Resistance (Dark Realm Series) (2 page)

Driscoll shrugged off my hold. "You
didn't have to maul me, Amy."

I bit my lip to keep myself from
correcting him for the third time, as he walked off and I followed.

"I wonder who was in the
carriage," I said. "Must've been someone important since it was drawn
by vampire horses."

"Not necessarily." Driscoll
sniffed derisively. "And not necessarily vampire horses."

I snorted. "When was the last time
you saw a living horse? They were consumed or converted long ago. Besides,
didn't you see their glowing eyes?"

Just then the smell of vomit and blood
invaded my nostrils from nearby. I had to continue forward despite my own
nausea, not wanting to lose Driscoll, but I tried to step carefully.
Nevertheless, with my next stride, my foot must had to have landed on the
blood, or at least some of it, because the psychic vibration of the blood's
memory shot like a bullet through my brain, sending me a vision. A
human—no more than age seventeen—had been taken on this spot.

An image of the young man with
chin-length golden blond hair flashed behind my eyes. Cameron...Cam...The name
came to me. His name was Cameron McAlvy. So young.

A dark hand, the fingers tipped with
razor sharp four-inch claws, reached out and seized Cam, tangling in his hair.
Obviously, this was a ghoul and his victim. Cam struggled against the hold and
a chunk of his hair ripped out. The claws reached for the Cam's shoulder,
slicing through the skin as it grasped him. The young man's pain, panic and
fear were as acid in my throat. I knew what would happen next…The teeth biting
into flesh.

Help him!
My inner voice screamed at me.

Cam and his attacker were nowhere around.
With deliberation, I tuned out the images. Nothing would help the victim now
and the vibrations of a kill would destroy my hard fought veneer of
nonchalance. The meeting with Fenwick demanded calm. I reminded myself that the
demon's information could help many people, not just
one
. Still the fate of that one nagged
at me.

The old guilt again.

I must've hesitated too long before
moving again because Driscoll said with impatience, "What is it?"

"Nothing." No one knew of my
"talent" for reading blood. That and the crimson teardrops tattooed
on my shoulder, each tear commemorating an individual vampire kill. I wanted to
keep my various types of insanity to myself. Driscoll wasn't a friend to be
confided in and the general harbored even more suspicions about the paranormal
than I did.
 
And if the general had
suspicions about someone, they tended to disappear.

Just a step ahead of me, Driscoll turned
down a narrow alley, most of the length of which was shrouded in shadow and
fog.

Halting, I called to the Lieutenant,
"Do you really think we should go this way?"

Driscoll stopped and turned back to me
with a glare. "This is the most direct route to Fenwick's shop."

"I know." The statement was
offered with a heavy side of sarcasm. "But if something comes at us in
this alley there are only two ways out. Strategically, we can defend ourselves
more easily on the streets." Why did I have to explain this to Driscoll?
He should know better than I.

"If something happens, I can handle
it, " he said with irritating braggadocio and then continued into the dark
passage. "Are you going to be insubordinate, Corporal?"

"No...sir." I added his title
grudgingly and then trudged forward. If he had to scold me, at least he'd
remembered my rank.

I'd never actually seen Driscoll in
action, only heard the stories he told of his exploits. But I did know the
number of comrades who'd died while on those missions with him. Even though I
couldn't see the "dust" in this alley, I knew I didn't want to bite
it.

After about twenty meters, sickening
chomping and slobbering sounds emerged from the fog. Behind the mist, we
practically stumbled upon a figure with its back to us, hunched over and
chewing upon the shoulder of a young man. The youth, his shirt half torn off,
hung limply in the ghoul's macabre embrace. After a moment I realized how
mistaken I'd been earlier in not allowing the "blood images" to play
out completely in my mind. Had I done so I might have known they would be here.
The ghoul and his victim I'd sensed earlier stood right here before me.
Evidently the villain had decided to enjoy his tasty treat at leisure.

The ghoul must have heard our approach.
He stopped feeding. His head whirled toward us without releasing his hold on
his victim. With fierce, yellow eyes he glared. Bloody lips bared to reveal
pointed and deadly teeth as he growled at us. A ghoul was created by a vampire
and operated under the complete control of their maker unless the vampire had
been destroyed. Most ghouls currently roaming London were under the control of
Prince Leopold. This one was not garbed in a uniform but instead wore a
gentleman's top hat and tailcoat under a grey overcoat, so his allegiance was
unclear.

"Leave them," Driscoll ordered
and he skirted by to continue down the alley. "We don't have time for
this."

"Are you kidding?" I hissed, my
hand going to the hilt of the silver dagger tucked in my waistband.

The sagging blond head of the victim
—Cam—tilted back and pleading eyes met mine. He gave a weak groan.

"No," Driscoll said.
"We're late. Leave them now.
That is
an order."

The ghoul's bloody mouth twisted into a
smirk and he chuckled.

The general would probably agree with
Driscoll. She'd often said our mission was to save humanity not individual
humans. But fury pumped through my veins like an injection of nitroglycerin at
the thought of just letting this boy die. I hadn't joined the Resistance to
walk away while a ghoul slaughtered a human.

Throwing off my coat, my fingers closed
around the hilt of the dagger and I pulled the weapon free. I screamed a battle
cry and charged the ghoul. If I could get a cut in before the much larger
monster struck me, the silver of the blade would do much to disable him.

Although extremely agile, ghouls were
only marginally stronger than humans. They did, however, have the advantage of
superhuman recuperative powers making them difficult to kill. Nevertheless,
silver had a disabling effect. Silver wounds did not heal with the immediacy of
those inflicted by normal weapons.

