Deadly Desire (34 page)

I glanced back down at Billy. There wasn't a whole lot I could do to prevent the reactivation of his flesh, if indeed that was what that magic was about. That was a job for the Directorate magi.

What I
could
do was stop him from becoming a problem if he did rise while we were still here. It wasn't something I really wanted to do, but at least the kid was dead and his spirit had moved on. He'd never know—
and probably wouldn't care—about what I was about to do to his cold, unresponsive flesh.

I blew out a breath, then grabbed Billy's right leg, one hand on the ankle, one hand just above his knee. Then, as sharply as I could, I pushed—one hand down, one hand up. The knee cap shattered, the sound making me wince. I did the same to the left leg, then grabbed his wallet and keys and retreated back through the black wall.

Kye was standing within the pentagram, examining the bloody table.

Find anything?
he said without looking up.

The source of the decaying flesh scent.
I put Billy's items down beside the ramp, then dug the bottles of holy water out from underneath my bodice.
I don't think, you should have done that.

Done what?

Step into that pentagram.
I uncorked one of the bottles and began sprinkling the water onto the pentagram etched into the floor. Steam began to rise and the stone itself began to bubble.

The magic wasn't active.

But there is magic here, and we have no idea how any of it might be activated.
I emptied one bottle over three quarters of the pentagram, then stepped into the ruined circle and uncorked the second bottle. I raised it above the stone tabletop, then let the water pour down along its entire length.

As the stone began to bubble and steam, something shrieked. A high, inhuman noise grated at my nerves and made me want to cover my ears. I spun around,
looking for the source of the ungodly sound. Nothing appeared to have changed. We were alone in the room, and the shadows remained empty of life or movement.

And yet… something
had
changed, but I couldn't define what. Maybe it was just the air. It felt heavier. Angrier, if that made any sense.

The uneasiness that had been riding my insides since we'd stepped into this room suddenly increased, and I had a bad feeling we'd just overstayed our welcome.

I think, we need to get out of here.
I tossed the bottles under the table, then stepped away from it.

In that moment, the magic spiked and the walls exploded, sending a rain of deadly rock shards ricocheting through the room.

I yelped and ducked under the table, using it as a shield against some of the stones as I covered my head with my hands and curled up as small as I could to present less of a target. The sharp little—and not so little—missiles hit me regardless, pounding my arms and body, drawing blood wherever they hit.

It was over within minutes, leaving a silence that made my skin crawl. Because there was something within that silence, something that felt old and filled with magic. The same magic that had infused the room before the explosion.

I think, the shit just hit the fan,
Kye said.

I had an odd feeling that he wasn't talking about the explosion. I moved my arms and opened my eyes.

We were no longer alone in the room. At least a dozen bodies had stepped free from the shattered
remains of the walls and were moving toward us, their movements reminding me of sleepwalkers.

Only I suspected
these
walkers were a whole lot more dangerous to us than to each other.

I guess our sorceress wasn't too impressed with me destroying her pentagram and table.

I guess not,
Kye said, mind voice calm. A shiver went through me. I had a feeling the switch had been pulled, and he'd just become the perfect killer.
I only have six bullets.

Then don't waste them. Bullets won't stop zombies—you can only do that by deprogramming them from the magic.

Then what are our options?

We stop them, which means breaking their limbs. All their limbs.
If Kye had been a real telepath rather than just a siphon, it might have been worthwhile trying to break the connection Jessica had with them. Granted, such an attempt would have been
hard,
considering how many of them there were, but it just might have been possible. But with Kye having no real expertise with telepathy, it wasn't worth the effort.

He didn't reply, simply launched himself at the nearest pack of walking dead men, hitting them feet first and scattered them like so much rotting meat.

Fingers grabbed at my bodice and I spun, grabbing the hand and shoving the zombie back as hard as I could. Then I ran and jumped, kicking one zombie in the head before dropping to the ground and, sweeping with a leg, knocking a second off his feet.

More of them came at me. I broke the fingers off
one, then jumped back, pulling him with me and throwing him sideways, into others.

An arm wrapped itself around my neck and the fetid breath of flesh long dead washed over me, making me gag. I tried to pry his fingers away, but his entire hand seemed to be covered with something that was thick and slimy, and it was impossible to get a grip. So I dropped to my knees and tried to flip him over my head. The body went over but the arm remained, and it was still squeezing, still making it harder and harder to breathe. I reached back, grabbed the limb, and forced it away from my neck. His flesh was rotting, covered with a putrid mix of goo that was flesh and body fluids and God knows what else.

I flung it away with a shiver, and wished I had something to wipe my neck with. I could still feel him, still feel his slime on my skin, and it was
horrible.

Two more grabbed at me. I punched one, smashing in the side of his face and sending him flying away from me. Then I pushed backward, as hard as I could, crushing the second zombie against the wall. There was a sharp crack of bone, but I didn't bother turning around to see what had broken. I simply finished the job, breaking his arms, then his legs. He dropped to the ground, but still tried to get to me, flopping around like a fish out of water.

Revulsion rolled through me, but I swiftly pushed it to one side as more of the stinkers came at me. I kicked and punched for all I was worth, breaking the limbs of some and shattering the backs of others. Bits of flesh
and bone flew, covering me and the floor in their stinky goo, until the stench made me want to throw up.

And the worst part was, all my fighting didn't seem to make a goddamn bit of difference. The bastards just kept coming at me.

I blew the sweaty strands of hair away from my forehead and cast a brief glance Kye's way. He didn't seem to be doing any better. There were three zombies flopping at his feet, but that still left another three, and those creatures seemed just as fast and just as strong as he was. Maybe they were simply fresher.

