She tripped over something and yelped as she scraped her knees and elbows. Peering behind her, she wanted to cry in relief. The shotgun.
Snatching the weapon up, she used a cherry red car to help her stand. Harriet tossed back her mass of hair and shuffled onto the road.
The wisps no longer bothered the monsters. The riders had Kiral stretched between them. Any move he made threatened to tear off a limb.
Without uttering a word, Harriet marched toward them and planted her feet two car lengths behind the monster with its whip wrapped around Kiral’s leg. She raised the gun, braced it against her shoulder, and fired.
Catherine wasn’t kidding when she said the shotgun had kick. A dozen cries filled her ears knocking Harriet flat on her back. At first she thought she was having more visions, but nothing came before her mind’s eye. She raised her head in time to see the remaining lower half of the rider and its horse fall apart. Not like a puzzle or a tower, but a tumble of bodies that hadn’t seemed to be there before.
The headless rider and its steed were made of little monsters.
As she lay there on the road with her mouth hanging open, Kiral wasn’t wasting a second of time. With his leg free, he planted both feet against the far side of a car, and using his immense strength, yanked on the whip of the remaining rider. He smashed it against the vehicle with an awful thunk. The monster exploded into smaller monster bits.
Harriet thought maybe the little devils would scramble to get back together, but they raced off in various directions. One could kill her, but perhaps they knew nothing of guns and that a shotgun needed to be reloaded. They gave her a wide berth and disappeared into the night.
Kiral dashed toward her, scooped her up, and ran toward the north side of town.
CHAPTER 12
Ms. Bates smiled when Harriet and Kiral knocked at her door. She undid a half dozen chain and bolt locks and welcomed them in with the scent of freshly brewed tea. It was like stepping out from a war zone into a storybook tea party. It made Kiral feel light-headed.
“Come in, come in. It’s a nasty night.” Cynthia Bates invited them in. Once Harriet and Kiral had stepped into the hall, Bates swiftly locked the door again. “I can’t believe you’re wandering around out there.”
Kiral couldn’t either, but to find Harriet, he’d fight his way through Hell if need be.
The old woman pushed her walker and escorted them into the kitchen where two other elderly ladies sat at the table, set with a full tea set and a large plate of biscuits.
“Please, join us, dears. This is Judith and Margaret. Girls, this is my Harriet’s grandmother by the same name, and her handsome young friend, Kiral.” Bates smiled again as she made the introductions and sat down.
Kiral clasped his hands behind his back, acutely aware of his ruined and bloody clothing. His body had healed, but he could do nothing for his wardrobe. It might be a good idea to mesmerize these women to forget they saw him before he left.
“I’ve heard so much about your granddaughter from Cyndi. I pray she’s somewhere safe tonight.” Judith dipped her head in sympathy.
“Thank you. We think she may be checking on her clients.” Harriet took a seat beside the hostess. She tried to tame her hair with her fingers. Kiral bet she felt as out of place as he did.
“I’m sorry, she hasn’t been by here.” Bates shook her head and motioned to the teapot. “A cuppa?”
Harriet paused and then declined. “No, thank you. We won’t stay much longer than usual. Have you heard from Mr. Stewart? We thought to check there next.”
Margaret sniffled, and Bates reached over to take her friend’s hand. “There now, dear. Have a little more tea.” She turned to Harriet and spoke in a quiet voice. “Some wild animal attacked Joe in his yard. It was terrible. Margaret’s little poodle found him and ran crying into the night.”
“I’m so sorry.” Harriet bowed her head and scrubbed at the tears caught in her wrinkles. Kiral edged closer to the crone with the urge to comfort her, but he kept his hands to himself. He wouldn’t know what to say or that such a gesture was even wanted.
“Thank you, dear.” Bates sighed. “I want to convince you to stay here with us, to remain safe through this long night, but I don’t want to imagine anything happening to my Harriet. I can see your young man here looks quite capable of taking care of things.”
