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All right, points for effort, I thought, watching the truck’s rear wheels burn rubber on the sidewalk, kicking up a cloud of smoke as they tried to shove the bulky back end the rest of the way through the opening. But I didn’t see how that was going to—
And then it exploded.
Okay, yeah. That’s better, I thought, ducking behind the Dumpster to avoid the mass of flaming flying debris that was currently lighting up half the block. Marlowe said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears—and the blaring siren, which was somehow still going. “What?”
“In or out?” he yelled, holding out a hand.
What the hell. “In.” And the next thing I knew, we were flying down the sidewalk, past a burning vamp running the other way, up some shallow stairs and through a fiery hole that used to be the doorway.
And straight into a wall of smoke. The damned truck must have been loaded with gasoline, because the whole lobby was burning. Not that I could see much of it, but the heat was phenomenal and there was virtually no breathable air.
Of course, that last didn’t bother the vamps lunging at us through the clouds. They looked like something out of a nightmare: just dark, smoldering outlines and glowing eyes. But it didn’t look like they’d been hurt too badly, because three jumped Marlowe, and a bunch more surged past us to attack his boys coming in the front door.
I was starting to feel neglected when an iron hand closed around my wrist.
I clamped my own hand down over it, wrenched up the thumb and twisted sharply, until there was a grunt and the thud of knees hitting tile. I looked down to see a confused vamp staring up at me. He wasn’t one of the str
onger ones, maybe sixth-level at a guess, which was why he’d decided to be brave and jump the human. His eyes went from his broken hand to me and back again, as if he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stand.
Until I helped him out, by baring baby fangs.
His eyes widened, and when I let him go, he scrambled away without even standing up—straight through a wall of glass.
And then Marlowe grabbed my hand and we were off again.
We ran through the wreck of the front desk, past a wall with assorted truck parts sticking out of it, down a hall and into an elevator that was just opening. A confused young couple got off, only to hesitate at the sight of the inferno behind us. “Get them out!” Marlowe snapped, confusing me for a moment, until I noticed that one of his boys was right on our heels.
And then we were inside and off.
“How do I look?” Marlowe demanded, slinging a borrowed tie around his neck.
“Like hell,” I choked. Between smoke and powdered drywall, we were both pretty grimy.
I started to hit the stop button, but he grabbed my wrist. “No time.”
“Well, we can’t…go in there…like this,” I gasped, and then coughed again to clear my lungs. “Not if the idea is to grab Slava without anybody noticing.”
“It is.” Marlowe brushed down his coat savagely. “The bastard has too many prominent guests. A few of the wrong people get caught in the cross fire and the fallout won’t be pretty.”
“Well, right now neither are we.”
“Do the best you can,” he told me stubbornly. “If I’d known he was likely to run, I’d have set this up differently. But we’re stuck with it now.”
“Maybe not. If he doesn’t have a portal, he’s trapped. We could—”
“There are other ways out than a portal!”
“Such as?”
“Such as the helicopter he called for five minutes ago.”
“And how do you know that?”
He just tapped an ear before bending over and shaking both hands through his curly mop, sending dust flying everywhere—including all over me. But I didn’t take time to bitch, since I assumed that the ear thing meant he’d bugged Slava’s place at some point. Which reminded me.
I needed to check the kitchen when I got home.
I repaired the damage as best I could with only the shiny metal doors for a mirror. Luckily, the dust didn’t stick to the slick material any more than the trash had. Damn, I needed to get me some of this.
