by Linda Howard
Sorin used the sword he’d taken from the rebel to sever another head, and then another. He shifted so his back was to the conduit, his body placed so that, between him and Luca, she was guarded. The tide quickly turned; it took only a few moments for the rebels to grasp the fact that their leader was against them. Almost as one, those who were still alive turned and fled.
And Luca turned to Sorin, sword raised.
“No!” the conduit shouted, shoving against him. “He—I don’t know why, but he’s fighting with us.”
“I know,” Luca said. “I just don’t understand why.”
Sorin lowered his sword, taking the chance that he wouldn’t soon be a pile of dust, like the others. “Hell, Luca, neither do I.”
For the moment Isaac and Duncan were holding their own upstairs—she knew because no one else had come down the stairs—and the vampires in the basement had backed off. They weren’t gone, though. Even Chloe, totally untrained in battle, knew that much.
The basement was like a maze, with crisscrossing hallways and closed doors and echoing noises she couldn’t quite place. With Luca on one side and Sorin on the other, she was as safe as could be, all things considered. She never would’ve thought to trust Sorin, but he’d saved her life tonight, more than once.
“Why did you bring her along?” Sorin demanded angrily as they worked their way down a hallway. The two men worked in concert, making sure each room was clear before they let her walk past the door. They were moving deeper into the basement, searching for Regina.
“Where could I leave her? Jonas knows where she is every minute. She isn’t safe anywhere, unless I can stop this madness.”
“Jonas is dead. She killed him.”
Luca’s eyes went as cold and gray as frost.
“The sanctuary spell is broken,” Sorin continued.
“Already? It’s done?” Luca asked.
“Yes.”
Chloe felt as if her insides were being ripped apart. No one was safe now. Not her parents, not her friends … no one. They were too late.
Luca cleared another room, moved past the door. “What changed your mind?” he asked.
Sorin slanted an inscrutable look at Chloe as he mirrored Luca’s movements. “Some humans are worth saving,” he finally said. He gave her a wicked grin. “They’re too yummy to let anything happen to them.”
Chloe edged closer to Luca. Yummy? She tightened her grip on the flashlight, which so far had proved to be much handier than the short sword.
“They deserve to live,” Luca said, without arguing about the yummy part.
“Some of them deserve to live,” Sorin clarified, and then he sighed. “The problem is, how do you decide which ones?”
They reached an intersecting hallway. Luca halted, his head tilted a little, then he shot out a muscular arm and shoved Chloe behind him. The next instant a half dozen vampires exploded from the shadows toward them. Someone fired a gun, the sound deafening in the close confines of the basement. Sorin jolted, then grinned and launched himself forward, not even slowed down by the bullet he’d taken. If the shooter wasn’t accurate, a gun wasn’t much good against a vampire.
Another shot blasted her ears, and Chloe instinctively fell back. Maybe those bullets wouldn’t do much damage to the vampires, but they’d kill her.
Luca and Sorin took up a back-to-back position in the hallway, and between them they blocked any of the attacking vampires from getting past. She backed up a little more, out of reach of those long, slashing blades. Blood arced, and choking dust filled the air. These vampires were better fighters than the first wave had been; reinforcements had arrived. Luca and Sorin were holding their own, but were harder pressed. Sorin shifted in her direction and she backed up a few feet, out of his way. She felt stupidly helpless. All she could do was watch and pray and try not to trip them up—
Maybe not. Maybe there was something she could do to help.
Chloe leaned her sword against the wall, close at hand if she needed it, but even though it was short it was heavy, and she knew she didn’t have a chance against a vampire in any kind of a sword fight. The flashlight was heavy, too; she almost needed both hands to lift it. She steadied it, aimed it, and turned it on. The powerful beam hit one of the rebel vampires, touched his neck and cheek, and instantly blistered his skin. Before she could adjust her aim to shine it into his eyes, the rebel whirled and kicked the flashlight out of her hands. It went flying across the concrete floor, rolling away, and the light went out.
