Cye. Red hair and eyes like chocolate.
“Oh my God! She means Cyprus!”
One of the women cleared her throat noisily and glared, but Katelina dashed past her into the main room. Kai was still on the couch and Katelina grabbed his shoulder and shook him violently. He turned a questioning eye on her and she shoved the note into his hands. He read it over and handed it back with a shrug.
“Don’t you get it? She’s with them! She’s one of-” A sudden realization dawned. “The bombs! Sadihra said they were usually planted ahead of time but this time they couldn’t be because they were watching everyone. But they’re not watching everyone. They’re not watching the humans!”
Kai grasped her meaning just as the first roar sounded and the building shook. It was too late! Xandria’s twerpy master had called for her, one of them had killed the escorting guard, then they’d planted the bombs and left to detonate them from safety.
Like they had in the other places.
“This is the usual arrangement in this area of the world.”
And that was why they’d started with Turkey. Not because their vampires were superior, but because their citadels would be easiest to infiltrate. No wonder Malick needed to put out videos to lure the older vampires to him. They couldn’t risk this trick in the unsegregated places.
The building rocked again and plaster dropped from the ceiling. There were cries and a shriek, and the guards drew their swords and looked up as if enemies might crash through any moment. The women hurried out of the bedroom, clutching their nightgowns to their bodies and rattling off a language Katelina didn’t understand.
One of the guards shouted, “Stay calm. You will be safe here.” But no one believed him.
Katelina pulled Kai off of the couch and toward the door. He dug in his heels and said, “We should wait.” She shook her head furiously, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, in disgust, she abandoned him and made for the door herself.
She jerked it open and Sorino and Verchiel nearly bowled her over. Without a word of surprise, Kai snatched up his bag, stuffed his battered laptop inside, and slung it over his shoulders. The guards shouted that the vampires couldn’t be there, but another blast tore their attention away.
Katelina grabbed Verchiel. “Where the hell is Jorick?”
“Off being heroic, of course.” He looked up, as if he could see through the plaster to some unknown excitement. “They decided to surprise us at the last minute.”
Katelina shoved the note into his hands and rattled off her theory. The redhead’s grin melted into an appreciative smirk. “See? Leaving you down here was a good thing. You’d have never solved it otherwise.”
Kai joined them, and Sorino held the door for him. The boy hurried into the corridor, and Sorino motioned Katelina and Verchiel out, then swept after them.
A fourth explosion ripped through the fortress, closer this time, and Katelina stopped and clutched the wall. “They must have planted bombs all over!”
“Seems that way,” Verchiel chirped. “Come on, we’ve done this before back home. Though if we don’t hurry we’ll miss all the fighting.”
The guards had abandoned the golden gate, so there was no one to challenge them. They passed the narrow staircase and Katelina grabbed Verchiel’s arm. “She said stick to the back ways.”
The redhead shrugged. “Hey, I’m game if you are.”
Sorino nodded, and the four of them hurried up the narrow stairs. As they neared the top, the sound of battle reached their ears, growing louder with each step; shouts, clangs, the sharp report of fired bullets. It was a war zone and they were willingly running into it.
Crazy.
The stairs ended at a door. Verchiel threw it open and thick black smoke billowed through. Another explosion blasted the fortress, knocking them all backwards and cutting off the lights. Bits of rock and rubble rained through the door and Katelina shielded her face, choking on the smoke.
Without the electric light, the stairwell was lit in a diffused glow that filtered through the smoke. In the gloom she watched Sorino pull Kai to his feet, and she struggled up on her own. Verchiel was nowhere to be seen, and Kai motioned to the door as if to say the redhead had left.
Sorino cast an impatient look at her, and then pulled Kai into the chaos beyond. She hung back, trying to catch her breath, and asked herself why she wasn’t in the Secure Place or hiding somewhere safe, as Xandria suggested. But she knew why. It was the same reason Torina didn’t want to be left behind.
“I’m not useless,” she said and then strode through the door.
