The corridor looked like a scene from a muted action movie. A fresh hole gaped in the ceiling. Clouds of white dust hung in the air and settled on everything, including Verchiel. He stood before the heap of debris, his sword drawn and his body tensed for attack.
Someone wearing grimy coveralls dropped through the hole. Around his waist was a belt of pale yellow bricks in varying sizes, wrapped in electrical tape. It was Jorge.
Three more vampires landed behind him. In the back was Traven, his long hair pulled into a ponytail and his usually extravagant costume replaced by clothing suited for battle. He carried a wooden crossbow that was conspicuously empty, though a handful of aluminum bolts were in the quiver on his back. In front of him were two vampires that Katelina recognized as part of his coven.
Verchiel’s dark eyes snapped from one potential foe to the other, sizing them up. He sprang at the one on the right. The vampire tried to leap aside, but Verchiel crashed into him and sent him sprawling backwards. With a swipe of his sword, he severed the vampire’s head. Then it seemed as if he dematerialized and reappeared in front of Traven’s other vampire. This one was almost as fast as he was, and side stepped him.
Verchiel was surprised. Traven used the moment of distraction to shout something to Jorge that Katelina couldn’t hear. As if obeying, the Guatemalan tugged a small brick from his belt. Taped to it was something that looked like a battery with a wire coming off of it, and a silver box with a button. Katelina realized what they were: the shaped charges he’d been making in the basement.
Verchiel and the other vampire fought, though Verchiel was the only one with a weapon. His foe seemed content to dodge attacks rather than taking the offensive.
Jorge moved to plant the explosive. Verchiel spun and grabbed him by the back of his coveralls. The Guatemalan struggled and looked to his companions. Instead of helping him, Traven pulled the belt of explosives off of him and left him to Verchiel.
The Executioner threw the terrified Guatemalan away and made to attack Traven, but the too-fast vampire tackled him to the floor. As they grappled, two familiar figures dropped through the hole.
Micah and Loren were covered in fine white dust, like ghouls in a stage play. The bald vampire gripped a dirty crowbar. Blood was smattered on his face and shirt. Loren lugged a sawn off shotgun. Shells tumbled out of his hoodie pocket to land unheeded at his feet.
Traven yelled something that Katelina couldn’t hear over her ringing ears. He gestured wildly at the newcomers and, as if following an order, Loren leveled the gun towards Verchiel and pulled the trigger. The sound filtered through, like firecrackers enveloped in cotton. She thought she yelled something, but it was needless. The shot missed its target and blasted a hole in the wall. Loren aimed again, his eyes squinted and his tongue between his lips in concentration.
Verchiel glanced to the newcomers and flung his attacker in front of him. As Loren pulled the trigger, Traven knocked into him and the shot slammed into the ceiling. Micah snarled and shoved Traven back. For a moment it looked like a fight would break out, then Loren dismissed it and Micah relented.
Verchiel’s attacker was back on him. He knocked his sword from his hand and slammed him into the wall. Verchiel pushed back, his fangs flashing.
Traven discarded his empty crossbow and jerked a small yellow brick from the belt of explosives. He pulled the remote off and shoved the cube into Loren’s hand. The teen looked from it to Jorge. The Guatemalan lay in a heap, probably feigning death in self defense. Traven gestured wildly, and Loren handed his gun to Micah. The bald vampire stared at it with disdain and swung his crowbar absently.
Katelina stayed heaped against the wall, unnoticed, temporarily deaf, and horribly confused. She wanted to scream at Verchiel to kill the bastard. At the same time, she wanted to shout at Loren and Micah to run before the Executioner got them. Though Jorick had forecast the nightmare to Ark, she was in it too. It was time to choose, and she didn’t know what side she was on.
Loren sprinted down the open sided corridor toward the corner. Just then, the vampire fighting Verchiel fell away and landed on the floor in a pile. Verchiel’s bloody sword protruded from his gut. The Executioner pulled it free and stabbed it through his foe’s chest.