Chloe grabbed for her sword, but even as she did she knew she wasn’t fast enough. The vampire she’d burned with the light was coming for her.
Luca spun, already swinging his sword, and took the vampire’s head.
Chloe dove for the flashlight. Maybe it wasn’t broken. Maybe the battery had just been jarred loose, and she could get it working again.
“Call me!” The Warrior’s voice came more crisp and clear than ever. There had been a time when that voice had terrified Chloe, but now it was a strange comfort. “You need me.”
“Promise me!” Chloe silently demanded. She grabbed the flashlight, leaned against the wall as she shook it, turned off the switch, then turned it on again. Nothing.
Swearing under her breath, she unscrewed the cap, then retightened it. Her knees were shaking, she trembled down to every bone. The flashlight flickered, then went out again. The din of battle was deafening in the hallway, blood was everywhere, dust clogged the air. Oh God, she was breathing secondhand vampire.
“Call me!”
“You have to promise. Luca is mine! He saved me, he’s fighting for us!” She loved him, too, but that wasn’t an argument likely to sway a warrior. “You’ll need him.”
For a moment there was silence from the Warrior in the other world. Then, reluctantly, she said. “I promise. Call me, now!”
Chloe looked for Luca; he and Sorin were being drawn farther down the hallway by the rebel vampires who continued to arrive on the scene. The fight was a blur of silver, flesh, blood, and that bitter gray dust. She anxiously watched him, trying to focus on him.
“Ask! Call my name!” Indie’s request burned with urgency.
“Indie! Come on in,” Chloe said.
“Name!” Indie demanded, the sound fierce.
Chloe closed her eyes and tried to remember the dreams she’d had, the name she’d heard. Why was it so hard? It was like trying to remember the title of a movie, or the name of someone you hadn’t seen in a long time, the right answer was there, on the tip of the tongue. Indi-something. Indie …
“Relax, and listen.”
Chloe took a deep breath, she opened her eyes, and there it was. She knew it as well as she knew her own name. “Please help us, Indikaiya.”
There was a burst of light, a glow that hurt her eyes. She leaned against the wall, gripping the broken flashlight. Luca and Sorin had moved even farther away; she could hear Luca calling her name. No, the call was in her head, like Indie’s voice, but it was just as clear as if he’d been standing beside her.
Move closer. You’re too far away.
But she couldn’t move, not yet. Indie was taking shape before her. There was that braid she’d seen first, now hanging over well-shaped muscular shoulders, the hint of Indie that had so haunted Chloe because it hadn’t made sense. Indie was a tall woman, strong and determined—and armed with a sword.
In seconds, Indikaiya was solid. She turned to face Chloe, and she smiled, with pride and love and a fierce joy. The Warrior had a strong and striking face, not pretty, exactly, but somehow beautiful. She looked like a long-legged European model … if models had muscles and wore short leather shifts.
“Thank you,” she said, and then she turned and ran, following the fight that had called her here.
Chloe called after her, “Luca and the big blond are on your side!” just in case. She’d come here wishing Sorin dead, but she wouldn’t want to rob Luca of a much-needed ally in this fight, even if that ally had once tried to
kill her and had bitten Valerie.
Indie disappeared around the corner Luca and Sorin had turned moments earlier, and when she was out of sight, Chloe took a deep breath. She attempted to regain her strength, to steady the shaking of her knees before moving forward. Bringing the Warrior in had exhausted her—and she’d already been pretty damn spent—though she hadn’t really done anything except somehow create a portal between worlds. Who knew that would take so much energy?
She kept her gaze pinned straight ahead, bracing herself to do as Luca had instructed and move toward him, though goodness knows she didn’t want to get too close. So far the rebel vampires had been drawn to the fighting, but that might not last. At any moment one of them might realize that the human in the invading “army” was all but helpless … and momentarily alone.
