The City

by Rachael Byrd

  Angel pushed the door of his Den open with his shoulder, memories still chasing each other round his head, and stepped into silence. Unaware of the tears running down his cheeks, he made his way to the room where Phoenyx still lay.

  Nytala stood over Phoenyx, her eyes wide and glazed. Angel felt a fresh wave of pain remembering how lovingly Nytala had once tended her baby boy.

  "Nytala.” His voice cracked, but Nytala did not turn to him. Phoenyx, however, sat up slowly, wiping at her eyes and sucking at the tube that carried fresh blood to her mouth.

  "Angel? Who's that? Aymir?"

  Angel lowered Aymir's body onto a table.

  "The recruiter? What happened to him? Oh, Angel, you're crying!"

  "Not now, ‘Nyx. I need to talk to Nytala."

  Phoenyx frowned, uncomprehending, but quiet. Nytala turned to look at him, her eyes unfocused and distant.

  "Nytala."

  "What, Angel?"

  Again, that insolent tone that she'd used with him earlier. His brow furrowed. “Aymir was killed, Nytala."

  The glazed look melted from Nytala's eyes and her body went rigid as she focused on Aymir's spoiled carcass. She howled, rushing forward with her arms outstretched, and grabbed something from the tabletop. Angel barely had time to identify the weapon as a stake and jump backward before Nytala swung it at his heart. The tip grazed his arm, drawing a few drops of cold blood.

  "Nytala!” He grabbed her wrist and wrenched the stake away from her. Without hesitating, she flung herself onto Angel, clawing at his face and throat. Angel hurled her away and she landed deftly on all fours. Nytala sprang forward again, her mouth open in a snarl, and Angel turned the stake at the last moment, ramming it cleanly through her heart.

  Nytala was stronger than Angel had believed; her body did not melt into dust. She writhed for a moment on the stake, black heart's blood spurting from the hole in her chest. She flopped onto the floor, and for an instant, the disease released her.

  "Oh, my Angel ... my Aymir."

  The fierce mindlessness of the Nosferatu lit up in her eyes again, and she shuddered. Her body fell still, her mouth open in a distorted grimace.

  "Angel?"

  He looked up to see Phoenyx, trembling like a sparrow.

  "Angel, they're all like that. They're uncontrollable. Nytala was the last ... she drove the others out of here, she said she'd protect me.... Angel, what was that all about?"

  "Phoenyx, we have to get back in control now. Aymir was my son...” His voice broke again, but he forced himself to continue speaking. “Things are getting chaotic now. If we're not in control—"

  "We're not."

  "What?"

  "I dreamt that this would happen. They're all out of control, Angel."

  The ceiling overhead creaked, and Phoenyx flinched. “They're coming back."

  He looked down at the corpse on the table, remembered how he had wanted to be something, how he had wanted to create an empire for his human son. He had created his empire and he had abandoned his son to be murdered by a whore in a bar and now the fruits of his labor were knocking at the ceiling overhead.

  "I'm not leaving."

  "You can't fight them all, Angel."

  "Damned if I'll need to. I wasn't gone that long. Keep drinking, love."

  Angel left her there and climbed the stairs. A single Nosferatu scampered past him and he grabbed it by the back of the neck, simultaneously lifting and turning the creature so that he could get a better look at it. The Nosferatu hissed and spit, clawing at him. Surprised, Angel flung it against a wall. There was a snap as its neck broke. It lay there for a moment, then crawled to its feet, scampering down the hall toward the blood pantry, its head hanging at an odd angle. Curious, Angel followed.

  The room, though enormous, was packed with Nosferatu. Only a few glanced up at him as he opened the door, and none took any real notice of him. Blood was everywhere; the Nosferatu had broken the cases of blood open, and were bathing in the stuff. Every few seconds, one of them would rock back on his or her haunches and belch, sending a spray of mosquitoes into the air.

  A young, scantily-clothed female cavorted around the room, followed closely by a band of males with slack jaws and drool-slicked chins. She was carrying a cracked cube of blood, raising her head every second or so to lap at the leakage. The males following her yelped like dogs, slipping in the puddles forming on the floor and ramming into one another. Angel stood stock-still for a moment, unable to believe his Den had all gone to hell so rapidly. He stepped forward, reached out, and snatched the female by the throat. Immediately, the pandemonium stopped.

  Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to look at Angel. Every Nosferatu froze in place, fangs bared in possessive snarls. The female's eyes rolled madly in her skull. Angel stood there, not daring to breathe. Had he really regained control so easily?

  Both of her feet suddenly connected with Angel's stomach and he stumbled back. She wrenched herself out of his grasp and leapt for his throat, her hands hooked into claws and seeking unprotected flesh. He easily batted her away, back into the pantry.

  Several Nosferatu dropped from the ceiling, rolling over onto all fours and hissing, their bodies tensed like hunting cats. The rest of the group began to move at once, coming slowly toward him, their eyes blank and fixed. One leapt forward, hissing, and Angel raised an arm to hurl the creature back into the fray. Seven more leapt up, crowding through the door to get at him. He bucked forward, hurling five back into the room, but the others clung to him like leeches, biting and scratching, clamping hungry mouths onto his throat. He grabbed them and threw them off, but more were already charging toward the door. There were too many.

  Slamming the door, Angel tore a pair of female Nosferatu from his throat. A cacophony of shrieks and growls erupted behind the too-thin door that stood between him and the blood pantry. Angel, the brave Nest leader who had rose up from nothing to rule The City, ran.

  He fled down the stairs to where Phoenyx was waiting for him.

  "Is it safe?” she asked.

  "Run."

  "Where?"

  He hesitated. “Just...” They had left the pantry; he could hear their footsteps. He grabbed Aymir's corpse, grasped Phoenyx's wrist, and fled for the door.

  There were Nosferatu from dozens of other Nests. Some had been friendly, most had been opposing, but now they were all the same. They huddled in tight groups by the entrances and windows, yelping like dogs and screeching like cats. Angel trampled half a dozen of them on his way out, but twenty or so leapt up in his wake, forcing their way through the open door, toward the smell of blood. The rest of them ignored him. Were his still following him?

  "Angel? Where are we going?"

  He heard the howls of anger and surprise as his Nosferatu met the outsiders.

  "Away.” He pointed to a forested hilltop several miles away, just outside The City.

  Phoenyx frowned. “Won't they be there too?"

  "When there's still fresh human blood here for them to drink?"

  "True, but what if—"

  "No time."

  She nodded, and they fled together, leaving everything that they had built behind them.

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  29

  Intrigue rolled over onto her belly, moaning softly. There had been nothing for them at Sanctuary; the church had been desecrated. They had huddled together in a tight group during the day, the humans using their bodies to shield the vampires from the light flooding in through the broken windows. The anticipated safe haven had been a poor shelter from the sunlight. The sun had been fully eclipsed at around noon, and although they knew better than to trust such an occurrence to protect them, they had fled. Hawk had led the way; he was more comfortable than the others in the unusual darkness afforded by the eclipse.

  Intrigue coughed, resting her throbbing forehead against a cooler place on the tile. Her memories were a confused whirl of clashing color, but she could clearly remember Hawk's words as he poi
nted to the house.

  "That one's Intrigue's house. We'll be safe there."

  The moon had moved out of the way just as Hawk pushed the unlocked door open and the sun's edge had returned with blistering ferocity. Intrigue, at the back of the pack, had received the worst of the burns. The rays of light had seared her back as she fled into the dark shadows of the cool house. She had collapsed only a few footsteps later, the sun still at her exposed ankles. Hawk had rushed forward to slam the door, Crow had carried her to the kitchen and set her sunburnt body down on the cool tiles, and then ... what? She couldn't remember. Was this really her house?

  She blinked, clearing her head, and sat up. Her body screamed in protest; her skin felt like a single sheet of leather, stiff and painful. She ached all over, but she felt better still ... purer, somehow. Flakes of white powder sifted down from her shoulders onto the floor, and her vision swam as she stood, but she refused to lie back down. She had, after all, endured pain far more severe.

  This was her house.

