Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4)

by Rawlings, Rachel

  The vampire whimpered, actually whimpered. "They'll kill me. They'll kill me."

  I laughed as I knelt beside him. "Why do people always say that when facing this scenario? They'll kill you, we'll kill you. Death is eminent. You can tell us what you know and we kill you quickly or I throw you down the steps to join your fucking friends waiting to ambush us. I doubt they'll give you the option of a quick death since no matter how many times you deny it they'll never believe you didn't tell us where your sire is."

  "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. It must be true if you're this desperate to find me."

  Mason was already standing in a Kali fighting stance with a blackjack whip in one hand and a dagger in the other. Everything slowed. Heartbeats felt like minutes. The witch's hands flared with an ethereal blue flame. Conry growled, sitting back on his haunches preparing to lunge. All in the time it took me to stand and face him.

  "Oh, I couldn't agree more. Since you drugged me and gave me to your little protégé I've grown fonder and fonder of the idea of killing you. I guess I don't need him anymore, now that you're here." I plunged the tip of my sword into the chest of the vampire on the floor. The Retaliator wasn't silver, sun, or rowan wood, but nothing, not even a vampire, healed a wound from my blade. It was one of the few things that killed an immortal.

  "Yes, I suppose he's out lived his usefulness for both of us. It was an elaborate plan just to get you here, but they are the best kind. It would have been so mundane to snatch you from the farmhouse. Elizabeth could have grabbed you any number of times you slipped up and entered the between but where's the fun in that. All these puppets dancing on a string, it's too delicious."

  "Sounds like you've been busy."

  "So have you." He waved his hand to encompass the room and the carnage around us. "Why don't we bring your friends out here to join the party?"

  Vampires casually filed in, dragging Aidan and the others behind them. I thought Sinead had turned the tide with her grenades but I was wrong. There were too many of them.

  We were out numbered and quickly running out of options to get ourselves and the hostages out of this house alive. Our intel had been way off. How did we not know he was here siring all these vampires? There had to be at least twenty, making it close quarters for a fight should the opportunity present itself.

  The spot where Caligula had been standing seconds ago burst into flames. The witch was good but he was better. The sound of her neck snapping was almost as loud as her body hitting the floor. The fire snuffed out when her heart stopped beating. Someone threw up, one of the norms no doubt. Two of the fledglings rushed her body before the blood had a chance to spoil. Then all hell broke loose.

  For once the man who prepared for everything, even his own death, hadn't accounted for something. A veritable feeding frenzy broke out as the newbie vamps went after the still viable blood.

  If they drank too long after the blood went cold and coagulation began, we'd have a serious problem on our hands - like berserker vampires problem.

  Caligula shot across the room, yanking his children off the corpse only to have them dive back in like little piglets fighting for the teet. If piglets snarled, were deadly, and had fangs that is.

  We needed to take advantage of the chaos to get the norms out of there. I grabbed the old piano stool being used as a side table and threw it out the window, motioning to Aidan and Sinead to get everyone out. Aidan fought the burn of his silver cuffs, the skin on his hands sloughing off as he broke free of the bonds. There wasn't time to undo everyone's restraints so he freed Sinead and a couple more who were strong enough to lift people up and out the window.

  With the hostages out of the way, Mason, Conry and I could fight without worrying about mortals getting caught in the cross fire. The local Regulator wasn't the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve.

  I pulled a handful of small glass vials out of my pocket and tossed them on the floor at the edge of the vampires piled on top of the dead witch. Smoke and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air as the holy water worked its magic.

  The fledglings scratched and clawed at the holes the blessed water bored into their skin. Mason's whip cracked the air, the silver corded blackjack splitting the face of one vampire as he drove a silver dagger through the heart of another that had come up beside him. Conry jumped into the fray, tearing away at the undead, while I went after Caligula.

  I swung the Retaliator with enough force to cleave his head from his neck, almost falling when the blade didn't connect. There wasn't time to apply my training. Caligula didn't need to cloak, he moved that fast.

