Blackthorne (The Brotherhood of the Gate Book 1) (17 page)

Kim gave a short bark of laughter. “What I think I’m hallucinating is too little to be a Bigfoot. What did those freaks put in the pot?”

Cathy’s eyes adjusted until she could focus on what Kim was looking at so intently. She gasped and managed a shrill squeak as the demon closed in and swung its hands at both women. Both headless bodies thudded to the ground with a wet crunch of snow. One of the heads, trailing long blonde hair, rolled directly into the larger group near the fire. The snowmobiler closest to the head leaned down to examine what had been thrown at him. The sightless fluttering eyes and the scarlet stain in the snow told him too much and he leaped to his feet to swirl around. He was met with a nightscape of glowing eyes surrounding them all, moving inward as the yells and screams filled the empty cold air. From a distance, if there had been anyone around to look, the bonfire grew to monstrous proportions and the calls for mercy rang out unheeded in the night.

∙
•
∙

Behind the chaos in a quiet pocket of snow, the man in the coat hunkered down over the first headless body. He gently pulled it upright and buried his face in the fountain that spurted from the girl’s headless torso, gulping at the fresh blood hungrily. His body moved rhythmically against the girl’s until he was filled and he groaned with his release. Manius stood to rip his clothes from his body and stand naked in the snow. The beautiful features his older brother had pummeled earlier were now a mask of blood, and his eyes emitted visible red sparks as he joyously bounded with a howl of glee into the now visible maelstrom of feeding demons to join them.

Troy stood apart from the madness, a dispassionate observer, waiting for Manius to deplete his unspent fury. He held a change of clothes for his master and a garbage bag for the soiled ones. The cloud of fear from the victims of the feast would reenergize Manius and engorge his demons with a staggering amount of power. The cleanup would usually have been a pain in the ass, but Manius had recently acquired a servant capable of reducing the entire clearing to ash in seconds. As the figure of the fallen knight made his way back to his servant, washing the blood off his body with snow, a blanket of darkness blotted out the dim night sky over the clearing, and Troy knew the biggest monster of all had arrived.

»»•««

Dan could see the figure of Nate bobbing in front of him on the trail. The idiot was going faster than Dan would ever dare on this terrain, probably eighty miles an hour at least. He tried not to let it bother him that the other two racers were hot on his heels, one behind the other, only inches apart. Then something flew out of one of the trees they were approaching and smashed into the windshield of his snowmobile. As Dan fought for control, the thing on his windshield, amazingly alive, crawled up over the shattered safety glass and attached itself to his head, ripping off his goggles with one sweep of a claw. His machine plowed to an impossible stop, forcing the other two racers to slam into him at top speed. For Dan, there was the adrenaline of speed and the race, and then there was the darkness that drew him down from the world of the living into another realm.

∙
•
∙

Two miles away, Nate hit a good long stretch with his sled, the skis meeting with little resistance as he ran flat out, leaving his pursuers behind. He let out a laugh at the thought of the look on Dan’s face upon being whipped by a mountain “redneck” and put on another burst of speed before coming to the open space in the forest at the turn around point. He noticed a problem immediately when he came around because there were no lights behind him. Dan’s sled was slower, but not
that
slow. “Shit, that moron has probably taken himself and everyone else out,” he said aloud and kicked off back into the woods with a grim look on his normally relaxed features. A wreck could be a nasty thing at almost eighty miles an hour, skidding over snow with nothing to protect the body but coveralls, which could be shredded into coleslaw by the snow, as could the skin. He slowed and began to look for the others. He hadn’t noticed losing the other racers—he’d been too intent on victory. They’d been gone for a good distance. Of course he’d heard nothing, the wind had been too loud screaming past his head.

He finally came upon the wreck, and the sight brought him to a complete stop. The three snowmobiles of his pursuers were piled up on top of each other as if one had stopped so suddenly, the others didn’t have time to react and bowled over each other. The bodies of the men were scattered throughout the embankments on either side of the trail. Nate sat on his sled for a moment, waiting for one of the dumb-asses to get up and walk over to him looking sheepish, but nobody moved. The metallic scent of blood hit his nostrils as he got off the Polaris and made his way to the first body lying in the light of his lamps. Removing a glove, he reached down to check for a pulse and felt a warm, wet substance touch his hand. He hesitated and then carefully rolled his adversary over in the snow to examine Dan’s face. But there was no face, just a mask of blood that looked as if something had chewed on the imperious features of Dan Brown.

