Vampire Down (Blood Skies, Book 7)

by Steven Montano

  That had never been the real purpose of the arm, of course. Azradayne had wanted it grafted so Danica would inadvertently destroy the Witch’s Eye and open the gate to the Maloj’s undefined realm of madness and terror. It still made him uneasy – Danica seemed to have control over the device and what it could do, but she’d admitted there had been occasion when she’d nearly overextended the control it granted over her arcane spirit and damaged him without meaning to.

  “You okay?” she asked. Something in his gaze must have given away his dark frame of mind, but considering the circumstances it seemed an odd question to ask, and she seemed to realize that. “Sorry. Dumb question.”

  “No it’s not,” he said, and he put down the supplies he had in hand and moved over to her, sat close so their faces almost touched.

  God, she’s beautiful. She would have smacked him if he’d said it – they were both covered with sweat and grime and bloodstains from their ordeal in Nezzek’duul. Shifting over from the extreme heat of the southern desert to the bitter chill of the Reach had taken them by surprise, but luckily they’d managed to find enough coats, cloaks and blankets to keep warm, at least until they located some better shelter, if there was better shelter to be found.

  He felt tears of fear in his eyes, tried to blink them away. She watched him, and read him without him having to say anything, just as she always had. Her eyes took him in, and she nodded.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “We’re still here.”

  “Yes we are,” he said. He put a hand to her face, so smooth even beneath his rough and leathery touch. She closed her eyes, let his palm slide against her cheek. Her warmth flowed into him. All he wanted to do was stay there, holding her, his skin on hers, her face close to his, her warmness, her love, love he’d not even realized he’d needed until he’d finally found it. He was more afraid of losing her than ever.

  “So what next?” she asked a while later.

  They’d stowed most of their gear except for the tents. What Cross wouldn’t have done for a camel then – they were dragging everything behind them on makeshift sleds they’d constructed from birch wood and twine, and even with Danica’s spirit lending them aid the going was slow. They’d scrapped everything that wasn’t mandatory to survival but they still had a great deal of weight to pull, and no clear destination. One of Thornn’s major disadvantages was its isolated status, which was why it had been the brunt of so many of the Ebon Cities’ attacks. It would take a week to reach Ath by foot, and the terrain between the edge of the Reach and that heavily armored city was thick with craggy hills, razor bluffs and bone-dry ravines. It would have been a long walk even if all four of them were on their feet and in perfect health.

  “I don’t know,” Cross said. His lips were as dry as sandpaper. They’d each squeezed some of their scant water and given a bit to Ronan and Shiv, neither of who stirred, but both of them were clearly alive, which was certainly a start. The sky was bruise purple, devoid of clouds, and the wind was dry and hard and scaled their skin like rough and frozen hands. “We need to find somebody,” he said. “Maybe then we can figure out what the hell happened here.”

  “Our best chance would be back in Thornn,” she said.

  Cross licked his lips and stared east, then west. The Reach stood before them, one of the most inhospitable places on earth, and that was saying something. The ancient sorceries of The Black had scarred the arctic wastes and cleared them of life. Aside from Gorgoloth there was little that lived there willingly, but considering the vampire’s natural proclivity for cold and assuming they really had felled the entire Southern Claw Alliance, Cross wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the Reach was now rife with undead outposts and hunting parties.

  “Shit,” he said. “You know I’m not crazy about that idea, right?”

  “Do you have a better one?” she asked plainly. “I don’t think we’re up for a trek through the wastes, Eric. We don’t have the equipment, and while we’re hauling these two we’re like sitting ducks out here.”

  “But do you think Thornn is worth the risk?” he asked. “Those Ebon Cities banners were pretty plain as day.”

  “And yet I didn’t see a single patrol,” Danica said, not argumentative but half lost in thought, her eyes on the jagged city in the distance. It had looked surprisingly intact, not damaged by weapons fire or ravaged by a soul-magic maelstrom. It just seemed empty, and dead.

  “So we have two very bad ideas to pick from,” Cross said. “Shit.”

  “You already said that.”

  “It seemed appropriate.”

  That earned a chuckle.

  Cross looked around. The way south was rocky and uneven, a treacherous path marked with deep caves, turgid winter streams and harsh crosswinds. The vegetation had been sucked of life and left decrepit and twisted in beds of rock, and the land smelled of ozone and lead, the promise of a storm that wouldn’t come.

  “What about the coast?” she asked.

  “Rimefang Loch?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. We’ll pass back by Thornn on the way. Maybe we check it out, maybe we don’t, but either way we make for the water.”

  Cross nodded. That was maybe two days travel, minus any time they took to investigate the city, and even if they didn’t find supplies in Thornn they’d have an ample resource of fresh water once they reached the Loch’s icy shores. There were plenty of low forests and steep hills to get lost in so they could stay out of plain sight, though the risk of the area being patrolled was greater since they’d be closer to the cities.

  “I’m assuming the Ebon Cities have complete control of the Southern Claw territories,” he said.

