Blood Wyne (38 page)

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Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Blood Wyne
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Wade examined the tunnel on the other side.
“How is it?” I asked, coughing as the dust filled my mouth. “We’re fucked over here.”
“I think we can manage to squeeze through there.” He flickered his light up to show a crawl space between the roof and the top of the rocks. It looked narrow but possible. We were strong enough to move some of the rocks to give ourselves more space, but we’d have to be careful not to start another rock slide.
“Shit, this is so beyond fucked. Here, let me crawl up there. I’m lighter and will have less of a chance of setting off another avalanche.”
Holding my penlight between my teeth, I slowly inched my way up the precarious mountain of loose rubble. The rocks were mixed with bricks on this side—the side leading back into Charles’s lair—and a layer of dried, powdered mortar seemed to cover everything.
Twice, my footing slipped and a cascade of debris rained down toward Wade. He didn’t flinch, merely held his flashlight steady to give me extra light to see by. I managed to reach the top after about ten minutes of cautious maneuvering. I would have used my ability to hover, but I would have still had to scramble over rock and ruin to reach the crawl space.
Gingerly, I probed the space, testing how steady it was. Another trickle of rubble and then one large boulder went rebounding down, crashing to the floor below, taking a stream of debris with it. Wade lightly jumped back, out of its way.
“Sorry, I barely touched it. Better it went now than later when we’re trying to crawl through here.” I flashed my light into the narrow gap and was pleased to see that the rock slide was only about five feet wide. “I think we can do it. I’m going through, then you join me when I call from the other side.”
“Okay. But be careful.” Wade kept his light aimed in my direction.
I flattened out onto my back and began to wiggle through the gap. The stones were sharp and rough, abrading my hands as I clawed my way through. I went in, face toward the ceiling, to avoid poking an eye out or any such nasty business. Extending my arms above my head, I used my fingers to claw a hold into the ceiling and pulled myself along with my hands as I pushed with my feet. The going was rough and rocks jabbed me in the back, but finally my head broke through and I birthed myself out of the channel, only to find that no floor was in sight—just an endless pile of rocks extending to fill the tunnel halfway to the ceiling.
I cautiously inched my way onto the swath of rubble. I had just passed the fork and was back in the five-foot section of tunnel right before Charles’s lair. It must have been better reinforced than the section leading back into the cavern, since the rubble didn’t reach the ceiling here. I could see the top third of the entrance leading into his chamber—which was relatively clear. That was some strong brickwork in there. Of course it had survived several earthquakes, so what was a hand grenade?
“We’re fielding more rubble over here, but we can make it back into his chamber. Come on.”
“On my way,” Wade shouted back.
Cautiously, while Wade made his way through the cleft in the rocks, I inched my way toward the chamber where Charles had exploded the grenade. I reached the arch leading into his lair and slid through the opening. The room was still illuminated by the demon lamps—three of them had survived, but a fourth had been crushed under the weight of rocks falling down from one side of the wall.
I hurried over to where Charles had been standing, and there was nothing to see. If he’d been killed, he would have turned to dust. But suppose . . . suppose he’d survived?
No
, my mind answered. That wasn’t possible. He’d been holding the grenade . . . or had he? Had he lobbed it at us when we ran? Could he have possibly escaped?
“Any sign of him?”
Wade’s voice startled me, and I jumped. He was at my side in the blink of an eye. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. So, any clue as to—”
A sound alerted both of us, and we turned just in time to see some of the rocks moving from the mini-slide over against the wall. And then I saw a foot kick away a boulder the size of my head, and then another.
“Charles—that has to be him.” I glanced around, looking for a stake. The ones on my belt had splintered in the chaos.
Wade grabbed up a board and smashed it over his knee, so one long sliver stuck out from the end. He tossed me the other piece and, though not a perfect point, it was pointed enough to use as a stake.
Charles rose from the bed of rock, a triumphant glimmer in his eye. “I told you. I am immortal.”
“You were lucky,” I said, hissing as my fangs descended and I began to circle him. Wade took the other side, and we hedged him in, trying our best to keep him from escaping.
“I am the sword of justice.” Charles started in my direction, his face awash with the joy only a martyr can feel. “I will cleanse Earth of the abominations of the flesh and all the world will know of my coming and tremble.”
I ducked in then, as he raised his hands in triumph, joyous and feral. He’d left his chest open to attack and I raced directly into him, ramming him with the piece of wood, feeling the rip as it tore through his chest and into his heart. Charles stared at me, disbelief replacing the joy, and then—with one last shriek—he was gone. Dust floated to the ground where he’d been standing.
“Martyrs usually don’t have a lot of common sense,” Wade said, putting down his own makeshift stake. He knelt by the lingering wisps of dust and ashes that were the only remains signifying Charles’s existence. “He was a tormented soul. Even if we’d caught him before he turned murderous, I don’t think we could have done anything for him.”
“Neither do I.” I looked around the room. Religious icons littered the walls, but Charles had spread blood on them—no doubt the blood of innocents. “I’ll never get over the fact that religion can be such a boon, a salve to some, and a license to murder for others. Extremists from any faith scare me.”
“Now our question is, can we get out of here?”
We examined the door opposite the tunnels and found that they led directly to a manhole tunnel. I floated up, dislodging the cover to peek out. We were in the park. Only two blocks away from where we’d gone in. There was a crowd down near the original manhole, and Chase’s car was there.
Wade and I jogged down the street. I could see Chase standing there, Iris beside him.
I couldn’t resist sauntering up to them, about to ask
What’s up?
when my question died on my lips. There was a sinkhole in the street, in the center of the intersection, about twenty yards from the manhole. Dust billowed up from the hole as a group of firemen and FH-CSI officers stared down into it.
Iris saw me first, and raced over to throw her arms around my waist. “Menolly! You’re safe!”
Chase whirled. “Menolly! Wade! Thank God you’re okay. What happened? We were waiting for you, and then after a while there was this loud explosion and part of the street caved in.”
“We got him.” I looked at Chase, shaking my head. “He was too far gone. There was no chance to stop him other than to kill him. He’s dust. It was Charles Shalimar. He thought he was some sort of martyr, called himself the sword of justice. He also managed to find himself a live hand grenade, and that’s what happened to your street.”
“You guys lived through a grenade?” Chase stared at us, his eyes wide. “Shit. Are you okay?”
I nodded. “We’re hardier than you think. Charles survived it, too, but he couldn’t survive a stake through the heart. The killing spree is over, Chase, but now we have to put out the aftermath. You might want to spend a little time in your news conference mentioning that a couple of vampires took care of the problem.”
He caught my intentions. “Yeah, if we show that you guys willingly went after one of your own, that might be enough to appease the recent spate of hate crimes against vampires.”
Maybe, but I wasn’t so sure. I had a nasty feeling things were going to explode pretty soon, unless some clear and definite lines were drawn. But I wasn’t going to dampen his optimism. He’d seen too much horror over the past week or two, too many bodies. At least we’d caught our man and taken him down.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I walked over to Iris, who had moved back to stare down into the hole, next to Wade.
“You need to get home. Morning’s not far off.” She glanced up at me—I was barely five one but I was still more than a foot taller than she was. “Menolly, things are shifting, aren’t they? Something is on the move . . .”
“Yeah, I can feel it, too.” I stared into the chasm, wondering what we were talking about. But instinctively, I knew. Something big was coming, something big and something bad, and it felt like things were growing more and more chaotic. “Let’s go home.”
Wade gave me a quick hug and headed out for his apartment. I waved to Chase and headed back to my Jag, Iris beside me.
“How did you get down here?” I asked, after a moment.
“I made Vanzir drive me down, then told him to go home. What the hell happened with him? He seems mute, almost. . . docile.”
“You don’t want to know,” I whispered. “But you will. Soon, Iris. It’s not up to me to tell you.”
And with that, we climbed in my car and headed for home, the silent streets passing by in a blur of snow and concrete.
 
