She knocked again but froze before the second strike. A familiar scent filled her nose. Blood. And from the smell, a lot of it. Unbidden images of Leslie’s desecrated body shot through Rose’s mind. With them, like bosom companions, came rage and heartache, one as strong as the other. Her vision went red. She drew strength and kicked the doors off their hinges with an earsplitting screech of tortured metal.
What lay beyond brought her up short.
Clemente sat at the head of a dining table, dressed in military fatigues that only served to accentuate his girth. A young girl sat on his lap, her forehead resting against the vampire’s shoulder.
At the sudden sound of the doors breaking, Clemente stood, blood-speckled teeth bared, and the girl dropped from his grasp, limp as a marionette. Her body made a piteous clatter when it hit the wooden floor.
Despite her discernment, which gave her a near instant understanding of the scene and its ramifications, Rose could not move. Her wide eyes took in the torn flesh of the girl’s neck, the glistening sparkle of life’s blood on Clemente’s lips, the complete stillness of his victim’s desiccated corpse. In that moment, Rose no longer saw the girl lying on the floor, but Leslie, her headless body abandoned in a nameless tower.
“Rose Carver.” Clemente straightened up, his face gone slack. “Why are you here?”
“What have you done?” Rose asked.
Clemente’s dark eyes tracked slowly down to the girl as if someone had pointed out a minor stain on his floor. “She was the daughter of a maid. I would not normally take the child of a servant, but your Americano soldiers are coming. I need my strength.”
“You killed her.” Rose’s heart thrummed so hard she shook with its efforts.
Clemente tilted his head, the wattles at his neck forming a grotesque set of double chins on one side of his throat. “Claro, woman. That is what vampires do in times of need. If you’re concerned for her mother, don’t be. I’ll see she’s compensated.”
Something burst inside Rose. Could a succubus draw anger from her votaries? It certainly felt that way, though Rose doubted it. No, this blistering torrent was all hers. It scoured away thought, restraint, even sanity, setting fire to her mind.
Rose covered the distance between them in one spastic leap, clearing the oversized table and narrowly missing a crystal chandelier. Her fist caught Clemente on the right eye with the force of a two-ton sledgehammer and a sound like a gunshot.
He reeled away, gasping, one side of his face visibly caved in.
Good. Rose could hurt a vampire.
Careful of the girl’s corpse, Rose set her feet and barreled into Clemente, planting one shoulder into his ample belly while simultaneously sweeping both legs in a classic wrestling takedown she had learned at Camp Den. The back of his head smacked the floor, and she fell atop him. She tried to spin into a side mount, even managed to get one forearm under his chin to control his bite, but the fat vamp had finally begun to resist. And he was strong.
Clemente sat up. Somehow, he managed to get a boot beneath him and stood, holding Rose tight when she tried to scramble down. With a powerful roar, he flung her across the suite. She collided with a stucco-over-brick wall. Something in her left arm cracked. She cried out as pain shot through that side but managed to rebound off the floor to gain her feet. Drawing healing, she mended her broken bones almost instantly.
Clemente put on a good show of appearing unfazed by Rose’s attack. His face, the part that wasn’t dented into his skull, remained slack, but he was panting, and a faint sheen of pinkish sweat glistened on his cheeks and forehead. He felt pain no matter how aloof he tried to appear. That realization gave Rose no end of satisfaction. How many other little girls had this monster killed in his undoubtedly long life? A hundred? A thousand? Whatever pain she dealt him could never make up for even one.
Unfortunately, Rose’s satisfaction at causing Clemente pain vanished in the next instant when the vampire’s sunken eye righted itself and his cheek lifted back into place with a wet pop. A series of multi-colored bruises blossomed and healed across his injured flesh before it finally settled on its unnatural pale hue. The wound was gone.
The vampire could heal faster than her. Good to know.
“Have you lost your mind, woman?” Clemente spat a wad of bloody phlegm on the floor. “You come here seeking my help, and then you attack me over some little whore? You’re insane.”
