“Ashley!” Tamara shrieked, her voice echoing unnaturally, eerily down the alley. “Duck!”
I caught sight of an alabaster blur and ducked my head as best I could, bringing the face of the vampire riding me directly in line with Tamara’s dual rods. One shattered his nose, teeth, and jaw, removing the threat of fangs, and the other bent his neck at an unnatural, boneless angle. Bloody claws scraped along my torso as they melted away. He fell at my feet, and without thinking, I stomped down as hard as I could.
Something deep inside me recoiled as his ribcage went flat, the vampire’s foreign heartbeat punctuated by an explosive finale. I could almost feel it as he died, the supernatural life slowly draining out of bloodshot eyes.
And, in its wake, I noticed something.
I felt stronger.
Tamara reeled into view. One arm dangled, seemingly useless, while she backed away from a tall Sanguinarian with a thick metal staff, trying to fend off the longer weapon with her remaining rod. Gritting my teeth, I flexed and strained, and the vampires holding my arms started giving ground. One panicked and let go, and it was all over. I threw several down the alley, then turned my freed claws on the slowest one to release my other arm, sticking a handful of rusty iron blades through his back, then tossing him headlong into an open dumpster.
I scooped up Tamara’s dropped octagonal rod, and rushed up behind the vampire chasing her, bringing an overhead swing down into the middle of his spine. Vertebrae snapped and shattered, and his body flopped to the ground, half-useless, skin already going taut and bloodlessly gray-white. Horrifyingly, he was still alive, reaching out toward Tamara with ragged, bloody claws.
The Moroi stepped up and drove her rod through his throat, pinning him to the concrete like an ugly butterfly.
As the life left him, I felt a rush of energy, of even more strength.
I wiped some of the blood off of my face, grinning and flexing claws as I started towards a pair of surviving Sanguinarians, two pale and battered girls at the far end of the alley, back the way we’d come. One screamed and bolted, leaving her friend behind when she couldn’t drag her along quickly enough.
I started after them.
A sudden, strong grip on my shoulder stalled me, sending me spinning to see what it was, claws and fangs bared and ready.
Tamara stared back at me, her irises huge liquid disks of sapphire. I leaned forward, almost falling into them. “Ashley.” She spoke, and the words cut like a diamond edge through the red haze clogging my rational mind. “Calm down. Please.” I blinked and shook my head, slinging drips of red free from my hair as my mind tried to catch up to what I was doing. “We have to go.” She put an alabaster hand, also flecked and streaked with vivid red, on my arm, looking fearfully past me at the far end of the alley, at the rooftops, everywhere. “More always come. Please, we have to go now.”
The Moroi pulled at me, and I let myself be pulled, staring in semi-shock at the gory destruction I’d wrought while enraged. What am I doing?
Deliberation was for later, as my innate night vision noted shapes moving quickly across a nearby roof. Behind us, another figure moved cautiously into the alley, and this one had the distinctive silhouette of an assault rifle in his hands. Nor was he alone.
We sprinted to the end of the alley and turned the corner just in time, as a three-round burst of gunfire split the air like man-made thunder. I stumbled, but didn’t bother to tell Tamara that one of the rounds had bounced off my shoulder. We dove into the maze of alleyways and came out running alongside the main street, while somewhere behind us, a Sanguinarian hunting party dogged our trail with shouts, cries, and occasional bullets.
A couple of blocks whipped past in the dark night, buildings full of dark windows uncaring of our plight. As before, I held the faster Moroi back, though not to the extent I previously had. All of the “exercise” seemed to have warmed up my stiff muscles. But past that, while I wasn't tired at all, Tamara seemed winded. Not a good sign. I racked my brain, trying to think of something to help maintain our diminishing lead over the Sanguinarians howling for our blood.
“We could split up,” Tamara puffed between breaths. “They’re not after you.” Her voice still reverberated with that supernatural overlay that instantly drew my attention.
“Fuck that,” I grunted. I could talk and run no problem; the two were no longer mutually at odds. “You could run off and leave me, though. You’re fast enough,” I counter-offered with a sharp rasp, knowing neither of us were going to take the other up on their offer. At least, I knew I wasn’t. “They might not even be able to kill me, you know.”
