Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)

by Colleen Gleason

  FOURTEEN

  ~ Architectural Blind Spots ~

  By the time Max and Macey learned the location of the Beedle school and arrived there, it was after one o’clock.

  They pushed their way through the crowd, heading toward the front of the fortress-like building.

  “I’m going to do a circuit,” Max said, his crossbow over his shoulder. “Meet you here in a few.” He peeled off and went in one direction as Macey headed toward the cluster of police officers, an ambulance, and what looked like other officials.

  Frustratingly, she was stopped at a blockade by two officious-looking cops and was forced to step back to consider their options. Causing a scene and pushing through wouldn’t help anything, and could end up with either her or Max in jail, Venator or not—but how to explain that they were uniquely suited to assist with the situation—which was already delicate? Plus, they didn’t know what was going on except what had been reported in the special edition—which was not much beyond the startling headline and background about the school itself.

  Then Macey saw Detective Linwood standing in the clump of authorities. She called out to him and moved up to the barricade, waving to catch his attention. She didn’t know if Grady’s uncle would remember her, but it was worth a try.

  He turned at the sound of his name and looked surprised, then hurried over to her. The officers at the barricade allowed her to pass through when their colleague gave them a nod, and she hurried toward Grady’s uncle.

  Macey felt a horrible premonition as Linwood approached, for he looked frighteningly grave—and she didn’t think it was because he’d not yet fully recovered from his own attack by the vampires.

  “It’s you—isn’t it? Macey, that’s your name. Right?” He looked a little confused and perhaps a bit hopeful.

  “Yes. I’m here—we’re here. My—er—partner, he went for a walk around the building, but he’ll be back in a minute. We know— We think we can assist with this particular situation. We’re familiar with the perpetrator, and know how he works.”

  Linwood was looking at her as if he didn’t know what to believe. “Grady’s in there.”

  Macey’s belly dropped sharply, and her insides swirled like a typhoon. Linwood gripped her arm. Surely she hadn’t actually swayed.

  Macey listened to Linwood’s explanation, but at the same time, all she could think was that her nightmare had come true. Iscariot had Grady, and she knew—she knew—the vampire lord would use him to get to her. The images of Mrs. Gutchinson—her elderly landlady—and her friend Chelle, both of whom had been brutalized by Nicholas Iscariot, swam in her mind. She felt lightheaded and sick.

  The very thing she’d never wanted to happen, the event she’d tried to prevent all along—from the time she realized who she was and what she had to do—had come to pass.

  As it had done to her own father, thirteen years ago.

  She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from gagging, struggled to pull herself together, to touch the smooth silver of her vis bulla.

  No.

  Iscariot would not win.

  He was evil personified. He was the root of malevolence.

  He would not win.

  But if she had to make a choice between Grady and giving up Rekk’s Pyramid to the vampires—and she knew that was what fate awaited her—what would she do?

  How could she choose? How could she live with herself either way?

  “Macey.”

  She realized Linwood and another cop were looking at her.

  She struggled to draw in a breath. “There’s been no word since Grady—since he went in? No further message? How long has he been in there?”

  “More than an hour—he went inside just before noon. He gave me these to hold before he went in.” Linwood opened his hand—it was trembling—to show them a silver cross on a chain, and a silver ring. “They wouldn’t allow any metal on his person.”

  It’s a setup, she thought. He wanted Grady in there—because he knows I’d come for him.

  She glanced at Linwood, who, fortunately, had been distracted by something beyond the gate of the school.

  “Right. Of course. We have to get in there.”

  “You can’t go in,” Linwood said, turning back to them. “They’ll kill everyone inside—that’s what they said. If anyone—”

  He stopped and they all looked toward the building. “That sounded like breaking glass,” said the other cop—Barnett was his name. “From the back of the school.”

  Macey didn’t wait for permission, or even for Max to return. For all she knew, he was already there. She just ran, weaving between people, pushing through the gate—just as a stream of girls came tearing around from the back of the building.

