His skin felt taut and his extremities tingled as if he’d stuck his finger into an electric socket long enough to fry his synapses.
“You gonna be okay?” Etienne placed a warm hand on Trystan’s shoulder. In that instant it was as if Etienne’s heartbeat sent a jolt through Trystan’s flesh and he shrank away from the boy as if stung, falling out of the car to dry-heave onto the tarmac. He had nothing to bring up but the ancient muscle-memory still existed.
“What the fuck!” Arwen exclaimed. “Trystan! Are you all right?”
“I’ll– Be fine. Just neither of you touch me for the next half-hour or so. Please!”
Static buzzed in Trystan’s ears, his senses on hyper alert, like someone turned up the volume switch. Crickets he knew to be almost a kilometer away sounded as if they were five paces from him. His only consolation was that whatever afflicted him would have had a similar effect on the vampires who were hunting Helen. No doubt Mantis, as sensitive as she was, was still writhing in agony after the psychic assault, which meant that if he could recover quicker, he’d have an advantage. His obvious lack of weapons didn’t help, though.
He’d have to wing it and hope the right kind of opportunity presented itself.
Trystan sat up, massaging his temples. “Okay kids, Uncle Trystan here is going on ahead.”
If it were possible for Arwen’s already pale face to go any whiter, it would have.
Closing his eyes, Trystan reached, tentatively at first when his consciousness encountered the steady drone of a heavy undercurrent of natural Essence that hadn’t been there earlier. The power drowned out the signatures of the others then muffled further attempts to push through with a buzz of static that had him withdrawing quickly.
Deep unease settled in the pit of his stomach. If there was so much natural Essence here then why had the Johannesburg vampires not found a way to drain it or harness it? What could be more powerful than some of the oldest vampires on the African continent?
Chapter 35
Disintegrating
Arwen found it difficult to mask her fear. How many witches could boast that they’d found themselves in a similar predicament during the past century? Not even her father could. Or, had he and he had good enough reason to avoid further calamities? Part of Arwen suspected the latter and she shivered.
Still dizzy from the flash of Essence, she sat as still as possible, her fingers curled loosely around the beadwork sun. She had stolen it from Helen’s bedroom, still unsure as to why she had lied to Anabel about wanting to use the bathroom.
She had had to get something of Helen’s.
Etienne sat behind her, fidgeting. Trystan had darted off, yet another shadow in a night filled with sharp teeth and talons. Arwen didn’t want to admit she was at a complete loss as to what they needed to do.
“Are we going to sit here the whole night and wait for one of those vampires to come get us?” Etienne asked.
“Just give me a minute.”
“We’ve been waiting for five minutes already.”
“I know. I’m thinking.”
“I thought you had a plan.”
“I do, kind of,” Arwen replied. Her plan would involve an hour of ritual work in a controlled environment but she was not about to tell him that.
“Well?”
The thing was, she could lie to Etienne, make him believe a few moments’ mumbo-jumbo would have the desired effect, only to have them stumble into a scenario where they would be at a distinct disadvantage...or she could admit that...
“Well, nothing!” Arwen snapped. “Give me a moment.”
“I’ve had enough moments.” Etienne shifted about on the back seat so that the springs squeaked and the suspension juddered. “I’m not going to wait around for something to find us. I didn’t come all this way to just leave Helen in the lurch.”
“Ah, hell!” Arwen would have to try, at least, and pray she could somehow make her working succeed without the careful preparations to which she was accustomed.
Etienne had a point. Out in the car park they’d be sitting ducks. Whether they remained here or tried to sneak around in the dark, if those other vampires were out looking for a human it would not take them long to zone in on them.
Out in the garden, moving between pockets of natural Essence, it would be like playing a game of hide and seek, but with much higher stakes.
“Wait, Etienne, okay. I’m going to do this thing but I’ve no idea if it will work. For one, I’ve never actually tried this before and, for two, I’m going to be doing this in a very unusual way.”
“Way to go, Arwen. So, this may or may not work. Either way we end up as some lousy vamp’s dinner.”
Arwen growled under her breath as she opened the car door, got out and slammed it hard. “Etienne, you were the one who dragged me out a day early from the hospital to go off on this idiotic chase. ‘Helen’s in danger,’ you said and like a fool I allowed you to get me involved in–”
“You wouldn’t have had a choice.” Etienne climbed out, and looked pointedly at her while he exaggerated not slamming the back passenger door.
“So? I would have stayed in Nieu Bethesda but no, you got me all worked up to go along.”
“None of this–”
“Yes! I’ve heard both you and death breath tell me that one ad nauseam. Lemme tell you what, I don’t care! I’m in this mess now. Whether it’s of my own devising or not, something should be done. There’s no point in me apologizing but at the same time I’m also well aware of the fact that I can get both of us killed.”
“Then stop wasting time! Do what you can else I will sneak off and try to the best of my abilities to not get killed. What would your father or your aunt do in this situation?” He grabbed her by the wrists and she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. His fingers were clammy and cold against her flesh.
“Neither Szandor nor Sonja would find themselves in this predicament in the first place.”
