The third man opened up on Boone with his Thompson. A pair of .45 rounds tore into his chest. They would have been fatal wounds, had Boone been human. As a vampire, they barely stung. Boone aimed both pistols at him and fired twice, taking him in the heart. His arm went wild, sending more rounds into the air. Boone unloaded two more shots, this time on the run as the silver-haired man popped three more rounds off with his revolver.
Remé came around a corner and fired into the falling man with the Thompson. It was a waste of ammo. He was dead on his feet, but his finger still held the trigger and the less experienced vampire thought that meant he was still a threat. Boone rolled around the corner of the stucco half-wall and went to his knees. A second later, he heard the old man’s revolver go off, followed by a scream from Remé and the silence of his machinegun.
Boone had kept count. That was all for the old man, but just to be sure, he waited until he heard the cylinder of his pistol break open. Six empty cartridges bounced on the floor like little bells. Boone emerged, pistols held barrel up above each shoulder. Gunfire echoed in the rest of the house, and Remé was beginning to stir.
He climbed over the table and found the old man on his back. He’d taken a round to the leg. It didn’t look like one of Boone’s, so Remé must have nipped him with all his wild-ass spraying. The old man reloaded his revolver fast, snapping it shut and bringing it up at Boone with practiced ease. He didn’t have time to aim, but he didn’t have to. Boone took a round in the shoulder.
A crack from Boone’s pistol put a hole in the old man’s cheek, filling his eye with blood. Boone put another round in his neck just to be sure. The body shook, but was certainly dead. He nodded, he’d expected him to die last, and the old bastard didn’t disappoint.
There was no sign of Pollus, but Boone didn’t know how many fighters he’d had to deal with in the foyer. Remé was just getting to his feet, probably about to say something stupid about getting shot in the head, when a heavy blast shook the room and sent him to the floor with a bloody hole in his chest.
Boone followed the blast to its source just in time to see the second barrel go off. This one was for him. A wall of lead shot crashed into his breast, sending him to the floor under a curtain of blood. Before he struck, he caught a glimpse of his attacker. It was the boy he’d seen dancing with the girl in the red beret.
He was paralyzed long enough for the boy to pop open the shotgun. Empty shells hit the floor as he fished into his pocket for two more. The chambers filled, he slapped the break-top shut and brought the weapon to his shoulder. He unloaded another round point-blank into Remé’s head. Boone didn’t see it, but he felt the splatter. There was no way he’d survive that. It was as good as a decapitation. Unless the feeling in Boone’s arms and legs came back pretty fast, he’d face a similar fate.
Sure enough, the boy came to stand over him a second later. He lowered the shotgun at him. One of the barrels still smoked. The other was warm enough that he felt it on his skin. The boy’s face was splattered with blood. Some of it might have been Remé’s, but there was so much of it that some of it had to come from the girl with the red beret.
Boone forced a smile. His body still worked from the neck up. One of the pieces of buckshot had penetrated his chest and cracked his spine. It would heal soon, but not soon enough to save him.
“Your mother?” he asked, in French.
The boy’s eyes narrowed behind the shotgun sight. “Sister.” He nodded over his shoulder. “My grandfather.” Boone saw his old, dead eyes staring at him, one filled with blood over a tiny hole that trickled over his lips.
The gunfire in the other parts of the house told him he wouldn’t be getting any help from his partners. He heard Guille take several hits, while Luc and Beau shouted about flanking. There appeared to have been more than three of them waiting, after all. Based on the individual guns he heard going off, there could be no fewer than ten. Even for vampires, that was a lot of guns and still no trace of Pollus…that flashy bastard.
Someone threw a grenade. He knew Beau carried a few, but he had no idea if his allies had thrown it or not. He heard it bounce off the stairs, followed by scrambling then an explosion. Luc’s laughter, confirming who’d thrown it, was interrupted by more shooting. Some had survived. Luc cursed and returned fire. Screams followed.
Boone looked at his killer. A single tear traced a line through the blood on the boy’s cheek as he braced the shotgun against his shoulder. The vampire smiled, showing his fangs.
