by Sara Hanover
Carter acted, swinging about at the chain, with a flash of sunlight up his arm and sword as he struck. Metal exploded as they met, the hook, the blade, and the light. Bits of shrapnel spit past my head, and I ducked out of the way. Out of the corner of my eye, I expected to see the body spill onto the flooring. Instead, it sparked and disappeared.
Was that the way a soul flew home? Or had it died? Had we set it free or destroyed it?
No time to wonder or mourn. Gregory moved from body to body to body; his voice chanted, unafraid, touching bare hands to captive bare hands as he ran through. With each he touched, a small sun answered and the captive left. Carter took the other side, tamped down his sunlight bursts, preserving what energy he could.
Not all left in brilliance. A staggering amount dissolving into a sooty, oily cloud, melting onto the floor and billowing up in my direction. The stink they carried threatened to suffocate me as I swept my khopesh. They reached out with grasping hands and kicked with sharp-toed shoes. Failing that, they simply tried to use the brunt of their bodies as battering rams. As one clutched at me, I spun about to strike, expecting to hit a fragile body. Instead, the sickle sword and my arm felt the brunt of hitting a wall. I almost dropped my weapon. I jumped aside instead, and raised my left hand, calling forth my salt spell, as little as I dared and hoping it was as much as I needed. My attacker dissolved into a puff of obsidian smoke. Lesson learned.
Spinning about, I came face-to-face with a captive. In the sepia hues of the Butchery, I almost didn’t recognize her, but I did. Her golden complexion faded, her youth and perkiness drained away, Sophie swayed on the hook in front of me with closed eyes.
No. Not my Miss S’mores.
What would happen if I attacked her chain? Fear galloped through me. I couldn’t bear the thought that she might not survive. Her eyes came open, and then awareness flooded her face.
I had to do something. I swung the khopesh at the overhead stud holding her. Metal clashed against metal. I felt the blow all the way to my toes, and my ears rang with the noise.
Then a white flash nearly blinded me as Sophie disappeared. A dazzling white spark flew up to the ceiling and away. Free. I had no way of knowing if I would be so lucky next time. I prayed that she’d been so newly caught, he hadn’t corrupted her.
I tossed handfuls of salt ahead of each sword sweep. Toss. Hack. Jump away. Repeat. My actions took a lot more effort than Gregory or Carter expended, physically, but when I could glance at either one of them, their expressions were strained, their foreheads dotted with sweat. We worked steadily to clear a pathway into the Butchery, a slog at best, a retreat here and there when necessary.
And we hardly made a dent.
I thought we could advance, but squeaky rollers overhead brought forth row after row of bodies. Gods above, he must have hundreds entangled in his net. What false promises he must have caught them with, as he had my father, decades of mortals too desperate and too eager to avoid his traps. I began to notice the clothing they wore and realized the styles stretched across generations. We were, after all, in a niche of time that was of Nicolo’s own making. By what magic, I didn’t know. His ripples stretched across ages, and once his captives got dragged into here, it seemed a kind of stasis existed.
I brushed my own forehead dry on my sleeve. Behind me, somewhere, Evelyn screamed. Her terror undulated, loud and all too real. I jumped back but could not see her or what frightened her. Hiram gave a battle cry, his bass tones shattering the noise of the Butchery’s wood and metal, and I hoped she would be all right. That he would be all right.
That sidestep, that moment, nearly undid me. Hands ripped at my left arm. Salt danced and fell uselessly to the floor. Nails like talons ripped at my palm. Teeth snapped in my face as I punched away my attacker. I looked square into the face of my high school history teacher, one of my favorites, a master of the pun and one of the good guys, I had thought. His expression twisted grotesquely. Darkness billowed out of his mouth as he strained to get me. I kicked out, and the meat-hooked body spun out, arms flailing, as the being, no longer human in any way, wailed. The crude rolling system overhead dragged it away as my teacher hissed in frustration.
It had almost had me. I could feel blood dripping from my hand and wiped it off on my leg.
“Easy, Tessa,” my father said.
