“A bit unnecessary, ma chérie.” Ysabel said quietly as we went in,
“Vermin.” Beth replied, unrepentant, “he’s lucky I didn’t turn his brain to soup.” She turned to look at us, “he sold his own family out, you know. To prove his ‘loyalty’. Ugh.”
“We can’t torture prisoners, Beth!” I said, aghast.
“Whatever. Do you want to know what I found out or not?”
I sighed in time with Nathan, and waved a hand at her to continue.
“They’re planning on hitting a hospital,” she said, looking with distaste at the prisoner, who was still moaning quietly.
Nathan’s eyebrows shot up,
“What would they want with a hospital?!”
Beth shrugged, “easy prey, I guess. And it would seriously damage human morale; double win!” she finished with false glee.
I blew out a long breath,
“You know which one, I take it?”
She nodded.
“Well that’s something. What’s bothering me though, is why the ferals would tell this guy about their plans.”
“He works as a janitor there, it seems his job was going to be to make sure that the exits were closed and locked so people couldn’t escape.”
“Hmm. OK. Well what would you suggest?”
Beth looked at Ysabel briefly, then turned back to Nathan and I,
“It seems odd to target a hospital, certainly. Besides the large amount of food inside,” I grimaced at her terminology, “there’s no tactical advantage to it, and they wouldn’t be able to hold it long. Hospitals aren’t exactly built to be defensible. And there is always the possibility that it’s another ploy of Archers.” she broke off, frowning, and Ysabel took over.
“I think it’s probably worth taking seriously though. If we don’t, and then find we gambled wrong...” she trailed off, letting her statement hang in the air.
“Mmm,” Nathan grumbled, “thems some seriously high stakes. I say we evacuate everyone who can be moved, quiet like, so the bastards don’t notice, and then wait and see who turns up.”
“Agreed,” I said, and turned my attention to the details and delegation of tasks. We had three days to organise ourselves, and I felt some serious pressure to get it right.
Chapter 32
Beth
We were ranged across the street in front of the hospital, waiting for the ferals to make their appearance. I figured that our informant was probably telling the truth, given that the information had been taken directly from his brain, removing his lying tongue from the equation, but we had snipers crowding the roofs of the hospital buildings keeping lookout in all directions just in case. My ears picked up the first signs of movement from up the street just as Ysabel nudged me to let me know that she had heard it too. As it got closer though, we realised that something wasn’t right… I cocked my head, trying to work out the problem. Ysabel and I hit on it almost simultaneously, as usual; there was none of the ferals usual racket, and the footsteps were even and heavy - there were no wings giving them a lift. Humans then. I squinted, trying to see, but they were hidden by a slight rise in the road. I blew out a breath and shook my head in exasperation. Bloody ferals never fought fair… I sprung backwards over the soldiers’ heads, landing next to Michael to tell him about the development,
“They’re using thralls.” I told him bluntly,
“Uh, thralls? Explain please.”
“Oh, sorry. They’re humans under the control of vampires. They have no free will and they will be armed.”
“But they’re civilians?” he asked, frowning at me,
“I assume so, yes.”
“Shit. Well, there’s not much we can do about that unfortunately. If they shoot at us, we’ll shoot at them, don’t worry.” He gave me a tight smile, more like a grimace, so I nodded and jumped back to my place in front of the troops. As I landed, I heard him making his way more slowly round to join me, obviously wanting to take a look at the thralls himself.
The approaching force was just coming into view of Ysabel and I when he came up beside me. I shifted casually, my expanded pupils bringing the thralls into sharper focus, then stared, appalled. I heard Ysabel’s gasp as she saw them closely too,
“Mon dieu…”
Michael looked at us sharply, sensing our changed demeanours,
“What? What’s happened?”
