“If it means anything, I think the sooner we kick his ass, the better.” Rosalin leaned forward eagerly, her wolf in her eyes. The energy of her beast called to mine, tickling the hairs on my arm and making me suddenly warm. I closed my eyes, shielding. Control is strength.
“It’s not a matter of just rushing in and kicking his ass,” I said. “You’ve got to remember that lives are at risk in a war, both theirs and ours. You have to weigh your options. Rupert, any ideas?”
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Yeah.”
“Care to share?”
“You won’t like it.”
“Why?”
“It involves putting you at the front line of this war. How do you feel about delivering pizza?”
“Son of a bitch. You can’t come up with anything better than that?”
“We’re limited on what we’re able to do, Kass. Unless we resort to brute force, we’re screwed.”
“Do I get to put my gun in the pizza bag?”
“If that’s where you want to put it.”
“Fine, tell me the plan. I’ll tell you if I can do it.”
“We both know you can, Kass.”
“Silver bullets will not accomplish much against a vampire,” Eris said. She’d been quiet the entire time, taking in our conversation.
She was right. The only thing a silver bullet would do was slow a young vampire. Unless you were shooting point-blank and blew a decent-sized hole in the heart, a bullet to a body part just irritated most vampires. The way to kill one involved a sharp wooden stake made out of oak. It was a good idea to bless the stake, but religion wouldn’t protect anyone against an angry vampire.
“I’m fresh out of stakes,” I said.
“I’m not,” Rupert said.
“You just happen to carry a spare?”
“Kass, you know me. I’m always prepared.”
“Are they blessed?”
“No. I figured you could do that.”
“Get me the oil I need and I can bless them. Unfortunately, holy water doesn’t do shit.”
“Neither do crosses,” Rosalin added, “right?”
“Religious emblems won’t do anything,” I told her. “It’s the combination of the wood and pine oil their bodies reject.”
“The blessing helps ensure the stake’s potency,” Lenorre said. “You could still impale a vampire with oak and pine, but it is more effective if you infuse the wood and oil with your energy.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rosalin said. “Could I help?”
“You can get me the oil I need.” I slouched in my seat, briefly touching Lenorre’s hand.
Rosalin went into the kitchen, and I heard a cabinet door open and close before she walked back out carrying a bottle of pine cleaner. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.
“The main ingredient is pine oil,” she said, swaying the bottle from side to side.
Rupert chuckled. “Let’s get a bucket and marinate some stakes.”
“It’s not a barbecue,” I said. “Where are they?”
“I’ve got a gym bag full in the car. I’ll go get them.”
“Will the pine cleaner work?” I asked Lenorre for reassurance.
“Yes. I think it will.” She scrunched up her nose. “Looking at it puts me off.”
“Then why do you have it in your house?” I asked, amused.
“I do not use it."
Rosalin beamed, clearly proud of herself. “Nope, that’s me. I’ll go get a bucket.”
“I’ll help you bless them,” Zaphara said, glancing at Lenorre and Eris. “As I’m sure the vampires in the room will probably want to leave.”
Lenorre stood and I squeezed her hand. “Is it that bad?”
“At a distance, it does not bother me overmuch,” she said smoothly. “However, I would prefer not to smell the scent of highly concentrated pine cleaner.”
“I agree with Lenorre,” Eris said. “I would rather not participate.”
Lenorre bent at the waist, placing a soft kiss against my cheek.
“We’ll come get you when we’re done.”
Rupert still hadn’t gone out to get the stakes like he said he would. “Think you ladies could find what we need for Kassandra’s disguise?”
Eris and Lenorre exchanged a look. “Most likely,” Lenorre said. “If all else fails we will order pizza.”
“Lenorre!”
“Do not worry, my love.” She smiled widely enough to flash her dainty fangs. “I would not kill someone just for their uniform.”
Eris said, “I'm not opposed to tying them up in the basement.” She actually winked at me.