He could, no doubt, feel the energy level of the stone keenly, and warned me not to leave him little or nothing to draw upon.
I didn’t care for a few seconds. The professor and Carter switched sides, as their attacks became less effective. Or perhaps the captives became stronger the deeper we got into the old Master’s stockpile. No time to wonder why.
Darkness roiled up, solid and threatening, eating not only all the light we’d brought in, but the energy as well. I could feel my throat tightening. My eyes stinging. My palms, both of them, aching. The khopesh acted as if it wanted to twist in my hold and turn on me. Could it? Or did I stand in the way of a magical wave that permeated every fiber of the Butchery? People caved in here. Gave up. Wasted away. Died, hopeless. I could feel it.
“Now,” commanded Nicolo, still unseen.
From behind the dread and swaying bodies of mortals, vampires came gliding.
Did I expect wings? A few had them. Some approached with duster coats spread wide, to inflate their size and confuse the target of their forms. Canines flashed, and the whites of their eyes, and the pale moons of their faces where undeath had leeched all natural color from their skin, no matter what they’d been born as. Did they smell of peppermint?
No. They stank of carrion. Befouled blood. Decaying flesh. They might have been promised immortality, but no one promised them health. The wave that flung themselves on us might have been zombies except they were not falling apart. Magic and hatred strung them together. The stone spun out a shield for me, a small and easily maneuvered one.
A woman descended on me. I saw her eyes flash. She didn’t breathe except to express sound, drew in breath and released it, hissing, as she closed on me. The khopesh caught and hooked her by the wrist as she reached for me. I shook her off it and aimed the sickle at her neck.
It worked remarkably well. Her head tumbled off and her cloaked body sank into cloth and ashes. I only had to do that about a thousand more times.
They learned quickly. Instead of coming at each of us one at a time, they came in coordinated swarms. Backing up, I prepped my fireball and tossed it into the depths of the dark wing throwing themselves at me.
Gregory shouted, “Don’t use ice, whatever you do. We need our footing.” A wave of vampires came at him, threatening to pull him under. He went to his knees anyway, hands beckoning and calling forth his spells. Lightning ripped about him.
I heard him. Understood, although barely, and instead reached in my pocket for a flash-bang. A vamp came at me, choking me with its smell as I dodged to the side and lobbed my grenade in the professor’s defense. It scattered the vampires who didn’t burst into flames and let him make it back to his feet. No time for gratitude, as one of them bulled its way into my shoulder, knocking me off balance. I twirled about and Hiram caught me. His ax swept about us like a great pendulum, aimed from side to side, and the obsidian wave parted. He set me back steady, nodded, and moved back to wherever he’d come from.
Back to Evelyn, I could almost be certain. A ray of light illuminated him for a moment, a sign that she held the door open behind him. We had a way back but not for retreat. No. We had to finish what we started or Nicolo’s revenge would spill out into the city. He didn’t have to threaten us. I knew it in my bones that our attack would unleash whatever restraint he might have.
“You’ve got to get to him,” my father whispered to me.
“I know.” I just didn’t know how. My arms ached. Blood and weariness sang through my body. How many swings did I have left? Not enough.
Not nearly enough to cut
through this swath and make a difference. How could he have held this many Undead under his sway, without leaving traces?
And then they dropped from above. Fast and deadly, with moves that I could hardly parry, my position getting driven back and suddenly I found myself back-to-back with the professor.
He breathed hard. A welcome and reassuring sound.
“Now,” he muttered, “would be a good time to summon our friend.”
I looked and saw the three of us boxed into a corner, of sorts. Carter spewed light and fire again, restrained, and I couldn’t tell if he had begun to run low or if he was still rationing his ability.
No idea where Nicolo sat in power.
We wouldn’t make it, wherever it was. Not without help.
“Malender,” I called. Two opponents dove at me. I ducked under the arm of one and spun off the cane of another with a crack against my elbow that rang through my bones. “Malender, Malender, Malender!”
