ChapteR

8

 

 

You know in B-rated zombie apocalypse films where a wave of zombies shuffles forward in a slow and twitchy forward momentum that any human, even an old lady, can easily outrun?

Well, this wasn’t it.

Howls split the night, making my skin prickle in goose bumps. The outpour of faeries moved with supernatural, vampire-like speed and stealth along with a cat-like grace I’d never seen before. And there were way too many to count.

Demon balls. Why was this always happening to me?

“Looks like the Tooth Fairy’s been busy,” growled Tyrius. “And here I thought bunnies were prolific.”

“Take these off!” Jeeves was in front of my face before I had the chance to lower myself in a fighting crouch. A white haze appeared from the corner of my eye. Tyrius was starting to Hulk-out into his alter ego—an enormous black panther. And at that moment, I wished I had just a bit of that demon magic—enough to transform into something as bad ass as a three-hundred-pound black panther.

“Rowyn! What are you doing? They’re coming!” shouted Tyrius, his eyes glowing with demon magic.

Before I could answer, Jeeves shoved the cuffs in my face again. “Do you want Jax to die? Eaten to death by these abominations! Take them off!”

Frantic, I swore loudly. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

I only had seconds before the first wave of fae hit us. Heart pounding, I made up my mind, reached inside my jacket pocket and pulled out a small iron key. “Here.” I tossed Jeeves the key, saw him catch it, and ducked, just as a clawed hand grazed the top of my head.

Before the faeries’ first strike finished, I had spun around and slashed my blade across the throat of the nearest fae. I twirled, spinning like a top, slashing and dicing the soft bellies of two more fae. I shoved one of the dead fae off of me as I plunged my death blade deep into the gut of a third.

The night erupted in a warm mist of blood. I heard my own grunts as I moved, slashing and cutting. Adrenaline spiked through me. Fae fell, as disembodied heads tumbled across the ground. The lust for their deaths raged through me. Jeeves was right. These were abominations.

I threw my gaze around the street. The fae, that I guessed had been human only hours ago and still wore their clean human clothes, were spilling into the streets from the shadows in a messy, fluid outpour of crazy that was difficult to follow. It was hard to tell whether there were hundreds or maybe even thousands.

But their eyes had me doing a double take. I glanced down at the dead fae at my feet. The male faerie’s eyes were dark, almost black, just like some of the fae I’d seen. But there was a thin white rim along the edges of his pupils—a glowing white ring.

And then Isobel’s voice rose above the crowd and I stiffened. “Feed, my children!” came her voice, echoing around us as though she’d used a megaphone. “Take what is yours. Take it all! Feed!”

Using the few seconds I had before my next onslaught of human-eating fae, I took a moment to search for her royal faerieness. I didn’t care what Jeeves had said. I was pretty sure a decapitated fae queen couldn’t grow back a head.

Where had the voice come from? It had sounded as though it came at us from all sides. Isobel had to be here somewhere. Someone was turning these humans into fae. So where was she? And where the hell was Danto?

I could hear the thumps of flesh on flesh and cries in the background. Tyrius’s loud roar rose over the sounds of the fight. A female fae with long red hair shot at me, sporadic and hissing like a wild cat. Without pause I sliced her neck. Blood splattered out of the fae, black as oil, and she went down in convulsions. As she fell, I climbed over her, catching a glimpse of Tyrius the black panther. He was glorious. The fae, although seemingly more vicious and perhaps even more powerful than your average fae, were still no match for the giant cat. He snatched one up with his jaw, clamping easily around the faerie’s neck. I didn’t hear the snap of bone or the tearing of flesh as the head plopped to Tyrius’s feet. He licked his lips as his glowing yellow eyes met mine. Good boy, Tyrius.

There was no sign of Jax—or rather Jeeves. No surprise there. The bastard had abandoned us.

My breath came out in a growl when I spotted Isobel, queen of the faeries of the Dark Court. She wore the same white, bride-like gown that pooled to the ground and around her feet. She was tall and thin, with the cold unnatural beauty of the fae. Woven through her single middle part of raven hair that spilled down past her waist was a crown of human teeth.

And clasped in her hands was a glowing white stone. The White Grace.

Isobel’s black eyes fixed on me with a fervent gleam. Her snow-white skin looked almost silver in the moonlight. She pulled her sharp features into a wicked, triumphant smile. I hated that smile.

She was surrounded by a collection of lanky fae in leather gear, bows in their hands—her Dark Arrows. I clenched my jaw as I spotted Daegal next to her, the commander of the Dark Arrows. The blond faerie’s hair and fair skin were a stark contrast to his long, black coat.

