Ghastek pushed the vamp for about a block and took it to higher ground. It scrambled up the side of the building and leaped across to its neighbor, defying gravity. Its gaunt form sailed along the third row of windows, talons clutching the wall long enough to push away, soundless, undetectable, a new horror.
We took the backstreets, staying away from the main road. A horseman passed us, riding a snow-white gelding, graceful and mean-eyed, a one-in-a-hundred kind of a horse. The rider wore an expensive leather jacket, edged with wolf fur. He gave me and Derek an appraising look and hurried on his way, adjusting the crossbow that rested on his back. I looked after White’s retreating backside, searching for a sign that proclaimed I’m wealthy, please rob me. I didn’t see one. I guess he figured his horse made enough of a statement.
Ahead, several kids crowded around a fire burning bright in a metal drum. The orange flames licked the drum’s edges, throwing yellow highlights on their grimy determined young faces. A scrawny boy in a dirty sweatshirt and with a tangle of feathers in his lanky hair chanted something dramatically and threw what looked like a dead rat into the fire. Everyone was a sorcerer these days.
The kids watched me as I passed them. One of them cursed with gusto, trying to get a reaction. I laughed softly and rode on.
If we did have a rogue Master of the Dead on our hands, then I had absolutely no idea how to ferret him out. Maybe if I had a big box leaning on a stake, and tied one of Ghastek’s vampires under it . . .
We arrived at Rufus and turned north, heading toward the White Street. It was named for the snowfall of ’14, when three inches of fine powder covered the street’s ugly asphalt. Three inches of snow was not terribly unusual for Atlanta except that it had come in May and refused to melt in the following months despite the hundred-degree heat. Three and a half years later it finally gave in and thawed during an Indian summer.
I reached the corner and halted. The twisted form of Ghastek’s vampire perched on top of a lamppost, wound about it like a snake around a tree limb. It looked at me, its eyes glowing with dim red, betraying an influx of magic. Ghastek was concentrating hard to hold it in place.
“Problems?” I asked softly.
“Interference.” Ghastek’s voice sounded like it came through clenched teeth. Someone was trying to wrestle away his control over the vamp.
I freed Slayer and laid it across Frau’s back. The metal smoked. A thin sheen of moisture glistened on its surface. It could be reacting to Ghastek’s vamp or to something else.
Behind me Derek’s gelding neighed gently.
“Don’t get off your horse,” I said.
As long as Derek stayed in the saddle, he would remember to act human.
I dismounted and tied the horse to an iron fence. Ghastek’s vamp uncoiled from the lamppost and slid soundlessly to the ground. It took a few unsure staggering steps into the intersection.
“Ghastek, where are you going?”
A cart drawn by a couple of horses thundered down the street at breakneck speed. The horses spied the vamp and shied, jerking the cart to the side, but not far enough. The cart’s right wheel smashed into the vampire with a loud meaty thump, flinging it aside. The driver spat a curse and snapped the reins, forcing the horses into a frenzied gallop, rumbling down the street and vanishing in the space of a breath.
The vamp lay still in a pitiful crumpled heap.
How convenient.
Slayer in hand, I stepped into the street. “Ghastek?” I called softly.
I circled it, sword in hand. An ugly grimace froze the vampire’s face. Its left foot twitched.
“Ghastek?”
A faint hiss tugged on my attention. I turned. Nothing. A small drop of liquid luminescence slid off my blade and fell onto the asphalt.
A blast of icy terror hit me like a sledgehammer. I whirled, lashing out on instinct, and felt the saber graze flesh as a grotesque shape plummeted at me from above. The creature twisted away from the sword in midair and landed softly to the side.
Derek’s horse screamed and galloped into the night, carrying him off.
I backed away toward Ghastek’s fallen vamp. The thing followed me on all fours. It was a vampire, but one so ancient that no trace of it having walked upright remained. The bones of its spine and hips had permanently shifted to adapt to quadruped locomotion.
The creature advanced, lean and wiry like a greyhound. An inch-high bone crest shielded its spine, formed by outgrowth of the vertebrae through the leather-thick skin. It paused, hugged the ground for a moment, and rose again, ruby-red eyes fixed on me.
