The little girl shied away from me, and Galahad put up a hand. “Don’t worry, Martha. You don’t need to go anywhere near the monsters. But can you tell us how to get to them?”
Martha nodded. “Are you looking for the bad girl?” she asked, her face serious. Galahad nodded. “If I take you to her, will you make her go away?” Galahad nodded again. “This way.” Galahad got to his feet, still cradling Fran against him.
Martha led us down a side corridor, one that was covered in dust and rat droppings. Fran’s and Martha’s bodies gave off enough light for us to see a few feet in front of us, and the boss didn’t want to risk more light. I flipped on my kobold night vision and got an eyeful of graffiti along the walls, some of it written in a dark reddish-brown that made me shudder when I saw it. How many people had been brought down here and experimented on? And what kind of sick bastard would then go and use their blood to paint on the walls?
Martha stopped in front of a set of cracked concrete steps and pointed up them. They led to a heavy wooden door, the old-fashioned kind with an iron ring for a handle. “That’s where Carmilla is?” Galahad asked. “The bad girl?” Martha nodded. “Thank you, Martha. Thank you, Fran,” he said as he knelt to put Fran down. “ We’ll take it from here. Go on to your rest now, there are people on the other side who have missed you.” Fran gave Galahad another hug, Galahad whispered something in Latin, and the two girls faded from sight. He made a blessing where they’d been standing and lowered his head. A moment later, Galahad got to his feet and wiped his eyes.
I put a hand on Galahad’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, boss,” I said.
He smiled at me. “Let’s finish this.”
Chapter 19
Croatoan’s shell has certain powers I am still experimenting with. The Caulborn monitor my activities, so I can’t do anything too grandiose. Just the same, this form is much more advanced than the cloned bodies I’ve been using. Their fragility was tiresome, though that could have been different had I been able to find the supposed cloning facility located in the Hoosac Tunnel. Not something I need to concern myself with now.
— From Treggen’s personal journal
We took the stairs one at a time, pausing on each one to examine it for traps, which meant it took us nearly five minutes to get to the top. I checked the rose I had in my jacket, and Galahad did the same. Only Megan wasn’t carrying one, because the enchanted flower would just as soon attack her as it would Carmilla.
“This is too easy,” I said. “That psoglav that got away must’ve been going to warn Carmilla. We haven’t hit any vampiric resistance since then. This is totally a trap.”
Galahad nodded. “Yes, but we need to get through that door. How do you suggest we proceed?”
“Gears, can you see what’s on the other side of the door?” I asked.
Billy’s eyes flickered with static, then the mech shook its head. “I think they lined the door with lead, Vinnie. I can’t get any readings through it.”
Damn, these guys were thorough. Okay, time to get creative. I flexed extradimensional energy around me. We were entering an area that was lined with wards. Concentrating as hard as I could, using everything I had, focusing exclusively on the extradimensional energy, I could just Open a portal the size of a quarter. It’d do. “Back down the stairs,” I said, letting the portal snap shut. As we descended, I said, “Megan, do you have any grenades in your pocket dimension?”
“One shrapnel, one flash bang,” she replied.
“Get the shrapnel one ready,” I said. Megan rolled her wrist, and the explosive appeared in her hand. I paused, considering. “And, Galahad, if you would be so kind as to bless that?” The former priest obliged. I didn’t know if the blessing would help, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. “Gears, Jake, you guys be ready to charge in.” They nodded. I let out a breath. “Be ready on my mark, Megan,” I said. I created another quarter-sized portal just an inch from the door and pushed my index finger through. When my fingertip made contact with the door, I Opened it. The door swung open, squealing loudly on its metal hinges.
Almost immediately, a column of fire erupted through the door and surged against the stone ceiling. The three of us dropped to the ground, the fire sizzling overhead. A moment later, the flames died away. I gestured at Megan, who pulled the pin of her grenade and flung it into the room. There was a whuff sound, followed by a second explosion. An inhuman wail of pain and suffering reverberated around us, and Jake, Gears, and I shot up the steps, ready to deal with whatever was beyond.
