Phoenix Fallen (19 page)

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Alrighty then. Here’s how it’s going to go down.” He squatted down over a bare patch of earth. “The trailer is at the back of the clearing, from what you saw, right, J?”

Jules nodded.

“And Cross is inside with her?” This time Mags echoed Jules’ affirmative motion.

Mags met his eyes only briefly before her’s darted away.  He wondered what the telepath could see of Daimen’s intentions for Rissa, and decided he didn’t want to know. Not for the first time, Jules was thankful his powers were limited to objects. If he wanted to stay out of other’s people heads, all he had to do was drop whatever connected them to him. But Mags didn’t have the option. With a grimace, Jules focused on the sketch Scott was making in the dirt.

The trailer was small, cramped. Daimen had threw her on the small twin bed carelessly as soon as they first walked through the door. He ordered most of the men from the room, except the one who'd been sitting next to them in the car. Daimen then turned to Rissa, his eyes twinkling. Before he could say a word, though, one of the men he'd sent outside poked a head inside, holding out a cell phone. "You're got a call, boss. It's
her."

Daimen cursed.

"One moment, Riss." He looked at the other vamp. "Watch her. She's tricksy, but I think even she knows better than to try and run with these odds." Daimen left, the door banging closed behind him.

The vamp stared at her, his eyes too bright. Rissa swallowed. He grinned and licked his lips.

He was way younger than her, as a vamp anyway. Very new, probably less than five years from his turning, and very foul. As a human, she would guess he'd been in his mid-thirties when he'd been made a vamp. A bit demented and not very bright, if Rissa were any judge. Not surprising, not for Daimen. He prized intelligence, yes. But he prized viciousness even more. Along with a certain amount of crazy for the vamps he called his 'cannon fodder'. Easily made, and easily lost. This one was definitely cannon fodder.

And appeared crazy and vicious both.

He reached for her. Rissa closed her eyes as his fingers touched her collarbone, slipping under her shirt. Pretending acquiescence for the moment. But inside she tensed, ready to jump to her feet. This vamp was no match for her one on one and she'd be damned if she'd allow him—

"
What
do you think you are doing?" Daimen's voice. Cold. Black. Furious. The newbie vamp jerked away, yanking his hand away from Rissa as if she'd burned him.

"N-Nothing, boss. Just…you know you said…" The vampire was licking his lips again as Daimen shut the door quietly. Too quietly. Rissa swallowed at that flash of a look she knew all too well. The young vamp didn't know it yet, but he was walking dead in more ways than one.

"Yes. I know what I said. To
her,
you fool." Daimen raised his eyes to the ceiling as if in exasperation and gave a laugh that had the idiot laughing nervously along with him.

"I didn't mean to jump the gun, boss. I'm sorry."

"Oh, not
yet
you're not. But you will be." Daimen's gaze went  past the unfortunate vamp to Rissa. Her sire smiled, then looked back at his lackey who was just staring stupidly, his mouth half open as he tried to work out what Daimen meant.

Daimen rolled his eyes, but when he spoke his voice had that rich, golden timbre that snapped Rissa's back to her old life in just four words.

"On your knees, Gleason."

Immediately, the man folded himself to the linoleum floor, his body moving jerkily, like a puppet on a string. Rissa looked away, the posture all too familiar to her. The person inside had been reduced to an observer inside their own body, no longer controlling, but controlled.

"Now, now. Rissa. Eyes front. There is something I want to show you. Something fun I recently got from some new friends."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, knowing resisting this would be pointless. Daimen was rummaging under the sink, ignoring the man on his knees, whose eyes and jaw were slack. When Daimen turned he had a syringe in his hands. Dull pewter-grey and huge, of a size that must be meant for veterinarian use on horses or some such. It was far too large to be meant for human use.

He waved it at her with a flourish, as if it were a magic wand. Something about the thing made Rissa recoil. Daimen nodded.

"It does make one rather uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Even holding it…" Daimen's lip curled. "Well, it's not pleasant, but I do what I must. You watch this carefully, Miss Riss. I don't want to use this shit on you, but it you make me…well, you'll see."