I turned back to Lenorre. “I don’t want you charming them out of their uniform, either.”
“Why would I do that? You would be surprised what a person would do just for money.”
I shook my head. “Go. Rupert, get the stakes.”
He nodded, following them out of the room.
Eris turned around, looking over her shoulder. “You would look cute in a uniform.”
Since I couldn’t tell if she was joking, I didn’t say anything. Rosalin walked in, placing an empty bucket on the table, then poured the entire bottle of cleaner into it. Without thinking I inhaled a deep whiff, then coughed uncontrollably.
“Holy fuck,” she said, plugging her nose. “No wonder they bolted.”
I tried to breathe the air in through my mouth and choked. The smell of pine and chemicals was so strong I could taste it on the back of my tongue like I’d just taken a swig of it.
“We’ll need gloves,” I said.
“And nose plugs,” Rosalin added.
Zaphara chuckled from her seat at the table. “Apparently, wolves don’t much like the smell either.”
Neither one of us disagreed. It wasn’t necessarily the pine, as much as the concentrated amount of pine. Werewolves and vampires have a stronger sense of smell than humans. I didn’t know about Zaphara. If so, the Daoine Maithe tolerated it better than the two of us.
Rupert emerged from the foyer. “Smells like my grandmother is in here.” He dropped a navy blue gym bag on the table and unzipped it to pull out a handful of long wooden stakes. “Just drop them in?”
“Sure,” I said, struggling to breathe past that suffocating smell. “Why not?”
He dropped them into the bucket one at a time.
“Would you prefer I bless the stakes?” Zaphara asked.
I nodded, holding onto the edge of the table. “I’m having a hard time concentrating and trying not to gag.”
Once the bucket was full, Zaphara took it. Her hair draped around her face, framing the paleness of her skin, the dark line of brow. Her features were slack, utterly serene. In truth, we were closer to cursing the stakes than we were to blessing them. We had to infuse them with the energy of our intentions. Obviously, our intentions were for them to kill a vampire. In my book, that seemed more like a hex than a blessing.
She drew a symbol in the air with her right index finger. The symbol blazed like a violet shadow hanging in the air, and a breeze of warm energy tickled my arms.
Zaphara looked at me. “The Raven has granted you more than just a mask to wear,” she said, her voice dripping with power as thick as molasses. “It seems she has granted you the gift of sight as well.”
I watched as the seven points of the star dimmed, gradually bursting with white light and disappearing altogether, like it had never been there.
“Do you know what you have just seen, Kassandra?”
“You drew a septagram. The Faerie Star.”
“Good. Very good, little witch.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Rupert said.
“You wouldn’t,” Rosalin said. “I didn’t see it either, but I felt it.” She shuddered.
“What did it feel like, wolf?” Zaphara asked her.
Rosalin took a step back, her shoulders hunched forward protectively. “Power,” she said, “it felt like power.”
Rupert spoke u
p again. “I didn’t feel anything either.”
“Rupert,” I said softly.
“I know. I’m human. I wouldn’t.”
“You would if you were a psychic,” Zaphara said.
“Somehow,” he said, “I feel like I should be grateful I’m not.”
*
It would’ve been best if we had soaked the stakes in the pine overnight, to ensure the wood absorbed the oil. Unfortunately, we didn’t have that much time. Rosalin emptied the bucket in the sink and set about drying the excess liquid off the wood. It would do.
Lenorre had found a dark blue polo shirt with a popular pizza logo on it. Apparently, Trevor had delivered pizzas for a bit of extra cash before he met Isabella. He wasn’t a big guy, but the shirt was still long. I’d had to borrow a pair of drawstring khakis from Rosalin to fully pull off the disguise. We’d also found that Rosalin and I wore the same size shoe, even though she was a few inches taller. She’d loaned me a pair of blue-and-white running shoes, which felt weird and slightly uncomfortable because I wasn’t used to their shape and weight. I was used to boots, skate shoes, and the occasional heel. Given a choice, I’d have preferred the boots or the skate shoes, whether they’re ideal to run in or not.
