Vanse opened his eyes, his mouth creasing into a lazy smile. He squeezed, pulling her against him. She laughed.
"Mmm, for once I'm glad you can read my mind," she said, walking her fingers across his chest, enjoying the tease of his skin under her fingertips.
"It's not your mind I'm reading," he replied. He shifted so they lay facing each other. "Tatya, I would like nothing more than to make long, slow love to you," he paused, sparks of gold in his eyes, his smile deepening, "and I promise you one day soon I will, but I must, how do you phrase it? Take a rain check."
She blinked in disbelief. How dare he? Her palm itched with the urge to slap him across the face, and hurt him. After lifetimes of pursuit, she'd offered herself to him on a plate well, on a bed, and he refused. Screw him! Hell could freeze over before she gave him another chance. She pushed against him, trying to move away, but he held her tight and refused to let her escape.
"It's not that I don't want you," his voice was low and intense. "My feelings for you will never change."
"Oh, cut the crap. I have to go to the bathroom. Do you mind?" He released her, and she rolled away from him as fast as she could. "If that's how you want to play this game, then that's fine by me!" She stormed across the room and slammed the bathroom door.
A sharp knock from outside the suite had her opening the door again before she'd taken two steps. But by then Vanse had ushered Sheriff Corwin and Major Bryson into the room. Both took in the rumpled bedcovers without blinking an eye as they looked from Vanse to her.
If only, flashed through Tatya's mind. Vanse twinkled at her. She ignored him.
"Our reinforcements are having a tough time getting through," announced Bryson, too professional to allow his tone to betray his thoughts. This meant their total defense included Corwin and half a dozen police; Bryson's elite force of twenty men, and Vanse's one hundred odd followers.
Yeah, where was the cavalry when you needed them? The trill of that warning trumpet heralding the salvation of the beleaguered soldiers in old western movies echoed in her mind. Aunt Lil had loved to watch those films.
"We're in a kind of Rourke's Drift, Alamo, Thermopylae, David, and Goliath..."
"We get it, Corwin," said Tatya, and thought things must be bad if Corwin was using that many metaphors.
"Any idea how long it will take for them to arrive?" Vanse's voice held no hint of urgency or sign that he knew the ravening hordes of monsters and demons from hell were about to batter down the doors.
Tatya wondered what multitudes of slavering, beastlike demons did when they got hold of you. The phrase 'limb from limb' jumped to mind and goose bumps erupted along her neck.
"No." Bryson's answer was flat and honest.
"Don't worry, Tatya. We got your back."
"Gee, Corwin, that's good. I was getting a tad worried there for a moment." She gave Corwin a wry grin. She knew he understood. The banter between them was a way of saying they cared about each other; if Corwin lost his life because of her, she'd incur a karmic debt she'd never be able to repay.
A loud, intermittent beeping began, and Bryson tapped his earpiece, listening with an intent expression on his face. "It's the coma patients," he said. "They're awake. Every single one, moving down through the building."
"Bet ya they're going for the entrance doors," Corwin said, pulling his inhaler out of his pocket and sucking in a large dose.
"Go, stay with Changing Sky," Vanse instructed Tatya. He blurred toward the door.
Bryson hurried after him, rattling off orders to his unit into his speaker microphone.
Corwin looked at her. "You okay?"
"Be careful, Bill. Please."
"Hey, you know me." Then he, too, left.
Tatya and Changing Sky sat in their established positions opposite each other on the floor of his room. Sage sticks burned in several metal bowls aligned with the cardinal directions, but this time, the pair sat with knees and hands touching.
Outside, a dozen vamps stood guard with orders to keep the occupants safe, no matter the cost.
"This will be the same as before," the shaman instructed, "but this is no practice."
Tatya gathered her strength. Aunt Lil and Sean were dead, and she needed to be calm and in control if she was to be of any use. Pushing her conflicting feelings about Vanse, her nervousness, her sorrow, and everything else to the back of her mind, she focused on the task at hand. At a nod from the shaman, he and Tatya raised their shields and synchronized their breathing. A tremor of anticipation ran through her as she sensed the Bandrui stirring.