  “I agree,” she said. “We need to act as if we won’t find any safety, allies or shelter. And I still think getting close to a body of water is our best option.”

  Cross smiled.

  “It’s been awhile since you agreed with me,” he said with a smile.

  “Don’t get used to it,” she replied with a smirk.

  The going was hard, as they knew it would be. Constant and bitter wind blasted against them from the south, scouring their cheeks and filling their nostrils with ice crystals. The sleds were heavy, and even though he and Danica were both in excellent physical condition they’d also been running and fighting for what felt like weeks, and they had to take constant rests.

  Finding gentle enough paths through the craggy foothills south of Thornn also proved to be more difficult than they anticipated, but it seemed to be the best way to approach the city unseen, as they’d loop away from the open plains near the graveyard south of Thornn, with the sea at their back and the jagged slopes concealing them until they were within a mile or so of the walls, at which point they’d know for sure if the city was occupied or not. After that, if things proved too difficult to handle, they could turn south and push through the sparse forests and foothills, which after a few miles eventually wound down to the lowlands north of Ath.

  They moved slow, careful not to damage their passengers, who looked so frighteningly close to death Cross knew he checked on them much more often than he needed to. Soulrazor/Avenger weighed heavy on his back, oddly silent in spite of their bizarre situation, and Danica assured him that both Claw and Scar, which she’d taken from Ronan, were also entirely subdued. Cross couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  For a time he was content to just walk. The sky was clear and deep and the air was silent save for the sounds of their passage. For all he could tell they were the last creatures on earth, living or dead. He watched Danica as they walked (she insisted on being in front, and he didn’t argue, largely because he knew he’d lose that argument) and smiled in spite of the deep and gnawing fear lodged in the pit of his stomach. So long as they walked there were no decisions to make. Questions about what had happened or would happen were beyond them, impossible to answer while they were stranded on foot in the middle of nowhere. The past few days had been the most peace they’d known since the night
he’d formed the team, when he’d brought three desperate souls together.

  And now we’re all that’s left.

  The past few days had filled him with hope and life, and Cross never wanted them to end, desperate though they were. He didn’t care if that made him a terrible person. He wanted Ronan back, and Shiv, and everyone he’d ever lost, but even with all that had happened he’d never felt so happy.

  This time would end. It had to. He and Danica were not meant for a peaceful life.

  “Danica,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said, pausing a moment to set Shiv’s sled down.

  He set Ronan down, careful to make sure he didn’t hurt the man, and stepped up to her. She watched him with concern, likely wondering if he’d seen or heard something to cause him alarm, and he felt her spirit gel around her in a protective aura, a warm and heady air like stepping into a swamp, but Cross went right up and took her in his arms, and though she was confused she didn’t resist as their lips met, as his arms folded around her, as he pulled her close and let that warmth flow between them, warmth born of love and need.

  They might never know this peace again. He wouldn’t waste what time they had.

  TWO

  SCAVENGERS

  The sun rose. They’d lived to see another day.

  Danica and Cross laid in each others arms for a time after he’d gotten up to go check on Ronan and Shiv. No change, he’d said – they were still asleep.

  It was like she was dreaming. They were meant to be together, she saw that now, but fate – and the spider – had done everything it could to keep them apart. Now, at last, they were where they were meant to be, and all it had taken was the end of the world.

  She cherished every moment, yet felt guilty at the same time. It was as if their happiness depended on others misery.

  That’s the way it’s always been for us.

  He returned to the tent and soundlessly slid next to her, and after a moment she took him in her arms and pulled off his shirt. He made love to her, as he had every morning since their return, and like every morning it had been wonderful, if desperate, almost angry sex. They both knew they had little time left, so they made sure every moment they spent would last. The lovemaking exhausted them for the day, which was probably a mistake, but neither of them cared, and as they lay there afterward, their skin slick with sweat and their naked bodies pressed together, gasping for breath and hair tangled and waves of pleasure pushing up through their bodies, they laughed even as they listened for signs of trouble, even as they both felt foolish for letting their guard down.

  Banks of low-flying clouds moved west with the wind as they readied their gear and secured their friends to the sleds. Danica joked she’d spent much of the past month dragging Ronan around, and they both laughed that it was about time he took a vacation. It felt wrong to be talking about either Ronan or Shiv when they weren’t sure if the two would ever wake, but the alternative of standing and fretting over them wasn’t much better.

  The bluffs south of Thornn were rocky, riven with cracks and undermined with layers of chalk slowly crumbling to dust. Grey weeds poked through holes in the rock. Low-lying mountains paved a course to the southwest.

  They said little, but kept their weapons ready and their eyes on the hills and sky. They still had seen no signs of vampire invaders, and fewer signs of survivors. It was as if both sides had been wiped out, which for all they knew was exactly what had happened. They had just the shotgun and Danica’s G36C, both of which were dangerously low on ammo, as well as the artifact blades and her magic. It would have to be enough.

