Blood And Stone: A Novel in The Atalante Chronicles

by Nicholas W King

  My knees gave out on me. The vampire’s prone body fell in front of me, his tongue hanging from the gaping hole in his neck. I looked up and saw Marco on top of Bart, punching and scratching to get at the cop’s face. Bart was using his shotgun as a shield, trying to keep the worst of the attack off him.

  I ejected the spent magazine and put down my cane long enough to reload and chamber the first round. My aim was not as steady as I would have liked, but I fired anyway. My first shot went wide of my mark, as did the second. The third shot clipped Marco in his left shoulder. Bone snapped as the bullet exited the other side and the vampire’s arm went limp.

  “Bart,” I called. My voice was weak.

  Majester heard me. He used his left hand to pull his sidearm. Marco didn’t even notice the Glock until it was against his chest. Bart screamed and emptied the magazine into the monster, shredding Marco’s already damaged ribs and heart. It was finally enough to kill him.

  Extreme physical trauma works as well, I thought to myself, remembering my own words.

  Marco went limp and fell to the side. Bart rose with a triumphant grunt and spat on the vampire’s broken body.

  We were all on our feet but Angela looked as unsteady as I felt. “Christ on a cracker,” I said, feeling my ribs protesting over every movement. “We’re gonna be sore in the morning.”

  The warehouse behind the two police officers was less than half a football field away. Even though my body didn’t want to do it, I started walking. Both Angela and Bart took the time to reload as they followed. I holstered my Colt and reached into one of my pockets to find the phylactery. The crystal felt reassuringly warm to my touch. The desire to release that replenishing energy into my tired body was almost too much to bear, but I held off. I was going to need that power when Terry and I came to blows.

  “Take them by surprise, you said,” I heard Bart say behind me.

  “It was not a great plan, I admit,” I said.

  “What’s the new one?” asked Angela, jogging up to walk next to me.

  “You two save James,” I said. “Let me deal with Magdelena and Terry.”

  Majester scoffed. “You can barely stand.”

  “I’ve got something to deal with him,” I said, my jaw set.

  A husky female voice spoke then: “I’m intrigued to see what that is, wizard.”

  Magdelena exited the warehouse through the hole I’d created the day before. She moved with lithe steps, her bare feet barely touching the ground. She wore a crimson dress of soft cloth with long slits up the sides. Blood covered her forearms from gashes at the crooks of her elbows.

  “The Red King,” she hissed, “requests your presence, wizard.” Her dark eyes darted from me to the cops on either side of me. “You two are unnecessary.”

  She spoke a language I couldn’t make out, but the hairs on my arms rose. Bolts of blood shot out from her fingers. Two of the blood missiles sliced Bart’s arms above the elbows, causing him to drop his shotgun. The last missile embedded itself in his gut, just below the ribs.

  Magdelena’s aim was not as good with Angela, though. The sheriff’s deputy fell backward. The blood arrows flew over her head, missing by mere inches. She sat up and pressed the shotgun against her shoulder, firing off a round. A quick utterance from Magdelena ended that threat. A half-dome of liquid crimson formed in front of her, absorbing the pellets.

  I channeled a quick burst of energy and said, “Contego.”

  The earth underneath Magdelena rose up and surrounded her until she disappeared from sight.

  “Angela, get to Bart,” I said. “We need to get him back to the truck.”

  “Will that hold her?” she asked, not bothering to argue my plan.

  “Not for long.” I grabbed the crystal in my pocket and said, “Solvo.” The current of energy washed over me and I felt renewed. “Auferre.”

  A slab of stone formed under Bart and flowed up and out toward the truck, conveying him as gently as I could manage. Angela just looked at me for a few moments.

  “Stop gawking,” I said, keeping my focus on the spell. I could feel the ground beneath me weaken as I redirected the earth to extend the bed further back. When it reached the rear of my Jeep, I slid Bart into it. “The keys are in the ignition. Get him to a hospital, now.”

  “What about you?”

  “Go,” I said, pointing at the truck.

  Magdelena’s makeshift prison cracked open behind us. A shower of dirt hit me from behind. Angela didn’t protest further. She booked it for my Jeep with long strides.

