The man in black standing before her left her feeling shockingly numbed. Like a mysterious drug, his presence worked like an anesthetic that violated her to the very marrow of her bones. As if to strip the movement from her heart, Leila roughly jerked her goggles back down.
“That’s too bad. This is the way we Marcuses do it!” Just as the crimson coverall settled back in the driver’s seat, the engine howled. She’d purposely cut the muffler to antagonize her opponents. The instant her hands took the controls, the massive tires flattened the grass. Not so much coming down the hill, the battle car was closer to flying, and her wheels kicked up the earth even as it touched back down. In less than a tenth of a second it’d taken off again. Its speed didn’t seem possible from a mechanical construct.
It made a mad rush straight for D.
D didn’t move.
A terrible sound shook the air, now mixing with a fishy stench. The smell was accompanied by smoke. White smoke billowing from the burnt tires, the vehicle stopped just inches short of D.
“You’re gonna feel this to the bone. Here I come!” Leila’s hysterical shouts were just another attempt to conceal the uneasiness of her own heart. The foot that had floored the gas to run down D had hit the brake a hair’s breadth from crushing him. But why hadn’t D moved? It was as if he’d read the ripples spreading through her chest.
Without saying a word, he pulled back on his stuck sword. It came free all too quickly. Sheathing it without a sound in a single fluid movement, D turned.
“I thought you’d see it my way. You should’ve done that from the get-go. Could’ve saved us both some trouble by not trying to act so damn tough.” Leila kept her eyes on D until he’d climbed the hill and disappeared over the summit. An instant later, tension drew her feline eyes tight.
With a low groan, the earth shook violently. Though it weighed over a ton, the battle car was tossed effortlessly into the air, smashed into the ground, and was tossed up again.
Now that D had gone, the Shelter’s defense systems sprang into action.
Though it looked impossible to steady, Leila stood impassively in her car. She had one hand on the yoke, but that was all. She remained perpendicular to the car throughout its crazed dance, as if the soles of her feet were glued to the floorboards.
In midair, Leila took her seat.
The engine made a deafening roar. Blue atomic flames licked from the rear nozzles, and smoke from the spent radioactive fuel flew from exhaust pipes off the engine’s sides. The battle car took off in midair.
As it touched down, the penetrator over the engine swiveled to point at the Shelter. Unhindered by the wildly rocking earth, bounding with each shock, still the car never lost its bearing.
The air was stained blue.
The ceiling of the Shelter opened, and a laser cannon reminiscent of a radar dish appeared and spurted out a stream of fire. It skimmed the airborne body of the car and reduced a patch of earth to molten lava.
If this weapon was radar-controlled, then there was certainly cause to be alarmed. The second and third blasts of fire, usually vaunted for their unmatched precision, flew in vain, as their target slipped in front or behind, to the left or right of where they fell.
Leila’s skill behind the wheel surpassed these electronic devices.
As far back as she could remember, the clan’s father had always impressed upon her how important it was for her to refine her skills at manipulating anything and everything mechanical. Her father may have even known some basic genetic enhancement techniques.
Ironically, Leila’s talents only seemed to shine when it came to modes of transportation. Whether it was a car, or even something with a life of its own like a cyborg horse, under her skillful touch mechanical vehicles were given a new lease on life. “Give her an engine and some wheels and she’ll whip up a car,” her father had said with admiration. Her skill at operating vehicles surpassed that of all her brothers, with only the oldest boy Borgoff even coming close.
And how Leila loved her battle car. It had been crafted from parts gathered in junkyards during their travels. Some parts even came from the ruins of the Nobility, when the opportunity to take them presented itself. She’d quite literally forgotten to eat or sleep while she worked on it. Early one winter morning, the battle car was completed by the feeble, watery light of dawn. Two years had passed since then. Loving that car like a baby that’d kicked in her own belly, Leila learned to drive it with a miraculous level of skill. The very epitome of that skill was being displayed out on this hill-hemmed patch of ground. Avoiding every attack by the electronic devices, the vehicle changed direction in midair, and, just as the laser’s fraction-of-a-second targeting delay was ending, the penetrator discharged a silvery beam.
It was a form of liquid metal. Expelled at speeds in excess of Mach 1, the molecular structure of the metal altered, changing to a five-yard-long spear that shot right through the workings of the laser cannon. Sending electromagnetic waves out in all directions like tentacles, the laser was silenced. As she brought the penetrator’s muzzle to bear on one wall of the Shelter, a bloody smile rose on Leila’s lips.
Suddenly, her target blurred. Or more accurately, the car sank. As if the land surrounding the Shelter had become a bog, the car sunk nose first into the ground.
Leila’s tense demeanor collapsed, deteriorating into devil-may-care laughter.
The rear nozzles pivoted with a screech, disgorging fire. Flames ran along the sides of the vehicle, blowing away the rocky soil swallowing its muzzle. The tires spun at full speed. Whipping up a trail of dust, the battle car took to the air tail first. It spun to face the hill even before it touched back down, and the penetrator’s turret swiveled to the back, hurling a blast of silver light against the Shelter wall.
