Dark Road Rising

Chapter 2

  HE had an arm like a train. All the breath shot out of me. I folded and staggered and kept my feet only by grabbing the stair rail with one flailing hand. It wasn't as bad as it might have been for anyone else. I didn't want a second helping, though.

  Coldfield's dark face was darker than normal, suffused with barely controlled rage. "You know why I'm here," he rumbled. Volcanoes reach that kind of deep pitch before they blow.

  Took an experimental sip of air for speech. "Oh, yeah. "

  "Why the hell did you do that to him?"

  "How'd you-"

  "I got people who work at the hospital. One of them saw Charles brought in looking like he'd been worked over by a bulldozer and called me. They wouldn't let me see him. Took one look and knew I wasn't a relation. I tracked down the ambulance drivers and got them to talk. What the hell did you do?"

  I'd grown a thick hide over my ability to feel guilt over some of the more objectionable things I'd done in life, but it was no protection now. I was in the wrong, and there were consequences to face.

  "Charles and I had a fight-"

  "The hell you did! What about?"

  The words got stuck long before the halfway mark. The situation was edging close to being a reprise of my fight with Escott. Sweat popped out on my flanks.

  "What?"

  I shook my head. There was no way I could tell Coldfield what I'd done that had infuriated Escott enough to beat the crap out of me-and then my going bughouse-crazy out of control and returning the favor. All I could do was thank God that I'd stopped short of murder. I couldn't remember much about the fight, but the aftermath was clear and sharp, especially those frozen-in-lead moments when I thought Escott was dead.

  "What?" Coldfield loomed again.

  "Charles was pissed with me about something and we got into it. It's not important now. " Favoring my middle, I straightened, knowing what was coming. No way out.

  "Goddammit, you put him in the hospital!" Coldfield piled in a rain of gut-busters, grunting from the effort. He was in on my secret. Had been for a while. He also knew about the ugly business with Hog Bristow, what the bastard had done to me. For all that, Coldfield didn't pull a single punch.

  And I took it.

  He finally knocked me ass flat on the floor. I stayed there, not quite keeling over.

  "Talk to me, you sonovabitch!"

  He wasn't going away. Come sunrise he'd probably continue beating on my apparently dead body to make sure I had more damage than Escott.

  I raised one hand in surrender. Seemed like too much trouble to stand. He'd just put me back again. It hurt to draw breath to speak. Took a minute to get enough air inside to do the job. "Look. . . you once socked him for his own good. . . didn't you? You got fed up?"

  Coldfield nodded slowly. "What about it?"

  "This time it was my turn. He did his damnedest to pound some sense into me. Nearly took my block off. "

  "You don't look it. "

  "I heal fast, remember?"

  "And then what?"

  "I wouldn't listen. So Charles kept at me. . . until I hit him. That's where the ambulance came in. I'm sorry, Shoe. I didn't mean for it to go that way. I'd take it back if I could. "

  "You can't. "

  Bowed my head. "No. I can't. "

  He made no comment, but I could still feel his anger. He wanted to hurt me and make it last.

  I used the stair rail to pull to my feet. Damn, but he'd caught me good and hard, without brass knuckles, either. If he was like that with bare fists. . .

  He laid in again with enough force so I'd remember not to forget. I dropped all the way, curled, and stayed there, gasping. Pain. More than I expected. Wouldn't be surprised if he'd ruptured something. I wouldn't vanish to escape and heal, though. That'd be spitting in his face. I'd take what he dished out and like it.

  He stooped into my view and his voice went low, and for a chilling instant I glimpsed what was inside him that made him the boss of one of the toughest mobs in the city. "You ever cut loose on Charles again, I will kill you. " He knew exactly how to do it, too.

  I believed him.

  "We clear on that? You understand me?"

  "Yeah," I said, talking sideways because my mouth was mashed against the floor. "Never again. Promise. "

  Coldfield left, slamming the door hard enough to shake the house. A moment later he gunned his car, shifted gears, and roared away.

