Vesik 04 - This Broken World (32 page)

There was only one vampire left alive at the end.

“You’re not a zombie.” I looked at his shattered legs as I slammed a speed loader into the pepperbox. “This won’t kill you, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.” I shot him in the gut, started to ask him a question, and then shot him again for good measure. “Do you work for Vassili?”

What?
The voice seemed to come from inside my head even as it vibrated the air around me.

I looked to my left and found Happy staring at me. I nodded once. “We were betrayed.”

“You’ll kill me either way,” the vampire said.

I sighed and fell onto the bullet wounds with my knee.

The vampire screamed.

“There’s something you need to understand, my fanged friend. You see that vampire?” I pointed at Sam. “That’s my sister you just tried to kill. So you can tell me what I want to know …” I leaned close enough he could have bitten me. “Or I will feed you to that dragon in little bitty pieces. Starting with your toes.”

“In the middle of war?” the vampire scoffed at me and then winced when I shifted.

I pulled him up slightly by the collar of his black silk shirt. I smiled, called a shield around my right hand, and punched him as hard as I could. His nose flattened and ruptured and he screamed again.

“Yes!” he said in a wet, nasally cry. “Vassili gave the orders to kill you after Devon failed.”

“Devon?” So many little, terrible pieces began falling into place in my mind.

Zola shook her head. “To kill who?” she asked. “Say it.”

The vampire shook beneath me. “Vassili gave the orders to kill Zola and the Vesiks! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s not what Ah
wanted
to hear,” Zola said. “But it’s why Ah have to do this.”

She reached out and wrapped the vampire in her necromancy. A deep frown crawled over her face before rage took its place. Golden light flared through the dark wave of necromancy, and the vampire’s soul was torn away. His body fell limp beneath me.

“Carter,” Zola said. “If you would be so kind?”

Carter’s claws flashed out and the vampire’s soul fell into ribbons.

Zola began picking up the pieces with a soulart.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sending a message,” she said. “Aeros, where is the Pit?”

He closed his eyes and then turned to point. “They move in the west, but they are headed south.”

Zola nodded. “Joining up with the Unseelie.” She tied the strips of yellow soul in her hands, quickly overlapping the edges until they resembled a Celtic knot.

“Zola,” Ward said. “Are you sure?”

“A man has declared war on us, Ward. Ah’m only letting him know Ah accept.” Zola’s hands suddenly turned palms-up. The tight-knit ball soared through the sky. A thin trail of ley line energy led back to Zola’s hand. When the light was over the southwestern trees, she lit the fuse.

Electric blue power shot across the sky, and the yellow knot detonated. An image of the dead vampire appeared in the sky, larger than the moon. His voice drowned out the battle.

“Vassili gave the orders to kill Zola and the Vesiks! Is that what you wanted to hear?” The voice repeated itself three times before it began to fade. The vampire’s soul expired doing Zola’s will.

“Oh my,” Aeros said, a smile fracturing his face. “I do not believe that is how Vassili believed the evening would go.” Aeros turned and looked at Sam. “You have many friends within the Pit, Samantha. They are broken. Our allies are coming.”

A deep, resounding note echoed in the distance. We all looked up and to the southwest as another note played. It was like the timpani of a forgotten god vibrating from the depths of the earth. The tempo increased as a fine mist rolled out of the woods. It was white and stayed low to the ground, oozing forward in a steady rise and fall to the beat of the drums.

Ghosts and magic seemed to surge with every beat that sounded across the field. Voices of ten thousand souls threatened to overwhelm us all as the line marched forward.

“Concentrate,” Zola said. “You have done well to block them out in this battle. Do not let down your guard yet.”

I took a deep breath and blocked out as much as I could.

A single shadow followed the mist. Antlers that ended in wicked black points gleamed in the dim light atop Hern’s bulky form. He carried a bow in one hand, and a massive axe strapped to his back. His armor was made from mail as black as his antlers, accented with silver details so fine I couldn’t make them out at a distance.

I watched him draw an arrow from his quiver as a hundred more shadows eased their way through the mists behind him. Our enemy was many, and I knew the tides had turned for the worse.