Trevor had also provided us with a hot bag. The bag Rupert had thought about using wouldn’t have fooled anyone. In fact, if I wasn’t quick enough the smell of pine would give us away. We gathered around the kitchen table, and I busied myself with putting the small-of-the-back holster on. I pulled the baggy shirt over it, which hid the gun, unless someone was looking for one. Rupert confirmed for me that it wasn’t noticeable.
“Done,” Rosalin announced as she finished putting the nine stakes I would carry in the bag. We had fifteen stakes in all, which meant Rosalin, Zaphara, and Rupert each got two. I got stuck with the rest. Lenorre and Eris assured us they didn’t need them, probably because they didn’t want to touch them. It made sense; I didn’t want to play with silver. I couldn’t imagine the vampires wanting to play with their bane, either.
I would take out the vampire who answered the door, if the delivery disguise confused him long enough. The others would follow my lead. We would go in and kill them one by one, until we faced the bastard himself, the Count of Counts.
“Something is missing.” Rosalin eyed me curiously. “You need to pull your hair back. You need a hat too. Hold on.”
She went upstairs, returning with a khaki baseball cap and ponytail holder. “It doesn’t have the logo on it, but it’ll work.”
“I look horrible in baseball caps.”
“It’s a good idea, Kass. You’re not going to a fashion show. Shut up and put the cap on.”
“Thanks, Rupert.” I took the headgear from Rosalin. “Next time we go hunting you get to wear a dress. Okay?”
He chuckled while I pulled my hair up, tucking the ponytail into the hole at the back of the cap and securing it on the top of my head.
“Now,” he said, “we’re ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I tossed the pizza bag over my left arm, leaving my right hand free to go for the stake or, if need be, for my gun. I’d parked the Tiburon on the street corner, and the others had ridden with Rupert. They wouldn’t make their move until I was done taking down the vamp at the door.
As casually as I could I followed the sidewalk to the steps in front of the porch. Climbing them, I unzipped the bag. It’d make it easier to go for the stake if the vampire got suspicious and tried to kill me before I could say anything. Considering the strong smell of pine that leaked from the bag, I was pretty sure shit would hit the fan if the vampire got a whiff of it. I had to be quick, very quick. It was quick or dead.
I paused at the door, taking a deep breath to steel myself, then knocked lightly. Vampires have excellent hearing. I wanted only one vamp to answer the door. It wouldn’t accomplish anything if they all came running.
One of the double doors opened to reveal the same vampire I’d tormented earlier. His features contorted in confusion.
“Pizza?” I said, trying to sound cute and utterly harmless. Lady knows, there isn’t enough Xanax in the world to truly accomplish that, but I tried.
“We didn’t order any—”
With speed known to most lycanthropes, I slipped my hand inside the hot bag, wrapped my fingers around the damp stake, and thrust it into his heart, putting my entire body into the motion. He stumbled backward.
His breath wheezed out as he slipped to the ground. Quietly, I used a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling with a loud thud.
“Pizza…” His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, gasping silently. It wasn’t like in the movies. He didn’t dissolve into a batch of dust or instantly decay. He just died.
“Not bad,” Rupert whispered. “You’re pretty fucking fast. I barely saw you.”
I took it for the compliment it was. “Thank you,” I said, wiping the blood on my borrowed T-shirt.
Zaphara ducked into the doorway, touched the vampire’s forehead, and murmured something I couldn’t understand. A warm breeze of power trickled over my skin.
“They will not see him.”
“I can see him,” I said.
Her smile was grim and dark. “You were watching when I cast the spell. The only thing a vampire may notice is the smell of blood.”
“One down,” I murmured. “Eleven to go.”
“We should split up,” Rupert said.
“Eris and I will go find the Count,” Lenorre said, “as that is where our battle lies.”
“Kass,” Rupert said, “who do you want to go with?”
