Blood Hunt (39 page)

“There is no challenge in this,” Jakob said to no one in particular.

“I’ll show you cha—” The Rat had time to begin, and then the metal tube, turned from chair leg to deadly projectile with a single swing of Jakob’s arm, caught him in the throat. The Rat’s words became a spraying gurgle, and he clutched at the foreign object now protruding from his neck, blood pouring from his wounds.

Jakob stepped forward, grabbed The Rat by his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

“Is this really the best that Aros has to offer?” he snarled. “You are the army that’s going to crush the council and wipe out my kind?”

The Rat clawed ineffectively at Jakob’s shirt. Jakob made a noise of disgust and reached up, took The Rat’s head in his hands, and twisted. There was a crunching, shattering noise, and The Rat dropped to the floor.

“Ah, Jesus, that was disgusting,” Rhes commented.

“Did he kill him?” Sarah asked.

“Uh … yeah. Yes.”

“What about the other one?”

“He’s getting back up, but I … I don’t think Jakob’s going to let that happen.”

Jakob had removed the chair leg from The Rat’s throat and was crossing the room with determined strides. Just as The Dunce came to a kneeling position, babying his broken arm, Jakob drove the chair leg downward into the top of the vampire’s skull. It made a sound like someone tapping a coconut for the milk inside, and Rhes covered his mouth and turned away, fighting the urge to be violently ill.

The Dunce’s body fell to the ground, his seizing limbs thumping out a rapid, staccato beat on the floor for a few moments, and then lay silent. Jakob turned and glanced at Rhes, his expression slightly apologetic.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said.

* * *

It wasn’t until they had passed the fourth security door that they reached any real resistance. They had met two other Burilgi guards, one at a time, each of whom Jakob had easily dispatched. Now the hallways they had been following emptied out into a large, warehouse-like room, bare save a few rusting barrels in one corner. At the far end there was a large vertical door on tracks, like one might find in a garage. There was no visible lock for Aros’s keys to fit.

“I suspect that we are near the end,” Jakob said.

“Great,” Rhes replied. “How the hell do we open it?”

“I’m working on that.”

Jakob was inspecting a bank of switches to the left side of the door. Most looked like ordinary light controls and, after some tests, proved to be exactly what they appeared. There was one panel, however, that held only a vertical slot.

“It’s a keyhole,” Jakob muttered, digging in his pocket for the set of keys they had taken from Aros’s office.

“What, Jakob?” Sarah asked.

“One of these switches wants a key … like in a public place where they don’t want visitors to be able to adjust the lights. I believe it may control the door.”

“Do you think it’s the same key that we’ve been using?”

Jakob shook his head and then, realizing Sarah couldn’t see that response, said, “No. It won’t fit. There aren’t many keys here. We’ll know in short order whether any of them work.”

There were just over a dozen keys on the ring. When Jakob attempted to insert the ninth, it slid easily in. He tilted it upward and there was a clicking noise, followed by a hum from above. The door began to rise.

“Hey, nice,” Rhes said. “Maybe we’ll get through this after—”

He was cut off by Jakob, who leapt toward them, shouting, “Get back!”

As soon as the door had risen to waist level, Burilgi soldiers had begun to make their way underneath it. Jakob could not guess how many were behind the door, but he could see a mass of legs. It looked like a full platoon.

The first Burilgi grabbed for Sarah, but Jakob managed to intercept him. He brought his hand down in a chopping motion, shattering the bones in the Burilgi’s hand. The vampire wailed, Sarah shrieked, and Jakob used the moment’s time he had bought to pull her and Rhes backward.

“This is more what I was expecting,” he said as they backpedaled. “We can’t fight them in this open space. We need to funnel them.”

“How many are there?” Sarah asked.

“A lot,” Rhes said. He turned, preparing to run back to the hallway, and stopped in his tracks. “More than a lot.”

Even as the warehouse door continued to rise, the hallway behind them was rapidly filling with Burilgi soldiers. Jakob glanced in both directions, trying to determine the odds. It looked to him like there were at least a dozen soldiers for each of the three of them.

