Gabriel studied her. He didn’t seem angry or surprised to see her. “Nayara of the forgotten Celts. You’ve come to clean up your mistake, I see. Too late, but that’s a vampire for you. Preppie, to the last.” He turned back to Tally. “Must we go through the routine, woman? I threaten, you nobly insist on protecting your bastard, I shoot and take him, anyway? Why not save yourself the agony and just hand him over?”
Tally drew herself upright and spat. The globule flew through the air then dropped, abruptly, a foot away from Gabriel. Another mental shield.
Jack was squalling loudly now, but outside the room, the station claxons were making more noise than Jack. No one would hear him above the panic and din out there.
Gabriel aimed the weapon at Tally. “Very well, then,” he said and fired. Nia jumped at him as he fired, on the theory that he would be mentally focused on Tally and his shield would be weak. This time, she landed on his back and as Tally crumpled to the ground, Nia tucked her elbow under his throat and began to squeeze. She wrapped her thigh around his chest and tightened her grip on his diaphragm. She waited for him to scrabble at her arm with his hands, which would lift his arms out of the way so she could drive the knife into the vital soft spot in his side, deep enough to puncture his kidney. The death blow for a normal human anatomy.
Gabriel tossed her across the room.
It felt like two giant hands plucked her up from his back, like an adult would sweep a child up from off the ground. She was lifted high up into the air, then thrown hard. She slammed into the wall and the blade of one of her knives punched into her midriff and buried deep in her gut, driven in by the impact.
The wall was the outer wall of the station, reinforced and stress-proofed. It had no give at all. Nia slid down to the floor, feeling broken bones already trying to knit and mend. The pain was incredible.
She pulled the knife out with a wheezy grunt and let it clatter to the floor. She looked up as Gabriel stood over her. He held Jack in one arm. The baby was wriggling and red in the face from his howling.
Gabriel crouched down. It was a bouncy movement, full of muscle and energy. Jack struggled in his grip. Nia almost cringed. Almost.
Gabriel grinned. “You and I are going to have so much fun,” he whispered.
She swallowed. “You’re a sick bastard,” she told him.
His smile broadened.
“I will die before I give you an inch of fun,” she added.
Gabriel laughed. “Too late, Nayara. Too late by a mile.” He touched her lips with his forefinger and this time she did recoil in disgust.
Gabriel pushed himself upright. No he bounced up...and kept going. He jumped up and away.
Just like that, he was gone...with the baby.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brenden had said to meet at the ferry lounge.
Nia considered the quickest way to the ferry lounge. It was at the back of the station, almost as far away from where Rob, Christian and Tally’s quarters were located as it was physically possible to move and still remain inside the station.
She briefly considered jumping, but there would already be people there. The chances of emerging where someone else already stood was too risky.
But the kitchen was almost next door and usually deserted....
She hauled herself back onto her feet. The broken bones were repaired enough to take her weight, now. The wound in her side was still seeping blood, but it wouldn’t kill her. She wiped the blood off her knife using her own skirt and pushed the knife into her boot sheath. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last blood her clothing would acquire in the next little while.
She glanced around the room, as the three still bodies. Her heart squeezed in panic. She made a mental promise that she would return for them and jumped to the area behind the serving counter, that was as close to a guaranteed empty spot as one could get.
The coolness of the metal-and-tile kitchen registered on her skin as the rumour of fighting reached her ears. The ferry lounge lay just on the other side of the wall, but she would have to exit the kitchen and traverse part of the access corridor to reach it.
She pulled one of her knives and moved as swiftly as her enhanced abilities and still repairing injuries would allowed.
The lounge was a roiling mass of bodies and even as she reached the wide entryway, more agency people poured into the room from the other entrances. She paused to strategically assess the situation.
The attackers were not vampires, for they clearly did not possess the enhanced strength and speed that vampires enjoyed. For that reason, the agency people should have subdued the enemy by now. Nayara spotted at least four vampires in the room—usually more than enough.
