Vesik 3 Winter's Demon (10 page)

Zola shot me a look. “No, Ah mean every
thing.”

“We’ve dropped breadcrumbs into the rumor mill for the better part of a year,” Edgar said as he set his ale down. “Anyone with knowledge of the Blessing believes it is below Rivercene, and they dare not venture there.” Edgar shook his head. “I never imagined you would have hidden it anywhere nearby.”

Cassie just smiled.

The bartender dropped off a very un-Irish appetizer of toasted ravioli. Several hands shot out at once and a small battle for the parmesan cheese ensued. Sam won. Sam always wins when parmesan is on the line. I flashed her a smile and she narrowed her eyes.

Edgar swallowed a toasted rav and chased it with some ale before continuing.

“They’ll all come here. We’ll be waiting for them.”

“Us?” Dad asked. “Just us? How many could show up? We don’t have the numbers to engage more than a handful.”

“It’s not just us, Dimitry,” Zola said. “There are three more Watchers in this bar. You may have missed the vampires on the roof.”

Sam glanced up at Zola and then at Vassili.

Vassili’s eyebrows were raised. “You are observant.”

“Ah’m not senile yet,” Zola said.

Vassili smiled and gave Zola a silent toast before taking a drink.

“The Thunderbird is here—” Zola started to say.

“Yeah, that has no chance of backfiring in fantastic and horrifying ways,” Foster muttered.

Zola’s eyes moved to the fairy as she finished. “—and is our easiest path if Ezekiel comes. The Guardian is here, and an old friend should be meeting us soon.”

Edgar’s eyes flicked to Zola and then to Foster. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“You don’t,” Zola said.

A busboy, or girl in this case, picked up our appetizer plates and the bartender set down a tableful of steaming food. I took a deep breath and almost drooled on the bread.

“Oh man,” Foster and I said together.

“Bacon and cabbage, wheaten bread, and poundies,” the bartender said. “Enjoy.”

“Poundies?” I asked as he walked away. “Looks like mashed potatoes.”

“Yeah, until you taste it,” Foster said.

So I did. It was creamier than most American mashed potatoes and the scallions added a sharp, onion flavor. “You’re right.”

“Bacon and cabbage, what more can you say?” Dad said as he scooped up a mouthful.

“I can say give me bread,” Sam said as she tore a piece in half and almost groaned.

Silence reigned for a while after that, as it often does when good food abounds. When we wrapped up, Mike leaned back in his chair and stretched.

“So what do we do now?” the demon asked.

“Walk the streets,” Edgar said.

“Umm, no?” Sam said with a smirk.

Cassie and Aideen snickered. Vassili choked on his ale as he fought back a laugh.

“That is not what he meant,
da?”

Edgar ignored them. “We make it known we’re here. They’ll come after us. If Philip or Zachariah, or anyone under their orders sees us, they’ll bring everything they have in the area to bear. We’ll engage them at Rivercene, away from the city. They’ll show their hand before they know ours.”

I wasn’t sure if Edgar was a genius, or suicidal, or a suicidal genius. I was fairly certain the night wouldn’t be dull.

CHAPTER NINE

“F
oster, is it just me or does this seem like a really shitty plan,” I said as we bundled up and followed the group to the front of the bar.

“I don’t know,” Foster said. “Edgar can be a pretty devious bastard. I don’t think he’d put his own people at risk if he wasn’t confident.”

I nodded and walked out into an icy breeze.

Foster mumbled a string of curses, but all I caught was “Bloody cold as a witch’s tits out here.”

“In my experience—” I said.

“Stop, just stop. I don’t want to hear about you and my cousin and what new horrific things you’ve found to do to each other.”

I grinned as Foster scooted his legs under the edge of my jacket’s collar.

Sam turned toward us. “You’re a pervert, Demon.”

“What?” Mike said with a frown. “What was that for?”

Aideen giggled from the pocket of Sam’s coat. “She meant Damian.”

“Oh,” Mike said. “Can’t argue that.”

I gave them a little bow from the waist. “I try. Although, in my defense, I haven’t violated any coffee mugs.”

