Rob Thurman - Blackout

To Dakota: my own werewolf superhero.

Where the sun always shines, the grass is always green, and the rabbits are always slow .

Wait for me there.

Heartfelt appreciation to my mom for being my unpaid indentured assistant since her retirement. Thanks to J. F. Lewis for letting me borrow Fang, the flesh-eating convertible Mustang. Where can I get one?? Thanks to Kaysha and Jesse for all the computer/art assistance they provided a technologically inept writer. You earned your requested mention in this book, although its not often someone requests being killed by Cal. As always, a nod to my guy in the FBI, Jeff Thurman (no relation unfortunately). Kudos to my best friend, Shannon, for keeping me sane, fed, and led to the correct locations at conventions. To Linda and Richard for being invaluable medical and friendship resources. Continued good wishes to Michael and Sara, Ariel (just for being generally wonderful), all my fans (also doing their best to keep me fed), my editor, Anne Sowards, agent, Lucienne Diver, and the infallible, unbelievably efficient, incredibly hardworking Kat Sherbo. Without her, I would be lostlost and pretty damn cranky.

I was a killer. I woke up knowing that before I knew anything else.

There was a moment between sleeping and waking where I swung lazily. The dark was my hammock, moving back and forth. One way was a deeper darkness, a longer sleep. But there was more than darkness there. There were trees past the black, hundreds and thousands of trees.

And an ocean blue as a crayon fresh from a brand-new box. A ship rode on its waves with sails as white as a seagulls wings and flying a flag as black as the seabirds eyes.

There were fierce dark-eyed princesses named after lilies.

Waterfalls that fell forever.

Flying.

Tree houses.

It was a place where no one could find you. A safe place. Of all of it, vibrant and amazing, the one thing I wanted to sink my fingers into and hang on to for my life was that lasta safe place.

Sanctuary.

But all that disappeared when I swung the other way, where there were sibilant whispers, an unpleasant clicking, insectile and ominous, and a cold, bone deep and embedded in every part of me. If Id had a choice, I wouldve gone with sleep, safe in the trees. Who wouldnt? But I didnt have that warm and comforting option. Instead, I was slapped in the face with icy water. That did the trick of swinging me hard in the wrong direction and keeping me there. I opened my eyes, blinked several times, and licked the taste of salt from my lips. It was still dark, but not nearly as dark as when my eyes had been shut. There was a scattering of stars overhead and a bright full moon. The white light reflected as shattered shards in the water washing up over my legs and up to my chest. It looked like splinters of ice. It felt cold enough to be. There was the smell of seaweed and dead fish in the air. More seaweed was tangled around my hand when I lifted it, the same hand that held a guna big gun.

A priest, a rabbi, and a killer walk into a bar .

A killer woke up on that beach, and that killer was me. How did I know that? It wasnt difficult. I slowly propped myself up on my elbows, my hand refusing to drop the gun it held, and took a look around to see a stretch of water and sand littered with bodiesbodies with bullet holes in them. The gun in my hand was lighter than it shouldve been. That meant an empty clip. It didnt take an Einstein to work out that calculation. The fact that the bodies werent my first concernpissing and food actually were, in that orderhelped too. Killers have different priorities.

I could piss here. I wasnt a frigging Rodeo Drive princess. There were only the night, the ocean, and me. I could whip it out and let fly. But food? Where would I get the food? Where was the nearest restaurant or takeout place? Where was I? Because this wasnt right. This wasnt home. I dragged my feet up through the wet sand, bent my knees, and pushed up to stagger to my feet to get my bearings. I might be lost. I felt lost, but I needed only to look closer, to recognize some landmarks, and Id be fine. But I didnt. I didnt recognize shit. I had no idea where I was and I was not fine.

I was the farthest from fine as those bodies on the sand were.

That was when the killer realized something: I knew what I was all right, but I didnt have a goddamn idea who.

I reached for me and I wasnt there. I took a step into my own head and fell. There was nothing there to hold me up. There was no home and there was no me. Nothing to grab or ground meno memories, only one big gaping hole filled with a cliche. And thatbeing a cliche? It bothered me more than the killer part. That part I took so much in stride that Id automatically used my free hand to start dragging the bodies farther out into the water where theyd be carried awayout of sight, out of mind. The killer in me needed no direction. It knew it wasnt Joe Average, law-abiding citizen. It knew it couldnt be caught with bodiesand definitely not these bodies.

They werent human.

There were monsters in the world, and that didnt surprise the killer or the cliche in me one damn bit either. They both knew why I carried that gun. Monsters werent very fucking nice.

I looked down at the one I was currently dragging through the surf. It looked like an ape crossed with a spidernot a good look for anyone. It weighed a ton, was hairy with several eyes on a flattened skull, and a thick tangle of legs sprouting belowsix to eight at least. The mouth was simian, but there were no teeth. Instead, there were two sets of mandibles, upper and lower. Both were dripping with something other than water, something thicker. At the sight, the base of my neck began to throb with red spikes of pain flaring behind my eyelids each time I blinked. I released HarryHairy, Harry, close enoughinto the waist-deep water Id pulled it into and swiped my hand at the nape of my neck. I felt two puncture marks about three inches apart, then held my hand up to the moon. There was blood, not much, and a clear viscous fluid on my palm. It looked like good old dead Harry had gotten one in me before Id gotten one in him.

The venom couldnt be too poisonous. I was alive and, aside from my neck hurting and a massive headache from Hell, I wasnt too impaired. I went on to prove it by wiping my hand on my jeans and going back for Harrys friends. Larry, Barry, and Garymonsters I took in stride as much as I did the moon up in the sky. They were just part of the world. Id forgotten myself, but the world didnt go that easily. The world I did know, it seemed, so I kept doing what kept you alive in this particular world. I towed all the bodies out into the freezing waterChrist, it couldnt have been more than fifty degreesand sent them on their way. So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen

Good-bye.

I didnt wave.

When it was done, I slogged back to the beach and stood, shivering hard from the cold. I watched as the last body disappeared past the distant moon-spangled wavesthey were nice, those waves. Scenic, too much so for monsters. After they were gone, I spun around slowly, taking in every foot, every inch of the beach, and the empty dunes behind me with suspicion. Seeing nothing moving besides me, I holstered the gun in a shoulder holster my hand knew very well was there. As I did, my skin brushed more metal. I pulled my jacket open wide to see three knives strapped to the inside, right and left, six total. I felt an itch and weight around my ankle, but I didnt bother to check for what kind of death-dealing device it was.