Chloe caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, and forced herself to turn, trying to brace herself for an attack. Instead of a brutal vampire like she’d expected, a tiny, dark-haired woman was striding down the hall, an expression of concern on her face. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Dear, I don’t think you should be here. It isn’t safe.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Chloe said warily, trying to will some strength into her legs. The woman smiled as she came closer. Chloe instinctively gripped the flashlight tighter. The sword was several feet away, and she wished it was closer, like in her hand. Vampires all looked different, some creepy, some beautiful, some downright ugly, some ordinary. If this woman wasn’t a vampire, then what was she doing down here—
The dark-haired woman moved so fast, her hand slashing, that Chloe caught only the blur of motion. She reacted instinctively, her own hand moving with incredible speed, smashing the heavy flashlight across the woman’s nose. The woman howled with pain, even as Chloe felt a hot sting, but when she looked down she saw the bloody blade in the woman’s hand, and her own clothing beginning to run red with the river of her blood. The hot sting became fire, spreading, overtaking her, engulfing her.
Confused, she stared at the blood. Where was the dust? No, no dust; she wasn’t a vampire. Her brain couldn’t seem to work. Something was very, very wrong, and her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She dropped bonelessly to the floor.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
If this was the way vampires lived, then being a bloodsucker paid a whole helluva lot better than engineering.
Jimmy followed Rurik’s increasingly abrupt and loud directions to find himself in an exclusive part of D.C. where the homes were movie star worthy. The guy who’d admitted he couldn’t drive, a warrior who was primitive in so many ways, made a decent navigator. Once they were on the right street, finding their destination became easy. Most of the houses were quiet, some were actually dark. But one … one was swarming with men and women who fought on the lawn and inside, visible on the other side of a broken picture window.
Great.
Jimmy stopped in the middle of the street and Rurik threw the passenger door open. He was obviously anxious to join the battle, but he stopped and leaned into the car.
“Your job is done. You are free to leave. But if you wish to fight, if you wish to be a warrior …” His smile was bright. “It would be my pleasure to fight with you again.”
With that Rurik turned and ran, not waiting for a response.
For a moment Jimmy sat there and watched, a part of him screaming that this couldn’t be real, another part having no choice but to accept all that he’d seen and heard. He wasn’t a fighter, never had been. He hadn’t even liked hunting deer with his dad. Then again, he’d never been in this situation before. What if one more warrior made a difference? What if he represented the tipping point between good and evil, between safety and danger for the entire fucking world? Knowing what he knew, could he run away and live with himself?
He pulled sharply to the curb, shut down the engine, and got out of the car. As he retrieved the shotgun and a box of shells from the backseat, another car pulled up to the house. A man dressed in deerskin jumped from the passenger seat, then reached inside to grab a quiver of arrows and a wicked-looking bow.
The car that had dropped off the new arrival hit the gas before the warrior had a chance to close the door. Jimmy watched the car and the man behind the wheel make an escape.
As Jimmy stuffed shells into all his pockets, he watched the taillights of the escaping car. Coward.
Regina staggered back, blood streaming from her broken nose. Despite herself she covered her nose with a protective hand, even though she knew it would heal within minutes. The damn little bitch! How dare she? Regina stared with satisfaction down at the dying human. The stab had been a killing one; the conduit hung on, but she didn’t have long. Even a few minutes of life, however, was longer than Regina was prepared to grant her, if only for the insult of breaking her nose. She bent over the conduit and lifted her knife again, intent on cutting the girl’s throat and watching her last breath bubble out.
Chloe Fallon lifted the damn flashlight that was still in her weak trembling hand, shook it, swore, and then an unnatural light burst to life and shone directly into Regina’s eyes, blinding her.
She staggered back, screaming with pain from the burst of light so close to her sensitive eyes. Damn her, damn her! She couldn’t see, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to deliver the coup de grace. The Fallon woman would soon be dead anyway, so she should forget about her and concentrate on escaping. She smelled the fresh blood and had to fight the urge to drop to the floor and drink. Without her sight, though, she had to be cautious. Immediate escape was the best strategy.