Daegal and I had unfinished business. He’d snatched Ugul from under me and taken him to Isobel to have his chest ripped open in front of an audience. I didn’t care how many weapons he carried with him. I could take him. I was going to kill that pale bastard.

My attention was so focused on Daegal that I barely jumped out of the way in time as another solid wall of fae hit the streets, throwing themselves at me in a split second’s crash. The newly changed fae were everywhere, rushing towards us, fae mouths gulping and hissing in a ghastly chorus of a war cry.

I couldn’t stop a shiver that ran down my spine as I looked out to the mass of faeries—half-breeds that had recently been human.

Agony exploded in my back and I pitched forward. Bringing my knees towards my chest, I rolled on the ground and leapt to my feet. I spun, intuition telling me there was another one coming.

I cried out in pain as a blur of black eyes and teeth tore through my leather jacket and into the soft flesh of my forearm.

I spit the hair out of my mouth. “That hurt, you bitch,” I said, now that I could see the faerie was female, her teeth clamped around my arm. “Oh, how sweet. A love bite—”

I kicked out and made contact with her stomach, but she held on firmly and wouldn’t let go. Pissed and knowing that without the use of my right arm I was a goner, I switched tactics. Abruptly lifting the faerie up, giving me a clear view of her stomach, I swiped my death blade’s edge across her belly, splitting it open in a jumble of gore. The faerie fell to the ground, a sound bubbling up from her throat that was one-part rage and one-part agony.

Fury pounded through me as I charged down the street towards Isobel. Her black eyes never left me as I ploughed my way through the sea of fae, gutting and tearing as I cut my way to the surface.

A body smashed into me, pinning me to the ground on my back. Instinctively, I brought up my forearm, holding it against a male faerie’s neck as he pushed down. Sweat trickled down the faerie’s bald head. He was nearly twice my size, and fear stabbed deeply as he smiled, showing off his fish-like mouth.

“The queen says you must die,” said the faerie, his mouth inches from my throat. “I’m going to drink your blood like a good wine.”

My breath hissed in. “I don’t think so, fish breath.” Straining, I pushed the faerie with my forearm. I had to keep him from getting a grip on my throat. I cried out when he bit my arm, making a huge tear in my beautiful leather jacket.

Now I was mad as hell.

Making a fist with my other hand, I smashed it into his skull. He jerked up and let go, raking my arm and sending a pulse of pain through me. Snarling, he shot back, thrashing more savagely. But my own anger and excessive adrenaline wouldn’t be denied. I had to kill the queen.

“You stupid faerie!” I shouted, slamming my fist into his temple as he cried out. “Look what you did to my jacket. I liked this jacket! How do you like this? Huh!” I hit him again and again. “Want some more? Do ya? How about now?” I hit him again, and once his neck was exposed, I sliced across it, rolling from under him before getting a shower of black blood in my face.

I leaped to my feet and fear iced through my body. I froze.

A Dark Arrow stood before me, an arrow already pointed with lethal accuracy. I had a split-second recognition that it wasn’t Daegal as he let his arrow fly towards me.

I twisted to avoid it, only to find a second arrow from the faerie already whipping past me, anticipating my maneuver. The second arrow imbedded into the ground near my foot. If I hadn’t moved, it would have been my throat.

Damn these Dark Arrows were fast. But I was faster.

Lowering myself into a crouch, I grinned at the surprise on the faerie’s face. “You missed, Katniss.”

The faerie’s pale skin darkened. Clearly annoyed, he nocked three arrows.

I raised a brow. “You’re not messing around. Are you?” I couldn’t help but notice the other fae had stopped advancing, as though giving space to the Dark Arrow to finish me off. Not going to happen. I could see Tyrius from the corner of my eye, still tearing the throats of any faeries stupid enough to try and attack him.

With fury flashing in his dark eyes, the Dark Arrow let his arrows fly.

Yes, three arrows were zooming at me at once. But I wasn’t new to this dance of death.

I let my instincts drive me as I hurled myself to the ground, my chin scraping the pavement just as the arrows whipped past my back. I tasted blood in my mouth. Instantly on my feet again, nimble as a cat, I pushed hard off the ground and went for the Dark Arrow, blades swinging. I couldn’t let him nock any more of his arrows.

The last thing I saw was the hatred and surprise in his eyes as I speared my blade into his heart—and then twisted it—just in case.

I yanked my blade out, just as I felt a shift in the air behind me. I turned as another tide of fae came at me. Was it ever going to stop?