Its face no longer bore any resemblance to a human. The skull jutted back in a bony hornlike curve to balance the horribly massive protruding jaws. The creature had no nose, not even a hint of the nose bridge. It opened its mouth, splitting its head in a half. Rows of fangs gleamed against the blackness. It wouldn’t just puncture and rip, it would shred me.
The creature’s eyes focused on me. The owl-like pupils gleamed with red.
It leaped with inhuman speed. I aimed for the throat and missed, my blade sinking to the hilt into its shoulder. The thing swept me off my feet. I hit the ground hard. My head bounced off the pavement, and the world swam. Pressure ground into my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. I strained and sent a jolt of my power through Slayer’s blade.
The saber’s hilt was jerked from my hand and the pressure vanished. I sucked in a lungful of air and scrambled to my feet, the throwing knife in my hand.
The creature shivered a dozen feet away, dazed and uncertain. The thin blade of my saber protruded from its back. Two inches lower and to the left, and I would’ve hit its heart. The shoulder jerked, twisted by a powerful spasm as Slayer ground deep into the muscle seeking the heart. The flesh around the blade softened like melted wax.
The creature’s head snapped, and it whipped around to face me. Two more inches. It would take Slayer at least three minutes to burrow that deep into the flesh. I had to survive for three minutes.
No problem.
I hurled my dagger. The tip of the blade bounced off the bony ridge just above the left orbit. Spectacular.
The creature leaped, sailing easily across the twelve feet separating us, and a furry shape smashed into it in midflight. They rolled, the vampire and the werewolf, one snarling, the other hissing. I chased them. For a moment Derek pinned the bloodsucker, his claws fastened into the vampire’s gut, and then the vampire raked at the werewolf and shrugged him off.
I lunged. It didn’t expect me to attack, and I delivered a clean kick to its shoulder. It was like kicking a marble column. I heard the bone crunch and hammered two quick thrusts to its neck. The creature swept at me, tearing at my clothes, in a whirlwind of teeth and claws. I parried the best I could. No sound issued from the monster’s mouth. A claw raked at me. A hot whip of pain stung my ribs and my stomach. The fangs snapped an inch from my face. I jerked back, expecting the horrid maw to engulf me, but the vamp let go and took a step backward.
A set of new vampire arms was growing from its back. It spun, flailing, and I saw Ghastek’s vampire clinging to its neck.
The bloodsucker rode the monster’s back, clawing at the massive neck. The creature tore at the arms and reared. Derek clutched its hind legs. The vamp kicked, but Derek clung to him. I took a running start and hammered a kick into the vampire’s ruined chest. Bone crunched. The vampire’s flesh tore like an overfilled water sack, releasing a torrent of foul-smelling liquid.
The creature shrieked for the first time, an enraged, grating sound. The veins under its pallid hide bulged and its eyes smoldered deep blood-red, illuminating its face. It had sustained too much damage and was about to succumb to bloodlust, breaking from its master’s control. It flung Ghastek’s vampire away like a terrier flings a rat. Derek kept clawing at it, oblivious.
“Get away from it!” I kicked the werewolf. He snarled, furious, and I kicked him again. He let go and came at me, growling. I shoved him aside.
The
creature screamed again and again, its body twisting, warping, as muscles knotted and snapped. Bony spikes pierced its shoulders, curving from its frame like horns. It reared and pawed at the ground, leaving cuts in the asphalt. I could see Slayer’s blade through the hole in its chest.
The vampire charged me. It came with astonishing speed, impossible to stop. It smashed into me, and I grabbed Slayer’s hilt and thrust with everything I had. We hit the asphalt and skidded until we crashed into a wall.
Good thing it was in our way. We might have kept going.
I lay very still. The creature’s blood surged from its ruptured heart, drenching me. Colored circles blocked my view. Gradually I became aware of two eyes glowing gentle yellow above the vampire’s shoulder. I blinked, bringing the furry nightmare of a face into focus.
“You okay?” My voice sounded hoarse.
With a short growling noise, Derek swiped the corpse off me and pulled me to my feet. “Thank you,” I said.
