1305 & 1306 The Oracle & the Vampire (The 13th Floor) (7 page)

Or perhaps it was his own causing his shoulders to hunch and his feet drag.

CHAPTER 11

The visions were coming more frequently. Every ten minutes or so. Harriet wished for once that she could scream, but she didn’t dare draw any more attention to them than an old woman and a young man would marching through a devastated city.

“We’re not going to make it before the sun rises unless you let me carry you.” The patience in Kiral’s voice was wearing thin. In fact, Harriet was surprised he didn’t just toss her over his shoulder like a bony sack. She hated to slow them down, but she was no baby.

Harriet leaned on the gun like she would a cane. The muzzle wisely pointed down. “We’ll make it.”

“I need to find Harriet.”

“She’s fine.” At his look, Harriet held up her chin. “She’s fine. I know it.”

“Magical family bond?” He didn’t appear convinced.

“Yes.” Harriet snapped. “Trust me, she’s alive and well.”

Kiral dipped his head. “I trust you, Grandmother.”

The words weren’t false, but they were frustrated. Harriet sighed and walked on.

She should tell him the truth. It would end this search, but she didn’t know how he’d react. She needed to keep him alive. If he knew she was Harriet, he might run off in his anger. There would be no way she’d be able to catch him.

No. She had to keep him tied to her. Since she was the only one who knew where Harriet was, she was valuable to him. He wouldn’t leave without her.

The wail of sirens never seemed to quit. A jumble of cars blocked the road. Even if Harriet thought about suggesting they’d take a vehicle, they wouldn’t be able to make it through the streets.

The block they walked on appeared empty. Not even a pigeon or cat.

“How did you come to be an oracle?” Kiral’s voice seemed too loud even against the background noise.

“An oracle?” Harriet placed one foot in front of the other. “I suppose that is one way to look at it. You do know what I am, don’t you?”

“When I was a child, we called you keeners. Wise women with the sight. Some visions so afflicted them that they mourned the dead before it happened.” Kiral kept pace beside her. “I knew a girl. She wasn’t born to it. She went away for a while, and when she came back, she was one of the crones. Some considered it a blessing from the gods.”

“It’s a curse.” Harriet spit out with more venom than she intended. “No one would choose to be this way, and if they did, they’re fools. A jealous little fairy cursed me, not kissed by any god.”

Kiral was silent for a moment before taking her free hand. “I’m sorry, Grandmother. I can sympathize with you, being forced to be something you never wanted. It does get easier, though. I—”

Harriet didn’t hear the rest of what he said. She sucked in a breath as another round of horrific visions claimed her. An angel. Not a real one, but the one at the city’s center. Then an explosion. So many people screaming and dying.

When she came back to herself, she wasn’t on her feet anymore. Kiral rocketed down the street with her in his arms, and her hair flew into her face. Hooves? Did she just hear hooves? They suddenly stopped, and she grunted with the jolt to her body.

Something massive hissed.

“Shit.” Kiral set her down as she frantically swiped at her wild hair. “Run, Grandmother. Go find Harriet. I’ll take care of them.”

With her hair out of her eyes, Harriet gasped and stumbled back. The creature was born from the most chilling of horror tales. A headless rider sat upon a dreadful steed. The beast pawed at the ground and cracked the pavement.

Harriet whirled around at the sound of thunder. A second rider barreled down on them.

Her first instinct was to run. Then she remembered the gun. Where was the shotgun?

“Go!” Kiral roared and leapt at the oncoming monster. Fearless or foolish, or perhaps a little of both. She admired him for it and was terrified at the same time.

The second rider bolted forward, and Harriet fell over her feet to get out of its way. She was certain it would trample her, but its focus wasn’t on her. It didn’t even glance her way. They were after Kiral.

They were after Kiral!

Kiral ripped at one horse’s neck and tried to yank the rider off, but the headless monster and its stallion moved as one beast. The vampire unbalanced it, but didn’t knock it down.

As he was occupied with the one monster, the second one rode up from behind. The rider unfurled a barbed whip and lashed out. The whip wrapped around Kiral’s calf. It jerked him off his feet as the hellish steed stomped on his chest.

This was it. This was when the monsters took Kiral.

