Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) (40 page)

The sergeant started to waver, drifting backward. Anhalt quickly snatched the man's bloody wrist through the ladder.

“Sergeant!” he shouted.

The man blinked and grabbed iron. “Thank you, sir. Up you go.”

Both men climbed fifty feet, where they staggered onto a catwalk. As they made their way, Anhalt reloaded his revolver and handed it to the marine. The sound of the engines faded as they trudged forward; faint screams and gunshots still echoed.

Finally, they saw the base of the companionway to the bridge ahead.
Then they heard hissing. Behind them, two vampires started loping up the corridor. One raced along the deck while the other lifted onto the bulkheads and clawed forward like a charging leopard.

“Run!” Anhalt yelled.

He and the sergeant pounded down the steel corridor, their footfalls loud but unable to drown out the sound of the closing creatures. When they reached the companionway, the sergeant dragged himself up the steps to pound on the hatch.

“Open up! They're almost on us!”

Anhalt saw a speaking tube and shouted into it, “Open the hatch! Now! This is General Anhalt!”

He heard the scraping of a latch and turned to see the grinning vampires sweeping toward them. Hands reached down from the hatch, grabbing the sergeant and bringing him in. Anhalt started up as snarling faces and claws came at him, following him gracefully up the rungs. He stabbed down with his saber and kicked. Sharp pain lashed along his leg. Hands snatched his shoulders, and he was being lifted past the edge of the hatchway. He was tossed to the deck of the bridge.

Two airmen tried to shut the hatch, but a vampire shoved its way up, arms grasping for purchase on the deck. Growling and snapping. The marine sergeant rolled back to the hatchway and pointed Anhalt's revolver at the flailing vampire. He fired multiple shots into it. Anhalt slashed his saber against the thing's neck, and the head rolled loose onto the deck. The general kicked the twitching torso back through the hatch, and the heavy steel lid slammed shut.

“Well done, sir.” The marine extended the pistol by the barrel toward Anhalt. “And thanks for the use of your sidearm.”

“Quite welcome, Sergeant.” Anhalt slid his steaming saber into its scabbard.

“Good God!” Senator Clark exclaimed at the sight of the torn, bloody Anhalt. “You need to see the surgeon, but he's already dead. If this is light resistance, I'd hate to think what Greyfriar considers a full-on attack,” Clark snarled as he tugged on his spotless tunic. “We've already lost contact with the bomb deck and the engine room. We're dead in the air.”

Anhalt went to the fore windows. The sky was full of vampires, and many were crawling across the outside of the glass. The general gazed past them to the ground, which was growing nearer. There were no bombs falling now. Buckingham Palace stood largely unfazed.

He asked, “Any idea of casualties?”

Clark said, “What contact we've had with other decks report a slaughter. The dirigibles are damaged. I'm about to signal abandon ship. All hands will take to lifeboats.”

Anhalt turned over his shoulder. “They'll be cut to pieces in that melee out there.”

“Our lifeboats have some protection.” Clark threw up his hands. “What choice do we have? We're going down in enemy territory. Even if we managed to survive a crash, vampires don't take prisoners.”

Anhalt asked, “Can we maneuver at all?”

The young helmsman reported, “Slightly, sir. We have docking bursters. Limited fuel, good for a mile or two at most. So we can crash here, or we can crash a few miles south of London. Neither one sounds good.”

The sirdar stepped to the wheel. “I won't need much more than that.”

Clark paused from rolling up official papers in an oilskin bundle. “What are you talking about?”

“I came here on a mission,” Anhalt said, “and I intend to carry it out. I'm going to crash this ship into Buckingham Palace. Between the armed ordnance and the buoyancy gases and the engines, we should constitute a formidable bomb.”

“Are you insane?” The senator glared at the Equatorian. “You're talking about suicide.”

“Sacrifice, Senator. I believe this operation is our best chance to turn the war in our favor, to shorten it, and save the lives of many brave young men.”

The senator snapped, “You don't win wars by killing yourself.”

“Senator, sound abandon ship. Let everyone who can get off, do so.” Anhalt commanded calmly. His decision was made; his goal was something that could be accomplished. And if there was a chance that this action would mean safety for the empress, it was a small price to pay. “I'd like to borrow your ship, if I may.”

Captain Sandino stepped forward. “I'll stay with you, General, to fly the ship. If anyone is going to use
Bolivar
to kill vampires, it should be me. The rest of you, I want in the lifeboats. At least you'll have a chance to get home.”

