Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2)

by Gail Z. Martin

  “Hey soldier boys!” I yelled. “We could use a little help here!”

  Bo got his ghostly teeth into Crow’s thigh, and refused to let go. The ghostly old soldiers swept forward, some toward Crow and others toward the monster Chuck battled. Like Bo, they were solid enough to grab arms and legs, dragging the fallen angels back and slowing them down. I was willing to take all the help I could get.

  While Crow and Asian Dude struggled to get loose, my gaze fell on the silver candelabrum under the memorial tree canvas. I dove for it and came up swinging. Damn, it was heavy. Holding it by its base, I swung with both hands, slamming it into Crow’s head so hard I crushed the side of his skull. Blood streamed down his ruined face and fluid poured from his eye, but he kept on coming.

  He smacked his fist into me and sent me reeling. I lost Josiah’s pistol out of my belt, and it went spinning away. Even though I was seeing double from the impact, I swung the candelabrum again, aiming this time for the front of his face. The silver burned his skin as it made contact, breaking his nose and caving in his cheekbones. His remaining eye fixed on me with a bone-chilling hatred.

  Crow raised his fist to hit me again. Bo snarled and chomped down on the fallen angel’s wrist, while the old soldiers tackled him, throwing him off balance. It was the break I needed. Running with all my might, I angled the candle-holder side of the candelabrum toward the Nephilim and charged at him with my full strength, ramming the six separate prongs into his chest with enough force to break ribs. Then I let go of the candelabrum with my right hand and shoved my palm right against his chest. I let my athame fall down my sleeve into my hand, called on my power, and blasted that cold force right through his body at point-blank range.

  It tore a hole right through his body, as if I’d shot him with a cannon. Crow sank to his knees and fell face-first onto the blood-covered floor, then disappeared.

  That left the Asian Dude in full monster mode. It swung a clawed hand at Chuck, but he ducked and got in a good, deep slash with his sword. The bloody blade’s silver gleam betrayed its magic.

  I didn’t want to get close enough to Asian Dude to try my candelabrum trick again, but I whacked it good on the wrist when it tried to take a swing at me, and got backhanded out through one of the ruined windows for my trouble. Lucky for Baxter, who was still in my backpack, I fell on my side. The walled garden had been great for keeping befuddled residents in, but now that we needed a way to escape, it made it damn near impossible to easily get out. The air was filled with smoke, and part of the roof was burning. We were running out of time.

  I picked myself up, aching all over. My lip was swollen and bloody, and the gash I’d taken on my arm was bleeding pretty badly. The scratches from the Nephilim’s claws burned, and if I survived the fight, I’d have to deal with their poison.

  My chakram glinted in the sun, and I grabbed it, running back in to the fight. The last Nephilim was heading for Judy and Mr. Thompson. Chuck was on the floor, crawling to his knees for another round.

  “Hey ugly!” I yelled, trying to distract Asian Dude. I hurled mychakram, and caught it in the neck, but it wasn’t straight on, so the razor disk just loosed a fountain of black blood instead of taking the monster’s head off. Now it was really pissed.

  Mr. Thompson croaked a word of power, and a white blast shot from his cane, rooting the Nephilim to the floor with a thick layer of ice from the waist down. Some of that ice made the tile slick, and I slid, and slammed into the memorial tree canvas on my left side, knocking the wind out of me.

  Judy fired off another green blast from her ring, hitting Asian Dude square on. Bo sank his ghostly teeth into the Nephilim’s right leg, while the old soldiers rushed the monster from the front. Chuck came up on one knee and aimed the biggest damn handgun I’d ever seen in my life at the fallen angel’s back.

  As soon as my skin touched the memorial tree artwork, I felt a surge of powerful emotion: sadness, hope, acceptance, and even joy. I was drained and fading, so I latched onto the vivid memories and feelings that permeated every inch of the canvas. The artist’s passion. The grief of family members. The dedication of nurses like Judy. The bittersweet memories of people like Mrs. Butler.

