The City

by Rachael Byrd

  She pulled one of the crucifixes that she'd taken out of her pocket and shoved it into Phoenyx's mouth. Intrigue flung Phoenyx backward and leapt dexterously aside. Melissa crashed past her, snarling.

  Phoenyx went down hard, coughing and sputtering, but the cross had lodged itself firmly in her throat. Smoke rising in a thin stream from the bloodstained crescents of her lips, she fainted dead away.

  Melissa turned more quickly this time and Intrigue had no time to get away. Melissa knocked her over backwards. Her fangs plunged forward, aimed for the exposed flesh of Intrigue's throat, but Intrigue thrust her face forward, meeting the oncoming fangs with her own. Her teeth locked with Melissa's. They both regained their feet and Intrigue pulled her mouth free. They circled each other for a moment, snarling, before Melissa attacked again.

  Intrigue was ready. They grappled, growling and snarling, and Melissa managed to throw Intrigue backward. Her head cracked against a tree trunk and her mind swam for a moment. It was all Melissa needed; the girl was back on Intrigue in a heartbeat, her mouth open, seeking. Intrigue ducked her head again, meeting Melissa's ivory fangs with her own again.

  Intrigue fumbled for a moment, then finally managed to catch her claws around a silver vial of Holy Water. The vial shattered against the sharp points and for one brief moment, Intrigue was certain all was lost. There was an ephemeral flash of pain in her mind and Gem reached forward, guiding Intrigue's hands. She rammed blessed shards of glass upward into the throat of the Nosferatu.

  Melissa screamed. Intrigue moved upward with her. She clamped her jaws down on Melissa's mouth and swung her head backward as Melissa toppled backwards. There was another scream and Intrigue spat victory onto the ground: a bloody mess of gums ripped from the roof of Melissa's mouth, a few glinting shards of bone still in their sockets. The Nosferatu backed up, breathing heavily. Her eyes practically glowed with bloodthirst, but all else was gone. She did not seem to realize the loss of her fangs.

  Intrigue felt a sudden wave of pity for Melissa as Gem's guiding hands receded. Melissa had saved her and now stood before her as a savage killer relieved of her only real weapon. Tears welled up in Intrigue's eyes as she focused on what she would have to do to save whatever was left of her friend.

  She advanced slowly. Melissa stopped her retreat and moved forward to receive the attack. In a flash, Intrigue tore the stake out from her shirt and thrust it forward. Melissa impaled herself on the palisade, her bloody gums gnashing lustfully. The Nosferatu reeled backward, trying to pull herself off the stake, but there was no time. Intrigue shoved it home with one last thrust and the Nosferatu collapsed into a bloody heap.

  Phoenyx stirred. Intrigue turned slowly, her mind a confused whirl of conflicting emotions and blackness. Had she really intended to leave the pair here, to continue their damned existences? Was there any way she could return Angel's Queen to him, now that she had rammed a stake through the chest of the only one who had proven herself a loyal friend?

  Phoenyx's eyes fluttered open as Intrigue knelt beside her. Intrigue shuddered as she looked straight into the malicious black holes that served the feral Queen as eyes. Phoenyx was fully conscious now but suffering and effectively paralyzed. The smoke rose rapidly from her throat and Intrigue realized that Phoenyx would not survive the night if she were to leave now.

  Intrigue placed the stake against the swell of Phoenyx's breast. The Queen of the Undead coughed and the tiny crucifix tumbled out of her mouth to rest on her chest next to the point of the stake. Not hesitating another second, Intrigue shoved downward with brutal strength. The stake plunged in and blood spurted out in angry jets. Phoenyx flailed upward, her teeth gnashing furiously. The stake slid cleanly through Phoenyx's chest. The Queen's shrieks stopped and she fell silent. She didn't dissolve, didn't disappear. Her beauty, blood-streaked and damned, remained unchanged.

  Wishing that she had not turned back to help her friend, Intrigue collapsed on the bloody ground, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled the stake in close to her. She could ram it through her own heart—that's what she deserved for what she'd brought to Melissa. Intrigue pressed the point against her own chest and felt the thin prick of pain. Gem's presence swept through her and departed, angrily disapproving. Intrigue dropped the stake, ashamed. Pocketing the tiny crucifix that she'd used to incapacitate Phoenyx, Intrigue hauled herself to her feet and ran into the forest after the Chaotics.