The roar in Katelina’s ears faded. Everything sounded tinny and far away, like listening through a metal can. Time seemed to slow. The white dust had settled like a macabre snow. Verchiel spun and launched himself at Traven, and his feet stirred a cloud. Traven saw him coming and bellowed in that far away voice, “Now!”
Loren skidded to a halt and turned back, confused. Traven jabbed the button on the remote. Micah screamed, “No!”
The plastic brick exploded in a cloud of red. Micah stumbled backwards and knocked into Verchiel. They went down in a tangle of limbs and debris. Loren screamed, a horrible, high pitched sound that cut through the imaginary cotton lodged in Katelina’s ears. Where his right arm had been was a bleeding stump that extended only inches below his shoulder. Whether because Loren was a vampire, the brick was small, or the charge’s shape had forced most of the blast in the opposite direction, the rest of his body was intact, though splattered in blood.
Micah struggled loose. He roared at Traven, but raced towards his friend, the weapons forgotten. Loren’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He fingered what was left of his right arm, and the scream choked off into a sick, retching noise. Micah skidded to a stop and knelt in front of him. Loren stared at him, his face pale and his terrified eyes questioning.
Verchiel tackled Traven and pressed his bloody sword to the vampire’s throat. Traven struggled, then grew still.
Micah ripped Loren’s hoodie off and quickly tied it around the stump, to stop the flow of blood. Then, with a soothing murmur, he scooped the teen up and spun around to face Traven. The bald vampire’s face was twisted in a dark fury that Katelina had only seen twice before; first on Oren’s face while the Executioners killed his family and then on Jorick’s when he’d found Adam and Nirel torturing her in the secret room.
“If he doesn’t fucking kill you, you God damn son of a bitch, I will!”
Verchiel pulled Traven to his feet and the sword tip moved to rest against his chest. “That won’t be necessary. He’s my prisoner and, unless you think you can fight and hold onto your friend, you’d best surrender.”
Traven shouted, “Leave the boy! You can take the Executioner and we can finish the mission!”
Micah snarled at him. “Don’t you say a fucking word to me, you fucking pussy piece of shit! I’m not here for your fucking mission, I’m here because I knew you were up to some goddamn sneaky ass bullshit and now I’m gonna rip off your fucking head and piss down your neck!”
Verchiel cut in, “Once you’re locked up together you can do whatever you want to him.” he gazed at Micah, as if weighing some silent set of options, and then called, “Kately, if you’d come and grab that belt of explosives?”
Micah’s eyes bulged and he let loose a string of obscenities. Eyes on her feet, she hobbled across the litter strewn floor and stopped next to the explosives. She glanced from them to Traven. The small silver remote was still in his hand.
Her hesitation was on her face and Verchiel reassured her, “Each one operates on a different megahertz and has its own remote. He can’t set any more of them off with that.”
She hefted the belt and Verchiel turned to where Jorge lay. In broken Spanish, he gave him directions to come with them. At first the Guatemalan ignored him but, when Verchiel repeated it, Jorge stood. He waved his hands and spouted a long flow of tangled Spanish, no doubt begging for his life and insisting his innocence.
Verchiel silenced him with a few words and ordered everyone to come with him. Micah and Loren led the way, followed by Jorge. Verchiel walked with Traven before him like a shield, the sword pressed into his back. Katelina brought up the rear, cautiously lugging the heavy belt.
Verchiel directed them through the door to the stairs. Inside, their foo
tsteps echoed loudly; eerie and bizarre after the all consuming battle noises. More than once, Katelina glanced back, as though one of Traven’s defeated vampires might spring to life and follow them.
When they reached the first floor, Verchiel barked for everyone to wait. He eased his way to the front, still holding Traven, and kicked the door open. A confused chorus of panicked voices met their ears and the Executioner swore before he motioned everyone out.
The corridor immediately outside was empty, but right around the corner was a frightened clump of vampires fighting to get through the glass doors and into the atrium.
Verchiel shouted over them, “Stop! The atrium is not a defensible position! Please move back to the mall or the theater or-”
The crowd babbled over him. They wanted to know who was attacking, who was revolting, where Malick was, and why Eileifr was in the atrium if it was indefensible.
