StoneDragon

by Adrian Cross

  The spider collapsed, like a brain-shot steer, its legs buckling and twisting under its weight. Its great head bounced.

  So did Clay, smacking hard into the earth, somehow still clinging to the stake. The impact painted pain through his shoulder and ribs, even through his coat, but he refused to let go of the weapon. Vampires healed fast, presumably even spider ones. He didn’t want to take any chances.

  Raol stumbled into sight.

  “Cut off its head,” Clay grated.

  It took a while, but Raol did. It wasn’t neat. After, he helped Clay to his feet, and they both stared down at the mountain of flesh they’d slain.

  “What in hells were they doing down here?” Raol asked.

  “Playing with things they shouldn’t.” Clay limped to the blue dagger and picked it up. Its shine had diminished slightly, as if the spider’s malice had fouled it, but the light was still sufficient to guide him toward the cells. They were worryingly quiet.

  Thick shadows pooled inside the first cell. Clay extended his arm, letting Resh’s dagger push back the darkness.

  A girl huddled in the right side of the cell, her limbs thin and blonde hair matted, her body curled in tight. The blue stone at her chest leaked only the faintest of lights, a dim reflection of the dagger. She licked her lips and tried to focus on Clay’s face.

  “Clay,” she whispered. “Is it you?” A tear wound slowly through the dirt on her cheek. “Waves, I’m sorry.” Her gaze shifted to the cells beside her. “I tried.”

  Clay sprang farther down the line of cells, holding out the dagger. The light drove the shadows away. But that wasn’t all. Mounds of tiny shapes heaved and spilled away, streaming back into the blackness. His stomach clenched. More spiders.

  “Clay?” The voice was almost too soft to be heard.

  The pistol slid into his hand, bucked. Acid took care of the lock, a kick the door.

  A small shape lay curled inside the cell. Bern looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, her dark hair spread like spilled blood, eyes closed. Only her lips moved, trembling slightly.

  “Clay?”

  He choked as he saw a tiny spider crawling out from under her arm and then scuttling away from the blue light. Fiery rage filled him.

  He leveled the pistol at the shadows, and it jumped in his hand. Salamander balls smashed dirt and insects, kindling red flame.

  “Clay!” Raol stood at the cell door, Karen in his arms. He must have ripped her door free with sheer strength, as he had done on their way in. “We need to leave.”

  Clay slid his hands under Bern and lifted her. Her body was too light, frail.

  “I’ve got you, Bern.” His voice sounded strangely distant. “I’m here.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes opened, but they were glazed; pupils too big and unfocused. Her cheeks were flushed, and the skin of her neck felt hot against his wrist.

  “You left me,” she whispered.

  Guilt and grief and rage choked him. He blinked back tears. “I’m so sorry…”

  She smiled dreamily, her eyes drifting closed. “How did you know it was my nameday?”

  She was delirious.

  “Come on,” Raol said. He was already walking back the way they’d come. Clay followed.

  Bern’s eyes opened again, but he wasn’t sure she saw him. “I’m so happy you came.” She giggled and then reached up to put a hand behind Clay’s head, pulling him down into a kiss. Shocked, he didn’t resist.

  Her lips were hot and dry, moving slightly. He froze, his heart hammering.

  She hiccupped a laugh, and then her head lolled back.

  “Bern?” He pressed awkward fingers to her neck. She had a pulse, although faint. He breathed again.

  Raol was watching. Sympathy swirled in his eyes. Clay felt a rush of gratitude. The dark-skinned vampire wasn’t all bad.

  They started walking again. Clay barely noticed his surroundings. The world felt fuzzy and out of joint. If any Spartans had been hiding in the shadows, they could have carved their initials in his back without him noticing.

  Bern was too light for the importance of what flickered in that small body. Clay’s lips burned and the tunnels didn’t seem to have enough air. Bern had been delirious. She hadn’t known what she was doing. But she’d still kissed him.

  They reached the bottom of the pit.