Harriet picked up the nearest thing: a discarded water bottle. She chucked it at the closest rider, but it paid her no attention.

The other rider snapped a whip and caught Kiral around the arm. His struggles bought him torn flesh as the barbs dug deeper.

She pounded a fist against her thigh. Time was of the essence. What could she do?

Maybe these things didn’t like light any more than the darkness that attacked her in the alley.

Kiral cried out, and Harriet choked on a sob. No, they couldn’t have him.

Fast and a bit sloppy, she summoned one wisp after another. They zipped down from the sky and circled her, dancing as if attending a grand party.

Harriet commanded them to shine bright and blind the monsters. Well, the mounts since the riders had no heads. The wisps had no attack other than with their light. It had to be enough. It had to.

Their illumination didn’t chase the monsters away, but as the wisps swirled around the things, they definitely got their attention. One of the horses reared, and the riders swatted at the wisps like annoying gnats.

Hunched over, Harriet scurried onto the sidewalk and moved behind the cars parked along the road. If she could get into a car, she could bull the monsters over. But she didn’t have the keys to any of them nor could she hotwire one.

Another plan. She needed another plan.

She tripped over something and yelped as she scraped her knees and elbows. Peering behind her, she wanted to cry in relief. The shotgun.

Snatching the weapon up, she used a cherry red car to help her stand. Harriet tossed back her mass of hair and shuffled onto the road.

The wisps no longer bothered the monsters. The riders had Kiral stretched between them. Any move he made threatened to tear off a limb.

Without uttering a word, Harriet marched toward them and planted her feet two car lengths behind the monster with its whip wrapped around Kiral’s leg. She raised the gun, braced it against her shoulder, and fired.

Catherine wasn’t kidding when she said the shotgun had kick. A dozen cries filled her ears knocking Harriet flat on her back. At first she thought she was having more visions, but nothing came before her mind’s eye. She raised her head in time to see the remaining lower half of the rider and its horse fall apart. Not like a puzzle or a tower, but a tumble of bodies that hadn’t seemed to be there before.

The headless rider and its steed were made of little monsters.

As she lay there on the road with her mouth hanging open, Kiral wasn’t wasting a second of time. With his leg free, he planted both feet against the far side of a car, and using his immense strength, yanked on the whip of the remaining rider. He smashed it against the vehicle with an awful thunk. The monster exploded into smaller monster bits.

Harriet thought maybe the little devils would scramble to get back together, but they raced off in various directions. One could kill her, but perhaps they knew nothing of guns and that a shotgun needed to be reloaded. They gave her a wide berth and disappeared into the night.

Kiral dashed toward her, scooped her up, and ran toward the north side of town.

CHAPTER 12

Ms. Bates smiled when Harriet and Kiral knocked at her door. She undid a half dozen chain and bolt locks and welcomed them in with the scent of freshly brewed tea. It was like stepping out from a war zone into a storybook tea party. It made Kiral feel light-headed.

“Come in, come in. It’s a nasty night.” Cynthia Bates invited them in. Once Harriet and Kiral had stepped into the hall, Bates swiftly locked the door again. “I can’t believe you’re wandering around out there.”

Kiral couldn’t either, but to find Harriet, he’d fight his way through Hell if need be.

The old woman pushed her walker and escorted them into the kitchen where two other elderly ladies sat at the table, set with a full tea set and a large plate of biscuits.

“Please, join us, dears. This is Judith and Margaret. Girls, this is my Harriet’s grandmother by the same name, and her handsome young friend, Kiral.” Bates smiled again as she made the introductions and sat down.

Kiral clasped his hands behind his back, acutely aware of his ruined and bloody clothing. His body had healed, but he could do nothing for his wardrobe. It might be a good idea to mesmerize these women to forget they saw him before he left.

“I’ve heard so much about your granddaughter from Cyndi. I pray she’s somewhere safe tonight.” Judith dipped her head in sympathy.

“Thank you. We think she may be checking on her clients.” Harriet took a seat beside the hostess. She tried to tame her hair with her fingers. Kiral bet she felt as out of place as he did.

“I’m sorry, she hasn’t been by here.” Bates shook her head and motioned to the teapot. “A cuppa?”

