The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1)
Page 72
That’s where he was, I decided. Close to the campaign but shielded by the intervening skyscrapers.
I cupped my hands to the sides of my mouth. “Arnaud!”
The vampire discerned my voice amid the chaos and looked up. His mount reared as he swung it toward me, hacking and trampling a swath from the battle. I met him at the bottom of the steps. He was covered in gore, his mane of hair soaked in blood. Aiming a mace, I blasted back a pair of wolves that had broken from the battle to pursue him.
“You’ve found something?” Arnaud asked.
“There’s a tent at the southern end of City Hall Park,” I panted. “Captain Cole is inside, coordinating the assault. He’s the one controlling the wolves.”
Arnaud’s eyes sharpened in understanding. But as he activated his earpiece, I thought about the police officers and technicians who would also be in the tent. And if Vega had ended up there for any reason…
“Wait!” I said. “No mass casualties. Have a sniper take him out.”
Arnaud nodded and gave the order. His blood-bathed horse snorted, eager to rejoin the battle. I looked past Arnaud in time to see the Undertaker and his mount falling. The aging vampire’s wailing cries rose above the snarls and barks of the wolves diving down to tear into him.
With the Undertaker’s final moan, his blood slaves regained their mortality and stopped fighting. The ones he’d turned centuries before shriveled and broke apart. The younger ones aged, some crooking into the shapes of old men, others staring around in shock, wondering what kind of nightmare they had awakened to. The wolves showed no mercy.
Arnaud’s remaining slaves continued to battle fiercely, but the force had been halved. A mass of wolves, more than a hundred strong, turned toward us. Arnaud’s mount grunted and stamped the bricks at its feet. I squeezed the leather-bound grips of my maces.
“Stay behind me,” Arnaud said, raising his sword.
The wolves’ grizzly snouts peeled from their fanged teeth.
I threw up a shield invocation, knowing it would only buy us a few minutes. There were too damned many. They charged en masse—then stuttered to a stop. Muzzles lifted to the scents of death and carnage, then began to sniff one another, growls rippling in their chests.
“It seems you were right,” Arnaud said. “I just received word the captain was taken out. An inter-pack alliance on this scale is unnatural. I suspect we’re about to see it unravel.”
A savage bark sounded, and a wolf seized another by the throat. More barks erupted as wolves from rival packs clashed, claws and teeth ripping into one another.
“Encircle them!” Arnaud called to the surviving blood slaves.
The slaves complied, several limping into position on mangled legs. The battle among the wolves was as brutal as it was quick. As maimed wolves attempted to escape their attackers, the blood slaves drove silver weapons into them. This went on until the final wolf was slain.
I relaxed my tensed arms as my gaze ranged over the slaughter. At the edge of the park, the Undertaker’s mount had been dismembered, the Undertaker no doubt somewhere among the remains.
“Poor Luther,” Arnaud said without a trace of sympathy. “It seems the rest of us will have to divide his assets.” He looked down at me. “Well done, Mr. Croft. The assault on the Wall has disintegrated as well, I’m told.”
“So … what now?” I asked.
“We return to my offices and await the mayor’s call.”
“It’s over?”
“Listen. Do you hear that?”
I stopped breathing and immediately understood what he meant. No shooting. No explosions. No shouts, snarls, or death cries. A deep, snowy silence had descended over lower Manhattan.
“It’s the sound of success,” he said, grinning. “Come, let us negotiate the terms of our future. Swiftly now.”
Arnaud extended an arm toward me.
Ready for the alliance to end, I clasped his blood-caked hand and straddled the mount.
“Let’s go,” I said.
28
Trailed by the remaining blood slaves in Arnaud’s battalion, we rode back to Wall Street. Fires burned here and there. Chunks of building littered several of the streets. But except for the crackling of the horse’s hooves over glass, the downtown remained eerily silent.
We turned a corner and came up on Federal Hall, with its pillared façade and bronze statue of George Washington. Blood slaves and private security forces still ringed the building. A handful of carcasses lay across the street—bullet-riddled wolves reverted to their human forms—telling me the bulk of their attack had not penetrated the core of the Financial District.
“Anything?” Arnaud called up.
Several of the security forces stared back with shield sunglasses and shook their heads.
It looked as though the fae had stayed out of this one, which was not overly surprising. When it came to human affairs, their M.O. was to operate just out of sight, advising here, injecting money there. And they tended not to use magic unless threatened. The anxiety that Caroline and I might become actual adversaries let out a little. I exhaled a shaky breath as two more depleted slave battalions appeared, both led by vampires on horseback.
Arnaud trotted up to the closer group. “I understand we lost two defending the Wall.”
The mounted vampire, who was too battle spattered for me to recognize, nodded. “Francis went down near the West Side Highway,” he said. “Gordon was impaled on Maiden Lane.”
“Victory always comes at a cost.” Arnaud said.
The vampire farther back galloped forward. “Why stop here?” he demanded, eyes blazing inside his helmet. I recognized the young vampire, Damien, by his voice. “There remains a city to conquer!”
