Hard Bitten (Chicagoland Vampires 4) - Page 43

I muttered a curse. They were acting like the rave vamps had acted - trigger-happy and angerprone - and they had the same enlarged irises.

My stomach sank in warning, and I feared the worst. Was this the next stage of a vampire mass hysteria?

I gave Dreadlocks a shot to the neck that cut off some oxygen and put him out on the floor.

Unfortunately, by the time I made it to my feet again, a dozen more vamps had succumbed to whatever ailed them. Furious fists and insults were hurled around, the vamps pounding at one another as if their lives - and not a cheap glass of cheaper alcohol - were on the line.

The irritation spread like a virus. Each vamp that lashed out and inadvertently bumped another started a second round, and the violence rippled through the crowd accordingly.

With no better option than to jump into the fray, I looked at Lindsey, shared a nod of agreement with her, and made my move. My goal wasn't to win the fight, but to separate the fighters. I began by jumping between the two closest to me. I took a punch in the shoulder for my trouble, but managed to rip the two vamps away from each other. I tossed them in opposite directions and headed for the next pair.

Lindsey did the same, hopping over the bar - spilling the rainbow drinks in the process - and pulling vamps apart.

Unfortunately, they weren't willing to go.

Whatever had possessed them took them over, kept them raking their nails at one another, eager to continue a fight over nothing substantial.

Fortunately, the ones who weren't affected - a handful of men and women that I'd seen around the House - helped us separate the contenders.

We became a team. Fighting against our own, unfortunately, but still fighting for the good of the cause.

I appreciated the effort, even if it wasn't enough. With each pair I separated, another seemed to pop up, until the swell of fighting vampires crashed through the door to the bar.

Over the background roar of brawling, I could hear the nearing wail of sirens. Someone had called the cops about the fight. This was about to get even uglier; it was time for a new plan.

I glanced around, looking for Lindsey, and found her at my left, dragging a squalling vampire by the ankle.

"Lindsey, I'm going to get the humans out of the bar!" I yelled, pushing one vamp off me and turning to avoid another's boot stomp.

Cops wouldn't be thrilled if vamps were fighting other vamps, but they'd be downright pissed if humans got caught in the cross fire.

With Tate already on the warpath, I'm not sure we could make it through that kind of scandal with the House intact, much less without a receiver.

"I'm on my way," she replied, dumping her vamp a few tables away. Another Cadogan vamp took over for her, holding that vamp back while she rushed back to me and yanked back the vamp who'd tried to kick me into submission.

"You're a doll," I told her, hurdling a knot of wrestling vampires as I ran for the door. I started by building a vamp chute by grabbing the nearest table and sliding it toward the door. Three more made a faux retaining wall between the exit and the rest of the bar, which kept the fighting vamps corralled and gave the humans a clear path.

I looked back at the crowd, and first spied a couple squeezed back into a booth, eyes wide. I ran to them, hustled them to their feet, and pointed them toward the now partially secured exit.

"Out that way," I said, and as they headed for the door, I rounded up the rest of them. The humans were pretty easy to spot. The few vamps who hadn't been affected by the violence were trying to help; the humans mostly cowered, probably shocked by the violence and trying to stay out of the way. I located as many as I could and sent them toward the door, police sirens getting louder as they ran outside.

When I'd cleared out the last of the humans, I moved to the door and found the street awash in blue and red lights as humans ran from the bar like hostages released from a bank robbery.

Cops began to emerge from their vehicles, and I began to fear the worst - that we'd all be arrested for inciting public mayhem. Of course, that would make Tate's arrest-warrant threat moot.

I moved slowly toward the sidewalk, not eager to be shot by cops who thought I was an emerging perp. Adrenaline began to pulse again as I prepared to face round two - the aftermath.

But when a familiar Oldsmobile rolled to the curb, I breathed a sigh of relief.

My grandfather stepped out of the car's passenger side, wearing khaki-colored pants and a butter yellow, short-sleeved button-down shirt.

Jeff stepped out of the backseat, and Catcher popped out of the driver's side in a dark T-shirt advertising "Bang Bang Home Repair." His wearables might have been kitschy, but his expression was all business.

The three of them nodded at the cops they passed. I walked their way.

"Problems?"

"Violence," I said. "Lindsey was mixing drinks at the bar, and the vamps started fighting over who was going to get which drink. The aggression spread like a virus after that."

"Same thing you saw at the rave?" Catcher asked, and I nodded my agreement.

"Looks like it. Something in the air, maybe, or slipped into their drinks? I don't know." I gestured to the cluster of humans. "We got the humans out of the bar, but things are still tense inside. They're still going at it, and pulling them off each other hasn't really worked."

"How'd you get them calm at the rave?" Jeff asked.

"We didn't. We basically faked a fire alarm and fled the scene. Since it didn't make the news, I assumed they'd calmed down on their own."

A bar table suddenly flew through the open doorway and crashed on the sidewalk outside, rolling to a stop at the front tire of one of the CPD cruisers.

"We may not have that kind of time," Catcher said.

"Get in there," my grandfather prompted, gesturing to get the attention of one of the CPD cops. They exchanged some sort of secret cop code, the other officers standing down while Catcher jogged toward the bar and disappeared inside.

It was only a moment before Lindsey and the rest of the nonfighting vamps were jogging out onto the sidewalk. Colin was last in line, a dour expression on his face.

"What's Catcher going to - " was all I managed to get out before the bar went silent. No more crashing glass, no more screamed epithets, no more flat pops of flesh against flesh.

Although I knew it probably wasn't possible, my first thought was that Catcher had somehow taken out every vamp in the bar with his mad fighting skills. But Jeff leaned in with a more likely answer.

"Magic," he whispered. "Catcher got the happy vamps out of the bar. That gave him room to work the Keys on the rest of them."

Tags: Chloe Neill Chicagoland Vampires Vampires
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