Rose balled her fists. “You haven’t seen insane yet.”
She rushed him, this time feinting a jab at his face. He tried to block, and she smashed her opposite elbow into his nose. Blood sprayed, and Clemente grunted. He grabbed at her, but she evaded him. He might heal faster, but she had an edge on physical speed. She sidestepped, caught him with a wicked snap kick to the knee followed by an overhand right that reapplied some of the damage he had managed to mend.
Clemente staggered back. He wiped at his injured nose, and his fingers came away bloody, a sight that finally broke his stoic façade. He snarled, baring his teeth, and charged.
Rose weaved under Clemente’s next punch with time to spare. Her new depth and breadth of votaries amazed her. She drew all she could, and still more power remained, a seemingly bottomless reserve she could never empty. Relying on that surplus, she closed the distance between them. She set her feet just as her combat trainers had taught her at Camp Den and unleashed a furious hail of blows that pummeled Clemente’s ribs and sternum like cannonballs.
Clemente dropped to one knee. Blood and sweat dribbled from his damaged face onto the hardwood floor. Rose seized his upraised arm, cocked her fist, and drew in all the strength and speed at her command.
“Never again,” she whispered.
“STOP!” The voice shook the room.
Seven vampires rushed through the broken doors, Rubio in the lead. They held submachine guns and were decked out in black body armor.
Behind them came Matt with several of the Dog Ears, including Watts and Satterfield.
“Don’t shoot,” Matt screamed, his face so pale he could have been one of the vampires.
Clemente threw off Rose’s grip and stood. “Kill this ungrateful bitch!”
“No!” Matt shouted.
And that was when the room blew up.
The near wall behind the vampires blasted into a chunky gale filled with stucco, plywood, and brick shards the size of Rose’s clenched fist, all of it heralded by a monstrous explosion. Sunlight poured into the opening.
For the second time in five minutes, Rose flew through the air. This time she collided with Clemente’s dining table, which flipped, sending heavy chairs in every direction like bowling pins. Heart thudding in her chest, she desperately clung to consciousness, drawing healing and awareness, her hearing gone to an incessant buzz. She stood, coughing, trying to get her bearings in the smoke and sudden daylight. She had thought it still dark outside.
Her hearing returned in a rush as her draw of healing took hold. Someone screamed in pain, but she couldn’t see who through the pall of smoke and dust in the air.
“Matt?” she called.
“Here.”
Rose followed the sound. She was shaking, disoriented, and her eyes watered so much her vision looked like a kaleidoscope. Rubio darted past her, both hands pressed over his eyes. Black, green, and purple splotches decorated his exposed skin.
A second vampire, a tall woman, followed him. She too covered her face, especially her eyes. Together, they tripped and stumbled across the debris-strewn suite toward the exit, both wailing in pain.
Gunfire resumed outside, or perhaps Rose simply became aware of it again. It sounded far louder than before, owing to the now missing northern wall.
Clemente and two other vampires lay on the floor unmoving. Putrid green, purple, and even black splotches covered their exposed skin, and a stench like sour milk wafted up from their corpses. Rose covered her mouth and nose and hurried on.
Matt emerged from the murk, his expression raw with panic and wo
rry. He spotted Rose and seized her hand to drag her from in front of the gaping hole into the adjoining hallway. “Oh, God, I thought you were dead for sure.” Matt threw his arms around Rose, his cheek pressed against the side of her neck.
“I’m okay,” Rose lied. She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t get the image of that poor girl out of her head. She pushed Matt away, not roughly, but firmly. Part of her wanted to melt into his embrace and never let him go. But was that a genuine feeling or something borne of charm?
“Sorry.” Matt released her, a flash of hurt passing across his visage, there and gone in less than a second.
“We need to leave,” Watts said as he and Satterfield materialized from the smoke behind Matt. “Those were hellfire rockets. Probably came from drones. Either they’re softening us up for another round of the same, or their regulars are coming. Either way, we don’t want to be here when the Army arrives.”
