7
The thick layer of clouds, drooping in dark, waterlogged folds, prevented Garreth from seeing the sun, but he felt it set, felt the welcome cessation of pressure and the renewed flood of energy through him. In the distance, thunder rumbled. He stretched, drawing a deep, contented breath. "Nice evening."
Nat rolled his eyes. "Californians have strange taste. It ain't nice at all for someone who wants to rope calves tomorrow afternoon, partner. Say, why don't you come over for Sunday dinner? You can meet my wife and kids and then watch Skipper Flint Jubilee and me work."
Before he stopped eating food, Garreth had never realized how much social activity revolved around it. He hunted a diplomatic refusal. "Thanks, but I intend to sleep in late. Give me a time and I'll meet you at the fairgrounds for the roping, though."
They moved down the street trying the doors on the Light House electrical shop and Sherwin-Williams paint store. The Saturday night parade of cars rolled past in a bright string. The blue van they had cited the evening before slowed down opposite them long enough for the adolescent boy driving to lean sideways and flip them off. They pretended not to see him.
"I got a guy for that once," Garreth said.
Nat tried the door of Rivers Hardware. "How?"
"I wrote him up for an illegal signal. He was using his left arm and indicated a right turn which he then failed to make." Garreth grinned. "And the judge fined him."
Nat's radio said, "Baumen 303. 717 Landon. Tom Loxton."
Nat rogered the call and sighed as they hurried up the street to where they had parked the car. "Damn. He's right on schedule."
"With what?"
"Tom's half Indian. Every time he gets liquored up, about twice a month, he sits on his front porch taking pot shots at passing cars. He's never hit anything yet, but there's always a first time."
They parked the car across the intersection at one end of the block and walked down to the house. "You wave off traffic at the other end of the block while I talk to him," Nat said.
A reed-thin man with long hair and a red bandana tied around his head lounged in a porch swing at 717, pointing a rifle at them. Garreth eyed him. "Maybe I ought to stay with you."
"I'll be all right. You just stop cars from coming past here."
Garreth went reluctantly, itching to reach for the .38 on his belt under his coat. He kept Nat and Loxton under observation while he watched for cars.
Nat leaned on the gate and called casually, "Hi, Tom. Why don't you put the gun down?"
"Not 'til I get me some whiteyes." Loxton's voice slurred.
The silhouette of a woman appeared in the doorway from the porch. Loxton yelled at her.
"Tom, let's talk about it," Nat called, and started to open the gate.
"Guard, Cochise!" Loxton yelled.
A huge black-and-tan dog hurtled around the corner of the house to plant himself barking and snarling in the middle of the sidewalk.
Nat jumped back, slamming the gate.
The woman said something Garreth could not hear. Loxton swore at her and she slammed the door.
Along the block neighbors came out onto porches to watch. Garreth grabbed the nearest man and stationed him in the intersection, then cautiously moved back to join Nat.
"Tom, call off the dog and put down the rifle," Nat said.
"Go to hell!"
The dog snarled.
"What do you usually do with the dog?" Garreth asked.
"He's never been loose before. Tom must really be loaded tonight."
Garreth thought about the coyotes. He sidestepped and when the dog swung toward the motion, caught its eyes. He said, "Cochise, sit down and be quiet."
Whining, the dog backed up a step.
Loxton yelled, "Guard, Cochise!"
Garreth held its eyes. "Sit."
The dog whined again, but sat. Loxton leaped to his feet in rage. "You damn mutt! Guard!"
"Your dog respects the law, Mr. Loxton," Garreth said. How close did he need to be to exert influence? He considered what he wanted to do, tried to decide if there could be consequences as negative as the ones of influencing the doctor and Serruto to let him come back on duty. He saw no obvious ones. Pushing through the gate past the dog, he focused all his attention on the drunken man. "Why don't you just put down the rifle and show us you respect the law, too, sir?"
Loxton stared back at Garreth, his expression smoothing from rage to blank, then slowly laid the rifle on the swing.