  She had remembered nothing of it when she had awakened in the cold Warehouse, and she had felt alive, somehow, when she had stood in the black house that had belonged to Gemstone, but she felt a calm security here; an absolute certainty. She had stood in this kitchen before, her head throbbing as it did now, and she had made the fatal mistake of leaving for Tylenol. What would have happened if she hadn't made that choice? Would she still have been alive? Would the vampires have gotten her, or would someone else have come for her? Had Aymir been planning to take her anyway? Had it even been a choice?

  Her eyes settled on a small black case nestled between the microwave and the refrigerator. Her collection of knives was in that case. What might have happened that day, had she thought to slip a few blades into the side of her boots, or maybe tie one up in her hair?

  Pushing thoughts of what might have been aside, she wobbled through the kitchen and on into the living room.

  The others were still sleeping. Eleven forms in all; most of them were wrapped in heavy blankets. Arjuna's body was a heap by the doorway.

  She frowned and counted again. Eleven. Just eleven.

  Talon, Crow, and Caele lie in plain view on the floor, their faces tinged red from the sun. Her heart sinking toward her stomach, she approached the first blanket-wrapped body. Carefully, she pulled back the plushy fold of navy blanket and looked down at the creamy complexion of Adrienne's face. Carmine was wrapped up next to her, swathes of her hot red hair lying piled on the floor around her.

  The next body moved as soon as she touched it. She pulled back, and Jonathon's pulled the blanket off a second later, smiling up at her.

  "Intrigue, I'm—"

  She pressed a fingertip to his lips, shaking her head, and went on to the next blanket. Jonathon stood, looking at her perplexedly, but said nothing.

  Kshatriya, sleeping with a crucifix clutched to his throat. Caligula, his shock of snowy white hair covering his half-closed eyes. Hadrian, his laughing blue-green eyes open and staring at her. He smiled when she pulled back the blanket; he was awake already. Aurelius, the pockmarks on his face looking like old battle scars in the dim light of late dusk.

  Jonathon touched her shoulder and she turned around, not surprised to see that Hadrian had stood to join them. She frowned, looking around the room again. Talon, Crow, Caele, Adrienne, Carmine, Jonathon, Kshatriya, Caligula, Hadrian, Hawk, and Aurelius. Including herself, there were twelve. Who was missing? Her eyes happened onto Arjuna's body and she was momentarily disoriented. She had been carrying Arjuna's body when they approached the house and she was fairly certain that she could remember Adrienne taking Arjuna from her arms as she collapsed ... so why was the body there, sprawled where someone might easily trip on it?

  With sudden clarity, she remembered Arjuna, his cobalt eyes suddenly coming to life as he died ... and Belle, gathering him up in her arms, shouting that they couldn't abandon him...

  Belle.

  Intrigue swiveled, her eyes searching the room, although she knew that she wouldn't find what she was looking for. She turned to Jonathon and Hadrian, still hoping. After all, she'd been sleeping in another room; was there any reason why Belle shouldn't be?

  "Where's Belle?"

  Jonathon looked at her blankly, his lavender eyes blurred.

  "Dunno. Maybe she's trying to find something to eat."

  "Where was she sleeping?"

  "Over there. Beside Arjuna. She had his body wrapped up in a sheet; said something about wanting to stay close until we buried him."

  "Jonathon, Arjuna's body is over there. By the door."

  Jonathon turned, strode forward, and reached out to grab Arjuna's shoulder.

  Hadrian looked up sharply. “What do you think?"

  Jonathon ignored him and flipped the body onto its back. Arjuna's mouth grinned slackly at them and a foul odor rose from his body. Other than the mild decomposition, though, he looked much as he had when Intrigue had driven the stake through his heart.

  "Oh God ... Intrigue.... Oh God, no."

  She frowned, walking forward. Aurelius rolled over onto his back, blinking slowly. He muttered something up at her, but she waved her hand absently at him. Jonathon trembled violently but Intrigue was still clueless as to what had caused his extreme reaction. Arjuna's body was stiff with the beginnings of decay but otherwise looked completely normal.

  Except for a few long strands of black hair clinging to his face and throat.

  "She was here."

  "She took Belle?"

  "Belle wouldn't voluntarily leave Arjuna here like this."