My movement exposed Gregory, but Carter stepped into the gap. I danced around to flank them and would have brought up my salt, but my body refused to do it. Just a glitch, a blip, as I could feel spell weariness drift through me. I couldn’t be burned out. Couldn’t quit. I’d come to fight. Fight I would until they dropped me. But they weren’t going to find it easy!
A new opponent stepped into the gap. Confident. Grinning. Bleached-out face and talons came at me. He looked as if he could have walked the streets of my town any time. He didn’t smell like spoiled meat or candy canes. I could have passed him at my college campus or the local diner and never noticed. Dressed like the others, all in black, not so much because he would have worn that normally, but because it gave him camouflage at the Butchery, I supposed. He moved on me so quickly that my bracers took the brunt of two sweeps meant to open my wrists like fire hydrants. His eyebrows raised.
“Niiiice.” His hiss flowed over me like ice water. “I will take those for myself.”
I countered with the khopesh, but he ducked away from the sickle blade and grabbed at it, tearing it out of my hands.
Fingers empty, slightly amazed, I just stood flat-footed. A deadly position. The vampire laughed, a hollow sound, and came at me swinging my own sword.
And then there was Malender, between me and the vampire, his whip cocked. Without a wasted movement, he swung the whip, slicing the being up, setting its clothes on fire. My sword clattered to the planked flooring. I swooped down to retrieve it.
“My life—”
“I get it. Your debt is being redeemed. And what have we here? Ah. Nicolo’s lair.” Only Malender didn’t pronounce it as I’d been thinking of it. He gave it a definite Italian accent and twist. Knee-co-low. Malender bared his teeth in delight. He strode forward, lashing his scourge from side to side, catching vampires and hooked bodies alike, clearing a path that we eagerly followed. Finally, I could see the racks clearing, empty hooks rattling past us.
Far from easy, we slogged forward a step at a time. The meat hooks kept rolling in, but the influx of vampires slowed. We caught a breather, fighting one at a time, until I could see the back of the building and the magnificent being that wrought all this death and fury. He sat on a block table, waiting, well-dressed in a modern-day smoking jacket and slacks, eyes glowing a bit in the dim light, hair down to his shoulders and curled at the ends. I dared not look longer than that as I could feel the magic seething out of and around him. It plucked at that bite, too, as if I were an instrument he could hope to play.
Blood slicked the floor under my steps; from what, I had no idea. One of us? Maybe. From slaughters earlier? Possibly. From those hanging on the meat hooks? Maybe. Some of them appeared to be physical as opposed to spiritual, but I couldn’t tell the difference easily. Did Nicolo treat this place as a pantry, with prime meats to be aged before being devoured? Legend said that vampires only drank blood, but from what I’d seen, that might not be the truth. Legend also talked about ghouls. Where did the dividing line fall?
I did not have time to parse good from evil. That seemed self-evident. Malender’s whip either freed captives or sent them cascading into flame and ash. There was no in-between. Justice dealt with them one way or another. He showed no signs of slowing down, stringing us behind him in his wake. My steps faltered now and then as I fought to keep my swings strong and straight. Vampires fell back, retreating to a more advantageous spot instead of rushing us head on. Rather than overwhelm us with sheer numbers, now they began to resort to strategy. It told me one thing: Nicolo didn’t have unlimited resources. He had a bottom he didn’t want to reach. The only question now was whether we could hang on long enough to reach that.
Every fiber of my body ached. I felt as though I’d just played a doubleheader of field hockey and both shoulders had gone out. My knees throbbed. Even my toes protested with every step. Weary. I was so tired. I could just lie down on the floor and—
“Tessa!” My father’s voice, sharp and loud. “Pay attention!”
I stumbled. Felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water into my face. My eyes went wide. I’d been falling asleep on my feet?
The old Master had been glamouring us. I joggled Gregory’s elbow and then Carter. “Look alive,” I warned them.
As I glared ahead of me, I could see Nicolo, in person, now on his feet. I could see his eyes, dark and vibrant, his persona as striking as Malender was handsome. He looked pleased. He reached behind him and drew a long, wicked-looking blade off the block table. I knew its like or thought I did. I’d faced samurai sorcerers once with swords like that. Maybe they’d been in concert with him, maybe not. They were dead and gone.