  What I wouldn't give for one of Cash's guns right now. Melee weapons weren't any good when your opponent could be out of blade reach in the blink of an eye - literally. I may be unrefined when it came to swordsmanship but I was effective. I needed to change tactics. One good hit and it was over.

  Deciding that being on the defensive was actually a better strategy when going up against Caligula with a sword - even a deadly fae relic - I waited for him to come to me. Muscle recall had my legs in the stance Mason showed me and my hands in the proper grip.

  Caligula moved forward. I sliced the Retaliator horizontally, hoping to eviscerate him. He jumped backwards, his back arched and stomach pulled in, voiding the strike at the last second. The loose hair hanging around my face lightly brushed my neck as the air shifted with his movements.

  This time I felt him move and was ready when he came up behind me. Thrusting backwards and down with my sword had the pommel connecting hard with his knee cap. He instinctively crouched forward to grab his knee, providing the opening I hoped. With as much force as I could muster I slammed my elbow into his face breaking his nose. My victory was short lived however. He swung wide with a left that slammed into my temple like Thor's hammer, splitting the thin skin along the brow bone. Blood pooled into my eye, blurring my vision.

  Mason threw the vampire he fought against the wall hard enough to shatter her skull. She wasn't dead but definitely down. His Kali whip and knife technique was extremely effective. The dangerous tip of the black snake whip kept most of them back, while he slashed the vampires who were able to get close with his silver blade. Clearing a path to get to me, he pulled his Bowie knife from the chest of a fledgling with a roar, lunging through the ashes.

  I spun to face Caligula and almost vomited in the process from dizziness. Pawing at my left eye, I tried to reset my stance. His hand shot out, fingers clamping on my throat, he pulled me to him.

  A mangled cry tore from my throat as his tongue lapped at the blood flowing from the cut above my eye. His crushing embrace had the Retaliator wedged firmly between us. With my arms pinned and my blade trapped I would never be able to deal a killing blow.

  Caligula's fangs viciously ripped into my neck as the air shimmered behind him. Elizabeth Bathory stepped through the veil, encircling us with arms stained red from the blood poultice. Mason's fingers slipped through my hair, grasping the air left in my wake as the three of us fell into the between.

  22

  Bathory released us once we were alone the between. While I was distracted with training, the Blood Countess had been busy carving out a piece of the grey for herself.

  Without my blood she'd never be able to hold onto it. Even now the between fought the contamination like an infection. Small sparks, like from an arc welder, rained down around us as the untainted particles of the between clashed against her circle.

  Sensing she was losing control of her stolen powers she pried Caligula's mouth from my neck leaving two parallel gashes from below my ear down to my collar bone. With the silver out of my system, nothing would stop her from going straight to the fount. Her power surged as she covered herself in the undiluted blood flowing freely from my wounds. With renewed strength she could keep us blocked off from the rest of the between.

  Still trapped in Caligula's arms I was unable to stop the crush of his mouth against mine. His tongue forced its way in, coa
ting my mouth with the coppery tang of my blood while Bathory's hands slid across my blood slicked skin, stopping to unfasten the blades at my wrists. My stomach lurched. And as much as I despised throwing up, in that moment I prayed I would.

  He loosened his hold as his hands roamed my body. He cupped my ass, grinding his erection into my pelvis. I pivoted my wrist and the Retaliator. I felt the razor sharp edge of the blade slice through his clothes and into his flesh before he realized what happened.

  Throwing me down, he clutched his chest and stomach in a move that mirrored my own. He collapsed, landing hard on his side. No amount of infusions would staunch the flow of blood from a wound by my sword. I watched the light fade from his eyes as darkness crept into mine.

  With a double edged blade there was no way to cut Caligula without cutting myself. My hands, covered in blood and pressed against my stomach, were the only warm part of my body. Cold seeped into my extremities as my body pulled blood in to keep the vital organs functional. I tried to stand only to fall again. Lulled by the ebb and tide as the grey flowed in and out of my wound it became more difficult to stay awake. Unconsciousness threatened to take hold. If I gave in, my death wouldn't be far behind.