Arnaud looked as though he was going to respond, no doubt to talk him down, but he canted his head suddenly. I followed the vampire’s gaze toward Federal Hall, where the security forces had fallen into crouches, automatic weapons aimed at the building. And then I heard it too—a dull, concussive sound, like something trying to pound its way out of a giant tomb.
The horses grunted and drew back.
“What’s going on?” I asked, peering around.
The blood slaves looked jittery, eyes fixed on the building. A deep snap sounded, and then another. A member of the private security team emerged from beyond the pillars. “The slabs are fracturing,” he barked. “Whatever’s coming up is moving ten tons of reinforced concrete.”
Coming up? The fae were sending something through the portal?
“Hold your positions!” Arnaud said severely, but I caught an odd strain in his voice. When his horse shuffled back another foot, Arnaud cracked its head with the pommel of his sword. “You too, cursed beast.”
Arnaud must have had the portal sealed, but all manner of powerful beings dwelt in the faerie realm. Another pair of snaps sounded, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy stone grating against heavy stone. From inside Federal Hall gunfire exploded. Other automatic weapons joined in. A man’s scream rose above the noise and was just as suddenly strangled.
Anxiety sawed on my insides as I flipped through a mental reference of fae creatures.
Arnaud’s men backed out between the pillars, guns cracking. A giant shadow pursued them. It wasn’t until the shadow ducked beneath the pediment and rose to its full height that I recognized the iron-haired monstrosity.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered.
“Does this present a problem, Mr. Croft?” Arnaud asked, holding his slaves back.
“A mountain troll?” I let out a harsh laugh. “Only if you expect to kill it.”
I glimpsed the troll’s volcanic gray face before he hefted an arm to keep the gunfire from his recessed eyes. With a grunt, he seized George Washington’s upper body. Stone erupted from the foundation as the ten-foot-tall statue broke free. The troll wielded it overhead like a club, then swung it in a fierce arc, taking out two of the gunmen.
“Attack!” Arnaud called to his slaves.
For the first time, I noticed the way the air warped around the troll.
“It gets better,” I shouted. “The troll’s wrapped in some kind of enchantment, probably put there by the fae.” An enchantment that torched the undead, apparently.
Leaving the blood slaves to burn, the troll bounded down the steps with surprising speed, swinging the statue again. More gunmen went airborne, their bodies broken. The rest retreated around the corners of buildings. The troll puffed his cheeks. When he blew out, the fae aura bent with the force of the gust, igniting a swath of blood slaves ahead of him.
For the first time, Arnaud walked his horse back. I followed the angle of his head to where two more mountain trolls were emerging from Federal Hall, their stony bodies glimmering inside the fae enchantment.
“Wonderful,” I muttered.
The trolls assessed the scene and split up, running after the blood slaves like they were chasing mice.
Damien, the young vampire, had seen enough. With a cry, he dug the metal spikes on his boots into his mount and charged. The statue-wielding troll turned toward the piercing sound and roared, revealing a set of tombstone teeth. Damien evaded his downward swing, the statue busting into the street behind him. He charged past the troll and sliced his sword at the tendinous pocket behind the monster’s knee. The blade fractured into pieces. When Damien brought the horse around, I could see flames licking out from beneath his right gauntlet.
Damien’s eyes burned red as he let out a furious scream. The troll lunged toward him.
“Vigore!” I shouted, aiming one of my maces. But the force that rippled through the air dissipated upon reaching the troll’s enchanted protection. I thrust forth the other mace. “Protezione!”
The shield that manifested over Damien burst apart beneath the troll’s descending fist. Damien’s scream was severed as the blow crushed his head and battered him and his mount against the blacktop. Both broke into flames. The horse’s legs kicked for several beats before falling still.
“My magic’s no good!” I said. “And unless you have cold iron…” But Arnaud was already moving us away.
“Retreat!” he called, charging toward his building.
The wall we had emerged from earlier remained down. Our footfalls stampeded up the ramp and into the armory, a handful of gunmen at our backs blowing cover fire. I doubted it would do much against mountain troll hide. The bulk of us inside, the wall jerked from the ramp and embarked on a clanking rise as the chains retracted, pulling the wall back into place. Outside, the trolls ran toward us, their horny toenails gouging up chunks of asphalt.
“Quickly!” Arnaud called.
One of the trolls seized a gunman who’d been left behind. I looked away, but not before he’d pushed the gunman into his chomping mouth. The statue-wielding troll brought George Washington down on a crippled blood slave, crushing him. He then swung the statue around, caving in the corner of a building across the street. The third troll broke into the lead and charged. The wall slammed closed ahead of his outstretched fingers.
A moment later, the armory shuddered around us. Weapons fell from shelves. The trolls were attacking the outside of the building. Blast-resistant stonework or not, the mountain trolls would eventually get inside or bring the entire building down on our heads.
Arnaud dismounted and helped me down. A pair of blood slaves led the torn and bloodied beast away. The other slaves traded their silver blades for ones forged from iron. Arnaud stared around for a moment. When his eyes locked on the other vampire’s, I caught something I’d never observed in their kind before. Uncertainty. That uncertainty was also manifesting in their blood slaves, who, though freshly armed, backed from the shaking walls.
“Come, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud snapped.
