Perhaps they were. Wyatt stared at them, fascinated.
The incubus, Aithan, jogged up to them, his long curved knives in both hands. “As much as possible, we leave the vampeen alone. It’s the Grimoré we want. As soon as you see one of them, jump there and try to take it out.”
“Leave them alone?” Mia said, sounding outraged.
Alex put his hand on her shoulder. He looked sick with worry already and her bloodthirstiness wasn’t helping.
“We’re trying something,” Aithan said. “There hasn’t been any time to fill everyone in. After, we will. For now, focus on the Grimoré themselves.”
Wyatt nodded. “I have always hated the ugly fuckers. No problems,” he told Aithan.
Aithan nodded and moved on.
Wyatt turned to Alex and Mia before she could react and Alex responded. “I know you have to be here,” Wyatt told Mia. “I accept that we are useless if you’re not. Please, please, hang back behind us. Can you do that?”
“You’re better with a gun, anyway,” Alex added.
Mia sighed. “Truth is, I’m starting to waddle. This bump slows me down.” She pressed a hand against her belly. “I can watch your asses for you instead.”
“You’ll protect our backs while you’re doing it, right?” Wyatt asked.
She rolled her eyes. Alex grinned.
* * * * *
Zack nudged Beth’s arm, drawing her attention away from the hasty last minute conversations she was having with trinity people both in her head and face to face. “Look,” he said.
Materializing around and among the trinities were dozens of black-hooded elves, their tall figures almost invisible in the steadily deepening shadows.
Beth broke off in the middle of a sentence to look. Cairo, whom she had been talking to, also turned to see.
The elves, almost as if they had been cued, all dropped their cloaks. Out here in the middle of a field, there were few humans to care about their other-worldly features and clothing. Beneath, they wore the light armor and elegant robes of elvish warriors and each of them had a sword and a long-handled knife.
Beth sighed. “Amrod.” She hurried through the grass, her knives slapping her thighs, over to where the tall Elf was tightening his sword belt and checking his weapons.
Zack stretched his hearing. It was a challenge, even at this short distance, to hear them, because there were so many others around them talking in low voices, as they glanced toward the south end of the field where the vampeen were sitting.
Beth smiled at the senior elf. “Amrod, I appreciate you and your people’s assistance once more.”
“Your summons seemed urgent,” Amrod said stiffly.
“Every battle brings us one battle closer to the last one,” Beth told him. “Your help ensures we get to that next one.”
It was a subtle way of saying they couldn’t survive without the elves. Zack hid his amusement. Beth was handling Amrod perfectly. She was appealing to his vanity, which all elves had in bucketloads, including Lindal. That was why Zack went out of his way to tease him. It was so easy to get Lindal flustered and irritated.
Amrod bent stiffly, an almost regal nod. “While the gates remain open, it is prudent to guard them against invasion.”
“Or you could just help us deal with the Grimoré once and for all, then you wouldn’t have to guard them at all,” Beth pointed out.
Gloves off. Zack held his breath, straining to hear Amrod’s response.
“Each war has a turning point,” Amrod said, sounding old and wise. “This might be one of them. Shall we find out?”
It was no answer at all. Zack let himself breathe again, disappointed. He saw that Lindal was watching him, the wariness back in his eyes.
“Amrod won’t commit one way or another,” Lindal said. “It’s not his place to do that.”
“Perhaps it should be. He sounds frustrated,” Zack said.
“We all are,” Lindal said, shoving his sword back into the scabbard with a hard push.
* * * * *
Ángel nudged Remmy. “Hey, the fight is over here.”
Remmy stirred. “That barn structure….” He nodded toward the west.
“The one that is falling down?”
“There’s enough of it left for someone to hide behind,” Remmy said.
Octavia lowered the knife she had been balancing on her finger. She had taken weeks to settle on this one long-bladed weapon. Ángel had to admit she was very good with it. She looked at Remmy, then at the wreck of the barn. “Quite a few people could squeeze behind what’s left of the walls,” she said thoughtfully.
