“Delilah, take a group over the hill and hit them on the flank. Everyone else, form up a skirmish line. Keep an eye out for guns,” Luke said loud enough that the supernatural hearing of his group would pick it up.
Behind him, Delilah gathered her team. “Luke, gun time?”
He made a snap decision. “Yeah. We need to overwhelm them, kill as many as possible, and flee. You all know the standard escape and evade plans. If they can muster a tail, shake them before you get close to the cottage.”
He yanked the belt tail of the sword belt holding his enchanted short sword and unbuckled it, letting it drop to the ground. Buckling Roxi’s around his waist, he picked up the other and quickly adjusted it and slung it around his back so he could draw it over his shoulder on the left side. It was shorter than Roxi’s and would work better there as a secondary weapon. With his hand free, he grabbed his shotgun and pumped a shell into the chamber.
“Let’s go. Stick together, don’t get bunched up. Call if you need help.” Luke jogged forward, his wolves fanning out to either side. “Fire as soon as we’re in reasonable range.”
The sound of his BMW’s wheels screeching as Charlie flew down the lane brought a smile to his face. Roxi would survive for now. With that off his mind, his attention fixed firmly on the next round of the battle. Raising his shotgun and nestling it into his shoulder, he flicked the safety off and drew an aim.
His shot marked the opening of hostilities for the second half of the battle as a vampire dusted out, covering its companions in its desiccated remains. Their disgusted coughs were soon ended as they too took shots, ending their immortality. Down the line, his friends opened fire, their shotguns belching fire and death into the night, dealing mayhem and terror to whoever was on the receiving end.
Vampires died. Some were wounded, screaming in agony as wood and silver filled their undead flesh. An enemy werewolf took a full blast to the face and went down gurgling in a mess of blood. Handguns answered, sending up yelps from Luke’s friends. He held back, shoving shells into the magazine, then ran forward, looking for the glint of guns among the vamps and wolves they were fighting. He didn’t double check, if he caught the reflection of light on metal, he fired at the one carrying it. Once he emptied his second full magazine, he fell back and reloaded, but returned the gun to around his back. It was the time for sword work.
He yanked Roxi’s Parthian sword from its scabbard and reached over his shoulder for the short sword. The Parthian sword wasn’t his gladius, but it felt good to have a proper ancient sword in his hands. He also liked that it was Roxi’s and once again, he used it to defend her and his friends from the rising dark entity.
Before stepping back into the front line, he checked the dark cloud holding station above the castle ruins. As long as it stayed up there, it could be as spooky as it wanted. He twirled Roxi’s sword once then jogged toward Pablo’s fight with an enemy wolf in bipedal form. Luke came in on Pablo’s left and ran behind his opponent, dragging the Parthian sword through both of the wolf’s hamstrings. Before it could collapse to the ground, Pablo snatched its head and wrenched, breaking its neck. Pablo left it in a heap on the ground and ran over to help one of his packmates.
Luke engaged a vamp drawing a katana. His muscles already burning from the first fight and carrying Roxi, he batted aside a hastily delivered slash before plunging the short sword into its heart, ending it. Before the goop of its corpse splattered onto the ground, Luke had moved on to another fanger. As that one reached into his coat, Luke caught the shiny metallic glint of a chrome plated gun. When the vamp’s hand cleared its coat, Luke spun and brought Roxi’s sword down through its wrist, removing the hand and the gun with it. He followed up and took its head. Kicking it aside, he looked around, finding himself in a pocket of calm so he plunged Roxi’s sword into the headless cadaver’s heart, sending it trickling over the pavement.
Flicking his eyes up to the shadow, Luke stepped back. The oppressive feeling steadied, pulsing and thrumming as it increased in intensity. He could feel the pressure shifting in his head as it throbbed in time with the expansion and contraction of the shadowy cloud. Then in the blink, it shot forward and disappeared into the body of a vampire standing near the back of the enemy lines.
