Blood and Bullets (24 page)
Before I could even think, let alone react, she was on me. I only had time to put my arm between us when she slammed into me. Her hands wrapped around my left arm as she rode me to the ground. Talons sank deep into my arm. She wasn't going for blood, she was trying to pull the muscle from bone.
Pain exploded in my shoulder.
Taking the kukri knife, I buried its blade under her ribcage, digging for her heart. It slid in a flow of blood over my hand. It must have hurt her because she drew back with a scream and shoved me away with her forearm. It was like being hit in the chest with a baseball bat.
I rolled on the ground, bouncing like a skipping stone. Vampire dust stuck to the blood coating both my arms now. My left one was in agony from the damage she had done, but I managed to hold on to the kukri in my right.
The thought of defeat crept into my mind. Appollonia was too strong. I was too hurt, and this was it. The voice of doubt in my head told me: We were all going to die here and she was going to win. Not only win, but triumph and continue on with her evil ways.
I told that voice to shut the fuck up.
Pushing myself to stand, my grip tightened on the handle of the kukri. Its blade felt like it weighed fifty pounds in my hand. My left arm hung at my side, almost useless. Every bone I had felt like it was bruised. Pain coursed through my body, racing along my bloodstream and nerve endings in a mad sprint with exhaustion. The side of my face had swollen, shutting my vision on that side. Bleary-eyed, I turned to face my enemy.
She stood hunched at the waist. Blood coursed down her hip and thigh from the gash I had put in her stomach. Even as I watched it was knitting closed. It wasn't the liquid magick of earlier when she held the Spear, but she was still healing. As the wound closed up, she straightened. Covered in blood and grime from the dust, she looked like hell. Hell with honey-colored eyes that flashed lightning rage just for me.
Appollonia tensed and I saw it in those eyes that she was about to make her move to finish me once and for all. She was faster than me, stronger than me, and almost impossible to kill, but I was ready for her.
Ready for this to be over and done with.
Waiting, I faced her dead-on. The kukri was held back slightly behind me. I felt the air pressure change as she leaped at me. Twisted to the right, I let her slip past me, her skin brushing mine, sliding on the blood that covered both of us. I threw my nearly useless arm under her outstretched one and wrapped my fingers in that thick hair. My grip jerked her up short, feet skidding out to kick in the air as I lifted her up by her scalp. I used the one second I had to slam the kukri's blade into her throat and draw it across as hard as I could.
Blood shot out in a cold spray that forced me to close my eyes. I felt the edge of the blade catch as it bit into vertebrae and then continue as it separated them. My left arm was spent and couldn't hold her up any longer. I let go. Her hair pulled at my fingers, sticky and tangled with viscera. Shaking loose, it slipped away so that she fell to the ground at my feet. Blinking away the blood, I looked down, watching her eyes dart about wildly. The gash in her throat yawned open, white bone sticking out from a red mess. Only the thinnest bits of viscera held the two sides of her neck together.
She made gurgling sounds and clawed at her throat. I waited for her to turn to dust, but she didn't.
I had almost completely severed her head. The bitch should be done; instead, as I watched in horror, the flesh of her neck began to mend and repair itself. Like taffy made of gore, it stretched across the wound, pulling it together, closing it. I screamed in rage and frustration, my voice tearing its way from my throat.
“Remember the Curse.” Longinus's voice was barely a rasp as he called to me. “Remember ...”
Dropping the kukri, I fumbled the wooden stake from its sheath on my thigh. It was a two-foot length of hawthorn that was straight and true and ground to a fine point on one end. I stepped over her with it in my hand and knelt down, sitting on her hips. Weakly, her legs thrashed trying to dislodge me. One hand left her throat, moving to protect her heart.
“Enjoy your time in hell, bitch. You deserve it.”
The stake sank into her chest with all my weight behind it. The thick breastbone slowed it down but didn't stop it. Her ribs cracked as I forced the wood through them. Blood welled up around the stake as I jerked it back and forth to widen the pathway. With a sudden give, the stake tore into her heart like paper and I felt its point thud into the floor beneath her. Her power poured out when I pierced her heart, rushing around me like a cold, dead wind. One tear of blood slid from her eye; then she exploded into dust beneath me.
“Take that, bitch.”
Slowly, I stood and walked over to where everyone else was. Every ounce of my body was a knot of pain. My joints felt like they were locked in place. Every inch of my skin felt like it had been scraped off, and my head was pounding from exertion on top of injury from back at the church. But I was alive, the monster was dead, and the day had been saved.
One foot in front of the other, I went to check on my people. The line had been held, but just barely, and it was my duty to count the cost.