Sam flashed her fangs at me and turned around with a little laugh while Foster muttered obscenities from my shoulder. We walked past the cars, angling for the old Butternut Bread building past Chestnut. A shadow flitted by in my periphery, drawing my eye up and down the long structure while we waited for the signal to change. The building was all brick, and it looked like it could have been a repair shop at some point, but now the bays were bricked up. There was no sign of the shadow. I didn’t know if the building was home to a bakery or what, but the name sounded tasty.

I glanced at the roof as we crossed, catching movement in one of the deeper shadows. I raised my Sight and looked again. The ley lines all throughout the area were a mess, possibly scrambled by the Guardian or perhaps the presence of the Thunderbird. The lines leapt and dove from the ground, and as I traced one particularly high arc, I found the source of the shadow I’d glimpsed earlier. Another necromancer, and I was pretty damn sure he had been tracking us.

I looked away casually and sidled up beside the rest of the group as they waited to cross the street again.

“Necromancer on the roof,” I whispered. “The vampires all have amulets?”

Zola had gifted Vassili’s vampires amulets to protect them from necromancy. It was a risk, granting them power like that, but their alliance had already helped save our asses.

Vassili nodded. “Of course. This would not be a fight for vampires otherwise, my friend.” He held up his bronze amulet. It was still on the black silk cord Zola had given him. Runes blazed on either side. Deep red, yellow, and violet lines twisting around each rune, penetrating the amulet and forming a delicate-looking braid.

As I let my Sight fade, I began to notice pale gray forms all around us. I couldn’t suppress a shiver. A hell of a lot of ghosts were gathering, probably drawn to whatever art the necromancers were warming up around us.

I caught a glimpse of dark hair and a weak chin beneath a black hood as it vanished around the next corner. Sam blurred into motion. She stuck her head around the edge of the building, low to the ground. She nodded to Vassili and came back in a hurry.

“It’s him,” she said. “Zachariah’s here.”

“Good,” Edgar said. “I didn’t think it would take long to bring them out. Get back to the cars. We meet at Rivercene. If they attack, I don’t want civilians in harm’s way.”

Good was not exactly a word I normally associated with Zachariah.

We split up, Edgar and Zola took the fairies in her car. They pulled out before we piled into my car and I swear the shadows hopped and slithered along behind them, following the car across the bridge. One had a shock of white hair. Vassili.

“Hurry,” Mike said. “They do not need to be alone for this.”

Sam, Mike, Dad, and I climbed into my old ’32 Ford. I started the car and flipped a questionably legal U-turn. Though there were still few parking spaces, traffic was gone. We hit the signals just right and started over the bridge.

“That’s no riverboat,” Mike said as he leaned toward the window. “Military?”

I glanced out the window and saw the small black craft near the casino.

Dad leaned over Mike to look. “Gunboat. Looks old.”

The city went black. The casino’s lights were extinguished in a heartbeat. Streetlights died, and the only luminescence I could see for miles was headlights.

“Christ, I can’t see shit behind us.” I floored the pedal and shot across the rest of the bridge. I could see Zola’s brake lights off to the east.

“Hurry,” Sam said. The stress in her voice ratcheted up the anxiety in the car.

We slid on the gravel as I took the turn faster than I should have and rocketed toward Rivercene’s driveway. Zola had gone past the house.

“Lights are still on in the mansion,” Dad said.

“Follow Zola,” Mike said.

She cut her lights and pulled behind a small cluster of very large trees. I did the same and drove the last quarter mile by moonlight.

“What the hell is a gunboat doing here?” Dad asked.

“Mercenaries,” Mike said as we started to climb out of the car. “Disposable men.”

We closed the doors as quietly as possible and regrouped, with everyone between the cars. Edgar and Vassili were nowhere to be seen. Combined with the stand of trees, the cars made a crappy shield, but it was better than nothing.

“Ah did not anticipate so many more mercenaries here,” Zola said, her voice barely a whisper. “That boat may hold a dozen.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Dad said as he unwrapped the whaling gun. “Be careful Sam, Damian. I love you both.” With that he turned and slunk away into the shadows toward the river.

“Dad?” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I can get him,” Sam said.

Mike shook his head and gently put his arm out to stop Sam. “He’s a military man. He knows what he’s doing. He knows the risk.”

“Dammit,” Sam said.

I ran my hand through my hair. “We can’t lose them both.”

“We haven’t lost either one,” Sam said. “We’ll get Mom back.”

