by L. D. Rose
Blood and brain sprayed out the back of the vampire’s head before he went down in a crumpled heap.
Blaze levered to his feet and crouched, eyes searching the length of the car, acutely aware of the exposure from the windows. Boots pounded on metal and he spun around, expecting to find a vampire charging at him. When he found nothing, he realized the footsteps came from above him. But when he looked up at the open escape hatch, he was too late, and ended up kissing the soles of those boots. Hard.
Blaze went sprawling into the aisle, his retinas exploding as his Glock flew out of his hand. He tasted iron but he barely registered the pain as a familiar growl rumbled against his eardrums, setting his blood on fire.
Hector.
The bastard let out a cackle, no doubt spotting the comprehension on Blaze’s face. The sound yanked the monster right out of Blaze, fangs bursting into his mouth as pure, unadulterated hatred surged through his veins.
“You dare come into my house, puta?” Hector hissed as he drew a blade from his chest holster, flipping it deftly between his fingers. “I’ll cut you open and bleed you dry like the fucking pig you are.”
Shaul was right. Hector could’ve been Blaze’s goddamn twin; buzzed hair, smoldering eyes, corded muscle, wearing similar battle gear. The only difference was the tattoos and the scars, since Hector had none. Five years ago, the bastard had been thinner, with long greasy hair and bony hands. He’d bulked up, which infuriated Blaze to no end.
Sick-ass motherfucker.
Blaze snapped the strap of his M4, releasing it. It would only be dead weight at this point. “What’s the matter, Hector, Daddy not giving you enough attention?”
Rage filled Hector’s face, his lips peeling back to reveal fangs the length of knives. Fangs that had buried in Blaze’s flesh more than once. Hector roared as he brought the dagger down, intending to plunge it into Blaze’s belly, but Blaze somersaulted backward, flipping onto his feet, barely missing the edge of the blade. He palmed a KA-BAR from his boot, spinning the weapon as they faced off, two coiled predators thirsting for each other’s blood.
If this motherfucker wanted a knife fight, Blaze would give him one he’d never forget.
Hector kicked the M4 aside as Blaze crooked his free hand, egging him on, lips curving into a sinister smile. “Let’s dance, chicano.”
With a furious growl, Hector lashed out and they tangled in a violent blur of fists, silver, and destruction. Seat cushions tore wide open as blades whipped through the air, smashing into metal and flesh, blood splattering the walls. Hector managed to slam Blaze against a door before he grabbed Blaze’s arm and wrenched it back around a steel pole.
Blaze cried out as his forearm cracked, the KA-BAR dropping from his hand and clattering to the floor.
Hector didn’t waste any time as he lunged for Blaze’s throat, who caught the blade with his free hand, gripping it tightly, throwing Hector off balance. Blaze yanked the blade from Hector’s fist and slammed the heel of his injured hand into Hector’s nose, sending the vampire reeling against the opposing steel pole. Pain reverberated through Blaze’s broken arm, rattling straight into his shoulder, but he ignored it as he flipped the blade in his other hand, the silver covered in his own blood.
The gunfight unfolding just outside the car sounded a million miles away. He knew JJ picked off every vampire who came near the train, allowing Blaze to focus solely on the leech before him. Hector’s face was covered in blood, his body propped against the pole. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, blinking repeatedly. Blaze strode toward him, his breathing ragged from the lack of oxygen in the air.
Then, without warning, Hector struck like a snake, grabbing Blaze’s wounded forearm and twisting it hard as he kicked the blade out of his hand. Blaze let out a painful shout, but Hector cut it short with a head butt, sending Blaze sprawling into the center aisle again, his big body landing between the seats.
“You’re a tough motherfucker now, aren’t you?” Hector spat as he brutally kicked Blaze’s ribs, knocking the fragile wind right out of him. “Un cabrón fucking all the conchas.” He stomped on Blaze’s injured forearm.