I was in a whirling cloud of killing, a death bringer, and these fae were already carrion. Slashing and ducking and twirling, I gave myself over completely to that killing calm. For every fae I struck down, two more took its place. I felt my arms starting to cramp up, and I knew I couldn’t keep this up. Not unless I wanted to become tasty human pie for the fae. My adrenaline was spent. I was strong and had more endurance and strength than twelve angel-born put together, but I wasn’t a god. And I wanted to live.

Tyrius and I were good. Hell, we were awesome. But there was nothing we could do against an endless supply of fangs and claws.

I needed to think. I needed a plan to get Tyrius and me out of here alive.

“Tyrius!” I shouted over the cries as I spotted the great big black panther. And when his yellow eyes found me, I pointed to the nearest building with the least number of windows—a pub. “There! In there!”

And then I ran.

I dashed across the street, leaping and hurdling over surprised looking fae as though I was trying out for the hundred-meter hurdle event in a track and field competition. I didn’t have time to stop and fight. I had to take cover. I had to save my ass and Tyrius’s ass, and trying to fight an impossible fight wasn’t going to cut it.

A dark, deep growl sounded as the big cat stumbled into a sprint beside me, straight for that building.

I reached the door and tried the handle. Shit. It was locked. Panic jerked my eyes to the left side of the pub, where I spotted a side door. I leapt for it and tried the door. I twisted the nob and the door swung open.

“Tyrius, in here! Quick!” I slipped inside, slammed the door shut, and bolted it just as Tyrius passed the threshold.

I jumped back as a thundering crash slammed into the door. The pub shook as the pounding blasted the door, over and over again, as bodies were thrown at the door. I silently thanked the pub owner for installing a steel door. I didn’t know how long the door could withstand the force of constant pounding of hundreds of fae, but it would do for now.

I turned to find the panther’s eyes on me. “Let’s take a look at the front door to make sure it’s locked properly and see if there are other ways the fae can get it. I need to catch my breath and call for backup.” Hopefully Father Thomas and his band of modern-day Templar Knights—the Knights of Heaven.

It was dark except for the red exit lights and night lights. I could still see pretty well with my blessed night vision. I started up the steps that opened up into a bar and lounge area with rows of tables and chairs. I was hit with the smell of blood, human blood mixed in with the scent of alcohol and the stench of fae. The faeries had been inside.

Sure enough, I spotted two dead faeries. I couldn’t tell if they were the new kind or the old kind since their eyes were closed, but they both had holes in their chests and were missing their hearts.

Tyrius’s loud growl caught me off guard, which is why I didn’t notice where I was stepping. My foot caught on something and I nearly tripped, barely catching myself.

I blinked and stared at the decapitated remains of the body I’d stumbled upon. Its head lay near its right arm, and a slightly open mouth revealed pointed canines.

Vampire canines.

My insides knotted as I took a closer look at the pale face and hair, the square jaw. I knew that face. It was Keith, one of Danto’s vamps, the creepy one that clipped the fingers off of those witches and pocketed them like serial killer trophies. He’d given me the creeps, but he was one of Danto’s friends. And the fae had killed him. Decapitated him.

Holy crap. What the hell had happened here? Had Danto tried to take on Isobel? A sick feeling slipped between my thoughts and reasoning as I stared at the decapitated head. Where was Danto?

And that’s when I heard the moan.

It was soft, and any other angel-born would never have heard it over the pounding still echoing on the side door.

Tyrius and I looked at each other, and then I shot to the back of the bar towards the sound. He knew exactly what I was thinking, who this moan might belong to. As always, I acted before thinking. I was surprised at how frightened I was, of how much I cared for a particular vampire and tried hard not to think of the worst.

Tyrius growled again, and I recognized it as a warning growl. This could be a trap. It did smell like fae here. But I had to check. Heart pounding, I slowed my steps and picked carefully through the fallen chairs, tables, and glass. Blinking the sweat from my eyes, I spotted the body, male by the sheer size of him.

He was lying on his side, splayed over a broken chair. His face was partly hidden by his arm, but I could see the deep gashes on his skin and a partial bruise on his jaw. He wasn’t healing. That could only mean one thing; he was already dead, or close to it.

My blood pressure skyrocketed. The body was about the right size, the build, the dark hair color…

My nose started working, and I took in his scent of sour milk and old blood. He was definitely vampire.

But if this was…

This vampire held a broken piece of a chair leg in one hand, like a club, and it was smeared with black blood. With my heart hammering in my ears, I edged a little closer, and closer still, until I had a clear view of his body.

I felt myself pale as I stared at his bare feet.

Damn. The other vampire was Danto.