I turned, muttering, "Shit," under my breath. I couldn't see over the top of the SUV. I rushed around the front of it, gun still at my shoulder. Edward was on the ground shooting up at the figure above him. I had time to register that he wasn't shooting him in the chest, but the legs, and I knew why I had no body in the road. Vests. They were wearing bulletproof vests. Shit. But one thing I knew was that even if a bullet didn't go through, it still hurt, so I aimed at the middle body mass, using the shots to force him back away from Edward. The shots staggered him, and then he was moving away from Edward, away from me into the trees, but he wasn't moving in that blur of speed. He was fast, but not super-fast. He wasn't much faster than human. Edward rolled onto his stomach and kept shooting. The Harlequin started using the trees for cover. He was hurt. Good.
I felt something behind me, and threw myself toward the ground before I'd finished turning around. I hit the ground harder than I wanted, but I was aiming up, and got one shot off before my eyes registered the masked figure in front of me. The shot went wild, and then he was simply gone, moving in that blur of speed that I'd seen at the hotel.
There were more shots from across the road and men yelling. The other police had joined the party. I turned onto my stomach and found the slight curve of the ditch blocking my view. I had to get to one knee before I could look into the trees and the shadows that were filling them up. There was nothing to shoot at; they were out of sight, but one was wounded. The question was, how hurt was he?
Edward was on his feet; I climbed up the other side of the ditch to stay by his side. He had his gun up and ready and was moving in that shuffling, bent-legged walk that most of the special forces and especially SWAT used. It was supposed to help you move well, but keep you as steady as possible for shooting. I'd never been trained, but I'd grown up in the woods, and hunting. I knew how to move in trees.
I heard the other police behind us, crashing through the trees like a herd of elephants. I knew they weren't actually that loud, but they seemed thunderous behind us, so that the noise seemed to make it even harder to search the shadowed trees for the Harlequin, as if the noise masked everything. I fought the urge to turn and yell at them to be quiet.
"Cover me," Edward said.
I moved until I was almost over him, looking out into the ever thickening shadows as he knelt down. "Blood," he said.
I glanced at him, still trying to keep a peripheral sense of the trees and the growing darkness under the trees. There was more light on the road behind us, but here in the thick trees night would come early.
"You wounded them?" This from Tilford, as he came up on the other side of Edward. He had his own M4 pointed out into the trees.
I said, "Yes."
Edward said, "We follow the blood trail."
"It'll be dark soon," Tilford said.
Edward stood up. "It will."
Newman was with us now. "I've never seen anything move that fast."
"We need them dead before full dark," I said, and was already moving through the trees.
"Why?" Newman asked.
"Because the vampires will rise," Edward said.
"How do you know there will be vampires?" Newman asked.
Tilford answered, "Wereanimals don't wear masks and cloaks. They don't sneak around. They just attack. The only thing that makes them behave like this is a vampire master. Night means we get to meet their masters, and I'd rather the shifters be dead before we have the vampires to deal with."
Edward and I exchanged a quick look. We both thought better of Tilford in that moment. I said, "What he said."
We followed the blood trail in the ever-growing dark. We followed the fresh blood even though every molecule in my body was screaming for me to run. Run before dark. Run before the vampires came. Run. But I didn't run, and neither did the other marshals. We followed the trail, because that was our job. We followed the trail because if they got away and killed more people, none of us wanted to look down at the body and explain why we'd let shadows and maybe a threat of vampires scare us off. We were U.S. Marshals. We hunted and killed the monsters. We did not run from them.
Chapter Twenty
IT GOT DARK enough that Edward and Tilford turned on the flashlights that were attached to the barrels of their M4s. It was a mixed blessing. It allowed us to follow the blood trail but ruined our night vision. I finally kept my gaze away from the lights. One of us needed to be able to see what the deepening shadows might hold. Following the blood trail was important, but if the Harlequin that were bleeding found us first, there'd be more blood, and some of it would likely be ours. Was that pessimistic, or realistic? I had trouble telling sometimes.
Newman followed me ahead into the creeping gloom. "Do you see something?"
"Not yet."
"Saving your night vision from the lights?"
That made me glance at him. "Yes, how'd you know?"
"I was raised in the country. I'm okay in the dark most nights."
"Me, too," I said.
"Country girl?"
"Something like that."
"I'd have pegged you for a city girl," he said. All the time we talked we looked out into the coming dark, searching the trees for movement. He had his gun at his shoulder just like I did. I was beginning to like Newman and I didn't want to, because I'd liked Karlton and now she was in the hospital breathing with help. The shapeshifter had collapsed one of her lungs. They were waiting to see if her body would heal it without operating. If she had caught some version of lycanthropy then she'd heal as good as new, so they waited. The waiting meant they thought her blood tests were going to come back contaminated with the virus. With deep puncture wounds, lycanthropy was usually a given.