The possessed vamp expanded in size to about seven and a half feet tall, picking up the corresponding girth as well. Out of its empty right hand, a beam of inky black shot out to form a dark blade that would have been a two-handed sword for a human but looked like a long sword in its hands.
“Clear the way!” Luke yelled. “Don’t engage it.”
Luke’s friends did their best to back up and disengage, helping each other finish up fights as they moved to put Luke between themselves and the now oversized vampire horror stalking toward them with a slice of darkness in his hand that not only emanated menace but absorbed light.
Luke swallowed and licked his lips. With a deep breath that he held, he jogged forward, exhaling, picking up speed. As he got closer, the possessed vampire merely strolled along as if he were enjoying a spring day in the park. Making straight for it, Luke darted aside at the last moment thrusting toward the creature’s unarmed left side. Faster than Luke could comprehend, the dark sword came around, knocking his thrust aside as the thing’s left hand rose. The hand opened up as it thrust its palm forward, sending an invisible wall toward Luke.
Air whooshed out of Luke’s lungs as he hit the ground fifteen feet back from the creature. He wheezed as he tried to get regain control of his body. Scrambling to his feet, his body trembled from the impact as he labored to suck air into his lungs.
“Fire!” Delilah shouted.
From both sides, Delilah’s squad finally emerged after clearing whatever had been in their way, their shotguns belching fire and silver into the ominous figure. The shots rocked its body as it shrieked into the night. Luke cringed as the sound set off his tinnitus, already exacerbated by so much shotgun fire. He hoped to find a vampire corpse to drain before they left, but first, he had to survive whatever the hell this thing was.
Hoping his friends’ aims were true, he started his tired legs forward, picking up momentum. The closer he got, the fewer people fired their shotguns, fearing to hit their leader. Delilah and her squad, having a better angle, kept up their shooting until he was nearly on top of the abomination. Before the creature could recover, Luke dragged Roxi’s sword across its thigh, snaking a deep gash across its quad muscles. Instead of blood pouring out, an inky unctuous smoke leaked out. When the breeze caught it, it turned into flakes of acrid black ash carried away by the wind, leaving only its unwholesome stench.
Luke rolled away just in time to avoid its riposte. The silver seemed to have taken a bit of the starch from its collar, slowing it down—although its supernatural speed was still blinding. Laying about with a sloppy slash toward Luke’s chest, he swatted it aside with Roxi’s sword and tried to get inside its guard with another slash toward its legs. Luke sliced the air as the leg shifted out of his way.
Following through on the slash, he spun and caught the vile blade with Roxi’s sword. The abomination had swatted him aside too quickly before, but now that his blade pushed against the dark sword, it didn’t feel right. Where it should have had the resistance of metal on metal, it felt somehow simultaneously harder, squishier, and…grasping. It was as if through the sword, the abomination was trying to draw something from Luke’s essence. When it couldn’t find what it was looking for, the abomination pushed harder, sending waves of visceral terror down the blade.
As terror tried to take root, he dug inside. If he couldn’t stop the entity, his friends wouldn’t stand a chance. Planting his feet, he brought up the short sword, crossing it under Roxi’s sword so the light-absorbing blade was caught in the valley Luke’s swords formed. Malice poured off the creature’s blade. The Parthian sword held steady, pushing back both on the physical aspect of the vile blade as well as the metaphysical. The short sword, however, felt as if it were being repulsed by the blade and cringed in Luke’s hand, if an inanimate object could do something like that.
He feared to look at the short sword, afraid its magic might diminish and shatter, leaving him vulnerable. Focusing, he tried to counter the dark entity’s will with his own. He drew on nineteen hundred years of survival and strength of will. He was Lucius Silvanius Ferrata. His will was iron. The dark blade seemed to shrink away. Where the vampire’s face had been, the amorphous patch of the entity shifted in what Luke could only call consternation. Pushing forward, he took a step and forced the abomination to take a half step backward.