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  25

  Angel surveyed the troops assembled before him: a dwindling number of vampires and vampiras, close to fifty Nosferatu. More than half of the latter were female. Most of the vampires were still oblivious to the changes in store for them and of the true nature of what they were becoming.

  He hadn't planned on taking such a large group after Intrigue; he hadn't really planned on going after her at all until his meeting with the invaluable Tyrhennia. She stood beside him now, her chin tilted arrogantly. Her flesh, porcelain pale to begin with, had achieved a light flush of pink, a soft glow that started below her eyes and swept back along her cheekbones. She was stunning in a vivid lime dress that complimented her eyes and redolent with the heavy odor of impending Nosferatuism. Angel had taken a few nips at her throat and had found what he had expected: she was one of the ‘Queen’ vampiras in a way Phoenyx had never been. Like Angel, she would become Nosferatu without losing her sanity. She would retain self control. He was glad to have been blessed with Tyrhennia's companionship.

  "Is their number enough?"

  Angel frowned, shooting her a sidelong glance. “Is there any reason it shouldn't be? How many Chaotics are there?"

  "Thirteen, I believe. Nine of Adrienne's, then Hawk and your Intrigue. She's got Caele and Talon with her, not yet undead."

  "We have over sixty here and you question our chances?"

  She shrugged lightly. “Everything has been so successful for you. If there is any reason you should fail, it is because you have had so much luck already. I know little of this newcomer, Intrigue. You have told me—"

  "Never mind what I told you; she's not as strong as she might have been. Besides, the disease must be growing strong in her as well."

  "You wanted her to be your Queen."

  He shifted his weight nervously. Wasting time here was doing them no good. “Right. Speaking of that, where are Phoenyx and Melissa? I wanted them to come along."

  "I've heard a rumor about the bird."

  "Phoenyx? What's that?"

  "She is Nosferatu."

  Angel's chest tightened. “Really?"

  "We should go now, Angel. Without her."

  They should leave ... the longer they waited, the more likely Intrigue was to gather more Chaotics. He couldn't leave Phoenyx, though—without her, he'd never have known Intrigue was a traitor.

  "The Nosferatu are impatient, Angel. You know how hard it will be to control them if one of them catches wind of someone warm."

  "All right, we'll go now.” After all, Phoenyx could probably use a rest. “By the way, how close are you?"

  Tyrhennia bared her throat and Angel sank his fangs into the cool flesh. The heavy, wet smell of death was heavy around Tyrhennia, and her blood was as cold and sluggish as the grave. The blood was not as sweet as that of human or vampira. Tyrhennia was almost completely gone.

  Angel waved to the troops and the Nosferatu shoved past the vampires. He turned and began his descent into the forest, Tyrhennia at his side, leading him through the moonless night toward the Chaotics’ stronghold.

  He stopped short as they reached the clearing where he had first met Tyrhennia. A body lay on the ground, crumpled in a red dress. Tyrhennia caught Angel's wrist and motioned to the vampires to wait as he moved forward, but he pulled free of her grasp.

  Angel walked stiffly to the body and knelt. A few blonde hairs and a bloody mass of fangs and gums lay off to the side. There were several sets of footprints leading deeper into the forest.

  Anguish lightly nibbling at
his heart, he grasped the body's shoulder and tugged, rolling the corpse onto its back. It couldn't be Phoenyx—but it was.

  There was a stake-hole through her chest and her beauty had been spoiled by daylight. Her skin was burned and wrinkled, hanging in loose brown flaps from her face. Her once-supple red lips were shriveled slivers of dried apple peel, ringing a mouth distorted in a scream. Perfect white fangs glittered just inside the grotesquely leering lips, the only part of her left untouched.

  Angel's hands moved uncomprehendingly over her face and pushed back the crispy eyelids in vain hope that her glittering black eyes would glow with unlife, but they were raisins, shrunken and fried by the sun's heat. His hands proceeded over her shoulders and under her back as he lifted her. What was that in her back? Phoenyx's body was riddled with holes! Angels exploring fingertips retrieved a number of small slivers of hardwood from the puckered depths of the wounds. He pulled them out, closing his eyes in concentration.