As Blaze gritted his teeth to keep from yelping, Hector taunted, “I’ll tell you what, puta. That Elena was a good one. Hot, tight, and she loved to scream. And you know what the best part was? She thought I was you.”
Rage flooded Blaze like gasoline as the well of hatred inside him detonated, blowing all sorts of fuses in his brain and short-circuiting his reason. In a flash, he lifted his lower body, his arm still pinned, and kicked Hector’s knee out with the greatest force he could muster. The knee immediately gave way beneath his boot, tearing ligaments and snapping back at an excruciating angle, filling Blaze with utter satisfaction.
Hector let out a painful scream and collapsed, clutching the damaged limb.
“Who’s screaming now, bitch?” Blaze snarled as he clawed one of the seats with his bleeding hand and propelled himself on top of Hector. Fists flew as they wrestled on the floor of the car, meeting each other blow for blow, tumbling and growling like rabid animals. Blaze ended up flat on his back again, and just as Hector leapt on him, a battered fire extinguisher rolled out from beneath one of the seats, stopping near Blaze’s head.
Hector went for it, but Blaze was faster, grabbing it and smashing the butt into the leech’s face. Hector yelped, reeling as he covered his already injured nose. Blaze managed to pull the pin before the extinguisher slipped through his bloody hands.
With an enraged hiss, Hector came back for more, and Blaze gave it to him as he shoved the pin into the vampire’s eye with a quick, violent thrust.
Hector howled, falling backward and clawing at his face as hot blood and vitreous sprayed everywhere. Blaze’s wounds, heart, and fangs pounded with triumph and fury as he straddled the vampire and beat Hector with his fists, the pin punching holes into the leech’s skull. Completely indifferent to his own injuries, Blaze unleashed his wrath, letting the pain fuel the fire in his veins.
He kept punching when Hector stopped struggling, falling limp beneath his fists. He kept punching as blood spilled all over the floor, painting the inside of the car red. Bone yielded to the force of his blows, breaking apart and piercing his hands.
He kept punching until the leech was nothing but a mess of blood and matter.
“Blaze.”
JJ’s voice was so far away, barely penetrating the din.
“Blaze!”
A strong hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Blaze whipped around and bared his teeth, growling like a wolf interrupted from his meal. JJ stepped back reflexively, letting go of him, tightening his grip on the M4 he held loosely at his side. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead but it was already healing, and he looked a little pale, even for a leech.
Yet his voice stayed calm and even. “I think he’s dead, man.”
Blaze held his gaze, blinked once, twice. He looked down at the mutilated corpse formerly known as Hector.
Realization set in.
He’s dead.
Blaze’s mangled fists started to shake. He focused on them, white hot in his vision, swollen and inflamed. Shards of bone stuck out of his knuckles; blood stained the floor. The business end of the pin was gone, snapped off somewhere in Hector’s skull.
“Give me your knife.” Blaze’s voice sounded ravaged to his own ears. Hoarse, as if he’d been screaming for a long time.
“Why?”
“Just give me your fucking knife!” His bellow rattled the walls of the car, causing pieces of glass to fall from the broken windows and shatter on the floor.
JJ cursed but reached into his boot and pulled out his KA-BAR. He flipped it and offered Blaze the handle.
Blaze snatched it, and in one swift move severed what was left of Hector’s disfigured skull.
Now he’s dead.
Stabbing the blade into a nearby cushion, he used it as a lever to get to his feet. JJ reached out to steady him, but he shrugged off the fed’s hand. Pitching a sigh, JJ plucked Blaze’s M4 off the floor, along with anything else he’d dropped along the way. Blaze stared at the corpse, his breath choppy, feeling as if an elephant sat on his chest. The more blood he lost, the weaker he felt, and the car began to spin. He swayed, doubling over before he caught himself on the seats again.
JJ made a move to grab him before he hit the floor, but the fed didn’t touch him this time, wisely keeping his distance.