  Was he happy about it? Upset? He’d been so focused on Karen at first, her beauty and resemblance to Sarah touching something within him. But with Bern, it was something new. What exactly, he didn’t know, but he knew the world would be a darker place if her light went out.

  The vampire slithered up the rope ladder, Karen on his shoulder.

  Clay followed, more awkwardly. It wasn’t an easy climb. Bern’s weight unbalanced him and swung the ladder unexpectedly. He ducked his head and focused on each hand and foothold, blocking out everything else. The simple physical distraction pulled his mind from the confusing tangle of his thoughts.

  With a last heave, he got Bern out of the hole and then pulled himself over, lying flat on the ground. Only then did he see the figures circling him. A blade pricked the side of his neck.

  “Easy now. No sudden moves.”

  The feel of the blade wasn’t cold, but obscenely warm. It seemed to throb against his skin. He knew who held it without even looking.

  “I’m sorry, Clay.” Raol took Clay’s pistol and dagger, leaving the Rib where it was, most likely because Raol didn’t realize its value.

  Four other vampires surrounded Clay. One held JP, a hand over his mouth. The young genius’s eyes burned with anger and fear. Clay felt rage and guilt surge through him, making it hard to think. This was his fault. He’d misjudged the duplicity of the vampires, and all of them were going to pay.

  “Candiman’s orders,” Raol said. He took a length of chain from another vampire.

  Clay said nothing.

  They stripped off his coat and weapons and then wrapped the chains around his wrists and forearms. The vampire with Clay’s weapons trotted off, followed by another carrying JP. The vampires had no idea of the power and depth of JP’s mind. But sadly, he had the same physical abilities of any other sixteen-year-old boy.

  Raol lifted Clay and set him over a shoulder, the world twisting so Clay faced the ground. After a jounce, Raol settled into motion, running after his companions. He was no longer slowed by his human companions’ limitations.

  “You’ll regret this,” Clay said. The wind tore away the words. He didn’t think Raol heard but didn’t repeat himself. The words rang hollow. Candiman had them.

  The surroundings blurred into shades of grey, striped with white as they followed the Prophet’s path of skulls. Soon they were back at the gate to the vampire’s district, which had one change: a mound of fresh corpses. Blood seeped from mottled flesh and shredded skin. Most were Earth warriors, victims of the vampires’ recent battle—but not all. Clay saw a few human citizens, their features pale and slack, bruises along their limbs, with stains of dried blood, victims of the ultimate betrayal. Candiman was paying the Prophet for his favors, Clay realized, in bodies. But apparently it didn’t matter what shape they were delivered in, and the vampires had taken advantage. They had sucked those who trusted them dry before delivering their husks to the Wasteland, where no one would ever know.

  There were some cold hard truths about vampires.

  “I already do,” Raol said quietly.

  34

  The Castle Falls

  The Earth army hit them in waves, like the battering of an ocean storm. Rose danced away from a massive bear man, her shoulder aching where she’d taken a rat man’s kick from behind. Evan’s blade had sprouted from the rat man’s neck a second later, but that didn’t change the bruise she’d gained.

  The bear’s mace swung around again, and Rose rolled under the blow, careful not to crush the collapsed crossbow on her belt. The nearly empty case of bolts rattled on her other hip. She was saving both, as they were too valuable to wast
e in close quarter melee.

  The bear lifted his muzzle to roar, and she used the chance to sink her boot knife into the side of its throat. Blood sprayed as the knife came out, blade gleaming in the Wall’s light.

  She spun away from another swing. On all sides of her, Rhino’s Fists decimated Earth warriors. Rhino led them, carrying a heavy axe. It sheared through the blade and throat of a furred thing. Bull deer mix maybe? Rose couldn’t spare the attention to be sure.

  To her other side, Evan danced almost as gracefully as she, being as careful to retrieve his throwing blades as he was to loose them. As she had discovered, in a battle of sheer numbers, preserving ammunition was key.

  Snake was on the other side, tall and blood-splashed, his muscles bulging as he crushed his opponents. He was so arrogant and obnoxious, Rose sometimes forgot how good he was at destruction. Rhino kept Snake on for a reason. That reason was mostly that he scared the bejeesus out of most people, especially if they knew what his third eye could do.

