Dead Rising (20 page)

They’d killed the people they thought responsible for the attack, but there could still be unfinished business that they needed to handle tonight. I bit my lip, trying to process my mixed feelings over the gang murders. According to Dario, the gang had attacked them unprovoked, killing three and wounding many more. They were defending themselves. As a Templar I should be okay with that.

But maybe… I again wondered if Russell was involved in last night’s attack, working with the gang. If so there might be a repeat performance either tonight or in the near future. How often could he raise spirits from the grave, how much energy could he amass in a twenty-four hour period?

If Russell was involved, how long before the vampires traced it to him? And if not, the vampires still might want to silence him, to keep him from airing the dirty laundry of those murders forty years ago.

I shook the thoughts out of my mind and took a steading breath to focus. “The symbol is necromantic in nature and combines foundational as well as European, voodoo and possibly Native American elements. It takes considerable energy to activate and would require either a high level mage, or the extra power of a full moon or weather event to successfully work the spell. The intent is to call back the soul into either a raised physical form or as a specter with control over the physical plane. A focus is required specific to the soul being summoned.”

Leonora nodded, her hands restless on the arms of the chair. “Does the spellcaster control the specter? You mentioned voodoo—is the raised spirit in thrall to the one who brings them back?”

Hell if I knew. Based on what I’d seen in the cemetery, I had a good hunch, though. “No. Friendly spirits can be questioned or become helpful to the summoner if they so choose. Control of the undead would require something beyond this symbol.”

“Such as?”

That was way beyond what I’d been paid to research, but I wasn’t about to point that fact out. “There are some artifacts that allow the holder to control the undead. I can assume that there might be a very high level necromantic spell that does so too, although I have no knowledge of one.”

“What are these artifacts and where are they? Are there any mages alive today with the skill to perform such a level of spell?”

Leonora was leaning so far forward in her chair that I expected her boobs to pop free of the corset at any moment. Her dark eyes were wild with anger…anger and fear.

Fear. Russell had already summoned his dead family, presumably to question them about their murders. It was possible that he was instrumental in the specter attack Saturday night. Were they afraid he’d spread the news of their misdeeds, afraid of the specters returning for another attack, or something else entirely?

“I must ask, is there someone in particular that you worry might be summoned? An old enemy perhaps?”

Her eyes flickered with anger. The atmosphere in the room grew decidedly chilly.

“That is none of your business. Answer my question.”

There was more to their worry than random attacking specters. Who didn’t they want the necromancer to summon—and most especially control? Could it be Shay, the long dead blood slave? I couldn’t see how the spirit of a dead girl could be any kind of threat to a powerful
Balaj
. Why were they so worried about the ability of a necromancer to bring a spirit from the dead and possibly control it?

Russell already had the information he needed from the spirits of his family. What would he do next that had Lenora so very afraid?

“There are two artifacts within the Temple that deal with undead. I am unaware of any mage with the power to perform that level of spell without their assistance.”

There. Done. Contract with the vampires satisfied. I could leave and have no further business dealings with them. At this point I didn’t even want the rest of my money. I just wanted to get the heck out of there and back to my apartment where I would continue to research the vampires’ activity without their deadline looming over me. What
was
Russell planning to do? And who was Leonora so worried that he’d raise from the dead?

The vampire mistress relaxed. I felt the need to tell her there were tons of unknown artifacts still outside the Temple, that magic users were a secretive bunch. There could have been an adept level Necromancer right in my apartment building, and I wouldn’t know unless he started casting spells in the parking lot or in his living room.

“Do you know who crafted this symbol?”

Here’s where I hoped vampires didn’t have any special lie-detection skills. “No, I don’t.”

She exchanged another silent glance with Dario. This wordless communication between the pair of them was making me uneasy. I held my breath, but before Leonora could give my continued existence the royal thumbs up or down there was a deafening crash and a scream from the hallway.

I jumped, my heart nearly exiting my chest. The two vampires beside Leonora dove in front of her, shielding her. Spinning around I saw the other vampires, including Dario, had already raced out into the front hallway. My Templar training kicked in and I ran after them.

