After long discussion, we agree that most of the girls should go back to the hospital to get Nick away from Jilly, or Jilly away from Nick, whichever they think is most feasible. I don’t want them near Sageman unless or until things get out of hand.
If I do holler for help, they’re to bring their skates. Because he can read thoughts, they’ll need speed, and they’ll need the automatic action strategies that come from training, not thoughts. He won’t know what to make of thoughts like “waterfall” or “popcorn,” even if he can read them.
I leave them planning this whole elaborate cataract of change-ups where two of them will go in to assess the situation, and if the first strategy doesn’t work, three more will come in and try the second strategy, blah blah.
They’re having a ball.
In the Scion with me now are Fist Kist and Donna Draper. We park a block away from where Katterfelto buried the coin. We can’t quite see the empty parking lot under the power towers, beside the abandoned factory.
My emotions have gelled.
I have three missions.
One, get Katterfelto out of Sageman’s hands.
Two, keep the coin away from Sageman or die trying.
Three, die anyway. Knowing this is on the agenda frees me from the stifling despair and rage and self-loathing that have cast a cloud over my life.
I don’t want to think about what Jilly said to Nick. I’ve put a wall around that memory.
I used to wonder how I would kill myself, or even if I could die at all. Now I don’t have to worry. Somebody else’s problem.
Surely Sageman has more hinky powers that can hurt me. If nothing else, he can shoot me eleven times, and if nobody comes near enough to me that I can take their prana, I’ll die.
Whew.
Donna is eyeing me with worry. “You’re mighty quiet, Hélan.”
“Let’s gear up,” I say.
We get our skates and pads on.
As we roll toward the coin’s parking lot, I spot Sageman’s Suburban and swear. “He’s here already.”
We sneak up on the Suburban. Sageman isn’t in it — but Katterfelto is, tied up and lying in the back.
This solves my biggest worry, which is keeping my teammates away from Sageman as long as possible. That bastard is dangerous.
I say, “See if you can get Dr. Katterfelto out of there. If you set off an alarm, great. Maybe it’ll draw Sageman back here. But stay out of his sight as long as you can.”
I also warn them that Sageman can read thoughts, although what good that can possibly do them I have no idea. It certainly didn’t protect me.
And of course I’m too late.
As I come rolling into the abandoned parking lot, I see Sageman. He’s in the blue zone. The blue isn’t as bright today — because it’s sunnier? Sageman is standing at the foot of the power tower with a spade in his hand. He’s in the act of bending over to reach into the hole he has made in the crumbled asphalt. I guess he hears my wheels.
He looks over his shoulder.
I think about how I’m going to kill him. Hit him broadside into the tower’s steel leg? Try and strangle him again? Or just tackle him and hold on, until I can suck him dry?
His eyes are blank as I accelerate toward him. He doesn’t stop rummaging in the asphalt, though his head is turned to me. He begins to rise and turn toward me as I approach.
I come barreling up and crash right into him, knocking him over, and as I do, something stabs me deeply in the side, between my lower ribs.
Son of a bitch! He’s staked me!
If I was one of his comic-book vampires, this would have killed me outright. Unfortunately it just hurts like a mother. I grab the stake in both hands. That hurts, too. I think I’m swearing.
Sageman bends over me, driving the stake farther into me, and I kick out weakly, blind with pain. My skate fails to connect.
Calmly he rolls me onto my side. What the—? I feel his hands warm on my back. I focus hard on sucking his energy through that contact. But he’s already gone, taking his warm, sticky, stinky, life-giving energy with him.
I lie there, cursing my stupidity and trying to think past the pain.
This is what you wanted, you idiot. Death and-slash-or dishonor. Ass. Fool. Clown. Moron. Does it hurt enough yet, you completely wet turkey-turd brainless dope?
It hurts so much I’m forgetting my swearwords.
It becomes apparent to me that I don’t want to die, here and now, at the hands of this creep.
I roll onto my back, not without excruciating pain.
Sageman is standing well out of my reach. My fanny pack is dangling by its looped strap from his elbow. He is bent over something cupped in his two hands. His face is alight with unholy triumph.
The coin.
Dammit.
Now I know I can’t die yet.
I take as much breath as the agony in my side allows, grab the stake with both hands, and yank it out. Cold and heat rush in where the stake was, along with a blessed fading of the pain. I’m going into shock. This is probably not good.
I throw the stake at Sageman.
It bounces right off him.
He looks up from gloating over the coin. “I am invulnerable to all missiles, stabbing, fists, or blunt instruments.”