  He'd seen weapons before that could've made those holes—it occurred to him in a flash—a familiar body fleeing the Warehouse, the silhouettes of her hands grossly distorted by flashing metal.

  Angel dropped the sliver to the ground. His hands ventured up to the side of Phoenyx's throat, finding the wounds there that had not been made by the fangs of an undead.

  Intrigue.

  Fury simmering in his stomach, Angel turned to face his followers. One of the Nosferatu pushed toward him, mouth open and panting as he rushed toward the scent of the spilled blood. Freeing one hand, Angel staked the intruder, who promptly collapsed into a pile of dust. No one would clean the blood from Phoenyx's grave.

  Tyrhennia stared at him, her dramatic green eyes fixed on his face. Angel walked unhesitatingly past her and settled Phoenyx's corpse into the arms of a young vampira.

  "Go back to the Den. Take care of her body; you'll find yourself looking worse than her if you don't."

  The vampira turned away and Angel gestured to another vampire to collect the fangs from the dust—probably Melissa's? The vampire grabbed the fangs and a few of them dropped back into the dust.

  "Careful with those!” Angel snapped.

  "The night only lasts so long, Angel.” Tyrhennia sighed. “We're really too close to shout. They might hear you, might go deeper—"

  "I don't give a damn what they do. Phoenyx is dead."

  "So are you.” Angel glared at her. Tyrhennia ignored him. “You should care what happens, Angel. Intrigue is with them."

  Anger flashed through him. “Go."

  Tyrhennia reached down, a small knife in her hand, and slit the sides of her dress, freeing her legs so that she could run more easily. She bounded off into the trees, Angel at her heels and the rest of the vampires and Nosferatu not far behind them.

  The black house was crouched low between the trees, bowing to the forest, completely inconspicuous. Angel would never have noticed the subtle little hide veiled by the lush vegetation had Tyrhennia not been there to point it out for him.

  The house was silent, obscure among the trees, and Angel's stomach sank as soon as his eyes found it. This place was eerily familiar.

  "Stay back,” he muttered.

  The door opened easily, and Angel stepped in, feeling no fear. He had only to taste the air to know that they were not here. Tyrhennia joined him, her shoulders hunched forward as if being in the house had dropped an enormous weight onto her back. Her vibrant green eyes seemed hollow now, empty save for an undying hunger, and Angel knew that she had succumbed; Tyrhennia was Nosferatu.

  "They've moved on?” she asked.

  "Yes.” Angel leaned against the doorframe.

  "I didn't expect it."

  "Do you know where they've gone?"

  "Sanctuary, in all likelihood."

  "Sanctuary?"

  "Caligula's mentioned it before, but I don't know where it is. It's a holy place of some sort, probably an abandoned church."

  "How can we find them?"

  "You can't.” Angel stared at her, his eyes open wide in surprise and anger. Rethinking, Tyrhennia rephrased her thought. “We can't find them there, but they'll come for you, Angel. They know they don't have much time left. Arjuna in particular."

  "What would you recommend?"

  "Go back to your Den, Angel. Gather all your vampires."

  "There are rival Nests, Tyrhennia. If I gather all my troops in preparation for Intrigue, there will be none left to protect the Den against their invasions, and—"

  "If you do not, there will be no Den left to protect. Don't underestimate them, Angel. Her in particular."

  He hesitated. How much damage could Intrigue do? Then again ... she'd killed Phoenyx. “All right."

  They left the black house together. Angel waved his arm and the vampires headed off back toward the Den. Angel retrieved a small metal lighter from his pocket and flicked a flame into existence. He stared at it for a moment, entranced, then locked into the “on” position and tossed it casually toward the house.

  The lighter lay in the doorway, silent. The house caught more quickly than he'd expected. Paint bubbled up away from the wood and as the flames spread, windows shattered. Angel glanced back over his shoulder as he walked away, thinking for a moment that he heard children screaming.

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  26

  They were gathered together, huddled in a small circle around the vessels of the oil that they had managed to save. Arjuna was flat on his back, his cobalt eyes sunken into dark pits. His eyelids were swollen and red against his ashen face. His breaths came in short, desperate gasps.