Chapter 33
Michael
Something had seriously spooked Beth and Ysabel… Ysabel’s wings and fangs had sheathed again, seemingly by reflex, and even Beth had a look of shock on her face, which made me feel slightly queasy. They were both standing utterly still, probably having a conversation between themselves psychically. My worry was momentarily overtaken by irritation at being kept out of the loop.
Suddenly Beth took off, winging towards the approaching humans, she flew high and slowly, circling over them. She swooped down a couple of times, provoking scattered bursts of gunfire, then headed back towards us quicker than my eyes could follow. The next thing I knew, she was next to me, looking grimmer than ever. Ysabel covered her mouth with one hand, and even her eyes normalised, wide and haunted. I grabbed Beth’s shoulder and shoved her, forcing her slight form to turn towards me.
“Tell me what is going on, now!” I glared down at her furiously, bullying myself into not looking away from those fathomless, unblinking black eyes.
“They’re children.” She said quietly, and completely without inflection. I felt my face drop, and I spun back round to stare down the road at the group of people. I snatched up my binoculars so that I could make out the individuals. It was about fifty children, ranging in age from 5 or 6 to about 12, all toting guns of various descriptions. They marched completely silently, the only sound that of their combined footsteps, and as they came closer still I could see that their faces were blank and impassive, their personalities suppressed by the ferals controlling them. I lowered my gun slowly, unsure what to do.
Beth and Ysabel dithered, talking between themselves again, then I heard Ysabel speak aloud in a low, agonised whisper,
“I can’t Beth, I’m sorry…” Beth raised one hand, touching Ysabel’s cheek,
“I know, and I would never ask it of you.” She smiled sadly, and a sick feeling roiled in my gut as I realised what Beth was about to do. I dived forward with a shout, surprising the men around me,
“NO!” but I was too late, Beth was in the air before the word had even passed my lips. I jerked to a stop with a gasp, feeling horribly impotent as I watched Beth fold her wings and drop into the centre of the group of child thralls.
She landed in a crouch and opened her wings out, scything them round in a circle, mowing down the children like wheat and exploding a crimson mist into the air as they opened fire on her. I found myself hoping that a bullet would catch her in the heart, but her combat armour was too good, and she was too quick. She continued her devastatingly graceful march; wings and blades making short work of the small bodies around her as bullets ripped through her own. The children didn’t scream or pause; when one fell, another would take its place, I could only hope that their minds were subverted enough to the vampires’ will that they didn’t know what was happening. I could hear men, some of whom had children of their own, crying out behind me, and the sound of retching as one of them lost their dinner onto the already filthy road. Hardened though we were by the rigours of war, this was a type of carnage that we had never been witness to before. Glancing over at Ysabel, I saw that in her own quiet way, she seemed as traumatised at this as any of us. She had remained in her human form, tears were streaming down her face and her arms were wrapped tight around herself.
I dropped to one knee, stunned, as Beth finally halted her brutal dance, coming to a stop amongst the gore. She looked around her, swords held down by her sides, dripping blood. Throwing her head back, she roared; a vicious, blood curdling sound that I half recognised from when we had fought the ferals. But the sound that the ferals made was a watered
down, perverted version of the pure, audible fury that was Beth’s. Bunching her wings together and raising them up above her head, she vibrated them, clashing the ribs of cartilage in them together to create a harsh, clattering sound that wove through her war cry. After a moment, Ysabel stepped forward out of the ranks, shifting with tears still wet upon her face and raised her own wings up, joining in with Beth’s challenge with a shriek that made all the men around her cringe away.
A jabbering drifted down from the sky, signalling the arrival of the ferals, they must have been waiting on the high rooftops of the buildings surrounding us. They flew haphazardly, in more of a controlled fall than actual flight; their stunted, shredded wings slowing them down just enough that they wouldn’t splatter on impact with the ground. I climbed back to my feet quickly as Ysabel spread her wings and jumped straight up in the air, flying up to meet the ferals in a clash of fangs and metal. Beth had gone up to meet them too, and they swirled and dived amongst the descending ferals. Bodies and their parts raining down to the ground. I shouted a command to the men, and they raised their guns as one, pointing them upwards at the writhing mass of vampires.
