Bloodfire (Empire of Fangs) (14 page)

26.

Twig lit up his last smoke and sat on a rock with the crossbow in his lap.
 
He had covered the truck with branches and leaves and dirt, hiding it well from suspicious eyes.
 
The truck was a few feet from the canyon ledge, as close as Twig wanted to get.
 
In the infinite mess under the seat that the previous owner had left, he found a suitable rag, and a small bottle of lighter fluid he used to soak the rag.
 
He found a rock for the gas pedal and placed it on the driver’s seat.

He went over the steps
: start truck.
 
Set rag on fire.
 
Drop rock.
 
Pray
.
 
It seemed easy enough, but he knew how important it was he got those steps right.
 

The smoke was making its way into the area, and he could see from his vantage point fire in the distant hills, chewing its way towards him.
 
Zara hadn’t mentioned how they would get out of here if, and it was a big if, any of this worked.
 
He assumed they would run like hell in the opposite direction of the fire.
 

He looked down into the canyon, down the smooth red rock at the flat cul-de-sac of dirt.
 
It was a good hundred feet down, and after looking at it, he went back and pulled the rag out a little further from the gas tank.
 
He couldn’t have the truck exploding prematurely; everything had to be just right.
 

Zara said it would probably take her no more than twenty minutes to get to Clay’s End.
 
She kept saying she had an ace up her sleeve, but that was all she would tell Twig.
 
It annoyed the hell out him that she was playing games now, when their lives hung so critically in the balance.
 

He loaded the crossbow and shot a nearby tree a few times.
 
It was fairly easy, but then again trees made easy targets.

He was tired couldn’t shake the idea that his father was in trouble somewhere.
 
But there was something else bothering him too.
 
As quickly as Zara had become close to her so had he felt a sudden distancing begin.
 
The way she had snapped at him in the hotel had put him on an edge he could not seem to get away from.
 
Something in the ways her eyes had become so…cold.
 

He wanted to be with her.
 
To make things right and live their lives together as normally as they could given the circumstances.
 
But when he tried to picture this sweet future all he could see was himself, alone, chasing after her down a long dark road that led to hell itself.
 

He took another drag and squinted, letting an arrow fly.

27.

At the top of the steep hill, Zara looked down at Drake’s mob down in the valley, shouting and clamoring up after her with the blaze at their heels.
 
From her vantage point she could make out some of the dark roofs in town, and the colorful roof of the Alistair, already engulfed in flames.
 
She resumed her sprint through the forest, hopping up and over fallen logs and branches with agility.

She arrived at the mouth of Viper Canyon, where an old-fashioned sign pointed would-be tourists towards the town’s only attraction.
 
There was no sight of Sam.

She walked now, briskly, holding the machete tightly in her hand, into the tight corridor of the canyon.
 
The path snaked and wound and there were a few places where kids had drawn crude graffiti on its walls.
 

Zara ignored the artwork and moved briskly until she rounded a final corner and entered into a large area the size of roller rink.
 
This must have been where Clay met his end, here among these inescapable sheer walls.
 
Clay
Sollero
had foolishly underestimated his wily opponent that day—a mistake Zara did not intend to make.
 

She suddenly had the nauseating notion that Sam was working with the
Casparis
, that he had only led her here so that she would be easily destroyed.
 
She shut the thought out, there was no turning back now, Drake wasn’t far behind.
 
It was this or nothing.
 
She just hoped Twig was ready.

Zara moved to the far end of the arena and leaned flat against the smooth wall.
 
She crouched beside a rock and looked up at the canyon ridges.
 
She shouted up to Twig and in a moment she saw him standing on the edge waving a flashlight.

The light went out and Zara waited.
 
The wind was howling now, and the smoke was now drifting down from above in silky curves, curling over the lip of the canyon, rolling down toward her.
   

28.

“Stay close,” Abby said to the club kids, who followed her deeper into the canyon, single-file.
 
The fire was making them nervous, and if Abby didn’t get to Zara quick, these cretins might start deserting.
 
For this reason she had made a point of remembering each of their worried faces.

Why Drake, at the last minute, gave her command of these peasants was beyond her sense of reason.
 
He told her to lead them in while he climbed to the ridge.
 
A strange look had crept across his face.
 
Maybe he knew it was a trap and was using Abby and his recently acquired soldiers as bait.
 
He told her to keep Zara’s father out front, just in case.

Abby knew the ghost was clever.
 
He would
have
to be to have survived so many years.
 
But Zara and her little hipster boy toy?
 
She didn’t see the need for so much force.
 
She tried to remember anything good about her wilted friendship with Zara, but couldn’t summon a single memory worth revisiting.
 
No matter what they were now, she would always see Zara as her lesser.

She pushed Mark forward, who coughed violently. “You were always such a little—”
 
He began to say but Abby dug a nail into his side and he whimpered.

“No talking,” she said icily.
 

The smoke was now pouring down into the canyon and filling it like a mist.
 
Either way he was going to be dead soon, she thought.
 
She yelled back at the lagging club kids, who were now very nervous indeed.
 
She reminded them that Damon would hear an honest account of everything that happened here once the dust had settled.
 
This struck a chord in them, and they seemed to gain some courage.

Mark staggered forward, asking questions and pleading to his captors, but all it got him was a few more prods and curses.
 

The mob came through into a large opening.
 