“So? Do what you can and stop doubting yourself.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “All right. Just allow me to calm myself.” Arwen swallowed, her throat tight. She would have to visualize the working, pretend that she had all her tools and the right setting.
“Okay, Etti. What I’ll need you to do is to keep chips while I work. Stand behind me. Move when I move so that you mirror my position. Only if you see something that is out of place or may be a potential threat must you interrupt me.”
This would be the reverse of what she did with Helen that fate-filled night. Once she’d taken a steadying breath, she stood straighter then moved to the side of the car that would obscure them from prying eyes that might watch from the garden’s entrance.
“How long will it take?” Etienne asked.
“Five minutes, maybe.”
Once in place, she closed her eyes and gestured for Etienne to stand behind her. Arwen knew immediately when the small boy slipped into the right position, his buzz of Essence low. Why hadn’t she noticed its peculiar shape before? But now was not the time to look deeper. All that was important was that he beat a steady counterpoint to her energy. She regulated her breathing and listened out for the insect chorus and its variations, as well as the distant rush of cars on the main road. These sounds she accepted, concentrating on the scents, first of Etienne’s salt-stale smell and the sun-baked tar still warm through the soles of her sneakers. Underneath this was the loam brown of rotting vegetation which emanated from the garden.
Arwen drew three breaths then visualized a great ball of white light above her head. She drew a snaking line of it through her crown and felt it enter the earth through her feet.
Which way was north? Panic welled up and she struggled to suppress it. Did it matter? Just choose a quarter and start, she urged herself and turned from where she was certain the sun had set to what she hoped was north. “If you’re not sure it’s going to be correct, fake it,” Aunt Sonja always said.
“Guardians of the north, keepers of
fire, I call upon you to witness this working.” Her voice sounded too thin, too high.
Arwen pictured a crackling fire before her, its heat beating against her skin with its tongues. Then she turned a few steps to her right, aware of Etienne shuffling along behind her.
“Guardians of the east, keepers of air, I call upon you to witness this working.”
She wasn’t certain if she imagined it but a cool breeze teased gooseflesh over her skin. After drawing another deep breath, she turned again, to what she thought should be the south.
“Guardians of the south, keepers of earth, I call upon you to witness this working.”
The scent of freshly turned soil filled Arwen’s nostrils, more pungent than earlier. Whether this was purely because she had attuned herself to her senses or that her working proved successful, she could not be certain.
Lastly, she turned to the west. “Guardians of the west, keepers of water, I call upon you to witness this working.”
At that instance the sprinklers in the undergrowth switched on, causing Arwen to start, but she could not afford to break her concentration. Synchronicity was a wonderful thing and sometimes it could be downright eerie.
The last part of her working involved framing the thought of a veil covering both herself and Etienne. She pictured it as a mist that would lift when the sun rose. Each action had to have set limitations.
“It is done.” Arwen clapped her hands then turned, her legs wobbling. She faced Etienne, who frowned up at her.
“Is that it?” he asked. “What’s this supposed to do?”
“For all intents and purposes, we should be invisible to vampires. Obviously if we stumble into their line of sight or make a great big noise, we’re screwed, but if we can remain hidden then we might be able to stand a chance at remaining that.”
“And if they catch us?”
“Then I’m not quite sure what we’ll do. Run?”
Chapter 36
Last Gasp
Helen struggled to recover from the shockwave that had ripped through her body. The sensation had been like the time she had accidentally touched an exposed electrical wire when she was five. The urge to cry out nearly overwhelmed her.
Beyond her haven, the garden had grown far too quiet for her liking. Apart from the steady splash of water from the fountain, she could hear little else. Helen closed her eyes and controlled her breathing so she did not give herself away by gasping for air. Did vampires need to breathe?
The fear paralyzed her. She’d hated playing hide-and-seek as a child, hated waiting and not knowing where the seeker was. In an ideal world she would trust her hiding place, trust Bijou, but the very real fear of discovery had her twitching to keep moving.
This game was not like when she was little. If they found her now, she’d be dead. Was there worse than dead?
She shivered and her fingers clenched moisture from the wet fabric of her jeans. Perhaps she should try to reach out, make sure where the others were. That way there would be no surprises.
Helen closed her eyes and sent out a tendril of consciousness in the same way as she’d done earlier. The task proved easier now but she recoiled within an instant, her mind reeling from a sharp pain. This had not happened the last time.
She massaged her temples, groaning under her breath until the sensation faded. Why was this? Was this somehow linked to the magical discharge of earlier?
This was as good as being blind.
Helen elected to obey Bijou’s instructions, hating the inactivity and that she had no idea what happened elsewhere.
The barking–more a burst of hyena-like laughter–sounded from nearby and she froze. Too close, she daren’t move, daren’t breathe. Damn, and it was too dark to see. Then it became quiet for a long while and she swore she could smell fish.
A twig snapped, so loud it was an explosion by the pond’s edge. Males spoke in low voices. “You see anything, Fenrir?”
“Nothing yet. I’ve last checked when Jason was up by the rose garden. The bitch is here but things are too static to figure out her position. Feels like someone’s half bludgeoned me to death.”