  + + +

  Max walked quickly around the perimeter of the school, looking for the best place to climb over the fence without being seen by anyone inside.

  He was damned if he was going to wait for someone to tell him what to do, when to go in, and how. He’d heard enough from bystanders as he made his way through them to get a general idea of what was going on. By now, Max had no doubt Iscariot was in the school, and he was going to string him up with a wooden crossbow bolt with great pleasure—or die trying.

  His circuit took him past the halfway point of the perimeter, following the tall wrought iron fence, before he found the perfect place to climb over. Though there were no trees on the grounds to provide cover, there was a blind spot on the building on one side—where the main, wide chimney rose from ground to roof, and at the bottom was a discreet entrance—likely for staff and deliveries. In fact, there was a large delivery truck parked right there, which would also offer some cover. He assumed that windowless vehicle was how the vampires had been transported and gained access to the building.

  There was a width of about four feet on the wall with no windows, and the nearest opening after that was past the edge of the jutting chimney.

  It was all he needed—just that sliver of space where no one from the inside could spot him as he got over the fence.

  Max studied the angle for a moment, determined exactly where to stand so he couldn’t be seen, then removed the crossbow and quiver from his back, shoving it through a gap in the fence.

  With an air of determination and relief—finally, he was doing something—Max crouched and sprang up on his powerful legs. He caught the fence more than halfway up, and pulled himself up, hand over hand, his rubber-toed shoes helping to propel and steady him, until he gripped the tops of two pointed iron spikes. He waited, staying there for a moment, balanced against the fence with his toes against the bars, his arms flexed to hold him as close to the top as possible.

  Then…one…two…three.

  With one mighty movement, he lifted himself as he twisted his torso, feet to one side, and whipped his legs up like a gymnast, using that momentum and every bit of strength in his arms and shoulders to vault himself up and over the spikes, shoes first, in a wide, high arc.

  Then, with a little more thrust to make sure he cleared the top, he let go and landed, flatfooted and slightly out of breath, on the other side, and scooped up his bow and bolts. But he couldn’t take any longer to pause and congratulate himself on not skewering his arse on the top of the fence—he had to get out of sight.

  He bolted toward the building, staying in the blind spot as much as he could. He noticed, as he ran toward the indentation of the chimney, that there were four tall windows at ground level, lined up along the back of the school, that seemed to be covered up.

  None of the other windows were fully covered—though most of them had drapery of some sort—and that told Max all he needed to know about where the vampires were gathered. He was now flush against the wall, and just as he began to make his way along it toward the closest of those covered-up windows, the covering was pulled away from the third-farthest one.

  This galvanized him into immediate action—someone inside knew what they were doing, and he suspected he knew whom�
�so he bolted toward another of the shrouded windows.

  He could hear shouts and screams from inside, and then another of the coverings fluttered and was torn away. By then, Max was there, and he looked inside that window to see a pack of schoolgirls, right on the other side of the glass, now safely bathed in the sunlight.

  “Watch out!” he shouted at the girls, for one of them had come up as if to open the window. She stumbled back, taking some of the others with her, and Max swung his crossbow at the glass.

  It shattered with a loud, satisfying noise, and he smashed at it again so the shards rained down and fell through, creating a large opening. He used his quiver to push the glass from the edges of the window, then began to help the girls climb out as quickly as possible.

  Max couldn’t see much of what was going on inside, but there were sounds of screaming and fighting. He itched to get in there, to find Iscariot, but…the girls. They were the first priority.

  “Run,” he ordered as most of them stood on the grass, blank-eyed and confused. “Run around to the front.”

  “There’s a man inside—he helped us—but he’s in a bad way,” said one of the older students, who’d also been helping the younger ones climb out from the inside.

  “Get a doctor,” he said, lifting out another hostage. When at last he got the final, desperate girl safely onto the grass, Max climbed inside himself.