Then Daimen stabbed the needle deep into the enthralled vampire's neck, pressed the plunger and the horror started in earnest.

Both the kneeling vampire and Rissa's screams shook the small trailer, along with Daimen's laughter.

Green, dark and silent, the trees closed in around them. Too quiet, of course. Even the small, scurrying insects of the night can sense vampires in their midst. They huddled back in their burrows of dirt and grass, afraid to wander far or make a sound.

It was muggy and Jules could hear a river or brook nearby. He glanced down at his watch. 9:47. Cross had had Rissa for close to three hours now. One hundred and eighty minutes. Far less time than he had taken to wipe out Jules' entire family.

He'd promised to hurt her. To make her scream for him.

Despite the plan Jules almost hoped Cross stayed inside with Rissa. He wanted to see that fucker bled. Bad. Scott tapped Jules' arm and put a finger to his lips. Then he pointed. One vamp, leaning against an oak a few yards away.

Jules moved left as Scott went right. He could see their target up ahead. An old trailer, pulled deep into a narrow clearing. He could also smell Rissa now, that honeysuckle sweetness tickling his nose, beckoning him forward.

They slipped closer, Scott had already vanished into the trees on his right, just behind the slope-shouldered wreck of a trailer. Mags was a lithe shadow following in his wake. Jules could hear soft, gasping sobs coming from inside the trailer. Horrible, keening sounds like a wounded animal.
Rissa?

He couldn't be sure, they sounded off somehow, but…

The sounds stopped. Silence that was even more disturbing descended.

Unconsciously Jules sped up, his stomach knotting. Mags looked back at him, shaking her head.

Jules forced himself to slow, gritting his teeth. A scream rent the night along with a body flying over their heads. It slammed into trailer's screen door. There was sudden movement inside. A second latter a white-blonde head popped through the door. Jules' whole body vibrated with the primal need to get Cross, he'd actually taken a step before he heard Mags' frantic hiss.

Cross's head tilted their way at once.

"What have we here?" Cross had straightened, his head tilting in that awful, affected way of his. His eyes searched the clearing, back and forth. Jules was close enough to see his nostrils flare. "More tricks, is it?" The vampire raised his voice to a near shout. "Colton, Isaac, close the fucking circle. I think we have company…" Cross's words died as Miles suddenly emerged from the tree line. Jules resisted the urge to fist pump the night air. "And who the
fuck
are you?"

"I would be pleased to introduce myself." Miles smiled and gave a mocking half bow. "
Le marquis Miles de Rousseau. Allons-nous faire connaissance correctement?"

Cross went white, his mouth thinned to a slit. "Well,
shit."

Then two vampires, both blond and hulking, stumbled into the clearing at the same time, looking comically startled. Their eyes went back and forth between Cross and Miles. "What's going on, boss?"

"Get that son of a bitch," Cross barked, pointing at Miles. His men threw themselves obligingly at the French vamp and all three went down in a tangle of limbs and fists and fangs at the tree line.

Cross whirled, intending to go back inside, but his feet tangled in the bushes next to the door…the bushes that were trying to crawl up his legs, the branches twining from his ankles to his knees in seconds. The vampire stumbled against the door, his eyes wide. "What in the blazes of hell…."

Scott stepped around the far corner of the trailer. Daimen's jaw tightened.
"You?"
His head whipped around as if he realized Scott must not be alone. "What are you doing
here?"

Frowning, Scott studied the vampire. "Have we met?"

Mags was behind him, the Rutger Scott gave her held in both hands. She seemed to have changed her mind about the importance of weaponry. The muzzle was lined up steady as a rock on Cross's chest.

Cross smiled, freeing himself of the entangling greenery with a couple of vicious kicks. A knife now glittered in his hands. "Oh, not really. Just in passing." His voice held a taunt that Jules didn’t like at all.

The vamp flicked a gaze at Mags, his eyes widening slightly, then went back to Scott. "She won't shoot. And even if she does I can kill you faster than that bullet will hit me."

