The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (28 page)

This was the type of fight that had made him famous. Flying wildly
into enemy territory on the wrong side of the odds, trusting to surprise
and boldness and his innate invulnerability. But this was not the type of
situation Clark wanted. He only had intelligence from scouts he didn't
know or trust. And his goal this time was not his usual favorite of
slaughtering the enemy's population or crippling their ability to fight,
but to seize a target and escape.

Major Stoddard appeared at Clark's side. He saluted to confirm that
shroud canisters had been loaded in the deck carronades. The major's
eyes betrayed uncertainty.

Clark nodded confidently and fingered the brass-and-leather gas mask
hanging around his neck. It was designed to allow humans to operate normally inside the dark pall of the shroud gas cloud. While the gas wasn't
poisonous, it was harsh on human lungs. The goggles were designed with
a special gas layer so vampires appeared in the black smoke as a blue aura,
whereas humans appeared red. This operation in a well-defined space
suited the deployment of shroud gas, however, and Clark had ordered the
cannons loaded with the canisters to fire into the Tower precinct.

Major Stoddard's voice was barely a whisper, but he felt the risk of
speaking aloud was warranted. He had to make Clark see reason on this
matter. "Sir, shroud gas is a dangerous gamble with Princess Adele in
the target zone."

Clark's gaze stayed focused on the barest glimpses of the ground he
could see through the mist, but his mouth grimaced tightly. "Thanks to
that Jap schoolteacher's map we supposedly know exactly where Adele
is. She's on a high floor of the central tower. The gas should hang low.
The princess will be fine until I get to her, which should be quickly."
The senator touched a second gas mask, hanging from his belt, that he
had brought for Adele.

He then pinned a scathing glare at Stoddard. "Now get back on the
line, Major. You worry like my grandmother, and she annoyed the hell
out of me. And if you break operational silence again, I'll see you
drummed out of the service."

Stoddard stiffened, his lips pursed. He saluted sharply and returned
to his squad at the far rail.

Meanwhile, Captain Root huddled with the ship's officers studying
an old map of London by the pale light of the binnacle. The frigate had
slipped out of the clouds briefly to take bearings and had then drawn
back above cover. The captain glanced at his gold pocket watch and
motioned to the senator that he had five minutes before the suicide drop
into the Tower grounds.

Clark passed the word by hand signals to the ghostly grey Rangers
in the mist. Gas masks were quickly fixed in place down the ranks of soldiers. At least the chief meteorologist had been accurate on the front
again. They had patrolled off the coast for two days waiting for prime
assault weather. And now the morning air was warm and wet. Fog was
settling in at just the hour he had predicted. The shroud gas would hang
for a long while. The commandos should be able to drop, retrieve the
princess, and escape under cover.

If this gamble succeeded, and Clark was confident it would, he
would become the unquestioned leader of the American-Equatorian
alliance. His name would go on top of a short list of men who had
changed the destiny of civilization.

Clark smiled.

The warship's gasbags vented with a roar, and Ranger plummeted.
Hearts leapt into throats and hands tightened on weapons and drop
lines. The fog thinned, and grey stone buildings appeared perilously
close to the airship's hull. Sails luffed and more gas jetted. Ranger went
hard over to starboard. The grimy Thames rose into view above the rail.

There was the Tower of London. Clark instantly noted the structure
where Princess Adele was supposedly held. He was committed to the
intelligence, but he still doubted the Japanese schoolmaster. If Adele
was not in the right place, this drop would go very bad very fast.

Ranger righted and nearly scraped the Tower's crenellated outer wall as it inched over the courtyard. Cannons along both sides fired with low
thuds, sending canisters spiraling downward. The large cartridges
exploded almost noiselessly, and a greasy black smoke began to roll out
along the ground, winding around rubble and sliding along walls. The
ship's fore and aft anchor guns whoomed and sent heavy spiked grapnels
slamming into ancient stone walls. The frigate jolted to a dead stop.

"Go!" Clark shouted, with his booted feet already on the mahogany
rail. The whining of drop pulleys screamed through the heavy, moist air
as American commandos with robotic faces plummeted to the occupied
British soil.

Senator Clark hit the ground, unbuckled and armed as he ran with
tramping feet following him. There was no sign of vampires yet beyond distant blue figures bobbing lazily in the misty sky. Clark signaled one squad
of red shapes to follow while the other held the base of the tower. Troopers
swept through the doorway, hit the stone stairs, and curved upward.

Now above the shroud gas, Clark smelled coal smoke. Good. Fire
was a sign of captives. Maybe the schoolmaster was right after all. In
which case, Clark would have to dig into Mamoru's intelligence network. It would not do to have such resources outside his control.

The senator reached the top of the narrow staircase and kicked open
the heavy plank door. He pulled down his gas mask. A dark, slender
shape stood in the corner.

Clark struck a pose and grinned. "My dear, I am your husband.
Pleased to meet you!"

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else," came the oily sibilant reply. A female vampire inched from the shadows. Other creatures
came forward. "Your lovely has fled-"

Her words were drowned out by a barrage of gunfire as the senator
leapt out of the room.

"Withdraw!" Clark yelled-unnecessarily, since his men were
already shoving their way down the stairs with sharp shouts and cursing.

Gunfire came from outside too. It was a trap.