Out of the corner of his eye, Delilah and Simone snuck up behind the creature, their shotguns raised. When they stopped a couple feet from it, they unloaded their weapons into the abomination’s back. Its body rocked under the assault of the two twelve-gauge shotguns loaded with silver and wood. The pressure of the vile blade lessened. Taking advantage of his friends’ intervention, he freed Roxi’s blade and used the short sword to turn the brutal sword aside while spinning to deliver a backhanded swing at the creature’s neck.
It being so tall, the attack required an awkward angle, but Roxi’s sword cut true, bisecting most of the neck. The head flopped backward, tethered with only a thin strip of skin and sinew. Before Luke could follow up and take out the heart, smoke and flame belched from the stump of the severed neck into the sky. The intensity shoved Luke backward, dropping him on his ass.
Coughing, Luke struggled to his feet and backed away, trying to cover his face. From the ground up, the creature turned into ash and flames. The darkness flowed upward, as if a vacuum pulled everything up from the creature’s central core to billow out its neck. Luke’s eyes burned as he blinked them hard, trying to clear them. When only the shoulders remained, they too were sucked up and blasted out of the neck until the cloud reformed above where the body had been.
“I SEE YOU.” The voice sounded through his brain and scratched against his soul, shaking him and forcing him to his knees.
One last time, the evil cloud contracted then exploded outward, sending Luke sprawling onto his back and stripping Selene’s supernatural disguise from him. He writhed on the ground as he tried to regain control of his brain and body.
“Luke? Are you OK?” The voices sounded as if they were coming through water.
When he got his eyes working, he saw Simon, Delilah, and Sam standing above him.
“Ah…” Trying to speak, he gagged, then rolled over and vomited.
When his stomach hit E on its gauge, he let his friends heave him to his feet as two people took his arms and slid under each side of him. They helped him stagger back across the parking lot toward their line of cars. He dry-heaved but didn’t produce anything beyond a burning sensation in the back of his throat. All the stimulus into his eyes, ears, and nose were scrambled, jumbled, and completely unintelligible. Every time he tried to speak, only grunts or slurred syllables fell from his lips.
He had no idea whose backseat they shoved him into, but someone buckled him in. The car vibrated to life. As they passed through the village, the lights flashed across his vision in streaks. They had to be traveling fast—he hit the door and window as they whipped around a corner, tires screeching.
With no idea how long they’d been traveling or if they were following the planned evasion routes, he sat in his seat like a lump or a piece of baggage. After a while, he could distinguish the voices in the car. Then, a few minutes later, their words.
“Wh…where?” Luke gasped out.
“Shh, quiet. Luke’s trying to speak.” That was Sam.
“Where?” he repeated.
“About thirty minutes from the cottage,” Sam replied. “Do you think you can get some water down?”
He tried to lick his lips, but failing that, he tried to generate some moisture in his mouth but came up dry. He nodded. Sam grabbed a water bottle, took off the top, and held it to his lips, tipping it up enough to spill a little water into his mouth. Most of it fell out over his lip and out the corners, but enough went in his mouth. It felt like the first rain after a long drought.
“More.”
Sam tipped more in. He greedily gulped it down, not caring how much fell over his chin and chest as long as some ran over his parched tongue. When Sam pulled the bottle away, he tried to chase it with his lips.
“Give it a couple minutes to settle, Luke. OK?”
“OK,” he replied. It sounded clearer than anything he’d said since he’d been carried away.
The car remained quiet until Sam broke the silence after a few minutes. “How are you doing?”
The water had gone a long way toward reviving him, though he still felt like pudding in body and brain. “I’ll live. Can I have more water?”
Sam smiled and patted his knee. “Sure. Can you hold the bottle yourself or do you want me to hold it for you?”
Trying to lift his hand, he shook his head. “Not yet. Please, Sam?”