Abruptly, a woman appeared in front of Nayara, her arm raised in a strike pose. It triggered Nayara’s instincts and she blocked the descending curved knife with the edge of her own, before it could reach her chest. The point had been aiming squarely for her heart. They knew at least one of a vampire’s weaknesses, then.
Before Nayara could counter further, a longer, heavier blade forced the woman’s knife away and there was an almost soundless ring of steel as the blade whipped across the woman’s now exposed abdomen, gutting her in a single stroke.
She staggered backwards, clutching her stomach and Ryan stepped in front of Nayara, holding his bloodied broadsword.
“They’re psi,” he rasped, his gaze on the woman as she folded to the ground. “They’re jumping to evade us. That’s what’s making them as fast as us.”
“Where is Cáel?” Nia demanded.
“He’s busy,” Ryan replied. He shook his head. “He’s fine.”
“He’s human...”
“He’s Cáel, Nia. Trust me, he’s fine.” Ryan’s gaze was steady, daring her to refute him.
Nia swallowed her worry. Ryan was right. Cáel had unique abilities and tenacity. While they had more pressing concerns.
“Where did they learn how to fight this way?” Nayara asked, watching the melee. She saw what Ryan had already seen; when a vampire attacked a psi, the psi did not retreat or dodge. They jumped...over to another vampire, who was unprepared and barely able to hold their own.
More vampires were racing into the room, with a variety of weapons.
“Our people don’t know what to expect,” Nayara gasped. “We’re vulnerable.”
The sound of an ancient war cry made them both whirl to look behind. Fifteen paces along the passage, Brenden had a psi by the throat, lifted off his feet, as the psi turned red in the face. Brenden’s big hand squeezed, until there was a wet, muffled crack of bones and the psi went limp. Brenden tossed him away and snarled. “They’re jumping beyond us, further into the station!” he cried and took off at a run back down the passage.
In Nayara’s mind, Demyan Romanov’s communications channel beeped and opened. “I’m with Brenden,” his voice whispered. “Psi appearing everywhere. What are they looking for?” The channel closed.
“Gabriel!” Ryan said. He strode forward as Nayara spotted Gabriel, too. The man was in amongst the heaviest fighting, carrying his rifle-shaped weapon down by his side. He didn’t have Jack anymore.
Where was the baby?
Gabriel saw Ryan heading for him and his lip curled back, showing his teeth. Then his gazed snapped to one side. Close to the airlock entrance to the docked ferry, Tinker hugged the wall, trying to stay out of the fighting. He had no fighting skills, but held an antique revolver in his hand, muzzle pointing to the floor.
Horrified, Nayara mentally reached for the boy.
Do not use the gun!
The percussion bullets the antique used would drill right through the outer wall of the station, exposing them to the vacuum of space.
Then she remembered that Tinker was only human and did not have any communications devices implanted, either. There was no way to reach him other than shouting and he would not hear her.
Gabriel was bringing up his long-barrelled weapon, pointing it at Tinker. “T
inker!” she screamed uselessly.
Ryan had been waylaid by another psi, that he dealt with in two quick thrusts, before moving on. His sword blade was crimson now, and dripping blood. He had seen Gabriel’s new target and altered his path, but even Nayara could see he would not make it across the room in time. There were too many bodies, too much swirling violence.
Ryan leaned forward and jumped, to appear in the clear space behind Tinker. Then he stepped around the boy, shielding him.
Gabriel fired. There was no light, no emission marking the weapon’s launch, but psi and vampires near the trajectory path were thrown aside.
Nayara watched, her over-stressed heart banging in her chest, as Tinker and Ryan were both flung backwards to slam against the inner airlock door. And suddenly, she was there and Ryan was at her feet. She had jumped without intending to.
She crouched. Brenden, I need help. Ryan is down! She thrust the mental alert into the ether.
Tinker was scrabbling at the floor with his hands, his body jerking, while Ryan lay very still.