Abby held a firm hand on Mark’s shoulder.
 
She saw Zara, standing there with a look of shock on her face.
 

Abby held up her hand to keep the club kids from charging in.
  
She looked around and saw only a pool of wispy smoke.
 
The club kids began to panic and push behind her, the smoke and now the sight of one of their targets making them entirely unstable.

Abby shoved Mark forward.
 
Drake had been wrong; there was no trap here, only a stupid, scared little girl who was cornered. She didn’t need this pathetic human shield to deal with the likes of Zara Lane.
 
        

Mark ambled forward, calling to his daughter.
 
Zara darted forward agilely and grabbed hold of him just as he was about to fall.
 
She cradled him and shot Abby a look of seething hatred.

Much to Abby’s surprise, Zara suddenly lunged backwards with her father like he was a rag doll.
 

Twig couldn’t wait a minute longer. The wildfire was coming up the hill to his position, and he was gagging on the smoke.
 
He could hear some shouting down in the canyon.
 
With burning eyes he saw the mob directly below him, right where Zara said they would come.
 
He counted at least ten bloodsuckers.
 
He reached in and started the truck.
 
He picked up the rock and almost dropped it down on the gas pedal before he remembered he had to light the rag first.
 
He put the rock back on the seat, took the lighter out of his pocket and ran to the side of the truck to light the rag, but it was gone.

“So it’s only you,” said a familiar voice from behind him.
 
He felt all his nerves jump at once.

Twig didn’t turn around, he just lowered his head.
 
He had left the crossbow, stupidly, on the seat inside the truck while he was scrambling around.
 
He was getting real sick of everyone getting the drop on him.
 

“Just me,” Twig said, turning and facing Drake.
 
He made a face.
 
“You got uglier since last time I saw you,” he said, trying to hide his fear that he was about to ripped to shreds.
 
Drake was dressed in Army uniform and was holding a long and ancient looking sword.

Drake snarled for a moment, and then he smiled.
 
“Gift from your father.
 
I’m sorry to say it was the last one he will ever give.”

Twig could barely breath now from the smoke that was filling his lungs, and with the demon’s words he now felt a too sick to stand.
 
The dizziness brought him to his knees.
 
“You lie!”
 
He wheezed.
 
He couldn’t think straight, everything seemed to be pushing him down to the ground.
 

Drake shook his head at him.
 
“So this is the last of the great vampire hunters.
 
And you wonder why I get more satisfaction fighting my own kind.
 
Look at you, it’s disgraceful.”

Twig struggled to his feet, and Drake gripped his sword tight.
 

Just then another voice came from the swirling smoke all around them.
 

“You will gain no satisfaction today
Drachen
,” the voice said.

Drake’s face grew serious and he spun around, narrowing his eyes.

           
“The peasant boy returns,” he grunted.
  
“Come then, Szellum, become the ghost you were always meant to be!”

As the words left his lips Twig saw a dark shape dive towards Drake, brandishing the same curved sword and swinging wildly.
 
Drake barely avoided the attack, raising his sword just in time, and the sound of the clashing metal rung in Twig’s ears.
 

The attacker vanished as quickly as he had struck.
 

Drake’s voice seemed shaky, but he stood his ground, turning wildly like the sped-up hand of a clock, waiting for the next attack.
 
“I see you have been training.
 
Such a waste of talent to die here.
 
Why die here when you can join us?”

The shape darted in again, and this time Drake had moved too slow and felt the sting of steel across his shoulder.
 
He cursed and swung his sword late, hitting nothing.

“You stole my life, now I take yours, pathetic as it is,” the voice said venomously as the hooded man darted in once again with a wild swing.
 
This time though Drake had gathered a handful of dirt in his hand while he was rising from his injury, and threw it into the face of the attacker.
 
This startled the hooded man and broke his momentum long enough for Drake to sidestep and swing his sword hard at his opponent’s midsection.
 
The hooded man swayed backwards away from the arc, but the blade nipped his leg.
 
Drake swung again but the wraith parried the blow.

The force of their swings pushed some of the smoke away, and Twig could see the newcomer’s face now, the same face as the man he was hunting in his dream.
 
The two men fought wildly, appearing and disappearing as smoke swirled around them.
 
Their movements were swift and calculating and both men snarled and hissed and spit and cursed.
 
It sounded to

Twig suddenly remembered Zara, down bellow waiting for him to act.
 
He didn’t care anymore about himself; he only wanted to take as many down with him as he could and protect Zara.
 
He snatched the rag up off the ground and jammed it back into the gas tank, lighting the end with a shaking hand.
 
The swords were still clashing behind him, and both Drake and the man he called
Szellem
were cursing and growling ferociously with each swing.

Twig wobbled to the truck’s cab, his eyes burning and his sight blurred, and felt around for the rock.
 
He found the rough edges of the rock and snatched it up.
 
He got out, grabbing the crossbow off the seat with one hand, then reaching in and dropping the rock onto the accelerator with the other.
 

He heard the truck’s engine roar, the sound of the dirt and pebbles shooting out from under the tires, and the truck jumped forward,
       

The swords stopped clashing for a moment and he could hear both vampires panting nearby.
 
Twig wiped his eyes with his sleeve and could see the hazy silhouette of one of them, shrouded in smoke, hunched over, either wounded or exhausted.
 
He raised the crossbow, pointed it towards the creature’s body, and fired.