“Your Rayne is more than pretty—she is so, so clever. She gave us time.”
“You were dead.”
“Then my acting is as good as hers. No, not dead, waiting. Free to call backup.” Noel shoves a gun into my hand, my gun, and drags a protective vest over my head. “Hurry. Your Wensleydale and his pack will round up the runners, but we must catch the leader.”
Too fast. Too much. I don’t—
“Dani?”
I spin to face my sister. “Pip? I’m here, yes I’m here.”
Each word labours, rough and awkward, past a ravaged throat. “I’m…okay.”
“Mierda, what’s this?” Noel takes one look at Pippa and slaps a hand to his headset “Omega team, get down here. I have a class two vampire bite, evac needed two minutes ago.” Pause. “I don’t care, come through now…I said, now.”
I move closer, but he snags my arm. “Dee-Dee, we have to go.”
“Pippa—”
“There’s nothing more you can do right now. Rayne will stay with her.”
“No. No, I won’t let her hurt—”
He shakes my shoulders. “Yes. She protected you, now she protects your sister. Now you have one thing left to do, sí? What are you?”
“I…”
He shakes me again. “What are you?”
“I-I’m a SPEAR.”
“Yes!” He squeezes my arms. “And what do you do?”
“I don’t…”
“What do you do, Agent Karson? My friend.”
“Protect and serve.” My voice strengthens. “Learn and understand.” Even my back straightens as I shift my grip on the gun. “Hunt and exterminate.”
“Oh yes, Dee-Dee.” He slaps my shoulder. “Now we go do it.”
Pippa lifts her hand, all but her smallest finger curled down. “Don’t…let them…win.”
“I promise.” I curve my little finger around hers. “On my locs and hope to trim. Vixen’s going down.”
Chapter Thirty-two
My head is swimming, but movement helps to clear it.
This is what I’ve trained for, what I’ve lived for since I joined the regiment. Gun in my hand, trusted colleagues at my back and ahead, a violent threat in need of termination.
Most of the edanes have scattered or fallen, caught off guard by the first attack with the incense bomb, or mowed down by advancing SPEARs. A few of the werewolves have tried to shift, but the silver content of the bomb stutters the change and leaves them caught between human and hybrid forms.
Beyond the huge meeting space, another set of tunnels leads further off into the facility. The ones to the left and right are dim and blank, but the centre tunnel echoes with the running footsteps of fleeing vampires. A trail of blood leads the way in.
“You, you, and you, come with us.” Noel points as he runs. “You others, relay to Quinn: we pursue the queen. Make sure Omega can get through.”
I stop at the tunnel edge, back to the wall. Deep breath in.
Protect and serve.
“Ready?” Noel positions himself on the other side of the tunnel.
Learn and understand.
Slow breath out.
“Let’s go.”
Hunt and exterminate.
Three of Wendy’s wolves bound past me into the tunnel. They spring like mountain goats, using walls and floor in equal measure. My surprise lasts only an instant before I follow, using their huge furry bodies as cover.
The wolves find the stragglers quickly and charge straight through. Vampires scatter left and right, some falling, others crawling up the walls, all of them yelling and spitting in fury.
Noel nudges my arm and cocks his head left.
I sidestep the snarling, slashing melee on the ground without breaking stride. One of the vampires snatches at my leg, but I leap over it and keep running. Always running.
More vampires ahead.
Noel hurls another incense bomb. Cloudy white strands burst through the air.
Coughing. Cursing. Choking. Dying.
I sprint through, legs pumping, arms swinging, gaze fixed forward.
I know I’m too far ahead. I know the other agents are falling back, unable to keep up with my frantic pace, but I can’t stop. There’s only one thing left now. One last thing.
“Dee-Dee, down!”
Too slow.
An outstretched arm slams into my throat, and I drop back on my arse, fighting the rush of bile clawing up from my gut.
Can’t breathe.
Noel slides ahead of me and fires a single shot.