When we got home, I silently went in to pick up Maggie. She was dead to the world but the minute I lifted her, she woke and gave me a sleepy yawn, then a giggle, and yanked on my braids. I held her close, sitting on the end of Iris’s bed, kissing her downy head and ruffling the calico fur that covered her body. Her wings folded and unfolded with delight, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and went to sleep against my shoulder.
For some reason, my heart felt like it was breaking, and for the first time in a long while, I wanted to cry. I pressed my lips to her head, then her nose, and then rubbed my cheek against the top of her head.
Iris came in, watching me closely. After a few minutes, I felt like I was back in control of my emotions and I softly slid Maggie back into her crib and followed Iris out into the kitchen. Shade and Delilah were there, both wearing pajamas. Vanzir was straddling a chair, leaning his arms on the back of it.
“We have a lot to talk about,” I said, sitting down next to Iris. “Can we do tea? I may not be able to drink it, but damn it, I need some feeling of continuity.”
Iris nodded, bustling over to the sink to fill the kettle. Shade offered me a bottle of blood from the fridge, but I wasn’t hungry. I’d drunk deep from Roman and still felt sated from feeding on him.
Delilah pulled out Camille’s steno pad. “Okay, where are we at? And if we’re going to do this, I need cookies.”
“You just want cookies because you have a sweet tooth that won’t quit,” Shade said, grinning as he brushed his fingers down the side of her face.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing, because it’s part of you.” He bent to kiss her full on the lips, and I tried to repress a grin.
“Get a room, you two. Come on, let’s please get a handle on what’s going down.” I waited till Delilah was finished smooching with Shade and paying attention, then said, “Wade and I killed the vampire who was murdering hookers. In doing so, we blasted a hole in the middle of the intersection. Or rather, our killer did. He had a grenade. Grenades go boom when you pull the pin. Which he did.”
Delilah blinked. “Say what? He was carrying around a grenade?”
“No, he had one in his bedroom down in the tunnels. By the way, there are several things we need to get on the table. Vanzir—I have to tell them. They have to know.” I was talking about the Demon Underground, but apparently he misunderstood.
“Fine, so tell them. Camille would have to sooner or later. I’ve lost my powers thanks to a big-ass mistake.” He stared at them, and before I could stop him, he added, “I . . . I overpowered your sister in the tunnels when Morio was attacked, and the Moon Mother stripped me of my powers.”
Delilah jumped up, her eyes wide. “You did
what
?”
“Stop—before you think a single thing.” I stood up and crossed between their line of sight. “Delilah, stop. Camille and I had a long talk. She’s dealing with this—and there were extenuating circumstances that forced Vanzir’s hand. It was a bad situation, no matter how you looked at it, and neither one had much say in the matter. Vanzir’s feeding got away from him and Camille made a choice.”
Delilah was shaking—I could see the tremors in her hand. She slowly took her seat, glowering at Vanzir. “What did Trillian and Morio say?” Then a look of stark terror filled her face. “Oh Great Mother, what the hell do you think Smoky’s going to do? This isn’t something that you can keep from him.”
“We kind of figured that out, and hell . . . I don’t know. I’m thinking we should send Vanzir away for a little while until Camille has a chance to talk to Smoky and smooth things over. We could send him to Otherworld for a little while, or to stay with Grandmother Coyote.”
Vanzir shook his head. “I can’t stay with her, she scares the crap out of me. I could stay with a friend in the Demon Underground.”

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