Blood Run (50 page)

It would be better to fight here, take a stand, than to try and lead them away. They wouldn’t follow him, they would find unerringly the trail of her scent, her humanness. He found that the thought made him agitated.

No, not agitated…angry.

He breathed deeply and let the anger sink into his mind. It was like lava, like liquid fire, and it raised the fever of vampirism in him. He would have to keep hold of it with both hands; Promise would be in mortal danger if he let himself slip too far into the disease. He breathed deeply again and then held the breath, listening.

A sneaky, sliding footstep, dragging through the undergrowth. Directly in front of him, on the other side of the stream. He couldn’t see it, but he sensed its presence. Then the vampire came out from behind a tree. Its clothes were wasted tatters, and its hair was long and twined with twigs and dirt. Peter could not tell if this had been a man or a woman. Its eyes were trained on the space behind Peter as it came across the stream, leaping nimbly from rock to rock. Twenty-five feet away. Twenty. Fifteen.

Peter stood, breaking cover, and the vampire’s mouth dropped open in immediate, hissing rage. It roared its surprise, and its eyes flicked compulsively from Peter to the tangle of roots that concealed Promise from sight but not from the vampire’s acute sense of smell. It hissed at Peter again and threw its head back to roar at the sky.

Then it charged.

It tried to angle past Peter, but he threw himself forward, tackling it around the legs. It tumbled backward, clawing at Peter’s head as it crashed onto the ground. It struggled in his grasp, and it seemed to have four legs, eight, as it twisted and slid frantically backward. It sat up and hissed in Peter’s face then swung its claws, catching him under the chin. His head was knocked back, and he lost his grip. The vampire was up in a flash and threw itself toward the tree, but Peter grabbed its ankles, tripping it up. Then he scrambled up, and in one fluid motion, he was on the vampire’s back. It snaked and babbled beneath him, but it was thin, much thinner than Peter, and it was already weakening. There was precious little blood to go around, and this one had obviously not fed in a while. Peter reached forward to grasp its head, but it snapped side to side, its neck seeming almost to detach as it snapped back over its own shoulders. Peter was horrified at the sight of it, the contortion, the very wrongness of this creature. There was no humanity left in it. It snapped and bucked a final time, and Peter was tossed to the side. The vampire scrambled forward, fast as a snake, and reached into the opening where Promise and Chance were hidden, burrowing down and in. Promise screamed, and rage galvanized Peter. He grabbed the vampire by its ankles and yanked, pulling it free of the roots, and flung it halfway back to the stream. It landed with a thump, its arm breaking on a rock, its head bouncing against the base of a tree. Its skull cracked open as easily as an egg, and still it struggled to return. Its eyes fixed again on the cave, and it began to drag itself forward with single-minded intensity. It snarled and snapped at its own trailing arm, gobbets of blood-flecked spittle springing from its mouth. Peter ran to it, Promise’s crossbow in his hands. He hesitated as it tried to stand, and a freshet of black blood poured from the crack in its head. It hissed at him in rage and swung toward him, its mouth open and teeth glowing.

Peter released the arrow.

The vampire crumbled in a heap.

Peter stumbled back to the cave, dazed and spent. Promise’s scent was so strong. He should just check on her. Just take a quick look to see if she was okay in there. Maybe just pull her out for a second and–

–Evans’ face swam into his mind…telling him to fight…fight it. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his stomach. He rocked until his heart had resumed a normal beat. Until his brain had stopped screaming at him like a kettle at full boil.

“Peter?” Promise’s voice, from the cave.

He blinked and sat up, sighing.

“Peter? Are you okay?” Her voice was teary, on the verge of panic.

“I’m fine. Stay down there, okay? Don’t…don’t come out here.”

There was a long pause, and his brain warred with itself, hoping she would stay down there…hoping she would come out.

Finally her voice drifted up. “Okay…”

He sat back on his haunches and ground the heels of his hands onto his eyes. They burned. He needed water. The cold water from the stream would help. He could dip his whole, burning head in it. He stood, turning.

Five more vampires were coming through the woods.

Peter grabbed the bow, but he’d never been trained on it, and he knew he’d be useless except at point-blank range. He looked from one vampire to the next, and as his frustration grew, so did his anger. The fire in his head flared alight again and burned from his brain even the reason why he fought. He forgot about Promise in the specific, but somehow kept his basic task in mind: protect the cave. At all costs.