The trolls stopped milling around the woods and began heading in our general direction.

“Carter,” Aeros said, his voice deep enough to compete with the basso pounding of the drums. “Go to the wolves. The Irish Brigade comes from the northwest.”

“Maggie is with them,” Carter said.”

Aeros nodded. “Vicky, Happy, with me. Sam, take Jasper and get behind the lines. Watch the back of our line. Everyone else return to Leviticus. We cannot let the Fae interfere. If Leviticus loses control, everything here will die.”

I nodded at the Old God. I trusted his judgment more than my own at that point.

The blur that leapt over the remnants of the troll wall caused me to flinch. A heavy cape snapped in the wind behind it, and the vampire’s feet squelched as it impacted the blood-soaked earth.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“Z
ola,” Vik said. “Thank God.” His face was a mass of blood. A wound tore through his right shoulder, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He reached out to Sam and hugged her briefly. “You are all okay?”

“For now,” I said. Three more shadows flew over and around the wall to join us.

“I couldn’t kill him,” Dominic snarled as he punched his fist into his palm. “Fucking bastard got away.”

A wisp-thin vampire looked even smaller beside Dominic. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’d become a recluse after Alexi died. “Jonathan?”

He nodded to me. “Alexi, rest his soul … Alexi loved Sam like a sister. Vassili will die for this.”

Sam put her arms around the smaller vampire. More shadows swarmed our small gathering. Some faces I recognized, but there were several I didn’t.

“Vesik?” the nearest vampire said. I couldn’t place his accent. His skin seemed darker than the other vampires’ and his nose was a bit broader.

I nodded to him.

“I am Cizin.”

“Cizin?” Zola asked. “You’re with Camazotz.”

The vampire laughed. “You ruined my surprise. Camazotz sent me to watch Vassili long ago. Only recently did he order me into the Pit.”

“Ah doubt he had to order you to do much of anything.”

Cizin smiled.

Lightning as black as the Abyss I’d walked with Gaia struck the earth and caused Hern to stumble backwards out in the field. Shards of charred earth burst into the air and a gray mist trailed up from a figure cloaked in darkness.

Glenn did not speak. He moved.

Hern loosed an arrow faster than I could follow. Glenn slid to the left, and the shaft passed him harmlessly, embedding itself in the stone of the monument not twenty feet from my head.

The battle blurred into motion from there.

Cheers erupted behind us. I turned to find the line of werewolves going into a frenzy as they pushed toward Glenn. The wolves had killed the majority of the Unseelie’s front line, but several still fought as the werewolves charged forward. Their massive arms reached out and crushed the Fae as fast as their claws could rip out their innards. The sudden charge caught the Fae off guard.

Aeros turned his attention from the enemy to the vampires. “Vik, how damaged was the Irish Brigade?”

“They had some casualties,” Vik said.

“Reinforce them.” Even when the Old God spoke softly, the earth beneath our feet vibrated with it. “We need to strengthen our western flank.”

“Consider it done,” Vik said.

Several knights took to the air and flowed toward Glenn. Black mist rose from his shoulders, and the knights recoiled as Glenn’s helmet solidified. The white streak across his faceplate was a stark contrast to the darker depths of his armored form, and it marked him for what he was. He drew a sword, and the light around him vanished into its pitch-black blade.

Glenn butchered three knights in two quick sweeps of his arm. I cursed as the swords and armor of his foes shattered like glass beneath the enchanted blade. The cheers of the Fae were joined by the howls of the wolves. Our entire line reunited behind Glenn.

The Unseelie Fae crossing the field behind Hern began to move faster.

“Remember the plan,” Aeros said. “Move!”

We scattered like roaches.

Ward joined us as we passed the opposite edge of the monument. I blinked as I realized he hadn’t been with us when the vampires showed up.

“Too many powers,” Ward said. “I prefer not to be surrounded by powers I don’t know.”

“Smart,” Zola said.

Our line pushed forward again. It felt surreal, charging behind the line in relative safety, while our allies engaged the front. Every fiber of my being wanted to kill something, or run in the other direction, but the line insulated us. Almost all of the Unseelie’s front was dead. Empty armor and broken weapons littered the battlefield. For every vacant suit of armor, it seemed there was at least one dead wolf. Bodies were bent and broken and disfigured.