  He was watching Rose, she realized, even as she leaned back out of the way of a third blow from the bear. The throat puncture didn’t seem to be slowing it down much. With so much sheer meat to the beast, it was hard to think of an easy way to slow it down. She could plant a bolt in its eye, but she’d folded up the crossbow. She’d have to run back to get some distance, and she didn’t feel like doing that with Snake watching.

  She sank her larger belt knife into the bear’s ribs and pivoted around it. Jaws snapped where she had been a second before.

  Something was nagging her about Snake’s look. She knew he didn’t like her. He didn’t like anybody, but she’d always tagged Clay’s heels, and a deeper hatred seemed to have attached to her by default.

  She looked back and saw him smash a small clearing and then turn toward her. She noticed a slight distortion in the air around his third eye.

  Bastard. He was going to have a convenient accident, trying to “help” her.

  She dove away, rolling fast. She came up well to one side, her boot knife drawn back in one hand. Ready to throw.

  But Snake hadn’t shifted his attention to follow her. Instead, the bear-thing had caught the brunt of his gaze. Rose watched in dark fascination as the furred beast’s muscles locked, as if some invisible force had clamped around him. He trembled, and then grey seemed to leech over him, like a fist. His lips were frozen open in a silent snarl of rage. The beast toppled forward.

  Behind it, another handful of grey rat men toppled. Snake’s power was not needle sharp in its focus, which had never seemed to bother him much.

  Snake shut his third eye. His gaze drifted to meet hers, and he smiled slowly. It still wouldn’t have bothered him much. She glared back, letting the knife dance through her fingers.

  “To me,” Rhino bellowed. He stood over a mound of bodies, his axe slick with gore.

  Rose realized all the Earth warriors had been killed or repulsed, and a stream of Rhino’s men were flowing out of a nearby tunnel. For the moment, he had the upper hand in numbers, although she had no doubt it wouldn’t last. Clay had described an army outside the gates, limited only by how fast they could march in through the breach. Would this be a race, she wondered, between the time it took to hunt them down? How long before the city Shifted and left this world behind? A lump formed in her throat. The next Shift wasn’t for almost three days.

  The soldiers circled Rhino. Evan appeared beside Rose.

  When he saw her, a tightness around his eyes relaxed slightly. “The dark rose is apparently hard to stamp out.”

  She gave him a cold look. “I haven’t forgotten the castle, you know.”

  “I hope not. It was really a generous offer, you know.” He grinned impishly. “Still open, in case you were wondering.”

  She sniffed and turned toward Rhino. He stared at the castle. She didn’t have to follow his gaze to know it was alight. She could hear the crackle as the wooden beams inside caught fire and the occasional rumble as stones were brought down. All of Rhino’s armaments in the basement would have been burned or buried. His face was grim.

  “We have not been defeated,” he said loudly, “but to truly make them pay, we will have to pick our spot. We go, but we will return.”

  He turned and headed for the center of StoneDragon, toward the Broken Tower.

  Rose had a bad feeling in her stomach as she fell in behind him, one of many. Rhino had been focused so much on the Last Great War, he’d been caught off guard by this one. She had a feeling things were going to get worse before they got better.

  35

  Chained

  It’s hard to be observant when being carried upside down over a shoulder, every step jabbing the shoulder into your stomach, but Clay noticed the streets of the Club District seemed brighter. He saw blurry flares of flames, from windows and lamp posts still standing, and many shadowed feet. People watched them pass, although no one asked questions as Raol ghosted past. Clay felt the pressure of the eyes and wondered what they thought. If he yelled out that he’d been betrayed by Candiman, would anyone listen? Or had all the warm blooded retreated with simply a channel of vampires waiting?

  Then the world reversed again. Clay swayed, the blood rushing through his limbs. Raol kept an iron grip on Clay’s arm.

  They were in front of the Emporium again, but this time its façade blazed with thousands of lanterns, awash in garish glory, a wall of colored lights. The spills of light formed brash and suggestive shapes: the graceful curve of a woman’s hip, a shining splash of red wine—or maybe blood—and finally outstretched wings, shaped by the absence of light, like death within glory.