The blast broke in two, and, in the same instant, was reduced to countless particles of light that flew in all directions. Even Leila’s driving skills couldn’t get her through this web of shrapnel.
However . . .
Landing back on solid ground, the battle car kept going straight for the storm of metallic particles, its body at a wild tilt as it pulled a wheelie. The darkness-shredding bullets sank into the belly of the car.
Giving the engine full throttle, Leila pushed her vehicle to the top of the hill in one mad dash.
FUGITIVES
CHAPTER 2
—
I
—
As Leila hit the brakes, a gorgeous figure in black greeted her.
“Very nicely done,” D said in his serene tone.
Weathering a sensation that was neither fever nor chills racing down her spine, Leila replied with bald-faced hostility. “You still kicking around? If you don’t make tracks and fast, I’m gonna have to run you down and kill you,” she warned.
Without acknowledging her threat, D said softly, “Someone should take a look at your wound.”
“And you’d best . . . mind your own business!” Pain spread through the last words Leila spat. Pressing a hand to her right breast, she toppled forward in the driver’s seat. She’d taken a hit in the chest from a hunk of shrapnel that’d punched through the battle car’s floorboards.
Walking over swiftly, D lifted Leila with ease and set her down in the shade of a nearby tree. Throwing a quick glance at the sky and the Shelter, D listened in the direction from which Leila had come.
“They’re not coming,” the palm of his left hand could be heard to say. “Her people are still a long way off. What are you planning on doing?”
“Can’t leave her like this.”
“You can play nursemaid to the mortally wounded later. Our target’s in that steel box right now, completely immobilized. I say finish him off as soon as possible, and deliver the girl. After all, even if she’s been bitten already, if we slay the Noble she’ll be back to normal. That should please her no end.”
Shrouded as always in an eerie aura, D’s beautiful visage clouded for an instant. “She’d be pleased? Because sh
e was human again? Or because he was—”
“Don’t start harping on that again. Has this fine spring day knocked a few of your screws loose? We’re so close, and if you just go do it now you could kill him without working up a sweat. The sun’ll be setting soon, you know. I say let the competition rot.” As if to corroborate the voice’s growing impatience, the sky began to don a darker shade of blue. At this time of year, sunset came around five Night, which gave D fewer than two hours to finish his work.
Despite that, D pulled open the front of Leila’s coverall without a word. Evident even through her clothing, the pale fullness of her bosom was now laid bare. The flesh above her left breast burst outwards in a number of spots. Already the bloodied wounds had swollen black and blue. They were like so many eerie sarcomata growing from her white skin.
D stood up, lifted the emergency kit from his saddlebags, and returned. When he opened the lid of the kit, agitation surged into his eyes.
“Heh heh heh,” the voice cackled mockingly. “I was just trying to remember when you bought that set. You’ve been hauling it around all this time and never used it once. Well, the stuff inside became useless a long, long time ago. That’s the trouble with people who can’t die.”
“Too true,” D muttered in his usual monotone, doing a check of Leila’s battle car and pulling out a first-aid kit. Just to be safe, he set it on the floorboards to open it, then closed it again quickly.
“What is it?”
“There’s nothing in there. She’s pretty much out of everything.”
“So, didn’t restock it, eh? Never heard of such a cavalier Hunter.”
Wounds, you could say, were an occupational hazard for Hunters, and replacing medical supplies was every bit as important as procuring weapons. On arriving in a town or village, it was second nature for a Hunter to race to the arms merchant and pharmacy first, then hit the general store or saloon later.
But Leila had no medical supplies. And yet she was the youngest sister of the Marcus clan, whose five members ranked up there with a handful of veteran Hunters.
Once again D squatted by the girl’s side.
Her breathing was rather shallow. Though it seemed the fragments within her hadn’t damaged any internal organs, there was some danger of toxins from the shrapnel causing tetanus if the chunks of metal were left where they were. In fact, the entry and exit wounds were already swelling a deep, dirty red.
“What are you gonna do? You know I only work on you. Can’t do a thing for humans.”
“I know. There’s no choice but to deal with humans the human way.”
From the combat belt at his waist, D drew a caltrop. He brought one of the points to his left hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“If the girl dies, you and I are through.”
“Shit. Are you threatening me?” But before the voice had finished speaking, pale blue flames enveloped the tip of the caltrop.
The sharp point heated quickly and turned crimson. D brought his left hand closer to Leila’s brow. Her sizable eyes opened.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Cauterizing the wound. I’ll do it so it doesn’t hurt.”
“How kind of you,” she shot back sarcastically. “Don’t expect me to thank you.”
“Don’t talk.”
Leila jerked her face away from the approaching hand. “I don’t know what kind of hocus-pocus you can pull, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you play around with my body while I’m out. I’m gonna be awake to see this from start to finish. Try anything funny, and believe me, you’ll pay.”
Undeterred, D set his left hand on her.
“Don’t—” Leila’s words became a scream. “Stop, I’m begging you. Do it while I’m still awake. Please,” she pleaded.
Something glistening welled in her eyes as they gazed at D. It spoke of horrific memories.