  “Iscariot!” he bellowed, eschewing the safety of the pools of sunshine to step fully into the room and look around.

  The first thing he saw was an undead with one of the schoolgirls who hadn’t gotten away. Max yanked a stake from his boot and leaped across the room to slam it into the creature’s heart, even as the vampire tried in vain to hold the girl like a shield.

  Glancing around the room to take in the rest of the situation—at least eight more vampires, plus, ah, there was Iscariot, holding the injured man against the wall, and another girl was slumped on the floor—Max ducked into the puff of undead ash and scooped up the student he’d just saved.

  He rushed back to the window, and just as he got there, he heard the sound of a great ruckus behind him.

  “Iscariot!” cried a female voice. “Show yourself!”

  He nearly dropped the girl when he realized it was Macey. Dear God, his daughter was here.

  He fairly shoved the schoolgirl through the window; fortunately, one of the police officers was there to catch her. He saw several others coming around the corner at a run. “Stay outside,” he ordered to the one who took the hostage. “All of you. We’ll need a doctor—but stay outside.”

  Then he turned back around, gripping his stake, just in time to see Iscariot drop the man he’d been attacking. With a jolt, Max recognized him as he slid to the floor, bloody and unconscious—most likely dead, or near enough to it. But damn—it was definitely Grady.

  “Well, look what we have here. Two Gardella Venators. A father and daughter team, is it?” Iscariot taunted, looking back and forth between them as he stood safely in a shadowy area. “I didn’t expect to have both of you as my guests, but you’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  Max counted ten undead that gathered near the vampire lord, and realized he’d left his crossbow and quiver on the ground outside the window. He was still standing in the pool of sunlight, and would be protected if he wanted to step back and get them…but he dared not turn his back now. Not with Macey there.

  He looked over at her, and saw that her dark hair glinted with undead ash—so she’d taken care of one already. Well done.

  Iscariot gestured to the pile of flesh, blood, and bone that was Grady. “Since my previous guest is no longer useful to me, I’ll just have to keep one of you as collateral until the pyramid is delivered. Now which one of you would like to have the honor of staying, and which of you would like to retrieve the pyramid?”

  “I’ll have the honor of your heart on my stake,” Macey said, stepping further into the room. She held her weapon like a professional, Max noted with relief.

  Then he saw a movement behind her. His heart surged into his throat as he tried to shout a warning, but before he even got the word out, she’d whirled with a neat up-and-over-the-shoulder blow to the undead who’d had the temerity to creep up behind her. The vampire poofed into dust and Macey walked even closer to Iscariot and his group.

  “I’m terribly sorry your little plan didn’t work out the way you wanted, Nicky,” she said, sashaying a little as she moved toward them, as if she wanted his eyes on her in that way.

  Max couldn’t help but watch with a combination of pride, terror, and enjoyment. It was rather entertaining, really, and it gave him the opportunity to observe and plan for the next assault. He wasn’t foolish enough to think for one moment they had the undead trapped and at their mercy. It was, after all, ten—no, nine—versus two; though he figured he counted as at least three fighters himself. And one of the nine was Iscariot, who was a tricky and powerful devil. Literally.

  Max couldn’t wait to drive a stake into his heart, and watch the creature’s face freeze in shock.

  “Nice design on your face, there, Nicky,” Max drawled. “Is that cross a stamp of where your loyalty now lies? How does your damned father feel about that?”

  Iscariot’s eyes blazed wildly as he turned to Max, and he felt the sudden force of his evil wash over him like an ugly chill. “That decides it. I’ll keep her. And let you watch, Max Denton. Unfortunately, you missed the show the last time I had one of your women for dinner.”

  “Thank you for the reminder, Nicky—oh, I like that, Macey. Nicky. It’s catchy and juvenile, and it suits him.” He nodded at his daughter while seeming to be at ease, but his attention was constantly skimming the group of undead and the rest of the room. There would be surprises, he knew. It was just a matter of when. It was clear this whole thing had been planned.