“I'd like to stay with you, sir,” the young helmsman said in a clear voice.

“Count me in too,” the marine sergeant said from his bloody place propped against the bulkhead. “You'll need spotters so we can drop this thing right on top of them. And I won't survive a long trip in a lifeboat.”

Clark stared at Anhalt and shook his head. “I should've done this alone. You reek of failure. Always have.”

With a grim look on his face, the senator snatched open a small compartment on the wall and turned a handle inside. There was a slight hiss of steam, and a two-note alarm began to echo through the ship. The senator tucked the package of documents under his arm and climbed a short ladder to a hatch in the ceiling. “Anyone who would prefer to live to see victory, come with me.”

No one moved. Every officer, airman, and marine continued to study readouts, charts, and controls.

Clark snorted with sarcasm and lazily saluted Anhalt. “Sirdar, I'll give your regards to the empress. I'll tell her how you died needlessly. It's too bad you won't see my ultimate victory over the vampires.”

Anhalt replied icily. “I would sooner sacrifice myself here with these brave Americans than serve beside you for a single moment longer.”

“Damn you, sir.” With that, Clark disappeared up through the hatchway, which was soon closed and locked from above.

After a few minutes, lifeboats appeared in the sky around
Bolivar
. They were capsules, some fifty feet long, like miniature zeppelins. Their onboard motors pushed them at a pace that was too slow to outdistance the surrounding vampires, who began to congregate around the little ships, clambering over them, spinning them out of control. The helpless crafts began to fall one by one.

A larger lifeboat swept into view, emblazoned with a family crest. Senator Clark. His lumbering craft began to make its turn away from
the giant airship when a horde of vampires swarmed it too, crawling over its exterior, clawing and pounding the portholes. The senator's lifeboat was turned and tilted by the weight of the creatures. It rocked, and smoke boiled from its motors. It fought to keep its head, to maintain its way to freedom. But there was no hope for it. Just like all the other crafts in the air around it, the boat suddenly upended and plummeted. The vampires launched themselves safely into the air as the lifeboat spiraled sickeningly out of control, smashing into the distant Earth with a fiery bloom.

Anhalt stifled a sigh of despair. He could hear the distraught murmurs of the crew around him, stunned that their mythic commander had been brought down like a mere mortal. If he could die here, there was surely no hope for any of them.

The sirdar turned to the crew with the chaotic sky behind him. “Gentlemen, I want to thank you for your service to your nation as well as to humanity. What you do here today will leave the world better for your children. You will not be forgotten. It is my great honor to serve with you. Now, let's rain hell down on them.”

The captain and the young helmsman calmly returned to their duties and steered the crippled airship using short spurts from burster motors. Several men perched by the windows and directed the ship in its attempt to stay over Buckingham Palace and keep the wind from pushing them off target. The helm brought the ship tail-down to maximize the impact of the bombs along the belly, and lift the bridge as high above the blast as possible.

The sound of monsters slamming the underside of the entry hatch grew louder. The metal suddenly bent inward. Clawed fingers probed in through the gap between hatch and metal frame as the pounding continued. The metal buckled more with each strike.

Anhalt laid a hand on the hilt of his saber. “How long will that hatch hold, do you think?”

Captain Sandino shrugged. “No idea. Won't matter much in a few minutes.”

The airship vibrated madly, rattling as if bolts and rivets would pop across the bridge, or the bulkheads would crumple like paper. The
helmsman had both arms locked around the spokes of the wheel, and Captain Sandino braced himself against the wheel too, legs straining, teeth grinding, holding the ship on course against the numbing vibrations. They both recited the old Lord's Prayer. The marines and airmen at the window interlocked their elbows and clenched their eyes shut.

The hatch smashed open and rang off the bulkhead. Vampires crawled in, smiling and bloody. They stopped when they saw Anhalt standing with feet wide apart on the tilting deck, glowing saber in hand, staring at them.

One vampire said in English, “Welcome to London.”

“Empress Adele sends her regards,” General Anhalt replied evenly. Then he charged the creatures.

W
HAT WOULD
G
REYFRIAR
do?

