by Tanith Frost
Right. And most vampires can’t go as long as I can between meals under stressful conditions like these. Everyone on this team needs to preserve their strength.
Exhausted though he looks, Daniel is back on his feet by the time the others are up, ready to help us plan our night. The sun is setting behind the clouds, and it’s time to get back to work.
I brew a pot of coffee, though it won’t do as much for us as blood would. It would be different if Imogen were here. She’d draw a symbol into the grounds, “reverse-cursing” everyone who drank it—or rather, cursing our weakness, or whatever it is she does. She’s explained it to me, but it’s hard to wrap my head around the idea. All I know is that it’s good, restorative, and magical in a way that has never made me the nervous wreck pure magic turns me into when it gets too strong.
Genevieve places her hands on her hips and stretches, arching her back. “I miss my coffin.”
Boris gives her a sympathetic smile.
“What’s the plan?” Padma asks, leaning on the island in the middle of the big kitchen. “Patrolling seems pointless. We didn’t know about the zombie sighting last night until it came over the radio, and it’s only because of that incident that Aviva was there to hear the other one. What are the odds we’re going to stumble on the rest of them while we’re driving around?”
Daniel cracks his knuckles—an old habit I was sort of hoping he’d shed. He catches my glare and rests his hands on his lap. “You could split up. Take both vehicles out. These things seem to favour shorelines, which are also the more populated areas. Eric and I covered a lot of that terrain today. Two groups could cover more tonight.”
“We need to be more strategic.” Boris slides his mug over the counter from hand to hand, nearly slopping the coffee out with each pass. “There’s got to be some way to track them. If Eric finds—”
The police radio squawks and crackles in one of the duffle bags by the door, and Daniel jogs over to grab it. He crouches, listens, and a frown creases his brow.
“Dead body at the bottom of a cliff near Crow Head, up by the lighthouse.”
We all exchange glances over the table.
“Dead dead?” Padma asks.
“Sounds like it.”
Boris shakes his head. “But that doesn’t rule it out as being one of ours. If one of them took a header off a high cliff onto the rocks, that would be one we can cross off the list. We should check it out.”
Maybe he’s got some brains in him, after all.
We’re all, save for Daniel, halfway into our cold-weather gear when the radio comes to life again. Boris already has it clipped to his belt, and he listens carefully. He doesn’t have to relay the message, though. We all heard, and we’re listening for the details.
Reported assault in Bayview—the opposite direction from the lighthouse. A single assailant, suspected to be on drugs thanks to reported erratic movements and slurred speech, has broken into a home. Residents made it out with just a few minor injuries but can hear noise in the house as if it’s being torn apart. Police en route from Lewisporte to offer backup.
Daniel rises from the table and slips his coat on. “Guess we’re splitting up after all.”
Genevieve crosses her arms. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’m awake anyway.”
“But you’ve been on the go all day. You’re used up.” Genevieve purses her lips and looks us all over. “Daniel, you go deal with the easier one. I’ll take the muscle and the cover-up artist here, and we’ll see whether we can’t get to that house before the police do. We’ll call if we need more help, but you and Aviva should go to the lighthouse to take care of things if that body turns out to be suspicious. No loose ends.”
And with that, she’s paired me and Daniel off without him having to suggest it.
I’ll have to thank her later.
“Keep me updated,” Daniel tells the others as he and I settle into the smaller of our two vehicles, a dark grey Civic that smells faintly of stale cigarettes—apparently someone in the past didn’t care about the penalty for smoking in the rental. Padma gives him a thumbs-up as she climbs into the back seat of the Jeep.
Daniel drives fast enough that I instinctively grip the plastic handle on the car door though I have complete faith in his abilities. He slows slightly at every turn, and the car hugs the curves as if he’s driven them a thousand times. He sits straight but relaxed, alert, ready to react to whatever comes—a different vampire from the one slumped on the couch an hour ago. This is his element: a bit of danger, making use of his mind and body, moving fast and getting shit done.
