"What's the time?"
"We've got time," King answered, leaning over her and letting off a volley. "May I ask," he growled, expelling one clip and slamming another into place, "who designs warehouses full of blind corners?" An answering series of shots slammed into the boxes by his head. The contents of the box, jars and jars of a clear white substance, began to trickle out. "Shit, this stuff stinks."
"It's formaldehyde, try not to get any on you," Abby covered her nose with her free hand. It wasn't much use to say 'don't breathe it;' for one, she doubted either of them would live long enough to have to worry about possible carcinogenic effects, and, for two, there wasn't much they could do to keep from being dowsed in fumes.
"They use that on cadavers, right?" King backed away from the stream, edging around the opposite corner of the aisle they were in, stopping and cautiously peering past the edge when he reached it. "Clear." She backed up with him, rounding the corner.
"Yeah, it's a preservative. Don't know why the suck-heads want it. It won't make them last any longer."
"Maybe they're not using it on themselves."
A shot rang out, King ducked as a vampire or a familiar—too far away to see—shot at them with a semi-automatic from a gangway. Abby cocked her new toy: a wrist-mounted auto-loading crossbow, and loosed a short burst of silver-tipped arrows. Across the warehouse, a bright flame burst out in the space where the shooter had been.
"That's three."
"I count at least five more from the security feed," King adjusted the dials on his pistol; his new gear included the camera from his old weapon, with a couple of new features provided by Gidge: an LCD and UHF monitoring capabilities. King could swap between the various cameras mounted overhead and in the offices to track who was left. "One, two definite familiars. Ooh," he winced and looked expectantly over the corner down the rows, winked at her, "bad shoes."
A familiar ran headlong into view. King leveled and shot, hitting high and left in the chest. The man toppled, tripping in his nice dress loafers, sending his weapon flying; Abby shot a bolt through the barrel of the gun just to be sure. He wouldn't be using that one, and King's round wasn't fatal. They could save him for later.
"Next?"
"There," King pointed, and Abby swiveled and aimed. Another familiar appeared, exiting a door above their position on the steel walkway. She dropped him, cursing as the bolt ripped through his skull; she'd been trying for the vertebrae at the back—instant paralysis.
"Better luck next time, and get ready, 'cause you're getting your chance," King gave her the heads-up.
"Where?"
"Opposite end, coming at us from above." King checked the feed again, whistled. "And he is flying."
"Got it." Abby reached behind her and banged her fist against her quiver. A compartment opened, and a small round object fell into her open palm. A quick twist, back and forth once, then she lobbed it upwards. "Blink!" She screamed, closing her eyes and turning away when the light exploded above them. Ash rained down. "That's six."
"Move," King nodded, "take the right, I'll take the left."
"Vamps?"
"Can't tell. Flash burned out the receivers." He glanced up. "We're blind up top. Be careful." They knocked fists and separated, King jogging, Abby sprinting, bent over at the waist, presenting a low target. She moved down the last aisle, crossbow trained out and up on her right arm, .357 in front on her left. Halfway down, gunfire erupted across the storeroom, and she heard King shout.
Then, there, a scritch-scratch of shoes on too-dirty cement. At the end of the aisle. No cover between her and there; why was it waiting? Well, she wasn't going to wait for it. Abby leapt up onto one box, ducking into a recess where one carton had been removed, and glancing up and around. Nothing above, the office door was ajar, the glass window displaying only an empty room. No one or thing walking on the causeways above, no one else hiding on the boxes.
Scritch-scratch. Scritch-scratch. She pinned the sound, focusing on the spot from memory. Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch, pause, scccrrrraaaaaagh. It had finally worked up the nerve to dart around the corner; bullets whizzed by, and Abby checked her crossbow. Three shots left before a reload and no time for it; the shots would have to count. One, two, three. She tumbled from her hiding spot, rolling to the ground, springing up and loosing the bolts. One went high, the other caught the man in the leg, cutting cleanly through the meat of his calf, and a third ricocheted off the floor near his feet. The leg shot knocked him off balance, and Abby barreling into him sent him sprawling. In the five seconds he was stunned, she had him trussed in one of their rarely used little gadgets: a silver set of handcuffs.
"Stay," she whispered in his ear, shoving him away. The vampire howled as the silver cuffs burned into his skin, which began to sizzle. She crept to the end of the aisle where he'd been standing, collapsing her crossbow and unfolding her longbow from around her quiver. She listened, and hazarded giving up her position to ascertain the situation. "King?"
"I'm a mess," he called across the room, easily and unconcerned. She relaxed.
"I got one vampire over here."
"Goodie."
Abby peered around the boxes to see King struggling towards her. One hand held his pistol tightly, aiming it at the rest of what was being dragged with his other hand. It was the familiar he'd shot in the chest. Contemptuously, he dropped the man, who had pissed himself, next to her whimpering vamp. Her eyebrows peaked in the middle of her forehead at his pained expression.
"Last one," he panted, "kicked…me…in…the…nuts," King grimaced, and then kicked the familiar in the head, a tad viciously, if understandably. King bent over, hands on his knees, for a second or two, then straightened. "No one else here, says my friend."
Abby kicked the vampire over onto his back. There was another hiss and it squealed as the silver bit deeper into it. "That right? Anyone else here?"
"N-no," wailed the vampire.
"What are you doing here?
"Thought-thought you were the hunter."
She leaned down real close to him, hauling him up to meet her halfway. "I am. But I'm going to take that to mean you thought we were Blade." The vampire cowered. "You're pathetic. He would have killed you. We," and she gestured to King with her free hand, "We are going to talk first."