  The earth glazed cold as they approached Thornn. The sun shone along the same path as the wind, creating shadows which blew off the towers like sand off of dunes. The outer guard posts and gun nests had been reduced to skeletons, most of the gear stowed or stripped away. Frost rimed the road. As they drew close Danica chose to send her spirit into the walls to probe the area, and the first thing it detected was the presence of blood, and hearts beating. Something alive was inside.

  Danica hoped that was a good thing.

  “They’re faint,” she told Cross. “Shielded. One of them might be a mage.”

  “Hopefully that’s good news,” he said.

  The sky was red-gold, strangely free of clouds, and there was nothing to be heard except the ripple of wind and the creaking of the city. Danica’s throat was tight, and fear clenched her stomach. She and Cross both wore black fatigues they’d found on the road, old and dirty things that were nevertheless in better shape than the rags they’d had before. Their cloaks were charcoal, hoods and face-wraps drawn. Weapons held ready, they looked at each other for a long moment before they started off.

  Carefully drawing the sleds behind them, Danica and Cross entered the city. Familiar structures stood silent and abandoned, and for the first time they saw signs of violence – shattered windows, blast stains on the ground, bloody smears, but no bodies. Danica expected to sense the presence of vagrant spirits, the lingering ghosts of the slain, as was often the case in areas afflicted by a great deal of pain and death, but there was nothing. The air was as vacant as the sky. Structures oozed pitch, open manholes spilled rancid fumes, slabs of blackened cloth whipped tight from flagpoles in the bitter breeze. A sense of foreboding surrounded them as they dragged the sleds along the cobblestone street. Danica watched the eye-holes of the buildings, half-expecting something to launch out at them at any moment.

  Her spirit circled them like a hound. He stayed close, scalding the air as he flew a tight perimeter. Now and again she sent him out further, scouting for those life-signs he’d detected before: they were still there, deeper in the city, close to the remains of the old hospital headquarters of the Southern Claw.

  Danica shivered. The air chilled them, and frost smoke rose from the ground. Her alien arm scraped hard against her skin – after months spent getting used to it she expected that pain to subside, and most of the time she didn’t notice it, but now and again the metal shifted at just the wrong angle, the edges ground against her scapula or else rubbed raw on her flesh and she had to bite back a grunt of pain. Memory of losing her arm sometimes came when she used her magic, flashes of the blade, Rake watching on, Geist’s eyes. Some wounds never healed. She was not and never would be whole.

  All of us are missing something. She and Cross had lost more than most, yet there they were, maybe the last two people in the world. It was staggering to think of all they’d been through together. They’d traveled hundreds of miles through burning desert and crippling cold, across forlorn seas and hostile wastes. They knew each other so well they didn’t need to speak. And yet they were both pensive: both knew the dangers of growing too attached to people. They’d both lost those they loved, which was why Danica had tried to tell herself for so long it couldn’t work between them, that it shouldn’t work. The less they had to lose the easier things were. But that’s a lie. A life with nothing to lose isn’t a life.

  They pushed on. Cross nodded towards a junction near the center of the city, close to the old residential district where he used to live before he’d formed the team and purchased the manor. They weren’t far from the shop district, though Danica didn’t imagine there would be much left to salvage, not at this point.

  How long had they been gone? It was hard to remember when they’d last been in Thornn – it was after Cross had left, when the team had warned Pike of an impending Ebon Cities attack – but they’d only been away from Southern Claw territory for a few days.

  Or so we think. Translocative magic had been used to transport their airship all of the way to Nezzek’duul, thousands of miles to the south, and such magic was known to bend time as well as space. Adding that to the fact that they still had no idea how Shiv had enabled Creasy’s dying spirit to transport them back across the world, the truth of the matter was they might have been gone for decades, or longer.

  The city was dim and still and gripped with the smell of pitch. Everything look
ed grey, as if the once red stones had been cast in pallor. Shadows stretched and bled like wax. She and Cross gently set down their charges – Ronan and Shiv were so tightly bound to the man-made sleds they looked like bundles of cloth themselves, their eyes barely visible beneath the face-wraps, their arms bound tight to their chests to keep them from sliding off – and looked around.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think this place looks more like it was abandoned than conquered,” he said.

  “That’s what I think. My spirit still has those lifesigns in his sights. No trace of any undead.”

  “This is just...weird,” Cross said as he turned around in a circle. “We should probably find them. They may be survivors.”

  “Let’s hope they’re friendly,” Danica said.

  They moved deeper into Centertown, towards the remains of the Tower District, where most of the residential structures were located. The streets were narrow and tall, making it seem as if they moved through sandstone valleys. The windows were dark, and even though the sun was unobscured by clouds the buildings were tall enough that only muted light filtered down to the road.

  Her spirit wound his way ahead. He was anxious, as terrified as she was, and it took all Danica had without having to resort to the brute force of her golem arm to keep him in check. She possessed greater control over him than she’d ever had before, but she didn’t like to exercise it, since it meant making use of all the thaumaturgic safe guards set in that bastard limb; better they worked together, not as master and servant. She’d abused him when she was Dragon, thrall of the Ebon Cities, and she still felt echoes of his pain, like a whipped dog coming to heel. She never wanted to feel that again.