“Better do it quick, boy,” the words came out like a hoarse laugh, as his lungs filled with blood. “You haven’t got much longer.”
“Longer than—”
A soft crack from the back of the room threw the boy onto Boone. Blood from a fresh wound in his back ran over his shoulders and trickled onto Boone’s chest. He looked down at the boy as he brought his head up, meeting his eyes with a pained look. A pair of boots clumped on the wooden floor, followed by a shadow and another soft crack. The boy’s head shook and his eyes rolled back in his skull. He slumped on Boone’s chest, splattering red on his neck and chin.
Sensation returned to Boone’s arms and feet. The gunfire was over. Boone shoved the dead boy away and staggered to his feet. Pollus came to his side and helped him up. He looked at his chest. His wounds had sealed, but he was red from them. He looked at the dead boy and wondered how much of it had been from him. The way blood poured from the trembling corpse, he imagined a good deal of it.
“There were more of them than we expected,” said Pollus. He seemed no worse for wear with barely a drop of blood on him. Boone gave him an incredulous look. “I faced three in the foyer, but two more came down the steps. I don’t know about your friends.”
“Half a dozen,” said Luc, stepping into the room. He gave Remé’s headless body a grin as Guille and Beau filed in behind him. “Nothing of value lost, eh? Perhaps being dead will teach you a lesson?” He spat on the corpse. “I doubt it!”
“Did you find him?” Boone couldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. His little body shook like there might be some life left in him. He was dead. Vampires could sense life, and there was none there. The smell of blood made him hungry and sick at the same time. Something about the boy’s blood smelled wrong to him.
“No.” Pollus reloaded his revolver. “Looks like he was wise to us, but we got rid of some reds, at least.”
It was the first time Boone had heard Pollus laugh. Luc and Guille joined him while Beau secured the back door. No one seemed to notice Boone wasn’t laughing, until Luc stepped between him and the boy.
“Hey?” He tilted his head. “Are you still here, brother?”
Boone grinned. “I’m still here.” He looked out the window; the rain was coming down again, even harder. Thunder in the distance followed a flash of light. Something about the rain appealed to him. “I’ll be outside. Make sure these idiots don’t mess anything up, eh?”
Luc nodded as Boone turned and left the room.
He crossed the field, letting the rain pour over his body. The blood washed from his skin, but it wouldn’t leave his clothes. He tore away his shirt and threw it to the mud. Before he knew it, he was ripping the bloodied patches from his jeans.
“You come outside for a shower?”
He turned to Luc, surprised he was able to get so close.
“I don’t—”
Luc waved his hand and laughed. “It’s fine, brother, everything is fine.” He stepped close and looked back. “I’m a bit disappointed, actually. He really talked up this Koldrun. Seems a shame he couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own party.” He laughed like he just got the joke after saying it.
Boone gave him a grin. “Shame about Remé.”
Luc shook his head. “Not really. I never liked him—”
An explosion knocked them to the ground, filling the air like a bolt of lightning. At first, Boone thought that might have been what happened, an errant lightning bolt slammed into the cottage. It wasn’
t until he saw a smoking tube several yards away that he realized what had really happened.
“What the hell?” Luc jumped to his feet. Boone pointed, but the dark figure holding the bazooka was gone. Luc fired a burst into the darkness beyond the range of their vision. It vanished into the trees like their visitor.
He wasn’t like Pollus, Boone could tell. Whatever their quarry was, he lacked the strange essence that floated around the mercenary like bad cologne. In fact, he didn’t seem to have much of an essence at all. The rain dulled Boone’s senses, so he couldn’t get a fix on his location. But, he swore he heard metal grinding, like tank wheels from a distance.
Boone didn’t have time to think about it long. Beau came running from the flames, screaming and waving his arms. He still had the panzerfaust on his back, though he didn’t look in any condition to use it. One of his hands was charred to the bone, and the other was gone. He waved the cauterized stump as he screamed, charging down the hill. Guille had to be dead. Nothing could be alive in the engulfed husk of the cottage.