“You’re not worried about getting pulled over?” I ask as we whip around a corner.
He grins and hits the gas harder before we reach a long, steep hill that takes us past a coffee shop I suspect would serve something far better than what I made back at the house. “The police seem to be occupied elsewhere.”
We leave the town of Crow Head behind us, following a road that offers a spectacular view of the dark ocean on one side, forest on the other. A lump at the side of the road moves, darting into the path of our headlights with liquid grace until it crouches, frozen in our path, unsure of what to do. The car jogs sideways into the other lane, and the dark-coated fox leaps back into the ditch, fluffy tail streaming behind it like a flag.
“Wouldn’t have hurt the car if you’d hit it,” I note, teasing just a little. “You going soft on me?”
“We may be creatures of death and chaos, but adorable woodland creatures aren’t our department.” Daniel glares at me, but there’s no danger in it. “For the record, I wouldn’t have put the car in the ditch to avoid it.”
I’m not sure why the idea of Daniel finding something adorable surprises me, but it does. Maybe it’s because he takes such a practical view on most lesser creatures and only preserves humans because it’s best for us. But then, I guess I’ve known for a while that he has a protective streak.
Especially when it comes to me.
Maybe that’s why I don’t mention the magic here when it suddenly grows stronger. In the seconds before I manage to forcibly block it from my awareness, it’s all I can do not to leap from the moving vehicle in an irrational, blind panic.
We’ve reached the base of the long hill leading up to the lighthouse. At the top, flashing red lights illuminate the cloudy sky with a murky strobe-light effect. Too many people up there, too many questions if we’re spotted. Daniel turns left instead, pulling into a parking lot closer to the base of the cliffs. We take our gear from the trunk—an axe and a mallet, both of which he and Eric bought extras of earlier today—and two sets of binoculars.
Dressed head to toe as we are in black, moving quietly as we do, the odds of anyone noticing our approach seem slim as long as we stay away from lights and voices. We’re careful, though, alert to the possibility that even on a night as cold as this there could be humans anywhere. The hiking trails we’re following down here near the shore are covered in last night’s snow, and we can’t help leaving tracks that could be discovered by police or anyone who comes to recover the body. We’ll be long gone by then, though.
The water is relatively calm tonight, but that doesn’t offer much comfort when there’s always the possibility of rogue waves appearing, and I feel more apprehensive than seems sensible as we pass signs warning of the danger and step out onto the slippery rocks that jut up from the ocean. Daniel pulls his binoculars from inside his coat, crouches, and lifts them to his eyes.
“Damn,” he whispers. “The body must be in that cove. I can’t see anything. What?”
He’s lowered the binoculars and caught me watching him.
“Have I ever told you that your competence is very attractive?”
His lips twitch. “Is it? I’ll try not to abuse that power over you.” He nods back at the cliffs. “Looks like we’re going up.”
I hold back a groan and motion for him to go ahead. It’s not that the climb will be difficult—humans ha
ve built stairs, and most of the path to the top is at least partially sheltered. But it’s a long way up, and even if we’re not going to get winded, the fact is that my legs aren’t used to this much up while carrying a heavy weapon. Still, I’m grateful for how willingly they carry me, and how quickly. And because I’ve let Daniel take the lead, the view isn’t bad.
The parking lot at the top is awash with light, so we stick to the woods as we circle around behind the gift shop and cross the road before approaching the lighthouse from the other side. The ground here is uneven, and we have to pick our way over twisted roots and the ever-present rocks and boulders.
All of this is fine even as we pick up the sound of human voices at the top of the cliff. My heart is trying to climb into my throat, though.
Magic again, too strong to shut out, screaming through me. It’s like what I felt at the rift when I focused my attention on it to try to build my resistance.
It’s just a feeling, I remind myself. A side effect. I won’t let it steal my focus even if I can’t shut it out completely.