“Holy shit.” Nate fell back in the snow and began to crawl toward his snowmobile, idling five feet away. Then he saw the eyes in the inky darkness that stretched between the evergreens. First one pair of red and puss yellow glowing orbs. Then the same eyes multiplied over and over. It seemed that there were hundreds of eyes with the black space in between periodically punctured by darts of flame. He scrambled aboard the machine and whipped forward, managing to run several of the owners of the eyes down as he barreled his way through back to the bonfire. His gloveless hand was frozen on the handlebar as his stomach tried to convince him that he needed to retch. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” he whispered fervently, a rare prayer on his part.

It seemed to him to be days before he got back to the fire, but it was seconds. A landscape of carnage greeted him. The bodies of his friends were lying scattered like the spokes of a wheel around the fire with
things
bent over them, looking as if…they were eating their prey. At least, what was left of their prey. They seemed to be finishing up.

An impossible beast shrieked with the strength of a hurricane and almost burst Nate’s eardrums. A silent shadow the size of an F-16 passed within several feet of his head. He didn’t bother to stop and, ignoring the possible damage to his beloved machine, he jumped it onto the ice-covered road to head for the hills as if the hounds of hell were lapping at the tread marks he left behind. A few minutes down the road he heard a series of thunderclap explosions out of the area he had fled, but he dared not go back, and poured on the juice before the owners of those red eyes caught up with him and punished him for what he had lived to tell.

»»•««

“I saw blood,” she said aloud when she finally came to. With an effort, she kept her eyes tightly shut where she lay. “And fire and death. People are dying in town tonight.”

“I know,” replied Blackthorne’s voice. Weariness colored his words.

“Then why are you here and not stopping him?”

“Because it isn’t time. I’m not ready and he could possibly destroy me if I go after him alone. Some other members of the Brotherhood will leave their responsibilities when it is time to fight at my side as they did before but not until it is time. They have as much or more to guard than I do.” A chair creaked somewhere, an antique straining under the weight of a warrior.

A field of white lace met her eyes when she finally opened them. The lace was an old-fashioned canopy that hung over the bed she was lying on in what was apparently one of Pearl’s guestrooms. Who visited an ancient madam and slept in the same house as her? Alice Cooper?

She took a deep breath and was assaulted by the scent of
him.
Couldn’t he let her pass out in peace? Had he done something to her while she was unconscious? Panicked, she grabbed at her throat and body. No bites, clothes still on, shoes and coat missing.
A turtleneck is a great thing.

“No, I didn’t bite you or molest you while you were out.” The sardonic tone of his voice had an edge to it.

She slowly sat up and turned to face him where he sat in a chair, his long legs stretched out and propped up on the edge of the bed, his sock feet crossed. He had cleaned the evidence of his earlier fight off his face, leaving no visible cuts or bruises.
He’s a vampire. They’re supposed to heal fast.
“Vampires aren’t supposed to take their shoes off.” She made the statement numbly, looking around for his boots. It made her uncomfortable that he could be so homey around her. As if they were
married
or something. And if he could take off his shoes…would he take off anything else she asked him to?
I truly need to get laid if I’m desperate enough to want this guy. Pam’s right, it’s rusted shut and wants out again.

He put a hand over his mouth as if hiding a grin. He couldn’t hear her thoughts could he? Of course not, that was silly.

“Oh really? Who made that rule up? It doesn’t matter because I’m not a vampire…I’m a Changeling. I have to drink human blood, a lot of it, before I become a true vampire and can…no longer take my shoes off in your presence.”

“Where are
my
shoes?”

“On the floor.”

She rolled off the other side of the bed to snatch up her boots, sat in a nearby chair to strap them back on, and stood. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Enjoy what?” Blackthorne hadn’t moved from his spot, but his eyes followed her every move. He could overpower her any time he wanted to and they both knew it.