"Tatya!" Changing Sky called. They linked.
In an intense flash of etheric movement, the shaman led them up and out of their bodies. As long as their bodies remained undisturbed, they could return. Although her consciousness had withdrawn from her physical self, a tiny corner of her mind remained aware of sitting in a room, deep below the hospital. Being both inside and outside of her body was a weird and wonderful sensation.
She sensed Changing Sky checking their psychic shields. Another beat and they rose high above the hospital, joined to their physical selves by the thinnest of astral links. From this viewpoint, Tatya witnessed the true extent and horror of the siege. Angelus was easy to spot; his figure tall and heroic with his burnished skin, and his hair falling in glorious red-gold curls around his shoulders. He stood motionless, facing the hospital, as a roiling blackness fanned out from him in waves.
If you didn't know he was the source of this insanity, you might fear for him, but Tatya knew how fixated those disturbing blue eyes of his were on achieving what he desired. Detached from her body as she was, she experienced no physical reaction and tried to ignore the tiny, hard knot of fear in her mind. How would they, how could they, ever defeat him?
"Remain small," Meoquanee commanded, her voice rich with assurance. "Look elsewhere. He knows you're here, and he knows you're protected, but for now we prefer if he doesn't examine us too closely."
Taking courage from the spirit guide, Tatya obeyed, and turned her attention away from Angelus, but the wrongness of the scene below tore at her senses. The Bandrui within, asleep until now, twitched as if in response to the external menace. Taking her time, she studied the legions Angelus had summoned, the adversaries they must defeat.
A pack of Barghest, with glittering, rage-reddened eyes, roamed the front line. The muscles in their great bodies bunched and rippled as they flung themselves and crashed against Vanse's outer perimeter wards. They bared their fangs and snarled as they were thrown back. Ranged behind them a host of Dökkálfar, dark elf like beings, blacker than pitch, jabbed the beasts with spears and javelins, and sparks hissed and sizzled as their tips connected with the iron hard bodies of the massive black dogs.
Tatya stared horrified in disbelief as creatures unseen for ages crammed the streets of Orleton.
Dullahans, riding with their heads held under their arms, eyes flicking here and there at the surrounding tumult, their mouths stretched in gruesome smiles, goading Angelus's half-demon, half-vampire followers into a frenzy. Among the madness ran every shape and size of living gargoyles. Some had more than one body sharing the same head; some had several heads with one body; some were four-legged creatures with serpents' heads—all ravenous to satisfy their bloodlust. Grotesque, reptilian humanoid creatures and gigantic warriors brandishing flaming swords strode among the multitude.
How long had Angelus schemed to amass these legions? And what sacrifices must he have performed to open the gates of Hell long enough to permit these fiends to escape? Tatya closed her eyes as her hopes of defeating the demon lord appeared increasingly impossible. A shiver of premonition flushed through her.
"Being this near to him drains hope, Tatya. It's part of his potency. Don't despair, we have strong allies." Changing Sky's voice comforted her.
"Do you think if Vanse killed me it might give the rest of you a chance?"
"No. It's too late for that. Angelus is Vanse's master, or would have bee
n if he'd understood the vampiric process, but because your blood is mixed with theirs, either of them could bring you back, and turn you into a vampire."
"Don't forget the half-demon part."
"If it were Angelus, he'd control you immediately."
She caught a distant scream from one of the men fighting inside the hospital and recognized it for what it was—a death cry.
"Otakay says we must move now, but we only help. We will not fight the enemy ourselves today."
Tatya flicked a glance at Angelus, the glowing center of the approaching maelstrom. She stoked her anger, hiding the fear. She felt Changing Sky tighten his grip on her hands and make sure their breathing was in harmony.
In the next instant, filled with a bright energy, they made a steep dive into the hospital foyer, and straight into a vicious fight.