I knelt next to Charlotte beside Longinus. She had shifted back to human form and tears streaked through the bloody grime on her face. Pain-filled eyes looked at me. “We have to help him.”
Longinus's face was chalky with pain and blood loss. His eyes had sunk into dark hollows and sweat poured out of him. The slaughterhouse smell of torn intestine hovered over him. The blood had slowed its rush out of his body and was now pulsating slowly into a puddle around him. It was black. The lethargic pulses meant his heart was slowing down. The Spear jutted from his back, coated in gore from his body.
I put a hand on her arm. Shaking my head, I said, “I think it is too late.”
“No!” she cried. “He is immortal, he can't die! I have seen him recover from worse at her hands.”
I shook my head. “The Spear is his weakness. It alone can kill him.” Tears ran freely down her face now. “Help me take it out of him to make his last minutes as comfortable as possible.”
Charlotte nodded and helped me roll him on his side. A groan of pain escaped from his lips. I steadied his shoulders with my hip because my left arm was a dead weight at my side. Appollonia had done too much damage for it to work. My right hand wasn't in much better shape, but I grasped the Spear behind the blade where it went out of his back.
When my hand closed on the Spear heat from it poured into my hand and swept up my arm. Strength returned, following the flow of power. Slowly, carefully, I drew the Spear from Longinus's body. It made a wet sucking sound, and blood and gore spilled out behind it.
The longer I held the shaft of the Spear the more I felt the power of it crawl into my body. The sensation was like when the angel had transfused me with her essence. Fire ran in my veins. As the power passed through me my strength returned and my wounds healed. As I watched, my skin reknit and repaired itself. I felt whole and vital. I felt like I could conquer the world.
Looking down at Longinus, I saw him with new eyes. My ability to feel supernatural abilities was amped up, supercharged like it was on steroids and crack. I could see the power of immortality that lay in every fiber of his being. It almost had a scent that filled my nostrils. I knew without doubt I could call that power to my will. The Spear of Destiny amplified my ability and pushed it to the next level. I not only could feel Longinus's power, I could control it, make it do what I wanted it to.
Holding the Spear, I put my other hand on his forehead. The skin was slick with oily sweat and cold under my fingers. I don't know how to explain what I did next. My power unfurled inside me and slid down my arm, sinking into his flesh and bone. It called his immortality to awakening. Coaxing the sparks of immortality in his cells, I made them work again and forced them to begin mending the damage done by the Spear. With my new sight I saw the words of God's Curse written on his bones, glaring out at me through a curtain of flesh like radioactive scrimshaw.
His eyes flew open and began to flare with golden light. That light filled his pupils until they shone like tiny lamps in his skull, the glow from them chasing highlights along his cheekbones. This did not seem weird to me because I knew mine were shining the same. Under my guidance, the power of his immortality re-formed his body and healed the wound. When it was done, Longinus sat upright, gasping for breath.
There was a tug to my power, drawing my eyes to look at Charlotte. As our gazes met, my power arced between us like electricity. I could feel her animal inside her and I knew I could call that out too. I knew with certainty I could make her change into a spider or even into her half-spider form. I could strip away her humanity if I wanted. Her power was mine to control.
I couldn't take it from her, no more than I could take Longinus's immortality on myself, but I could push her animal so far inside her that she would never turn again. My power probed deeper in her, just exploring. It was curious about the flavor of her abilities. Her animal reacted to me. It felt me and tried to hide from my gaze. Charlotte gasped and I knew she felt it scurry inside of her. With my power roiling around in there, I felt it too. I knew everything about her in that moment.
Strumming the healing part of her animal like a delicate instrument, I used it to repair her also. Her side closed where her spider legs had been torn off, sealing like a Ziploc bag. She would be whole the next time she changed, I knew it. With wide eyes she examined her arms and legs where they were smooth and free from cuts.
Standing, I walked over to where Father Mulcahy cradled Larson. He looked almost as bad as Longinus had. His short red hair was plastered to his skull. Those thin arms clung to the priest, but his legs lay sprawled and still. Father Mulcahy looked up at me.
“I saw what you just did. Can you do the same for him?”
Extending my hand to Larson I also extended my power. It probed Larson, looking to see what flavor of power I could use. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the power into him, forcing it through his limbs, inserting it under his skin. Searching, seeking, hunting for the means to mend his injury.
And came up completely empty.
There was nothing supernatural inside him to draw from. He had no special ability I could use to heal him. Larson was completely human. I shook my head, remembering what I had seen the vampire do to him.
“No, I can't. Let's load him up and get the two of you to the hospital. Then we will blow this Popsicle stand.”