  Bathory was lost in a blood craze, oblivious to everything around her. Kneeling in a pool of my blood she painted her body, occasionally stopping to lap at her fingers.

  The sight of her, every inch of her exposed skin covered in my blood, was enough to stave off my death for a few minutes more. I had to find the strength to kill her. I would not die before I killed her.

  My arms shook as I strained to lift the few pounds of perfectly balanced steel. As weak as I was I'd never be able to swing the blade in a horizontal strike. Pulling the hilt back even with my hip, I put all of my weight and the last of my energy into a forward thrust. She must have felt my shift in the air as she rolled at the last second, moving out of my strike zone.

  Swing and a miss, I couldn't stop the momentum and ended up landing hard on my knees. Searing pain shot though my knee cap. The Retaliator plunged into the veil and was almost swallowed by the swill surrounding us. The rot she created in the between continued to spread. I struggled to free my sword from the detritus.

  The residue from Bathory's contamination destroyed my sword. Rust pitted the exposed portion of the blade. I pulled on the hilt one more time, the between finally loosened its hold but too late. Bathory latched onto my back, her heels hooked into my side.

  She fisted her hand in my hair, yanking my head back. Her fangs tore into the base of my neck. I bucked, pulled her hair and tried to flip her over my shoulder but she held on.

  Too afraid the Retaliator's blade would snap, I gave up using the melee weapon. I clawed at her eye, pressing with my fingertips until I felt them slide behind the soft tissue.

  She continued to maul my neck until I ripped out her right eye. Bathory unlatched her fangs but stayed firmly attached to my back. Her right hand connected with my jaw and I heard something pop. It was definitely dislocated.

  I didn't have the time or energy to heal it. My face was swollen, my neck shredded and I had a serious laceration on my stomach from a blade that inflicted mortal wounds. I was knocking on death's door. If I didn't do something quick, death would answer.

  I tried to spindled enough of the between to jump us back to the spot where she had appeared, back to where I left Mason at the vamp house. Bathory felt my pull on the veil and slammed her fist into the base of my skull.

  I went down, face first. She got up, flipped me over and dragged me by the ankles like a rag doll to the center of her circle. She dug her toes into the gash in my abdomen. I would have screamed if my jaw worked. I clamped my hand on her calf, in a futile attempt to keep her from smashing my intestines.

  She slowly wiggled her toes out of my insides and sat on my pelvis. Under her full weight I felt something dig into my back. I still had a small stake on my belt. I slid my hand around and tried to work it free. Bathory clawed at my chest. Her fingernails pressing around my heart. She was knuckle deep in my flesh by the time I unfastened the stake from its holster. This was it. I had one stake, one chance to kill her. My heart pounded and I imagined it bumping against the tips of her fingers as they pried through my rib cage.

  I aimed for her heart and drove the rowan wood into her chest. She swatted my hand away, snapping the stake before I could pierce her heart. The splintered wood punctured her lung. It wouldn't kill her but it was enough to incapacitate her. Paralyzed, she collapsed on top of me.

  It would have been so easy under the dead weight of the vampire to give up and let death claim me. I needed to move before I passed out.

  I fought the blackness at the edge of my vision and pushed Bathory off. I rolled her onto her back. The shards of rowan wood weren't long enough. I needed something else. Too afraid to damage the Retaliator more, I scrambled to find one of my daggers. Blade on hand and completely exhausted I crawled back to the immobile vampire.

  With my head on her chest I listened to the gurgling sound in her lungs as she uselessly gasped for air. I tightened my grip on the dagger and drove it into her heart. I fought the pull of unconsciousness until I was certain she was dead. Lying face down in a pile of ash, I closed my eyes and welcomed death.

  The between already reclaimed the grey spoiled by Bathory's manipulation of my powers. Matter shifted as the layers of reality settled back into place.