The smoke was too thick to see through, and she choked her way through it. She stumbled over rubble to come to a clear spot, and then even her coughs choked off as she stared in horror. Verchiel said they’d been through this before, but he was wrong. It hadn’t been anything like this. She was in what had once been the fountain room, but only rubble and gurgling water remained of the fountain. Two of the walls were completely gone. Through one she could see the neighboring rooms, through the other the foundation and then up and over to the street and the world beyond. Heavy black smoke billowed through the fractures up into the starry sky and street lights shed the only illumination.
The curving stairs were ruins and she could dimly see a pile of rubble where the guard’s station had been on the level above. She could only imagine what was left of the rest of the building; it probably wasn’t much.
Vampires were everywhere. Katelina recognized the symbol of the Children of Shadows. She also picked out the robed Algojo. They moved with deadly precision, hacking and slashing, but not all were a match for their attackers.
The Scharfrichter were dotted here and there among the madness. Wolfe fought with his many bladed weapon. Sadihra stood on a large chunk of wall and manipulated pieces of glass, rock, and wood with a flick of her hands. Hethin, the white haired Scharfrichter, stood before her makeshift platform, fighting off anyone that got too close.
Between them moved guards in their crimson uniforms, like little splashes of blood. Though she searched, she couldn’t find any of the Black Vigil, except Ume, who hacked at her enemy with her ornate sickle.
Verchiel fought against a large vampire whose rippling muscles belonged on a body building magazine. With his small frame, the redhead looked outmatched, but his fast movements left the larger vampire swinging at empty air.
Jorick was on what was left of the floor above. He swung a long curved sword that looked like the weapons the guards used. His foe ducked and swung back, wielding a heavy mace. Jorick dodged, but the weapon impacted a chunk of rubble and shattered it into tiny fragments. Katelina choked back a cry. Vampire or not, if Jorick was struck by that weapon he’d be injured.
She shuffled backwards, unnoticed in the chaos, and tripped over something. She landed in a cloud of dust and saw a severed hand next to her. She choked back a gag and crab crawled away as fast as she could, only to see a boot with a stump of bloody leg sticking out the top. She threw herself back from that and got to her feet in time to avoid what looked like a dismembered arm with a piece of bone jutting out. Vampires had been caught in these explosions and, just as she’d thought, they were no match for them.
A vampire in black dropped down in front of her, brandishing a scimitar. Katelina dove into her pockets, but she had nothing except her camera and the ziplock baggy that had chapstick, a worn metal cross, a toothbrush, compact, and a bottle of nail polish in it. Unless she wanted to jab the tiny brush in his eyes she was in trouble.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
As if in answer, Micah jumped down from the ragged floor above, caught the vampire in a headlock, and twisted until his neck cracked. He grabbed the scimitar as it fell and rammed it through the vampire’s chest, then kicked the dead body aside.
He raised the weapon, as if to strike her, then stopped and laughed. “What the hell you doin’, Lunch? Couldn’t miss the chance to rack up your kill count? Here, you’re gonna need this.” He shove
d the sword at her, hilt first, and she took it dazedly.
“I’m already two up on you,” he said. “So you better fucking get going if you wanna keep up.”
Before she could reply he sprang upwards, grabbed the ragged edge of the floor above, and swung himself up, like an orangutan.
There was a cry behind her and she turned in time to see one of the Children rushing toward her. She knew nothing about swords except what she’d done with sticks as a play acting child, but she shouted a prayer and swung. Her blow glanced off of his axe. He swung and she dodged. With nothing else to do, she lunged at his legs and knocked him to the ground. She didn’t know if scimitars were good for stabbing, but she rammed it into his chest with all of her strength. To her surprise she punched clear through him, into the rubble.
He lay still and she tried to pull the sword out. It was wedged, and she had to put her foot on his chest and pull backwards. His body came up, then flopped back, splashing bright blood on the dusty stones.
She wiped the blade on the dead vampire’s shirt, and then fell back amongst the rubble. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her palms were slick with sweat. What in the hell was she doing?