I should have hid behind a chair instead. There was another crash, this time followed by a series of shouts as well as screams. I hesitated at the doorway, yanking my butter knife out of one pocket and my gold crucifix from the other. Then I quickly looked into the hallway.

There was blood, a whole lot of dark red blood with chunks of flesh splattered on the walls and floors. Semi-corporeal specters fought, tearing limbs and pieces from the vampires. I stared, unable to process what I was before me. I’d trained my whole life as a soldier, but never seen anything like this.

We were under attack, and me without my sword. I couldn’t even see it since there was a battle in the hallway, between me and my weapon. I swear that was the last time I got talked into leaving it behind. Although I wasn’t sure what good my sword could do even if I managed to reach it. Each time the vampires got a grip on a specter, the beings turned to smoke, resuming a physical form once they’d shaken off their opponent. Vampires could take a lot of physical damage, but they were being torn apart bit by bit while the spirits remained unharmed.

What the heck? Was this Russell’s retaliation? The gang continuing their war with a different necromancer? This wasn’t my fight. The vampires weren’t blameless victims. It wasn’t my duty to defend them, or even get involved. Not one Templar would blame me for ducking out the back door and leaving the vampires to reap whatever shitstorm they had sown. In fact, this was the perfect distraction for me to get away without any unpleasantness regarding the completion of my contract with Leonora.

Except that would mean I would be leaving my sword behind. Yep, that was it. I was going to get my sword then get out of here. I wasn’t going to engage in battle or defend a bunch of murderous vampires. Not at all.

I had a butter knife, a keychain, and a can of mace. None of them were effective against spirits. I’d come here prepared to defend myself against vampires, not specters. There was only one thing in my bag of tricks that might work, and I wasn’t sure what effect it would have on the vampires. I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing, though. If I did, I was going to witness a massacre, and there were no guarantee that these spirits wouldn’t turn their fury on me when they were done.

I stepped into the hallway, hugging the wall as I made my way forward. I needed a specter that wasn’t touching a vampire, but they were all in the middle of combat. Some of the vampires were teaming up on the spirits, but the damage they were inflicting was far outweighed by what they were receiving. I needed them to step back so I could have a clear shot at one of the spirits.

“Hey,” I shouted, dodging a vampire’s back-swing. “Fight me instead. Me. Templar. Come get me.”

No one paid any attention, so I picked up a spindly, decorative hallway table and swung, bashing a vampire in the face when it passed right through the spirit.

Oops. The vampire’s head snapped backward from the impact, and he slid on the bloody carpet. That hadn’t worked out as I’d planned, and I wasn’t sure the six inches of space between them would be enough to protect the vampire, but it was all I had.

I raised my crucifix. “
Jesu, luys im chanaparhy
.”

The tunnel shot out in front of me. The vampire had good reflexes, throwing himself backward away from the light. The spirit didn’t have such skill. The three foot wide beam hit him square on, blasting him into a shower of sparks. The tunnel of light vanished the moment it exploded the specter, but the vampires hit by the sparks shrieked, their skin burning.

Not the best of solutions, even if it was all I had. I didn’t have an opportunity to think of something else, because now I had the attention of the other spirits. Five of them abandoned their attacks on the vampires to come straight at me.

“
Jesu, luys im
—” My blessing ended with a scream as they tore into me. I swung blindly with my knife, but it passed right through them.

I’d spelled this knife thinking I’d need to defend myself against vampires, not bodiless spirit beings. I needed my sword. I could see it on the floor next to a broken lamp and a smashed table, far out of reach. Swinging the knife like a wild woman, I tried to push past the spirits and the wall of vampires toward my sword. How could something be solid enough to feel like they were ripping my flesh while they were still non-corporeal?