Luke took down the rest of the bottle with Sam’s aid. Even after most of a bottle of water, the acrid taste of the ash and smoke still lingered in his mouth. Flexing his hand, he tapped his thumbs over his fingers, testing his dexterity. He sucked in a slow breath.
“I think my body is starting to work again.” He gave a shiver, blinking the moisture from his eyes.
“What the hell was that?” Sam asked, slumping back into her seat.
“That was our friend from Wyoming,” Luke said.
“I don’t like it.”
“Me either. Did we take any casualties?”
“I don’t know. There are some injuries, we got everyone out. We’ll have to sort out what happened when we get back to base.”
Luke sighed in relief. It wasn’t definitive, but it could have been far worse. Staring out the window, he dozed off, his head falling against the glass.
* * *
Sam gently shook his shoulder. “Luke? We’re here. Are you going to need help?”
He shook himself awake. “Let’s see.”
He opened the door and stepped out, holding onto the door. His legs wobbled but held. Once he felt sure he’d not tumble to the ground, he took a tentative step toward the front door. Delilah slid under his shoulder without asking and helped him up the few steps into the house.
“Hold on, Dee. Can you point me toward the moon?” Luke asked.
Nodding, she walked him a couple steps into the full moonlight.
“My Mistress, thank you for protecting Roxi. I can never repay you for all you gave to hold our enemies in check.”
“You will never have to, Lucius. I shall recover, now go take care of yourself and Roxi.”
He felt some of Selene’s strength trickle into his body, bolstering him. Bowing his head to the moon, he turned to Delilah. “Can you take me to the clinic, please?”
“Sure.” Delilah steered him down the hall toward the room they’d converted into a clinic.
Rhonda and Patrice stood outside the room, one on each side of the door.
“You two look awfully officious,” Luke commented.
“Your little friend hasn’t been a very gracious guest,” Rhonda said.
Patrice snorted. “She bit the shit out of poor Ahmed. Wouldn’t let that French doctor friend of yours even look at her, and Maggie is taking care of a couple of wounded werewolves. The only thing we could think of was wait until you got back.”
Poor Roxi. It wasn’t her fault; the compulsion wasn’t a gentle burden. She’d calmed for him along the castle wall. Hopefully, he’d be able to help her settle in.
“Could one of you go fetch Maggie please? I’ll see if I can get Roxi settled down a bit.”
Patrice nodded and headed down the hall. Rhonda opened the door. A metal tray lay across the floor, its instruments spilled about. The bed was knocked away from its normal position. Against the wall in the corner by a small cabinet, Roxi huddled in a disheveled heap.
“You going to be OK, Luke? I have to head back outside and help.” Delilah gave him a squeeze.
Luke put his hand against the wall and put all his weight on his own feet. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks, Dee.”
He shuffled into the room, not wanting to be too bold with his movements even with the bit of added strength from Selene. “Roxi? It’s me, Luke.”
She perked her head up, her eyes unfocused. After blinking them a few times, she squinted, tilting her head to the side.
“You got your face back,” she whispered. “I like this one better. Handsome.”
Keeping his hands on things to help him stay upright, he worked his way over, slumping onto the ground next to her. She tipped over toward him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“How are you doing?” Luke asked.
“I’m dying, Luke. I hurt all over. Inside and out.” Her voice sounded raspy and weak. “You came for me.”
In that one word—dying—the anger he’d nursed since she’d left disappeared. He reached across his body and ran his hand over her cheek. “I said I’d do anything for you. I meant it.”
“I’m sorry, Luke.” Her body shook next to his, tears falling onto his hand.
Lifting his arm, he wrapped it around her shoulder and pulled her into him. With a desperate strength, she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. What little strength she had poured out in her tears. Holding her tight, he kissed her messy hair.