“I’ve always wondered how many Burilgi it would take to kill me,” he muttered to himself.

“Think this is enough?” Rhes asked. They were standing together now with Sarah between them, watching as their aggressors closed the distance.

“It’s enough,” Sarah growled. “Can tell that just from the footsteps.”

“I imagine so,” Jakob said. “Stephen might be willing to bet on himself against these odds, but I am not.”

“I don’t know Stephen,” Rhes said, “but I’ll fight as many of them as I can. At least this time I won’t be surprised by how strong they are.”

“You take the chair leg then,” Jakob said, and handed it to him.

“I’m not sure I can use this,” Rhes replied.

“You can,” Sarah told him.

“Sarah, I—”

“They’re monsters and they’re going to
kill
us, Rhes. You can use it. Either that or give
me
the fucking thing.”

Rhes gave a stunned laugh, but said, “OK, you’re right,” and tightened his grip on the weapon. The Burilgi had come to a stop on either side of the group. One of them, with blonde hair and a large, tumorous growth bulging from one side of his face, took a step forward.

“Stand down!” he ordered. “Stand down, and Aros will be merciful.”

Sarah laughed out loud at this. Jakob said, “We won’t.”

“Then you will die.”

Jakob nodded, shrugged, said, “So will you. Some of you, at least. I’m at peace with my life … can you say the same?”

The Burilgi seemed momentarily taken aback by this. He glanced at his companions.

“I know, I know,” Jakob said in a conciliatory voice. “I’m supposed to be a foppish aristocrat, too cowardly and hedonistic to put up a fight. Have you considered perhaps that Aros has been
lying to you?
No?”

“Aros does not lie to us,” the Burilgi replied.

“Surely not. What could he possibly stand to gain?” Jakob asked, his voice now laced with sarcasm.

“Enough. Shut your mouth, Ay’Araf. You may be strong, but there are too many of us for you. Stand down or die.”

Jakob made an extended bowing gesture, hands held out at his sides, one leg crossed. He looked up at the Burilgi officer and gave him a malicious grin.

“
En garde,
then,” he said, but before anyone from either group could move, the fight was taken out of their hands.

Later, Rhes would be forced to reconstruct the following few moments from jumbled fragments in his memory. There was a huge crashing sound from somewhere behind the large garage door, followed swiftly by the sound of running feet and snarling words in both English and the vampire language he was coming to recognize. These were followed rapidly by shrieks and wet tearing noises.

The Burilgi on both sides of the group were thrown into chaos as fast-moving forms infiltrated their ranks, tearing at them with claws, hacking at them with blades, and otherwise decimating their numbers. There were screams, splashing noises, the clanging sounds of metal on metal. Rhes lost track of Jakob, who seemed to have joined the fight. He grabbed Sarah and pulled her toward the far wall, trying to stay out of the way. Eventually they reached it, panting, pressing into the corner and hoping to avoid any attack.

It seemed to Rhes that a very small but skilled group of vampires was rapidly working their way through the troop of Burilgi. He thought he could make out Jakob, now armed with a machete, within the ranks. He tried to count the number of new vampires, but they were moving so fast that it was impossible to pick out any distinguishing features.

The battle raged for perhaps ten minutes, but it seemed to Rhes that the outcome was in little doubt. Burilgi soldiers were falling like wheat before the thresher, and as far as he could tell none of the other vampires had even been hurt. The advantage of surprise and the pure ferocity of the attack had splintered the Burilgi, thrown them into confusion and chaos, and was leading swiftly to their wholesale slaughter.

A few moments more and it was done. Their vampire saviors had met at the center of the room and were talking with Jakob. The floor of the warehouse was slick and shiny with blood, piled with bodies, and Rhes reflected that he had never in his life expected to witness such a scene.

Just when he thought that the night’s events could not possibly get any more bizarre or unpredictable, Rhes heard a voice speak up from beside him. It was a voice he had not heard in more than a year, but one he recognized instantly nonetheless. Chipper, slightly amused, as if they had run into each other in the park, the girl spoke with the happy tone of someone without a care in the world.

“Hi guys!” Two exclaimed. “How’s it going?”