  Two shadows crouched over the archway, wrinkled and unblinking. A chill touched Clay’s chest. They were things he’d heard of but never seen: Guardians, vampires whose infections had gone terribly wrong, become more virulent than normal and ravaged their bodies, destroying healthy tissue along with sick. The disease melted away almost all of what once was human and left Guardians only with all-consuming hunger. They watched Clay pass below them with dark, burning eyes.

  The massive doors swung silently closed, shutting out the city, leaving a vast silence.

  Clay’s chains jangled as he was pushed forward.

  The inside of the club resembled a huge vaulting cathedral. Curving walls stretched up from a mottled red-pink tile floor, which looked like a reflective pool of blood under Clay’s boots. At the far end of the room, where a preacher’s altar would sit in a normal church, rose a black pedestal. On top of it was a tangle of knives, a Bible with a hole burned in it—a shot glass inside—and a dark-red decanter Clay was pretty sure didn’t hold wine.

  In a mocking similarity to a church, images of Jesus lined the walls, crucified forms with nails driven through slender wrists and ankles. But unlike a church, these figures moved. A hollow-eyed man lifted his head to look at Clay. A rat clung to his hair, eyes gleaming red.

  The man smiled contentedly. Clay felt like vomiting.

  Ahead of him, he saw another vampire pulling JP. The young genius’s head craned around to keep the bodies on the wall in sight. Clay remembered Rhino’s accusation that JP had been part of the mutations. He denied it, but if evidence of the darkness the Last Great War had unleashed ever existed, this was it. The vampiric infection had started in human labs.

  JP’s escort forced him through a door in the back wall. Raol led Clay after them, into a dark narrow staircase that wound down. The air smelled thick and hot, spiced with blood, fear, and arousal. Clay wondered where they were headed.

  The air seemed to cool as they traveled and the torches grew less frequent, so Raol kept a hand on Clay’s arm at all times. Otherwise, Clay would likely have tumbled down the stairs.

  They stopped on a small landing, even though the stairway continued down farther.

  A door scarred the stone wall, its frame edged with rust and strong wood beams striping its center. JP’s vampire rapped a fist against the wood. After a moment’s pause, the door opened.
A white-skinned man stared out at them, frowning. He had no eyebrows and held a mace in soft hands. Rolls of skin cascaded down like spoiled milk. He was the first fat vampire Clay had seen.

  Raol pushed Clay past the vampire.

  On the other side of the door was a narrow stone hallway, marred only by a straight-backed chair and iron shelf. Clay’s weapons rested on the shelf, likely deposited by one of the earlier vampires. Raol looked at them a moment and then shifted his attention to the end of the hallway, where a rough iron door filled the space, pebbled and thick. Beyond the door, darkness wrapped a stone cell. A drip of water echoed.

  The guard jumped to unlock the cell.

  Raol pulled Clay inside. It was so dark Clay couldn’t make out the walls, but he noticed a strange smell in the air. Raol drew his infected blade and used his other hand to unwind Clay’s chains.

  Clay tensed, debating a move. It would be nearly suicidal, unarmed against someone like Raol, but he had to try something sooner or later if he hoped to survive.

  Before he could decide, Raol slipped out of the cell and closed the door. The fat vampire scraped the key in the door.

  Clay seized the bars, hot rage and helplessness building in his chest. “What about the others? The girl needs a doctor.”

  Raol leveled a sharp gaze at Clay and then turned toward the door.

  “She’s going to die. You have to help!”

  Raol stopped “Wait outside the door,” he told the guard quietly.

  “Why?”

  Raol looked at the guard. The fat vampire nearly tripped over himself trying to obey. When the door clicked closed, Raol turned to face Clay.

  “Why should I care about your friend?”

  “Because she’s a person. She’s sick. You don’t have to follow Candiman’s orders for everything. She never did anything to deserve this. Do you really want this on your conscience?”

  Raol touched his scarf. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”