The final psoglav was nearly burned beyond recognition. He’d been wielding some kind of makeshift flamethrower, with a fuel tank on his back. The shrapnel from Megan’s grenade had punctured it and had covered the creature in napalm. Its blackened skin split further as it tried to move. Galahad moved into the room, knelt down next to the creature, blessed it, and then calmly drove the blade of his sword through its heart. A mercy kill. He sighed and got back to his feet.
“I believe there is one more psoglav to deal with,” Galahad said. “How many more upyr does Carmilla have?”
“Two, I think,” Megan said. “But no telling how many local vampires she’s compelled.”
I glanced around. This room had completely been done in the extradimensional-blocking runes. Straining with everything I had, I could just make a portal the diameter of a ballpoint pen, and I was only able to hold it open for a couple of seconds.
I gestured to the one door off this passage, to our left side. “Door number two?” I asked. Galahad nodded, and I stood with my back to the wall next to the door. Slightly off to the side, Megan had her pocket cannon trained on the door. Behind her, Gears had Billy’s laser wrist blaster at the ready.
Megan nodded at me, and I reached out and Opened the door. No fire or bullets came through this time. I glanced at Megan, who gave me another nod. I snapped on my kobold night vision and looked down the hallway. “Looks clear,” I said. We ventured in. This passage was cramped, like it had been made for people only five feet tall. Even Megan had to stoop a bit as we traversed it.
We’d been moving for a few minutes when I started getting tired. It had been a long… jeez, how long had it been? Between the riot at Ashgate, Sakave, the Urisk, I’d been fighting non-stop for so long that I’d lost track of time. My body was slowing down, and all I wanted to do was just lie down and sleep for a month. Boy, that sounded like a great idea. I stopped walking and leaned against the wall. I glanced behind me and saw Megan and Galahad were doing the same. Megan bumped into the wall and began sliding down it. Jake caught her before she dropped and gently shook her. Gearstripper was kneeling next to me; I didn’t remember falling down.
“Vinnie? Can you hear me?”
“Boss,” I slurred. “Something’s not right.”
“Some kind of gas,” Gearstripper said, as Billy’s eyes flickered. “Jake, help me get them out of here.”
“No,” Galahad wheezed, and produced his sword. The holy blade shone brightly in the corridor, and a ripple of light ran along its surface. A moment later, a fog lifted from my mind, and I felt, well, not refreshed, but nowhere nearly as weary as I had a moment ago.
“I forgot your sword could purify water and air,” I said, as Gears helped me to my feet. Jake was helping Megan up, and Galahad was rubbing his temples. “Thanks, boss.”
Galahad still looked tired, but that wasn’t unusual. More concerning was that my healing factor hadn’t compensated for that gas; had the upyr knowingly used something I couldn’t heal, or had they just gotten lucky? I filed the question away for later as the five of us continued on.
The passage ended in a large four-way junction. The ceiling finally opened up here to something fifteen or twenty feet high. I didn’t really care, as long as I could stand without kinking my back. The sound of running water was coming from somewhere ahead. Maybe we
were near another pumping station?
Then there was a gunshot, and Megan fell back against the wall, red running from her stomach.
I shot toward her, already summoning kobold healing energy. Even as I placed my hand on her side, another shot took her in the shoulder. In the stone rooms, every shot echoed and reverberated like cannon fire. Megan screamed and spasmed as a third shot struck her in the other shoulder.
No no no no. The kobold energy surged from me, both probing and healing at the same time. Megan’s flesh knit and the fractured collarbone she’d just sustained began to fuse. Oddly enough, none of those shots had struck any major organs; it was like they were trying to miss. And the more I thought about that, the more I realized that was the case; if Treggen wanted Megan alive, they’d shoot her in non-fatal ways, but they knew I’d burn through my resources to heal her.
Bastards.