It was then I realized the spirits weren’t actually tearing my body. They were passing their hands through flesh and bone and pulling at my very soul. I kept stabbing with the knife, in panic mode and unable to concentrate enough to repeat the blessing. Fine droplets of blood flew in an arc following my arm, and I realized they were from me. I was bleeding out my pores, and when they managed to get a good grip on my soul, I’d be dead.

My knife was a flash of metal. I held the cross aloft and tried again to say the blessing, but nothing came out of my mouth. The pain was horrible, my arm continuing to swing on a form of auto-pilot, no doubt from my Templar training.

Something large hit me, knocking the breath from my lungs and crashing me to the floor. I was face down, finally sheltered from the specters, well aware that my savior was taking the brunt of their attack.

“Get her out of here.”

It was Dario’s voice. A wave of relief crashed through me as I realized it wasn’t him on top of me being torn apart by the specters but some other vampire.

“No, my sword. I just need my sword.”

Hands grabbed me, yanking me out from under the vampire and hauling me out of the foyer toward the back of the house.

“Get off me.” I struggled in vain against the vampire’s greater strength. I hated I was being hustled to safety like some helpless damsel. I was a Templar. I’d been trained my whole life to fight. I just needed to get my sword.

“Dario says get you out of here, so that’s where you’re going. Come on.” The vampire half-dragged me through a back room, swinging a large metal door open. A burst of cold damp air hit me and I shivered, pulling back. The vampire paused, and then tightened his grip. As he turned to face me I saw his eyes black and feral, as well as the sharp points of his fangs.

Shit. I knew Dario had intended to get me safely out of the house, but from the look in this vampire’s eyes he’d changed his mind.

Injured vampires needed blood. This guy was injured, and beyond caring how much he took. I reached for my crucifix keychain, dismayed to find that both the keychain and the knife had fallen from my hands as I’d hit the floor. I looked down and saw my hands, as well as the front of my clothing, splattered with blood—my blood. I was a walking buffet standing right in front of a vampire lost in blood lust.

“Dario said to get me out of here, to let me leave out the back door.” I halted and tensed. If he was going to continue, he was going to either have to drag me or give me a good reason for proceeding forward.

“No. We’re not.” The vampire’s grip tightened, and he pulled.

I leaned backward, remembering how my tussle in the SUV with Dario had turned out. I had more room to maneuver this time, and my goal was escape, although that goal seemed unlikely given this guy probably didn’t care whether he broke my arm or not.

“You’re going down those stairs if I have to throw you down them,” the vampire snarled.

My whole body went cold.

I’d read enough true crime novels to know that chances of escape, let alone survival, diminished significantly once captors got their victim where they wanted her, but Dario had said the vampires would think twice before harming me, that there would be repercussions for killing a Templar.

There were repercussions for killing an entire family in their home, but that hadn’t seemed to stop them. And this was one vampire, injured and hungry. He wouldn’t care one bit about repercussions right now. Hunger.

I had a choice, fight this guy and probably die. No one would hear the struggle or hear us scream, and I had nothing but my bare hands as a weapon. Or I could let him chain me up somewhere. I could try to escape once he left me alone, possibly be somewhere with a weapon I could use to protect myself.

Screams and sounds of smashing furniture intensified from the hallway. The vampire yanked, nearly pulling my arm from its socket.

“Come on. Get moving now.”

He needed to get back to the battle, and if I didn’t go willingly, I was going to find myself trying to escape with a dislocated arm and probably two broken legs.

So I went, easing my weight forward as the vampire lead me down the stairs, wincing when he tightened his grip just a hair shy of bone-crushing. We went toward the back of the basement and down a second set of sturdy stairs into an empty, dim room with a steel door on the opposite wall. The vampire jerked me forward, slid the bolts, and opened the door. I had a split second to look around, hoping there was something I might be able to use as a weapon, assuming I got out of this locked cement-and-steel room the vampire was about to put me in.

Rope. Chains. What looked like a leg-hold trap. Some well-used wooden benches stacked against the wall. And another set of stairs leading further downward. I squinted at them, trying to see how far they went. Was there a sub-basement? A sub, sub-basement?