Nothing.
“Who is it?” I ask. Or I try to. My throat burns and only the weakest wheeze works past my lips.
More smoke swirls around us. Too much. Can’t see.
“Stay low.” Noel turns in a slow circle.
“Vamp?” Again my voice is nothing. I tighten my grip on the gun, miraculously still in my hand.
“Going somewhere, Agent? Shii re lae?”
I suck in a ragged breath. “Marco.”
“Dix sut ma, arri ja’lar pisch?”
“Fuck…you…fanger.” I wave away Noel’s hand. Anger is enough to get me standing. “You clotheslined me, hardly fair.”
A dark shape moves through the cloudy swirls on the right.
“I wish I’d known you back at the restaurant. To think I had you and did nothing worse than serve you a meal intended for an infant.”
“To think.” Again I wave Noel aside.
He gives up trying to help and guards my back, gun aimed outward.
The wolves behind reassure me we’re unlikely to be hemmed in, but their racket also disguises Marco’s movements. In that moment, I’d give a lot for the senses of a vampire.
“You’re too late, Agents. We’ve planned this for many years, made precautions. This minor snarl will do nothing to untangle the tapestry of our victory.”
Eye-roll. “You done, Shakespeare?”
Marco’s face appears on the right.
I scoot sideways on my arse. Not graceful, but quick.
Gun up. Aim. Fire.
Nothing.
“Keep out of my way.” I can taste the chemicals in the air. The blend of silver compounds and frankincense are a mild irritant for humans, but Marco must be in real pain. If I could just get a clear shot. “You’re not the one I want.”
“Perhaps, but I won’t let you harm Vixen. She’s the oldest, wisest, and strongest of us all. A true queen.”
Noel nudges my knee with his toe and twirls his finger at shoulder height before pointing to the far wall.
I shake my head.
He does it again, teeth bared.
No. It won’t work. It can’t work, it—He’s already gone, sliding silently through the clouds of smoke.
I’m alone in the puffy whiteness.
With no distractions, I catch the rustle of fabric, the sibilant whisper of light feet on hard ground.
I twist towards it, eyes closed.
“Vixen isn’t a queen.” I raise my voice. It drops on the air like a fist, but I need to keep Marco’s attention on me. “I’ve seen more powerful vamps locked up at HQ.”
An angry hiss. Behind? When did he get back there?
“You dare—”
“Damn right.” I lick my lips. Swivel again. “If she’s so powerful, why does she need you to stall me? Why doesn’t she face me? Small, insignificant SPEAR with nothing but a gun and an attitude.”
A rush of cool air flits across my face.
I hurl myself backward flat to the floor, head cracking off the stone. Marco’s fingers graze my nose and forehead before the gunshots fill the air.
Shots?
Mine goes wide, thrown off by my awkward dive. The gun is gone before I get the chance for another, and my wrist sings with agony.
Marco scoots around me like a crab, a terrifying blur of speed.
More shots.
A grunt and soft mutterings in Italian.
“Enough flirting, you bloodsuc
king European bastard.” Noel steps into view. “Didn’t you know, Dee-Dee likes the girls?” He keeps firing, above my head now, walking forward with each thunderous shot.
Marco jerks and twists like a puppet as each bullet strikes his chest. Blood dribbles like tears but there’s none of the black gunk associated with a heart strike.
“Fucking aim, Noel!”
He laughs, a sound that dies when the gun clicks instead of cracks.
Marco totters in the centre of the corridor. Thin ribbons of crimson stream from his lips and chest, but his eyes shine silver. “When you’re quite finished, Human.” He darts forward. A blur. A streak. An impossible humanoid bullet dealing pain and death. He slams into Noel with both hands outstretched, leading the way like a spear.
A muted pop, like a microwaved potato, then a grunt.
Laughter.
Not Noel.
“Now, this?” Marco’s voice is low and snake-like. “This is flirting.”
