Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist 3 - Dark Harvest by Lynda Hilburn Page B
Authors: Lynda Hilburn
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great, but you might want to lose the coat—if it really is your favorite. Leave it in the car or it will get filthy. I have a couple of parkas here in the back. You can use one.”
I started to complain that I didn’t want to crawl anywhere, but she’d already turned her attention to grabbing supplies from her rolling disaster-preparedness stash.
Surrendering to the inevitable, I shrugged out of my coat, took my cell phone, wallet, and keys out of the pockets, and exchanged it for one of the black parkas. The silky, pillowy fabric was too warm for the Page 45
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mild weather, and it made me feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I crammed all my things into one large pocket, and filled the other with the flashlight, tape recorder, pocketknife, writing pad, and pen Maxie thrust into my hands.
“Okay. You have to take one of these. Which one do you think you could handle?” She held out a stun gun and a pistol, and shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as I stared at both the foreign objects in her hands. “Well? What’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” I whispered, louder than I probably should have. “You didn’t say anything about needing to be armed to attend this crap fest. What the hell are we going to do with weapons? I thought we were just going to hide out and watch. Are you planning to burst in and take hostages, or something?”
This adventure had transformed from being an interesting change of pace, to something that made fear coil in my stomach.
Maxie stared at the ground and shook her head. She lowered the weapons to her sides, then raised her eyes up to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m used to doing these crazy things alone and I psych myself up for whatever’s going to happen. I should’ve told you that there’s always a chance some weirdo will freak out and do something violent. After all, if these people were normal and healthy, they probably wouldn’t be here. You should be used to unpredictable, mentally whacked people.” She brought the pistol and the stun gun into the space between us again. “I need you to choose one of these, just so I can be sure you have something to defend yourself with. You could use the pocketknife, but a perpetrator would have to get awfully close and personal before it would be a good option.”
She held the small pistol out to me. “Have you ever fired one of these?”
I took the gun. “Just a few times, when an old boyfriend dragged me to the firing range. I wasn’t very good. I’d probably shoot myself in the foot.”
In fact, I shothim in the foot back then.
“No, you won’t. It has a safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She demonstrated and then handed the gun back to me. “Take it, okay? Just in case.”
My hand tingled when I took the weapon, as if my skin was trying to reject all the emotions trapped in the handle. Not a good feeling.
“I really hate this, Maxie. This isn’t my idea of fun at all. You’re going to owe me big-time. Crawling in the dirt, carrying a gun, prowling through the burned-out remains of an amusement park—next time we listen to jazz and drink margaritas.”
She grinned and patted my shoulder. “Way to suck it up, my friend. What a trouper. This will be an adventure you’ll never forget.” She angled over to check out the back of the Jeep again and nodded.
“Yes. I think we have everything we need. Let’s rumble.” She fastened the flap over the rear window, zipped the front of her jacket, and trotted toward the fence.
She shot me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey, you’d better zip up unless you want dirt and soot all over that fine rack.”
I heard her laughing as she effortlessly glided to a gaping section of fence. I looked down to zip the parka, still walking fast to catch up with Maxie, and tripped over an exposed tree root. Thanks to the foamy coat, I barely made a sound as I hit the ground. I raised my head
I started to complain that I didn’t want to crawl anywhere, but she’d already turned her attention to grabbing supplies from her rolling disaster-preparedness stash.
Surrendering to the inevitable, I shrugged out of my coat, took my cell phone, wallet, and keys out of the pockets, and exchanged it for one of the black parkas. The silky, pillowy fabric was too warm for the Page 45
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
mild weather, and it made me feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I crammed all my things into one large pocket, and filled the other with the flashlight, tape recorder, pocketknife, writing pad, and pen Maxie thrust into my hands.
“Okay. You have to take one of these. Which one do you think you could handle?” She held out a stun gun and a pistol, and shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as I stared at both the foreign objects in her hands. “Well? What’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” I whispered, louder than I probably should have. “You didn’t say anything about needing to be armed to attend this crap fest. What the hell are we going to do with weapons? I thought we were just going to hide out and watch. Are you planning to burst in and take hostages, or something?”
This adventure had transformed from being an interesting change of pace, to something that made fear coil in my stomach.
Maxie stared at the ground and shook her head. She lowered the weapons to her sides, then raised her eyes up to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m used to doing these crazy things alone and I psych myself up for whatever’s going to happen. I should’ve told you that there’s always a chance some weirdo will freak out and do something violent. After all, if these people were normal and healthy, they probably wouldn’t be here. You should be used to unpredictable, mentally whacked people.” She brought the pistol and the stun gun into the space between us again. “I need you to choose one of these, just so I can be sure you have something to defend yourself with. You could use the pocketknife, but a perpetrator would have to get awfully close and personal before it would be a good option.”
She held the small pistol out to me. “Have you ever fired one of these?”
I took the gun. “Just a few times, when an old boyfriend dragged me to the firing range. I wasn’t very good. I’d probably shoot myself in the foot.”
In fact, I shothim in the foot back then.
“No, you won’t. It has a safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She demonstrated and then handed the gun back to me. “Take it, okay? Just in case.”
My hand tingled when I took the weapon, as if my skin was trying to reject all the emotions trapped in the handle. Not a good feeling.
“I really hate this, Maxie. This isn’t my idea of fun at all. You’re going to owe me big-time. Crawling in the dirt, carrying a gun, prowling through the burned-out remains of an amusement park—next time we listen to jazz and drink margaritas.”
She grinned and patted my shoulder. “Way to suck it up, my friend. What a trouper. This will be an adventure you’ll never forget.” She angled over to check out the back of the Jeep again and nodded.
“Yes. I think we have everything we need. Let’s rumble.” She fastened the flap over the rear window, zipped the front of her jacket, and trotted toward the fence.
She shot me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey, you’d better zip up unless you want dirt and soot all over that fine rack.”
I heard her laughing as she effortlessly glided to a gaping section of fence. I looked down to zip the parka, still walking fast to catch up with Maxie, and tripped over an exposed tree root. Thanks to the foamy coat, I barely made a sound as I hit the ground. I raised my head
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