by Karen Chance
And we started to make headway.
I doubted we’d have made it if not for the little rain clouds. They kept dashing us with water every few seconds, less than before, as whatever resources they had found dried up. But enough to keep going.
Only where I was going, I wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t see anything anymore. Smoke billowed everywhere, coating my throat, stopping my nose, obscuring my vision. The world had been reduced to heat and ash and the sharp reek of the fiend behind us, who was trying to kill us even in death.
But, once again, he failed.
A sliver of cool air from outside reached out like the hand of an angel, guiding me forward. I followed it until warm stones replaced the burning ones under my hands, the first indication I’d had that we’d found the elusive doorway.
I would have laughed if I’d had enough breath, or cried if I could have spared the moisture. As it was, I just increased my speed, dragging the consul because he was too tall for me to easily carry. And that was assuming I could have managed it with so little air in my lungs.
Make that none at all, I thought, as my airway closed up completely. I’d been coughing and hacking, feeling like I was going to bring up my lungs with every breath, but this was worse. This was endgame.
The lack of oxygen made me weak, and made the simple matter of traversing a few, smallish rooms feel like a marathon. But the temperature continued to drop, becoming cooler and cooler as we moved ahead, giving me hope. Until my torn and burnt hands were freezing, the coldness of the outer rooms coming as a blessed relief.
We reached the prisoners again before I could see anything, their bodies appearing out of the smoke, still stacked like wood against the cold stone walls—and probably flammable as hell. But I couldn’t help them. I could barely help myself.
My strength was almost gone, and without Dorina, I had no reserves to draw on. But I could see the damned throne room now, glimmering ahead like a mirage. Could feel the cold air on my face. Could hear the echoes of running feet and shouted voices—was it another vision?
I couldn’t tell; didn’t know. I didn’t even remember what I was doing anymore. The burning in my lungs eclipsed my world, and nothing else mattered, nothing else was real.
“Dory!”
I thought I heard Louis-Cesare calling my name, but it couldn’t be him. He wasn’t here. He’d left me and he wasn’t here.
And then neither was I, as darkness finally overwhelmed me.
Chapter Twelve
Dory, Cairo
Yells, screams and curses hit my ears, quickly followed by the clash of blade on blade. But fast, inhumanely so, as if someone was playing the castanets. With a rapier . . .
The thought jerked me awake, and it was no gentle return to consciousness. Alarm bells were going off all over my body. My lungs were struggling to drag in enough oxygen while also hacking up vile black phlegm; my skin was screaming in pain, and feeling like only half of it was still adhering to my body; and my stomach was warning of an eruption.
Only no, you don’t, you bastard, I thought. You didn’t have breakfast or dinner, either. So, don’t threaten me!
I rolled over and tried to get to my hands and knees, but my hands were screaming, too. Everything was screaming. My body felt like it was still on fire, and I could smell my burnt hair. But I was up. I was swaying on my feet and the room was spinning, but I was up.
Where was he?
I was at the top of the stairs with an expansive view, but my eyes kept trying to cross. That wasn’t helped by the rapid-fire sound of metal on metal that echoed around the room, confusing my sense of direction. And my sense of balance, apparently, because I promptly tripped over something.
Hassani, I realized. And looking better than I’d expected. I watched a nasty burn on his face slowly close up, while being lovingly watered by a tiny, cheerful cloud.
My life was . . . odd.
Lantern Boy was there, too, kneeling by the boss’s side. I guessed he’d come back while I was out. Maybe he’d felt bad about abandoning his consul.
Which he damned well should, I thought evilly. Vampire strength could have gotten Hassani out of there a lot faster than I’d been able to—assuming the kid hadn’t burnt up right along with him. Which come to think of it . . .
I decided that maybe it was better that I hadn’t had two fiery vamps to deal with, after all, and patted his shoulder.
He started sobbing then, while his hands continued what they’d been doing, which was to uselessly stroke the boss’s arm. I guessed it made him feel better. I staggered off down the stairs.
