Michael

sixteen

"Ruth needs an ambulance, Michael."

"So call one." Michael didn't take his eyes off his father.

"You're wasting your time, Elizabeth," said Gabriel. "Your friend will die before anyone can get here. I made sure of it when I realised I was about to be rudely interrupted."

"She's still conscious," snapped Liz, "and I never said you could use my name."

Gabriel shrugged. "Of course Ruth is conscious, I prefer it that way. Where's the fun otherwise?"

Liz sucked in a stunned, infuriated breath. Michael spoke before she could rip into Gabriel, "How did you know we were coming here?"

It was an important question. For the life of him, Michael couldn't understand how anyone could have anticipated this move.

"I didn't. I wish I could say otherwise. I had my own reasons for being here."

"And those were?"

Gabriel's grin was swift and feral. "My business."

"Gunshots will bring the Militia here," Liz warned. She was crouched on the floor next to Ruth with a cell phone in her hand. "If they see the two of you together the game is up, Gabriel. The same goes for the ambulance crew."

"Sounds good to me," added Michael, silkily. "Shall we try it and see?"

Fury tightened Gabriel's features. His finger flexed on the big pistol's trigger. Then the temper smoothed out of his face. "Certainly, as long as I get to shoot first."

Vampires preferred close-quarters combat over guns for many reasons. First and foremost, a bullet's trajectory was visible and, therefore, predictable to vampires. Plus, supernatural speed made the bullet easy to dodge. You'd have to have the barrel jammed into a vampire's face or body to be sure of hitting your target. Gabriel knew this. Liz was human, though. Michael saw the flare of the gas igniting, and the bullet emerging from the barrel.

He fired as well, pumping the trigger three times in quick succession. The first round caught Gabriel's in mid-air, before it could reach Liz; the second and third missed Gabriel himself.

His father got off two more rounds. Michael caught another one, but the second got through. The sound of multiple gunshots was deafening. His ears were ringing. He moved just as Liz screamed. Blood flowered on Michael's sweater.

He'd stepped into the bullet's path.

Agony ripped into his abdomen. He returned fire, pumping the trigger twice more, blasting through the doorframe to slam into Gabriel's shoulder as he exited. Blood sprayed across the cream paint of the vestibule. Gabriel disappeared from view, diving through the front door and back out into the corridor.

Liz screamed Michael's name. He heard her as if through a tunnel. His senses swam under the avalanche of pain.

He forced himself to focus by sheer dint of will.

"Stay down!" Damn it! The fire fight had taken perhaps twenty seconds, maximum. Now his guts were spilling out from a hole the size of his fist, Gabriel was out of sight, and there was nothing he could use as a barricade for the two women if the asshole came back for a second round.

He hated guns.

Michael staggered as the pain in his abdomen surged. Liz ignored his demand and lurched to her feet, gripping him around his back and trying to steady his weight. "Michael, you're hit!"

"So's Gabriel." Michael managed to find his balance and avoid taking them both crashing to the floor. He kept the pistol trained on the doorway. Not that it'd do any good. The smell of blood was too strong for him to catch a trace of Gabriel, and Liz's heartbeat was thundering in his ears. His concentration kept fading in and out, too, as the pain hit him in waves.