by Devyn Quinn
That made sense. The faster they did the job, the sooner they could get the hell out of this place. Hanging around a cemetery was the last thing he wanted to be doing tonight. He couldn’t help it, but something nagged at the back of his mind, a bad feeling he just couldn’t shake. The cult seemed to have redoubled its efforts to increase its numbers. Even in the wake of Katrina, there hadn’t been this many dead bodies to follow up on.
Not that we were able to, he reminded himself. Jesse Burke had slipped right through their fingers. What was more, she’d managed to remain hidden even after she’d returned to New Orleans. And if one had eluded them, there were more.
Maddox sighed as he unzipped his backpack and pulled out a flashlight. “I won’t be more than ten minutes. Fewer, if possible.” Wriggling through the gap, he lowered himself into the grave.
Though deep, the grave was narrow. There was barely enough room for his legs to straddle the casket. Legs spread wide, he sat down, placing his backpack within easy reach. Flashlight in one hand, he groped along the edge, unclipping the latches that held the viewing lid in place. The move was automatic, something he’d done thousands of times.
He paused a moment to catch his breath, wiping a thin layer of sweat off his brow. The cramped airless space was beginning to wear on him.
Gathering his nerve, Maddox lifted the lid. As expected, a young woman lay encased inside the white velvet interior embroidered with a spray of delicate pink roses.
Maddox aimed his light on the face of the former Kristine McClain. Although her skin was white as wax, her hair and makeup were perfect. Hands crossed over her chest, she might have been asleep, a beauty awaiting the kiss of her fair prince to awaken her from slumber.
Unfortunately, this young beauty was dead. Kristine’s spirit had vacated her earthly shell. Something else had moved into her body—something wretched, dark, and utterly evil.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Maddox checked the girl’s throat. The mortician who’d done the work on her body was a skillful man, and he’d well concealed the damages to Kristine’s body. Her throat was heavily bruised. There were two sets of punctures at the base of her throat.
He lifted one of her arms, pushing up the sleeve. The insides of her forearm were also bruised. More punctures dotted her porcelain skin.
“Well?” Reyen called down into the depth.
Revulsion coiled tightly in Maddox’s gut. He let her arm drop. “This is a definite,” he answered. “She has all the marks.”
Reyen grunted. “Let’s get her done and get the hell out of here.” Another deep grunt followed. “This thing is gettin’ heavy.”
Maddox returned to his backpack, pulling out a leaded iron stake and a hammer with a huge, wide iron head. Jesse’s mistake wasn’t showing up with a stake. She’d simply had the wrong kind. Wood was no good against the Telave. Since the girl was in the grave and an easy mark, all he had to do was pin her down. One through the heart would do the job just fine. The consecrated silver core would poison the demon inside, effectively killing it within minutes. He used a sawed-off shotgun only when the vamps were up and around and he therefore needed a wider spread of shot to stop them dead in their tracks.
Balancing his light on the edge of the coffin, Maddox positioned the stake over the girl’s heart, pushing the tip into the rib cage. He wanted the strike to be clean and fast. “Let my hand not waver,” he prayed under his breath and lifted the hammer. By the time one of the Kindred showed up to dig it out, all they’d find was a dead body—one that wasn’t getting up again.
Ever.
The former Kristine McClain opened her eyes. And then she smiled. A nice set of fangs was very prominent, sharp and shiny.
Maddox found himself staring into the eyes of evil, and he read his own death in the newly animated vampire’s expression.
A sickly grin stretched the undead thing’s mouth wide. Its hands immediately shot up, closing around his wrists. Sharp nails tore into his skin.
Caught by surprise, Maddox tried to stand up. “Jesus Christ!” Jarred from its place, the flashlight disappeared, dropping down through the narrow opening between the wall and casket before striking the ground. Legs pinned on either side, he had his boots hung on the swing bars that allowed the coffin to be carried. His feet might as well have been nailed to the ground. He couldn’t move from the waist down.