Her eyes sought Jorick and the comfort he offered. She found him, still fighting on the floor above. He had a gash across one cheek and his left arm hung at an odd angle but, as she watched, he ran his enemy through and kicked their limp body over the edge of the floor.
His eyes landed on her and he blanched. They stood, staring at one another for a moment, and then he turned away to meet an attacker with a clang. She looked for a way up to him, but a vampire dropped in front of her, fangs bared and gun pointed straight at her.
Gun? Shit!
She dropped and the bullet sped past, leaving a burning trail across her shoulder. She cried out, and checked to make sure she was still all there. Jorick roared on the ledge above, and she saw him readying to jump down to her. Before he could, Verchiel sped past, slicing through the vampire’s torso. Katelina turned away as blood splattered her. Verchiel sailed on, calling, “You’re welcome!”
“Katelina, finish him then go below!” Jorick shouted, and turned back to his fight.
She stabbed the sword through the vampire’s chest, and pulled it free again. Another explosion rocked the building, this one deeper, and she realized that below wasn’t any safer. As Verchiel had said, the only safe place was another city.
Still, there was no reason to stand in the middle of the melee. She hurried toward a more strategic place. As she picked her way through the smoke she saw Oren and Torina fighting together. They shared a single weapon, tossing it back and forth between them like a well-practiced circus act. It reminded Katelina of the way Sushel and Quenby had fought.
The building shook again and jerked her from her thoughts. Part of the ceiling crashed down where she had been standing a few moments ago. An arm stuck out of the heap and she shivered; that could’ve been her.
The battle was winding down. The dead lay scattered among the debris, and Katelina felt relief steal over her. This hadn’t been as terrible as she’d imagined. Maybe they’d all live through it.
Then the second wave rolled through what used to be the north wall. They came slashing and snarling like a black surge of death, Ronnell at the head, wearing the ridiculous bladed glove.
Oh God, we’re going to die.
There was nowhere to go, so Katelina dropped into a defensive stance and raised her sword. One of the vampires ran toward her and she closed her eyes and swung with all her might. She felt the impact, and gasped as the shock of it reverberated up her arm. The vampire stumbled back, and looked down to find nothing; no blood, no cut.
He grinned in relief and lunged at her. She thrust the sword point first, and rammed it through his stomach.
He gurgled out a mouth full of blood and stared down at the hilt pressed against his stomach. With a savage cry he lifted his arm to hack at her, then let out a scream. His hand, sword still clutched tightly, dropped to the floor in a spray of blood.
“Man, you suck,” Loren called as he spun away to face another enemy.
He was right. She didn’t know anything about fighting, except how to duck, and the bleeding line on her shoulder reminded her she wasn’t even good at that.
She blinked away tears of terror and frustration and forced the bleeding, screaming vampire off of her sword. She raised her weapon to charge him again when one of the Algojo hacked him with a giant axe. He crumpled to the ground, and the Algojo swung twice more leaving his chest little more than crimson pulp.
Ronnell was in front of her, his glove shiny with blood. He disappeared and a burning slash tore across her back. She spun, but he was gone. Though she couldn’t see him, she could follow his movements by the cries, and then even that faded into the chaos.
Katelina moved behind a pile of rubble and tried to catch her breath. She wiped sweat and dirt from her face with shaking hands and looked for Jorick again. He threw another vampire off of the floor above, and Sorino intercepted it and finished the foe off with his thin black knife. They were all so calm, so collected, why couldn’t she be that way?
Because this is insane.
The Children of Shadows seemed to be everywhere, and she understood the original description of their attack:
“The army moved like a wave, crushing everything in their path.”
That was just what they were doing.
She said a prayer for salvation and, as if in answer, another surge of vampires poured through the broken walls. Instead of the white seal of Memnon, they bore ornate handheld sickles.
The Black Vigil was finally there.
They tore into the ranks of the Children of Shadows. Katelina stepped back and something wet splashed up her leg. She looked down to see a pool of dirty, crimson tinted water, rushing from what was left of the fountain.