I survived. Thrived, even. Loved. Learned. Breathed.
I smiled. And that, more than anything we were doing as we battled to draw near him, disconcerted him. His own expression faded. I think he’d just begun to realize that, although our advance slowed a bit, it continued. His minions hadn’t turned us back, not yet. Had not even injured us grievously, although we had Malender’s help for that turn of fortune. Behind us, Hiram and Evelyn kept a path of retreat open, just in case. If anyone in this battle was cornered, it was him.
And he didn’t like it.
“Now we take him,” my father urged.
“Now?” I couldn’t see a way to get closer, without ending up stuck on a spit.
“You have a way.” He sounded confident and a bit scornful. The shield on my left forearm disappeared abruptly.
I hadn’t done that, he had. I frowned and repositioned my stance, my left side now very vulnerable.
I found myself to the fore of our little phalanx. Shaking my head, I attempted to fall back. A tall shape glided in next to me, hard fingers wrapping about my bicep and tugging me out of position. My pony tail suddenly yanked my head about. Captured, I looked up into Remy’s Undead face.
She still looked human. French, with a nose just slightly too long, high cheekbones, hair smartly brought back into an upsweep, her eyes now of indifferent color but highlighted with an ironic glimmer.
“You still look elegant,” I said, words tumbling out before I could catch them.
“And you are still intolerably naïve.”
My scalp stung. Caught in her grasp, I could scarcely move, but I wiggled my hand, palm up. “He wants this. Take me to him. We can settle this right here, right now.”
Remy considered me. I had no idea if her orders had been to kill or capture, and for a long moment, I wasn’t certain she remembered either. She jerked on my hair again, and I bit back a scream. I dropped my khopesh to enforce my surrender. That stirred the vampire into motion. She dragged me across the floor, sawdust puffing up about my boots, the smell of old blood wafting up, as Nicolo watched us intently.
Malender held his scourge quiet, also staring, even as Carter moved to his elbow and must have said something, for Malender nodded sharply, dark curls on his head bouncing a bit. Flames
licked the whip from handle to end and settled, like a fire that had been banked.
I passed Gregory and threw him a look. A plea, I supposed, in case what my father and I hoped to do might turn ill. I didn’t want to end up on a meat hook, even if I had to burn alive from toe to head to avoid it. He couldn’t do that, I supposed, and ever face my mother again, but I hoped he might have something up his sleeve.
Remy yanked on my arm to hurry me up. I wouldn’t have time to say goodbyes. I did look back over my shoulder to Carter. I mouthed “I love you” to him. Did he catch it? I didn’t have time to know as Remy swung me about and I hit my knees in front of Nicolo. She finally let loose of my hair. Her steely hand moved from my elbow to my shoulder, and dug in. I wasn’t about to move if she could prevent it.
He had a classic Roman nose which I could see when he looked down at me. Italian complexion. Undeniably attractive, if short in stature. Brunette hair as straight as a stick until its slight curl at the collar, a modern, razor cut. Not a hint of peppermint about him, oddly enough. Perhaps he just soaked his vampire ghouls in it to keep them sufferable. His clothes looked fairly new and pricey, but his arrogance seemed priceless. And why not? He’d lived ages longer than anyone else in the building, except perhaps for Malender—and Malender had been his prisoner once for an unimaginably long time. Long enough that the modern magical world had forgotten Mal and what he represented, and he had even forgotten himself.
If Nicolo had been clever enough to entrap Malender, I held out little hope for myself.
“We have the stone,” my father whispered encouragingly.
I kept my gaze on Nicolo’s chin, unwilling to look him in the eyes. “The stone,” I said, and my first words failed me, sticking in my throat and inaudible. I cleared my throat. “The stone,” I began again. “Ransom for Richmond.” I trembled. The old scars of that vampire bite on the crook of my left arm pulled on me. Made me want to be obedient. Coaxed me into submitting. Laughed at me for trying to stay untouched. It battered at every defense I had built up over the years. Being alone. Being scorned. Being abandoned.