Foster ran beside me. The steady rhythm of his golden chainmail ringing as it rose and fell was reassuring. The glaze of blood and gore covering his entire body was not. “Look at them,” Foster said.

I followed his gaze and almost stumbled when I saw the battle between Ezekiel and the Old Man. Incantations flashed between them that could level a city if executed poorly. Every moment seemed to increase the pace and severity of their attacks. I wondered why until I noticed the slow forward movement of the battlefield’s gravemakers. They walked into the conflict and were sucked up into a vortex of power. Something about the rising gravemakers seemed off. They looked small, and I could view them with my Sight without feeling like the power would sear my eyes from their sockets.

To my sight, the battle looked like two suns in a state of flux, expanding and crashing into each other while blue plasma crawled across their surfaces before falling away and starting anew.

Someone yelled “Trolls!” as we reached the northern part of the line. A roar followed, and Jasper’s form disappeared over the hill. Something else screamed, and pieces of a massive troll flew over the tree line. Half its body was almost ash.

The earth roiled in front of us. Tiny bits of iron and earth and rust rose from the field like ink through water. They slithered and built upon each bit that came before them. I unfocused my Sight as much as I could. The power was too much to look upon directly. The legs solidified first, ending in feet like tree stumps. The body snapped out from there, torso, arms, and head.

Its fingers began to twitch as thin, inky tendrils of darkness rose from the shadows beneath the gravemaker. One finger jumped and then relaxed before another random finger did the same. The gravemaker’s skin solidified into a grotesque surface like fleshy bark with deep cracks and crevices. A thousand cracks echoed around us like cartilage breaking as the gravemaker straightened and raised its face.

Gravemakers had deceptively fast attacks, and this was no different. It struck out and caught the jerkin around Ward’s waist. He tore the garment off and let the gravemaker have it.

“Look out!” Foster said.

The wolf hadn’t heard him. It backed up too close to the gravemaker as it battled one of the Fae knights. The gravemaker’s hand settled over the wolf’s skull and squeezed. I almost gagged as brain and bone erupted from the wolf’s face.

Horror etched itself across the knight’s features. He retreated, one of limp wing trailing behind him as he ran back into the enemy lines.

“Run!” Zola said.

The gravemaker caught her cloak and she choked as it slammed her to the ground.

I didn’t think. I reacted. The Splendorum Mortem came into my hand. Its cold metal blade warmed in my palm and then ignited. A dark power lit from its cutting edge, extending no more than a foot. I jammed the Splendorum Mortem through the gravemaker’s jaw, and into what should have been its brain.

Dead white eyes shifted from Zola to me. I ripped the dagger out through its face and the gravemaker lurched backwards as Zola’s cloak fell from its hand. I watched in fascination and horror as fragments of iron and rust filled the wound and the face knit itself back together.

“Fuck me,” Ward said, shock plain in his voice. “Run!”

This thing, this gravemaker, was every bit the monster Zola had told us about as children. The Splendorum Mortem had the power to slay a god, and this creature simply rebuilt itself around the wound.

We ran.

“Get to the other side of the Old Man,” Zola said between ragged breaths as we sprinted. “It may get absorbed.”

I angled back to the east, staying just south of the battle raging between Ezekiel and the Old Man. It was the first look I’d gotten at the Old Man since the battle had escalated.

“It’s not going to be absorbed,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Zola asked as she turned to me. “We don’t know that yet.”

I pointed to the circle of shadows around the battle. The power slamming against my senses was sucking in the poorly formed gravemakers, but a line of at least fifteen freely circled Ezekiel and the Old Man.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What about the gravemakers I destroyed at Stones River?”

“You cannot destroy them,” Ward said. “Scatter them to the four winds, and eventually their damned pieces will find one another.”

I stumbled as we made our way closer to the fight. Stone and dirt had been pulled and blasted from the ground, scarring the earth all around us. Some of the larger rocks had settled over the field like headstones, splayed at random angles like an ancient cemetery fallen into disrepair.