Scott spread his hands lightly. "I think you underestimate the lady, but hell, if you want a shot, take it."

Cross lunged. Mags fired and Scott went down. Jules ran forward, no longer giving a damn about the plan. But Cross had just swiped at Scott as he ran past, heading into the woods, obviously realizing he was outmanned and taking his chance to get clear.

Scott got to his feet, blood dripped from his shirt but he waved off Jules. "I've fucking got this. See to your woman, goddamnit."  And he ran off chasing Cross.

Mags was cursing. "I fucking missed, six feet and I missed."

Kelsey appeared from behind Jules, making him start. "I don't think you missed, Mags, you winged him. That's not just Scott's blood on the ground, there's too much of it. Jules, don't you think she hit him—"

But Jules let Kelsey's voice fade away. He stood in front of the battered screen door. His sharp eyes could see perfectly through the shadowy interior, making out the bright spill of scarlet hair hanging off the bed.

He swallowed and opened the door.

The carnage inside was sickening.

Scott slowed to a walk as the woods deepened around him. High above him, trees and stars swayed against an inky sky.

"You wanted to
play.
Right? Isn't that what you told Jules? You vamp
asshole.
So come out and play already! Or aren't you liking the odds anymore?" Scott laughed, trying to goad the vamp into showing himself. But he got only silence in return. Too much silence. Cross was close, he could feel it.

Scott raised his hands, ignoring the pain in his side, knowing the knife wound was inconsequential, even if it stung like fuck all. He spread out his power. Sinking it into the trees, down their roots, going deep into the warm soil, then out along the blades of grass, up along the moss on the trees and into the ferns…. He opened his arms and breathed in.

The forest shivered in response.

Green and sweet and alive, awareness flooded into him. Awareness of every inch of this small woods, everything that belonged and everything that did
not.

Scott smiled. "Hide and seek, is it? Okay, but I'll have you know I always cheat at that game." He moved closer to where he could sense the vampire, crouched behind a copse of close-growing maple saplings. Like a shot, Daimen Cross exploded from his hiding spot, not away, but directly at Scott once again.

Scott threw up his hands, funneling his power down and out. The vamp had too much speed and strength to entangle his legs, but nettles whipped him and low-growing branches swiped, knocking him this way and that like a pinball in a wild, living, green and angry pinball machine about to flash 'TILT'.

Cursing, Cross gave Scott a venomous look from less than three feet away, then turned and ran.

What a
fucker.
Scott couldn't hope to match the vamp's speed, but he could slow the bastard down and maybe catch up.

As an elemental, Scott could move through the woods like a wraith. Human or not, this was his natural environment and the forest itself sped him along. Bushes parted for him, scrub scurried out of his way, trees bowed aside and soon…

Scott saw a flash of white hair up ahead. He put on another burst of speed, throwing up a hand and slamming it down. Taking vicious pleasure as the vampire failed to dodge the hard slap of a maple that cracked a girder-sized branch upside his head. Blood flew and Cross stumbled, but barely slowed. It was like he was racing for a finish line, a goal in sight...but what?

With a sick feeling, Scott lifted his head and realized exactly what the vampire had been aiming for. Bursting through the tree line into noise and sound and light, Scott emerged into a campground crowded with kids in familiar tan and green uniforms.

And Daimen Cross sauntered a mere hundred yards in front of him. The vampire was at his ease now, even as blood dripped from the side of his head.
So damn close.
Scott’s fingers itched to attack, but he held back at the look in the vamp’s eyes.

“That’s a real fine bonfire there, plant boy. How do you like your Boy Scouts? A nice even brown and a bit melty on the inside, or burnt to a crisp?” Cross took a step towards a tow-headed boy with freckles who was eyeing the two men with his mouth half-open.

Scott watched as the boy’s blue eyes went dull in the flickering light of the fire. The kid dropped the hot dog he was holding and took a few faltering steps toward the huge blaze in the middle of a cluster of tents.

“Don’t.” Scott lifted his hands in surrender, stepping back into the tree cover. “But this isn’t over, asshole. Not by a long shot.”