Her eyes burned, the skin on the left side of her face hurt, but it was a familiar burn, one she knew would quickly heal. Any vampire who’d attempted to take on the sun too soon knew this feeling. Her eyes, though, her eyes hurt.
Regina was very familiar with the basement; with one hand against the wall to guide her and her other senses fully engaged, she made her way along the corridor, away from the battle and toward the hidden exit.
Of all her followers, she’d depended on Sorin the most. In him she’d seen someone who could almost be her equal in ruthlessness—almost, because only Luca was her true equal. But Luca had taken up with that measly human, while Sorin had inexplicably turned traitor. What had happened? Seeing him fight alongside Luca had been a shock, but why should she expect anything different from him, or anyone else? Why should she expect loyalty without fear? She’d make him pay for turning against her.
But that was for later. This wasn’t over. Right now she was outnumbered, the warriors had arrived, and Luca, that blood-born son of a bitch, had made matters worse. Even if she could see, the battle wouldn’t be an easy one. She should’ve had Luca killed when she’d had the chance. When he’d shown up at Council headquarters, she should’ve done the job herself. He never would have seen her coming.
She wouldn’t have that chance again.
At least she’d made him pay for his interference by killing his precious little conduit, the human who’d turned him against his own kind. She would’ve loved to have spent more time with Chloe Fallon, to make her suffer, but there had been no opportunity to savor the moment, or the blood. What a shame.
The fighting continued, noisy and messy. Now and then she even heard the blast of a firearm from the ground level of the house, above her head. Sorin had often advised her to provide the army with more modern weapons, but she hadn’t seen the necessity, not when her soldiers could kill with their hands and their teeth; only the newest and weakest needed anything else in battle. A few swords, whatever ordinary weapons they needed to take out the conduits, a handful of guns in case a few warriors made it into this world … nothing more had been necessary.
She’d never expected it would come to this, that her followers would be fighting their own kind. If she’d had a bomb she’d blow them all to hell and start over, building a new army. What was another fifty years or so when she had an eternity? But she
had no explosives, and she’d be damned if she’d wait a moment longer than she had to.
Already her vision was beginning to return; no one healed more quickly than a blood born. She climbed the narrow stairs beyond the hidden doorway, opened a hatch concealed by a patch of perfect grass, and slipped into the night, far from the house where the fighting still raged. It was her battle, her war, but it didn’t make sense to sacrifice herself in a skirmish where the odds weren’t with her.
There would be other battles. This fight was lost but the war itself was far from over.
Nevada drew her knees in, buried her head in the folds of her skirt, and closed her eyes tight.
Unfortunately she couldn’t close her ears.
Outside her dark hiding place, it sounded like the end of the world. Who would be foolish enough, courageous enough, to attack a nest of vampires? Maybe the conduits they’d been trying to kill, though she didn’t think those humans were any better fighters than she was. Maybe her spell requesting help had been more effective than she’d imagined it could be. If only they’d arrived sooner, before she’d completed the task Sorin had brought her here to do.
She couldn’t help but wonder how many humans were in danger tonight because she’d lifted the spell that had once kept them safe in their homes. She hadn’t expected to live long after her work was done, she’d expected to die—and to take the breaking of the spell with her. She’d always realized that Sorin was more than the others, that he was better, but she’d never imagined that he’d actually save her.
If she’d known that was even possible, what would she have done differently?
For a while she couldn’t concentrate enough to practice her remote viewing spell, but as the sounds of battle waned a bit, she lost herself in that mental place that allowed her to travel, and stepped out of the storage space and into battle.
No one could see or touch her, but she saw them. Some of the vampires she recognized; she’d seen many of them in her time here. They’d delivered food, towels, sheets, soap, clothing—the endless supply of things a woman needed during three years of life. They’d threatened and taunted her; they’d imprisoned her family. Those who fought against them were different. Two who blocked the doorway to the basement stairs were vampires, too, but she hadn’t seen them before. They were obviously fighting against others of their kind, keeping them out of the basement, for some reason.