  The ash and blood I spilled were absorbed as an offering, payment for the damage done and the cost to repair it. I felt the vibrations from hooves pounding through the between - my ride to the Other World.

  I should stand or at least sit up but the idea of moving exhausted me. Shouldn't I be healed? I mean wasn't that part of the deal when you died? If I had to suffer through eternity with these wounds I would be pissed. If I could stay awake long enough to be pissed, that is.

  It was true, what they say about your life flashing before your eyes. Images of a lonely and unloved childhood, my sister Frankie the only bright spot in an otherwise bleak upbringing. My adoptive mother would be more upset that I met my escort to the Other World in tattered, blood soaked clothes, than my actual death. My time with SPTF, followed by a quick flicker of Matthison and Massarelli's faces. Arawn, my father. I finally had the parental love I craved all my life and now I was dying.

  Aidan's face flickered in my mind. My heart hurt more than any other part of my body as I watched the memories of us play out like a filmstrip in my head. We wasted so much time hurting each other. It was Mason's turn to make an appearance in the movie of my life. Tears streamed down my face as I imagined all the things that could have been. And then there was nothing, nothing but blackness and the physical pain that wracked my body.

  ***

  Why did everything hurt? I was dead for fucks sake. I thought I lived a fairly decent life. I only used my powers for good. Well, except that time in high school, but Janie Bennett had it coming. I would think stopping Bathory and Caligula would have evened things out. I'm guessing not because this had to be what purgatory felt like.

  "Open your eyes, Maurin." Groaning in protest, I swatted at the hands stroking my face. "Come on, open your eyes. I know you hear me."

  "Mace," I croaked. My throat was so dry and I sounded like I suffered from laryngitis.

  "There you are."

  "Are you my escort?"

  "I've been a lot of things but an escort isn't one of them."

  "Then what are you doing here? Who's going to help me cross over?"

  "You mean to the Other World?" He chuckled. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but despite your best efforts you didn't die. You came pretty close, we thought we’d lost you for a while there."

  "What? But the Retaliator... How?" My brain felt foggy and I had trouble stringing complete sentences together.

  "The Retaliator will not inflict a mortal wound against the fae who wields it. Leave it to you to test the limits of that safe guard.”

  "So I'm not de
ad?" Blinking a few times, my mind cleared and I took in my surroundings. There was a familiar crack in the ceiling next to the water stain from the melt after the last blizzard. The dark purple comforter I bought on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond a couple of months ago was pulled up to my neck. I was back in Salem, in my apartment, in my own bed. Home. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  "No, you're not dead but if you ever do something like that again, I’ll kill you." He ran a finger along my collar bone. My body trembled as he traced the scars from Caligula's fangs. "Vampires are more of a threat to you than your sword. If Caligula hadn't taken so much of your blood you would have healed on your own."

  "I dreamt of horses and the Cwnn Anfwnn. It was so beautiful. They were going to lead me to the Other World."

  "I'm sorry to say, the Other World's not as quaint as you imagined. That was your father's idea of a rescue mission. He rode out with the Hunt, searching the between for you. It wasn't until after Bathory died and the darkness she created shifted that we found you."

  "So you rode in on your white horse to rescue me?"

  "Something like that." He gave me a little wink that had my stomach flipping flops.

  "Do I smell coffee?"

  Mason grabbed my favorite mug - the one with all the sugar skulls on it - off the night stand and held it out for me. "You really are a knight in shining armor, aren't you?" I pushed myself up so I could take the mug, wincing a little from the sharp pains in my abdomen.

  "A noble knight wouldn't let his lady throw herself on her sword."

  Finally positioned against the headboard for support, I took the mug. Amalie might be out of a job. The coffee was amazing. Or maybe everything tastes amazing when you wake up after you should be dead.

  If I was a brave woman I would try eating anchovies to test that theory. Thankfully I knew it was stupidity and not bravery that had me doing most of the things I did because I hate anchovies and I seriously doubt a near death experience would change that.