Hammer in one hand, stake in the other, he tried to pull free of his attacker. “Get back, damn it!”
The vampire held on tight, its mouth open wide, and a screech tore from its throat.
“Holy shit, it’s up!” he heard his partner call from above.
Maddox didn’t have time to glance up. “You’re fucking right it is,” he shouted back.
“Somebody’s coming,” came the return reply. “I have to drop the slab.”
Maddox’s heart seized. “Don’t you dare—” He never got to finish the sentence. He barely had a second to crouch before Reyen let the slab above his head go. The heavy stone block scraped back into place. The five-foot-deep grave was suddenly several inches shorter.
And he was six-four.
This isn’t good, he thought in panic. A bad night had just gotten worse.
The vampire released a feral snarl. Its face was grotesquely darkened and ravaged with hatred as it attempted to pull one of his arms toward its snapping mouth. It was hungry, eager to nourish itself.
Heart pumping pure adrenaline, Maddox reacted instinctively. He bent toward the nearest hand wrapped around his wrist, sinking his teeth into the creature’s fingers. He bit deep and hard, forcing himself not to gag as the taste of formaldehyde-tainted skin burned his tongue.
Grip falling away, the undead howled. Sharp claws sprouted from the tips of its fingers, flying blindly toward his face, before it latched on and pulled.
Agony ripped through Maddox’s skull as the vampire sliced him from forehead to jaw, barely missing his eyes. Hot blood gushed from the wounds, creating a mask of fiery pain. His ears rang, his vision blurred by the blood flowing from the deep trenches the demon’s poisonous fingernails had created. The thick metal stake slipped from his fingers seconds before he pressed his palm to his burning face. He tasted his own blood and gagged.
Enticed by the smell of blood, the undead thing screeched louder. “Feed,” it muttered in a voice that barely sounded human. “Must feed.” Its body still half-trapped by the lower portion of the casket, the beast was attempting to wriggle out of its cocoon.
Maddox knew the vampire would fight his every effort to stop him, but his anger and determination gave him the strength to keep fighting. Since he was blinded, his instincts took over. He was stronger than the newly risen fledgling, which would be near starving after inhabiting an embalmed corpse. This gave him the edge he needed.
Using the advantage of his semistanding position, Maddox threw his weight behind the hammer and took a blind swing. The iron head of the hammer connected with the side of the demon’s head, shattering the skull as if it were an overripe melon.
The demon spat a ball of stinking phlegm off to one side. It released garbled sounds that scraped against his ears.
Hammer flying into motion a second time, Maddox brutally slammed it into the creature’s forearm, snapping the bone as if it were no more than a brittle twig. He questioned neither his actions nor how long he would be able to keep up the strenuous battle. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be the one to walk away alive.
The demon’s hand immediately unclenched. A gush of air ejected past its lips.
Maddox’s eyes opened as a thick growl worked its way up from his chest. “Die, damn you!” Lifting the hammer above his head, Maddox brought his weapon down in an arc, leveling the deadly weight straight into the vampire’s face. The iron head smashed through bone and cartilage before embedding itself into the center of the demon’s forehead.
Stinking blood fountained for an instant before a gurgling death rattle echoed through the nar
row grave site.
Maddox swallowed and clenched his teeth, then shook his head hard to clear his mind. He’d believed himself to be a more cunning, stronger, and deadlier being than any demon he’d encountered. When had he lost his edge? An image of Reyen laughing at him tightened an invisible fist inside his chest.
That bastard left me here to fight it out or die.
Determined to finish the beast off, he slammed the hammer down a second time, and then a third. The dying creature immediately burst into flames.
Maddox barely had time to throw himself against the far wall of the grave as he watched the talons and beak of the demon gouge out a hole between the girl’s breasts. Horrendous, gluttonous sounds emanated from it. Amid the ravaged flesh and spurts of blood, the creature was attempting to dig itself out of the rapidly collapsing corpse.
Choking on the thick plume of black smoke emanating from the body, Maddox watched the demon slither out and shoot upward into the air, clawing at the stone slab that impeded its freedom.
