“Welcome to Earth. Oh, there are cliques and groups and snobs and racists and xenophobes here, but you know what? The world is so diverse. There are many different kinds of people. You might fit in better here. Just don’t be too surprised by the technology.”
“Lord Cernunnos warned me about that. He didn’t want me to be frightened. I’m actually looking forward to seeing some of your inventions. I like making things—I enjoy stretching my mind.” Her eyes were glowing. Neallanthra’s hair was caught back in a long braid. It was golden brown and her eyes were hazel, and she had that spark in them that indicated a quick mind and intelligence.
We came out of the park then, and Herne opened the gate that led to his yard, which buttressed up against Carkeek Park. Unkai and Neallanthra froze, looking around at the house and the car beyond. Unkai rubbed his temples.
“The noise—is it always this loud?”
I realized he was hearing the sounds of traffic, including the jets flying overhead. “Yes, most of the time it’s this loud, at least in the city. When you get out in the country, it’s not nearly as bad.”
Herne motioned for us to follow him. “Come, let’s break for a snack at my home, then we can drive you over to TirNaNog, where you can begin your new life.”
And with that, we headed into his house to eat, and then to head over to meet Saílle.
Chapter Twenty-One
We had barely stepped up to the gates of TirNaNog when Saílle’s guards swept Unkai and Neallanthra out of sight with a terse thank-you. I had been hoping to see more of Unkai, but he needed to stay with Neallanthra, at least until she and my uncle were married.
Herne glanced at me as we headed back over the floating bridge. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, though I wish Saílle could just keep her nose out of my business.”
I was pissed. Saílle had disrupted Neallanthra’s entire life, co-opting her as though she might grab a tool away from someone else. Except that Neallanthra was a woman, not a tool, and my uncle was a man, not a pawn.
“Well, get used to it. I have the feeling that until the wedding, Saílle will be doing everything she can to incur your favor or take you out. She’s going on the premise that if you favor her, you’ll align against Névé.”
“A very black and white view of the universe.” I sighed, resting my head against the headrest. “Listen, what—” I paused as my phone rang. “Viktor,” I said, glancing at it. “Hello?”
“Ember, are you and Herne free yet? An emergency’s come up.”
“What’s going on?” I put him on speaker so Herne could hear. “Viktor.”
“What’s up, man?” Herne said, keeping his eyes on the road as we navigated back to the office. Traffic was heavy. It was noon and everybody was out and about, looking to eat lunch and run errands.
“How soon can you get down to Whitemoor Nursing Home? It’s in the Beacon Hill District, near the White Lodge Cemetery on Orcas Street.” He sounded tense and I could hear shouting behind him.
“What’s going on? We’re probably fifteen minutes out, if we take the backroads,” Herne said, veering off to the left onto a side street.
“Yutani and I are here. We’ve got more vrykos and they’re trying to get into the nursing home. They’ve already killed two nurses and one cop. The cops are here and Yutani and I are trying to help them contain the creatures, but this is bad, Herne. The energy feels bad—like something big is on the way.”
“We need our weapons—” Herne started to say, but Viktor cut him off.
“Already have them. I brought them in case you’d be back in time.” Viktor shouted something and then said, “I have to go. Yutani’s fighting one and it’s getting the upper hand.” He signed off abruptly as I cringed.
“Pull up the news. I know where we’re going so I don’t need you to navigate,” Herne said, a grim look on his face.
I brought up a news station on my phone and turned up the volume of their live stream.
“We’re down in the Beacon Hill District, where another group of vrykos are attacking a nursing home. It’s believed they came out of the White Lodge Cemetery. Police are attempting to contain them, but the creatures have broken through a number of barriers already and some have vanished into the surrounding neighborhoods. Emergency calls are coming in from people who have been attacked. For now, there’s no estimate on the number of victims. We do have verified reports of three deaths so far—two nurses and one police officer were confirmed dead. They were attempting to prevent the vrykos from entering the nursing home.”
