As if to make his point, my enhanced hearing picks uprunning velvet footsteps upstairs. A lot of them. I suppose we haven’t exactly been quiet down here.
I dash over to Rafa and shake his shoulders. “Rafa! Rafa! Wake up!”
His father pounded his head like a pile driver, so I’m not shocked to find his dense, muscular frame just flops, limp, in my hands. Icy terror trickles into my sides as I realize I might be completely on my own here. I glance over at the backpack, wondering if there’s any way to Molotov cocktail my way out of here without killing all of us, including the kids. (Bet not!) But then those superior Hunter genetics must kick in, because Rafa’s eyes flutter and open.
“Alvin?” He tries to focus on me.
“Vampires coming! A lot of them!”
My words are like a splash of cold water. In the space of a few seconds, he’s pushed me out of the way and is on his feet—unsteady, but definitely awake. Then he sees his father on his back a few yards away, staring blankly at the ceiling, charcoal smoke rising up from his chest. A stink of acrid, burnt hair permeates the room. The suit is scorched and black. His whole body is badly charred.
The vampire’s fingers twitch. Down, but not dead. (Or noteven moredead, anyway.)
Rafa picks up the sharp stake he dropped, eyes still on his father. “The lock?” His face is cold, but I hear raspy emotion in his voice.
“I couldn’t finish,” I say, my own words low and rough.
We turn at the same time to Emma. She’s back curled up on her cot, arms tight around her knees again, staringat the side of her cell, looking even more miserable than we found her. She knows she’s not getting saved.
Collin leans into my field of view, serious and haunted. “Alvin, I’m sorry, but we are out of time. You’ll be no good to any of these kids if those vampires get their hands on you!”
The Hunter squeezes his stake, now standing above the smoking monster on the floor. I step up to him.
“Spirits say we gotta go.” I force the statement out. I don’t want it to be true. But there has to be something we can salvage from this disaster. “If nothing else, we need to tell people what we’ve seen here… right?”
We both stand frozen for a moment, then Rafa nods. “Right. Let’s move.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and starts to firmly and quickly guide me toward the door, like when we first met. He leaves his father on the ground, untouched.
Then I remember.
“The book!” I slip out of Rafa’s grip and run back to grab it from in front of the redheaded boy’s cell. I can’t help glancing up when I get there. The kid’s right above me, fingers wrapped around the iron, eyes pleading.
“Please… Don’t go… Don’t leave me here…” he says. It’s barely a whisper. And it’s like a scalpel slipping right into my heart.
I grab the book and turn away.
The blue glow immediately blooms out from its cover as I grip the leather in my fingertips. Vampire Dad startles, still splayed out on the floor.
“You,” it says, its neck craning up, its blackened face incredulous. “You carry the watch?!”
I’m caught in his furious glare. The rest of its body remains fixed, but it trembles with effort, struggling to rise.
Collin snaps me out of my fear paralysis. “Vamps now in the elevator!”
“Right!” I say and pull my shit together. Even scarier monsters are on the way!
I run back to Rafa, who is standing in the doorway, fixated on his father. I can’t tell if it’s horror or fury I’m seeing. He’s swapped his wooden stake for his shotgun, slightly raised, his right hand squeezing the pistol grip.
Then he abruptly turns.
“This way!” he barks. The shotgun sweeps over his father, but he doesn’t fire. Instead, Rafa charges into the hall and, gripping the book under my arm, I stumble after him as best I can.
I don’t look back at the kids. I just can’t.
By the time I’m out the door, Rafa is almost a quarter of the way down the hallway. He’s tons faster than my unfed, out-of-shape human body. Light from the elevator knifes into the corridor, and two vampires emerge. There’s a tall biker-looking dude in full leather and a woman in what appears to be some kind of ballgown. Without even breaking stride, Rafa snaps up his long gun one-handed to blast both center-forehead with two deafening roars, and that’s all it takes—they are done.
My ears ring from the shots, but somehow, I can still hear the sound of someone or something desperately trying to press one of the buttons in the elevator. Apparently, just like the Spanish Inquisition, no oneexpects an armed Monster Hunter in their basement. The current occupant is looking to make a quick exit.