A vampire lunged for me and I threw something at him. Wasn’t sure what, ‘cause my head felt weird and everything was swimmy, to the point that I was faintly surprised to have found a weapon in my hand. But that’d do it, I thought, as a tiny golden tiger went glimmering along its arc, vivid against the gloom. And turned into an eight-hundred-pound fluffball with fangs and claws before it hit down.
It jumped one of Hassani’s masters, making the man’s eyes go big.
“Did the same thing to me, when I first met him,” I slurred, as the two rolled back down the stairs in a ball of orange fury. “He grows on you.”
The vamp didn’t answer, unless you counted screaming.
So, what was I—oh yeah. Louis-Cesare. I had this weird idea that he was here, although I didn’t see—
And then I did. Leaping out from behind one of the huge pillars, a rapier in one hand and a flaming torch in another: my hubby. My old man. My ball and chain.
I stopped two thirds of the way down the stairs to leer at him affectionately. He didn’t notice, maybe because he was facing off with what had to be twenty guys. Or maybe ten; my eyes kept trying to cross. A lot of guys.
Make that a lot of masters, I thought, as four or five rushed him, all at once.
Not fair, I thought, and threw some more stuff.
There was a glittering rain of gold, and then there was a variety of things that should not have been sitting in an ancient throne room. Some of it, I admit, was not technically relevant. Like the easy chair and dorm style fridge—so nice for stake outs—that popped into being in the middle of the air and fell onto a vamp’s head. Or the case of disguises, which deposited a blonde wig on one vamp, and a fake beard and glasses on another. Or the bright red motorcycle that suddenly appeared and skidded into a pillar.
Or the inflatable life raft, which hit the floor as a tiny charm and bounced a couple of times, before sprawling out full sized in the midst of a vampire charge.
It didn’t do much damage; it was a raft. But the fact that it was there at all seemed to confuse them. It did not confuse Louis-Cesare, who stared around wildly until he saw me. And, for some reason, looked stunned, appalled, and furious by turns.
Hope the latter wasn’t directed at me, I thought, and waved.
“Hey!” I yelled.
“Dory! Go back where you were!”
“No. You’re in trouble. M’gonna help you.” I smiled at him sloppily.
Then I remembered that I was mad at him about . . . something. I pushed it away. Kill vamps now, figure out why I was mad later.
Having formed a plan, I weaved my way forward.
Louis-Cesare tried getting in between me and a group of vamps that had just peeled off the main bunch and headed my way, but they were sneaky. They jumped onto the pillars, high above his head, clinging to the surface by way of the tiny ridges left by the carvings. That was impressive enough, but then they started leaping on all fours from column to column, as easily as I’d walk down a street. They looked like . . . like . . . like those climbing things, I thought, my brain not cooperating.
Little brown fuzzy creatures with long tails. An ‘M’ word. Moose? Mice? Manatees?
No, that wasn’t right.
“Motherfucking lemurs!” I yelled triumphantly, causing some of the vamps to stop and stare.
But others kept coming, and they didn’t look happy. Of course,
they looked a lot less so a moment later, when they were tackled by the remaining elements of my arsenal. And these were relevant.
A pair of flying bolos wrapped around a couple of vamps’ necks, dragging them off the columns and into the air, feet kicking and eyes bulging. Three razor-edged disks knocked down half a dozen more and chased them across the room, slinging about like deadly Frisbees whenever they tried to double back. Meanwhile, Kitty—aka the tiger, aka the charm I’d borrowed from a friendly triad and failed to return—was going ham on the rest.
Well, most of the rest.
There was a pile of bodies on the floor a little way from Louis-Cesare that didn’t look dead. They were still moving, writhing and groaning and being dragged off by other vamps who were making a hash of it, because they were trying to keep on eye on him at the same time. I didn’t know why; he seemed pretty busy. He’d put his back to a pillar, had a vamp under one arm and his rapier in the other, which he was holding steady on a second vamp on the floor. A semi-circle of snarling masters surrounded them, but at a distance, as if they were afraid for the life of their friend if they came too close.