The reporter was blond and ditzy looking, but the alarm on her face had replaced the plastic everything-is-just-fine glow that a lot of newscasters wore nowadays, and she looked genuinely frightened. The footage cut to a clip from outside the nursing home.
“Those poor residents—they’ll never be able to get away. Not if they’re bed-bound.” I watched in horror as one of the vrykos reappeared, dragging a screaming woman by her wrist. The woman was elderly, and she struggled but couldn’t free herself. Right in front of the camera, the vrykos bent over and took a big bite out of her cheek, and the fucking camera operator kept filming. The woman barely made a sound, and I prayed she had either died of a heart attack, or had fainted so she wouldn’t have to feel the pain.
“Oh my gods, Herne, step on it. This is bad,” I said, looking over at him. “We need the militias—I know they aren’t ready but—”
“There’s nothing we can do regarding that right now. The time it would take to mobilize them would be too long. But…call Kipa and tell him to get his ass over here, and tell him to bring members of his SuVahta. They can fight.”
I punched in Kipa’s number and he answered on the first ring. I ran down what was happening. “Hurry. We need you.”
“I’m already in the city. I’ll be there with my guard in ten minutes.” He hung up abruptly.
“He’s on his way. He said ten minutes.” I glanced around as Herne pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home. The cemetery was next door, and it occurred to me that it was a grim reminder to the residents of their stage in life.
We tumbled out of the car and I spotted Viktor over by what looked like a higher-ranking officer. “Viktor!” I shouted, and he looked up. Immediately upon spotting me, he spoke to the police officer, then jogged over to our car, where we were waiting.
“What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know, but a call came in about twenty minutes ago. Yutani and I came down to check it out and found all this. Here are your weapons.” He handed me Brighid’s Flame, which I had left at the office, and he handed Herne a double-bladed axe. “They’ve managed to break into the nursing home. I don’t think we’ll find many survivors.”
“I pray you’re wrong. Let’s go.” Herne shouldered his axe and headed toward the building. Grateful I had thought to wear jeans and a sturdy top, I shrugged on my leather jacket and followed them into the building.
The Whitemoor Nursing Home was a single-story building, sprawling three wings wide. Buttressed against the White Lodge Cemetery, the nursing home had that weathered feel that most homes for the elderly do. It was almost as though because their residents were fading, the walls and atmosphere around them shifted to match. Any beauty the home might have had was only a whisper—a memory long past.
The walls were painted two-toned, a pale rose on the top two-thirds of the walls, and the wainscoting was thyme green, but the colors hadn’t been refreshed in a long time. There were cracks here and there, with water damage on the ceiling.
I brought my attention back to the screams that filled the halls. Even from where we were at the entrance, we could see one of the vrykos gnawing on an older gentleman, who was groaning and trying to pull away.
Herne took one look and went in swinging, bringing his axe around to neatly cleave the top half of the vrykos away from its lower half. The torso fell, and the creature tried to pull itself back toward its prey using its hands, teeth still gnashi
ng. Once again, Herne brought the axe down, cleaving the torso in half, splitting it directly down the center from the top of the skull. The two halves of the vrykos fell apart and I averted my eyes from the resulting splattered gore.
I motioned for Herne to go past me while I knelt to examine the victim. He was still breathing, but he was pale and clammy and had obviously gone into shock.
Glancing around for someone who could carry him to the medics, I saw a man running toward me. He was in a long brown leather duster, and his hair was the color of copper, swirling down his back. I didn’t recognize him, but maybe he was one of Kipa’s guards.
“Over here, we need to get this man out to the medics,” I called to him.
He stared at me for a moment, then with a grim smile, headed my way. I stood to meet him and as he neared me, I saw Kipa running up behind him, his axe held high.
“Ember, get away! That’s Gyell!” Kipa swung the axe as the man turned and right then I saw a blaze of light in the man’s eyes that told me he was no ordinary man. He lashed out with one hand and a whip formed, an orange bolt of energy that coiled out from his palm. He caught hold of Kipa’s axe with it, the tongue of fire coiling around the hilt, and yanked it out of the Wolf Lord’s hand.