  Good thing he was a friend or we might have both been in trouble. I don't take this kind of crap from enemies.

  Another moment or three passed, then the stairs creaked as Kroun came down. He squatted on his heels next to me, hands clasped loose in front of him, and tilted his head. "You okay?"

  Now that was one goddamned stupid question. And he wasn't a stupid man. I eyed him. He was concerned, just not one for mother-henning. "I'm great. Tomorrow I sell tickets to the real show. "

  "Huh. " He got the message. It was none of his beeswax, but he almost smiled. "And he knows about you, too?"

  "Yeah. "

  "F'cryin' out loud, put it on a billboard, why don't ya?"

  "Okay. "

  A moderately long look from him, followed by a dismis sive headshake. "I can't find soap. "

  Soap? While I got pulped he was looking for soap? What kind of a loon was he?

  "Try the second-floor bath," I mumbled.

  His eyes went wide. "You got two johns in this joint?" My getting a beating was nothing to sweat about, but a house with two toilets knocked him right over.

  Actually there were three. Escott had put in a bath all to himself just off his bedroom, which was overdoing things, but it was his house, after all. I didn't say anything as Kroun was already impressed, and mention of more would be pretentious. As a kid back on the farm in Ohio, I'd been told not to brag about our three-seater outhouse lest the neighbors think the Flemings were getting high-hat above themselves with extravagance.

  "What was his problem?" Kroun asked, rising as I slowly found my feet again.

  I checked my middle. Carefully. Oh, yeah, that hurt. A lot. At least Coldfield hadn't used wood. A baseball bat would have done some truly life-threatening damage on me, but then I'd have fought back. "Nothing to worry about. "

  "I'm not, but why'd you let him do it?"

  "He had to work off steam. And he had a point to make. That was my way of listening. "

  Kroun thought that over, looking at me the whole time. "You," he concluded, "are crazy. "

  No reason to deny it. Tonight I happened to agree with him.

  "Who was he? Looked familiar. "

  "Shoe Coldfield. Heads the biggest gang in the Bronze Belt. He's best friends with Escott. He was in that grocery store we walked through to visit Gordy the other night. You may have seen him there. "

  "Gordy said Coldfield was looking out for him. What's the angle?"

  "It never hurts to have someone like Gordy owe you a favor. "

  "So I've heard. Is that what this is about? You wanting me to owe you a favor?"

  "Huh?"

  He stared a second. "Ahh, never mind. " He went upstairs, dodging into the hall bath long enough to grab soap from the sink, then continuing up to the third floor. Soon water was running in the pipes, making its long journey up from the basement heater tank.

  When I felt like moving again, I checked my ribs, but Coldfield had focused on the softer target of my midsection. He'd inflicted ample bruising and spared his knuckles. The man was a smart thinker when it came to his brand of mayhem. Everything still hurt, and I stubbornly held on to it as though that would somehow help Escott.

  I hobbled into the kitchen to blink at the clock. If he rushed things, Kroun could get cleaned up and make it to bed before dawn. I could take my time.

  I made sure the front door was bolted, checked the back again just because, then vanished, sinking down through the kitchen floor. Once solid again in my hidden
alcove the bruising and pain were magically gone, but I was tired, very tired.

  The small table light next to my cot was on, so I didn't reappear in fumbling blackness. I'm a vampire who's gotten really allergic to the dark. I didn't used to be that way; but, after the crap I'd been through since my change, anyone would want to leave a lamp burning in the window.

  No windows were in my artificial cave, but that was fine, what with my allergy to sunlight. Kroun had a right to be concerned about avoiding it, but he could manage. Things had to be a lot better for him in this place than wherever he'd hidden after the big boom. Did he have a supply of his home earth with him? I'd not thought to ask.

  Damn, I didn't want to think about him and what to do with him