Harriet paused and then declined. “No, thank you. We won’t stay much longer than usual. Have you heard from Mr. Stewart? We thought to check there next.”

Margaret sniffled, and Bates reached over to take her friend’s hand. “There now, dear. Have a little more tea.” She turned to Harriet and spoke in a quiet voice. “Some wild animal attacked Joe in his yard. It was terrible. Margaret’s little poodle found him and ran crying into the night.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harriet bowed her head and scrubbed at the tears caught in her wrinkles. Kiral edged closer to the crone with the urge to comfort her, but he kept his hands to himself. He wouldn’t know what to say or that such a gesture was even wanted.

“Thank you, dear.” Bates sighed. “I want to convince you to stay here with us, to remain safe through this long night, but I don’t want to imagine anything happening to my Harriet. I can see your young man here looks quite capable of taking care of things.”

Kiral said nothing in return, but merely gave them a little reassuring smile. Things were only going to get worse the longer they delayed. He turned to Harriet. “We should get going, Grandmother.”

“Of course.” Her bones creaked as she stood. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Bates. A pleasure to meet all of you.”

“I’ll see you out.” Bates stood and wheeled her walker expertly around. She unlocked the front door and peered out into the night. “Good luck with your search and be careful. I fear …” She let out a shaky breath. “There’s something unnatural happening tonight. I wouldn’t dare say such a thing to the other girls, but by your weary faces, I think you’ve seen your fair share of horrors.”

“Stay in and keep the door locked. Morning isn’t too far away.” Harriet patted the other woman’s arm, and Miller enveloped her in a tight embrace.

Maybe a hug would’ve been welcomed.

“Find our Harriet. She’s a precious girl. I’m sure you know it, but so many of us feel the same way.” Bates squeezed and then released Harriet. She stepped aside so they could leave.

“We will.” Harriet shuffled outside and swallowed with a raven’s cronk.

“Thank you.” Kiral followed the crone and stood guard at the door until it was locked again. He then helped Harriet down the porch steps. “Your granddaughter is well loved.”

Harriet smiled a little. “I suppose she is.”

“She’s very important to all these people just as she’s become important to me.” Kiral strode to the end of the walk and glanced out past the hedges. He nodded once, signaling the way was clear.

The more people they visited, the more precious Harriet became. She’d touched so many lives, nurtured them and brought forth much more good than he had in all his long years of existence. When he touched someone’s life, it only crumbled.

He needed her. Yes, his body craved her, but awe was a poor word for what he was feeling. She was like a goddess or something akin. A tale from his days as a child tickled his mind. Harriet would change his life for the better, and he would make sure she would never have to walk alone in the dark again.

“She’s going to save me, you know.”

Kiral hadn’t realized he said it out loud until the crone tripped. She would’ve fallen again if his reflexes weren’t so quick.

“Save you from what?” She spoke the words with hesitation.

“We have a legend amongst my people.” Kiral glanced at her and hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea of what he meant by that. “The Turks.” It’d been years since he identified himself as such. His accent was slowly fading the more time he spent in America.

“They call them the Al Basti. Women, maybe fae or some other spirits, each tale varies, who seek out men with guilt on their souls.” Kiral pressed his fingers to his chest. “They torment the men in their dreams, boil their blood to fever, and drain their energy.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” Harriet huffed.

“That’s what is commonly known about the Al Basti. When I was young, there was more to the myth than that. The people in my town believed them to be Peri. You know this word?”

“Angels,” the crone said softly.

“Yes. They might come to torment the men with guilty souls, but they come for a reason. They help those men face their guilt and bring them to the light.” Kiral’s head tilted back, his eyes on the stars. His chin quivered ever so slightly. “Harriet is my Al Basti. Her blood… it’s like nothing I’ve tasted before. I can’t stop thinking about her. Not just her blood, and yes, I admit that it’s part of it. I can’t help it. I know my faults. I remember every one of my sins.

“Last night…” His voice cracked as shame washed over him anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “Last night, I broke. I went looking for a hit. I found what I was looking for. Some pusher had a drugged teen. Not just any teen, a werewolf. There’s magic in their blood too. If Marc hadn’t come along and stopped things, I would’ve drained the kid dry.