"A carrot?” the girl asked, seeming to almost flow into a sitting position. Without loosening her grasp on his throat even the slightest bit, he noticed. His gaze involuntarily traveled from her face to her breasts, apple round and pressing against the fabric of the white tee shirt.
"A type of vegetable. It's a figure of speech,” the voice explained. “Basically about as smart as your average garden produce."
"Oh. Why not a fruit?"
"A fruit's something else."
"Oh."
Who were these people? The girl wasn't the one he'd been guarding for the last few days. She looked like her. Hell, she even sounded like her. But one thing he knew almost immediately after she'd grabbed him—this girl wasn't human. She wasn't even alive.
He felt the bite of the steel barrel at the base of his skull. “What does the old man want with her?” the male voice asked.
Like I'm going to tell you, was Armageddon's initial thought. The woman's icy gaze bored through the front of him while the cold gun barrel chiseled through the back. “He thinks he's dangerous,” the woman remarked absently. “Do you want to show him what dangerous is?"
"Sounds like he could use the lesson,” the male voice purred. Skin like icy silk pressed against his cheek as the male leaned close. He caught whiff of a slight, almost reptilian scent, like a drying snakeskin in a dank cave. He shifted his gaze slightly and caught sight of the man—no, boy—out of the corner of his eye.
Not alive! A shudder of pure atavistic fear ran up his legs and his back, centering like a single spike where the pistol barrel bore against the back of his skull.
A hand cold as a corpse's wrapped around and flowed across his abdomen, slowly sliding upward and across his chest. “You're a full meal deal,” the male murmured softly. “A bubbling cauldron of electric tea waiting to be tapped."
He saw the boy grin, saw the white gleaming fangs glistening wetly at the corners of his mouth. “We could feed on him for years,” he told the woman. “We can't kill him—he can't even get the disease. His masters couldn't have given us a better gift. The blood of an immortal. Forever."
"You'll never hold me,” Armageddon grunted, but he heard the terror behind his words.
"No?” A whisper of silk sheets against bare flesh, the voice flayed his confidence like a surgeon's scalpel. “We are both magi, Armageddon. We are the things that even the things in the dark run screaming from."
"Do you want me to hurt him yet?” the woman asked, fingers digging a little deeper. The faintest trickle, a tiny rivulet, ran down his neck beneath the indentation of her index finger. “He excites me."
The pressure eased slightly and he found himself panting around the tiny blades pressing into his throat. “I will bind him first. Then we can spirit him away to somewhere cold and dark, chain him with unbreakable manacles of power, and drink our fill."
The woman laughed brightly. That in itself was more chilling than all the threats they'd whispered into his brain. “We will make you curse the day you were made an immortal, Armageddon,” the woman said softly. “And rue the day you thought to lay your filthy hands on me."
* * * *
Amanda's unconscious body thrown casually across one shoulder, Ben tore through the door into the garage as if it were made of crepe paper. A security guard leaped to his feet, hand streaking for the gun at his side as he tried to push away from the cluttered desk some fifteen feet into the garage. Ben snatched a large socket wrench off the pegboard to his left and hurled it with bone-breaking force and laser-guided accuracy. It smashed into the man's elbow and sent the pistol flying even as the weapon started to ascend.
He cleared the distance between them in a single leap, swatting the desk aside. It flipped up and shattered against the back wall. Ben surged forward and leveled the guard with a crippling front kick to his midsection and a casual sweep of his free hand that sent the man sprawling into the shards of the broken desk.
Keys. Need keys. His gaze scraped the room, spotted three sets lying in the ruins of the desk. He crouched next to the groaning guard and scooped up a set, turning to survey the handful of automobiles crouched in the garage's dim interior.
A glance at the keys revealed that the ones he held were marked with a Toperov Falcon insignia. The Eastern European hybrid sports-car had become a serious status symbol in the last five years. It only figured the old goat would have one.