Silently taking his hand away, D tore the sleeve of his coat and put a strip of cloth from it between Leila’s lips. They had no anesthesia. The cloth was to keep her from biting her tongue. This time she cooperated quietly. The little nod she made must’ve been an expression of gratitude.
D lowered the hot metal to her skin. Shortly thereafter, a pungent scent and a series of low moans began to permeate the darkening bower.
—
Dusk seemed to coalesce around him. He opened his eyes.
Nothing could replace this feeling, that the spell that imprisoned him to the very last cell was drawing away like the tide. This was his favorite time.
His eyes hastened to his side. Not far from him, a girl sat quietly on the edge of the bed. She gave the impression of not having moved a muscle since she’d sat down. Her pretty white blossom of a face turned to him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, still lying flat on a bed littered with silk cushions. He’d glimpsed the trail of a teardrop on the girl’s cheek.
“There’s someone outside.”
“Oh. Here already?” In the recesses of his tense voice lay unshakable self-confidence. Now matter how skilled the Vampire Hunter, nothing could match a Noble rising in darkness.
Stepping down lightly onto the steel floor, he glanced at the door and his eyes fairly shot out. Was that a threadlike silver line falling across the floor? Realizing that it was moonlight sneaking in through a crack carved above the door, he turned back to the girl.
“During the day, someone opened it with a sword,” she said. “Hunters hired by Father, no doubt . . . ”
Discerning a certain something on the blue dress that covered her down to the knees, he knit his brow. It was an elegant silver dirk. He’d been wearing it at his waist. What had she intended to use it for? For a brief while he focused on the weapon, then he made his way over to the video monitors on the wall to check on the situation outside.
—
By the time D had burned then carved away each wound, and had sterilized the damaged skin with a freshly heated caltrop, Leila finally passed out.
“For the most part her worries are over,” the voice said. “But bacteria have already set up shop in her body. She’ll be getting hit by some pretty intense chills soon. If she can get past that, she’ll be able to rest easy. You’ve gone this far, might as well do the next step. Keep treating her through the home stretch.”
With no sign of listening to the somewhat disgusted voice, D kept looking back and forth between the Shelter and the sky of ever-deepening blue. When the caltrop stuck in the ground had cooled he returned it to his belt and stood up, saying, “He should be coming out any minute now.”
“You’re so cold,” the voice said with resentment. “You mean to tell me when he does, you’ll just stop treating her? Don’t run off like some back-alley quack.” But then the voice stopped unexpectedly.
D took a step forward. Like stagnated blue light, the door to the Shelter retracted without a sound. Looking back, he saw Leila. The eyes that swiftly turned forward again held a lurid light. There he stood, the greatest Vampire Hunter of all. The hem of his coat fluttering in the night breeze, D came down the hill.
It wasn’t long before the six obsidian horses appeared one after another—followed, of course, by the black lacquered carriage. Machinery within the Shelter had successfully completed the necessary repairs to it during the day.
A young man clad in black peered silently down at D from the coachman’s perch. “Out of our way,” he said. His voice was strangely soft. “Scum though you are for the way you place a price on people’s lives, I still have no wish to engage in a pointless and lethal exchange.”
An odd hue of emotion flowed into D’s eyes, then swiftly vanished. “I’ll take the girl,” D said perfunctorily, his demeanor free from violence or exuberance.
The man’s eyes were gradually being dyed red. “I took her because I want her,” he said. “You should try to do the same. If you’re up to battling a Noble at night, that is.”
The darkness solidified. Though both the c
olor and light remained the same there, the space between the two of them seemed to have suddenly frozen.
The crack of whipped flesh broke the stillness. Without even a whinny, two-dozen hooves began beating the earth. Whether their intent was to trample the insignificant Hunter or to make him get out of the way, those six madly charging horses unexpectedly came to a dead stop a few yards shy of D.
There was a startled cry of “Mayerling!”
The instant D realized the voice flew from a woman inside the carriage, his body soared into the air like a mystic bird. Still distracted by her plaintive cry, there was a split-second delay before D brought his silvery flash down at the youth’s head.
Sparks spilled into the darkness like scattered jewels, trailing a beautiful metallic ching behind them. The youth—Mayerling—had stopped D’s deadly stroke with the back of his left hand. That part of his hand was bound in steel armor.
Twisting his body out of the way of the three flashes of light roaring through the air toward his chest, D came silently back down to earth on the opposite side of the vehicle.
From the roof of the carriage down to D, the miasma flowed. And from D back up to the roof. At this intense exchange of unearthly auras, the horses whinnied, and the carriage rocked wildly.
Long claws grew from the fingers of the Noble’s right hand. But no, they were not simply nails—glittering blackly, they clearly had the lustrous sheen of steel. When danger was near, the vampire’s normal fingernails became murderous steel implements.
“Such a refined face, and such skill—I’ve heard your name before. The name that can make any Noble grow pale. So, you’re D—” Mayerling said, his voice a blend of admiration and fear.
“I’ve heard of you, too,” D responded softly. “I’ve heard there was a young lord praised for his virtue by his subjects, perhaps the only one among all the Nobility. His name was Mayerling, I’m quite certain.”
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