Jack lifted Chamey off the floor, holding him there with one hand around his throat.
Chamey raised the crossbow, but Jack snatched it away and tossed him backward. Chamey flew onto the bed behind him, rolled over it, and hit the floor on the other side with a loud
thwack!
and a grunt.
Benson screamed, but the sound cut off, as if she had no breath to push it out. She cowered by the bathroom door, hands clasped over her mouth.
"Damn it," Jack muttered.
Kim turned in time to see the motel door click shut behind him, closing away the dimly-lit parking lot.
For her, there would be no attempt to escape. She would do her best to save Benson and Chamey, but she would either cure Jack or die trying.
For the moment, she could only stand by the dresser where Chamey had pushed her and stare at Jack. A thrill went down her spine to see him. His dark hair glistened and sections of it stuck out this way and that, as if he'd just run his hands through it. His skin was as pale as she'd ever seen it. It practically glowed against the t-shirt and black jeans he wore. He was not on the streets killing, nor on his way to find his maker. He'd come to them. To her.
For a moment it made her forget the penetrating fear and disgust that had hit her when he knocked on the motel door -the same as it had over a year ago when he knocked on the door of their home, as if back from the dead.
Jack coughed once more then cleared his throat. "Damn it," he said again, wiping his eyes.
She'd almost forgotten about the NoVamp. Of course Jack was experiencing it, but not for long.
He wiped his face on his forearm, then broke the crossbow in half like it was a twig. He opened the door behind him and pitched the remains of the weapon outside. The pieces clattered somewhere in the distance in the parking lot.
"Aw man." Chamey's voice sounded raspy as he raised to his knees between the beds. He rubbed his throat and frowned at Jack. "Not fair, Jack. Didn't even get to try it out."
"Not much of a slayer are you?"
Jack turned to her. His brown eyes that she'd always thought were the most beautiful in the world, were now distant and cold. "Kim, little trouble-making human who tried to neuter me."
Her hair stood on end at those words, the way he said them... the way he was looking at her. "No --"
"Yes."
The sharpness in his voice made her shut her mouth.
"Just wouldn't leave me alone. Always running around looking for a cure. You're the reason I had to spend a year in that hellish state -a sick, weak man, instead of transforming into something infinitely better."
He slinked toward her with unnatural grace.
She stepped back from his slow advance until her fist, gripping the syringe of antidote, hit the wall behind her back. She took a shallow breath and released it. "You came home to us, remember? You didn't really want that life. You don't want it now, or you wouldn't have come back."
Chamey tried to get to his feet. "She's right, man. I know you wanted all my blood, but you stopped yourself. You came back here looking for help."
Jack stopped walking, but kept his gaze fixed on Kim. "I came back to finish him, and I find you here. And Benson. How convenient."
Kim struggled to keep the calm in her voice. "Of course we came as soon as we could. I should have come with you in the first place."
Jack shrugged. "I'm going to kill the three of you, then find my maker. I'll finally be free."
Her lungs tightened. She had to remind herself to breathe again. Clearly there was no time to waste. She had to get the antidote in him. Now. Her gaze swept from Benson to Chamey, willing them not to interfere -not to do anything stupid.
But Chamey -watching Jack advance on her again, jumped to his feet. The kid raised up in a martial arts pose. She couldn't believe it, surely he wasn't going to --
He never got another step.
Without taking his eyes off Kim, Jack kicked the bed next to him, and the whole thing flipped over and plowed into Chamey.
It spun him around and knocked him backward against the other bed. His lower body slid down until his knees hit the floor, and the overturned mattress, covers, and bed frame slammed on top of him.
"Chamey!" It was Benson who cried out. She left her spot by the bathroom door and fell to her knees beside him.
Jack turned her way, and Benson looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He took a couple steps toward her.
With her husband distracted, and his back just a short distance from her, Kim took what might be her only chance. She raised the syringe in the air --thumb on the plunger, and rushed at him, bringing it down on his back.
Some part of her knew all along this wasn't going to work.
Jack whirled on her, grabbing her hand.
It happened so fast it took her brain a second to catch up. His cold skin shocked hers. His grip was tight. She looked up at his face and shrank back.
His eyes, red around the edges, glittered dark and angry down on her. "You really think I'd let you do that?"
No. NO. This wasn't happening.
"Jack, please," she choked out.
"Come on, Jack, my BFF," Chamey said weakly from below the overturned mattress. With Benson's help, he managed to get it halfway off himself. "If you're so sure it won't work, what's the harm?"
"I'm fine just the way I am." He glared at Kim. "Better than fine. "
She tried to pull away, and when that didn't work, she tried to pry his fingers open with her other hand. "No, you're not fine," she said, giving up on freeing herself. "This isn't you. Just take the shot, we can all go home."
He leaned close. "Too late."
With his face inches from hers, she saw the droplets of moisture on his skin, his lips and jaw trembling faintly.
"It's that thing inside you talking."
Behind him, Chamey climbed to his feet, then fell again. "She's right, man," he said, his voice tight, full of pain. "You've got to fight it. You're stronger than that. Cut through that red haze, buddy. You don't wanna hurt us."