Pollus—well, who had any idea where he was? Boone thought he saw a streak of light leave the fire before vanishing into the sky. It was hard to tell in the rain… it might have been lightning. Boone shook that off. Pollus must have died in the explosion. That just left the three of them and their new friend.
A dark figure that could only have been Koldrun flew out of the forest in an arc, like he’d been thrown from a catapult. Boone tried to get a good look at him, but all he saw were plates of black under a heavy brown coat. His face looked more like a big red skull; he was wearing a mask. Armor, he thought, drawing his pistols and following Luc up the hill.
“He’s wearing armor!”
Koldrun drew a pistol and fired two rounds, one into each of Beau’s knees. When he hit the ground, the dark figure stepped back and fired a round into the rocket-tip of the panzerfaust. Beau vanished in the explosion. Boone covered his eyes, but Luc was too close, it knocked him on his back. When Boone was able to look again, the magnificent explosion was replaced by a smoking patch in the ground. He didn’t see Koldrun.
That changed right away. The hulking metal form seemed to step out of the shadows next to Boone. He turned to face him, but was met with a blow to the chest. It was like being punched by a tractor. Boone slammed into a tree several dozen yards away with a crack before slumping to the earth, bleeding.
Luc was up, and opened fire on him. Lead shattered against the hulking form’s body with sparks. With a speed that Boone found difficult to trace, Koldrun was on his friend like a bear. He slapped the weapon from Luc’s hands and drove his fist into his gut. Luc flew back, hitting the hill with a splash as a pool of rainwater exploded around him. Koldrun advanced as Luc got to his feet.
The metal man said something in Russian, followed by laughter that echoed like the inside of a drum. Luc stumbled forward and threw a clumsy blow. Koldrun made no effort to evade. Luc screamed as his knuckles cracked against the metal chest. He grabbed his hand and crumpled to his knees. Koldrun grabbed him by the collar and held him up with one hand. His feet dangled above the wet ground.
Lightning flashed, making the raindrops on Luc’s bloody face seem to glow. Thunder filled the air a second before Koldrun raised his fist to the sky. Luc seemed to know what was coming, but like Boone was powerless to stop it. Lightning flashed again, outlining their forms in the rain. This time, it was close enough that the thunder was immediate. Koldrun laughed again, and drove his metal fist into Luc’s mouth.
Boone looked away, but it did little good. His vampire senses made the shatter of enamel echo in his ears. Koldrun dropped Luc to the ground with a wet splash. The vampire trembled, blood running from his mouth like a river. A shot to the back of the neck paralyzed him, but it didn’t end the pain. The next blow would be a killer, and then Boone would be alone.
His arm healed, Boone rose and drew his pistol. He’d dropped the other while airborne—not that it mattered, that arm wasn’t healed yet, so he could only fire the one he had left. The rounds sparked into nothing against Koldrun’s armor. He turned from the downed Luc and advanced, taking the shots to the chest with the same concern one might show the rain. By the time Boone was out of rounds, the hulking form was close enough that Boone saw the bright red hammer-and-sickle emblazoned on his chest, and the big red and gold skull painted on his mask.
Still aching from his broken shoulder, Boone dropped his empty pistol and drew his dagger. It was a last resort, but he was determined to die fighting. He drove forward with more grace than he thought he was capable. Koldrun parried his thrust and shattered his wrist with a twist of his big metal hand. Boone didn’t scream, only grunted as he fell to his knees. Koldrun took him by the neck and held him there, helpless under the rain bouncing off the black metal figure.
He followed Koldrun’s hand to his mask. Two metal fingers pushed the plate aside, revealing a rather plain human face beneath. The only inhuman feature about him was his eyes. They glowed like little red signal buoys. Boone couldn’t look away from them. He always knew when he met the man who killed him he’d die looking him in the eye.
“You are the American?” he said in heavily accented French. Boone tried to nod, but couldn’t. Just as well, it was likely rhetorical. “You are long way from home.”