“Freaking me out with that damned picture?”

“I usually avoid that hallway myself when I’m in town and use the kitchen door. I thought it might be enlightening for you to see it. And Pearl refuses to take it down. She always liked you, you see.”

“And you don’t? At least not anymore?”

He was silent for a moment and then rose to tower above her. Rhi was face to face with his chest. She caught herself wondering for a split second what it looked like without the sweater before clenching her hand so tightly her nails cut into her palm.

He made a choking noise and once again put his hand over his mouth. “Pearl’s waiting downstairs with your friends. If we can get Pam to shut up for two minutes, your questions might get answered.”

“Good luck with that, bubba. If you duct taped that woman’s mouth shut, her tongue would still be flapping so much it’d beat her brains out.” Rhi got up and stalked to the door to pull at the antique Victorian glass doorknob. Locked. “God, does anybody decorate by going to Home Depot in this place?”

Blackthorne flicked his hand at the door. It swung open silently.

“Showoff.”

Rhi and her escort arrived in the kitchen moments later where Houston sat easily at the kitchen table observing Pearl as she assembled snacks and drinks on a silver tray. Pam perched on the counter, chattering as if she was at Rhi’s house for a night of fattening snacks and movies instead of having been abducted by mythical, magical beings.

“Oh, my God. Rhi…how does it feel to be walking proof of reincarnation?” she asked, swinging her legs to and fro.

“What? No ‘How are you Rhi?’ or ‘Been drained of all of your blood lately, Rhi?’” She was getting a bit annoyed that she’d been left alone with a
vampire.
A vampire who at that moment was standing behind her with his hand on the small of her back as if it belonged there.
Then again, after seeing that portrait, maybe his hand does belong there.
She shrugged away from him to conceal the huge goose bumps his touch raised on her neck.

Houston looked apologetic. “He wouldn’t let us near you. And not to sound like a chicken shit, but I was a bit intimidated. Does he have his
shoes
off?”

“See, I told you.” Rhi crowed triumphantly.

Pearl interrupted what was about to become a full discussion of the “rules” of being an immortal. “To the den, boys and girls. I can never keep this room warm enough and I’ve had it remodeled fifteen times.”

“Try Home Depot,” Blackthorne said and gave Rhi a little smirk as he stepped around her.

Somehow I can’t see Pearl talking to a guy in an orange apron about bath fixtures and proper installation of garage door openers.

“Pearl DeVere. She’s always been my hero…you know she once
owned
the soul of every man in this town,” Pam informed Rhi excitedly as she hopped down from her perch.

“Men are easily led around by the nose, darling, but it works better if you have a hold of something more substantial.” Pearl sniffed as she seated her guests in a surprisingly modern looking den. The room was outfitted with wall-to-wall shelves filled to bursting with leather bound books. It was a room for a bibliophile to die happy in, redolent of clean burning wood fires and rich leather. The hostess left to fetch what she jokingly referred to as “immortal caffeine” while the rest of the group seated themselves in front of the warmth of the fireplace to pepper Blackthorne with questions.

“So, how old are you, Blackthorne? Don’t you think you’re robbing the cradle a little?” Pam asked, obviously referring to the man’s close proximity to Rhi.

The smaller dealer sat nervously near the much larger “being,” as she now liked to think of him in her mind, on Pearl’s designer couch. She tried not to slide involuntarily down the leather cushion toward him.

Her captor didn’t look at Rhi as he answered her friend. “I’m over 800 years old. And Rhi’s older than you or she thinks she is.”

Rhi rolled her head back on the couch and moaned. “Great. I’m already facing the trip downhill toward my thirties and you tell me I’m older than I think? This day sucks.” She looked pointedly at Blackthorne’s mouth off to the side of her, the extra pointy teeth tucked safely out of sight. “Forget that last statement…okay?”

Pam sprawled in a nearby armchair. She looked like she was at a fraternity kegger. Her bright gaze greedily took in the room, especially Blackthorne. “So if you aren’t going to eat us, can we continue our discussion? And by the way, I’d find all of this a lot more believable plus amusing if you could perform a parlor trick or something. Could you manage to float, maybe?”