Keeping her fury on a tight leash, Tatya observed the scene. Bryson had enough weapons and silver bullets for the humans, and the near constant deafening blasts of gunfire contrasted with the deadly quiet of vampire hand-to-hand combat. She knew Vanse also had a store of firearms and silver bullets, but as his vamps weren't using guns, she figured he must be keeping them in reserve. This wasn't the worst they would face.
Paramedics had continued bringing in coma victims, even after the evacuation, and they outnumbered Vanse's vampires. The home team had more practice in killing whereas the vamp newbies had awakened to find themselves in a scene from Dante's Inferno, compelled to be pawns to a master they'd never known they had.
Vanse and his vampires moved with incredible speed, staking Angelus's younger vamps with ease. Many of the latter, distinguished by the comic touch of hospital gowns, had gathered over by the doors and were attempting to break out. So far, the protective wards held. Others formed a line of defense, battling to keep back their attackers.
"Stay away from Vanse," Meoquanee instructed, and, recalling the last time she'd tried that little exercise, Tatya understood why. By the time they focused on what he saw, he'd have dealt with it and moved on to the next encounter. For him, their presence would be a hindrance.
"There." Otakay directed their attention to one of Bryson's men, reloading his weapon as three vamps charged him.
In unison, Changing Sky and Tatya channeled a bolt of energy into the soldier. The beleaguered man suddenly gained faster-than-light reactions, whacked the nearest vamp with a back-handed swipe, sending him flying, and punched the second vigorously in the stomach, knocking him on his back. As the third closed in, he fired his reloaded firearm into his attacker's heart.
Tatya checked for Corwin and spotted him in the line defending the elevators. Bellamy stood beside him, a cold concentration in his eyes, firing his gun with deadly accuracy. In front of them, Deputy Rathmore lay on the ground unmoving. Nearby, two of Bryson's troop sprawled, limbs askew, necks broken.
When the coma vamps stayed out of range, the odds favored the humans. They were expert marksmen, Bryson's unit exceptionally so. The silver bullets brought their opponents down like pins in a bowling alley. But the newer vampires possessed the numerical advantage. When they got close enough, they killed before their opponents had time to blink.
"You're strong enough to act on your own, Tatya. That way, we can be of more help, but don't break the link."
Tatya didn't question Changing Sky's decision, but in the anarchic flow of hand-to-hand combat, finding who needed help wasn't easy. She scanned the fighting, saw a coma vamp about to skewer one of Bryson's men, and drew on her power, directing it into the soldier. She exhaled in relief as he leaped back up and shot the vamp who a split second ago, had been standing over him.
She sensed the warrior spirit guide, Otakay, guiding her each time to where she could help those who were most desperate. Again and again, she concentrated, and drawing on the linked sources of strength, sending pulse after pulse of energy to whoever needed help. Fighters nearing exhaustion discovered new reserves of stamina, and the speed to defend themselves and their comrades.
Tatya had no time to think as she mastered the skill of channeling support to someone under attack while searching for the next person in need. The immediacy of action, the pull and thrust of power, the flood of potency was intoxicating. The desire to kill the coma vamps and exact her revenge on their species grew.
But Otakay stayed her hand. "I, too, wish to fight. But if you do, you'll alert Angelus to the extent of your powers. Today we help. Have patience, our day will come."
And she had to be content with that.
Even amidst the intense fighting, Tatya kept a sharp eye out for Corwin; he had to stay alive. It was Corwin's men who benefitted most from her aid. As policemen, they witnessed humanity's less altruistic side on a daily basis, but they had never fought an enemy like this one. Yet, even she could see, that despite their skills, and the weapons at their disposal, they were losing.
An ear-splitting crash froze everyone in a ghastly still life. Heads turned in slow motion, searching for the cause of the noise. Tatya watched in shock as Angelus's hordes breached the barriers warding the outer perimeter and swarmed toward the building.
"Retreat!" Vanse's order, heavy with glamour, had Corwin's men and Bryson's soldiers backing toward the elevators, while his vampires guarded their withdrawal.
The coma vamps lost interest in them, and massed toward the windows, staring at their advancing brothers. The protective wards still held, but for how long was anybody's bet.
