Stray Magic Page 21
It didn’t stop me from working on my ulcer.
Buying and activating the new cell phones didn’t help us much, since the house line still ran off of K.I.M.’s network. The only person we could safely call was Tennyson, and he was sitting three feet away from me. I hated radio silence, and I had already ignored one phone call from Novak. I texted that we were chasing a lead, I’d call him soon. He texted back a couple of swear words.
Ten minutes from home, right before I turned off my Raspberry for the duration, the new message light flashed. I hesitated, then checked the origin. Vincent’s phone, two nights ago. My frustration piqued. Why in the name of Iblis was I getting the message now?
Oh yeah, Weller could hack into K.I.M.’s system and delay my messages until they’d hurt me the most. Summoning up some courage, I ignored a curious look from Jaxon. I didn’t want to hear the message, not really, too afraid of my own reaction to his words and to hearing his voice, knowing he could be suffering unimaginable torture right now.
I played it, lowering the volume as far as I could for privacy. “Hey, babe, it’s me. Look, I’m sorry about last night, I just . . . work is going well, and I guess I was jealous of your job. You see it more than you see me, and I . . . I want to see more of you.” My pulse raced. “More than this casual thing we’ve had, and I hope you do, too. Anyway, we’ll talk about it when you’re off assignment. Take care, baby.”
I listened two more times, memorizing Vincent’s voice and hoping—praying—he’d called before he was taken. That the words in his message weren’t some cruel joke, words he was forced to say by the people holding him captive. I wanted to believe he wanted me. For all of my absences and sudden trips and secrets, he wanted to have more than a casual relationship. I’d never had a boyfriend offer such a thing, not until Vincent. I didn’t know if I wanted things to get serious—with him or anyone else—but he came to me with it. No matter my answer, I had to save him.
The men in the car wisely kept quiet, even though Tennyson could have easily listened in. I wasn’t in the mood for commentary.
The outskirts of town came into familiar view, and then we were coasting down the empty neighborhood street toward the gate. Halfway there, Jaxon slowed the Element to a crawl.
“What’s—?” I started to ask, then saw the answer for myself. Fifty yards ahead of us loomed the front gate to the compound. Six figures swarmed the street, moving around each other with predatory ease.
“Vampires,” Tennyson said. He scooted between the front seats, his eyes blazing red.
“Friends of yours?” Jaxon asked.
“No.”
“Friends of Piotr’s?”
“Possibly.”
“Tennyson,” I said, “there’s a trunk of weapons in the rear.”
“I’ve seen it.”
He shuffled around behind us. My gaze never left the street. We were still moving forward at a snail’s pace, headlights glaring down the road not quite far enough to slash across their faces. They didn’t scatter. They closed ranks, forming a tight line across the road. Waiting.
Tennyson settled the smooth, metal storage locker on the floor of the backseat and popped the lock. I took my seat belt off and twisted around. The mini-armory had clips of silver-jacketed bullets, silver knives of various lengths and shapes, a couple extra pistols, a shotgun, and a machete. The supersecret, magic-based stuff was in the false bottom Tennyson didn’t seem keen on discovering. Not that we’d need to dive down there tonight.
I grabbed silver-bullet clips for myself and Jaxon, as well as a pair of knives each. My hand still wasn’t one hundred percent, but it would hold out if we had to fight. “Help yourself, if there’s something you want,” I told Tennyson.
He turned those red headlights on me. “What is your plan of action?”
“We’ll try to negotiate first. See who they are and what the hell they’re doing loitering in the street at ten p.m. But I’m not going out there unarmed against six vampires I don’t know.”
Jaxon put the Element into Park fifty feet from the defensive line, headlights giving us the full effect. Two females, four males, each vampire dressed in simple jeans and t-shirt combinations, which made them look like college students milling around the quad, waiting for class to start. Only these college students had glowing red eyes, protruding fangs, and an “I want to rip your throat out” vibe coming off in waves.