  “As I was saying, Iscariot”—his voice became cold as death—“thank you for the reminder of what you did to my wife. Not that I’ve ever forgotten.”

  “It took you long enough to come after me, Denton. What has it been…thirteen years? Did it take you that long to build up your courage?”

  Max smiled. “Oh, I’ve been busy during those thirteen years—while you were hiding from me, cowering in caves and secluded cities, afraid to show your face for fear I’d find you. In the meantime, I’ve destroyed anything and everything you might return to. There is no escape for you now. And I’ve spent some time learning about all the ways an undead can die. There are more than you might realize.”

  “Oh, but you’ve forgotten. We’re already dead. Which is more than I can say for you—at least at the moment. And now that you mention it, I’ve been thinking about keeping your daughter with me…forever. Oh, don’t worry, Denton; I’d take excellent care of her…for centuries, at least. She is quite lovely, and— Now!”

  From nowhere came a heavy black wad of netting—launched directly at him, and ballasted with heavy weights that wrapped around him. Max was immediately trapped in the network of cord, and no sooner had the web been fired than the undead were rushing toward him.

  He tried to fling the net away, but it was too heavy, and there were too many openings that caught him up. As he dropped to the floor, he glanced over to see that Macey was being attacked by a trio of vampires while Iscariot watched. He saw her plunge a stake, then the poof of resulting ash—but then another undead lunged into the fray and Macey disappeared beneath a wild mass of limbs and torsos.

  Incensed, Max rolled away, heading into a block of sunlight while he fished out the knife he carried in a front pocket. The blade was sharp, and it cut easily through the black rope, but a vampire caught the edge of the net before the last of it went into the sun. Max’s half-cocooned body was dragged out of the yellow light as he finished slicing down the front of the net.

  As they pulled him upright, Max struck out with the blade, catching them by surprise that he was nearly free. He plunged it into the neck of his nearest assailant, then
ripped the blade across his throat. Blood spurted everywhere, startling and distracting the others attacking him. Still partly tangled in the net, he held on to the slippery knife and completed the hack job, bringing the blade back around to finish severing the vampire’s head. As he cut through the last vertebra, the undead exploded into dust.

  But Max was just getting started.

  He flung off the remnants of the net and stabbed out with his stake at another assailant, then tripped a third undead, shoving him so he tumbled into the square of sunlight. The second vampire dodged the blow from Max’s stake at the last minute, so it slammed harmlessly into his torso. He grabbed Max, catching him off balance after the missed blow, and threw him into the wall.

  Max’s head hit hard, and he crashed to the floor as the vampire came after him. But he angled his feet back toward his body and met the undead with a powerful blow, thrusting him up and away with all the strength in his legs. The creature flew through the air and landed in a pool of sunshine, screaming with agony.

  Max shook his head and clambered to his feet, out of breath, exhilarated, and filled with fury.

  And then he stopped.

  Iscariot had Macey. She stood there, panting, fiery-eyed with fury, held in place by a vampire on each side. Her hands were empty of weapons.

  Then, from the corner of his eye, Max saw movement at the window. One of the damned policemen—no, two of them!—were climbing inside.

  Bloody fools. And bugger it—he didn’t have time to deal with them now.

  “Nice show, Denton,” crooned Iscariot, looking at Macey with burning eyes. “But now it’s time to get down to business.”

  “The only business I have with you is dusting your evil soul,” Max replied.

  “The feeling is quite mutual.” The vampire lord turned and flickered a glance at Macey. “Yet death is too simple, isn’t it? Too quick—even if I tried to prolong it, which I would certainly do for you, Max Denton. But there are things worse than death. For you, anyway.” He smiled, his fangs long and sharp. “Are there not?”

  Iscariot looked again at Macey, but this time it was more than a glance. This time, he was calling to her with his gaze—coaxing her, lulling her. Max could almost feel the vibration of his thrall as the evil lord lured her to look at him.