Tamara shook her head stubbornly. “Not… Gonna take the chance,” she panted. I could her heartbeat racing faster and faster as she pushed herself. After all, she was still a “mortal” vampire. I wondered how long she could go before her body couldn’t keep up anymore. I didn’t want to find out. Together, we glanced back at the ravening bloodpack; there were more than we’d already fought just counting the ones we could spot at a glance, plus the survivors from the first group that we knew were still out there. Plus who knew how many more we couldn't see.
Hoping to even the odds, I slid to a stop at the mouth of the next street, grabbed a half empty dumpster and slung it, banging deafeningly and vomiting garbage as it tumbled end over end toward our pursuers. The vampires immediately behind us scattered in lieu of being crushed, but it barely slowed them down. They leapt off the nearby walls, jumped up and caught the fire escape to avoid it or simply darted quickly around it.
“Shit,” I hissed, turning around as a pretty blond Sanguinarian in a T-shirt and faded jeans dropped off a roof and into our path, blocking Tamara’s escape. The Moroi stumbled, trying not to crash into her, and the Sanguinarian smoothly reached out a hand and caught Tamara by her purple-and-black hair. Growling, I darted toward them.
“Nuh-uh,” the Sanguinarian scolded, wrenching Tamara’s head back hard, exposing her throat, bending the Moroi’s spine in a painful arc and dragging her to her knees. My friend’s eyes shone like liquid gemstones, wide in obvious, gripping fear so strong I could feel it myself.
T-shirt Girl just grinned, as if savoring the moment, flourishing her empty hand and the six-inch, bloody crescents adorning each finger, the claws shifting and shimmering like liquid. Deadly, razor-sharp liquid. Tamara’s gleaming eyes went wide as the Sanguinarian bared her fangs, making certain we both saw the venom dripping from their dangerous curves like a promise.
Four more enemy vampires arrived at a full sprint, slowing and approaching more cautiously as they got close, weapons at the ready. They hesitated to approach me, giving each other nervous glances.
T-shirt Girl huffed at them in disgust, then looked back at me. “Friend of yours?” She grinned broadly with an altogether unhealthy level of cruel mischief. “Or were you the runaway princess’ bodyguard?” She snickered. “Either way, I guess you failed.” As if to accentuate her point, she slammed the palm of her hand down into Tamara’s face.
The Moroi’s eyes unfocused for a moment, the tight grip on her hair not allowing her to recoil from the blow. I smelt the blood before I saw it dribbling from her perfect ivory nose. Tamara twitched, then sucked in a deep breath as if to speak.
But I’d had enough. Wrath rushed to the surface again, and I roared like I had back in the Rawhead’s lair. I could feel the force of my unnatural shout roll outward from me, a dual lungful of dead air given voice. The Sanguinarians closest to me recoiled in fear, and T-shirt Girl winced away. But more importantly, the lights around us flickered and went out as a rolling blackout enveloped the area. In the distance, the distinctive, electric pop of a blown transformer resounded in the night, signifying that the lights were going to stay out for a while.
Everyone blinked, straining to see in the sudden, deeper darkness—everyone but me. I grabbed the nearest Sanguinarian and slung him at T-shirt Girl. Tamara lost a few locks of hair as the two Sanguinarians collided and went flying.
&
nbsp; Twin beams cut through the dark, a car’s halogen headlights set as bright as they come. Their sudden presence left Tamara and the Sanguinarians reeling from the light; as for me, it bleached all the detail from my surroundings, leaving nothing but two bright balls of light and deformed streaks of shadow.
I briefly wondered what some poor mortal was going to think, running across a bunch of vampires in the middle of the night, busily beating each other up. Did that happen often? Did someone like the Magisterium step in to help, or were they left to deal with the unexplained insanity on their own? What if they got caught up in the crossfire? The bright beams shifted angle, and the shadows danced as the car careened toward us.
“Ash! Look out!”
The car plowed through the crowd at a breakneck pace, sending Sanguinarians flying. I caught sight of Tamara, leaping over the car with a graceful backflip, just like a badass heroine in an action movie. As for me, I froze up: an Ashley in the headlights.