24
I
HATE
hospitals. Everyone does. People who work in hospitals hate them. They smell all wrong, disinfectant and sickness roiling around to make an atmosphere of suffering. You have to be quieter than you do anywhere else when everything in you wants to scream and fight and cling to life. Here I was, though, in a hospital room.
HATE
hospitals. Everyone does. People who work in hospitals hate them. They smell all wrong, disinfectant and sickness roiling around to make an atmosphere of suffering. You have to be quieter than you do anywhere else when everything in you wants to scream and fight and cling to life. Here I was, though, in a hospital room.
It was a double room. Father Mulcahy lay on the bed closest to the door, his leg was swathed in bandages from hip to calf. He was sitting up, his Bible on his lap, open. Longinus nodded to me from beside him. Charlotte and Tiff both gave me small smiles.
The other bed held Larson.
He was pale, hair greasy from being unwashed, and skin still waxy looking. Tubes ran from his arm into an IV and a morphine pump. Kat sat in a chair next to him, holding his hand. She looked like she hadn't slept in the three days since Larson had been checked in. I knew for a fact she had been here all three days. Neither of them was looking my way, their focus was on the white-coated doctor at the foot of the bed.
“... damage to the ligaments surrounding the spine, and the spinal column itself has been compromised. Surgery to close the wound was successful and you show no sign of infection, so that is promising.” The doctor was reading off the chart in his hand, not looking at anyone.
Larson cleared his throat loudly. “Are you done dicking around now?” he said, his voice soft but strong.
The doctor adjusted his glasses and straightened up. “Excuse me, Mr. Larson?”
Red flush rose up Larson's neck and into his cheeks. The look in his eye said it was anger and not embarrassment, like it once would have been. “I asked if you were done dicking around with the diagnosis. Tell me in plain English. Will I walk again?”
The doctor's chest puffed out. “Now, we can't say anything for sure, there is swelling in the area, nothing is certain... .”
“Bullshit.” Larson pointed his finger at the doctor. “You have spent three days doing three different surgeries. Now, cut to the fucking chase and tell me if I will ever walk again.”
The doctor's face mottled purple and his jaw clenched, bulging in rage. He drew in a breath to lay into Larson for his tone. The priest threw his blankets back. The Immortal, the lycanthrope, and I all took a step in his direction. Kat stood to her feet, fire boiling in her eyes.
The doctor's eyes flashed wildly around him, subconsciously realizing he was a jackal in a den of lions. Visibly, he gathered himself together and his voice was tentative when he spoke. “No, you will most likely never take another step.”
Larson's head settled back into the pillow behind him. Exhaustion swirled in his eyes. “Thank you, Doc. I appreciate your honesty.” His eyes closed slowly, the lids purple to match the hollows around his eyes. “Now piss off and leave me to be with my friends.”
The doctor put the chart down and brushed past me. My gun was sticking out of my open jacket and he eyed it nervously as he went by. The door to the room shushed open and then closed, and we were alone together with just the hum of the morphine pump.
Nobody said anything. The near-silence grew heavy, so I spoke up, “Well, that was a different Larson than the one I first met.”
The man in question gave me a pained smile. “I guess I am just too tired to listen to bullshit.” Kat smoothed her hand down his arm. It was covered in bandages. Larson was pretty busted up. Aside from the injury to his spine, he was covered in cuts and scrapes. So he was bandaged up like a high-school play's version of the Mummy. We had told the ER that he had been in a motorcycle accident and then been attacked by a wild animal as he lay until he was found.
Yeah, I know, but we couldn't very well tell them the truth.
Father Mulcahy was going to be fine. He had a deep cut through his quadriceps from the Spear, and that required some surgery, but he should heal. I had pulled some strings with folks who I had helped over the years to get them into the same room. I knew Larson would need help adjusting to his condition, and there was nobody better for that than the priest.
Walking over to the bed Larson was in, I touched his shoulder. His eyes opened to look at me. Reaching over, I took his hand from Kat and put it in mine. I shook it gently.
“Thank you” was all I said. Nodding once, he closed his eyes again.
I mouthed good-bye to Kat, who smiled at me, and walked around to the priest. He pointed to his eye and then pointed to Larson. I nodded and moved to leave the room. Longinus and Charlotte fell in step behind me. Once the door was closed I turned to them both.
Longinus was wearing a long, dark trench coat that hung on him like a cape. I knew the Spear of Destiny was hidden under its folds, close at hand for him. He had purchased new clothes, including the coat. He stood wearing charcoal slacks over a pale pink button-front shirt. I was a jeans and T-shirt guy, but I could see that his clothes were very expensive.
