Vampire Zero (Laura Caxton, #3)(47)

She stopped herself, tried not to breathe too hard, and listened.

There—she heard it again. Was it a cry of pain, or just terror? She couldn’t be sure. It seemed to come from a room closer by, this time. She tensed herself, closed her eyes, and—yes, there. Sprinting down the hall, she turned a corner and found herself in another almost lightless hallway, this one, like the other, lined with the narrow doorways that led to the girls’ rooms. What would she do if she found Jameson inside one of the rooms, tearing somebody to pieces? She would shoot, of course, but would it do any good? She had fired into his heart at point-?blank range and achieved nothing. What made her think it would be different this time? Yet she had no idea what else to do.

It was no time to think of such things, she told herself. She forced herself to concentrate, to listen again for the cry. She had no choice. This was what she was pledged to do, to protect people from the vampires. Clamping her eyes shut, she put every ounce of her attention into her ears.

“Oh my God,” she heard—a sound of desperation.

She rushed forward, into the dark. Her rubber-?soled shoes slapped on the flagstone floor and she wondered if Jameson could hear her coming. The cry was louder now, and it came repeatedly—“Oh my God” this time it was nearly a sigh, and then she heard it again, much louder—“No way!”

She stood outside the door she was certain was the source of the cries. Her weapon up and ready, she reached forward to touch the doorknob, to throw back the door and confront whatever was inside. Something bugged her about the sound, though. It wasn’t a fearful shriek at all. It was more like—

“You’re so dead,” someone said from behind the door.

Caxton knocked the door in with her shoulder. It wasn’t locked.

Inside sat six girls with their knees up on the two pallets, looking terrified. One of them held a cheap flashlight that gave off less light than the coal stove.

On the floor between the pallets lay a pile of very old, very tattered magazines. They’d been glossy once, and were folded open to pictures of various movie stars. Brad Pitt. Angelina Jolie. Tom Cruise. One of the girls was holding a lit cigarette as if it were a joint.

“Please, no,” one of the girls whispered. She had a lipstick on her mouth and she hurriedly smeared the back of her hand across her lips, trying to rub it off. “Please don’t say anything. Oh, please. We’ll get in so much trouble—”

Caxton stepped back out into the hallway and pulled the door shut again. From inside she could hear desperate whispers shooting back and forth.

Shaking her head, taking her time, Caxton worked her way back toward Raleigh’s room. It had not been what she’d thought at all. She’d been so primed and ready for a vampire attack that any sound would have alerted her. Now she wondered if Jameson was nearby at all. He could be miles away. He could be up at Syracuse.

That thought gave her a shiver. Or maybe it was just the frigid air in the convent. She rubbed at her own arms, and then swung them back and forth rapidly, trying to get her circulation going. She headed around the corner and tried to remember which room belonged to Raleigh. They all looked alike. Violet solved the problem for her by opening the door then and peeking her head out. Her eyes were very wide.

Caxton hurried toward the mute girl and asked her what was the matter. Violet’s answer was to open the door up all the way and step aside, letting Caxton look into the little room. The stove was glowing merrily and its light clearly showed that both pallets were empty.

“Where’s Raleigh?” Caxton asked. Maybe she had just gotten up to go to the bathroom, she thought. Maybe she’d been unable to sleep and had gone for a little walk to clear her head. She wouldn’t let herself think of the other possibility, the more dreadful one.

Violet’s face clouded with anxiety for the first time since Caxton had met her. She shook her head from side to side, then raised her hands in a gesture of submission. Caxton frowned, which just made the girl more upset. She held up one hand with the index and ring fingers pointing down. Moving them deftly, she simulated someone sneaking away, walking carefully and softly so as not to be heard.

“Okay, thanks,” Caxton said. She started to run off, but then stopped herself. She had no reason to believe Raleigh was in danger, not really. She had no indication that Jameson was anywhere near the building. Yet she had an obligation to the inmates to keep them safe. That was far more important than her desire not to disturb their sleep. “Go wake up Sister Margot,” she said, staring into Violet’s eyes until the silent girl nodded in understanding. “Tell her—tell her we may have some trouble tonight.” Then she was off like a shot.

Raleigh could be anywhere. Caxton would search the entire building if she had to. Back around the corner. Down the hallway that led to the other dormitory wing—maybe Raleigh was just headed to a midnight magazine session in some other room, Caxton told herself.

Maybe she had gone to meet her father, to tell him that yes, please, she’d like to become a vampire. No. That wasn’t possible. Caxton had seen enough of the girl to know she wasn’t capable of making that kind of choice for herself. Simon, on the other hand—but Simon was in another state, under police guard.

No time to worry about Simon.

Caxton grabbed a candle from where it burned at the top of the main stairway, studied it for a moment, then shook her head and put it back. She had a mini Mag-?Lite in her pocket and wasn’t afraid to use it. Hurrying up the stairs, she switched it on and played it across the long white plaster walls. The third floor was empty, and silent, as it should be—it was all therapy rooms. All cold and deserted. Caxton moved on. The second floor, which consisted of dormitories (which she’d already checked), a big unused library, and a couple of yoga studios, was deserted as well, though the central hallway resonated with the breath of all the sleeping girls, their snoring making Caxton’s candle flicker. She peered through the gloom, looking for half-?open doors or stealthily broken windows, but there was nothing to be found.