The first vampire was upon him, and he struggled to hold it as it tried to batter past him. More ruthless now than he had been, Peter lifted it and slammed it down against the base of a tree, and then another vampire attacked him from behind. Thrown into a frenzy, it had lost track of its original desire: the scent of a human nearby. It gripped Peter around the neck, and he felt its teeth skimming across his back, looking for a hold, but his coat prevented it from getting a grip. He grabbed the arms tightening on his windpipe and flung himself forward, sending the vampire up and over to land on the first one. The first one had been struggling to its feet and was slammed back to the ground under the weight of the vampire Peter slung down onto it.

The vampires started fighting each other, biting and ripping, and Peter turned just in time to see a third vampire slipping past him toward the cave. He jumped without thought, hitting it at chest height, and they both tumbled to the forest floor, rolling even as the vampire clawed at Peter’s face, and he brought his fist around, cracking the vampire’s ribs. It howled and gripped Peter around the chest, and he was outraged to see the fourth vampire leaping across the stream. He struggled in the grip of the vampire beneath him and snapped three furious punches into its collapsing side, but still it did not let go. Peter hissed in rage, and the fourth vampire was past him. It threw itself full length onto the ground and hung, head first, in the opening to the cave. Peter screamed again. “Promise! Promise! Look out!” Tears that boiled partly away into steam as soon as they left his eyes burned in tracks down his cheeks. He heaved, getting a leg free and screamed again. “Promise!” He shifted and brought his knee up, ramming it into the vampire’s side. It screamed in pain and finally let go.

Peter rolled off it, toward the cave. The vampire there was buried half in and half out of the opening, and over the pounding rage in his head, he heard Promise screaming. The vampire had her. It was killing her. He bellowed and flung himself through the air and landed short of the vampires kicking legs as it slid head-first into the cave and disappeared from view.

“Promise!” Peter screamed again, but his voice broke, cracking as his throat gave out. He scrambled forward, but a sudden weight on his back stayed him. The fifth vampire. Peter rolled, kicking and bucking, and the fifth vampire, small but wiry and somewhat fresh, held on. It twined around him like a snake, hissing in his ear. Peter tried to yell for Promise again, but his vocal cords were frozen in pain, and then…rage rolled a red filter across his sight, seeming to coat everything in blood. He freed one hand and pressed it to the underside of the vampire’s chin. It twisted, snapping its teeth together, but Peter dug his hand in until his fingers gripped its jaw like a vise. He pushed up and back, and alarm flashed into the vampire’s eyes. Peter pushed, unrelenting, his arm shaking with the strain, until its head rested between its shoulder blades. It gibbered and choked, and Peter snapped his hand to the side, breaking its neck. It fell away, still hissing, but paralyzed.

Peter rolled and scrambled up, crawling toward the cave opening. The vampire–the fourth one–was backing out. No doubt with Promise in its hideous grip. Peter sobbed and grabbed at its ankles and yanked. “Promise,” he said, his voice a shredded whisper, breaking on the ‘o’ and dying hissingly over the ‘s’. Tears in his eyes boiled and steamed, making it hard to see. He swiped at his face and pulled the vampire free.

Chance came with it. He was covered in black, oily-looking blood. He had torn the vampire’s throat out to protect Promise. Peter grabbed Chance and lifted him to his feet. Chance hissed and swiped at him, and Peter pulled back sharply, as one would from a striking snake.

“Chance!” Promise dug herself up and out, the dirt falling in cascades around her. As she slipped free, the cave collapsed with a whump behind her, cascades of dirt and crumbled root filling in the hollow. She’d not be able to hide there again. “Chance! Fight it! Come back to me, Chance. Don’t let it take you over!”

Peter jumped up, grabbing the crossbow, and ran to where the first two vampires still struggled together. He notched an arrow and sighted on one’s back and pulled the trigger. It made a short ‘pft’ sound and buried itself in the vampire’s back. It rolled away, already dead, and the first vampire struggled to stand. Peter notched another arrow and released it, dispatching the last vampire.

Then he turned to where Promise stood before Chance. Her hands were out in a supplicating gesture, and she took a shaking step toward him. Peter wanted to cry out, to warn her, but his voice was gone. He ran back toward them.