  “Apice,” I said. The conveyance shifted as it drew back into the ground beneath and changed directions. As Magdelena emerged from the earth, the end of the flowing pillar of dirt compacted into a fist and caught the vampiress firmly in the chest. It launched her back, slamming her into the wall of the warehouse with a satisfying thud. Using my connection to the fist, I recalled the dirt, feeling it flow back beneath my feet.

  I walked up as Magdelena stood. She watched the truck drive away with a grin. “I’ll enjoy feasting on them later.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said, the runes in my cane flaring to life.

  “We will,” she said.

  “All right, you gruesome bitch,” I whispered. “Let’s play.”

  Chapter 22

  A lash of semi-solid blood flew at me from Magdalena’s open palm. She was aiming for my right shoulder, hoping to make me drop my cane.

  “Aegis,” I said, pushing a small amount of stored power into my ring. A barely-visible green shimmer appeared in front of me. The blood lash was repelled by the shield, bouncing off violently before winding around and attempting to attack from behind. I shifted focus on the shield, putting it behind me. The lash bounced again. Using my cane like a cudgel, I swiped the thread of blood connecting the lash to Magdalena. Once broken, the part attempting to surround me splashed against the ground.

  “Dirty pool,” I said. Raising my cane up, I pushed power through me into it and said, “Adigo.”

  The remains of the lash withdrew and the vampire focused on creating a hardened shell around her. The concussive blast was measured, a contained bolt rather than a large spherical shunt. Her blood shield shattered, sending small flecks of crystallized blood everywhere. The force of the spell pushed her back a few feet. Magdalena dug her heels into the dirt, grunting from the exertion.

  “Interesting magic,” I said as I pulled my pistol from its holster. “I’ll bet you’re the one who taught Terry his tricks.”

  “Do you always talk so much during a fight?” asked Magdalena. Three spears of sharpened blood flew from one hand at me. She drew down closer to the ground, tensing her muscles as if she meant to spring forward after me.

  Channeling my power, I reached out with my senses and found the magic holding the blood together. It might be crystalized, but it was still nothing but blood. It felt... wrong. A piece of the sorceress occupied each component of the magic, angry and malicious. My magic held nothing of me but my will. Magdalena’s was corrupted with her own essence.

  “Exhalare,” I said, pushing my power into the blood spears. The blood inside the projectiles evaporated in mid-flight. Before Magdalena had a chance to react or fire off another spell, I stomped my cane into the ground and said, “Manicae.”

  The vampire bitch hissed at me as she felt the earth beneath her rise up and wrap itself around her limbs. The malleable dirt swam up her arms and knees until it reached her elbows. She struggled to free herself, trying desperately to pull her arms free. But the spell-worked earth moved like quicksand, sliding back into place with each movement she attempted.

  “You’re not allowed to kill me yet, are you?” I asked, smiling as fought to escape.

  “Do you think you can banter me to death?” she asked, glaring.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I stepped to within two feet of her and raised my Colt, so the sights were squarely between her eyes. “I don’t have that restriction.”

  Bef
ore I could pull the trigger, Magdalena drew her lips together and spit in my direction. The bloody glob didn’t hit me. It hit the barrel of my gun.

  I watched the metal of my pistol liquefy and fall to the ground. In the time it took for me to drop my gun, Magdalena released enough toxic blood on her restraints to weaken them. She tore herself free and stalked toward me, death in her eyes.

  I swung my cane, hoping to connect with her face. She ducked under my swing and landed a punch in my solar plexus. Another punch to the center of my chest dropped me to the ground. Lights danced in my eyes. I was very close to passing out.

  “I’m not permitted to kill you, wizard,” she said. “But I can hurt you.” She smiled, causing her larger fangs to roll forward. The effect was demonic.

  I crawled away from her on my elbows. If only I hadn’t taken the time to gloat. I felt for the power given to me by the phylactery. It was there still, insistent.

  “Acid blood?” I said, wheezing. “Haven’t seen that before.”