“You’re here now. We’ll figure this out. I’m not losing you now, not after we moved across two thousand years to find each other. If I have to, I’ll go to all the hells and heavens ever conceived by humans to help you. I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way be they person, vampire, or god.” Luke stroked her hair, absentmindedly pulling debris from it whenever his hand touched something.
“I know. I’m sorry I left.” As she spoke, her voice grew quieter and weaker.
She slumped into Luke, her muscles going slack. Luke held his breath making sure he could hear her breathing. It was shallow, but steady. He relaxed, exhaling.
“Luke?” Sam poked her head in the door.
“I’m down here,” he replied, raising his hand to catch her attention.
“We’ve got some more wounded coming in and Maggie and Alexandre need this room. Can we move Roxi? Is she OK to move?”
Looking down at Roxi, he wasn’t sure how well she was in the grand scheme, but she was alive. “She’s probably well enough to move. Is Ahmed OK?”
“Yeah, Alexandre cleaned the wound and stitched him up. He’ll heal up quick. Do you need help with her? Do you need help?”
“I think I’ll have to move her so she doesn’t hurt anyone or herself. Control is hard, and despite her condition, she still has strength and speed when she feels endangered. I’ll take her up to my suite.” Luke set Roxi against the cabinet.
Maggie stepped into the door frame. “Is she ready for an exam?”
“I think so, but let’s get everyone else taken care of. I’m going to take her up to my room and get her cleaned up,” Luke replied.
“I’d like to get an IV into her as soon as possible. She’s dehydrated.” Maggie looked concerned.
“Patrice?” Luke called.
“Yeah?” Patrice stepped into view.
“You’ve been working with Maggie as a medic. Do you feel comfortable placing an IV?” Luke stared down at Roxi, her armor gently clicking as her chest rose and fell.
Patrice nodded. “I can do that.”
“Give me forty-five minutes, then bring up an IV. Sam, when you find a couple healthy folks, have them come up to my room. I need to move a cot or something into my room. I don’t want to disturb her rest, but it’s probably best if I’m on hand if she wakes or the compulsion takes her.”
“OK, Luke. I’ll send someone along when Patrice comes up.” Sam smiled softly at him, her eyes filled with compassion.
“Actually, can you help me up with her? I’m going to need some help getting her out of her armor. I can handle her from there.” Squatting down, Luke scooped up Roxi, grunting as he stood. The strength Selene had lent him was enough, but only barely.
Everyone made way for him as he headed toward the kitchen and then up through the service staff elevator to the floor with his suite. Sam opened the door for him as he stepped through, sweat streaming down his face—still not recovered enough to be moving another human, even one as light as Roxi was now.
“Sam, could you turn the bath on? And when you’re done with that, there’s a heavy stool in the closet if you can pull it out,” Luke grunted out. When Sam disappeared, he kissed Roxi’s forehead. “Roxi, can you wake up a little? I need to get you undressed.”
She bobbed her head lightly, forcing her eyes open to slits. “So tired.”
“I know, Roxi. You’ll get to sleep soon. We’re going to set you a stool. I’ll hold you and Sam is going to remove your armor, OK?” Luke’s arms and back burned from holding her for too long in his weakened condition.
When Sam reemerged from the closet, he propped Roxi on the stool, then kept her upright as Sam unbuttoned the heavy coat over her armor. Sam tossed it away, then unlaced Roxi’s scale mail and laid it flat on the coat.
“The poor dear is soaked through.” Working as quick as she could, Sam helped Luke strip her the rest of the way. “Oh my, she’s nothing but skin and bones. Even worse than when we pulled you both out of that vampire hell hole.”
Roxi’s skin was sallow and stretched over her bones with not enough muscle and fat to separate them. The scars she’d collected fighting for the vampires’ amusement in their arena looked angry and red—too fresh for scars months old—as if they’d not only stopped healing but started reverting. Luke’s heart hurt looking at her, but at the same time, the anger he’d kept banked since his captivity and then Roxi’s disappearance roared to life, an inferno in his chest. But this time, the anger wasn’t for the vampires or Roxi, as it had been briefly, but for the perfidious god who’d forced this compulsion on Luke and Roxi without telling them or asking consent. He’d wring justice from the god or bring justice to his body if he didn’t fix this.