Ángel smiled. “Go for the Grimoré, yes?”
Remmy nodded again. “When we get a chance, yes. Watch yourselves. It is anyone’s guess what might happen when we try.”
There was an inhuman cry, rising up into the twilight, issuing from among the milling vampeen. It might have been a signal, for immediately, the vampeen began to lope toward them, their hands slapping the ground for speed and balance. The sounds they made were ferocious, filled with snarls and growls like nothing else on Earth.
Octavia let the knife drop and snatched the hilt out of the air with a flick of her wrist and gripped it.
“And so it begins,” Remmy breathed.
* * * * *
In the months and years the trinities had been facing off against the vampeen, all of them had become so much more skilled at dealing with them. Diego preferred his guns, only in close quarters, they were dangerous to more than just vampeen. Instead, he had trained himself to proficiency with a pair of knives. There was an artistry in using them, he had discovered, that rivaled any satisfaction the guns might bring. Thanks to his vampire speed and the experience he’d built up from numerous encounters, the work of killing the vampeen went smoothly.
It made a difference that Blake and Sera were with him. He couldn’t see them and didn’t have time to look for them. He could feel them, close by.
“Look for the Grimoré!” Blake shouted.
“Why?”
“To kill them!”
“We have to kill all the vampeen before we get to kill the big fuckers!” Diego shouted back.
“We can jump there. Look for them!”
Diego wondered if this was part of the thing that Blake had been stewing about since he had returned from Jasper that morning. With a mental shrug, he decided that sparing a quick, raking glance in between each vampeen wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he already suspected they were over in the ramshackle wooden hut thing at the edge of the field. He didn’t know why he thought so. It was pure gut instinct. He had learned to rely on his instincts long ago.
* * * * *
Declan refused to pick up a knife or a gun. He stayed behind Zoe and Cole, warning them of anyone approaching from the rear. When that happened, they all turned around a central axis, like a lazy Susan with Declan at the center, so that either Cole or Zoe could deal with the new threat.
It gave him time to scan the landscape, to look farther abroad than anyone else holding a weapon could spare the time to do.
He didn’t tap Zoe on the shoulder, because that would distract her, even for a tiny second, which would be enough for a vampeen to get in under her guard. Instead, he waited for a moment when she brought one down and the next had not launched its attack.
“Behind the old barn walls!” he shouted. “Can you jump us there?”
“Why?”
“The Grimoré are there.”
Zoe shot him a startled glance. Then, “Cole, as soon as you’re free, grab me.”
Cole didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped closer to the vampeen trying to claw at him and swung his fist in a fast, powerful upper cut. The vampeen was lifted off its feet and landed heavily.
Cole didn’t wait to see it land. He spun on his heel and swept Zoe into his free arm.
Declan had been waiting for it. He grabbed hold of Zoe’s shirt. She didn’t need to haul his weight, for he had none. As long as he maintained
contact, she would take him with her.
Another vampeen was galloping toward Zoe. Cole leaned forward, holding his arm across her body, the knife point held horizontally.
The vampeen ran onto the blade and halted with a grunt of surprise.
Zoe jumped.
* * * * *
The inside of the barn was identical to the field beyond, full of waving, thigh-high grasses.
Except there were Grimoré here. They were standing with odd stillness, facing each other. Declan didn’t have time to count. He thought there were six of them.
Cole raced forward, in the vision-defeating blur of a vampire at full speed. The wind from his passage lifted Zoe’s red locks. She was already heading for the fuckers herself.
Neither of them made it. As soon as they got close, all six of the Grimoré disappeared.
A shout went up from beyond the barn. “There! There! Murphy! Grab the bastard!”
“No, here!”
Declan recognized the voice. It was Seaveth’s.
“Back,” he urged Zoe and Cole. “Back outside! They jumped out there!”
Cole turned and ran out through the space where the barn doors had once been, straight out into the battle beyond. Zoe, who had not moved as far toward the Grimoré as Cole had, raced back to Declan, gripped his arm and jumped.
