Relatively speaking.
"I don't know what you've been told about me I continue. "But I think it's way out of line. I have done nothing wrong. Also, my friend here is an FBI agent. He shouldn't be treated this way. You should let him go." I stare deep into the man's eyes, and I know all he sees is my widening black pupils, growing as large as the dark sides of twin moons. I speak softly, "You should let him go now."
The man reaches for his keys, then hesitates. The hesitation is a problem. Pushing a person's will is always a hit-or-miss proposition. His partners are watching him now, afraid to look at me. The youngest one rises half off his bench. He is suddenly scared and threatens me with his weapon.
You shut your goddamn mouth!" he yells.
I lean back and chuckle. As I do, I catch his eye. Fear has made him vulnerable; he is an easy mark. "What are you afraid of?" I ask. "That your commander will let me go? Or that you'll turn around and shoot him?" I bore my gaze into his head. "Yeah, you could shoot him. Yeah, that might be fun."
"Alisa," Joel whispers, not enjoying my game.
The young man and the commander exchange worried glances. The third guy has sat up, panting, not really understanding what is happening. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joel shaking his head. Let him see me at my worst, I think. It is the best way to begin our new relationship, without illusions. My eyes dart from the commander to the young one. The temperature inside their craniums is increasing. Ever so slightly, each weapon begins to veer toward the other man's chest. Yet I know I'll have to push them a lot harder to get them to let me go or kill each other. It is not necessary. I can do it on my own. Really, I just want to distract them a bit
Before I break them in two.
With their guns aimed away from me, they are vulnerable when I suddenly shoot my legs up, snapping ray ankle chains. The third man, the one I have left untouched, reacts quickly, by human standards. But he is moving in slow motion compared to a five-thousand-year-old vampire. As he reaches for the trigger on his gun, my right foot lashes out and my big toe crushes his flak jacket, his breastbone, and the beating heart beneath the two. The heart beats no more. The man crumples and falls into a pitiful ball.
"Should have given me the cigarette," I say to the commander as I snap my handcuffs and reach over to take his head between my palms. His eyes grow round. His lips move. He wants to tell me something, maybe apologize. I'm not in the mood. He is putty in my hands, Silly Putty once I squeeze my palms together and crack his skull. Now his mouth falls open as his eyes slowly close. His brains leak out the back, over his starched collar. I don't want his flak jacket.
I glance over at the young one.
He's more scared than before.
I just stare at him. He has forgotten his weapon.
"Die," I whisper intently. My will is poisonous, when I am mad, and now, with Yaksha's blood in my veins, the poison is worse than the venom of a cobra. The young man falls to the floor.
His breathing stops.
Joel looks as if he will be sick.
"Kill me," he swears. "I cannot stand this."
"I am what I am." I break his chains. "You will become what I am."
He is bitter. He has no illusions. "Never."
I nod. "I said the same thing to Yaksha." I soften, touch his arm. "I cannot let them take you or me into custody. We could have a thousand Eddies running around."
"They just want to talk to us," he says.
I shake my head as I glance at the men up front, unaware, so far, of what has happened to their comrades. "They know we are not normal," I whisper.
Joel pleads. "You can escape far more easily without me. Fewer people will have to die. Leave me behind. Let them catch me in a shower of bullets. My blood will soak the pavement, nothing more."
"You are a brave man, Joel Drake."
He grimaces as he glances at what I have done to the others. "I have spent my life trying to help people. Not destroy them."
I stare softly into his eyes. "I can't just let you die. You don't know what I have sacrificed to keep you alive."
He pauses. "What did you sacrifice?"
I sigh. "The love of God." I turn toward the men at the front. "We will discuss this later."
Joel stops me one last time. "Don't kill when you don't have to."
"I will do what I can," I promise.
The bulletproof glass is two inches thick. Although the ceiling of the van forces me to crouch, I am able to leap far enough off the floor to plant two swift kicks onto the barrier. I have exceptionally strong legs. The glass shatters into thousands of little pellets. Before the two armed men can turn, I reach forward and knock their heads together. They collapse in a mangled heap. They are unconscious, not dead. I removethe revolver from the hip holster of the driver and place the barrel to his head.
"The men in the back are dead," I whisper in his ear. "If you glance in your rearview mirror you will see it is true. But I have allowed your partners up front to live. That is because I am a nice girl. I am nice and I am nasty. If you tell me where we are headed, I will be nice to you. If you don't, if you try to alert your partners on the road ahead of us or behind us, I will tear out your eyes and swallow them." I pause. "Where are you taking us?"
He has trouble speaking. "C-Fourteen."
"Is that a police station?"
"No."
"What is it? Quickly!"
He coughs, frightened. "A high-security facility."
"Who runs it?"
He swallows. "The government."
"Are there labs there?"
"I don't know. I've only heard stories. I think so."
"Interesting." I tap his head lightly with his gun. "What's your name?"
"Lenny Treber." He throws me a nervous glance. Sweat pours off him in a river. "What's your name?"
"I have many names, Lenny. We are in a tight fix here. You and I and my friend. How do we get out of it?"
He can't stop shaking. "I don't understand."
"I don't want to go to C-Fourteen. I want you to help me escape this dragnet. It is to your advantage to help, and to the advantage of your fellow cops. I don't want to leave several dozen women widowed." I pause. "Are you married, Lenny?"