Gareth had read all those penny dreadfuls. Greyfriar had been captured by the evil Cesare countless times and always escaped. Just when everything looked bleak and hopeless, when humanity was down to its last gasp, Greyfriar always triumphed. There was always some vampire weakness, some steam-powered gimmick, some experimental weapon. There had to be a way out. There had to be some last-minute heroics. Greyfriar always escaped and saved the day.

Always.

Gareth had nothing. No secret knowledge. No tricks. No rocket-powered bombs. He might not save the day. But he couldn't fail. Adele couldn't die. Gareth tried to struggle, but his body was a mass of excruciating pain. Cesare might be nearing Edinburgh by now. Adele wouldn't be expecting an attack. If Cesare managed to take her unaware, he could kill her. Gareth cried out and strained against his bonds again. The clank of chains mixed with the grating of the door bolt. Gareth looked up expectantly.

“Flay?” he breathed.

Baudoin appeared in the doorway with a confused smile, but eyes that showed horror at his master's plight. “Flay? I should hope not.”

Gareth breathed out through the agony. “Baudoin!”

The servant took several eager steps, then stopped, reeling from the power of the talisman hanging around Gareth's neck.

“She is in danger. Cesare is on his way to Edinburgh.”

“Then let's get you out of here.” Baudoin trudged forward despite the obvious pain. He reached for the crystal.

“You can't touch it,” Gareth warned.

“If I don't touch it—” Baudoin began, but his words turned to a shriek as his fist closed over the talisman. He tore it from Gareth's neck and flung it across the room before sinking to his knees with a whimper, clutching his sizzling hand. “—how will I save you?”

Gareth reached for the reeling Baudoin, but the chains held him back. He tested them again, but his heavy arms still couldn't tear metal free from stone.

Amazingly, Baudoin staggered to his feet. “That hurts.”

“Yes. Can you free me from these chains? I must get back to Edinburgh.”

The servant rolled his eyes and patted Gareth's chest with his good hand. “I'll be fine, my lord. Don't worry about me.” He walked with unsteady steps into the corridor and returned dragging a chair that he placed in front of Gareth. He climbed onto the seat, wavered for a second, and then reached up. His rough tunic rubbed across Gareth's face.

“Aren't there guards outside?” Gareth watched the servant's fingers fumble with the manacles.

“Not now.”

“Did you find keys?” The prince could see the pain etched on his man's face, but even so, Baudoin kept working.

“Not necessary. The manacles are just pinned. Fortunately, living with you has given me the dexterity of a human.” There was a metallic click, and Gareth's right hand dropped free. Baudoin started to work on the left wrist.

“Thank you, Baudoin. You are a marvel. This is just the sort of thing that always happens to the Greyfriar in books. When things look darkest, a miracle.”

Baudoin suddenly stiffened.

Gareth glanced up. “What's wrong?”

The servant's face lowered to look at his friend. His mouth twitched and opened slowly. His eyes narrowed with great sadness. With quivering lips, he murmured, “Gareth…my boy.”

“Baudoin!” Gareth reached with his free arm to support Baudoin as he began to drop. Behind the servant's slumping form, he saw Flay.

The war chief raised a bloody claw to her mouth. “How many others must die for you?”

“Just one more!” Gareth shouted, and grabbed for the murderous Flay. He felt a pull on his left arm as he tore the chain loose. He caught her by the coat, his wrist trailing the chain with a broken haft on the far end. He let Baudoin drop and seized Flay by the neck with his claws. He surged forward, tearing at her throat, lifting her off the floor.

Flay clawed at Gareth's face. She dug into his right forearm, trying to pry his sharp fingers from her bleeding neck. He slammed her full against the wall, and her breath flew out. Without pause, Gareth pulled her forward and smashed her into the stones again. And again. He pounded her abdomen with his fist and heard ribs crack under his knuckles.

Flay snapped at him with her teeth, latching onto the tendons at the base of his neck. She ripped, and his fingers loosened from her throat. She made to escape the close quarters, to bring her speed to bear.

Before she could slip away, Gareth pushed his right forearm against her gnashing mouth and she instinctively bit hard, tearing into his muscle. He dug his left claws into her ribs while pounding the back of her head like a piston against the wall. Her eyes rolled back and her attack slackened. Gareth drove his arm deeper into her mouth, stretching her bloody jaws wider.