Tennyson’s emotions wafted around me like heated sweetness—hot cocoa minus the chocolate. What the hell was he feeling? Curiosity? Amusement? I wasn’t sure, and his face told me nothing. As usual.
I handed Jaxon his weapons. He ejected his old clip and replaced it with the silver-jackets, as did I. I pocketed the knives, palmed my badge, and climbed out. The others followed, Jaxon on my left flank and Tennyson on my right. All I could think about was my mom. Our standard perimeter defenses were still up, but the vampire safeties inside the house were not. If they somehow got inside . . . got to her . . .
My badge dug into my good hand, and I wondered if something could make me upset enough to crush it.
If they hurt Mom, I might just find out.
The vampires didn’t move. I stopped, leaving a respectable ten feet of space between us, and flipped them my badge, gun very obvious in my right hand. Might as well start this out somewhat by the book, even though it had even odds of going south pretty fast. Six vamps didn’t show up at your doorstep unless they wanted to rumble.
“United States Para-Marshal,” I said, giving my voice as much commanding bark as I could muster. “You folks lost?”
The vamp in the red t-shirt stepped forward, out of line, hands shoved nonchalantly in his jeans pockets. He ignored Tennyson, gave Jaxon a cursory glance, then settled his matching red eyes on me. I stared right at his nose, but even in my peripheral vision, I caught the odd, black ring around the red. “You Marshal Harrison?” he asked in a voice betraying Eastern European roots. Huh.
“Who wants to know?” I asked.
“We’re here for Piotr.”
Should have guessed. His companions stayed quiet, deferring action to his signal. “Piotr is currently being held for questioning in relation to a recent crime. He’s not allowed visitors at this time.”
“We don’t want to visit.” Red kept canting his head, trying to get me to meet his eyes. Sneaky bastard.
“Okay, good. Now that we’ve established that, you want to get out of the street and let us pass?”
“We’re here for Piotr.”
Someone’s repeat button was stuck. “You. Can’t. Have. Him.”
What are you doing? Do not taunt them. Tennyson’s voice in my head was less freight train than it was station wagon, but it was still darn intrusive.
I ignored him. “Who sent you?” I asked Red.
He bared his fangs in a wicked smile. “He who is Master of us.”
The necromancer.
No kidding! I snapped back, putting as much mental oomph into it as I could muster. “What’s your Master want with Piotr?”
Red’s eyes burned. The black ring seemed to widen, dwarfing the red. My gun hand twitched. Tennyson shifted to my side and clamped a hand firmly on my wrist.
“We must speak,” he whispered.
I angled slightly away from the vamps, trusting Jaxon to keep both eyes on them for me. “So speak.”
If you must fight them, I cannot help you.
My jaw unhinged. I couldn’t help it. “Why the hell not?”
These vampires belong to Azuriah, one of the eldest of us all. They will likely not attack me, and to directly attack his people without provocation is an act of aggression. By our laws, I would be declaring war on his line.
“They don’t—” Off his look, I switched over to yelling at him with my brain. They don’t belong to this Azuriah anymore, they belong to the necromancer.
A vampire belongs to his Master until permanent death. Our law stands.
And if they attack you first?
H
is eyes glowed crimson. Then I will delight in the battle. I have . . . aggression, which needs to be expended.
I bet he had aggression. If they didn’t attack Tennyson, we had a problem. Jaxon and I were good, we were weapons trained, and he was vicious in his stag form, but it was still two to six. All one of the vamps had to do was take a bite out of our carotids and it was game over.
Jaxon cleared his throat, and I turned my attention back to the vamps. The line had moved forward, closing half the distance. Red gazed at me with unbridled contempt. All of them seemed to vibrate with tension—the instincts of a vampire at war with the control of an off-site necromancer. Unless . . .
Tennyson, could the necro be nearby? Watching us?
It is possible.
Then go hunt around. We’ll deal with crowd control.
Are you certain?
Yes.
He melted into the shadows of the nearby lots and was gone, as swiftly as a puff of smoke in a windstorm.
“Where is he off to?” Red asked.