  “Talk will not save you, Nicodemus. The Red King has promised you to me.” She slithered toward me, all graceful hips and soft steps. “I will enjoy breaking you.”

  She jumped forward to pounce on me, but I was waiting for that. Channeling power into my hand, I slammed it down on the ground to my left and said, “Dens.”

  Magdalena didn’t have time to adjust in mid-air. A solid spike of rock sprang up from beneath my hand, impaling her through the abdomen. I rolled away from the earthen tusk and managed to push onto one knee. It took me a moment to realize the warm, coppery taste in my mouth was my own blood. I swallowed it back down and immediately felt sick to my stomach.

  The vampire bitch screamed. She gripped the spike to prevent herself from sliding farther down. Screaming more loudly, she managed to push free and flop to the ground. The gaping hole in her abdomen gave me a lovely view of her ascending colon.

  I managed to get to my feet before she did. Wanting to press the advantage, I channeled more power and pointed my cane at her. Before I could unleash a spell, a tendril of hardened blood shot from her hand. Her aim was off. The blade-like blood sliced through my right shoulder. I cried out and released the magic I had prepared.

  The energy from the phylactery was still there, but it wasn’t humming anymore. There were fits and starts. I could feel the fatigue of the past two days settle into my bones.

  Magdalena must have sensed my weakness. She stood up, black blood oozing from the corners of her mouth. Seven more tendrils formed in the gap in her abdomen. They rolled out behind her and joined the one she’d already created to form around her body, like the legs of a demonic spider.

  Channeling what I could manage and pushing it into my ring, I said, “Aegis.” A full body shield formed around me just as the eight tendrils surged toward me in unison. They attacked from all sides, penetrating just far enough to be slowed by the shield. Each one withdrew and came at me from another angle.

  My shielding spell began to buckle under the constant barrage. Magdalena wanted it this way, keeping her distance and using the safety of the tendrils to protect herself. She wanted me weakened and unable to defend myself when she came to kill me later.

  And of course, the Red King wanted an audience. Terry wanted me to watch his nephew die so he could prove that he was more powerful than me. He resented James. He resented the fact that James had the power he desired for himself. His hatred, his envy... it was what fueled him.

  I ran some options through my head. the only ones left to me were both ridiculous and dangerous.

  When you’re desperate enough, though, you’ll give the ridiculous and dangerous a try.

  I channeled what remained of the phylactery’s power, combining those remnants with the power in the earth beneath me. My body felt the rush of power, more than I had ever tried to channel in a single spell. I felt a smoldering pain in my chest, just a pinprick of heat that I knew would grow larger and more destructive as the spell wore on. I had warned James about what happens to wizards who try to push too much power through their bodies.

  The tendrils kept up their assault, more quickly now. A few would attack before withdrawing. Then the others would hit. It was staccato, almost random, without a discernable pattern. Three would hit, then retreat. Five would attack, then retreat. I felt the heat inside me grow until it felt like it would burn my lungs and heart. My focus was split between the ground beneath Magdalena’s feet and her attacks.

  I fell to my knees. I told myself it was because I wanted to catch Magdalena by surprise with my spell. Mostly it was because I could hardly stand. The blood-sucking bitch smiled at me.

  I waited for the majority of the tendrils to pull back before releasing my shield. I slammed the knot end of my cane into the ground in front of me and released the pent-up power I’d drawn, saying, “Terra Consumere.”

  Three of the tendrils managed to strike me as I released the shield. One of them had a solid bulb of crystallized blood at the end. I felt a sickening crunch in my left arm, right above the elbow. That half of my arm went numb a moment later. The other two tendrils had serrated edges. One of them sliced me on the right side of my abdomen, just below the ribcage. I felt warm blood trickle out onto my coat and pants leg.

  Magdalena had been true to her word. The wound was deep enough to hurt, but not deep enough to be lethal. The last tendril sliced through my trench coat and across my right inner thigh. It was a close wound in more ways than one. The blade managed to miss both my sack and my femoral artery but only by the barest of margins.