Kiral said nothing in return, but merely gave them a little reassuring smile. Things were only going to get worse the longer they delayed. He turned to Harriet. “We should get going, Grandmother.”
“Of course.” Her bones creaked as she stood. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Bates. A pleasure to meet all of you.”
“I’ll see you out.” Bates stood and wheeled her walker expertly around. She unlocked the front door and peered out into the night. “Good luck with your search and be careful. I fear . . .” She let out a shaky breath. “There’s something unnatural happening tonight. I wouldn’t dare say such a thing to the other girls, but by your weary faces, I think you’ve seen your fair share of horrors.”
“Stay in and keep the door locked. Morning isn’t too far away.” Harriet patted the other woman’s arm, and Miller enveloped her in a tight embrace.
Maybe a hug would’ve been welcomed.
“Find our Harriet. She’s a precious girl. I’m sure you know it, but so many of us feel the same way.” Bates squeezed and then released Harriet. She stepped aside so they could leave.
“We will.” Harriet shuffled outside and swallowed with a raven’s cronk.
“Thank you.” Kiral followed the crone and stood guard at the door until it was locked again. He then helped Harriet down the porch steps. “Your granddaughter is well loved.”
Harriet smiled a little. “I suppose she is.”
“She’s very important to all these people just as she’s become important to me.” Kiral strode to the end of the walk and glanced out past the hedges. He nodded once, signaling the way was clear.
The more people they visited, the more precious Harriet became. She’d touched so many lives, nurtured them and brought forth much more good than he had in all his long years of existence. When he touched someone’s life, it only crumbled.
He needed her. Yes, his body craved her, but awe was a poor word for what he was feeling. She was like a goddess or something akin. A tale from his days as a child tickled his mind. Harriet would change his life for the better, and he would make sure she would never have to walk alone in the dark again.
“She’s going to save me, you know.”
Kiral hadn’t realized he said it out loud until the crone tripped. She would’ve fallen again if his reflexes weren’t so quick.
“Save you from what?” She spoke the words with hesitation.
“We have a legend amongst my people.” Kiral glanced at her and hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea of what he meant by that. “The Turks.” It’d been years since he identified himself as such. His accent was slowly fading the more time he spent in America.
“They call them the Al Basti. Women, maybe fae or some other spirits, each tale varies, who seek out men with guilt on their souls.” Kiral pressed his fingers to his chest. “They torment the men in their dreams, boil their blood to fever, and drain their energy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” Harriet huffed.
“That’s what is commonly known about the Al Basti. When I was young, there was more to the myth than that. The people in my town believed them to be Peri. You know this word?”
“Angels,” the crone said softly.
“Yes. They might come to torment the men with guilty souls, but they come for a reason. They help those men face their guilt and bring them to the light.” Kiral’s head tilted back, his eyes on the stars. His chin quivered ever so slightly. “Harriet is my Al Basti. Her blood... it’s like nothing I’ve tasted before. I can’t stop thinking about her. Not just her blood, and yes, I admit that it’s part of it. I can’t help it. I know my f
aults. I remember every one of my sins.
“Last night...” His voice cracked as shame washed over him anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “Last night, I broke. I went looking for a hit. I found what I was looking for. Some pusher had a drugged teen. Not just any teen, a werewolf. There’s magic in their blood too. If Marc hadn’t come along and stopped things, I would’ve drained the kid dry.
“Then after running around, trying to find something to hold on to, I came home and met Harriet in the stairwell. I was at my lowest, and she offered herself to me.” Kiral’s small laugh lacked humor. “I was immediately addicted. You can’t believe what I suffer now. The mania. How much I want to drink from her again.”
He shook his head. “But I won’t. She’s my ultimate temptation. My supreme torment. Through facing it, I will be saved.”
The old woman’s heart was beating so loud it was as clear in his ears as his own voice. What did she think of his revelation? She didn’t appear afraid, but she also didn’t offer an encouraging smile. Perhaps she thought him ridiculous, but no, not with her wisdom. She knew of as many other worldly things as he did.