“Bah, damn magicians. Should have expected they’d get mixed up in this, though. Have you heard anything–”
“Nothing from... Let’s rather not discuss it. I’m as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Is the girl really worth the effort?”
“Do I have to answer your question? How would you feel if the Black Pope laid hands on her...or even if Ashton Murray bestirred himself to try?”
“You’re right, Johannes. I’ll go up past the cacti again. It’s just... It’s getting worse.”
“I know. Can’t put my finger on it. Don’t really want to talk about it now. Later?”
“Get the girl. Get the hell outta here. I agree.”
To Helen they sounded like ordinary humans, but they weren’t human, were they? Did she want to find out? The Black Pope and Ashton Murray didn’t sound like people she’d want to meet.
She lay still for a while yet, conscious of the area being too quiet and the grit on the ledge ingrained in her skin. Fenrir...Jason...Johannes, three plus the bitch, who could only be the black-haired woman of earlier, who’d killed Mama Ruthie. Their voices had sounded breathy, with a slight quaver. Something kept them from their earlier triumphant baying. What could unsettle vampires?
Tentatively, Helen stretched her senses, all of them, half expecting a lash of pain. Much to her relief, the pain had receded to a mild headache. She pushed out farther, beyond her immediate environs. It was like wading through a maelstrom of energy swarming and bunching randomly.
If she moved about, all she would need to do was stick to the thick bunches.
That seemed a promising alternative. So long as she remained out of sight and sound she could sneak away. Eventually they would think to look where she hid at present or they’d find some way of flushing her out. She had to move.
Where was everyone? She had great difficulty untangling individual signatures from the constant flux. Whatever Bijou had done earlier had succeeded in stirring up the environment in a most unnerving way. Helen tried to reach out, counting one, two...no five vampiric stains showing up like dark, nebulous blots. None of them were close. Of Bijou there was no sign but, knowing the girl, she had most likely succeeded in cloaking her presence. Perhaps she had matched one of the roving pockets of high energy?
Some thing stirred and coiled as Helen’s consciousness brushed up against it. She pulled back as quickly as she could manage. The awareness was a vast, unimaginable alien intelligence that, at the same time, twisted as she beheld it.
“I will know you, bright one.”
That communication provided the impetus Helen needed to get moving. Vampires on their tail or not, her and Bijou’s coming to the park had been a very bad mistake.
“Helen, no!” Bijou spoke in her mind. Helen ignored her and rolled off the ledge, stumbling so that she fell in the water with a splash.
Too loud. A dead giveaway.
Every step she took sent clearly audible signals of her position. A dark thicket beckoned ahead of her and she made for the cover, scant as it was. Just behind her goal–flaming through a tree–was a pocket of energy that could shield her.
Each step Helen took she expected someone to tackle her and throw her to the ground. Cruel thorns tore into her skin as she crashed through the bushes until she changed course and found a narrow pathway, which she followed as quietly as she could.
Helen tried not to gasp for breath. What hope in hell did she have evading experienced hunters?
Five against one. She was screwed.
She stretched out her awareness again, alarmed by the proximity of two of the vampires she’d sensed earlier.
Time to go to ground.
The next nearest pocket of power was across a narrow walkway and she dashed toward it. The only natural landmark hiding her from prying eyes was a stand of bamboo but if she crouched and sat still, she might fool a c
asual glance. All the while, the other two closed in.
I’m not here. I’m not here.
Her mouth went dry and her limbs twitched with the need to run as far and as fast as possible.
The first vampire passed through an open patch of lawn to her left, a tall, thin man with a beak-like nose. He paused in mid stride when he stood abreast of her hiding place, so close she could see how his nostrils flared.
I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here.
He frowned, his skin almost translucent in the starlight. Then he shook his head as if trying to get water out of his hair, and stalked away, stopping every two or three paces.
Helen allowed herself to sag. Now, where was the other one? She pushed out her awareness, gratified that this business of becoming more psychically aware became easier with each attempt. She would have cursed out loud if she could, however, for it was as if a thick mist had descended over the area.
The only consolation was that they might be as blind as she was. This thought did not bring as much comfort as she’d hoped. Given time, they would, no, could run her down. Until the dawn. The sunrise seemed impossibly distant in her future.
Helen watched and waited a while longer, desperate to move but equally afraid that no place she sought would prove as safe as any other. What were her options? Should she make for the car? Would the vampires be watching that exit, knowing their prey might choose to make a break for it? Choices were good. A big park in the heart of an urban environment would have more than one entry point, though. That made sense. How would they hunt for her? Perhaps they’d try to cover as much ground, watch as many of the main thoroughfares. Vampires couldn’t be in all places at the same time.
One last attempt at gaining a better understanding beyond the supernatural mist that swirled about the garden proved futile, so she listened for any suspicious noise–none–looked for movement then clung to the periphery of the wooded section ahead of her, putting down each step with care.
She’d thought her way clear until a man spoke quietly by her ear, his voice masculine but gentle. Johannes. “Going somewhere, girl? Do you know how eagles hunt? Sometimes the pairs will fly with one visible, the other following, out of sight. The prey will concentrate so much on the visible bird they often forget that there is another.”
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