“Coffee run,” I replied. “If we’re going to stand here yakking at each other for a while, I’m going to need some caffeine.”
“Give us what we want—”
“And you’ll go away? Yeah, I’ve heard that line. Tell me why you want him, and maybe I won’t have you all detained for trespassing on federal property.”
“We will get what we came for, Marshal. Even if we have to drain you, turn you, and then make you open the gate.” His tone left little doubt that he’d do exactly as he threatened.
I flicked the safety off my gun with my thumb. “I’m guessing your Master didn’t tell you my little secret. Turning me is going to be a lot harder than you think.”
Red smirked. “It will be my pleasure to try.”
They were on us faster than we could fire. I caught one of the females in the thigh and she stumbled. Jaxon fired in a wide arc even as magic shimmered all around him and he shouted his spell to change.
Red charged me, clumsy, and I sidestepped his lunge. I slammed my knee into his gut, aiming for a painful spot rather than his lungs. Being out of breath wasn’t exactly a problem for vampires. He doubled forward far enough for me to drive my elbow into his spine and down he went.
A shadow darted to my right. I fired. Heard the bullet strike flesh. Someone slammed into me from behind, and I went flying to the ground with a writhing, clawing body on my back. My arms scraped pavement, but I didn’t let go of my gun. Claws dug into my shoulder, trying to bare my neck.
As if.
I angled the gun behind me and fired. The roar blasted my eardrum and made my head swimmy. Something moist splashed my neck and cheek.
A meaty hand grabbed my wrist and twisted. I yelped, numb fingers releasing the gun. Crap. A matching hand wrapped around my throat and hauled me to my feet. Blazing red eyes rimmed with midnight. I kicked at his nuts, and the linebacker vamp gave me a mighty shake, hard enough to send my brain rattling like marbles in a drawer.
Thundering hooves preceded the crash. Stag Jaxon and his mighty antlers skewered the vamp and drove him backward. The vamp hollered. I fell to my knees, gasping, searching for my lost gun. It had been kicked out of reach, near another prone vampire. I palmed the knives. Three bodies were sprawled close by, and Jaxon was still grappling with Linebacker.
Where was—?
For the second time in three minutes I hit the blacktop. Whoever had me rolled at the last minute, so they landed on their back with me on their chest. Wire-strong arms crossed over mine, legs came up to loop and capture, and she squeezed—her breasts against my back were a dead giveaway. Squeezed so hard I gasped. I drove my head backward, hoping to break a nose, and nearly cracked my own skull off the ground. Bitch was fast.
Real fear hit me for the first time, chilling me all over.
Jaxon bellowed somewhere out of sight. Then cried out, a painful sound I didn’t recognize and that hurt my heart. No! They didn’t get to hurt Jaxon, godsdamnit.
Red loomed over me, fangs protruding, eyes a demonic swirl of red and black. He was laughing, and I swore I heard two voices in one throat—his own and the man controlling him. He knelt, and the female vamp held me tighter. My lungs and ribs ached from being slowly crushed—if I’d been fully human, a few would have been broken by now. Red brushed hair away from my throat. I snapped my teeth at his fingers.
He hit me in the temple, and fireworks exploded behind my eyes. He grasped my chin, yanked my shirt collar sideways, and his head descended.
Chapter 16
I tensed for the pain of fangs breaking skin.
Only nothing happened.
“What are you waiting for?” the female vampire hissed. My question, too. Not that I was complaining about the temporary reprieve.
“She’s been marked.”
I’ve been . . . what?
“Do your job!” a male voice roared from the woman behind me. Not Weller’s voice, as I almost hoped (make my job a lot easier), but someone else, angry and with the vaguest accent. “Obey me and feed!”
Cold lips brushed my throat. Crap.
A primal shriek of rage—not mine and not Jaxon’s—was punctuated by a whip of air, and then Red was gone. My vampire-prison was so startled she loosened her hold. I wrenched my hands free and plunged the silver blades down in sweeping arcs, burying them in both sides of her ribs. She practically threw me off her, and I tucked into a roll, one blade still mine.