Verchiel tightened his hold on Traven and raised the sword long enough to point it at the crowd. “Do as I say or I’ll kill you myself!” The crowd ran and Traven tried to get loose. Verchiel pressed the blade into his back before he could. Then he motioned to the atrium with his head. “Go on. I’ll hand you over to Eileifr.”
“He can’t control us all!” Traven shouted. “Take him now!”
Verchiel gave an exaggerated sigh, then slammed Traven face first into the wall. There was a loud crunching noise as his face folded in on itself and he went limp.
Verchiel swung Traven’s unconscious body over one shoulder and opened the door to usher them through. “Sorry about that.”
Micah growled low and looked ready for a final fight, but Verchiel said quietly, “It’s a fight or your friend. You can’t do both.”
Loren struggled weakly. “Just leave me and run. Don’t let them kill you. Jorick was right. He said I’d die here.”
“Shut up!” Micah snapped. “Nobody’s dying! You just need some blood and you’ll be fine!”
Loren shook his head. “No, they’ll kill us. You know what they’re like.”
Verchiel interrupted them. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry, so I’m going to do this for you. The injured one thinks The Guild will execute all of you. Frankly, I can’t say whether they will or not. After what’s happened to his arm, he doesn’t see much point in trying to fight them, but he figures you should save yourself. Meanwhile you intend to stick with him because you have some idea that you can still escape, and maybe you can. Either way, the discussion will end with you carrying him through the door, so let’s just do that.”
Micah spit on the floor. “Stay outta my head, fucking mind reader!”
Verchiel managed to look ridiculously cheerful. “Then let’s get on with this so I don’t have to. I still have to get Kately stashed somewhere and then I have to join the others.”
Micah’s head swung to Katelina and his eyes narrowed. “Kately is it? So are you and Jorick sharing her or are you just fucking her now?”
Katelina exploded, “Shut the fuck up, you-”
Verchiel cut her off. “Jorick asked me to take care of her. Now can we get on with it please?”
Micah snarled but he stalked through the door. Per Verchiel’s instructions, Katelina followed them, the Executioner on her heels.
The atrium was chaos. Vampires were everywhere, shouting, crying, screaming, arguing and demanding. Potted plants and furniture were overturned and the floor was littered with broken wood and dirt. Scattered amongst the wreckage were trampled green leaves, separated from their plants.
Eileifr stood before the central fountain, surrounded by a shield of greater and lesser guards. His eyes smoldered with fury and his frame radiated a frightening power. Jorge and Micah stopped short, as did Katelina, afraid to get close to the invisible cloud of anger. Verchiel prodded them gently forward.
The guards barred their approach, guns in their hands. Verchiel pushed his way through them. Eileifr saw him and raised his brows questioningly.
The redhead dipped his head. “Prisoners, Master. This is Traven, the leader of one of the covens. The Hispanic is an unwilling member of his coven, and the other two are-”
“We will sort out who is who when this is finished. The guards will take them.”
Verchiel handed Traven over to one of them and Katelina got a gut wrenching view of his injuries. A fragment of bone stuck out of the side of his nose and the entire right side of his face was crushed and bloody. His jaw was fractured. Half of his teeth stuck out from under his lip like a crooked snarl.
Verchiel took the belt of explosives from Katelina and handed it to someone else, while a guard took hold of Jorge. Another moved to take Loren from Micah. The bald vampire growled and took a step backwards. The guards bristled, and probably would have attacked Micah if a commotion hadn’t started at the main entrance.
A crowd of vampires retreated deeper into the atrium. Through the doors, Katelina could see vampires in the corridor dropping to the floor, hands over their ears as they screamed. Suddenly, three inside the atrium dropped. The crowd of vampires scrambled towards the fountain. Four more fell, hands over their ears and screaming.
The guards tightened the ring around their master. Katelina grabbed Verchiel’s arm. Her voice trembled at this new horror. “What is it?”