She stopped and turned to him to speak. Kiral knew he must hear these words.
Yet they never came. The echoing sound of applause interrupted them.
One person clapping.
Harriet startled and twisted as Kiral turned with her and slid in front of her.
“What a lovely fairy tale. You missed your calling as a bard, friend.” A man stepped from the shadows of the trees across the road. No. Not a man. It was that bloody dealer. The prick survived his encounter with Marc.
Kiral hissed, corralling Harriet behind him. She didn’t resist.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. What the hell was the guy doing here anyway?
“I’m sorry to inform you, though, it won’t be your Al Basti or fairy or whatever saving you. No one’s going to save you now.” The dealer clapped once more, and as his hands drew apart, flames erupted between them.
CHAPTER 13
“You again.” Kiral snarled as his hands closed into fists. Without looking back, he said one word to Harriet. “Run.”
Her knees wobbled, but she wouldn’t run even if she could. Frightening as the last monsters were, this guy was different. He looked like any other street thug with the leather jacket, ripped jeans, and cocky grin. But he was something more. Even if she had the shotgun, she didn’t think it would hurt him.
“Yes, me again. I thought you’d be happier to see me since I brought you such a lovely treat last time we met.” The flames danced between the stranger’s fingers. He continued forward, one slow step at a time. “And who’s your friend? Trying to earn your merit badge helping the elderly?” He smiled at Harriet as his eyes flashed red. Then he laughed, wilder than the west wind. “A pretty little white witch, tormented with a curse that would make any demon proud. And here I thought my night couldn’t get any more entertaining.”
Demon. The word chilled Harriet to the bone. Blackness surrounded him. No, not surrounded. He oozed darkness as if he alone created the night.
And the fire. He was the one that would kill Kiral.
Never taking his eyes off the demon, Kiral nudged her with his elbow. “Go. Please.”
“I won’t leave you.” Harriet rasped. Especially not after his tale. Perhaps she was behaving a bit like a silly schoolgirl, but it’d made her giddy. She was his angel. She wasn’t going to leave him to this vile creature.
“How touching.” The demon fluttered his eyes as if he had tears in them. His feigned pout couldn’t win against his maniacal grin. “You can go, witch. Really. I only want the vamp. He and I have some unfinished business.”
“We have no business. I don’t want what you’re selling.” Kiral’s body was rigid, like a statue of a lost god. Even his soiled clothes didn’t take away from his magnificence.
Selling? Harriet didn’t know what that was about, but business with a demon could only mean a few things.
“I’m not selling anything anymore. I still can’t believe you passed up that tasty dog treat. I had picked him just for you.” The demon played with the fire, lazily swirling it around his hands.
Selling. Dog treat. Was this the dealer Kiral mentioned earlier? And Marc saved the vampire from him. This didn’t bode well for Marc or them.
A dozen visions pounded into her mind at the same time. The horrific images brought her to her knees, and she let out a strangled cry. A strong hand was tugging her to her feet even before she stopped screaming.
“Lots of dying going on tonight, isn’t there, witch? And you have your own personal TV screen to view them all. I must say I’m a bit jealous.” The demon chuckled and then lowered his voice. “Does it turn you on? Their futile struggling, the blood, the light winking out in their eyes. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
Bile rose in Harriet’s throat. Beside her, Kiral growled.
“As much fun as it would be to share a moment with you, I really need to gather up your undead protector. My, he’s being much braver than the last time I met him. Just putting on a front for you. Trying to impress the ladies.”
Clearly this demon liked to hear himself talk. He wasn’t rushing in and leaving them as ashes in his path. That meant he wanted Kiral alive. Did he have some other purpose for the vampire? No, it was getting too close to dawn.
“What do you want?” Kiral snapped.
Harriet scrambled for a plan, any plan. She had nothing with which to fight a demon. Nothing of this scope came to mind when she had her vision of Kiral’s death. She really thought she could just sweep in, unchain him, and save him from the sun. Foolish didn’t even begin to describe her childish daydream of rescuing him.