I barely had time to come up to my wobbly knees before she charged, bloody knife in hand. We hit the ground hard, slicing and clawing at each other. It wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t controlled. It was a battle for survival. Pain seared my left bicep, and she snapped at my face with bared fangs. A cold, black light flared in her eyes—the necromancer’s control. Was he actively engaged in this little brawl, instead of simply observing from parts unknown?
I sank my knife into the vamp’s back. She twisted up, sideways, shrieking at the pain of the silver in her. I grabbed her head with my hands, one on each cheek, and yanked her down toward me. Surprise and fury flared in those inky black depths, and I hazarded a peek into them.
“Fuck you, Necro!” I screamed, and sank both thumbs into her eyes. Eyeballs popped like overcooked eggs. Fluid and blood ran down my hands. She shrieked long and loud. I pushed her off and rolled to my knees. Found her abandoned blade on the ground and drove it into her heart.
Ash billowed seconds later. I sneezed.
The world blurred and tilted. I fell to my hands, nauseated beyond reason, ribs aching, my temple throbbing. Holy hell, Red hit hard.
A dark cloak swirled, and then Tennyson had crouched in front of me, hands on his knees. I looked at his chin, the red glow of his eyes enough to insinuate his mood, even if wafts of boiling vinegar weren’t drifting off him like cologne. I sneezed again, sending my head into Def Con Three. Blessed vampire ash.
“Did we get them all?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” He’d saved my—wait. “Jaxon!”
I lurched to my feet as I shouted his name, somehow alert over the roar in my head. I was vaguely aware of something warm and wet coating my left arm, but ignored it in favor of locating my best friend. His earlier scream echoed in my mind, taunting me. Where was he?
The oddest animal cry drew my attention behind me. The mighty stag lay on his side, the dark hide on his back streaked with blood from shoulder to tail. One of his antlers lay a few feet away, forlorn, ripped from his head, which lolled to one side. He made the strange cry again—some foreign, female scream choked with a lamb’s bleat. The wrenching noise settled in my chest and released a cry of fury, followed by a splash of hot tears.
I stumbled toward him, desperate to help him. He thrashed suddenly. Tennyson yanked me back by my good arm. Jaxon’s muscled hind legs would have broken my ankle. He was terrified, in pain, and probably allowing the beast to take over. Rationalizing the situation with two-hundred pounds of deer was not happening.
“We need to get him inside the gate,” I said. “More vampires could be on the way. Did you find—?”
“The necromancer is not within a one-mile radius of this location,” Tennyson said.
No, because that would be too blessed easy, wouldn’t it?
“If I get behind him,” he continued, “perhaps I can drag him through the gate.”
I huffed. “That will only injure him more.”
“Would you prefer we leave him here for the time being?”
My silence was his answer. He strode in a wide circle until he was behind the stag, whose big brown eye followed the vampire’s every move. The stag only saw enemies and knew he was injured. He would fight us. I took a step forward, hoping to distract him. He thrashed again, coming within inches of crippling me with one fierce kick.
Tennyson was a blur, using his strength and reflexes to wrap his arms around the stag’s back just below his powerful shoulders and drag. I came to my senses a split second later and was at the gate first, punching in the security code with shaking fingers. I ran back for the Element and got it inside the gate with inches to spare. It shut with a clang.
For another dozen yards, the stag continued to fight and scream that awful sound. The front door of the house opened and Mom raced toward us, probably alerted by the noise. One more agonized noise belched from the stag, and then he went limp. Tennyson staggered under the sudden change and nearly fell over. Whatever magic allowed skin-walkers to maintain beast form crashed with a shudder and spark, and then Tennyson was holding a human Jaxon in his arms.
Blood coated one side of Jaxon’s face and a chunk of hair and skin was missing from his scalp. Tennyson swung him more easily into a fireman’s hold, and I saw the torn clothes and bleeding gashes on Jaxon’s back. Mom looked on the verge of hysterics when she met us, but wisely stayed silent until we were inside.
Tennyson went straight upstairs with his burden.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.