Kipa let out a loud curse. He raced forward, six massive wolves appearing to flank his sides. They tumbled out of a cloud of mist and snow, and were hot on his heels as they charged toward the shadow dragon.
Gyell’s attention was on them, so I began to drag the old man out of the way, keeping my eyes on the dragon shifter at all times. At that moment, Viktor came running up.
“Herne said—”
“It’s Gyell!” I pointed toward the dragon. “Be careful!”
Gyell jerked around at the sound of my voice. Once again, he raced toward me, eyes flickering with an unearthly light. I stumbled back, trying to get out of his way. I knew that even with Brighid’s Flame, I couldn’t take him on. I didn’t have the strength. Kipa shouted something and lengthened his strides, but then the dragon was looming over me. He reached out to grab my wrist and I feinted right, then dropped to the left, trying to get out of the way.
Viktor broad-jumped over me, landing between me and the dragon, swinging his hammer as he landed. The hammer slammed into Gyell’s side and the dragon let out a roar. He was taller than Viktor, at least seven feet tall, and he shot out another whip of energy, this time coiling around Viktor’s arm. Viktor shouted as the energy constricted around his arm like a snake, and he dropped his hammer. Gyell yanked him close, grabbing hold of the half-ogre.
I had to help him. I brought Brighid’s Flame up, snarling as I slashed at Gyell’s back. But I missed, and I stumbled forward, unbalanced by the weight of my sword.
“Help him!” I turned to see Kipa closing in on the pair.
“I’m on it,” Kipa said, leaping to close the distance between them. But at that moment, Gyell said something in a language I couldn’t understand, and both he and Viktor vanished, disappearing as Kipa frantically grabbed for the dragon’s coat.
I stared at the empty hallway. Where had they gone? What the hell had just happened? But Kipa gave me no time to think.
“We have to help the residents,” he said, grabbing my hand.
“What about Viktor?” I glanced back over my shoulder as Kipa stopped to scoop up his axe from where Gyell had tossed it.
“There’s nothing we can do for him right now. But we can save some of the patients if we get the fuck in there and stop these creatures.” With that, he kicked open the nearest door and we headed in, leaving Viktor to whatever fate had befallen him.
The vrykos were swarming, all right. I had never seen so many undead in one place, save for the vampires. Kipa’s wolves shifted form into their human nature, or more-than-human nature. They were sturdy and muscled and armed to the teeth, and they began slashing their way through the mayhem.
Kipa pushed me toward the nearest room. “Check the patients. If they’re safe, lock them in their rooms unless the windows look vulnerable.”
“What about Viktor?”
He hesitated. “We’ll find Viktor as soon as we can, but we have to take care of this mess first.”
I nodded, realizing he was right, and turned toward the first door as he raced down the hall to join his men. From up ahead, around the corner, I could hear Herne shouting.
Opening the door, I peeked in. An older woman was in bed, and she looked scared spitless. She pulled her covers up to her chin, her eyes wide. A glance at the windows told me they were intact and they weren’t low enough to easily crawl through.
“Stay here. We’ll be back for you.” I turned to the door but found no way to lock it. Hell, had the nursing home disabled all the locks? What the hell was I going to use to keep the door closed? I cast my gaze around the room, looking for anything that might help.
“What do you need?” the woman asked, slowly lowering the covers.
“I need you to lock yourself in here.” I saw a hard-backed chair in the corner by a small desk. “Are you able to stand?”
She nodded. “What should I do?” She slowly got out of bed, and while she was older and looked frail, she seemed able to walk toward me.
I grabbed the chair and carried it over to the door. “The minute I leave, you prop this chair under the doorknob. Don’t let anybody in. If you hear someone jiggling the knob, don’t say a word unless they call out to you and identify themselves. Your life could depend on it.” I held her gaze, hoping she would follow through.