Derek was bleeding. A long gash marred his right leg and jagged claw marks seared his shoulder. He saw me looking and snarled, swinging away, so I couldn’t see his hip. I was bleeding, too. Fire bathed my waist, and it hurt to bend forward.
I put my foot onto the vamp and pulled out Slayer. It came away easily, the flesh enclosing the blade liquefied by its magic. Positioning myself, I swung the saber and sliced through the creature’s neck. The deformed head rolled. I picked it up. The fire had gone out of its eyes. They looked empty. Dead.
Drenched in foul-smelling blood and hurting, I looked for Frau. Through all that, the mare stayed put. I couldn’t believe it. I started toward her, stumbling a little. Walking, for some odd reason, proved to be troublesome. Halfway to Frau I changed my course and aimed for Ghastek’s vamp instead.
The vamp lay on its stomach, its face toward me. I put the head down in front of it and tapped it with my finger.
“I guess that settles it. How old is it, Ghastek? Three hundred years? More?”
The vamp struggled to say something.
I shook my head. “Don’t bother. I’ll find out. Thanks for your help. You can tell Nataraja he can take his security and shove it.”
The vamp moved its hand, clamping onto my foot. Gently I took the hand off my bloodstained shoe, stepped over it, and headed to the horse.
Derek stared at the bloodsucker with malice.
“Let him be. We need to get out, before the People’s cleanup crew gets here.”
I patted Frau and jammed the head into the saddlebag. The mare snorted, offended by the awful smell. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I took down a large army-issue waterproof bag. “Gasoline,” I told Derek as if he couldn’t smell it.
I splashed it over the spill, threw the bag aside, and reached for my matches. My fingers shook. I struck one match, another, on the fourth the gasoline flared. Ghastek’s vamp screeched as his evidence and my blood went up in smoke.
I walked Frau into the night and my loyal wolf followed me, limping.
WHEN WE REACHED THE DEAD-RAT WIELDING kids, Derek collapsed. He fell forward, snout first into the asphalt. The kids stared, startled, but didn’t bolt.
A soft shudder went through the werewolf, releasing a mist, and leaving the naked human body curled on the ground. The kids looked on.
The gash on his thigh was deeper than I had thought. The creature’s claws had severed the thick muscle shield of the quadriceps and cut deep into the calf. I peered into the wound and saw the shredded femoral artery. The injured flesh quivered. Torn blood vessels crawled toward each other amidst the muscle starting to knit together. The Lyc-V had shut his consciousness down to save energy for repairs.
Pain lanced my waist, tearing up into my chest. Gritting my teeth, I turned Derek on his stomach, worked one arm under his hips and threaded the other across his chest under his arms. He was heavier than he looked, weighing in at one fifty, maybe one fifty-five. No matter.
“Hey, lady!” said the kid with feathers in his hair.
The children stood huddled together. We must have made quite a spectacle, Derek, nude and no longer furry, and I, drenched in blood, with my sword still smoking in its sheath.
“You need some help?” the kid said.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse.
He came forward, picked up Derek’s feet, and looked back at his pack. “Mike.”
Mike spat to the side and tried to look mean.
The kid with the feathers glared at him. “Mike!”
Mike spat again, for show—there wasn’t much spit left—came over, and awkwardly clutched Derek’s shoulders.
“Hold him under the armpits,” I said.
He glanced at me, fear dancing in his eyes, set his jaw, and shifted his grip.
“On three,” I muttered. “Three.”
We heaved. The world swayed in the whirlwind of pain and then Derek was draped across Frau’s back. He would be fine. Lyc-V would repair him and tomorrow morning he’d be like new. I, on the other hand . . . A wet bloodstain was spreading from under my jacket at an alarming rate. If the blood started dripping, I’d be in a world of trouble. At least I still hurt.
“Thanks,” I muttered to the children.
“My name’s Red,” the kid with feathers said.
I stuck my hand into the pocket of my pants. My fingers found a card. I handed it to him, careful to wipe the bloody smudge marring it on my sleeve. Not my blood. Derek’s.
“If you ever need help,” I said.