Which didn’t make sense. Judging by the furious, peppery smell coming off of floor vamp, he was a high-ranking master. One of those could heal a blow from a metal weapon in seconds, even to the heart.
Or maybe not, I thought, noticing something weird about the rapier.
“What’s that?” I asked, wandering over after Kitty ate a hole in the semicircle.
“Dory.” Louis-Cesare looked conflicted. Like he wanted to grab and hug me, but that would have required letting go of one of his captives.
I squatted down, and then almost fell on my ass.
I’d had better days.
But this was new. It was a highly polished wooden tip that had been affixed to the end of Louis-Cesare’s rapier. Turning it, effectively, into a stake without interfering too much with the functionality of the blade. Huh.
“Where did you find that?” I asked, looking up.
“I didn’t. I had it made—”
I grinned at floor vamp. “My hubby, the inventor.”
He just stared at me.
I thought he looked familiar, but couldn’t place him. Tall and lanky, with a hooked nose and dark brown skin. Bald. Maybe I’d seen him at the party?
Seemed plausible.
“Dory, perhaps you should sit down,” Louis-Cesare said, sounding a little strangled.
“No, no, I’m fine,” I assured him, just before my butt hit the floor. Guess my body had other ideas. “Where’d you come up with it?”
“Come up with what?”
“The wooden thing.” I pointed, more or less. “What’s it called?”
“A col de mort, and I didn’t—”
“A . . . death collar?” I translated. It was harder than it should have been.
“Yes, but I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t come up with it!” Louis-Cesare was looking exasperated. “We need to get you to a healer!”
I looked around. The circle had closed back up, and the people didn’t look friendly. “Well, that’s gonna be kind of hard.”
“You’re never getting out of here,” floor vamp said. “Kill me if you will, but there are hundreds between you and the exits, each willing to die—”
“For what?” I asked curiously.
“—to see that neither of you escape alive!”
“Well, technically one of us is already dead,” I pointed out, lying down.
Oh, yeah.
That was better.
“Dory!” Louis-Cesare’s voice snapped. “Do not go to sleep!”
“Okay.” I yawned, and listened to Kitty savaging something in the distance. “I’m just gonna close my eyes—”
“I read about it in a book!” he said, sounding desperate.
I opened an eye. “Read about what?”
“The col de mort.”
“You didn’t invent it?” I frowned.
“No. No, it was in a detective novel, a metal tip used to make a training sword deadly. But I thought—”
“That wood would work the same way on vamps.” I sat up. “You did invent it!”
And then I felt dizzy.
“Dory!”
“M’kay.” I caught myself with one hand. It hurt. I picked it up and looked at it, and all the skin was burned off the palm.
How’d that happen?
“She isn’t.” Floor vamp laughed. “You’re both going to die.”
“Why?” Louis-Cesare demanded furiously. “We came in peace to your court—”
“Does this look like peace?” the vamp snarled, and started up, until the col de mort bit into his chest. He froze.
“This is of your doing,” Louis-Cesare said. “I came back for my wife. All I want is to take her and go—”
The vamp snorted. “I’m sure you do!”
“Zakarriyyah,” I said, finally placing him. I tried to snap my fingers, but that doesn’t work with no skin.
Startled, dark brown eyes met mine. “How did you know my name?”
“You were at the palace, in the desert. You were going to set yourself on fire to allow the others to escape.” I looked at him soberly. “That was very brave.”
Louis-Cesare and the vamp were both staring at me now.
“How did you know about that?” the vamp whispered.
“Saw it. Hassani showed me.”
“Before or after you tried to kill him?” Another vamp snarled. He was the opposite of the skinny, bald guy on the floor, having a full head of hair, more muscle than he needed, and a beard that looked like it was trying to eat his face.