Between him and the brickwork, Noel hangs from Marco’s hand against his stomach. No…not against.
The vampire swings his hands free in a spray of crimson droplets.
Noel slumps, one hand cupped to the fresh bloody holes in his protective vest.
“So sweet.” Marco sucks each bloodied finger with a near indecent moan. “Now, Agent, shall we?”
There’s a single knife in my vest, length of a Bowie, shape of a machete.
Not enough.
I draw the blade and settle my weight to the balls of my feet. “Tyr ackt.”
“With pleasure.” Marco chuckles, then vanishes.
Again, that cool air on my cheek. Then stars and a stunning impact to my jaw. More rushing breeze. A knee in the stomach. Chop to the back of the neck. Jab in the ribs. Strike to the chest.
On the floor again. Crawling. Blood in my mouth.
I spit it away. “Stop playing and fight me properly.” I make it to Noel’s side before Marco straddles my hips and tangles a hand in my hair. The other he slides around my throat, half pulling me off the ground.
“Right again. I’ve more important things to do.”
My comeback quip gets caught in my throat.
“I’ll pop your head like a wine cork. Would Madam prefer red or rosé?”
Pressure builds. My brain is going to explode any second.
Noel’s hand drags down my side, snagging on my pocket, which rips along with my belt loop.
He jerks the Kubotan from the torn fabric and swings the chain like a whip.
Marco jerks away from my body, hissing and spitting, swearing in Italian. His face is red beneath a long bloodied gash across his jaw and nose.
That small motion is too much for Noel. He collapses the rest of the way. “Told you…chains…useful.”
I snatch the Kubotan in one hand and the end of the chain with the other. Both feel strange, rough and textured as though scratched. Or engraved.
Hope swells within me.
When Marco lunges again, I swing the chain high and twist my hands to loop the links around his neck. As the cool steel makes contact with his skin, the vampire shrieks and drops to his knees. I follow, now pulling my hands apart, closing the loop around his throat.
Smoke pours off his skin, scented of charred bacon.
He shrieks and screams and scratches, but every movement helps my grip.
I sit on his back, pull for leverage, put every ounce of strength into pulling that chain.
Blood trickles through the links.
Still I pull.
The smell worsens.
Heat grows between us as the holy symbols etched into the metal burn skin.
The chain slackens, so I pull again, aware now that I’m searing through his flesh.
Screams. So many screams.
I close my eyes but I can’t block it out. The agonized chorus goes on, and the sight of that slender chain cutting through Marco’s throat scorches my memory.
The chain abruptly gives, a change followed by a thump and a dull rumble.
I know what I’ll see when I open my eyes. So I don’t.
“Dee-Dee? Come on, get up. You showed that blood sucker.”
Instead of Marco, I see Noel above me. His face is pale as chalk, eyes wide and haunted, but his old smile is there, rakish and lively. He waves for me to stand.
“You’re hurt.” Idiot. But I don’t know what else to say.
He shrugs, and though the gesture clearly hurts, the smile never fades. “This? A scratch.”
“You need Omega—”
“You need to get Vixen. I’ll be fine.”
I want to believe that. I have to believe that.
“Wait, Dee-Dee?” Noel fumbles the huge battleaxe off its harness. “You’ll want this.”
My own grin grows.
With a nod, I shift the axe to a two-handed grip and walk down the corridor. On the way, I take care to kick Marco’s severed head against the wall.
Chapter Thirty-three
It’s cold down here. Dim too.
Sparse lighting forms strips along the walls, guttering, winking.
Small droplets of something dark and glistening form a trail ahead.
A quick touch and a sniff give me the best news I’ve had all night. Maybe now I’ll stand a chance.
The axe droops in my grip. The head is heavier than I remember and my arms ache with the effort to keep it raised.
Or am I just tired?
The tunnel ends at five short steps leading up to a single door.
Deep breath.
“Danika?”
I freeze and wait for my heart to stop trying to burst through my ribs. “Go away.”