Only the gentle touch of Sam grabbing his hand and giving it a friendly squeeze drew him back from rushing out of the room and to his Mithraeum in that instant. “Luke, would you like some help to get her in the tub?”
He nodded, forcing his anger down for the moment. “Please.”
Together they cradled her body between them, linking arms under her legs and around her back so they could lower her into the tub. Once the water enveloped Roxi from the waist down, she seemed to relax.
Sam walked around the tub and kissed Luke on the cheek. “Call if you need anything. I’ll send Patrice along in a bit with an IV.”
As soon as Sam stepped out of the bathroom, Luke grabbed a soft washcloth and soaped it up, carefully cleaning Roxi’s body while singing the lullaby his mother had sung to him—the song he’d sung for her when they were alone and trapped in the arena. When he finished, she stirred.
“Sing another,” she demanded, her voice barely audible.
Luke wracked his brain and settled on something a little more modern, “Home” by Phillip Phillips. Grabbing the shower attachment, he rinsed Roxi’s hair then shampooed it. He thought about conditioning, but he needed to get her dried and in bed so Patrice could place the IV. With the tub draining, he rinsed her off and wrapped her hair in a towel, then lifted her out of the tub. It was a miracle he didn’t drop her. After he dried her off, he tucked her into bed then took a quick shower to wash off the sweat of the night, along with the grime of the abomination’s ash.
He’d just pulled on pajama bottoms when Patrice knocked. Toweling his hair off, he let her in. Behind her, a couple of North Portland’s werewolves carried in a narrow bed.
“Put it at the foot of my bed, please,” Luke instructed, pulling a robe on over his bare chest.
As soon as they placed the bed, they left.
“Luke, can you hold her still? She’s trying to wiggle away.” Patrice tried to hold Roxi’s arm in place.
Sliding onto the other side of the bed, Luke grabbed Roxi’s other hand. “I’m here, Roxi. Let Patrice help you. You’re dehydrated. You need an IV.”
At the soothing tone of his voice, she settled down, letting Patrice swab her arm then place the line. After Patrice taped the line to Roxi’s arm, she set up the IV stand at the head of the bed.
“Anything else you need, Luke?” Patrice asked.
Shaking his head, he yawned. “No; thank you for everything, Patrice. When either Maggie or Alexandre are done, can you send him up to examine her?”
She chuckled. “Not sure he’ll be able to help much. I’m sure he’s a fine medical professional for normal humans, but he’s having a little trouble managing the existence of werewolves.”
“If there are still wolves that still need attention, it’s probably best if Maggie takes care of them. The caretaker and his family are used to my peculiarities, not wolves, so hopefully that’ll work since Roxi and I are virtually the same, at least in this aspect.”
Patrice nodded. “I’ll send up who is free. Any orders for the teams?”
“No. Sam and Delilah can handle anything. I’m too tired to be of any use after that little adventure.” He smiled kindly at Patrice.
“I’m glad we got her back for you. Sleep well, Luke.”
“Me too. Goodnight, Patrice.”
She shut the door behind her.
“Luke?” Roxi whispered.
“Yes?” He moved a strand of black hair from her forehead.
Her eyes flickered open, pleading with him. “Hold me, please.”
Sliding under the blankets, he snuggled up next to her, holding her hand and laying with his body pressed against her side.
“Your bed smells like you. It’s nice…” She trailed off, her eyes closing as she fell asleep.
Luke had done it. They’d found Roxi and brought her back. It was only the first step, but she lay there next to him, her skin against his. Luke hummed a tune for her while he tried to keep himself awake until the doctor came. But he failed, slipping into the realm of slumber.