I braced myself at the last instant, and the car crunched into my legs, bumper, grill and hood denting inward from the impact with unyielding Strigoi. It didn’t stop when it hit me either, and my legs were plowed out from under me, flipping me onto the hood and sending me rolling the length of the car in a series of ungainly thumps.
I landed on my feet easily enough, uninjured if a bit disoriented, and I spotted T-shirt Girl advancing on Tamara. I rushed her, fist reared back to strike.
Of course, she saw it coming and raised her arms appropriately to block, but it didn’t help. My punch went right through her guard, impacted her face, broke her jaw, and sent her staggering several feet backward.
Her skin paled a degree as she caught herself, and I watched her jaw set itself right back into place. She grinned at me, sneering, and advanced.
I tore a street sign from the sidewalk and swatted her aside like a baseball, her crumpled body disappearing deep into a nearby alley.
“Come on!” Tamara shouted, her eyes blazing and desperate, and I wasn’t certain I could have disobeyed if I’d wanted to.
I glanced back, concerned about the people in the car, hoping I hadn’t killed them when they’d hit me. But my eyes went wide when instead all five occupants spilled out, the driver’s skin paling as his busted head sealed shut.
This wasn’t going to work. We could run all night and never get away from them. And between the two of us, I was the only one who could run all night.
“I’ve got an idea!” I shouted, grinning hopefully at Tamara. Well, it’s more like a gamble. “That way! Go!” I pointed, and she nodded once before dashing in the direction I indicated, with me close on her stylish platform heels. Now let’s hope it works.
We beat feet and any Sanguinarians who ventured too close got the sign treatment as well. Tamara was right; it was like fighting a flood with a bucket—there were always more Sanguinarians. As we crossed the road, I spotted a handful of other too-nice-for-the-area cars parked here and there, some with their doors still standing wide open.
Lead punched into the pavement near our feet, throwing up asphalt rocks to the distant sound of gunfire. I stumbled and cursed as another plowed into me, but I kept my footing, keeping myself between what I figured was the shooter’s line of fire and my vulnerable friend. One more bruise, assholes. Better me than her.
Tamara slowed, hesitating, and I pointed straight ahead. “That way!” I didn’t bother to lower my voice. We couldn’t lose our pursuers, and now I didn’t even want to. Better to beat them, if we could.
My plan was based on a couple of hopeful assumptions which in turn were based off of my interpretations of Charles’ explanations earlier tonight. If my idea didn’t work, I figured we were screwed, but it’s not like we had options. Any fool could see how the game was going to end, if we didn’t break the rules.
Street flowed into cracked sidewalk, which morphed into an ancient, grass-fractured parking lot. Tamara missed another step as she looked up at the shadow of the timeworn church that loomed far above us: ominous, shadowy, and vast. Dark remnants of stained glass windows peered blindly down at us, robust stone walls, steps, and steeple all strong and dignified despite the cracks and lack of maintenance or care. Huge chunks of once-formidable pillars lay scattered about the parking lot, pieces of former building material bigger than a person and heavier than a motorcycle.
Nothing struck me down as I crossed the boundary that marked the church’s abandoned parking lot, and I didn’t burst into flame or anything either. I was on church property, which was more than I’d counted on, but that wasn’t necessarily good news.
As we raced for the doors, a quick glance over my shoulder showed that the Sanguinarians were likewise able to trespass. They paused, backed up on the sidewalk, and then one pushed his friend across the invisible boundary and into the parking lot. When nothing happened, the whole pack was hot in pursuit once more. I chucked my street sign at the lot of them; I really hoped Charles knew as much about vampires as he thought he did.
Tamara and I sprinted up the stairs, solid chunks of masonry fractured and worn down by time and the passage of supplicant feet. We took the stone blocks in a single leap, our way onward only barred by the church’s impressive double doors. And they really were impressive, each one huge piece of carved stone, about twice my height and gratuitously thick—just what I’d wanted. They were also securely shut, their overlarge handles wrapped in heavy chain that would handily dissuade most trespassers.
That was okay, though. If there was ever a god that cared for me, he’d let me get the damn things open wide enough for my friend to get inside.