It seems all that’s happening up here is a lot of standing around and waiting. Two cops got here ahead of us, and a couple of guys in yellow that I take to be firefighters. This obviously isn’t a rescue at this point, but a recovery, and I suspect they’re waiting for a boat to take care of things down below. Meanwhile, they’re making it impossible for us to get close enough to take a look over the edge.
Daniel’s got his eye on the humans, but my nerves are making me feel like the one being watched. I look to the side, behind me… I’m ready to write it off as further magic-induced paranoia when I catch movement deep in the woods, accompanied by a flash of white.
I grab Daniel’s arm and he turns.
Definitely a human shape. We split up to approach it from two sides, angling ourselves so that if it runs from us it will have to head away from the humans on the cliff.
The thick tree cover, made of spruces twisted and stunted from the poor soil and salt wind, makes it hard to approach quietly. The figure halts, listening, and turns back. A female this time, dressed in a filthy white shirt, her long brown hair tangled in a nest of snarls. Her face, scratched and oozing blood from scratches she must have picked up pushing past sharp branches, twists into a silent scream as she spots me. I brace myself for an attack, but she spots Daniel approaching from her right. Genevieve said there’s no real thought in these creatures, but there’s definitely some kind of instinct or reason. She changes tactics, racing deeper into the woods, breaking branches and stumbling as she throws herself forward.
It shouldn’t be a hard chase, but she’s surprisingly quick. And though she feels pain, she doesn’t seem afraid of injury; she leaps from rocky overhangs and rolls back to her feet, descending into a sheltered dip in the land. I’ve almost caught her when a branch comes whipping back at me. I catch it, and she slips out of reach.
It doesn’t help that my chest feels as if it’s going to explode. I’m not afraid of her. It’s two vampires against one slender little zombie. It’s just… I’m terrified, and it’s almost worse because there’s nothing rational for me to attach it to.
There’s not much I miss about Tempest, but not having to deal with magic was definitely something I should have thought to be grateful for at the time.
The zombie lets out a screech that I hope won’t catch the attention of the nearby humans as she reaches a sheer rock wall and turns to face us.
Daniel and I both have our weapons ready to swing when another zombie appears from the underbrush, limping as if he might have injured his left leg. Then another, approaching from behind. I turn and put my back to Daniel so we’ve got eyes all around, and I count as two more emerge.
It’s not a two-on-one fight. It’s five on two, us against creatures that may be weaker, but that give zero fucks about risk or self-preservation. They approach, moving like a pack though with no apparent communication between them, every one of them ready to risk being torn apart if it means a chance at harming a vampire.
I guess the magic was right, after all. It is a good time to be scared.
12
New vampires train to fight alone—it’s how most of our kind prefer to operate, and it’s the most likely circumstance we’ll find ourselves in if we need to defend ourselves. Daniel was thinking ahead with Trixie and me, though, training us as though we’d someday become rogue hunters, working on a team like his (and probably, at the time, hoping we’d end up on someone else’s). Trixie and I learned not only to defend ourselves from multiple attackers solo, keeping our attention on all of them at once, but also to work together to maximize our efficiency.
It’s training that serves me well as the zombies rush at us, several of them armed with heavy branches, one hanging back to throw rocks at us from a distance. He’s not great with his aim and doesn’t seem to mind hitting his companions as often as he hits us, but it makes for an additional distraction we don’t need.
There’s no room to swing my axe overhead, so I jab the knob of the handle into the gut of the first zombie that reaches me. They don’t need breath any more than we do, so the shot to the diaphragm doesn’t wind her, but it obviously hurts. She stumbles back, and I swing the end of the axe around and catch another one in the arm. I can’t see what Daniel’s doing behind me, but I feel his energy and the increasing distance between us as we begin to separate our assailants.