The last thing Tatya saw before the elevator doors closed on Corwin, and Vanse disappeared through a warded door, was Angelus.
Radiating dominance he walked with his head high and his blue eyes–as always–seeking her. His army of demons howled and screamed around him as he strode toward the hospital entrance.
And the final sound she heard as Changing Sky whisked her away, was the baying of the Barghest hounds as the glass shattered and Vanse's wards disintegrated.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Sacrifice
Despite the post-battle exhaustion they both experienced, Changing Sky insisted Tatya put aside the urge to take time out and come to terms with her new powers. The situation was urgent. Contacting the Bandrui was the priority.
"Have you spoken with them yet?" Changing Sky asked.
Tatya's eyes snapped open. She had been trying to contact her spirit guides for the last hour without a break, but the results were always the same. "Nothing."
The shaman's spirit guides had withdrawn, saying they couldn't help her. The Bandrui were hers, and she'd carried them for centuries. This she had to do on her own.
Tatya sensed the power radiating from the Bandrui, but unlike the shaman's spirit guides, whose personalities were strong and distinct, she hadn't an inkling who wielded the dormant power living within her. Doubt she'd succeed, and despair at the thought of failure added to the pressure. As her energy levels dropped, Tatya struggled to stay upright, and not keel over and fall asleep. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to continue, determined to make as many attempts as necessary. She would do whatever was needed to defeat Angelus. Slowing her breathing, shutting down her external senses, and forgetting her exhausted body, she woke her inner sight. Where were they? What would they look like? An image of three hags, with sharp, crone-like features, and white matted locks stirring a pot, sprang to mind.
Abruptly a young woman's laugh rang in her head and she saw a beautiful, slender young woman. The instant she appeared, Tatya remembered her name, Fidelma, and her role in Tatya's past surfaced. The priestess wore her blonde hair in the same three braids, and the same intricately embroidered robe as in her memories.
Laughing at Tatya's astonishment, Fidelma brought forward and introduced her to the other two guides. Brigid, with her kind eyes, matronly figure, and a forgiving warmth, evoked even dimmer remembrances of the mother from the same life who'd died when she was young. The last, Dhanu was older, but no hag. Keen gray eyes in a gracious patrician face studied her.
Tatya smiled as they bathed her
in tenderness. They had witnessed her suffering, life after life, forbidden to act because it was not their time. Without hesitation, they drew her in, expanded her understanding of their purpose and why she'd been chosen. She accepted their gift and smiled in acknowledgment. They faded from her consciousness, and she let them go, aware of them at a subliminal level, yet she already missed their active presence. She opened her eyes, her tiredness dispelled, and saw Changing Sky's broad grin. He knew.
"Well?"
She was about to answer when a polite knock on the door interrupted them. One of Vanse's personal bodyguards waited, head bowed in submission.
"My master requests your presence." He stared at the floor, refusing to look at the shaman. "Immediately."
Tatya rolled her eyes at Changing Sky but swallowed the sarcastic remark on the edge of her tongue. Their predicament was no joking matter.
The conference room buzzed with more chatter and nervous energy than at the last meeting. Every military soldier and law enforcement officer had fought like the trained professionals they were, but once the immediate danger was past, the reaction set in.
With the barest lowering of her shields, Tatya observed auras ranging from bright red to dull brown, whole rainbows of colors flaring and fading, reflecting the fighters' emotions as they adjusted from adrenaline-fueled battle mode back down to normalcy, but she no longer felt overloaded by the influx of information. She offered a mental thank you to her guides—without doubt, this gift also came from them.
Most of Vanse's vamps were absent, as he didn't need them present to convey his orders. Bryson's soldiers had gathered at one end of the room, while his medics attended the wounded. Corwin, Bellamy, and his remaining officers stood in a group around Leipman who nursed an injured shoulder, but considering the jokes he was cracking, it wasn't fatal and wouldn't keep him out of action for long.
She flashed on the recent skirmish, thankful she'd been able to offer backup. Altogether Tatya knew of at least three soldiers and two policemen who were dead. Her earlier despondency flooded back. Their position was hopeless.
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