“Let me help you.”
Gritted teeth. The leather grip on the axe creaks. “Rayne—”
“I promised I’d protect you.” She stops beside me, close enough to touch.
“I don’t need your protection.”
“You have it anyway.”
I side step. “Pippa?”
“With the medics. I don’t know if they—”
“Vixen needs to die. I’m going out there to kill her—no trial, no capture, just dead, understand?”
Her hand closes over mine. “When the time comes, let me say goodbye? She’s all the family I have left.”
Rayne’s skin is so soft, even beneath the sticky coat of half-dried blood and the crust of drying black ooze.
My chest tightens, a new pain I can’t shake off. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“I won’t.” She releases my hand.
I open the door.
* * *
Rain.
The proper stuff, cold and wet.
Looking through to the alley outside, I realize we haven’t travelled as far as I thought.
At the end of the narrow passage between two buildings, a steady trickle of traffic roars past. Dim street lamps cast long shadows across the ground. My nose wrinkles at the combined scents of exhaust and litter.
“She’s here, I know it.” Rayne steps out beside me, careful to keep a good distance between us.
I steady myself and look again. Street to the left. High wall to the right, topped by barbed wire. Rough, pitted concrete showing patches of the old cobbles beneath. Windows high in the walls to the front and back. Large industrial bins against the wall directly ahead. A high-heeled shoe protruding from the darkness behind a stack of bulging black bags.
I heft the axe. “Come out where I can see you.”
Rustling. The bags tumble over.
Vixen eases to her feet, one hand pressed tight to her stomach, low down near the hip. Her blouse is stained with heavy, damp splotches. Red, not black.
“I must ask about your companions’ ammunition, Agent Karson.” She peers beneath her hand. “I’ve never seen anything like this wound before.”
“Probably our explosive rounds.” My own voice is a whisper now, rasping across a dry, parched throat. My fingertips tingle. “They won’t kill you if we don’t hit you right
, but they’re a bitch to heal.”
“I quite agree. But…” Vixen lowers her hand and straightens from her round-shouldered stoop. She smiles. “You’ve yet to encounter the likes of me. I assure you, bitch or not, I can heal anything you dare throw at me.” She puts a finger to her right eye and lifts out a contact lens. Another from the other eye. The light is wrong, but I already know what colour replaces that grey.
“Shall we begin?”
I lift the axe.
A shift on the air drags my attention left, but the blow comes from my right and sends me stumbling forward.
A cool breeze whips sheets of newspaper and food wrappers across the ground.
“Danika!” Rayne darts in and puts her back to mine.
“No.”
“Let me help.”
Vixen stops on the left again, arms crossed, hip popped. “You dare, Rayne?” Though calm, her tone has an edge of ice. “Betray me for this human?”
Rayne’s back stiffens against mine. “I—”
“Shut up.” Not sure who I’m talking to, but my outburst silences both vampires. Their attention on me is a prickling blanket across my skin.
“Human, this isn’t your concern. Do others of your kind interrupt your mother when chiding you?”
“I wish they would.”
Vixen sighs and returns her attention to Rayne. “My sweet, you are my favourite. I have so many plans for you, for your knowledge and skills.”
In the distance, a siren wails.
“I can’t. You can’t do this.” Rayne’s voice quivers. “It’s not right.”
Silver brightens in Vixen’s eyes, giving her the appearance of a feral cat in headlights. “Is it right that we’re hunted and murdered daily? That we’re killed for nothing more than the fact that our dietary needs differ from those of the wider population?”
“You kidnapped people.”
“I fed my children. As any responsible mother would.” Vixen glides closer. “You’re a child in a cruel, harsh world.” Her eyes glitter to match the pointed smile. “And their world has no space for you. In my world you have purpose. Family.”
I dart away from Rayne, axe angled low, and swing for an uppercut into Vixen’s face.
She spins to the side, a ballet-like pirouette, and slams her fist into my back, high between the shoulder blades.
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