* * * * *
They landed right next to Cole, who was already struggling with two vampeen, a hand to each throat. Just beyond the pair stood one of the Grimoré, who was watching Cole with a blank, expressionless white face. The eyes were soulless and huge.
As Zoe lunged forward and buried her knife in the shoulder of one of Cole’s pair, the Grimoré vanished.
It was only because it reappeared in Declan’s line of sight that he noticed it. Far away, on the other side of the writhing and toiling mass of bodies, the Grimoré materialized.
Cora, Aithan and Rhys were closest.
“Seaveth, alert Cora!” Declan yelled, for Beth was only a few paces away, standing with a bloody pair of knives, her chest heaving.
She glanced at Cora.
Cora’s blonde head whipped around to sight the Grimoré. Aithan leapt at the thing with incredible power, his knife plunging down as he did.
The Grimoré vanished again.
Declan drew in a sharp breath, scanning the field.
All over the edges of the battle, the Grimoré were vanishing and reappearing, every time someone got close.
He looked at Beth. She must have felt his gaze, for she glanced back at him. Her brows lifted.
Yeah, very interesting, Declan agreed silently.
Someone screamed. It wasn’t a human, or anything that had once been human and it wasn’t vampeen. The sound was unearthly, in a high, pure, wind chime kind of way. The stress and fear in the voice was unmistakable. There were words in the scream, too. They were not words Declan understood.
He didn’t have hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Instead, an atavistic shudder ran through him as he looked in the direction of the scream. Zoe gasped, too, There were vampeen in front of her and she didn’t look up.
“Who was that?” Cole demanded, as he swung his knife.
On the far side of the battlefield, farther to the south from where Cora, Aithan and Rhys were fighting, was Amrod, the senior elf. He was standing very straight and tall, looking out ahead of him. Not even his gaze was moving.
At least a dozen elves were trying to fight their way over to him, calling in ululating cries that made Declan shiver all over again.
Something moved behind Amrod and Declan understood. There was a Grimoré standing right behind the elf, who was tall enough to mask him. The Grimoré had a grip on Amrod’s arm and throat. As Declan watched, the Grimoré shifted his long fingers, finding a grip, then yanked his arm outward.
Declan saw the first spurt of blood and looked away, sickened.
The same high pitched, almost inaudible cry went up, this time from a dozen or more elvish throats.
Declan had to look. He swung his gaze back.
The front of Amrod’s elvish clothing, which had already been liberally daubed in the black vampeen blood, was now sodden with his own very red blood. As Declan looked, Amrod crumpled.
The Grimoré behind him vanished.
So did the others, all at once. They didn’t reappear, either. He looked behind him, through the barn doors. They weren’t there.
“Defense only!” Seaveth shouted and he could feel the command rolling through him.
Cole dropped his knife and stepped back, away from the vampeen he had been about to gut.
The vampeen halted, too. It blinked. Declan could see the eyes, which, under the red, looked quite human.
Then it turned and ran in the long, loping and uneven gallop that the vampeen used. Despite how clumsy it looked, the pace ate up the distance.
They were all turning and running. Declan watching them drain away from the center of the battlefield like water poured over an upturned bowl. Within seconds the area where the trinities and the elves stood was empty of vampeen, as the last of them hurried away through the trees.
“Somebody help me!”
“That’s Sera,” Zoe breathed.
Sera was on her knees, Diego beside her. In front of them, Blake laid on the flattened and trampled grass, writhing in agony. Blood covered one side of him, from the neck to his waist.
“Oh, shit,” Declan breathed.
Zoe spun toward him, her arm slapping his middle and she jumped, almost the instant she made contact with him.
The field rematerialized around them. Blake was at their feet. Declan dropped down beside him and took a grip on the man’s arm, trying to control the squirming. Blake was panting, his eyes closed.
Sera looked at Declan, her face drawn. “It bit him,” she said helplessly.
Declan steeled himself against the rush of fear that gave him.