Still, there was no escape. The sparks gnawing at the end of its tail slowly swirled up around its body, engulfing the evil thing in a cloak of bright orange-yellow flames. Its final anguished wail was harsh yet quavering. Seconds later it was gone, devoured. Oily ashes floated down around him like feathers. The remains crackling in the coffin abruptly extinguished in a puff of smoke. Only the coffin’s velvet interior continued to smolder.
Moving to the rear wall, Maddox collapsed on the undamaged portion of the casket. He swallowed and clenched his teeth, then shook his head hard to clear his mind. A long, suffering groan emanated from his core. The pain in his face and limbs was so severe, he was barely aware of his movements. The front of his shirt was soaked with his own blood.
He narrowed his eyes, and a half smile appeared on his lips. He brushed his hand across one torn cheek and spared a brief glance at the blood coloring his fingers. The demon had done a good job of ripping him up. The slices in his face burned. It felt as if someone had injected battery acid straight into his veins.
Attempting to calm his racing heartbeat, he took a deep breath. The flashlight he’d lost was beginning to dim, the thin shaft of illumination emanating up from between the wall and coffin growing fainter with each passing minute. His gaze roamed briefly over the rock walls and discolored mortar of his immediate line of view. The stillness and silence of death mantled the cramped space.
Blinking hard, he shifted his gaze toward the stone slab that Reyen had let slip back into place. The damn thing weighed a ton, and it had taken both of them to lift it.
Maddox slumped farther down against the hard wall. A slow grin spread across his mouth. A low, rumbling laugh bubbled up past the bile in his throat. “Damn you, Reyen,” he cursed. “You’ve been gunning for a way to get rid of me, and now you’ve done it.”
Chapter 15
Sam hurried toward their prisoner. Grabbing her by the scruff of the neck, he pulled her onto her knees. “Time to say good-bye, babe,” he said, pressing the muzzle of his gun to her forehead.
When Jesse saw the girl’s bruised and tearstained face, her eyes widened in alarm. Good grief. The teenager didn’t look to be a day over sixteen, if she was even that old. She was a little girl.
Jesse instinctively struck out, forcing Sam’s weapon aside. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “She’s still human. Alive.”
“Not as much as you would think.” Sam shoved the girl forward, moving her hair away from the back of her neck to reveal the small tattoo etched into her pale skin. “She’s Kindred,” he said, using the barrel of his gun to point to the mark. “She’s sold herself into bondage to serve them in the hope that she’ll receive a demon of her own.”
“But she’s just a kid,” Jesse argued back. “There’s a chance she could realize these things are evil and want to get away someday.”
Sam made a face that clearly said he disagreed with her argument. “The Kindred aren’t forced,” he said, jostling the girl in an attempt to make her talk. “Tell her you willingly chose to join these things.”
“I don’t know.” The girl’s voice wavered. “I don’t remember . . .”
Sam gave the teenager another violent shake. “You’re lying!”
Jesse rounded on him, furious. “Stop it,” she said venomously. “She’s probably been brainwashed by the cult. Kill her now and you take away her chance to redeem her soul.”
Sam shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” he warned. “The Kindred aren’t what they appear to be. They’ve made their choices, sold their souls.”
“I’m not what I appear to be, either,” she fired back. “I’m one of the infected, but I have a life and a soul, just like she does.” She pointed toward the frightened girl. “If anyone has a better chance at redemption, it’s her. Not me. If you think you have to pull that trigger, then you’d better have enough bullets for the both of us. I’m not going to let you kill someone who has a chance.”
Sam tightened his grip on the girl. “Don’t do this, please. Don’t make me choose.”
Jesse ignored him. “Let her go.” Shoving his gun away, she swatted his hand until he released the girl.
The girl, sniffling quietly, didn’t move.
Jesse knelt. Each breath hitched in her throat. I’m not a cold-blooded killer. Killing the Telave was one thing. But killing the Kindred . . . How could she murder another human being in good conscience and call it divine justice?