“FIRE!” I yelled, loosing a hail of bullets with a strangled war cry of my own, hearing every other man’s weapon discharge at the same time. We fired indiscriminately, uncaring as to whether we hit ferals or Beth and Ysabel.
The vampires landed a little way down the road, and immediately charged towards us, half running and half flying. Their jaws hanging open, slavering blood and saliva. Beth and Ysabel extracted themselves from the knot of tattered wings and streaked back towards us, placing themselves in their usual positions at either side and just in front of the front row. A stream of bullets slammed into Beth’s back as she landed and she staggered forwards slightly with a growl, her head whipping round to glare back at the men. Hissing, she shook her wings out and refocused herself, concentrating on the fight at hand.
The remainder of the ferals were dispatched without too much trouble and amazingly, with no losses on our part. They seemed to have been banking on their sick game with the children to do their work for them. I ran a hand through my hair as I surveyed the clean-up… the men having set aside their weapons to drag the ferals bodies into a large heap. Beth and Ysabel were assisting them, gathering the bodies that had ended up further away, picking them up and flying them over to the heap to dump them unceremoniously on the top.
Turning my back on the unpleasant scene, I walked up the road to an even more unpleasant one. So far, the bodies of the children had been left untouched. Every one of them had been neatly beheaded. Beth had, at least, made their deaths quick, but that didn’t prevent the bile rising in my throat as I looked at them. I stood, staring at them, trying not to think about where their parents were, the worry and grief that they must now be feeling. I walked back slowly, watching impassively as Beth turned and disappeared into the clouds, shortly followed by Ysabel.
Chapter 34
Beth
Ysabel caught up with me easily, ever the faster flyer. She didn’t say anything, simply gliding along next to me, touching my wing tip with hers. We headed towards our apartment slowly, mostly just relying on thermals to keep us in the air, the energy from our earlier feed all but exhausted.
We alighted on the balcony and slipped inside, with me making a beeline for the shower room and Ysabel peeling off to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle to make her customary, post-battle coffee, then followed me into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching me undress, concern etched into every line of her body. I threw my clothes in a pile in one corner and stepped into the cubicle, turning the thermostat up as high as it would go. A low hiss escaped me as the scalding water streaked down my body, cleansing me of the stain of innocence; the most recent sin I had committed running red from my skin, dying the water in the bottom of the cubicle a murky, diluted crimson. Ysabel’s peace caressed my mind, although even she was a little disturbed by the evening’s events, her thoughts slightly spiky around the edges,
“It wasn’t your fault, ma chérie. You only did what you had to do” a whisper through my consciousness,
“I know. I do not blame myself. I am angry that they would reduce me to that. I am angry that they are so arrogant as to think that they have the right to rule this world. I am just… angry.” I growled under my breath, unable to voice properly what I meant, then spoke aloud.
“The kettle has boiled. Go make your coffee.” Ysabel left quietly, and I closed my eyes to listen to her moving around the kitchen, the sounds muffled by the percussive tap-tapping of the shower against the glass of the cubicle. I lathered my hair with my favourite cinnamon shampoo, which I used because it reminded me of the scent that clung naturally to Ysabel’s skin and hair. The sweet smelling bubbles washed the blood and dirt from my long curls and filled the room with their aroma, dousing my mind and making me feel more settled. I spun the thermostat round the other way, switching the water from scalding to a more comfortable temperature. I rinsed the suds from my hair, feeling more like myself, then stepped out of the cubicle, pulling the cord to turn the shower off as I went. I didn’t bother with a towel, just squeezing my hair out, wringing as much of the water out as I could then shaking my head vigorously so it fell in damp, rat-tail strands around my shoulders.