Hovering over Hector’s body, his mouth filling with his own blood, Blaze spat on the bastard’s ruined face and inhaled the potent scent of death and retribution.
“Fuck you,” he croaked as the body cooled before his eyes.
He straightened, yanking JJ’s knife from the cushion as he glanced at the fed over his shoulder.
JJ eyed him intently, his expression unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. He held a rifle in each hand.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“We’re coming out.”
Jon’s voice sent a wave of relief crashing over Valerie, nearly sapping the strength from her legs. All had been quiet on the surface for the past two hours as they agonizingly waited for both men to return.
“I’m going to help them.” Dax resounded in her earpiece, the relief evident in his voice. “Hold your positions.”
“Copy that,” Kasen replied. “Jon, are you both all right?”
Valerie desperately wanted to hear Blaze’s voice but he never spoke a word. “Nothing you can’t fix, doc,” Jon said smoothly, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice.
Dax’s dark figure moved toward the pagoda like a shadow, a knotted rope coiled around his shoulder. Valerie kept her M4 trained, a fresh burst of adrenaline washing away the soreness in her arms. He leapt inside as time ticked by, excruciatingly slow. After what seemed like hours, three shapes emerged from the pagoda, one staying behind while the others headed for the northwest corner.
Jon circled the pagoda once, planting C4 along the outer walls. Blaze leaned heavily on Dax as they emerged into the open, Dax carrying the brunt of his brother’s weight. Valerie’s heart thumped as Blaze’s big body struggled to remain upright on legs that shook.
He’s hurt. Then, as if he’d heard her, he went down, and Dax caught him before he hit the ground.
It took everything in Valerie’s power not to drop her weapon and run to them, especially when Kasen bolted from his position. She kept her stance, kept on scanning, but her focus was shot to hell. Kasen scooped up Blaze’s free arm and both men hauled him off to the Jeep near 44th. As soon as they were behind the west wall, Jon darted out from the pagoda, running straight toward her.
“Fall back,” he shouted into the earpiece. “Fire in the hole!”
Valerie broke her position and ran for the Jeep parked near 42nd. As soon as she skidded behind its protection, the explosion rocked her off her feet, turning night into day with a brief mushroom cloud of fire. The ground tilted and shook below her as she kissed the asphalt, covering her head with her hands. The deafening roar of an avalanche followed as Grand Central Terminal’s main concourse gave way, collapsing onto the lower levels below.
The remaining walls went down next, booming like thunder as they tumbled inward, their foundations sliding out from under them. Jon landed beside her near the back of the Jeep, diving for cover as two M4s hit the curb. Rock and debris pelted the area like hail. A thick blanket of dust rolled over them, erasing all visibility.
When the debris settled, Valerie looked up, gravel sprinkling the ground around her. Jon propped himself on his forearms and spat dirt, letting out a low curse. Valerie reached for a handhold on the driver’s side mirror, lifting herself enough to peer over the hood of the Jeep. Grand Central Terminal was now a huge crater in the earth, obliterating any possibility of future access to the main tunnels. The MetLife building suffered minimal damage and appeared to be stable, along with the rest of the neighboring structures.
Or at least, she hoped.
Pushing away that morbid line of thought, Valerie turned her attention to 44th, where Jeep number two still remained blessedly intact. She saw movement behind it as the backseat door opened. She impulsively made a break for it, thinking of nothing but reaching Blaze, but Jon cut her off, stopping her short before she could even get past the Jeep. He went from horizontal to vertical in a matter of milliseconds, standing in front of her with his hands spread, crouching slightly and blocking her passage.
“You don’t want to go over there, Val.”
She recoiled, heart in her throat, tightening the grip on her M4. Her instincts screamed leech while her mind vainly tried to convince herself otherwise. “What are you hiding from me?” The shrill of panic edged her words. She sounded terrified, even to her own ears.