  The others were stirring now. Crow stretched and came to stand next to Intrigue; she felt Gemstone reach up toward him from the depths of her mind, but ignored it.

  Kshatriya reached past Intrigue to pluck one of the telltale strands from Arjuna's body. He inspected it carefully, running his fingertips along its length, then looked back to Intrigue, his face grim. She pulled back, feeling that this couldn't possibly be happening.

  "Tyrhennia? She was here? In...” She paused, the words reluctant to rise to her lips. “In my house?"

  Talon placed her reassuringly on Intrigue's shoulder, steadying her. “Intrigue, you know we can't wait, don't you? Tyrhennia belongs to Angel now."

  Adrienne stepped forward, clutching a newly carved stake between her clasped hands. “We have to go now, Intrigue. Tonight. We need everyone. There's a good chance that Tyrhennia's using Belle as bait ... but that's all right, because we were planning on going on the offensive anyway. We need Belle."

  "I don't know, guys ... why don't we just ... drop the whole thing?” Caele swayed on her feet, her fangs far more pronounced than they had been when she had first met Intrigue in Asylum. “After all, it's not like they're any threat to us."

  All eyes turned to Caele. Her beauty had melted away almost entirely in the last few moments before her descent toward the shadowy Nosferatuism. As they watched, speechless, the spark of life flickered in her eyes and went out. She stood there a moment longer, swaying side to side, then lunged forward.

  Caele's hands closed around Crow's throat, her mouth open and gleaming with. He screamed and pulled away from her but she was after him in an instant. Intrigue's eyes widened as Caele's canines scraped slivers of flesh from Crow's exposed neck.

  Intrigue felt Gemstone reach up into her mind again, felt ethereal hands guiding hers to the stake in her shirt, and she swung the weapon downward, planting it squarely into Caele's black heart.

  Caele's head snapped backward and she howled, dropping Crow onto his back. Hot ribbons of blood spurted from her back and Caele flopped over onto her side, writhing in pain. Her fangs fell out of her mouth and she rolled over onto her back, looking up at Intrigue through eyes fogged with pain.

  "Didn't you love him?"

  The stream of blood slowed, then stopped, and Caele issued a final shuddering sigh. She died quietly and most of her body immediately dissolved into dust.

  Intrigue dro
pped to her knees beside Crow, inadvertently scattering Caele's ashes. Crow was squirming on his back, his light brown eyes wide. A narrow band of blood trickled from a shallow laceration on the side of his throat; Intrigue hadn't moved quickly enough.

  "Crow?"

  He trembled uncontrollably and Intrigue reached down and ran a sympathetic hand across his cheek. She tore a swath of cloth from Caele's shirt and pressed it against Crow's throat and he flinched from her touch. She moved with him, holding the fabric tight against the cut. Adrienne knelt beside her a moment later and brushed Intrigue's hand aside. She held the cloth down and Intrigue's hands were free to do other work.

  She pulled a vial of the healing oil from her pocket, then slipped her fingers into Crow's mouth. She forced his mouth open and ran her fingertips over his canines, carefully searching for any irregularities. Finding none, she poured half the vial down Crow's throat as a precaution and motioned Adrienne aside.

  The wound was not nearly as severe as Intrigue had feared; there were two parallel cuts in his throat where Caele's fangs had grazed his throat. They were each about an inch long but neither had penetrated deep into the skin. Intrigue smeared some oil across the incisions, and Crow snapped upright, howling in pain.

  "Crow?"

  Her stomach sank when she realized that his teeth had lengthened a bit, but she kept her face straight. She pressed the vial of oil into his hand and he embraced her, pressing his face into her shoulder. Surprised, she pulled back, but Hawk was standing behind her and he pressed his hand against her shoulder, refusing to allow her up.

  "Intrigue?” Crow leaned back to look into her eyes.

  "Yes, Crow?"

  "I still love you."

  Gemstone flooded into her mind, screeching and pushing her toward him, but Intrigue pulled back. Gem was a memory, no more, and Intrigue would not allow herself to be controlled by ghosts who had never really existed. Intrigue stood up, pulling herself firmly out of Crow's grasp.