Once, a long time ago, Nayara had studied human emergency nursing and the principals of triage. Now, her hand automatically fell to Ryan’s neck, to find a pulse, even as she was stepping over Ryan to reach the distressed human, who must be dealt with first. She caught the boy’s face in her hands. “Tinker! Tinker, talk to me.”
His eyes were rolling back and his face was very red and sweating. He was panting, unable to draw oxygen. Hyperventilating. She couldn’t reach him mentally or verbally. Helplessly, she tried to calm him with her touch. She glanced up at the swirling violence in the room, keeping her guard up.
Demyan’s clear, sharp mental voice shouted in her mind. They’ve sabotaged the reactor! Everyone out! Evacuate the station!
Nayara bit her lip, watching as Tinker continued to flop and tear at the floor with his fingertips. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but he did not seem to be conscious.
Abruptly, he became rigid and still and one hand clutched at his heart. The tendons on his neck stood out like trip wires. Nayara tried to pry his clutching hand away, so that she could massage the heart, keep it going, but his hand was an iron claw, immoveable.
For thirty seconds he lay as taut as a steel bow, then he fell stringless to the floor once more. Nayara felt for his pulse.
I need help to evacuate, she called. I’m here. And she broadcast the mental image of where she was. And someone must carry Tally, Rob, Christian. She sent a thought-image of where they lay in their quarters.
Too many. Too many to carry.... That was Brenden’s worried sub-thought, one he probably had not intended to broadcast.
The fighting had not diminished despite the alarm Demyan had sent out. No vampire would disbelieve him, for it was impossible to lie convincingly in one’s mind. The psi, however, were not letting their quarry go.
Nayara moved to pick up Ryan and his sword. As she strained to haul him up against her chest in a position to jump from the station, Pritti appeared next to her.
The little woman sucked in a breath and clutched her head. The other hand flattened against the airlock door for support. She looked grey and haggard. “I’ll take Tinker,” she gasped.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded and held a hand flat over Tinker’s body. The body lifted into the air and rose to the perpendicular, the perfect position for Pritti to grasp him. She cried out, clutching her head again, but then shook it and stepped forward to wind her arms around Tinker. “Where to?” she called hoarsely.
Nayara showed her the place where she intended to jump to.
“See you there!” Pritti flexed her knees and was gone.
Nayara looked around the room once more, in time to see two psi land on a vampire’s chest, dropping him to the floor under their weight. A razor garrotte whipped around his neck and both psi gripped a handle each and yanked.
Nayara looked away quickly, unable to watch more. She closed her eyes, held Ryan to her and jumped.
Southwest Western Australia, 2263 A.D.
Cool night breezes touched her. Wind in tree tops.
“Nayara.” It was Pritti’s voice.
“Wait,” Nayara said, lying Ryan on the ground, then standing and watching the dark sky overhead. “Just wait.”
Pritti came and stood next to her, looking up. “It’s coming,” she whispered, after a few seconds.
The meltdown of the station’s fusion reactor was brighter and closer than Nayara expected. She shielded her eyes against the bright, false sun in the sky and turned away.
The station was no more.
“How many made it?” she wondered aloud.
Pritti was crying. “I don’t know. I can’t feel them all.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Spetsopoula, Greece. 2263 A.D. One week later.
Despite his size, Brenden’s landings were always as light as a feather. He was cat-like on his feet, so when the room coalesced into place around them, there was no disorientation.
Nia stepped out of Brenden’s arms, looking around the big room with interest.
“He won’t come in until he knows you’re here, in case he crowds the landing,” Brenden told her. “The main rooms are through that door there.” He pointed.
Nia nodded. “Thank you.”
Brenden stepped forward, giving himself room. “I’ll be getting back,” he said. He turned into another jump and was gone.