“Blaze isn’t himself,” Jon warned, vampire eyes flashing with that nocturnal sheen. Dried blood spattered his forehead and his hands, his body covered in dust, but he had no signs of injury. Bastard never gets hurt. “He lost a lot of blood and his mind isn’t right.”
Valerie stepped toward him, determination driving courage back into her voice. “I need to see him.”
“You don’t understand.” Jon reinforced his stance and she knew she’d never be able to get past him, not with his preternatural superpowers. And for that reason alone, she didn’t play games with leeches—she just killed them outright. “He’s hungry and he’s senseless. If he sees you, smells you . . .” He trailed off, letting her mind fill in the blanks.
She didn’t want to fill in the blanks, didn’t want to believe that. “He won’t hurt me.”
“Everything cool over there?” Dax said over their comm links, concern in his voice.
Jon lifted his hand to his earpiece. “Yeah, we’re cool.” He just stared at her, his onyx eyes hiding thousands of secrets, much like they had when they were human and chocolate brown. They spoke of experience; real, raw, and buried deep, saying more than words ever could.
“What do I smell like?” Valerie wished he’d stop looking at her like that.
The question threw him off guard, but at least he answered. “Jasmine. You smell like jasmine.”
“You can smell me?” The idea made her stomach twist into knots and she tasted bile at the back of her tongue.
He kept all emotion off his face as he nodded. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”
Her eyes widened as a hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up inside her. His lips twitched, the slip of dark humor reminding her of who she spoke to.
A vampire, yes, but this vampire was still Jonathan Kerr.
“Look, why don’t I drop you off at Veronica’s,” he offered, gradually relaxing his guard. “She’s alone and probably worried sick. She could use some company and definitely some help.”
Valerie remembered the ER in Veronica’s basement, imagining the doc tending to vampire victims by herself. Her gaze flicked to the Jeep in the distance as Kasen hauled Blaze into the backseat before climbing in with him.
Torn, frustrated, and scared out of her damn mind, she muttered, “You think he’ll hurt me.” She made it a statement, not a question.
“Please, Val, as soon as he’s straight, he’ll know where you are,” Jon urged. “Trust me on this one.”
Trust. It would be the first time she’d ever trusted a vampire’s word. “You promise he’ll be all right?”
“Cross my heart.” He made the actual sign. “I promise.”
Jeep number two started its engine with Dax in the driver’s seat. “What’s the hold up?” he barked into their earpieces. “Let’s get the hell out of here, now!”
Jon held her gaze, unwaver
ing, waiting for her assent. He acted like he gave her a choice, when in reality he’d just backed her into a wall. They weren’t going anywhere unless she agreed.
“Okay.” A tremor escaped into her voice. She hated that helpless sound. “I’ll go. But if you’re lying to me, next time I’ll make sure that bullet hits its target.”
Jon nodded, expression grim. “Fair enough. Now get in before this whole place falls down on us.”
SEVENTEEN
Cyrus braced his elbows on the galvanized steel railing, watching Grand Central erupt like a volcano below him.
The deafening shockwave reverberated through the area, rattling the neighboring structures, including the Chrysler building. The edifice groaned, but Cyrus remained perfectly still as the heat of the explosion blasted over him and up into the night sky. Up here on the 61st floor, the stainless steel gargoyle of an eagle’s head looked on with him as both Jeep Wranglers took to the Manhattan streets, vanishing from sight.
Yet another victory for the Senary.
He set his jaw. Though displeasure flared at Hector’s loss, he wasn’t surprised. He’d ordered Hector to keep Blaze alive, but from the way things had progressed, Hector’s intentions had been nothing short of death. Cyrus should’ve put his progeny down himself after the incident with the car bomb, but he’d given Hector a chance to redeem himself, as usual. As always. Nevertheless, Hector had spiraled out of control, as usual—as always—and if Blaze hadn’t destroyed him, Cyrus certainly would have. Unlike Konstantinov, he knew how to keep his spawn in check.