“Enough,” Zola said as she put a hand on either of our shoulders. “Focus.”

“I’ll follow him,” Aideen said. “Nothing will harm him.”

She hugged Foster and took to the air.

Quiet footsteps came up behind us. I turned with my pepperbox drawn. Edgar stood there with two other Watchers.

“Why are we helping Vesik?” the short blonde woman asked. She wore a suit much like Edgar’s.

“Do not argue, Mindy,” Edgar said. “They are here to help, and we shall do the same.”

“She has a point,” The other Watcher said as he adjusted his black bowler. He was big, and I waited for his suit to tear when he moved his arms. “We’ve lost too many men to be out here babysitting a goddamned necromancer.”

Edgar didn’t even flinch. He didn’t even seem annoyed at being questioned. “You have your orders.”

“Fine,” the larger Watcher said. “So long as we see some action.”

“Do not be casual,” Edgar said. “We face many this night.”

I heard the hiss of Dad’s whaling gun followed by a clang and screams. A thunder followed the orange glow of an explosion through the shadowy branches of the southern trees.

“The mercenaries have lost,” Mike said, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

There was another hiss, but no screams were heard as a second fireball erupted behind the tree line. The ground shook as the explosion expanded, roared, and slowly died out.

“You two,” Edgar said to the Watchers, “flank the house. Foster, move into the trees. Stay out of sight as best you can. Zola, we’ll follow the path Dimitry and Aideen took. Vassili is already scouting ahead. You three,” Edgar said as he pointed at me, Mike, and Sam, “hole up in the shell of that guest house.”

The other Watchers left with a nod.

“Sorry,” Edgar whispered. “They have to believe you all listen to me.”

Zola’s face pulled up in a wrinkly smile. “For now, we’ll survive.”

We scattered into the night.

“Go behind Rivercene,” Mike whispered. “We don’t know what’s between us and the river.”

Sam nodded and we followed him to the back of the mansion. Sam scouted ahead and peeked around the edge of the covered wraparound porch. She held a finger up and we froze. Sam crouched and leapt lightly to the roof above the wooden porch before disappearing in silence. A few seconds later she landed on the ground beside us.

“Clear.”

We moved forward again, staying low and hugging the side of the structure. At the next corner I could see the old guest house a short way off, a squat brick structure barely lit by the moonlight. Our path looked clear, but we waited for a moment while silence reigned in the darkness. Every step in the brittle grass seemed like a tree splintering in the stillness.

Mike pointed toward the edge of the roof and crouched. Sam leaned forward, and I could see her squinting before she shook her head. Mike nodded and led us along the main house and up to the gravel drive in near silence before we slipped into the black rectangle that was once the front door.

The loudest sound was my own heartbeat until another small explosion echoed up from the river.

“Leftovers?” I whispered.

Mike shrugged and then froze. A lance of adrenaline stiffened my spine as something thudded against the roof. I pulled the pepperbox out of its holster and slid around the corner into a hallway. Mike shook his head and held his index finger over his lips. Quiet.

I nodded.

The first man to walk by the door died in utter silence as Mike’s blackened forearms reached out and snapped his neck like a sapling. He handed the body to Sam and she gently laid it in the corner.

It. Christ, it’s a he. The man didn’t look evil. Hell, he looked like he probably had a wife and kids and paid his taxes on time.

Sam grabbed my shirt and put her face next to my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop. These bastards took Mom, they might kill Dad, and they’re trying to kill our friends.”

“You’re right.” I nodded rapidly.

Someone started shouting in the distance. A few quick bursts of gunfire cut through the silence before something landed on the roof.

There was a short, brutal exchange above us. I half expected the ceiling to collapse. The next person to come by the door was the little blonde Watcher. Only it wasn’t all of her. Her head fell into the doorway and rolled to a stop at Mike’s feet. Something metal glistened in the dim light.

“Oh, fuck. Grenade!” he yelled.

As Mike and I tried to scramble away, Sam picked the head up and threw it in the blink of an eye at a shadow across the yard. My vision was night-adjusted enough to make out a spray of gore where the head smashed into another body. Someone else cursed and then the grenade detonated.

“Picked up the spare,” Mike said with approval obvious in his voice. “How did they get behind us?” He stared out the door, across the driveway for a moment, and then stepped away from the vacant doorway.