  I thrust my power into the canvas, pulling the surge of those emotions into me, recharging my magic. And then I sent it all blasting toward Asian Dude with a full-throated battle cry of defiance, feeling as if I had opened a fire hose of magic that poured through me and out through my raised palms.

  My blast of magic hit just as Chuck pulled the trigger, and my head rang like a bell at the sound of the shot. The bullet and my force magic tore through Asian Dude, taking off its right arm and half of its back and showering the room with gore and blood. The bullet slammed into the door to the reception area, splintering it from top to bottom.

  The last Nephilim collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap. Small ash heaps marked where the other fallen angels’ bodies had disintegrated. The old soldiers saluted and winked out, along with the rest of the ghostly onlookers. Bo barked at me urgently, as if to remind me that the building was on fire. Like I could forget. Chuck was crawling around, gathering up our weapons and stuffing them in his bag.

  Even with the broken windows, the smoke was getting thick. My lungs ached, and my eyes stung. Baxter had gone quiet in my backpack and I was worried. Overhead, the ceiling creaked ominously. In a few more minutes, it wouldn’t matter that we had defeated the Nephilim. We were all going to be dead from the fire.

  “Get everyone into the garden!” I yelled to Chuck. It might be walled, but it was outside, and there had to be a door somewhere for lawn maintenance that we could use to escape. Then again, it was probably locked to keep the residents from wandering off.

  “You get the nurse. I’ll get Thompson,” Chuck ordered. We sucked in deep breaths of air, then charged back into the activity room. The smoke was thick enough that it was like fighting my way through heavy fog and it hurt to breathe. I found Judy slumped over Mr. Thompson, grabbed her by her wrists, and yanked her toward the garden with all my might. It wasn’t gentle, but it beat burning to death.

  Chuck was right behind me, carrying Old Man Thompson in his arms. We reached the far wall of the garden and looked back toward the nursing home. Most of the roof was on fire, and it looked like it could collapse at any moment.

  “There’s a door!” I said, pointing farther down the wall. Chuck pointed his gun at the lock and fired. The door swung open into the parking lot, which was starting to fill with emergency vehicles. Just as Chuck fired, the roof’s main beams snapped with a crack as loud as gunfire, and the whole thing collapsed inward with a rush of flames and embers.

  Chuck shouldered Old Man Thompson’s limp form, and I had my shoulder under Judy’s arm, dragging her with all my might.

  Chuck and I made our way halfway across the parking lot before we collapsed. Firefighters rushed past with their hoses, but it was too late. Palmetto Meadows was gone. I dropped to the ground, sobbing beside Judy who was scratched and cut from having been dragged halfway across an asphalt parking lot. But she was alive, dammit. And so was I.

  I looked for Chuck. He was doing CPR on Mr. Thompson, but I had the sinking feeling that it was too late. Paramedics ran toward us, shouting, but I was too hazy to understand what they were saying. One of them pressed an oxygen mask over my face and tried to make me lie down, but I fought him off, then pulled Baxter from my bag. He was struggling to breathe, and before the EMT could stop me, I tore off my mask and put it over the dog’s face. The paramedic didn’t argue, he just got another mask for me, while another member of his team took care of Judy. A paramedic eased Chuck away from Thompson and got him a mask, while two more took over caring for Thompson, giving it their best shot.

  Baxter coughed and snuffled, but he was breathing more easily, and I hugged him close. The paramedics loaded Judy onto a cart and put her in an ambulance.

  Another piece of the roof collapsed, and in the chaos, Chuck managed to get to his feet and thr
ow his backpack with all of our weapons into his car before anyone noticed. Thank God: if someone official had glimpsed even half of what was in there, we’d be headed to prison before dinnertime.

  Chuck refused treatment, but the cut on my arm was bad enough that I knew I was going to need stitches. Antibiotics, too, although whether they would be good against Nephilim taint, I wasn’t sure. If they weren’t, Mrs. Teller and Dr. Zeigler could fix me up. I was groggy and sore, bruised from head to toe, and my lungs felt like they were on fire, but all I could do was hug Baxter and marvel that we were still alive.