* * *

Part IV

Chapter 22
Kensington Court

After they had flown to London, it had taken Naomi several weeks to find a townhouse that she liked, but neither Two nor Stephen could complain about the end result. A furnished, four-story dwelling in the ritzy Kensington district of city, the building had been fully restored and modernized in the recent past, and it was absolutely gorgeous inside and out. The neighborhood was scattered with chic hotels and pricey restaurants. Naomi hadn’t told her what the monthly rent on the townhouse was, and Two wasn’t sure she even wanted to know; it must have been exorbitant.

Naomi’s bedroom and office were on the top floor, and the vampire had her own bathroom. Stephen and Two each had a room on the third floor, and shared a bath, which wasn’t particularly an issue since Stephen barely used it. The second floor of the house was dedicated almost entirely to a massive living room, and the first floor housed the kitchen, dining room, and entry parlor. There was also a wine cellar, but Two had never ventured into it. Naomi kept a few bottles of wine there, but did most of her drinking at a club not far away.

They had been in the country for little more than a month, and Two was still frequently surprised by the differences between London and New York. She wasn’t homesick, not yet, but she thought that it would come eventually. Naomi’s early investigation into the activities of the European council had made it obvious that it would be some time before their next meeting, and Two had spent the past few weeks trying to prepare herself mentally for what was likely to be an extended stay in Europe. She had bought several books dealing with the UK, and with London specifically, and a couple of titles about life as an expat. So far, she had spent much of her time there reading.

Naomi and Stephen, more accustomed to traveling, had an easy time of adapting. There were many Ay’Araf in London, and Stephen arrived already knowing where the best fighting locations were. Naomi had a few friends in the city as well, and had visited London enough in the past to have favorite bars and clubs. She and Two had made a few tourist excursions in the late afternoons so that Naomi wouldn’t have to spend too much time in the sun, and so far Two was enjoying her time in the city. Or at least, she had been, until she realized upon waking up one afternoon that it was November twenty-third, and that it had been one year to the day since Theroen’s death.

She hadn’t said anything about it to Naomi, but Two had been powerless to prevent herself from spending the day thinking about him. She had tried to keep herself to positive memories, but it hadn’t been easy. When Naomi had left to visit a club with two friends and Stephen had gone to his fights, Two had starting drinking bourbon, and this hadn’t helped either. That had been four hours ago, and Two had long since given up trying to think happy thoughts. She was instead sitting in the living room, staring out of its large windows at the unfamiliar city around her, weeping and trying to drink the memories away.

She had just poured herself another glass and returned to the couch when she heard the front door opening downstairs. The sound of heels on the stairs told her that it was Naomi, not Stephen, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sure that she could deal with Stephen right now.

“Two, are you still awa—what’s wrong?!” Naomi asked as she came into the living room. Two was rubbing at her eyes, trying to stop crying but not having much luck with it. She looked up at Naomi for a moment, felt herself losing control again, and covered her eyes.

“S’been a year,” she sobbed.

Naomi crossed to the couch and sat down next to Two. She kicked off her heels and put a hand on Two’s shoulder.

“A year since what?”

“Since he … Since Theroen …” Two didn’t want to say it out loud. She paused for a moment, sobbing, and Naomi figured it out on her own.

“Oh, since he passed. I didn’t know. I … did you drink all of this?” Naomi held up the bottle of bourbon, which was almost half empty.

“No. Was open.”

“But you’ve had a lot of it tonight.”

“Maybe …” Two picked up her glass and tried to raise it to her lips, but she was crying too hard to complete the act. Naomi took it from her hand and set it back on the coffee table.

“Two, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Two could feel Naomi’s aura pressing against her, warming her, eating at the edges of her despair. She felt herself growing frustrated with this strange sensation, this artificial comfort, and her emotions whipped suddenly from sorrow to rage. She pushed Naomi’s hand off her shoulder. “Who cares? Who fuckin’ cares?! He’s gone!”

“Yes, he is, but you’re still here.”

“Wish I was dead. I should just … let me go!”

Naomi had taken Two’s hand in hers, and now tightened her grip as Two tried to pull away.