A heavy-set male zombie tries to get between us and grab Daniel from behind. I kick another in the stomach, sending her to the ground, and spin, lifting the axe overhead in the space I’ve just won for myself and, swinging hard, cleave the zombie’s skull in two. He falls to the ground, twitching, the blade stuck deep in brain and bone.
As I tug with both hands to get it out, Daniel moves past me and brings his mallet down on another one that would have taken advantage of my momentary exposure. She sees him coming and lurches sideways, but Daniel catches the missed downward swing and brings the heavy weapon around without losing momentum. The zombie’s face seems to explode under the force of the blow, but she still fights until he hits her farther back on her skull.
White stars shoot across my field of vision, and the rock that hit me in the side of the head falls at my feet. The pain makes for a nice distraction from magic, redirecting any focus I might have been at risk of losing to panic. My powers have risen protectively, and I draw on them in every way I know how, holding nothing back as I lose myself in the fight, letting my speed, strength, and instinct guide me. I immobilize a zombie with a blow that severs its spinal cord between the shoulder blades before running at the rock-thrower and tackling him to the ground, smashing the back of his head against a sharp boulder and leaving him dazed for long enough that my axe can carve its way into his cerebrum, leaving him heaving spastically on the ground.
By the time I turn back, Daniel’s finished off the one I immobilized. Our numbers are even now, but the last two are better fighters than their slower companions, and they seem enraged by the injuries they’ve taken. They both attack Daniel, and I don’t dare take a swing when I’ll risk hitting him instead of one of them. I run at them and shove one away, breaking the fight in two.
Male zombie. He looks healthy, relatively speaking—not one I’ve encountered before. He swings the branch in his hand like a club. I duck, letting his momentum throw him off balance, standing and bringing the axe down before he can recover, cutting into the back of his head.
Daniel’s got the other one pinned to the ground under one foot. She lets out a hoarse scream and scratches at his legs until he brings the mallet down in a motion that’s more like a stab than a swing, caving in her forehead.
He looks around, doing the same mental math I’m working on. Six here. Maybe one at the base of the cliff. Four last night. Probably another being dealt with in Bayview.
I’m about to say that we’re one short for Twillingate when a scream rings out from somewhere deep in the trees. We crouch, ready to fight again, as
another zombie stumbles closer. His steps slow as he sees us and takes in the sight of the bodies at our feet.
“Mine,” Daniel whispers, adjusting his grip on the blood-slick handle of his weapon.
The zombie turns to stumble away, then pauses. In fact, all three of us freeze at the crashing sounds coming toward us through the trees. It’s not another zombie. Too big to be a vampire, too. A rumbling growl fills the air, loud and low enough that I feel it in my bones.
Reluctant though I am to open myself further to outside powers, I let myself catch a hint of what might be coming. “Oh, holy f—”
My words are drowned out by the crash of a falling tree, accompanied by the appearance of a massive, scaled head and flashing teeth.
Daniel looks ready to shit himself, and though this is familiar territory for me, I can’t say I’m far behind him on that front. It’s never not going to be terrifying to meet an angry dragon in the woods on a dark night.
Glowing violet eyes take in the scene, narrowing as they catch sight of me. The horned head comes down, carried by the serpentine neck in a snakelike strike. Teeth tear into flesh, severing the zombie cleanly in half before the top portion disappears.
The beast turns to Daniel with narrowed eyes and flashes his gore-stained teeth.
“Taggryn, no!” I call out. “He’s a friend.”
Taggryn—the dragon I thought lost to us when he was forced to return to his own world—snorts, sending a puff of smoke into the air. He seems about to say something but stops himself. His eyes widen in panic. “It still moves.”
I glance at the lower torso and legs lying on the ground, immobile. “What do you—”
Taggryn bares his teeth and steps into the clearing, giving himself room to move as he arches his back, wings held high in the air. Daniel and I back away quickly and watch as Taggryn’s muscles contract under his shining scales, bunching and releasing as retching sounds rise from his throat. He digs his claws into the ground and heaves.