The screams grew to a fever pitch and then the afflicted vampires fell flat to the floor and lay motionless. More vampires dropped to their knees, as if an invisible wave was rippling through the room. The entrance doors flew open in a shower of glass and chrome to reveal several vampires, one of them clothed in flowing red robes.
Verchiel’s face tightened. “It’s Malick.”
**********
Chapter Twenty-Two
Katelina choked on her terror. She tried to look away from the newcomers, but she couldn’t and neither could anyone else. Red laser sites snapped to the group, their beams visible in the hazy smoke and dust.
Senya, Greneth, and Griselda stepped forward. Senya and Greneth held blades. Griselda had what looked like a large gun with a giant pronged hook at the end.
Vampires continued to fall. The silent ripple of death grew closer to Katelina. A low buzzing noise began at the base of her skull. It grew louder. Her ears rang. She let go of Verchiel and tried to block the noise, hands over her ears like the others. It didn’t help. Verchiel stood next to her, his face scrunched in determination. The sound grew louder and Katelina’s heart pounded faster and faster. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Verchiel growled and dropped next to her, one arm thrown over her as if it would do something.
The vampires in front of them fell. The sound was so loud that tears squeezed from Katelina’s eyes. Beads of sweat popped up on her face. Her head throbbed and her skin felt hot. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Verchiel pressed his free hand over his ear. The guards behind her dropped. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she’d survive this horrible night. If God couldn’t save her, then no one could.
The sound stopped.
Malick chuckled. Katelina trembled and leaned into Verchiel, too weak to hold herself up. Against her will, her eyes popped open and were drawn to Malick. She shuddered and tried to fight the compulsion to watch.
His voice was thunder and rain, a gentle chastisement that left Katelina quaking. “So you alone would stand against me, Eileifr?”
As if he appeared from thin air, Katelina was suddenly aware of the dark skinned Obi standing next to the Nordic Master. She thought that he must be a Phantom, like Senya.
“He is not alone,” Obi said. His words rolled through the room like a low summer storm, and Katelina shivered.
The Chinese Master, Heng, moved around to stand next to him. “We stand together, Malick.”
“Then where is your younger sister?” A slow smile curled over Malick’s face. “She uses her skills to direct the battle upstairs. One Whisperer in control of a force is not so original. It has been done before.”
“So has systematic slaughter for amusement,”
Eileifr said. “There is nothing original left.”
“There is, if only one seeks it.” Malick gestured to his Executioners and they began a firm march forward. They didn’t bother to kick the bodies of the fallen out of their way, but trod over them. Bones crunched and popped under their booted feet.
Malick swept behind his Executioners, a strange peaceful smile on his face. He looked like a gracious and loving master; like the Renaissance artists’ depictions of God the Father. The dead at his feet belied the carefully set countenance.
No one checked the progression of the macabre procession. Katelina’s stomach churned as they drew closer.
“You’ll be fine,” Verchiel whispered in her ear, and then stood. She tried to pull him back down, but she was too weak.
Malick’s entourage came to a stop before the fountain. The three Executioners peeled away to allow Malick the lead. The guards clutched their weapons in trembling but defiant fists. Malick flicked his wrist and the buzzing started again. Katelina screamed and clutched her head. Her body slumped to the floor as though her bones were made of jelly. Despite their determination, the guards soon joined her, all writhing. Verchiel remained standing, his face twisted in pain, a stubborn fire in his eyes.
The Masters were unaffected.
Eileifr raised a hand. “Enough, Malick.”
The Master smirked, but the horrible noise stopped. Katelina was left panting and too weak to stand. Verchiel looked down at her and mouthed, “You still alive?” Though his words were flip, worry shone in his eyes.
She managed to nod and clutched his leg weakly as the guards staggered to their feet.
Heng stepped forward. He seemed to grow before Katelina’s startled eyes. “Cease, Malick. There is no advantage for you.”
“Isn’t there?” Malick concentrated his gaze on Heng. Katelina could almost see the waves of power that attacked him. Heng’s face twisted with effort and then he seemed to shrink back to his normal size.
Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II Page 60