I padded out of the bathroom and across to our bedroom, leaving a wet trail across the wooden floor. Ysabel raised an eyebrow at me as I passed where she had perched herself on the sofa with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, wearing clean, loose fitting clothes. I smirked as her eyes flickered down the length of my body and her thoughts spun off kilter for a moment, distracted,
“Glad to see you’re feeling better, ma chérie” I felt her smile in my mind, along with a wave of lusty affection that made me sigh, irritated that my business for the evening wasn’t over and I couldn’t spend it here with her. I dressed quickly, pulling on a plain black, knitted turtleneck and loose blue jeans, stamping my feet into a pair of skate shoes without bothering to untie them.
Ysabel was on her feet when I went back into the living room, standing by the open balcony doors. She looked around as I approached her and smiled gently,
“Good luck…” she said, sombrely, reaching out to grasp the front of my top and pull me into her. She kissed me deeply, and I couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound escaping me in a sigh. My resolve to go crumbling, I slid one hand around the nape of her neck, tangling my fingers in her silken hair and revelling as always in the feel of her soft lips on mine as electric tension crackled through our bond, igniting both of us. She pressed her body briefly, teasingly, against mine then pulled away with a grin and shoved me, hard. I was launched backwards over the balcony railing and fell a dozen feet or so whilst my wings unsheathed, sliding neatly through the slits sewn into my jumper. Laughing, I beat them once to get back to the level of the balcony, my blackened irises drinking in the sight of Ysabel standing there with the wind from my wings making her blonde hair whip and dance around her. I seared the image into my memory, adding it to the ever growing bank of things I never wanted to forget, and then turned and propelled myself upwards into the sky, trying to calm the ill-timed roar of arousal that was now pounding through my body.
I didn’t press myself hard as I flew, keeping to a leisurely pace and letting my eyes wander over the city as I passed over it. The streets were quiet, as ever, the humans keeping themselves hidden behind locked doors in darkened houses, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t attract the attention of any passing ferals. Even they were in short supply on the streets tonight though. They would be holed up somewhere now, waiting for the higher generations to replace those that had died tonight and give them new orders.
I flew a few loops around a sky scraper with smashed windows, glancing in to the disarray inside; the mess left behind as the humans deserted it. Probably chased out by a pack of yowling ferals, going by the blood splatters and maimed, half rotted corpses that were
strewn amongst the papers and scattered chairs. I made a mental note to tell Michael about them if I got a chance; they shouldn’t be left there. I carried on over the city, drifting lower by degrees as I approached the base.
I glided casually over the fence, easily turning aside any eyes that I sensed looking my way, then swept upwards again, flying in wide spirals towards the mid-height block of flats at the very centre of the compound. I had only been to this building once before, to collect Ysabel’s belongings from the apartment she had been assigned, and didn’t know which window belonged to Michael. I circled the building slowly, reaching into it and searching for the familiar pulse of his mind. When I found it in an flat with a large window on the south side of the building, it was buzzing and alert – so he hadn’t gone to bed yet. I was pleased that I wouldn’t have to wake him up.
I landed on his small balcony, folding and sheathing my wings, and tapped on the glass of the French doors between me and the room. A few seconds passed and then the curtain was thrown part way back to reveal Michael, gun in hand. His expression darkened further as he saw me, and he unlatched and opened the door without lowering his gun. I raised an eyebrow at it pointedly as I stepped into the room. Michael just turned his back on me and stalked over to the seat in front of his computer that he had obviously just vacated. He was radiating hostility and disgust, so furiously that it made me cringe slightly. Irritation roiled through me, a greasy black cloud; there’s gratitude for you. I save him and his lousy human companions’ lives, staining my soul a little more in the process, and all he sees is a murderous vampire.
“I never claimed to be a saint, Michael.” I spoke bluntly and with more than a little venom in my tone, probably unfairly cross with him.
“No, you didn’t. But you never mentioned that you were a monster either.” His words were equally venomous, and he glared at me with cold, hard eyes.
The Guard Page 22