  Propping myself up with my cane, forming a human tripod on my knees, I screamed in pain. I felt the rumble begin under our feet. Looking on with grim satisfaction, I watched as Magdalena’s smirk disappeared. She began to lose her footing. Even the warehouse behind us shook a bit.

  Creating a self-filling sinkhole is not a precise attack.

  The rumbling grew in intensity as Magdalena fell to the ground. Distracted, she stopped maintaining the tendrils. Blood spattered the ground around us as the bloody weapons lost cohesion. My knees soaked up the sticky, viscous mud.

  I watched as the earth beneath Magdalena rolled away like the sea before a tsunami. She fell into the open void. And like a thunderous wave, the earth I’d shifted from beneath her slammed back down and filled the chasm I’d created.

  I stayed in that kneeling position for a solid minute, trying to catch my breath. The burning sensation I’d felt when channeling slowly lessened. Grunting through the pain, I rose to my feet, my cane giving me a steady enough post to pull my weight up. Almost every part of me wanted nothing more than to rest. Hopping on my injured leg, in more pain than I knew what to do with, I wondered how much easier my life might be if I didn’t actually give a damn.

  My eyes rolled up to the back end of the warehouse. Careful to avoid any potential loose earth caused by my last spell, I made my way slowly to the building. I wanted to rest. I wanted to sit. I wanted to pass out. But I kept walking, one step at a time.

  The wounds in my leg and side had stopped bleeding but the pain was a constant drumbeat. I could have dealt with the pain, if that were all I faced. But I had bigger problems.

  Magdalena had softened me up beautifully for Terry. All of the power from the phylactery was gone. I knew that if I tried to channel another heavy spell, like my shield, I would risk an overload and flatten everything within a half-mile. I realized, too, that even my concussive spell would be little better than hitting Terry with a pillow at this point. The bitch had melted my gun, so even that option was denied me.

  There wasn’t any backup, either. If I waited for Blackwell to come back with the cops, I’d be explaining to Patricia why I let her son die. If Terry didn’t barbecue me just for kicks, that was.

  I worked through the angles in my head. I could leave. I could just leave James to his fate, tell his mother that I’d done my best.

  That thought lasted about as long as it took me to take another step.

 
No, I wasn’t leaving. If I had to strangle the life out of Terry with my bare hands while on fire, so be it. I would make sure I took that son of a bitch with me into Hell.

  At least, that was the plan, until I felt something solid and wet grab onto the ankle of my good leg.

  I looked down to see a filthy, scaled hand gripping my leg like a vice. I shouted something unintelligible as my foot was pulled out from under me. Crashing onto the ground on my broken arm, I lost all breath. Magdalena rose up and rolled me onto my back.

  Her dress was in tatters. What was left clung to her skin and was more mud than cloth now. Several cuts and abrasions had formed along her chest and arms. What parts of her skin I could see were covered in golden brown scales, like a copperhead snake.

  She crawled over me like a lover would, straddling my thighs between her own. I tried to swing my cane but she batted it away with ease. I fought the urge to vomit from the stench wafting off of her. Think rotten eggs, wet soil, and snakeskin.

  When she was face to face with me, I snapped my head forward and caught the bridge of her nose with my forehead. There was a satisfying crunch, followed by a much less satisfying crunch as her fist connected with my jaw.

  Through bleary eyes I could see her nose was deformed. It was now two pronounced slits in the center of her face. Scales of mottled brown had formed around her eyes, down her cheeks, and all the way to the base of her neck. Her long fangs were completely extended and her lower jaw had dislocated, opening wider than any human mouth could.

  Without uttering a word, she sank her long fangs into the flesh of my shoulder, right into the hollow space in my clavicle. I screamed until I was hoarse. I tried bashing her in the head with my cane but I was as weak as a child. My body became heavy as the paralytic venom took hold.

  Magdalena smiled. It was as inhuman an expression as you can imagine. If I could have shivered, I would have. I could see her true eyes now. They had not survived the transformation born from her hunger. Where the black eyes with red-ringed irises had been, she now had amber-brown eyes with slits. The transformation into a snake-like creature was born from her hunger. Her eye slits bored a hole into my head. All I could see in them was thirst for my blood.