The moment he realized I had not followed
my orders, surprise registered on the ghoul's face. The smirk slipped away and
he went wide-eyed and slack jawed. I was on him before he moved. I jabbed at
his gut with the knife and the ghoul jerked to the side. Instead of a disabling
wound, the blade merely slashed his forearm. The cut at least made him drop his
hold on Cam and the youth slid to the ground in a heap.

The ghoul swung at me. I swiveled under
the arc of his arm as it came around his back. Another jab of the knife. This
time a superficial, but no doubt painful, cut opened in his side. The ghoul
screeched angrily and whirled around. He blocked a third swing of the knife and
the dagger deflected and buried itself to the hilt in his thigh.

Grabbing at the handle I found it slick
with the black blood seeping from his wound and couldn't pull it free. The
ghoul growled and swung again. His claws raked my shoulder and the sting
shocked me. The blow from his meaty hand sent me flying into the brick wall
lining one side of the alley. The impact of my back against the surface of the
wall jarred me from head to foot and I had a brief moment of dazed confusion.
Expecting the ghoul to come finish me off, I was surprised when instead he
turned back to Cam.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw
Driscoll in the middle of the alley, like a pillar in an earthquake, stock
still yet shaking with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth pinched in a trembling
line. Fantastic. He had the only gun the general had allocated to our
assignment.
 
Right now it hung at
his side in his right hand, the weapon limp and useless.

"Shoot him," I screamed.

No reaction came from Driscoll. Clearly,
the Lieutenant was going to be of no help.

My hand went to my wrist and touched the
"chain" there which had served as a twenty-four inch supply of cheese
slicing wire until I'd fashioned it into a makeshift bracelet. My weapon of
last resort. This moment probably qualified.

By the time I'd untied the ribbon, which
secured it, the ghoul had grasped Cam by the hair and lifted him from the
ground. Reaching in his pocket, the ghoul extracted an object and held it to
Cam's chest over the boy's heart. A faint reddish glow emanated from beneath
the ghoul's palm as he chanted in a low murmur I couldn't understand. Cam cried
out and then moaned.

With my bracelet weapon in hand I charged
at the ghoul just as I heard a few scattered words sounded like Latin:
portare animam
tuam.
Leaping the last few feet, I landed on the ghoul's back. My weight
sent him stumbling forward and he dropped Cam. The ghoul bucked and thrashed as
he screeched in fury. The rotting flesh smell of the creature forced a gag
reflex but I fought down the bile that had rushed into my throat as I clung to
him.
 
It would serve him right if I
retched down his back.

Simultaneously, I wrapped my legs around
his waist and twisted the wire around the ghoul's neck. Pulling with every bit
of strength I could muster, the wire tightened and the ghoul's scream turned to
a faint gurgle. But the lack of vocal ability didn't stop him from lurching in
violent motions designed to throw me off. The ghoul reached for his neck and
his claws sliced into my hands and arms like mirror shards.

Fortunately, I wore leather wrist guards
or I'd have been bleeding out from a strike to a major artery. An involuntary
cry of pain escaped me but I didn't release my grip on the wire. If anything I
tightened my hold and I felt the wire bite into his flesh...still not enough to
slow him down.

The wire wasn't sharp enough nor was my
power great enough to cut completely through the cartilage and bone. The thick,
slimy ink-like blood poured out of his wound over my arms and down his front.
Good thing I couldn't
read
ghoul blood. I didn't need to fight off a vision right now
too.

"Driscoll," I shouted as the
monster and I struggled to see which one of us would survive this night.
"Lieutenant Driscoll! Shoot him." Even if he did manage to regain his
senses enough to fire, the chances were fifty-fifty Drisoll would hit me
instead of the ghoul. With my luck probably more like ninety-ten, but it was
worth a shot—literally.

 
I needn't have worried, Driscoll still didn't move.

My strength was beginning to wane. In
another few moments…

Cam rose up from where he lay and crawled
toward us. He grasped the hilt of the dagger protruding from the ghoul's thigh
and used it to lever himself into a standing position.

The ghoul gave another gurgle, either
with pain from the dagger or the wire at his throat. Who could have known at
this point?

Cam tugged at the handle and it jerked
free. I couldn't have been happier if I'd been a personal witness to Arthur
freeing Excalibur. And like Arthur, Cam had the instinct for the use of his
weapon. He stabbed the silver blade into the ghoul's chest, into what passed
for a ghoul heart.

As Cam twisted the blade, removed it, and
then thrust again, I suddenly felt the last resistance in the ghoul's neck give
way as the wire garrote severed the last few inches. The head, top hat and all,
slipped forward and then plopped onto the ground before rolling hatless into
the shadows. The ghoul's body crumpled and it went down.

So did I.

"Appear
weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."

Sun
Tzu,
The Art
of War

My right foot was trapped beneath the
ghoul's body. Using what felt like the last of my strength, I kicked the dead
thing with my left foot and scooted far enough to free myself.

Driscoll emerged from his stupor and
stomped over to me.

"I should shoot you," he said.

My arms felt hopelessly weak, as if the bones
and muscle had been removed. Not only that, rivers of blood ran from my
shredded flesh. Now that the shock was wearing off, my arms and hands felt like
they were continually being stung by a thousand wasps. I wasn't certain my legs
would hold me up even if I could manage the strength to rise.

"Help me up," I said to
Driscoll.

His features twisted with anger. Driscoll
barked out, "the general shall hear of your
insubordination
."

"And she'll hear about your
cowardice
,"
I shouted. "You son of a bitch. You almost got us all killed. I'd cut off
your balls but I don't think you have any."

"How...How dare you?" he
sputtered. A fiery blaze lit in his eyes. Driscoll's arm rose upward until I
found myself staring into the muzzle of the pistol, with his finger twitching
against the trigger.