  "Arjuna?” Intrigue whispered.

  His cloudy eyes rolled in their sockets and settled uneasily on Intrigue. She knelt beside him and uncorked a flask of oil. She tipped some into his mouth but he coughed violently, spraying the fluid back up and out. Her hands trembling, Intrigue smeared a bit of oil across his forehead. Arjuna groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, retching. A trickle of red-tinted bile splattered the earth.

  "Arjuna, you need to drink this.” Intrigue moved around to him. She spilled the oil between his parted lips and held his mouth shut until he swallowed it. His eyes rolled up to her again, simultaneously thankful and angry.

  Arjuna's body shuddered with each shallow gasp and his limbs had wasted away; they were brittle branches wrapped in too-pale flesh. He coughed again, blood trickling from the inside corner of his eye. Intrigue pulled away from him, horrified, and turned to Adrienne.

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "He's dying."

  She hesitated, unsure. “He's already dead."

  "Nosferatu, Intrigue. We're all headed for that end, but he's not going easily. He's fighting so hard—I don't know how—” Adrienne's voice broke and she looked down, a single tear tracing its way down her pale cheek. “He won't give in; I know he won't. He'll shrivel away to nothing; he'll be like one of the sun-scorched corpses..."

  Adrienne looked up at Intrigue, her dark brown eyes pleading and miserable. “We can't do this to him. We have to let him die completely, with his soul intact.” Tears flowed freely from Adrienne's eyes.

  Intrigue stepped back, uncertain, and looked around at the others. They seemed resolute, somehow, standing there with their eyes wide open and their faces devoid of expression. Hadrian trembled uncontrollably, and Intrigue thought she knew how he felt.

  "Hadrian?” she whispered.

  "Do it, Intrigue. You have to."

  Why me? She wondered ... but she felt responsible. Intrigue knelt beside Arjuna again and rolled his too-thin body onto his back.

  "It's going to be okay,” she whispered. His eyes followed her, but their movement was sluggish and uncertain. Intrigue twisted the cap off a fresh flask of oil and tilted it between Arjuna's narrowed lips. The flask emptied and Intrigue stroked his throat gently, encouraging him to swallow. He managed to do so, and as the liquid drained down his throat, another coughing fit sent a fine spray of droplets out of his mouth. Intrigue re
ached for another bottle, intent on bringing him back to full consciousness, but he had regained enough strength to whisper.

  "Do it, Intrigue. I don't want this life anymore.” Smiling halfheartedly, Arjuna reached up to brush his fingertips along the bulge in her shirt that concealed the stake. His hand fell back to the ground and she felt compelled to do as he had asked.

  Intrigue held the point against his chest, tears welling up behind her eyes. She pressed downward, trying not to think. The stake dimpled the skin of his chest, then pierced it. Blood welled up and drained from the puncture, cool and dark. Arjuna groaned, his eyes rolling madly beneath puffy red lids.

  "Faster, damn you."

  Intrigue looked down at him, feeling his pain reflected in every fiber of her body, and she plunged the stake downward in one sharp movement. Vibrations pulsed up her arm as the stake sank through the dead remains of his heart. His mouth opened and closed a few times, his fangs stretching to shred his lips into bloody ribbons. It was over and done with in a few heartbeats, but the image of Arjuna's cobalt eyes opening and coming back to life as he died seared itself into Intrigue's retinas.

  Belle flung herself down on the ground and wrapped her slender arms around Arjuna's staring corpse.

  "How do we dispose of the carcass?” Jonathon asked.

  Intrigue glanced up, not really surprised by his choice of words; they were dead already and what kind word could be used to describe a twice-dead cadaver? Belle, however, looked scandalized.

  "How can you say that? He's one of us, not some piece of road-kill, not a pile of refuse to be burned and forgotten!"

  "Jonathon's right.” Kshatriya's black eyes bored into Belle's flat brown ones. “Arjuna was one of us. He's safe now; we cannot know where his soul has departed to. We know that it is not here, in this bleeding hunk of meat."

  Belle glared up at Kshatriya, her mouth open and ready to protest, but he waved her off. “That is all you are holding onto so tightly, Belle—a carcass. We can't very well leave him here and we can't take him with us. Bury or burn."