He spotted it with a quick glance. In the dark it was black, with a slightly lighter convertible top. It crouched there like a bird of prey waiting to be freed of its jesses. He pressed the control module, the car gave a chirp, and both the passenger and driver doors popped open.
He shoved her into the passenger seat and strapped her in. Two minutes later the car was streaking for the front gate. He hit the breaks and brought the car to a shuddering halt scant feet from the huge wrought-iron portal.
He fumbled around the carved wood dashboard, looking for a button for the gate. There had to be something here. His finger found a sharply raised disk hidden just under the face of the dash. A quick press and the gates slid smoothly open.
He accelerated swiftly onto the street, streaking southward into the pre-dawn night.
* * * *
"Come here, you sneaky little bastard!” Jaz shrieked, diving after the tiny, foot tall imp. It leaped out of her path with a fierce cackle and flung itself six feet to the top of her computer desk. It snatched up a pen and hurled it at her like a thick javelin. She watched it arc down to the floor with a mildly amused look on her face. “Nice try."
It stuck its tiny little tongue out at her and flung itself towards the door. “Uh-uh,” she said, trying to throw up a barrier to keep it inside.
It ignored the ward, walking straight through it and the door. Swearing under her breath, Jaz moved to follow. And found herself lying on her back on her dorm room floor, half-stunned, a concerned-looking Quickfingers staring down at her. “You okay, Boss?"
"Did you get the license number of that truck that hit me?” she asked with a groan. She pushed herself into a sitting position and peered around the room. “Where'd it go?"
"I don't know, Boss. It got away."
"And you didn't follow it?"
"Uh-uh. It scares me."
"Dammit!” Jaz levered herself to her feet and blew away the ward, then threw the door open. She dashed through, careening off after running straight into Baraz's thickly muscled chest. “Shit!"
He caught her arm in a grasp like a vice before she fell over. “Where were you going in such a hurry?"
She hesitated, then sighed. This was Baraz, after all. She trusted him. “The little imp just got away. Walked through my ward and the door and vanished. I tried to chase it and forgot about the ward. Knocked me clean out.” She glanced over her shoulder at Quickfingers, who stood in the doorway. “How long was I out?"
He shrugged. “A couple of minutes, Boss."
"Well, while I was out that damn little thing could've gone anywhere. You haven't seen it, have you?"
Baraz shook his head. “Nope. The little blue guy didn't come out here to wreak havoc. Can't you find it?” he asked Quickfingers suspiciously.
"Hey—what am I, my offspring's keeper?"
Baraz shot Jaz a disgusted look. “Not exactly maternal, is he?"
She gave an undignified snort. “Near as I can tell, he's afraid of the damn thing. Does that sound very maternal—or paternal—to you?"
"Hardly. We'd better track that thing down before it gets into too much trouble for us to bury."
She nodded. Athena was already pissed at her. This wasn't going to help matters any. “I'm with you. Coming, Quickfingers?"
The imp shook his head. “Uh-uh. I think I'll stay here ... just in case it comes back."
"Yeah. Sure.” Shaking her head, she followed Baraz down the hallway. This day couldn't get a hell of a lot worse, by her estimation.
* * * *
It took five minutes for Ben to get lost. He didn't know
Tacoma well enough to cruise the back roads out of the north end. He found himself turned around and cruising near the entrance to Point Defiance Park. He'd heard stories of the place, and had been tempted to do some running down here, but had never had the chance.
He made a quick U-turn and cruised south up Ruston Way. The nightlife was out thick tonight. His preternatural senses picked out the real vampires hidden amongst the Goths. For most humans it would have been camouflage enough. He spotted them almost effortlessly.
He cruised on past, ignoring the curious stares that rose to follow his passage. They could sense him, too.
He followed Ruston Way along the waterfront, then into the city. But he cut the wrong way as he approached the freeway and ended up sailing eastward. He took the cutoff to 509 and jumped off the freeway at the first opportunity.