“Do it.” Boone tried to spit, but just splattered a little blood on his armor. “Kill me, monster.”
Koldrun laughed. “Hello, Pot? Is kettle… you are black, maybe?” He shook his head and laughed. “It matters not. I am not going to kill you, American.”
“Why not?” Boone tried to shake loose, but was too weak. His broken ribs had pierced his lungs, making breathing next to impossible. With the tank-man’s hand around his throat, he was almost choking. “I’d sure as hell kill you.”
“Is not relevant what you would do in my shoes, American. I tell you what is relevant. Those people you killed were friends. The boy’s name was Stephen. His father was killed during invasion.” Koldrun’s grip tightened. Boone couldn’t even gasp. “He was a friend. His sister… his grandfather… also friends.”
Boone grinned. “Then you should have been here to protect them, eh?”
Koldrun threw him to the ground. Boone gasped for air and slipped away in the mud. Koldrun drew a pistol and fired two shots, clipping Boone’s knees. His scream was delayed as air rushed into his lungs. By the time he was able to get it out, he was sprawled on his back under the Russian’s boot, the smoking end of a TT-33 Tokarev pistol in his face.
“You tell the Franc-Gardes what happened here. You tell them Koldrun is in France, and all reds are protected! You show them your scars, yes? You show them what I do to your friend’s mouth. Make sure they know what will happen if Koldrun finds them. Are we clear, you blood-sucking, fascist son of a pig-whore?”
Boone stared at the gun and nodded.
“Good.” He holstered the gun. “Now, the man they sent to find me… his name is Pollus, yes? Patch over eye? Likes to zip around in flash of light?”
Boone nodded. “He died.”
Koldrun shook his head and looked off into the night. “He did not die.” He pulled his coat over his body and turned. “If you see him again, you give him a message?” He didn’t wait for Boone to agree. “Tell him he cannot run from me forever.”
A pair of rockets jutted through burns in his jacket. They lit with a boom, followed by the smell of burning fuel. Koldrun went through the air in an arc, landing out of Boone’s view in the glen to the east. Confident he was gone, Boone fell to the mud and let the rain saturate his limp, broken body.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Brownie, hush!” Abbie couldn’t get up fast enough to discipline the dog, so she tossed a magazine at her from the table. Brownie dodged and gave Abbie a surprised look. Then she went back to barking at the window. “What’s gotten into you, little girl?”
She thought she might fall as she rose from the chair, but steadied herself on the arm. Her bones
felt like they’d been welded together. With her hand on her back, she shooed Brownie and shambled to the window. Brownie backed away and replaced barks with a low, rumbling growl.
“Oh, it’s adorable how big you think you are.” Abbie chuckled and brushed the curtains away from the window. “What were you barking at?” She flipped the lights off and looked out the window. Her old eyes could barely make out anything beyond the glow of her dim porch light. She squinted and leaned against the glass. “There’s nothing there, little girl.”
The leafless trees behind the park looked like clumps of dried chicken bones. She heard another dog bark, very distant. It must have come from the other side, or she’d have heard it better through the window. Most of the night all she’d heard was the rain. Now that it was over, she barely heard anything besides Brownie’s growling.
“I don’t know what…” She saw something reflected in her window, like someone standing in the back of the room. Her heart pounded, and she almost lost her breath. When she turned, all she saw was the wall and family photos under a picture of Jesus. The dog was silent.
“Oh, dear…” She rubbed her face. “You’ve got me seeing things too, Brownie! We should go to bed.”
A knock at the door almost made her leap out of her skin.
“Dammit!” Brownie resumed barking. “Be quiet!” Brownie stopped.
Abbie pressed her hand to the window and looked to her porch.
The man standing there knocked again. He wasn’t someone she knew. He wore a dark cap and wrapped a black jacket around his body. He looked wet, but it had stopped raining several minutes ago. He must have been outside for a while. With the lights off in her trailer, he wouldn’t see her through the window. She stepped back and let the curtains fall over the window.
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 47