  After I could talk, I tugged on the sleeve of the EMT who was giving me oxygen. “What about the others?” I rasped. “The patients?”

  He looked away. “I’m sorry. You four are the only ones who made it out.”

  THE DRUGS THEY gave me in the hospital knocked me out while they stitched up my arm and sent me into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up the late afternoon sun streamed through the window, and Teag sat next to my bed.

  “How –” I started to ask, but my throat was too raw to finish. Teag helped me sit up enough to drink from the glass of water by the bedside.

  “I hear things,” he shrugged. Then again, it would be like Teag to have his computer to pop up an alert if I ever get admitted to the ER.

  “Baxter?”

  Teag smiled. “He charmed the firefighters and the EMTs and was eating someone’s sandwich when I arrived. Pretty tough for such a little guy. Maggie’s watching him at your house. We closed the shop early.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. “Chuck and Judy?”

  “Chuck’s the one who called me,” Teag said. “He’s banged up, but says he’s been worse. I can’t get anything official on Judy, but I think she’s going to be okay.” He gave me a look that told me that he knew more than he was saying and not to ask questions while other people might be listening. Which meant he had hacked the hospital computer. “Mr. Thompson?”

  Teag shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

  “All those people –”

  “Yeah. I’ve been watching the headlines on my phone. No complete death count yet.” I could hear the sorrow and anger in his voice.

  “Sorren.” I didn’t have to elaborate.

  “Yeah.” Teag’s one word spoke volumes.

  How do we tell a vampire that his last mortal lover is dead – murdered by an old enemy to strike a blow at him? I didn’t relish having that conversation, but I also didn’t want Sorren to find out on television. “He’s not up yet.”

  Teag shook his head. “Soon.”

  We sat in silence for several minutes, and then I heard footsteps coming our way. Teag tensed, and while he had not brought any weapons into the hospital, as a martial arts champion he could do pretty good damage without them. The curtain pulled back, and Detective Monroe stood in front of an angry nurse.

  “I am going on record as having advised against this,” the nurse said. “She’s only just woken up.”

  Detective Monroe didn’t look worried. “I’ll be brief.” She looked at me, took in my injuries, and shook her head. “You, again. Just unlucky, or is there more to the story?” Her voice was brusque, but she didn’t seem quite as harsh as before the attack after the fundraiser. I was hoping that Sorren’s compulsion had stuck. She was the last person I felt like dealing with right now.

  Teag bristled, but I signaled him to cool down. “Hello,” I rasped. “I feel like hell.”

  “What do you know about the fire?” she demanded. I reminded myself that despite Sorren’s glamouring, I was one of the surviving witnesses to the fire at the nursing home, and since Monroe knew me, it was only natural for her to come looking for information. The rudeness was nothing personal.

  I shook my head and winced. Every muscle in my body ached. “Nothing. We were in the activity room. All of a sudden, there was smoke.”

  “Therapy dog day?” she asked. I nodded. “Anything unusual?”

  Where would I even start? “There was a new nurse named Becky. She was acting really strange right before the fire started.” That much was true. It hurt to talk, but I figured Monroe wasn’t going to leave until she got something useful.

  “What about the other nurse, the one who survived? Judy.”

  “We were trying to get patients to safety. It all happened so fast.” I had a coughing fit that felt like someone was tearing my esophagus with fish hooks. Monroe winced.

  “How about Chuck Pettis? You know him?”

  “Seen him around.” I used the minimum number of words possible. Full sentences hurt more. “Usually at the nursing home.” True again. I generally only saw Chuck if we were working on a situation, or during his visits to see Mr. Thompson.

  “Know anything about the old guy who died in the parking lot? Thompson?” Monroe’s voice was brusque, but I saw a glimmer of emotion in her eyes. The deaths made her angry, too.

  “Played checkers. Liked Baxter. Grouchy.”

  The nurse came back to the doorway. “Time’s up, officer. Doctor’s orders.” I could see by the glint in the nurse’s eyes that she didn’t mind pulling rank to get this interloper out of her domain.