As he ran, the senator reached into his ammo pouch and drew out a
metal egg shape-a shrieker. He fumbled with his finger and popped a
ring away from the shiny surface. He pulled out a long, thin strip, launching the egg into a piercing scream. Clark dropped it on the steps
and reached for a second one.

Several commandos did likewise, and soon the close air of the Tower
was electric with an ear-aching whine. It was uncomfortable to the men,
but it was painful and disorienting for vampires. The female and her
cohorts paused in their pursuit, confused and confounded by the sounds,
their heads twisting in pain.

The little devices were already winding down as Clark bounded
from the Tower. The wreckage-strewn courtyard was chaotic with vampires dropping from above, striking and tearing at the soldiers. His men
tossed more shriekers. Part of a squad had formed a square, firing up and
out. Others ran for position, shooting and flailing with bayonets. The
popping of marksmen's guns came from Ranger overhead.

Cooling bodies of men were visible all around.

"Withdraw in order!" Clark shouted hoarsely through the smoke.

A high-pitched metallic scream began to pour from Ranger.
Crewmen were wrestling the handles of massive shriekers bolted on the
deck, slowly at first, but then turning them in a rhythm. As the screams
grew, vampires whirled in the air as if hit by a concussion.

Major Stoddard was struggling to maintain his ragged square as his
squad shuffled in some order toward the tangle of drop lines. Guns fired.
Green gunsmoke blended with the heavy black. Clark shouted orders
from inside the formation. Shapes flashed past. Claws raked. Bayonets
flashed. Men fell.

Clark reached through the shroud gas cloud and found a drop line. He
slung his carbine and clipped the pulley onto his belt. When he tugged
the cable, he was instantly yanked off the ground. Other troopers around
him flew up, trailing black mist. Even with the shriekers, vampires
slipped past, banging into him, hissing and raking with their hands. He
pulled his pistol and fired at the fluttering things around him.

Strong hands lifted the senator over the rail back onto the deck of
Ranger. He gagged from the shroud gas, and his ears throbbed as he
watched the ship's surgeon asking him a question and reaching out for
him. He shoved the doctor aside and resumed firing.

Bloodied commandos flowed over the gunwales, assisted by airmen. Many fell to the deck unable to move, staining the wood red. Major
Stoddard struggled back on board and gave a cast-off sign. Every soldier
who could return had returned.

Clark felt sick, but signaled to make way. Mooring lines were cut.
Gas vents rumbled under the knife-edge squeal of the shriekers. The airship shot straight up. The senator's knees almost buckled from the jolt,
but he kept his eyes locked on the female vampire on the roof of a tower
below. She waved jauntily with one hand, but with the other she
clutched the twisting body of one of his men.

Ranger climbed above the clouds, where the unfurling sails bit the
wind. The ship bucked and raced for the open sky. There was halfhearted
pursuit, but vampires could not match the frigate's sleek pace.

Major Stoddard came to Clark, who stared out into the orange
clouds with a revolver dangling from his hand. "Sir, you should go
below with the surgeon."

"How many did I lose?"

"Not sure yet. I'd reckon fifty."

"Fifty!" Clark glared at his trusted junior officer. "Out of two hundred! Impossible, Major. How many vampires attacked us?"

Stoddard replied, "It wasn't many, sir. I didn't count more than
twenty or thirty. But they were good. If we hadn't had shroud cover,
we'd have lost more."

"Dammit!" The senator spat in disgust, but nodded in agreement.
"This didn't happen, Major. I do not intend to return to Equatoria until
I make this not happen."

"Do you think Her Highness's mentor misled you?"

"I don't know. I think the princess was there, and recently. That
room was set up for a human prisoner."

Major Stoddard buckled against the railing and repeated in a
strained voice, "Sir, you should see the doctor. Let him check you out.
You could've been injured."

Clark wiped gloved hands over his spotless tunic and laughed. Then
he noticed Stoddard wavering on his feet. The major's tunic was
shredded across the midsection. Bloodstains covered his chest and
trousers. Deep incisions laid open the flesh of his stomach.

"Doctor!" Clark snapped. "Lend a hand to Major Stoddard here. Slap
a bandage on that. We've got work to do."

Pain was the only sensation available to Adele. Her world was black. She
couldn't be sure if she was awake. Dust clogged her nostrils and caused
a coughing fit that made her body ache all over. She shoved a hand out
to right herself. It slipped on something round and smooth and wet. Stifling a groan, she pushed it aside and sat up in a couple of inches of
water. Her limbs were still attached and not broken thankfully, though
they all throbbed fiercely.

Looking up, she tried to determine how far she had fallen, but only
the barest of shadows showed above her. Her hands fumbled and grasped
rotten wood that disintegrated into near pulp in her fingers: the remains
of stairs, decayed with the passing of time, that had fallen with her,
coating her clothes. She was lucky she hadn't broken her neck.

Hands flung out again, searching for her halberd, scattering both ballshaped and long, thin objects, but finally Adele found what she sought. A
small gasp escaped her as her finger pressed too hard on the blade's edge,
causing a small slice into her flesh. She drew back immediately and stuck
the finger in her mouth till the dirt made her gag. She was about to wipe
the blood on her skirt when she paused. Vampires smell blood, even as
little as this. Smearing some on her clothes was folly. She ripped a bit of
her undergarment and used the small piece to wrap her finger. She could
discard the scrap once the bleeding had stopped.