I followed him to the vault-like door I’d observed earlier. His contingency plan. Trepidation shook through me as he seized the hand wheel. The round door released from the wall with a dull bang and swung outward. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the tomb-like chamber.
What the…?
I had been expecting a creature of some kind. Instead, I was looking at an ornate casting circle painted on the floor in what looked like blood and bone dust. Dark candles stood at the points of the circle’s star-shaped pattern. I raised my gaze to an altar above the circle. It featured an old iron chest about the size of a cinderblock, thick candles bracketing it. When I leaned toward the claustrophobic space, I picked up the stink of rancid blood.
Arnaud placed a chilly hand on my back. “I believe you’ll find everything you need.”
“Everything I need for what?”
The armory shook again, this time toppling several of the racks of weapons. Arnaud removed his helmet and shook out his hair. He looked as if he was wearing a grotesque mask, the dried blood thick over his jaw and around his eyes but absent from the rest of his pale face.
“I don’t need to spell out our situation,” he said when the noise settled. “I underestimated our opponents, or at least the lengths they were prepared to go. They have already decimated half our ranks. They mean to finish the job. Our only recourse now is the Scaig Box.”
I studied the trunk on the altar. “Scaig Box?”
A cold force seemed to emanate from the word, like fingernails dragging across stone.
Outside, the pounding continued. A giant crack appeared in the drawbridge-like wall.
“Listen to me, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud said quickly. “The box holds an ancient being, a precursor to vampirekind. We will use the being to destroy the trolls, then order it back into its hold.”
I jerked away, understanding what he wanted. “Are you fucking insane? No, I’m not calling forth any ancient being. I’m forbidden for one, and for another … That thing’s related to you? Yeah, no.”
“You’re bound by the Pact.” Arnaud’s eyes burned into mine.
“To aid you in battle, not unleash some ancient evil on the world.”
“I know how summonings work,” he pressed. “The circle I’ve prepared is extraordinarily powerful. The being will remain under your control. You can test the circle for yourself.”
The armory shuddered again, rubble falling from a fresh proliferation of cracks. The image of the troll shoving the gunman into his mouth flashed through my mind.
I eyed the casting circle. Though it had elements that looked vaguely Sumerian, the pattern wasn’t one I’d seen before. With a flick of my mace, I cast an ounce of energy toward it. The circle gobbled it up. A moment later, the pattern began to pulse like a heart, amplifying the energy several fold. Alright, so it passed the power test. But what in the hell would I be calling forth?
I raised my eyes to the iron trunk. It sat on its dark altar perch as though biding its time.
This had disaster written all over it.
“I hear more of them out there,” Arnaud said above the thundering blows.
My heart slammed in my chest. It was only a matter of time, I got it. But summonings never worked out for me, from my first experience with Thelonious to nearly succumbing to a gatekeeper a few weeks ago. And then there was Chicory’s warning—not only about the penalty for summoning, but why the Order forbade the practice. I could be opening a fissure…
To the Whisperer, I thought, the being who nearly destroyed the Elders.
“I can’t do it,” I said.
“Can’t or won’t?” Arnaud asked.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not happening.”
“What about your mother?” he asked, his narrow tongue spearing the word.
I stiffened. “What about her?”
“Well, if I understood your grandfather correctly, she was slaughtered like a little lamb. If you fall today, who’s left to avenge her death?” Though he spoke softly, almost teasingly, I could smell his musk, co
uld feel my already-racing pulse kicking into a higher gear. He was inciting my anger.
“They’ve won,” I said.
Arnaud stared at me. “I don’t believe I heard you.”
“There are creatures out there we can’t kill,” I said, “and a being in that box that might be even worse. Our best option is to contact City Hall, have the fae call off the trolls, and then see if we have any chips left to bargain with. If nothing else, it buys us time.”
My mind made up, I turned toward the elevator.
“Oh, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud said. “I did hope it wouldn’t come to this.”
I was still processing his words when he swooped in behind me and seized my wrists. The talons of his thumbs pierced the network of tendons below my palms, and my hands jerked open, dropping the maces.
Fear and anger spiked hot inside me. He was attacking me in violation of the Pact!
I twisted my right fist around until the ring was aimed at him. “Balaur!” I shouted.
The cold metal remained inert.
“You poor fool,” he hissed in my ear. “Do you think I would hand you a loaded weapon? The design is identical, yes, and there are magnetic elements that might feel like power, but the ring is a worthless copy. Now,” he said, steering me back toward the vault, “I believe we have a summoning to perform.”
The son of a bitch had tricked me.
Furious, I snapped my head back to smash his face, but he was too quick. Far, far too quick. Cold breath brushed my exposed throat an instant before his spiny teeth plunged in.
29
My eyes shot wide.
He’s doing it. He’s actually biting me.
In an instant, the piercing pain was replaced by a warmth that flooded my system, relaxing everything. It was like slipping into the warmest, most lavish bath. Though my mind struggled, my body relaxed into Arnaud’s embrace, his high-pitched suckling. I couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t dam the endorphins dumping into my bloodstream. And that was the worst part. Despite the horror of what he was doing, my brain was flashing pleasure signals.