“Yeah?” I wheeze. Ow, that hurts. I have both hands over the hole in my side, pressing back the blood, which is all over the asphalt.
Sageman tut-tuts. “When I performed that protection spell, I forgot strangulation. I must thank you. I’ll have to add it next time.”
I can’t speak, but I picture ripping his head off and lobbing it through the windshield of his Suburban.
He steps forward. I can tell he’s going to kick me in the side. Yup. I focus on his foot, and, when it comes close enough, I take as big a hit as I can of his prana. Then the shoe makes contact.
I lose interest in other things.
Sageman leaps smartly away from me. I hear his phone ring. “Here,” I hear him gasp.
I hear Nick’s voice coming from the phone. “I have secured the grandmother.”
Oh, no.
Guess my girls didn’t get there in time.
I crawl toward the base of the nearest power tower leg and lean against it, feeling dangerously detached from things like my bleeding body.
Then I feel the point of something hard and sharp against my temple. Sageman’s stake. I can smell my blood on it.
Sageman says breathlessly, “Stay there. I may need you to terminate her very quickly.”
I’m wondering if I can reach up along the stake he’s touching to my temple and suck more energy out of him.
The stake goes away.
Sageman stands in front of me.
“Thought reading, remember?” he says. That creepy, gloaty tone is back in his voice. Swear to god, this guy doesn’t know how repulsive he is.
“How did you become a vampire?”
Oh shit! Now he’s going to read my mind! I try to think about something else, like how I’m going to protect my mother if I bleed to death here.
He whacks my head casually with the thick end of the stake, and I see stars. “How did you become a vampire?”
He keeps whacking me. I swear, the question is like the reverberation of a bell, only the bell is my head, whack! “How did you become a vampire?” Whack! And stars burst in my head, and I am not saying it out loud, but it’s as if my brain is rolling the memory up, like a dead body floating up in a pond. Whack! “How did you become a vampire?” Whack! Of its own accord, the whole story passes through my mind.
And now he knows.
I feel like a prize ass.
Cars are squealing down the street, which is odd, considering how abandoned this area is.
Sageman stands a few feet away, no doubt gloating over getting my vampire story out of me after all.
I hurt all over. I decide I was an idiot to consider this a good suicide mission. No mission is a good suicide mission. In fact, Sageman and his stake have pretty much ruined the appeal of death.
Sageman goes into mental conference with the coin. In my own head, I can hear it whispering to him, tempting him.
what do you want? I can give you anything.
If I were just a foot closer, I could suck some prana off him. Maybe get the strength to move. But he stands out of my reach.
“Better think it through, Sageman,” I say quietly. “If you mess it up, you’ll end up miserable, like me.”
He seems to think. Then he lifts his head. The coin’s whispering stops.
“Really? How would you have done it differently?” Sageman says.
“I don’t know.” My eyes drift shut. I remember that Nick stands ready to terminate the grandmother and I open them again. “I suck at all that magic stuff. But I know this. Nobody wants to be a vampire. You just want something you think vampires have.”
He stands motionless. “Good point. Let us bring expert opinion to bear on the question,” as if this is a meeting he’s chairing. “Jones, go to my car and bring Dr. Katterfelto to me.”
The world is going gray, like an old TV sitcom. I squint, thinking, His hands are cupped around the coin — how can he also be on the phone to Nick?
Then a big dark shape blots out the sun and Sageman slams to the ground beside me. The coin falls and rolls past my left skate.
Nick stands over Sageman, and me, his fists at his sides.
“Are you okay?” Nick says to me.
I want to point out my blood, all over the asphalt at his feet. Instead I say, “How did you do that? He can’t be punched.”
“Shoulder,” Nick says. “Get up,” he says to Sageman.
Sageman sees the coin rolling away and lunges after it. Nick puts his foot on Sageman’s wrist. I watch Sageman’s hand close on the coin. The whispering in my head starts up again.
Then Nick falls heavily on the old man.
I hear a couple of bones crack.
Didn’t remember to armor yourself against body-blows, either, did you? I think, knowing Sageman can hear my thoughts, hoping to distract him.
Sageman’s eyes are shut tight. I bet he’s making his wish.
Nick lifts him easily by the scruff of his collar and slams him against the power tower leg.
Something comes whirring out of the blazing sun behind me.
Blam! I hear another body blow.
Nick grunts and totters.
Sageman gives a whimper of triumph. I see two of him, and two of Nick, and then darkness.