Another explosion rocked the hacienda.
“Agreed,” Matt said. “We’re evacuating now. Is everyone together?”
“Should be,” Satterfield said. “I told them to meet up in the game room. Most of the vamps and all of the human guards disappeared around three a.m., so they weren’t there to keep us separated.”
They descended the hacienda’s parquet stairs two at a time. The physical activity, just having something to do with her body, helped Rose fight her shock. It gave her somewhere to put her mind besides her grief.
They reached the second-floor main hallway. Watts and Satterfield dashed into an adjoining corridor. Rose made to follow, but Matt took her by the wrist to stop her.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
Watts pointed. “Game room’s this way.”
“You two go,” Matt said. “If we don’t catch up, get everyone back to the States. Meet at Cause Point Beta, got it?”
Satterfield looked between Rose and Matt, her eyes wide with worry. “Sir, we should stay together.”
“Not this time.”
“Where are you going?” Watts asked.
“Rose’s sister is in the basement. We’re not leaving without her.”
22
Choice
“Thank you,” Rose said, as she and Matt ran for the basement door. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yes. I did. I owe you that much.”
Matt kicked open the door leading to the hacienda’s basement, bounded through, and hit the stairs with draw-enhanced speed. Though his injured leg slowed him, he was still faster and more adroit than any human athlete. Rose had to hold herself back very little to keep from tripping over him.
She drew discernment. “Someone’s down there.”
Matt skipped the last five steps to land in a crouch, holding up a hand to forestall Rose. She stopped just above him, her heart in her throat.
A mass of wights huddled around the door to Clemente’s comic book vault. Rose counted at least thirty, probably more. A gaggle of lesser vampires stood amongst them, affecting cold indifference, but Rose saw through their façade. They yearned to attack.
The wights growled like feral cats. Several of them slunk forward, their pale skin unnaturally bright even in the basement’s dark confines.
Matt tensed, setting his feet for a confrontation. Which, while brave and maybe even a little endearing, was beyond idiotic.
Rose put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, staying him, as she descended the last couple of steps. She drew charm. “We’re here for my sister. That’s all. We don’t want trouble.”
The wights froze. Silence held for a long moment while the two sides watched one another. Rose couldn’t tell if she had ensnared the creatures with her charm—the things were impossible to read. But they hadn’t thrown themselves into a killing frenzy, so there was that.
A thump and click followed by the sound of sliding bolts echoed from the vault door behind the vampires and wights. It opened with a hiss, and the group made way for Rubio and several of the older vampires accompanied by seven human guards armed with automatic rifles.
Rubio held his face, now healed of sun damage, perfectly still, devoid of emotion. He stopped five paces from Matt and Rose, human and vampire cronies flanking him. They too affected looks of stoic nonchalance.
Rose swallowed. All at once, she wanted another chance to speak with Matt. She was still pissed at him for withholding the truth of his past, but that didn’t matter now. She had fallen for him. That was why his dishonesty hurt so much. And at this moment, when death seemed imminent, love made everything else trivial. She wanted to say so much, to let him say so much more—explain himself so that she could think of him without rancor, without hurt. But she could see that chance slipping through their fingers.
“You killed Clemente,” Rubio said, his voice low and full of malice.
“Sunlight killed him.” Matt took a step forward as if he might take on the entire horde on his own.
Rose stepped forward, taking her place at Matt’s side. For better or death, she refused to let him fight alone. She matched Rubio’s flinty gaze without flinching. “I would have killed him myself if that rocket hadn’t done it for me.”
The wights growled, as did the weaker vampires. They adjusted their stances, leaning forward. Several of them sniffed the air as if scenting blood.
Rubio and the older vamps remained unnervingly still. “He was helping you. Why attack him?”
Rose considered the vampire for a long moment. Surely, he knew his father’s appetites. Would he even understand if Rose tried to describe her horror at what Clemente had done in killing the girl? She had to try. She spoke quickly, detailing the gruesome scene, her outrage, and the ensuing fight. She didn’t stint in showing her fury or letting challenge enter her voice. If these creatures valued a human life at nothing, then she would gladly die fighting them.