He more or less recognized the area, but he was all turned around. “Goddamit!” he swore loudly, then glanced over to the passenger side to see if Amanda was stirring yet. She wasn't. Whatever they'd given her had to be pretty potent. He wondered how long she'd been out.
He caught a flash of something through the upper part of the windshield. He jammed on the brakes as something ripped through the convertible top, shredding it away like so much tissue paper. He accelerated under an overpass and cut a hard left against the light. The car reeled from a powerful blow and he jerked the wheel to the right, wheels shrieking. He saw the Emerald Queen Casino lights to his right and cut sharply into the parking lot, wheeling the vehicle into a random parking stall. He reached over and tore through the seatbelt holding Amanda in with a flick of one long claw. He reverted it back into a human hand and snatched her out of the seat.
He sprang out and onto the hood through the tattered roof. Cradling her in his arms, he leaped down and sprinted for the casino doors. He didn't bother to follow the rows between the cars, simply vaulting the fencing that separated each tier from the next. He saw a huge shape swooping in from beneath the overcast sky and ducked, feeling the wind from its passage brush through his hair like ghostly fingers.
"Call the cops!” he roared as he sprinted past the security detail at the front door. He charged past the information booth and cut left, scooting up the stairs toward the gaming tables.
* * * *
Dusk landed in the parking lot and let a low growl escape her throat. From the surrounding shadows emerged Hades, a self-satisfied smile warping his otherwise handsome features. “So he thinks he can escape by diving into a crowd of other humans?” He gave a dry chuckle, not like he was actually amused by the thought, but like he saw the chance for some unholy fun.
He raised his hands, baring his wrists. The coiled tattoos on his arms began to glow, shifting and flowing across his night black skin. He snapped his arms out, sending the silver tendrils arcing outward, flying toward the northeast. “Let's see how the mortals like having their fun interrupted."
The woman's scream echoed across the parking lot. Heads snapped up and two or three men started jogging in that direction. One, an off-duty officer from the TPD, reached into his jacket and pulled his service weapon out as he broke into a sprint.
He cleared the corner of the row and froze, blinking in amazement as he gazed down toward the exit onto Bay Street. He could see a crowd gathering along the fence line, moving away from the old Indian graveyard.
He ran forward, up the slope, and reached the parking lot summit. There was something strange about the crowd down there. Aside from the fact he couldn't think of any reason they'd be down there, there were moving oddly. Shuffling. Like zombies from one of those old movies.
He skidded to a halt, heart pounding as he realized that the figures moving through the wispy tendrils of fog were indeed the walking dead. He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and dialed the direct line into the PAC offices at Shea Industries.
There was no way he was going to try to tackle the undead by himself. He'd been on the force for nearly fifteen years. When he'd first come out of the academy the worst thing he had to worry about was a freaked out junkie. Now it was monsters and zombies.
No thanks.
* * * *
Ben laid Amanda across the table, shoving cards and chips out of the way. When one of the security team ran up, apparently meaning to stop him, he turned swiftly and froze the man with a brutal glare. “Back off,” he snarled. “Clear the floor,” he snapped. “Get everyone someplace secure."
"Someplace secure?” the security guy repeated. “You're kidding, right? Do you know how many people we have here right now?"
"No, I don't. And I doubt you do either. Get as many people as you can upstairs—” he jerked a thumb toward the two staircases some distance away—"and the rest in the most defendable position you can find."
"Are we under attack?"
"It's possible,” Ben grunted. He ran a calloused finger down the side of Amanda's face. “See if you have a doctor in the house."
The security man nodded and rushed off. Ben swept the room with a sharp gaze, watching with some satisfaction as the other security personnel started herding people toward the stairs. He had a feeling someone wasn't real happy to let Amanda go, and that even being someplace as public as the casino wouldn't stop them from coming after what they wanted.
He had no intention of letting them have her.
* * * *
The immortal's shriek undulated for what seemed like forever, reverberating through the house with agonizing force. The servants had fled hours ago and here, in the pre-dawn chill, only the sound of the immortal's pain and terror, along with the occasional chime from the clock in the hall, broke the brittle silence.