  Monroe gave me the once-over again as if to assure herself I hadn’t faked my injuries. “All right,” she said. “We were done anyhow.” She met my gaze. “I may have more questions. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  With that, Monroe departed. After the nurse had seen her out, she came back to check on me. “I’m so sorry,” she said, refilling my glass of water. “I tried to get her to come back later, but she insisted, and we can’t do much when it’s the police –”

  I fluttered my fingers. “It’s okay.” But I was thinking about the nurses at Palmetto Meadows who had fussed over Baxter and who died trying to protect their patients. The lump in my throat made it hurt worse, and tears started.

  The nurse shook her head. “See? I knew she shouldn’t have bothered you so soon after everything. Why don’t you try to rest?” She glanced at Teag as if to shoo him out, but I managed a whimper and a small headshake, and she relented.

  “All right, if she says so,” the nurse said to Teag. “But let her get some rest before we sign her out.” They had promised me I could leave around seven, and I was going to hold them to it.

  When she left, Teag leaned forward and gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “We’re not going to leave you alone,” he promised. “I’m staying to take you home, even if they make me sit in the waiting room until then. Maggie’s at your house for a while – she absolutely insisted – and then Father Anne will be over to sit with you until midnight. Chuck said he’d stand guard overnight, unless Sorren wants to.”

  He slipped my cell phone into my left hand. “Keep this where you can reach it.” Then he brought me Bo’s collar and my wooden spoon from the bag in my dresser, fastening the collar on my left wrist and giving me my athame in my right. “Better have these handy, too.” He managed a slight smile, but I knew he was worried about me.

  I fell back asleep, and the next thing I knew, it was time to leave. I didn’t relax until we were in Teag’s car, pulling out of the parking lot without any Nephilim in sight. I sighed and leaned back in my seat.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “That depends on you,” Teag said, sliding his gaze my way for a moment. “How are you – really?”

  “Exhausted, but otherwise not as bad as I expected,” I answered truthfully. My throat didn’t hurt quite so much now. “The cut on my arm was deep. They stitched me up, but I’d like to get Mrs. Teller or Sorren’s doctor to take a look at it, just in case there was any taint on that thing’s claws.” I’d rather not do battle with the forces of Hell for a couple of days, but I knew we might not have the luxury of choosing the time and place.

  “I already thought about that,” Teag said. “And Mrs. Teller is expecting us. Plus I did some digging on the Darke Web, to see what I could find on Watchers and Judges,” Teag said. “Most of it we knew. B
ut I found something interesting. Bringing a Watcher through seems to unbalance the supernatural status quo. Meaning that whenever a Watcher comes through, there’s usually also some kind of big supernatural brouhaha.”

  My mind raced. “So –”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I tracked the weird stuff and attacks against when the Watcher circles showed up. And I’d say the theory holds true.”

  I groaned. “Great, but does it tell us how to predict another Watcher? Or what happens right before the shit hits the fan? Because if we’ve got to be busy fighting off Nephilim and giant leeches and crazy ghosts, it doesn’t leave much time to fend off Sariel and his Watchers.”

  Teag grinned. “I’ve got a theory, but not a good way to test it. From everything I’ve pulled together, it looks like the stairway disappearances happened a day or two before the big supernatural disturbances. And the most violent disturbances happened near where the Watcher was being brought through.”

  I thought about it for a moment. The Old Jail. The power plant. Tarleton House. Stairway disappearances happened before all of them, and they had all been places where we fought off monsters.

  “But there are only three rings that we’ve found,” I protested, thinking aloud. “Sorren said there had to be five Watchers for Sariel to turn into the Judge from Hell.”

  “About that,” Teag said, his voice tight. “Ryan called not long after you left the store. He and his team had gone out exploring again. They went out to that abandoned motor lodge – used to be the Debonair Motel back in the Sixties, and it’s been abandoned for decades.”

  I knew the place. It was one of those one-story drive-up places where all the rooms opened toward the driveway, like something that belonged on Route 66. When the big highway opened, the Debonair Motel was a casualty. It closed a long time ago, but the building still stood, looking more decrepit every year.