Chance hissed and swiped at Promise’s outstretched hands. “Chance! Fight it, honey! Remember me? Remember your sister, Chance. Remember me!” she cried, nearly sobbing. “It’s me. I’m going to take you home now. Please, Chance. Please.”

She fell to her knees as Peter ran up behind him. “No, Peter!” she said. “Wait, just…wait. Please.” Her voice was desperate, pleading. He stopped, his eyes locked on hers. But he held the crossbow at the ready. She would hate him forever if he had to put an arrow through her brother’s heart, but he would take that consequence to save her life.

She shifted her gaze back to her snarling baby brother. Chance looked from Peter to Promise and hissed, stepping toward her.

She pitched her voice low, caressing, and spoke to him again. “Chance, do you remember the lake? Do you remember swimming in the summer, the seagulls, the other kids…Mom and Dad–” she paused, hitching in a breath that sounded like an indrawn sob. “–Mom and Dad sitting together, and Dad would always put zinc on all our noses, but he’d forget his own, remember? Then his nose would get bright red, and you would call him…you’d call him Rudolph…” She paused as Chance’s snarling subsided. Even covered in the other vampire’s blood, she could see the shift in his features from frightening to frightened. She nodded encouragement. “It’s me, Chance, it’s Destiny. Your sister. You’re just sick, honey. Like a fever but worse.” She lowered one hand to the ground next to her and unwound the vial and the needle. She kept it near her leg where Chance wouldn’t notice. “I’m going to make you all better, honey. You won’t be sick anymore, okay? I’m gonna fix it.” One handed, she plunged the needle into the rubber stopper at the top of the vial. How much? How much should she give him? Panic fluttered like razor-blade-winged butterflies in her stomach, and nausea bubbled up in her throat. She swallowed and waved him toward her. If he didn’t come out of it in a minute, then she’d have to give him the cure. No matter what. This was the last chance. “Come here, honey. Come to me. I want to help you…take you home.”

The fire in his eyes guttered as though a strong, fresh breeze blew through his mind. He stepped closer, and his hissing stopped. His mouth went slack, expressionless. Fear began to dawn in his eyes, and confusion. “Hhhhhhooommmme?” he whispered, and it was a grating sound, not quite human, not yet.

“Yes, baby,” Promise said. “Home. We’re going home.”

He tilted his head. “Maaaaaahhhhhmmmeeee…Daaaahhhhhddeeee…”

Promise began to cry in earnest, nodding her head, hating herself for what she was about to say. “Yes, honey, yes, Chance. Mommy and Daddy are at home. Waiting for us…to…to come in for dinner…we have to go in…before it’s…before it’s too late.”

Chance shook himself violently, whipping his head from side to side, and Promise cried out. Peter stepped closer, bringing up the crossbow, his finger on the trigger.

Chance looked at her again, and she saw his eyes were clear. His own again. Her baby brother. “Destiny?” he said, and Peter lowered the crossbow.

Promise nodded and held out both arms. She shifted to get closer to him, and the needle cracked under her knee; the cure leaked out into the black soil. But that was okay. She wouldn’t need it. Chance would be okay now. They would ride him out, and everything was going to be right again.

“Yes, it’s me, honey. It’s me.”

He took another step toward her and then turned abruptly, hissing. The light flared in his eyes, and he screamed; he howled in rage and fear.

Peter turned to follow Chance’s gaze.

The woods were full of vampires.

Chapter 9

Promise felt her years slip away, and all at once, she was little Destiny again; a small girl whose parents surrounded her with protective love and who did not yet have the much longed for baby brother. She watched through childhood’s eyes as a battalion of hissing, stinking, inhuman monsters converged upon them.

In the extremity of her fear, she wanted nothing more than to die.

Then Chance’s whimpers penetrated her consciousness, and she felt the weight of her years settle back onto her like a heavy, heavy mantel. She stood and took a step toward him, and he turned on her, hissing. He’d lost himself again as the fever of fear raged through him, exciting the disease.

“Peter!” Promise cried, and Peter turned to glance at her. His eyes skimmed over Chance, assessing. Unfeeling.

“He’s scared. He’ll stay by your side. I think,” Peter said, and a wire of tension ran through his voice. Promise didn’t know if he was telling her what he really thought or what he thought she needed to hear. “We have to get back to the horses. Try and ride out of here. We can’t fight all of them.”