You’re right, Larry,” Rocco said. He grinned broadly. “I am stronger.”

“I knew you would be.”

“Me now!” Shiloh said. “I want to try something!”

Rocco pointed to a wrought-iron railing alongside a ramp leading to the office door. “How about that?”

“Okay!” She dashed over to it, palms up as if collecting sunflakes on them. When she reached the railing, she gripped it in both hands. She pushed with one and pulled with the other. The iron gave easily beneath her efforts.

“This is awesome!” she cried. “I love it!”

“I knew you would!” Larry called.

She raced across the parking lot and back into the room, ran straight to Larry and threw herself against him, pulling him into a close embrace. She pressed those devastating lips against his. There was none of the warmth he would have expected from a human woman, but the pressure was there, the press of firm breasts against his body, the feel of her hands on his back. “Larry,” she said, her lips barely an inch from his. “You are awesome!”

“Thank … thank you, Shiloh.” He hoped Rocco wasn’t a jealous type. He had already learned that vampires could get erections, but he was starting to be reminded of that fact, and unless she let go of him soon she would notice.

She did. “Later,” she whispered. “I’ll do whatever you want. You’re like a … like a savior or something.” Then she released him and spun back to Rocco, just now coming into the room. “Rocco, I’m gonna do Larry later.”

“Have fun,” Rocco said, smiling. “He deserves it.”

Larry guessed he still had a lot to learn about vampire social rituals, but he liked what he had seen so far.

“How is it, Rocco?” Winston asked.

“It’s great. It’s everything he said it would be.”

“So we can all do it?”

“If he’s got enough juice.”

“I have plenty,” Larry said. “Walker, come on over here and help me.”

“T
HAT’S
G
REENBARGER!
” M
ARINA GRABBED
binoculars and looked at the man again. “That’s definitely him.”

“You said he had gone over,” Kat said.

“He has.”

“But he’s outside, in daylight.”

“Then his stuff works.”

“I guess it does.”

Monte sighted down the length of his weapon. “You want me to take him out?”

“The place is full of bloodsuckers,” Marina said. “I want to take Larry, but I want the rest, too. And if we can get Larry alive, that might be helpful—I’d like to know what he’s learned since he changed.”

“Long as you’re not runnin’ us through hoops just to show off.”

Marina stared at Monte. He had said it with a smile on his face, so she guessed he was only giving her a hard time.

“Let’s wait until he goes back in,” she said. “Then take them all.”

“Fine,” Monte said. He lowered the weapon.

Marina didn’t blame him for wanting to move. So
did she. So did everyone else. It was what they got up for every morning. She could feel the pent-up energy pinballing around the van, and holding it back was hard.

But she was in charge, and one of the responsibilities that came with that was deciding which tactics and strategies made the most sense for the overall mission. Like it or not, there was more to consider than simply killing vampires.

“Here come some more,” Kat said.

Marina tensed as a young-looking woman came into the light, followed by a dark, muscular man. As soon as they were out, Larry Greenbarger dashed back into the room.

The two of them appeared hesitant, then almost ecstatic.

Then things turned terrifying.

The man hoisted half a van over his head. The woman twisted wrought iron like it was aluminum foil. She ran back inside, and the man followed at a more dignified pace.

“Jesus Christ,” Jimbo said.

“No kidding.” Marina could barely contain her unease. Vampires were plenty powerful, but sunlight? That was supposed to kill them. Here they were performing feats of strength that should have been difficult under any circumstances, even as the sun rose in the sky.

The sun was the best weapon humanity had against
their kind, as effective a deterrent as nuclear bombs against the Soviet Union. If this spread—and it already had, at least online, although she supposed there was some small degree of skill involved in mixing the chemicals that might leave some vampires out—then there would be no holding them back.

Marina had not always taken the job as seriously as she should have, but it was more than a job to her just the same. It was a mission, and as close to a sacred one as she could imagine. The bloodsuckers were unnatural, an incomprehensible threat, and now, suddenly, that threat was growing geometrically.

“Let’s put these animals down,” she said, afraid that if they waited another minute, Greenbarger would dose more of them.

Her people responded with enthusiastic grunts, restrained versions of the shouts they would have given if they weren’t hoping to sneak up on a motel room full of potential supervampires. They shoved open the van’s doors, and were just stepping out when two Chicago PD vehicles rolled up to the end of the block and stopped. One was a truck full of cops in assault gear, who spilled onto the street. The other was a long black limo, from which emerged an older gentleman wearing a black suit, striped tie, and an air of self-importance. He eyed the Operation Red-Blooded van and stalked toward it, his SWAT team backing him up.

“Can we maybe move this off the street?” Marina
asked. “We have a federal operation going on here and I’d hate for our surveillance subjects to look outside and see all this.” She nodded toward the assault team. “And really, I think we have it under control, but if your people want to wait around—out of the way—in case we need backup, that’s all right with me.”

The man wiped his ruddy face with a handkerchief. She got the impression he did a lot of that, and as soon as he moved it away, sweat was beading on it again. “Apparently you misunderstand the situation,” he said. “I’m Andrew Tenko, special assistant to the mayor for law enforcement. He wants this to be a Chicago operation, not federal.”

“Maybe he does,” Marina said. “But that’s not a call he gets to make.”

“You might want to check in with your boss about that. The mayor has been on the phone with the Director of National Intelligence for the past fifteen minutes.”

Marina fought back a curse. She would have to call Kleefeld and see if he had been leaned on. But every minute that ticked by was a wasted one in which who knows what might be going on inside. And every second they stood out on the street, someone might emerge from the motel room again and spot them.

She took the man’s arm. “Sir, I don’t care if you’re the president of the United States—we have to get off this street. Now.” She led him around to the back of the van, waving the SWAT team away at the same
time. The man was stocky, but inside his suit he felt like a mass of loose skin with a few bones inside it, no muscle mass or serious fat.

Her team understood the stakes, and they took cover behind the van. She saw them scoping the motel room with weapons at the ready, and she knew they were professionals, trustworthy and ready for anything. She wished she had as much faith in the Chicago cops.

“Do you understand what you’re getting in the way of here?” Tenko asked her. “There’s a man in there we suspect of killing half a dozen people and draining their blood. My detectives tell me that they’re sure this is their man, but they need to catch him engaged in a criminal act. Therefore I can’t have you blowing their cover.”

“With all due respect,” she said—police manners— “you and your cops have no clue about what’s really going on in that room. And if you don’t want to blow their cover, why bring a whole assault squad and park them on the block in question? You don’t think anybody inside might hear that?”