Cross only smiled. “No, it isn’t. We’ll play again soon. But you run along now.” For a second, something like satisfaction seemed to darken the vampire’s eyes. A satisfaction that made Scott deeply uneasy.

He wanted so badly to just end this fucker.
Now.
Maybe if he…

Daimen lifted a finger and the boy lunged forward, so close to the fire now it had to be hurting him, even though the vampire didn't allow him to call out.

Defeated, Scott turned to go, but anger and frustration had him whirling back around after only a few steps.

Cross was gone. The boy he had used stood rubbing his arms, staring at the place where the vampire had been, his face slack with horror.

Blood and gore covered the floor of the small room. Streaks of thick crimson twirled and splattered across the yellowed linoleum like some possessed toddler’s fingerpaints. Chucks of flesh and bone smoked here and there, sticking to the brownish walls, the tattered white curtains and even the low ceiling. The smell was awful, like bleach and the worst gas station bathroom in history. Jules slipped in the muck as he moved to the bare mattress where Rissa was lying, sprawled on her back, quiet and still. She looked untouched, except for some faint purpling around her throat and a darker bruise at one temple. Gently he brushed her hair back as he slipped down next to her.

“Rissa? Wake up, baby.”

She stirred at the first brush of his fingertips. Without opening her eyes, her hand came up and covered his. Relief poured through him, his fingers shook under hers and his head bowed.
Oh god, she was safe.

He wanted to yank her into his arms, to kiss her hard and tell her everything was going to be okay…

But it wasn't.

Jules looked up dazedly as Miles entered. The French vamp appeared unscathed except for a few drops of blood on his shirt sleeve and collar. “You got the rest?” Jules pulled his hand gently, but firmly away from Rissa's and stood up, moving to the other side of the room, unable to meet her eyes.

“Oui.”

“All three of them?” Miles’ shrug was eloquent. Jules’s eyebrows lifted despite himself. Maybe he should give a little thought to being less mouthy around Miles.

“The para. Scott. He went after Cross. I lost them in the trees.”

Good, thought Jules. Scott, in the woods, alone with Cross? He liked it.

“He is powerful, the plant man. I have never seen such things.”

“It’s nice to know you can still be impressed, darling.” This was from Kelsey, who had started wiping Rissa’s face with a cold cloth pulled from the rusted, but still working sink.

Jules was having a hard time looking at Rissa. Every cell in his body longed to go to her, to comfort and soothe…but he wouldn’t do that. Especially after tonight. Seeing Daimen again, hearing his taunting voice, the past seemed to breathe in the room, alive and hungry, hovering just above his neck like a predator ready to pounce…

Jules’ hands clenched.

“There is something you need to know.  All of you.” Rissa’s voice sounded tattered, bereft of its usually smoky suede richness.

Miles turned politely, but Jules turned his back to her, unable to face the expression he feared he’d see in those ice-blue eyes.

“He…Daimen tortured one of the vamps before you got here. That's all this." She waved a hand at the carnage. "One of the younger ones, because he, he…he touched me without permission.”

Jules heard her swallow and his fists threatened to crack.

“I’ve never seen anything that could hurt us like that, but what he had, it
...,"
she lifted her eyes and grimaced. "Daimen injected a whole vial of this weird silvery stuff into the guy's throat. It was beyond awful. He was shaking and screaming and then his whole body started to…to
melt.
From the inside out. Then he just sort of exploded." She gagged and put an arm over her stomach. Kelsey pulled her close, looking up at the men with a baffled expression.

“Where?” Miles said.

“Under the sink. Daimen had a couple of the syringes in a bucket. Do you think it's some kind of lead compound?”

Miles shook his head as he opened the rust-pocked cabinet door. "Lead doesn't hurt us. It slows us down, weakens us, yes. But unless the quantities in question are huge…," he pulled out a yellow bucket and set in on the chipped and peeling Formica counter. Under a couple of crusty washcloths, he uncovered the vials Rissa was talking about. Two syringes, glittering silvery-grey in the sickly light of the trailer’s one bare bulb. Jules and he exchanged a look.