Galahad was putting out holy light from his sword, driving away the shooter, an upyr who was sticking to the ceiling like a spider. The upyr’s skin sizzled as the light touched it, but it was high enough that it was able to scamper away and assume mist form to drift into a small pipe and escape.
Galahad was kneeling beside me. “How is she?”
“Almost done,” I said, concentrating. The last of the bullets worked its way up through Megan’s skin and fell to the floor with a click. I let out a breath and wiped a hand across my forehead. How many shots would Orcus have let Megan take before he didn’t consider her “fine?” Did he know that I’d been trying to heal her? I pushed the thoughts aside; there’d be time for those questions later.
Megan got to her feet and swayed. While I can heal damage, I can’t replace lost blood. Luckily, I’d gotten to Megan fast enough. I checked my faith reserves. That healing had taken a lot out of me. I had enough for a few more tricks, but with luck, we wouldn’t need more than that.
Of course, that thought had barely formed before more gunshots rang out, this time striking both Galahad and Megan. Megan had been hit in the leg, but Galahad was struck in the chest. I worked as fast as I could, placing hands on both Megan and Galahad at once, sending healing energy into them. They groaned as the bullets forced their way out of their bodies. My kobold faith reserves were now completely empty.
“You are impressive, Vincent Corinthos,” a voice said from all around me. “One cannot help but admire your tenacity.”
I recognized the voice. “Carmilla,” I called. “Enough of this. You want a fight? Come out and fight.”
The strigoi mort appeared from mist just a few feet to my right. “You truly wish to fight me? Treggen’s notes were wrong. You are not reckless; you are suicidal.”
“You’re the one who picked a fight with a paladin and a god,” Gearstripper called out. “Seems you’re the one with the death wish.”
Four more people entered the intersection, behind Carmilla. A couple of them were compelled vamps, I could tell that by their eyes. I guessed the two with red eyes instead of white were her last remaining upyr.
“You are clever, Corinthos,” Carmilla said, ignoring Gears. “I admire your resourcefulness. When my people found these”—she gestured at the far side of the room, where the skeletons Thad had prepped lay—“I thought perhaps you were dead. But I learned long ago not to make assumptions. And, I was right.”
“Congratulations,” I said, giving a golf clap. “You’re a genius.”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Any last words, Corinthos?”
“Yep,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Sic ’em.” Upon uttering this command phrase, the skeletons Thad had enchanted earlier sprang to life and began attacking the nearest undead. I’d been banking that the upyr would need to steal our “remains” as proof for Treggen that they’d finished the job. So by imbuing those skeletons with a simple eldritch enchantment, Thad had created a Caulborn sleeper force.
The skeletons wouldn’t be good for long; Thad had only been able to perform a minor imbuement, but it made the skeletons effective cannon fodder so that the rest of us could take a breath and then move more surgically against the upyr.
At least, that had been the plan. As the vamps engaged with the skeletons, a pair of rusalka and another psoglav came charging into the room. The psoglav went right for Galahad. Galahad’s sword flashed out, taking the psoglav in the chest, but the dog-headed demon rode Galahad to the ground, pinning him there beneath its corpse.
Meanwhile, Gearstripper and Jake were back to back, Gears’s laser pulsing and Jake swinging with the axe. I went for my switchblade, and then Carmilla was in front of me, grabbing me by my shirt and hurling me across the room like a rag doll. Stars flashed in my vision, and I cried out as my ribs cracked.
Jesus she was fast. I tried for the chronometer, to slow time down, but she was there again, and then I was flying across the room a second time.
Weaknesses. Think about her weaknesses. Van Helsing had said that some kinds of music were painful to Carmilla.
“Gears,” I croaked out. He and Jake were just a few feet away, both engaged in hand-to-hand combat. “Do you have any music in that thing? Play some hymns if you do.”
“Yeah,” I heard him call back as he used another Johnny Cage nutbuster to disorient his attacker. “Give me a sec to load up Pandora.”