The room was distinctly larger without Brenden in it. She took in the pristine white stone walls and the ancient heavy dark beams overhead, the terracotta tiles underfoot. All very traditional Mediterranean decor that made her feel almost homesick, except for a complete lack of overblown Byzantine decorations, textiles and filigree. This was Greece and the room was minimalistic and...well, Spartan.
There was a large wood-grain desk—faux wood, she assumed—pushed quite close to the wall. To make room for arrivals, she realized. It was a modern desk, with built-ins, projectors, plug-ins and more.
This was Cáel’s study, then.
“Nia,” Cáel said, from behind her.
Her heart jumped all on its own. Nia turned.
Cáel stood in the doorway that Brenden had indicated led to the other areas of the house. He wore white casual pants and a white short sleeved shirt that was so old and had seen so many washings it was nearly see-through. The only other item he was wearing was a double gun holster, with a pair of laser pistols, one under each arm.
A bruise, faded to yellow now, coloured his cheek under one eye. And there was a deep cut writhing up one arm, healing beneath the gro-skin that had been sprayed over it.
“It’s a scratch, Nia. It’s healing,” he told her. He moved toward her quickly. “Don’t look like that. It just makes me feel like the biggest jerk in the world, Nia, don’t...” He kissed her and that was when she realized that she was trembling in reaction to the sight of his cuts and bruising, for he brought her up tight against him and he was the rock steady one.
Nia let herself cling to him, allowing herself to feel the weakness, the fear. When Cáel finally let the kiss end, she rested her head against his shoulder. “A whole week without either of you, in the midst of all this sadness and disaster. Cáel, I think I might have gone quite mad if I’d had to wait another day.”
He lifted her chin, making her look him in the eye. His expression was grave. “There’s a reason I made you wait, Nia.” He took her hands from around his neck and held onto one of them. “Come with me.”
He led her through the door he had come through. On the other side was a high vaulted dining/lounge/entertainment area that ran for eighty feet in length. It was cool and airy in here, for the roof soared for twenty five feet above the floor and big ceiling fans circled lazily. Plas-glass doors along the whole length of the room gave access to a white-walled patio that was almost as big as the room itself. The patio was shaded by a pergola that held up an abundant, riotous and thick growth of grape vines and bright pink fuchsias. The to
rrid sun was trying hard to scorch the flagstones there, but failing to do more than dapple them with shade.
Ryan was walking along the patio. Or rather, he was shuffling along with the help of a cane, which he leaned on heavily with one arm, while he swung his leg stiffly as he progressed down the long patio, concentrating hard.
Nia halted, a hand to her mouth, shocked into inner and outer stillness.
Cáel turned back to face her. “This is why I had you wait,” he said gently, his voice low. “You had enough to deal with, keeping the agency people together. He’s made rapid progress just in the last twelve hours. Twenty-four hours ago, he could barely move. He only woke thirty hours ago.”
“He’s been unconscious for five days?” Nia breathed. “What weapon could do that? To a vampire?”
“That is something you must find out, Nia,” Cáel replied. He tugged on her hand. “Come.”
He padded across the smooth terracotta tiles, his bare feet silent. Nia’s boot heels crunched loudly in comparison. She unbuttoned her heavy coat as she neared the doors. It wasn’t like she could really feel the overwhelming heat, but it was a bit uncomfortable.
As Cáel pushed the door open, she took the opportunity to shrug the coat off altogether, leaving her in just the black pants and top and boots that had been her working clothes for the last five days. She dropped the coat onto the outdoor table that sat next to the door as they stepped outside.
Ryan looked up as the door opened and came to a halt. When he saw her, he closed his eyes and took a quick, deep breath. He lifted his free arm and held it out to her.
Nia hugged him gingerly, afraid that she might overbalance him or hurt him. But Ryan’s arms—both of them—pulled her in tight against him. She heard the cane clatter onto the flagstones.
“Cáel said you got me off the station just before it blew,” Ryan said. He was shaking. “But the others...did everyone make it?”
Nia shook her head, sadness sweeping through her.
Ryan sighed. “Who?”
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