We pulled out of the station, with Tyler still hammering against the train, and I was ecstatic he had missed it. I doubted I could be effective if I had to worry about a human risking his life in my fight.
I didn’t take time to see if Holden had the two guards under control. I had to trust my liaison could take care of himself. I opened the doors that led to the unsheltered passage between subway cars, and the air of the tunnel smelled of dirt and oil as the train barreled forward. I stepped into the next car, and this one had a small collection of passengers—a black man, fast asleep, and a young couple speaking in a foreign language, holding their Bloomingdale’s bags close. They hushed when they saw me enter, and avoided eye contact.
Something heavy slammed against the wall of the car I’d just left, and the train trembled for a moment, tossing me sideways into one of the metal poles used to help passengers keep their balance. I was starting to wonder if the universe found it funny to throw me into hard objects when I had a broken arm. I gritted my teeth against the momentarily blinding pain, then moved through the car and on to the next. A once-living heap of middle-aged man in a tweed coat with a copy of Proust next to him on the floor told me I wasn’t far behind Charlie.
There was a scream, but I couldn’t tell if it came from the car behind me or the one ahead. The sounds of the tunnels rushing by outside the car made it impossible to tell what direction noise was coming from.
I was between one car and the next when the guard caught up with me. In spite of all the additional damage I’d done to it, my broken arm had begun to heal slowly. Enough that I could move my hand with only moderate agony now. I was reaching for the next door when the giant who had killed the girl grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backwards.
My heels caused me to stumble on the shaky platform, and he took advantage of my momentary falter. Of Charlie’s guards, this was the one I least wanted to be fighting because of his colossal size. Yet here we were, stuck together on a two-foot-by-two-foot metal slab, with the bowels of New York swishing past. I couldn’t have swung my sword if I wanted to.
He knew it too, because he lifted me off the ground, using only his grip on my hair, and hung me over the side.
I was pretty sick of vampires thinking they could drop me off things.
He held me out far enough I could feel the whoosh of the subway walls skimming behind me, close enough I worried I would die from being slammed into a pillar rather than falling onto the electrified tracks.
Stupid pigheaded stubbornness kept me from releasing the sword, but with my free hand I dug my fingernails into his arm and held on for dear life. I was glad he was focused on dangling me, because he didn’t see what I saw—a light at the end of the tunnel. We had almost reached the Grand Central platform. I just needed to hold on a few seconds more.
I swung my legs up so the balls of my feet were on the flimsy iron handrail rather than the chains that hung between the cars and offered no useful tension. I bent my knees and prepared for the moment he let go.
I didn’t need to wait long.
He saw the end of the tunnel and opened his hand to drop me but was too late. The stale air of the subway station washed over me as he let me go, and I kicked off from the handrail rather than letting myself fall straight down where I would have been crushed under the train.
My landing was far from graceful. I hit the platform with a thud, rolling onto my broken side as I slid across the floor with the momentum of my dismount. I came to a stop on the edge of the opposite side, a hair away from tumbling over, and remained on the floor, dazed by my luck and the pain shooting through my shoulder. I’d managed to scrape the skin off my elbow and a good length of my leg while skidding over the concrete.
A crowd of late-night commuters were stunned to silence by my dramatic exit from the train. There were a lot more people than I’d hoped to see, since the bulky vampire guard had followed me onto the platform. The train doors opened, and he was joined by the second guard, and one door up Charlie stepped out.
He saw me on the ground, and instead of taking the opportunity to run, he did what most would-be villains did. He decided he wanted to finish me off himself.
When I’d landed, my sword had slipped from my grip and was now teetering precariously on the edge of the abyss between the platform and the electrified rails below. I couldn’t reach it before Charlie got to me. I needed to find a way to get him to focus all his attention on me so I could get within reach of the sword before he noticed where it was. That shouldn’t be too hard.
But where the hell was Holden?
The crowd parted around Charlie, and a few people whispered to one another in hushed tones of recognition. They all stood back and watched. I was no longer blessing their callous, cynical New York hearts.
“So, this is the great Secret McQueen. Death herself. ”
“The one and only. ” I grimaced.
“Not so mighty now, are you, little girl?”
This was a favorite insult among the vampires. I knew they used it behind my back, but it was only the really stupid ones who called me little girl to my face. In Charlie’s case, stupidity was working hand in hand with overconfidence. He believed he had me beat.
Who could blame him, considering I was lying on my back on the floor of a subway station? If I didn’t know better, I would have bet against me too.
The guards were waiting at the fringes, watching their master for any sign they should swoop into action. But for the time being Charlie seemed content to play with me. He got right up close, then placed a foot over my broken clavicle. At first he let it hover, his eyes daring me to give him a reason to press down.
My flat expression mustn’t have been quite what he was hoping for, so he changed his approach. He stepped down hard to see what kind of reaction that would get him.
I swallowed my scream this time, but a gurgling moan escaped my lips. Super-strength and super-healing are great, but broken bones don’t heal right away, especially when you keep injuring them. I don’t care how strong you are, if someone steps on your broken shoulder, it hurts.
As I looked up at him, my vision blurred and rose-colored tears sprang from my eyes.
“It’s too bad I’ll have to kill you. I would have liked to taste you again. ” He put more weight on my shoulder, and the smile on his face told me he was enjoying the whimper it forced out of me.
“What’s stopping you?” I said in a strained gasp. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. ”