"Put him out,” Raven directed. “He's told us all he knows."
Mandy nodded and punched him in the side of the head. He groaned and collapsed into unconsciousness.
"Not quite what I had in mind,” Raven remarked, raising an eyebrow. “But I suppose it worked well enough."
He leaned down and lifted the huge immortal effortlessly, pulling him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry position. “I have a perfect place to put him. It's not far from my own daytime resting place. As long as we secure him well, he won't escape."
She made a dismissive gesture. “This is your world. You can call the shots. For now."
He chuckled. “Does this mean you're going to stop following my lead once you get comfortable?"
"Oh, I don't know. Depends on whether you start making stupid suggestions,” she returned with a sharp glance. “So far they've all been good, so I don't see much point in arguing them."
"Great. So, in the meantime, before you decide to whack me over the head and take over, let's get the hell out of here. I really don't want to be here if some PAC unit shows up. Or—even worse—a Crimson Sash team."
They left the house behind, two phantoms vanishing into the darkened wind outside just as the security detail they'd subdued earlier were coming to their senses. A quick call to 911 was made but by the time a unit could arrive, the vampires were long gone.
Nineteen
"We've found it!” the cop cried out, waving from the end of the building. “In here!"
Jaz pulled up and stifled a groan. The Brown and Haley candy factory? So not a good place for the little impling to go to ground. “If it starts eating..."
Baraz grunted his assent. He'd already figured it out—if the creature started eating and managed to eat enough, it would do the same thing Quickfingers had done. Then they'd be dealing with two little imps. And from two came four, and from four, sixteen.
Both glanced up as three cop cars wailed by down on Puyallup Avenue, heading north. “Three cars,” Baraz murmured. “Must be serious."
"Not like we don't have an emergency on our hands,” Jaz reminded him curtly. “I don't know what we're going to do about it, though. If we go in there, it's just going to run away again. If there's a way to trap it, or hold it prisoner, I sure as hell don't know anything about it."
"I'm going to call Athen
a and Thoth in. They're our only chance of putting a lid on this thing before it gets loose and infests the whole damn city."
She didn't want to hear that. She really didn't want to hear that. Athena and Thoth were both already angry with her. To bring something like this to them and expect them to fix it? That would go over like a stone volleyball.
But Baraz was right. If they didn't call in help when they absolutely needed it, she would have unleashed a scourge on the city—if not the country—at least as bad as that of the goblins. If not worse. Most of the goblins had at least accepted Kali's leadership. These creatures would be without any kind of authority to rein them in. No telling what they'd get into. “Do it. We don't have a choice."
"Good call.” He touched something attached to his wrist. “Athena. Deryk here. We've got a big problem."
* * * *
Most of the bodies were beyond recognition, no longer corpses but skeletons ravaged by time. A few moldering corpses could be seen among them, but most wore as little flesh as clothing. They'd smashed through the main doors and tried to gain entrance into the lobby, but so far the defenders had managed to forestall their advance by creating a barricade with the gaming tables and uprooted slot machines.
They were thankfully mindless, trying to use brute force they didn't really possess to claw through the obstacles in their way. Ben had snapped off a table leg and would beat any appendage he could reach into bone dust.
They'd tried to do the same at every entrance, but more than a few patrons had panicked and tried to rush out through the back door, into the waiting arms of something apparently more horrible even than the skeletons and zombies. Ben didn't know what it was, but the screams that rose from that side of the casino sent chills down his spine.
He started to run that direction but was stopped by one of the security men, who grabbed his arm. “What about your lady friend?” he asked, pointing to where Amanda lay on the stairs behind them. They still hadn't found a doctor, and she had yet to even stir.
He hadn't shifted yet, which he figured could only be a good thing. If they suddenly found themselves confronted with a monster inside the casino, they'd probably fall apart on the spot.
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