“I want you.” The demon pointed at Kiral and then waved his fiery fingers in the air. “Not like that. You’re too pretty for my tastes. I want you to come with me. It’s as simple as that. I won’t force another treat on you or harm a hair on your head. Promise.” With one finger, he drew a cross over his chest.
“And if I don’t?” Kiral’s voice was flat.
“I burn you crispy, but leave you alive so you can kiss the morning sun.” The demon grinned, and when his eyes turned red this time, they stayed that way.
“No!” Harriet pushed Kiral aside and stumbled forward. “You can’t have him.”
“Grandmother.” Kiral reached for her, and she moved away from his hand.
“Go. Find Harriet. She needs you more than I do.” Harriet disliked playing on his obsession, but it would keep Kiral safe. If he was racing around looking for her, the demon wouldn’t catch him. “Please go find my granddaughter.”
Kiral’s face twitched. Cheeks, mouth, eyes. Finally his mouth set in a firm, thin line. “I will not leave you.”
“But she needs you—”
“I will not leave you.” Kiral repeated more firmly.
Her heart fluttered as her cheeks warmed. He was going to stay with her. She was close to swooning when she remembered what she was trying to do.
“Wait, wait, wait.” The demon walked closer. “Let me get this straight. The witch is trying to save the vampire. The vampire who was earlier rescued by another demon. The vampire who drains the life from people, murders them. The soulless creature within a pretty package.”
Beside her, Kiral cringed at the last bit. Did he truly believe he was without a soul? Harriet could see his aura clearly. A soulless being wouldn’t have one. She was going to tell him so when the demon continued on.
“And she’s sending him after her granddaughter. She’s not even old enough to have a grandkid!” He laughed, flames licking at his arms.
No! This wasn’t the way she wanted Kiral to find out. However much the demon knew, she couldn’t let him be the one to tell Kiral the truth. She scurried forward, ignoring the heat from the fire. “Enough. Let him go.”
“Grandmother!” Kiral lurched forward to be stopped as the demon held up a ball of flam
e.
“Why should I let him go? You don’t frighten me. My minions told me what you did with the wisps earlier. I’d eat those sparkly buggers for breakfast.”
“We both know there’s nothing I can do to stop you. But I do have one thing you might be interested in.” Unintentionally, her voice dropped to a whisper. “My soul. Freely given in exchange for his life.”
“No!” Kiral roared and nabbed her by the back of her sweater, yanking her away from the demon. “Take me! I’ll come freely.”
“Now, now.” The demon waggled a finger. “I do like what’s happening here. You’ve a mighty bright soul, witch. A heavy curse, but it does nothing to hide your light. I would have such a fun time with you.”
“No!” Kiral shouted again.
“Mine for his.” Harriet offered, ignoring the vampire’s protests. She’d save him one way or another.
“But alas, we can’t deal tonight.” The demon tossed back his head in an overly dramatic rock star manner and slammed a ball of fire into Kiral’s chest.
Harriet screamed as Kiral did. She grabbed him when he started to fall, but she couldn’t hold his weight. They toppled to the ground, and she wrapped her arms around him. He shuddered with his pain. His blackened chest still sizzled even though the flames had been extinguished.
“I have a much bigger fish to catch than you or your undead boy toy.” The demon walked over and snatched one of Kiral’s ankles. The vampire kicked at him, but he was slipping in and out of consciousness. “Maybe another night, Grandmother.”
Harriet hung on to Kiral as long as she could. The remnants of his shirt tore off as the demon dragged him away from her. She screamed again and crawled after them.
“Kiral.” She breathed out his name. “I will save you.”
The demon’s manic laugh filled the street. He threw a huge fireball onto the ground and jumped into it with Kiral in tow. The flames flared and flickered down to nothing. They were gone, and Harriet was left kneeling on the pavement feeling as if the bastard had truly taken her soul.
The Oracle & the Vampire (The 13th Floor) Page 6