Slowly, Rubio nodded, once like a bidder at an upscale auction. “My father was stupid sometimes. He indulged himself too freely.”
A flicker of surprise passed over the face of the female vampire at Rubio’s side, there and gone before Rose could credit it. A couple of the younger vamps shifted uneasily, but no one contradicted Rubio.
Faintly, Rose heard gunfire and screaming voices echoing down the stairs. The Army was nearing the hacienda. Several of the wights turned their gazes that direction.
“With Papi gone, I am leader here,” Rubio said. “My human thralls are fighting your American Army, but they will not win. I ordered them to dynamite the hacienda, bring it down on this vault so the gringos won’t find us. We’ll wait out your soldiers here.”
Matt stiffened beside Rose. He too glanced up the stairs as if he could see the explosives. He had to be thinking the same thing as Rose. Were the vamps planning to keep them as bomb shelter rations?
“We came here for my sister,” Rose said.
“Papa wanted to be in your comic book. It was his dying wish, I think.”
“I’ll see to it. Let me get my sister and go. I’ll make certain Clemente is part of Drawn.”
No one moved for a long time. It felt like hours but was less than a minute. Then Rubio gave them that disturbing slow nod of his.
Matt opened the interrogation room door while Rubio and his companions filed back into the comics vault, leaving the wights and six of the lower status vampires in the hall. They eyed Rose with unveiled hatred, or else hunger, but did nothing to stop her as she slipped into Melody’s room.
Matt made room for Rose but remained in the doorway keeping an eye on the vampires. “Hurry.”
Melody lay asleep on the interrogation chair, her wrists and ankles strapped in place. Fresh bite marks stood out on her neck, her jaw, even her wrists. She opened bloodshot eyes at Rose’s approach and gave her sister a wan smile. “I knew you would come.”
“What did they do to you?” Rose unfastened the leather straps, sudden anger making her tremble. At that moment, filled with all the drawn abilities of her many fans, she felt confident she could run through the gathe
red wights and vampires in the hall like grease through a duck. Her heart thumped in her chest, her thoughts whirling through tactics and killing moves. She didn’t care that the vampires possessed powers of their own— their blood ties. Those monsters had to die.
Melody sat up as if she meant to stand but froze when she saw Matt standing in the doorway. “What’s he doing here?”
“Helping save you.” Rose hooked an arm around her sister’s shoulders, intent on assisting her to stand, but Melody refused to rise.
“You said it would just be us. I’m not going anywhere with him.”
Rose had no time for her little sister’s stupid vendetta against the Order. “Listen, there’s a hallway full of wights and vampires out there, not to mention the U.S. Army on its way. If you don’t get your ass up and follow us, and I mean both of us, right now, you’re gonna end up dead. Can you walk?”
Melody shrugged off Rose’s arm like an obstinate child and got to her feet. Without warning, the entire hacienda shook, a deep, concussive boom thrumming through its ancient foundations, making the walls groan as if in pain. Melody stumbled but recovered.
“We’ve gotta move.” Matt waved at the dust sifting down from the ceiling. “I, for one, don’t plan on getting buried with Rubio and his crew.”
“Come on.” Rose reached for her sister’s hand.
Melody twisted away. “I said no. Not with him. Not with any of them. It’s you and me or no one. If you abandon me now, I’m going to save our family without you.”
“Don’t be stupid. We can’t go it alone, Mel. We’re not strong enough to take on Society without help. The Order’s got its problems, I’ll admit that, but it’s getting better, more reasonable. It’s like-minded succubi in the Order who have the best chance at changing Society—making it something worth serving.”
Melody stared at Rose, her brown eyes unwavering. “Do you have your phone with you?”
Rose lifted an eyebrow. Had the vampire venom rattled her sister’s brain? “Why?”
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