Flay's eyelids flickered, and she started to refocus on him. Gareth pulled his arm free and gathered the chain in his scarred hands. The war chief started to bolt, but he looped the heavy links around her neck and pulled tight. Flay gasped and frantically grabbed for the chain. Even in his battered state, she couldn't match Gareth's fury. She turned her claws on him, tearing his face and throat. He felt the blows, but ignored them, pulling the unyielding steel chain ever tighter.

Flay's desperation turned to panic. Her eyes locked on Gareth's in a second of unfamiliar fear. She gasped, “Gareth…we…”

“There is no
we
.” He strengthened his death grip on her.

Flay sank her claws into his forearms, raking flesh and tearing muscle. She dug so frantically, several claws snapped off. Gareth stared beyond her, listening to the sounds of her dying struggle. He thought of Baudoin. He thought of what Flay would do to Adele if given the chance. He pulled the chain ever tighter.

Then he heard Flay's heart flutter with its final weak beats. And it stopped.

Her form went slack, and Gareth let it drop to the floor. He watched the chain links slide over Flay's lifeless throat and follow him as he stepped back. He scrambled to Baudoin.

“I'm so sorry, my friend.” Gareth placed his hand briefly against the cold cheek of his beloved mentor. “Thank you for everything.”

Gareth straightened and then lurched for the door. He scrambled up the stairs toward open air. Vampire figures raced past him. He paused, ready to fight, but they ignored him and took to the sky.

Gareth vaulted out of a window. He caught a rough updraft and soared quickly. Wheeling above the palace courtyard, he saw the colossus of Ramses, or Dmitri, on the ground.

In the blue sky above London, Gareth noted a vast metal airship, unlike the sailing ships he was familiar with. The weird oblong behemoth belched smoke. Vampires rose to meet it with their usual vicious abandon. Already the gleaming, sloping hull was crawling with black figures. Even without the rendezvous, General Anhalt was attacking. Or at least attempting to.

Gareth moved toward the airship on an instinct to fight alongside the Equatorians. But no. The thought of Adele and Cesare came back to him with a horrific shock. There was nothing he could do for the humans, and he knew Anhalt would understand. One more against the thousands would make no difference now. He put the ship and its men from his mind and set his face northward with terrifying urgency.

Adele woke.

She felt the soft bed beneath her and listened to the remorseless wind
whistling around the empty castle. Everyone was gone. Her Harmattan, save a couple of bodyguards, and even Morgana had gone north with Hariri on
Edinburgh
. She took a deep breath and shifted her leg slightly, feeling the weight of Pet sprawled at her knee. His careless snores comforted her. The cat hadn't been awakened by anything unusual.

Then why was she awake?

Adele cast her eyes about without moving her head, and lay listening for anything out of the ordinary. The peat hissed from the hearth, casting a soft glow. Nothing moved.

Just as she was about to sink back into the pillow, something hard fell on her face. She instinctively tried to turn away, but her head was locked in place. Pet leapt up with alarm and bolted from the bed. She felt a pressure on her chest, and she took a sharp breath.

Immediately her head was filled with a soft, sweet smell. She cursed herself, and she now felt the prickle of herbs pressed against her mouth and nose. Her vision began to cloud. She grasped the hand on her face, but it was too strong.

“Don't fight,” came a command in a familiar voice. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Adele's gaze shifted, and in the shadows she saw the face of Mamoru hovering over her. He was drawn and thin, unshaven, a bit wild. She went for her dagger that lay on the bed next to her.

Mamoru swiftly seized the weapon and slid it into his belt. “No, no. You won't need that.”

Adele tried to claw at his eyes, but now her arm fell limp on the mattress and the fingers that clutched his hand slid down to her chest.

Mamoru pressed the sweet herbs tighter to her face. “Breathe deeply, Adele.”

The empress struggled to hold her breath. She felt like a thrashing fish on a pier, trying to fight, but her eyes told her that she was motionless. Helpless. The cloying stench was already seeping deep into her, slowing the flow of blood from her heart far into her limbs.

“There.” The samurai smiled with gentle relief and pried her eyelids wide to examine. He removed his hand from her face and then proceeded to brush the stems and leaves away like a worried mother cleaning a
dirty child. “As always, you are amazing. There is no one on Earth who should have heard me approach. But you did.”

Adele watched him throw back the bedclothes and felt him reach under her neck and knees. He lifted her off the bed. He looked down into her face with kindness.

“Come, Adele,” Mamoru said. “Let me help you one last time.”

She could do nothing as her old mentor carried her out into the night, past the bodies of her murdered guards.