She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. She gently moved aside the hair clinging to the teen’s face, then wiped away the perspiration on her brow and cheeks. As she looked into the teenager’s face, the fathomless suffering she read in her eyes was nearly her undoing. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she soothed.
“Why defend me?” the girl rasped.
She allowed a small smile. “Because you’re still human and you have a chance to grow up.”
The girl blinked, confused. “But why would I want to grow old and ugly?”
Jesse nodded toward the coffin. “Why would you want to be lying there? You think you’ll still be you when there’s a demon embedded inside your embalmed corpse?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. You’ll be gone, and all that’ll be left is something that looks like you—something that has to feed off human blood to survive.”
Sam bared his teeth and jacked a fresh round into the chamber of his gun. His dark brooding eyes never left her face. “You just saw a vampire die,” he said in a low voice. “Cross over and you’ll get the same treatment.”
The teen burst into tears. “No,” she wailed. “I don’t want that. I just want to go home.”
Sam stared at her through an expression shadowed with skepticism. “I know I’m going to regret this,” he said through a put-upon sigh. “But get the hell out of here. Now.”
The teenager shot to her feet. Scrambling toward the door, she vanished into the night.
Jesse slowly climbed off the cold, hard floor. “Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t let you kill a kid.”
Sam pinned her under a brief glare. It was clear by the look on his face that he hadn’t agreed with her decision to let the girl go. “You do know she will probably run right back to her master and tell on us.”
Jesse frowned. “I don’t care,” she said. “I couldn’t stand by and let you kill her. She was just a little girl.”
“Doesn’t matter how old they are. Next time I’ll do it,” Sam threatened. “You may think you did a good thing, but don’t forget she’s an eyewitness to who we are. She can identify us, which happens to be one of the reasons we work to keep out of sight.”
Jesse felt her blood turn to ice. Oh, shit. She hadn’t thought about that. Suddenly the idea of being a crusader for the Kindred didn’t seem so noble or wise after all. She’d made a stupid mistake, one that could put them in a lot of danger. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
A reply c
ame back, sharp and cynical. “I don’t imagine anyone’s ever accused you of thinking.”
Except it wasn’t Sam Chen who spoke.
Someone else had entered the crypt.
Jesse and Sam turned simultaneously.
Three figures, all of them female, were behind them. But they weren’t standing on the floor. They floated above it. Blond, slender, and ethereally lovely, they possessed an aura of vigor, strength, youth, and age-lessness. All were dressed in flowing white gossamer, the ends of which shimmered around their hands and feet, concealing their limbs.
Mesmerized by the vision, Jesse felt her limbs go rigid. All she could do was stare in wonder at the beautiful beings. Angels, was her first thought. They’re so beautiful.
Sam quickly dispelled that notion. Digging in a pocket, he pulled out a silver yin and yang icon, which he held out in front of him. “Stay back,” he warned. His gun was in the other hand, aimed at the figure in the center.
Jesse forced herself not to flinch at the sight. Even though she knew she was supposed to have something fashioned out of pure silver and consecrated on her person at all times, she’d found it uncomfortable to keep some such thing with her day and night. Despite her earlier display to prove to Reyen she was the one in control, it tired her to continually fight the demon inside.
Sam’s gaze shot up to impale her. “No cross?” he asked suspiciously.
Oh no. Busted. “I don’t see you carrying one, either,” she hissed back.
Without breaking his eye lock on the hovering figures, Sam shrugged. “I’m a Taoist,” he reminded her. “But the concept’s the same.” He sized up the hovering specters. “And these are the kind of Consanguines you definitely don’t want to mess with. The older they get, the more tricks they have up their sleeve.”
“This is a tomb,” Jesse quickly reasoned. “It’s holy ground. How can they even be in here?”
The demoness hovering in the middle smiled, showing a lovely set of fangs. “Desecration, sweetheart,” the creature answered in a tinkling voice. “Our little Sarah did her job well.”