The west wall exploded. The force of it threw Katelina into the air. She was vaguely conscious of things flying around her, over her, past her, and then she slammed into the floor. She gasped for air, and choked on the burning smoke that filled her lungs.
When she could breathe again she blinked the dust from her eyes. Where the floor had been to her right was now a gaping hole with bits of metal and twisted wire sticking out around the edges. Her head throbbed and her ears rang. It was like the battle at The Guild, except the ringing stopped faster.
Her head was still foggy, and her legs wouldn’t move. She flexed her toes to make sure they still worked and looked to see a large chunk of stone pinning her down. She pried at the edge, but it was heavy and she was still too breathless.
She fell back to lay amidst the rock and looked across the field of destruction. A lone figure stood tall and angry atop the pile of stone that had been the west wall. Silhouetted against the street lights and the smoke, she could see a slender curving sabre in his hand. He moved and the light shone on his long red hair and his pale face. It was Cyprus.
“Wolfe!” he roared. “Where are you?”
The Scharfrichter stepped forward from the shadows, dusting himself off, his weapon still in his hand. He stopped at the foot of Cyrus’ rubble mountain. “All this to settle a feud over a woman who doesn’t want you.”
“She did,” Cyprus snarled. “Only she never got the chance to say so.” He raised the sword and raced down the mound toward Wolfe. The Scharfrichter tensed, his smaller weapon held as if to deflect the blow.
Craziness.
Katelina shook her head and the world started to make sense again, though only barely. Cyprus was almost to Wolfe when the Scharfrichter threw his weapon. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the redhead’s face.
The impact knocked Cyprus off balance and he fell and rolled down the rest of the way to land in a heap. He was on his feet before Wolfe could get to him, and savagely yanked the blades from his face with a cry. Katelina could see where it had punctured him under the eye and torn part of his cheek, leaving the skin flapping and runn
ing blood down his face.
He threw the weapon aside and brandished the sabre. Wolfe grabbed a piece of twisted metal from the ground and rushed the redhead. Cyprus swung and the sword and metal clashed. The impact knocked both of them back a step, and they came at one another again. Cyprus’ face was twisted with furious hatred, but Wolfe’s was as cold as the surface of a frozen lake.
“She didn’t want you,” Wolfe repeated.
“Then she should have! I’d have lived for her. Instead she died for you!”
Wolfe feinted left, then swung the piece of metal two handed and slammed Cyprus in the knees. The redhead reeled from it and Wolfe managed to slam his weapon into his opponent’s stomach and, with a third flashing blow, into his already wounded face.
Cyprus stumbled backwards, then lunged. Wolfe dodged, but at the last second so did Cyprus and caught the Scharfrichter in the stomach with the sabre. The wound wasn’t deep, but Wolfe fell back, and Cyprus pulled the bloody blade free to fall on his enemy again. Wolfe barely blocked the blow. They pushed off of one another, and Cyprus was back like lightning, his lighter sword faster than Wolfe’s chunk of metal. They locked weapons again, only this time Cyprus whipped out a dagger and shoved it between Wolfe’s ribs with a furious cry.
“And do you even mourn her? Not you, with your duty and your honor. It’s work as usual. Did you cry when they burned her body at the base of the mountains, or did you bother to watch?”
Wolfe grunted with the effort to push Cyprus off of him. “You think you can see things, but you’re stupid.” Free, he jerked the dagger out and threw it to the ground, then pressed a hand to the wound. “You’re not accomplished enough to use your powers the way you think you are.”
“You think I didn’t see it?” Cyprus shouted, waving his sword for emphasis. “I saw the funeral, I saw the flames, I saw you erase her name from the books, and not once did you bat an eye. If she’d known how cold you were do you think she’d still have chosen you?”
Wolfe stalked toward him, lifting his hand from his bleeding stomach to grip the twisted piece of metal with both hands. “You see bits and pieces, but never a full picture, if you did then you’d have known long ago that she belonged to me.”
Children of Shadows Page 33