But Gears never got that chance. One of the rusalka leveled its speargun at the mech and fired. The spear went straight through Billy’s chest and out the other side, pinning the mech against the wall. I stared at the spot for a second, unable to believe what I was seeing. That spear had gone right through Gearstripper’s cockpit.
The rusalka’s head exploded as an elemental fireball engulfed it, and I spun to immolate the other one. The scent of cooked fish filled the air as the second one died, ablaze and screaming.
I started to scramble toward the mech, but then Carmilla was there again, hurling me across the room. Something cracked in my face. My ears were ringing and my vision blurred. I hit the ground, dazed. She had me. I couldn’t fight back.
But Carmilla didn’t finish me off. As my healing kicked in and the ringing in my ears subsided, I heard something. A song. A hymn.
The voice was so beautiful, so rich, that it was practically angelic. I got to my knees, my ribs knitting, my face popping back to its normal shape.
Jake was singing “Ave Maria” in Latin. Puffs of electric blue breath streamed from his mouth as he belted out the lyrics, his face screwed up as if the act was painful.
But it was working. Carmilla had her hands over her ears, black blood oozing through her fingers. Her eyes were flared so brightly as she strained to maintain her hold on the undead that it looked like she had twin suns in her face. I staggered to my feet, my switchblade dropping into my hand. Megan was trying to interrupt Carmilla’s compulsion with some of her own and Galahad was still struggling to get out from under the psoglav, but if I was fast enough, I could kill Carmilla right now and be done with it.
I staggered toward her, ready to use my switchblade like a stake.
And then Jake ran out of Breath.
The song cut out mid verse, and the security guard fell to the ground, stiff as a board.
The word “shit” hadn’t even formed in my mind before Carmilla was on me again, her claws raking across my chest and driving into my stomach. I felt her claws inside me, shredding my innards. I knew she wouldn’t kill me, not until she’d been able to feed on me, but this was pain like I’d never felt before. Her hand closed around my spine, and she wrenched her wrist. There was a crack like a branch breaking as my spine snapped.
I screamed and hit the ground, unable to move my legs. The pain was blinding, searing fury running through my stomach and torso. I couldn’t feel anything below my waist, but I could see part of my intestines on the ground. Shock started to set in as I tried to scoop my insides up and put them back wh
ere they belonged. Distantly, I was aware of my own continued screams. A tiny piece of me, one I could barely hear, was wondering if I could heal from this.
It seemed I could, because I felt my intestines wind their way back where they belonged, and the blinding light of pain faded from behind my eyes. What I saw wasn’t pretty. Gears was down, maybe dead. Jake was down. Megan was on her knees, hands at her temples, white light glowing behind her closed eyelids. The other upyr were frozen as Megan stole their wills and kept them from advancing.
Carmilla could have killed her, could have struck her down, but instead, she turned to Galahad, who had finally managed to disentangle himself from the psoglav’s corpse. The boss looked like he might have a broken rib by the way he was carrying himself. But his eyes were hard and focused on the strigoi mort.
Carmilla tipped her head at him. “So you are the fallen priest that the vampires here fear so much. They tell me you are incorruptible, a man of such moral fiber and faith that you can destroy the strongest of the undead with a wave of your sword.”
Said sword materialized in Galahad’s hand, and Carmilla shied away from its radiance. She shifted to mist form, drifted up to the ceiling, and then solidified, dropping down atop the boss like a cat. Carmilla’s claws raked across Galahad’s face, tearing huge chunks of flesh. The boss cried out, but swung upward, slicing a burning wound in Carmilla’s shoulder. The strigoi mort hissed and launched herself backward. Unlike other wounds I’d seen her take, this one did not heal. Carmilla’s arm hung useless by her side.
Deep cuts ran along Galahad’s brow and cheek; Carmilla had missed tearing out his eyes by millimeters. And despite that, the boss barely winced, seeming to ignore the pain completely, focused solely on Carmilla. “This ends now,” Galahad said, his voice hard.
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