Climbing back into the patrol car later, Nat said in awe, "No one but Tom and Millie has ever been able to control that dog before."
Cold chased up Garreth's spine. Had he been a fool to draw attention to himself with one of his vampire talents? Or could he joke it away as they had the other night? He made himself grin at Nat. "The Dolittle Animal Talk course was one of the electives offered when I went through the Academy."
Lightning arced across the clouds overhead, followed a few seconds later by a crack of thunder. More lightning followed, and thunder so loud it shook the car.
"Shit," Nat sighed. "There goes the calf roping."
More and more lightning chased through the clouds. Garreth's skin crawled. The awesome show went on for ten more minutes before the rain started. That came first as a light rattle of drops on the roof of the car, then in blinding sheets.
The rain did not noticeably thin the traffic downtown, though, just transformed it into a glittering light show, headlights and reflections of lights off wet cars and rain-slicked paving.
Over the radio came weather reports from surrounding sheriff offices. Some places high wind was bringing down tree limbs and electric lines. Maggie Lebekov announced she was coming into the station. "Tell 303 the town is all theirs."
Minutes later, though, her voice came over the radio again, high with excitement. "206 Baumen. 10-48, Kansas and Pine. One victim is trapped. I need an ambulance and the fire department's extracting equipment."
Nat switched on the light bar and siren and threaded the car through the traffic. "This is bad weather for traffic accidents. We'd better help."
At Kansas and Pine three vehicles sat jammed together, two pickups with a Volkswagen accordioned between them. A yellow-dickered Lebekov and a tall boy in a cowboy hat yanked at the driver's door of the Volkswagen. Inside the car a girl screamed and pleaded for help. Garreth smelled blood and leaking gasoline even as he came piling out of the car.
"It's jammed," Lebekov yelled above the thunder. "The steering wheel is pinning her, too."
The blood smell flowed thick and hot around Garreth, stirring a storm of hunger. The girl must be bleeding. Peering into the car he saw what the dark-blind eyes of the others could not, bone protruding from the flesh of one leg under the dash and blood running from around it.
He fought down a cramp of craving. They had to free the girl before she bled to death! Could the fire department's equipment arrive soon enough? Minutes might be too long.
"Turn your face away," he called into the car.
The girl did not seem to hear. She went on screaming and pounding on the steering wheel. Garreth wrapped the tail of his suitcoat around one hand and drove his fist through the window. Breaking out enough glass to give him a hold on the frame of the door, he braced a foot against the side of the car and pulled.
"Garreth!" Nat yelled, "you can't—"
The door tore loose in a scream of metal. Garreth reached in and levered up the steering column, then scooped out the girl. Some part of him saw a crowd of people staring dumbfounded but his main attention remained on the girl. She bled profusely.
He laid her on the paving out of fire range, in case the cars went up, and whipped off his tie. "Loan me a baton."
Lebekov handed him hers, and used her slicker to keep rain off the girl's face while Garreth make a tourniquet. "Nice work, Mikaelian."
Nat said dryly, "I see the Hulk Course of Accident Assistance was one of your electives, too."
Garreth gave him a fleeting smile. He had acted without thinking. Would it set people to wondering? "Amazing what adrenalin will do, isn't it?" Not that it mattered. Whatever the cost, he had had to do it. He could not let the girl die.
She began sobbing hysterically. He reached down to catch her chin and force her eyes to his. "You're going to be all right, miss. Just relax. If you breath deeply, the pain will ease up. Come on, try it. Take a few deep breaths for me, will you?"
She took one, then another.
"See. That's better, isn't it?"
She nodded. In the shelter of Lebekov's slicker, her face relaxed in relief.
Garreth felt his own tension loosen. He savored the clean wetness of the rain streaming down his face, drowning the blood smell. So this vampire ability to control others could be used for more than personal gain. It might actually serve others. So could his strength. In the sound and fury of the storm, that brought a little comfort to his personal corner of hell.