“I think you should go with Zaphara,” I told Rupert. “I have faith she’ll keep your ass alive.”
“I can take care of myself,” Rosalin said. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“Rosalin. This is not the time, nor the place. I want you to come with me.”
She looked like she was ready to argue when I shook my head. We split up into three groups. Zaphara and Rupert would go through the main part of the church with Lenorre and Eris to fight the vampires there. That was where most of the vampires were, according to Zaphara. Rosalin and I would search for the kids. Some of them might’ve been changed, but we would see how many were redeemable. Redeemable. It wasn’t a pretty thought.
First, we had to find where they were keeping them. Zaphara had seen the ones that were changed in the main part of the church, but she hadn’t seen anyone that looked like Timothy Nelson. That was either really bad news, meaning he was dead, or he was being held prisoner somewhere. If it were a choice between two evils, I’d prefer he was unharmed and locked up somewhere.
We spotted doors to our left once we emerged from the entryway. I opened one and listened. Nothing. The church was two stories high, so one of the doors led upstairs. Zaphara had explained the layout as best as she could before we left. A small kitchen, a basement, and a storage room were toward the back, and an upstairs was probably where Sunday-school classes were held when the church was in service.
Sounds of fighting broke out in the other room.
“That’s our cue,” I said, opening the first door to find a moldy-smelling bathroom.
I walked lightly, as quietly as I could. Rosalin followed suit. I opened the second door to find a set of stairs.
We slipped up them, emerging into one of the hallways Zaphara had described. A door at the end of the hallway opened and the vampires I’d seen earlier from the porch, the redhead and Goth boy, strode into the hall. They stopped.
“Well,” he said. At first, he looked confused, then the confusion turned into a hard, arrogant look. “Greetings. I’m afraid we didn’t order anything.”
“I’m pretty sure you did,” I said, handing the pizza bag to Rosalin. She took it, steadying a stake in her other hand.
“I think they’re here to play, Dommie,” the woman said in what sounded like an Australian accent.
I drew the Pro .40, clicking the safe
ty off and instinctively aiming at his heart. I was pretty sure Rosalin could handle Red. Goth boy seemed the more threatening of the two.
He looked at the gun with an arrogant smirk.
“Go ahead,” he said, spreading his arms wide and taking a step forward. “Try me.”
“My pleasure,” I said, and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet hit him, his body jerked, but he stood his ground. He placed two fingers over the hole in his heart, smearing the tips of his fingers in the blood, and lifted them to his mouth. “Not a bad shot,” he said, licking the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing. “I’ll give you credit for that.”
Before I could say anything else, Rosalin rushed the female vampire in a blur of speed. It distracted me for a moment, giving Goth boy the time he needed to attack me. My back hit the wall and his hand wrapped around my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe as he picked me up off the ground. I drew a ragged breath over the grip of his fingers and growled.
“Not good enough,” he said.
“Bite me.” I raised the gun between our bodies. He saw the movement, tossing me to the side like a rag doll. I braced myself, allowing my elbows to take the impact when I hit the ground, keeping my forehead from slamming into the carpet. A woman screamed. It didn’t sound like Rosalin.
“Trisha!”
Rosalin’s clawed hand came into view. In her hand she held a mass of pulsing meat. My mind didn’t want to register what it was, but once I looked and saw the hole in her chest, I knew. The smell of blood hit me like some sweet metal.
The vampire’s heart fell to the ground with a meaty thud.
The wolf growled through me, her anger falling from my human lips. I discarded the gun, snatching one of the stakes.
Goth boy heard me, heard the growl rolling from my chest. He started to turn, but it was too late. I hit him, plunging the stake into his body like a blade. I jerked it out and pulled my arm back, ready to land another blow.
His raised hand fell away as he sank to the floor, no longer undead, but truly dead.
“That wasn’t the smartest idea.”
“It worked,” Rosalin said in a growling voice, “didn’t it?”
Raven Mask Page 19