“We have to stop the bleeding,” Diego said, sounding just as shocked and frightened as Sera.
“No, he needs to bleed,” Declan said quickly. “The more he bleeds out, the better. Does anyone know what blood type he is?”
“AB Negative,” Diego said woodenly.
Only the rarest type out there.
Zoe pulled on Declan’s arm. “I have coordinates from Beth. We have to go. Now.”
Declan reached to pick up Blake. Diego pushed his hands aside. “I’ll do that.”
Zoe gripped Sera’s arm and hauled her to her feet. She held her face. “Did you get the location from Beth?” she asked, her voice sharp and commanding. Declan knew she was trying to cut through Sera’s shock.
Sera blinked.
Zoe shook her. “Sera!”
The elvish woman shuddered and sighed. “I have them,” she whispered.
“Take Blake there now,” Zoe snapped again. She didn’t wait to see if Sera processed that. She turned to Declan. “You need to prepare.” She did the same stomach-slapping football tackle, taking him off his feet and jumping at the same time.
Chapter Ten
It was already dark in New York and the interior of the abandoned warehouse was blazing with light. In the center of the open space was a circle of heavy-duty plastic stretched on frames, creating a sterile area. The lights focused on the area.
One of the frames had been pulled aside and Zack stood next to it, waiting for them.
Declan stepped into the circular room. It was an operating theatre in all but name. Around the emergency bed was a doctor’s dream list of equipment. Scanners, diagnostics, trays of tools and a locker on wheels that held an entire ER’s worth of drugs.
Declan rolled up his sleeves. Bacteria and viruses didn’t cling to him anymore, so there was no need to sterilize or wear gloves. “Where’s Blake?” he said sharply.
Zoe was tying a surgical gown over her bloody clothes. “Coming.”
There was a sound outside the plastic frames. Muted panic, hysteria held barely in check.
Diego strode u
p to the bed, Blake in his arms. He put the man on the bed. Blake was writhing still, and Diego held him there with sheer force.
“Benzodiazepine,” Declan said quickly. “Ten milligrams.”
Zoe nodded, opening the drug cabinet. Her hands were filthy. Blake had more serious issues than unsterile hands touching him.
She handed Declan the dose in a syringe.
“Let me get at his arm, Diego,” Declan said.
Diego picked up Blake’s arm, tore the shirt from wrist to shoulder, then clamped down on both shoulder and hand, keeping the arm outstretched and still.
Declan injected the dose into the big vein. “Zoe, see if there is a direct transfusion pump. Diego, you can sense blood types?”
Diego didn’t take his gaze off Blake’s face. He nodded.
“Is anyone in the vicinity a direct match? Diego!”
He blinked. “Not here.” His voice was hoarse.
“Where, then?”
When Diego didn’t answer, Declan grabbed his face and made him look at him directly. “Who is a match?”
Diego blinked again. “There’s a family in the hunters Wyatt recruited. Ronny and his squads are working the Keys. Cairo had to leave them there.” His gaze shifted inward as he started to think properly again. “Mia’s trinity has one.”
“Get them,” Declan told him. “You and Sera and anyone else who can jump. Go!” He pushed Diego toward the exit space, where Zack was standing guard.
Beth was tying a clean gown around her waist and Zoe was holding gloves out for her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Declan said, gripping Blake’s shoulders and holding him down on the bed so he didn’t thrash himself over the edge.
“Sera can’t help. I can,” Beth told him.
“You’ve no medical training.”
“She’s the calmest person here right now, including you and me,” Zoe told him. Her eyes were huge with fear.
True. Declan could feel the panic flowing deep inside, beneath the immediate medical concerns.
“Set up an IV,” he told Zoe. “Saline to start, with the sedative.”
“We could just knock him out,” Beth suggested.
Declan shook his head. “Not yet. As hard as it is to watch, the more he moves about, the harder his heart pumps, the more he bleeds, which means the less of his tainted blood remains inside him.”
Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) Page 9