Tamara beat me to the door, stalling there and turning to show wide, fearful eyes. She was probably wondering if I’d dead-ended us here to die; I was wondering that too. I lunged past her, braced a boot on a happy cherub’s face, and snapped the logging chain, sending it slithering noisily to the ground.
Then, with only a moment of hesitation, I grabbed the door handles.
I didn’t know what I’d expected; to be struck down, or suddenly made re-dead; maybe to be hit by lightning from a clear sky or turned to salt. Instead, nothing happened. Nothing at all.
That made me nervous as all hell.
Stone grated loudly against stone, as if complaining at length against being opened again, or maybe just complaining about who was doing the opening. It was heavy, even for me; was it supposed to be that heavy? Presumably, mortal people had once opened it with mortal hands for mortal reasons. But what did I know? I dug in my heels and hauled with all my might, grinding the portal open enough to grab Tamara and stuff her inside.
“Ash!” Her too-large irises flickered like sapphire lightning. “What are you doing?” She struggled a little, wiggling in protest from where she was stuck between the doors, and I put a boot into her backside and squished her through the crack. She stumbled to a stop, holding a shoulder that had scraped too hard against the coarse stone, and stood on tiptoes to peer past me at the vampires breathing down our necks. I knew they had to be getting close, because they were getting more accurate at shooting me.
I braced myself to close the door.
“Get in here,” Tamara demanded, her eyes bottomless pools of blue. I hesitated an instant before yanking the door open an inch or so more, wedging myself into the crack and pushing through. I hadn’t expected it to be so simple, but my too-thin frame and lackluster bust enabled me to easily go where Tamara had barely squeezed through. I tensed every inch of the way, waiting for plagues, locusts, something, or maybe just more of that searing pain I’d felt when the anointed knife had slid between my ribs. And, once fully inside the church’s foyer, I froze, because none of it happened.
Which meant this wasn’t holy ground. Fuck me sideways. Thoughts racing, I flung my back against the stone and slammed two-ton bas-relief doors in snarling Sanguinarian faces. Not that they seemed over-eager to try the threshold, but I knew it wouldn't last. I leaned against the heavy portal, scanning the church’s vast, empty, debris-li
ttered interior for something to use, because any moment now they’d figure out that—
Something slammed into the door behind me, an impact muffled by a thick bulwark of stone.
Someone screamed, wailing as if on fire. And kept on screaming. Shouts of anger and alarm echoed dully through the broken windows and gaps in the collapsed ceiling.
What. The. Fuck.
Another impact, more screaming. Confusion held back the grin from my face as I traded perplexed expressions with a panting Tamara. I heard gunshots, then cursing. A heavy impact struck the doors, but I barely felt it through the stone.
She stared at me, eyes ever so slowly resolving into normality. “Can they…not get in?” She looked almost as baffled as I felt. “How did you know that they couldn’t come into the church? Especially when you could?”
“I didn’t.” I shrugged, hoping I couldn’t blush. “My plan was just to get you safely inside, then hit them with some of these rocks until they gave up.”
21
About time we found religion
The aged church had no real foyer or vestibule or whatever it was called—I wasn’t very familiar with churchy terminology. It felt odd, though, because as soon as you made it through the monolithic doors, you walked right into the massive gallery containing the old cathedral’s seating. Sanctuary? Nave? I didn’t trust myself to know what either of those words actually meant.
Either way, there were a couple of aisles to either side of the main room, underneath weary stone arches, but the whole area was really just one vast, empty room that had seen better decades. Stone pews marched in once-strict lines down the center aisle, blocky, strong, and lovingly carved in what seemed like an obvious throwback to a much earlier age. Now they were merely casualties of the casual violence of the modern age, no doubt demolished by hammer, gun, and boredom.
The floor had mostly been spared such attention, but probably only because it was really solid and far less interesting to destroy. What we could see of it, anyway; it was littered with substantial chunks of cracked stone debris, much like the parking lot outside. A fractured topography textured the floor where disgraced remnants of thick support pillars, once strong and proud in their own right, had finally fallen to time, their death throes damaging the very building they were designed to keep standing.
Dead Girl's Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 1) Page 18