I jumped over the leap of a creature, then hit the ground and spun, knocking another on his rotten ass. I jumped on his leg, smashing his kneecap, then spun as another lashed out. Despite the speed with which I could move, I simply wasn't fast enough. The blow landed on the side of my head and sent me flying toward the wall.

Several of them hit me in the chest and drove me back against the wall. Fingers grabbed at my body, my throat, my hair, until all I could smell and all I could feel was the dead. A scream rolled up my throat but I clamped down on it, hard. The last thing I needed to do was alert anyone still inside the club that someone had gotten into one of their protected passages.

Although I'd probably done that the moment I'd destroyed the pentagram and table.

I raised my arms and smashed theirs away, then dropped to the ground and crawled, as fast as I could, between their legs and away.

Kye, I think, we need to get the hell away from this cavern and regroup.

He didn't answer immediately, punching several zombies away from him before saying,
I'm thinking that's a fucking good idea.

I flipped upright and spun, lashing out with a leg and knocking one charging zombie into another.
At least in the hallway they can't come at us from all angles.

And that would give
us
an advantage. Right now, there were just too many avenues for the things to keep jumping us. And though we'd reduced their numbers, the ones that remained were the least rotten, and the strongest. And they just wouldn't
stop.

I grabbed another arm and twisted it backward, hearing bone crack as I kicked out at the creature's kneecap. These things might be dead, but somewhere deep in their brainless skulls, a sense of self-preservation still survived, because it jumped backward, out of the way.

Make the charge,
Kye said,
I'm right with you.

Then I'm going.
I put my head down and ran. Right into a zombie, knocking him down hard, then leaping over him as I raced for the door. Kye appeared beside me, as covered in slime as I was, and reeking to high heaven. We neared the ramp, our steps lost in the pounding of the zombies coming after us.

At the top of the ramp, the shadows moved, and the scent of humanity—of a woman—washed over me. Jessica, not Hanna. Then I felt the burn of silver and heard the soft click of a safety being disengaged.

I slid to a stop. Kye did the same, barely missing running into my back. The zombies behind us crowded
close, providing a wall of flesh through which there'd be no easy escape. Not that there was anywhere to go behind them. Our only way out was the tunnel.
If we
could get past Jessica and whatever form of backup she'd brought with her.

She rolled out of the shadows, the gun held unwaveringly in her hands. There was a zombie at her back holding a second weapon.

“I underestimated you,” she said softly, her voice cool but still holding that edge I'd noticed earlier.

“I get that a lot,” I said, even as I added telepathically to Kye,
the weapons are loaded with silver.
“Tell me, Jessica, why are you killing the teenagers? It makes no sense, given Hanna has already paid them handsomely for their silence.”

“No monetary payment ever guarantees silence one hundred percent. If any of them had opened their damn mouths about how they got the money, Hanna's game was up.”

“But why would you even care? Why would you go to such lengths to protect a woman who's not exactly chummy with sanity?”

“Sane or not, she cared for me when no one else would, and for that I owe her loyalty.” She gave me a twisted half-smile that was part sadness, part acceptance. “Which means I get to clean up her mistakes and keep her safe.”

Then she pulled the trigger. I threw myself sideways, even as Kye hit me, making me lose my balance. He stumbled then went down, hard. There was blood
on his face, blood in his hair, blood on the ramp, and something inside me went numb.

For too many seconds, I couldn't react, couldn't think. I just stared at his unmoving form and thought
no, no, no.

Then movement caught my eye. The gun, aimed my way.

I twisted around and lunged for the weapon that had fallen from Kye's hand. I grabbed it and fired, all in one swift motion. Saw the woman jerk, then go limp, as the wound in her forehead began to leak blood and brain matter. I fired a second shot, shattering the wrist of the zombie holding the gun, tearing it clean from his arm.

I closed my eyes for a moment, releasing a deep, shaking breath. But the danger wasn't over yet, I realized as fingers began to dig into my flesh. I twisted around, wrenching myself free, then jumped upright and lunged forward at the rest, hitting them front on and sending them flying.

Then I turned and ran back to Kye, dropping to my knees beside him and feeling for his pulse. It was there, fast but strong, and some of the tension that had been twisting my insides relaxed a little. But only a little. The bullet had hit at an angle, smashing through his right shoulder before making a trench across the side of his head, and both wounds were bleeding profusely. If he didn't wake up, didn't change shape and stop the bleeding soon, he would die.

I pinched his earlobe as hard as I could, then said, “Kye, get up.”

A zombie lunged at me, I twisted around, sweeping
with my leg, knocking him off his, then pinched Kye's ear harder. “Damn it, wolf, wake up. You have to shift shape.”

He didn't respond, and the fear that had been partially mollified when I realized he was still alive began to rise again. I didn't care for this man, didn't want to get involved with him, but something deep within simply didn't want to see him die, either. But then, my wolf had a bad habit of latching onto—or rather, lusting after—totally unsuitable men.

I kicked away more attacking zombies, then jumped to my feet and grabbed Kye's armpits. Jessica had obviously given her creatures final orders before I'd killed her, and I couldn't concentrate on waking Kye with the zombies continuing to attack from all angles. I needed to at least restrict their options. So I hauled him upright and began to walk backward up the ramp.

And suddenly I realized that there was someone else in the room. Someone who was alive and who breathed, and whose scent was all too familiar.

Hanna.

I shifted my grip on Kye and twisted around, the gun in one hand and my finger on the trigger. But for the second time that night, I simply wasn't fast enough.

The bullet hit with the force of a hammer, tearing into my shoulder and smashing me sideways, away from Kye and into a wall.

Pain flared, red hot and burning, and I knew then that the bullet was silver.

Then that thought died and there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.