Charlotte stood next to him, her arm touching his in a line. Her hair was pushed back and held in place with a beautiful matching set of ivory combs. A sleek ivory dress hugged her like a lover, displaying her body without sacrificing her dignity. She looked as if she were headed for a date.
Longinus extended his hand to me and shook mine in a tight grasp. “Thank you once again for the rescue, Deacon.”
“No problem. So you are heading off to the airport now?”
He nodded. “Yes, Charlotte is willing to give me a ride there.” The Were-spider in question blushed a bit as I looked her way. It was hard to see with her dark chocolate skin, but the hospital had bright lights.
“How are the others getting settled in?” The Were-spiders under Appollonia's control had been left behind. Lycanthropes are amazing creatures, but they would have never been able to make the speed and distance the vampires had managed. When we killed her, it had left them at loose ends. Most of them had no one to return to because the vampire bitch had slaughtered their families when she took them under her spell. Charlotte had taken it on herself to find them homes and jobs here in the Metro-Atlanta area.
Normally, Were-spiders formed clusters according to subspecies and didn't intermingle, but with the trauma of their shared experience, it seemed we would have the world's first commingled group.
“It's going well. They are all finding places. There is a lot of pain and anger left still, but I have found therapists who are aware of exactly what they are dealing with to help.” She smiled. “I almost have my house back to myself.”
“Good.” I turned my attention back to the Immortal. “So if you are flying, what are you doing with the Spear?”
He smiled widely. “Long ago I discovered one of the benefits of being a legendary holy relic is that it doesn't register with any technological device. As long as I keep it covered under my coat, I can pass through metal detectors and X-ray machines.” That explained the long coat.
His face grew serious. Leaning in, he dropped his voice so that only the three of us could hear it. “Deacon, do you remember the first time we spoke?” I nodded that I did. “When you told me your name I said something in another language.” Another nod. “It was Hebrew and what I said was
Dam Mala-chaim
.”
Dam Mala-chaim
.”
I waited for it. I didn't know what he was about to say, but I knew something was coming.
“It means âBlood of Angels.' That is the name I have heard for you before.” His eyes burned fiercely as he leaned closer. “Be careful. There are people and things of this world talking about you. The same people who talk about me and seek my immortality and the Spear's power.”
Understanding made my chest tight. The kind of power and magick you could manage if you fueled it with an Immortal who had been cursed by God would be incredible. And after Appollonia I was well aware of what the Spear of Destiny in the wrong hands could accomplish. Even from my short time holding it, I had been affected. If those same people were talking about me, then I would have to watch my back. Nodding to Longinus again, I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for the warning. If you need anything, give us a ring.”
“You do the same, and if I hear anything else about you, I will call.” We stood for a moment, the tension building between us from the weight of what he had said. It was broken by Charlotte reaching out to hug me. Her arms circled around my chest and mine went around her shoulders.
We broke apart and she took Longinus's offered arm. With a final wave and a nod they walked away, heading down the hallway to the elevators.
I stood, thinking about what the Immortal had said. All I needed was a mysterious set of enemies I knew nothing about. Ah well, to hell with it. I would burn that bridge when I came to it. The soft click of the hospital room door made me turn.
Tiff had just stepped out into the hallway. She gave me a smile and walked over to me. Reaching out, her hand slid down my jacket sleeve until it reached my own. I took note that she had reached for my left hand, leaving my right free to get to my gun.
“I am glad I caught you.”
My eyebrow went up and a smile crept across my face. “Oh really? Why is that?”
“I know it will be a little while until Father Mulcahy is ready to leave the hospital, and Kat seems to want to stay with Larson, so I wanted to offer you my help. I have club experience, so if you wanted, I could help you with Polecats until they get back.”
I looked at her. Her hand was still touching mine, her skin warm and soft. Those big blue eyes stared up at me, wanting to know where the two of us stood after everything that had happened. I wasn't sure myself, but I wanted to find out. Smiling, I took a cue from the priest and raised her hand up. Pressing my lips softly to the skin, I kissed it. “I would really like that. Thank you.”
Her smile exploded across her face. Quickly she rose up and kissed me on my cheek, lips warm and soft on my skin. Her arm slid into mine and we began to walk to the elevators.
I would be glad for her help. There, I admitted it. Yes, we had stopped Appollonia and saved humanity, and that had seemed to quiet things down for the last few days. But monsters are like buses. Wait long enough and there would be another asshole coming around the corner, trying to enslave humanity or destroy the world, or whatever evil plot was cool at the time.
There always was.
That's what keeps me in business.
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