He took it solemnly and nodded.
THE STAIRS WERE DARK AS HELL.
I climbed, the steady pressure of Derek’s body distributed over my back. If I bent over just right, the pain was bearable, and so I dragged Derek and the bag up the stairs one step at a time, trying to keep my angle steady and being careful where I put my feet. I wasn’t certain if a werewolf could survive a broken neck. I knew I couldn’t.
I paused on the landing to catch a breath and glanced up at my apartment’s door.
A man sat on the stairs, his head leaning against the wall.
Gently I lowered Derek to the floor and went for my sword. The man’s chest rose and fell in a smooth, even rhythm. I padded up the stairs, breathing through clenched teeth, until I could see his face. Crest. He didn’t wake.
I tapped his head with the flat of Slayer’s blade. When I awoke, I did so instantly and silently, my hand looking for my sword before my eyelids snapped open. Crest awoke like a man unused to danger, with luxurious slowness. He blinked and stifled a yawn, squinting at me.
I gave him a moment to recognize me.
“Kate?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick you up for dinner. We had a date.”
Shit. I had completely forgotten about the date.
“I got held up until ten,” he went on. “I called you but you didn’t answer. It was too late by then, but I figured I’d drop by with a peace offering.” He held up a paper bag full of white cartons, decorated with a stylized Chinese symbol in red ink. “You weren’t here. I thought I’d wait a couple of minutes, sat down here on the stairs . . .” His brain finally registered my bloodied clothes, the sword, and the smudges of dried blood marring my face. His eyes widened.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.”
I unlocked the door to the apartment, opening the ward.
“There is a naked man on the landing,” I said hoping to forestall any upcoming questions. “I’m going to carry him into this apartment.”
Crest threw the Chinese food into the apartment hallway and went down the stairs to get Derek without saying a word. Together we brought him inside and put him on the hallway carpet. I shut the door in the world’s face and let out a breath.
I kicked off my shoes and turned the lantern switch. My shoes were bloody again. Oh well, nothing a lot of bleach wouldn’t fix.
The tiny flames of feylanterns surged up, bathing the apartment in a comforting soft glow. Crest
knelt to examine Derek’s leg.
“He needs emergency care,” he said. His voice had the brisk, professional, slightly distant tone good physicians adopted under stress.
“No, he doesn’t.”
He glanced at me. “Kate, the cut’s deep and dirty and the artery’s probably severed. He’ll bleed to death.”
Dizziness came, and I swayed a little. I wanted to sit down, but couches and chairs were harder to bleach than shoes. “He isn’t bleeding.”
Crest opened his mouth and looked back at the wound. “Shit.”
“The Lycos Virus in action,” I told him and went to the kitchen. There was no ready ice and scraping the freezer walls wasn’t in me right that minute, so I put the bag into the sink and pulled off my shredded jacket in a flash of pain. The top underneath was soaked with blood. I tried removing it but it was stuck. I rummaged through the everything drawer for scissors, found some, and tried to cut off the vest.
The scissors got caught in the soggy fabric. I cursed and then Crest was beside me, his hand over the scissors. “I remembered you didn’t have the Lyc-V,” he said and the vest fell to the floor in a sodden, heavy mass.
He knelt to examine the jagged claw marks on my stomach.
“How bad?” I asked.
“Mostly shallow. Two deep lacerations, here and here.” His finger grazed the skin lightly and still I winced.
“Hurts.”
“I’d imagine. Would you like me to take you to the emergency room?”
“No. There is an r-kit on the table in the living room,” I said. With magic this high, a regeneration-kit was almost as good as the spell doc. It cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. And its magic healed with very little scarring.
He looked at me. “Are you sure? We’d get it stitched in no time.”
“I’m sure.”
He went to get it. The trouble with regeneration-kits was that sometimes, like all things magic, they backfired and ate into the wound instead of healing it.
I shrugged off my pants, my panties, and my bra on the way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The water ran bloody. My stomach hurt. When blood no longer swirled around my feet, I shut off the shower and yelled for Crest to come in. He did, carrying the roll of brown paper.
Magic Bites Page 14