“All right, dear. I’ll do that.” The woman waited by the door until I slipped outside. I listened and, sure enough, I heard her fitting the chair under the door.
“Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll test it,” I called through the door.
I heard a faint “Ready,” and gave the door a try. Sure enough, it wouldn’t open. I wasn’t sure if it would hold against the vrykos, but it was the best I could manage. I couldn’t take her with me because she couldn’t move fast enough, and I couldn’t protect her and fight off the vrykos at the same time.
“All right. We’ll be back for you. If anything tries to break through, hide in the closet or bathroom or under the bed and do your best to keep out of sight.” I took off for the next room. The door was open there, and I peeked in, to see a very dead vrykos—apparently Kipa or one of his guards had gotten to it and chopped it into pieces—but also, a very dead patient.
I moved on to the next room. There, I found another patient, but he was nonresponsive and there was no way that he could help me the way the woman had. I grabbed a blanket and wedged it beneath the door as I left. It might give the vrykos some trouble in getting the door open, and if I could even frustrate them enough to move onto the next room, that was good enough.
Three more rooms, three patients either bedridden or nonresponsive, and three haphazard attempts to jam their doors shut later, I turned the bend at the end of the hall. I could hear a clash from up ahead, and I raced along the hallway, turning left into what appeared to be a cafeteria. There, the vrykos were fighting Kipa, Herne, Yutani, and Kipa’s guards.
I looked around, spotting one of the creatures who was shuffling toward the door. I went in swinging, going full force on the offensive. I brought my blade around at neck length, aiming for the vrykos’s throat, and Brighid’s Flame sliced right through, decapitating it as the blade met flesh. The head fell to the side, but the body kept moving so I took another swing, this time from top to bottom, bringing the sword down on the headless neck. My blade cleaved through part of the torso before lodging right above the pelvis. I stepped back, pulling hard to free the sword. A moment later, it came loose and I fell backward, tripping and landing on my ass.
The vrykos was still trying to move, lurching around like some hideous monster out of a horror movie. I stared at it, panting, as the world seemed to slip into some surreal haze. My water magic wouldn’t do any good, and there was nothing I could do except keep slicing and dicing my way thro
ugh the tangle of undead.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling a rush of rage and futility. As the anger rose, it blotted out my thoughts, and the next moment, I found myself hacking away at the vrykos, frantically chopping it into bits. I was crying, furious that the only thing I could do to save people was to play the part of a woodchipper on legs.
Everything melded into that angry blur, the rage swelling into neon white, exploding as I took on another opponent and yet another. Everything stopped except the endless swinging of my blade, the crunch of bones, the smell of blood from the victims, and long-dead gasses from the vrykos being released. Everywhere the floor and walls were slick with brain matter and bodily juices and the odd thing that kept playing through my mind was there was no blood from these creatures, no sign that they had ever been human except their distorted shapes.
Some of the vrykos were newly dead, and they were the worst. When we cleaved into their flesh, the sounds that they made were hideous, a slurping, slithering noise. The older bodies were desiccated, a few almost mummified, paper-thin skin clinging to the bone.
But after a time, the room fell still and I lowered my blade so the tip was resting on the floor. We were standing in a house of horrors. The remains of the vrykos were scattered everywhere and we were all covered with bits and pieces of muscle and gristle.
My stomach lurched and I turned to the side, vomiting.
A putrid smell hung heavy in the air, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I stumbled for the door leading into the hall and once there, leaned against the wall, barely able to hold myself up. I was exhausted, yes, but more than that, the fight had left me feeling like death warmed over. I looked down at Brighid’s Flame. Her blade was covered in gray matter, and slowly, I sank to squat on my heels, still leaning against the wall, as I waited for the others to emerge.
Herne was the first to come out, followed by Kipa and then his men and Yutani. Herne looked around. “Where’s Viktor?”
Autumn's Bane: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 13 Page 22