Oh, that would be mine.
I grinned.
And then I remembered what he’d said.
“Kill him? I saved him.” At least, I was pretty sure.
My head hurt.
“She has bleeding on the brain,” the vamp woman under Louis-Cesare’s arm said, speaking for the first time. “I’m a healer. I can help—”
“No!” That was the big bearded vamp. He looked at Zakarriyyah. “You saw what they did upstairs, the monsters they unleashed on us!”
“What monsters?” I asked.
“Do you mean the fey?” Louis-Cesare demanded. “We fought them; we didn’t send them!”
“And that was last night,” I told Zakarriyyah. Talk about holding a grudge.
“If you don’t let me—” the woman began.
“Do it,” Zakarriyyah ordered, but of course, that required somebody’s else’s approval, too, didn’t it?
“She will soon have irreversible brain damage,” the woman said, speaking slowly and distinctly to Louis-Cesare. “It is a common side effect of smoke inhalation.”
Louis-Cesare didn’t move.
“Your toys will not last much longer,” the woman said. “And then it will be out of your hands. But it may also be too late.”
“It’s okay, you can trust Zakarriyyah,” I said. “He’s a good sort.”
The vamp in question stared at me some more.
“And if you choose to kill her instead?” Louis-Cesare said viciously.
“I don’t have to kill her!” The woman struggled uselessly against his hold. “She’ll die without treatment!”
“You have me captive as well,” Zakarriyyah said slowly, still looking at me. “If your woman dies, my life is forfeit.”
That was apparently acceptable, because Louis-Cesare let the healer go. And, immediately, she was by my side. I didn’t even see her move.
Of course, there might have been a reason for that. It felt like my brain had started skipping, like a video with bad editing. Suddenly, I was on my back again on the cold stone floor, staring up at the pretty vampire’s face. She looked Egyptian, but not like modern Egyptians, who have a good deal of Arab blood from the invasion. But like a frieze off a tomb wall.
“You should be wearing pleated linen and gold in your hair,” I told her s
eriously.
“I will consider it,” she said, and put a hand on my forehead.
My brain skipped again, and I guess Louis-Cesare and Zakarriyyah had made up. The latter was no longer on the floor, and they were talking in hushed voices along with several other vamps. That included the big guy and another who could have been his twin except that he was bald and had a chest so hairy that it looked like a fur carpet had been stuffed inside his shirt. I could see it through the huge rents in his clothes that matched Kitty’s claws, but he must be pretty high ranking, as he’d already healed.
There was no problem hearing them, despite the low tones. The acoustics in here were really something. But I didn’t understand what they were saying.
“—impossible! Do I look like a necromancer to you?” That was Louis-Cesare, sounding furious.
“And we are to believe that you don’t have one on staff?” That was the big guy with hair. He had managed to lose the fake beard, only to reveal that he had a real one underneath.
“I don’t, as it happens! And if I did, I wouldn’t be using him to attack you!”
“And why should we believe you? Why should we believe anything you—”
Zakarriyyah lifted a hand. He looked at Louis-Cesare narrowly. “You say you know nothing about this?”
“Nothing. I left this morning thinking that my wife would continue the diplomatic visit here, while I traced our attackers—”
“But you came back!” The big, bald vamp looked like he thought that proved something.
“Yes, I came back.” Louis-Cesare was holding onto his temper, but you could hear it in his voice. At least, I could. And from the way the surrounding vamps, who hedged the smaller group at a safe distance, were fingering their weapons, it looked like they could, too.
We were the diplomatic dream team, I thought, and laughed.
“Try to stay still,” the healer said, her hand cool on my brow.
I tried.
“And we’re not to assume that you left to call your creature and coordinate this?” the big, bearded vamp demanded.
“I left for the reason I said,” Louis-Cesare snapped. “I returned for the reason I said! That is all you need to know.”
