Even Vampires Get the Blues (28 page)

“You!” he screeched, his voice literally causing the windows to erupt into a thousand little shards of glass.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, not taking the time to pick the monkey statue out of the debris of the bird—I just scooped it all up, hugged it to my chest, and bolted for the front door.

“Run, Clare, he's on to us!” I bellowed. She didn't
stop to ask who; no doubt she caught a glimpse of the monstrosity behind me.

Paen, pull us out
, I yelled, my skin erupting into pain as Caspar's tendrils of power lashed out and caught me, holding me fast at the doorway.

“Noooooo!” Clare screamed, grabbing my arm to keep me from being pulled back in.

Bless his heart, Paen didn't bother with asking unimportant questions—he simply merged himself with me, filling me, holding me, binding me to him, and what was most important at that moment, yanking both Clare and me out of the beyond, back onto the cliff shelf on the Lammermuir Hills.

I threw myself into Paen's arms, unmindful of the sharp corners of the bits of statue I held clutched to my body, so grateful to be away from Caspar, tears mingled with the kisses I pressed to his face.

“Clare,” Finn shouted from the plain below.

“I'm all right,” she yelled back, going to the edge to wave at him. “But that demon lord was awful! He was the most horrible thing I've ever seen!”

Behind us, the stone groaned as if in protest.

“He was hideous, all black and twisted and misshapen!”

The sound of a thousand souls in agony ripped through us as the fabric of being was shredded.

“I think I would die if I were ever to see him again, he was just that awful,” Clare called to Finn.

Caspar stepped out of the beyond, power coiled around him like snakes, writhing and twisting, snapping at everything they could reach. The ground shook, as if protesting Caspar's presence in such a sacred spot.

“I see you found my statue,” he said, his voice filled with the promise of eternal torment. “I will take it back now, if you don't mind.”

An immense cracking noise rent the air, causing everyone to cover their ears. The rocky shelf we stood on shattered, the stone crashing to the ground below, taking us with it.

The silence that followed the roar of rocks and shrieks of the soft, squishy humans (or variations thereof) as they fell to the ground was almost as deafening in its absence as the sound was previously.

Samantha? Are you hurt?

I groaned and shoved a cantaloupe-sized bit of boulder from my arm before rolling off Paen.
My left wrist might be broken. It hurts bad enough that I may barf. Are you OK? Why did you grab me right as we fell? I must have crushed you when we hit the ground.

I grabbed you so you wouldn't be crushed. Let me see your arm.

A red wave of pain and nausea threatened to overwhelm me as I struggled into a sitting position, my hurt arm held tight to my chest. “I'm fine,” I told Paen as he tried to examine my arm. He had a nasty gash in his cheek that spilled blood down the side of his face, but he looked relatively all right. “Find Clare.”

“Clare? Where are you, love?” Finn loomed next to me, hurling rocks aside as he searched for my cousin. “Can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you,” came a muffled reply from about ten feet away. Finn gave a relieved shout and flung rocks willy-nilly until Clare's torso was uncovered.

“What about Pilar and Caspar?” I asked Paen as he turned back to me. The rear side of him was covered in blood, his shirt tattered and bloody from where he had hit the debris-strewn ground. Beyond him, Uilleam and the ghosts approached, leaping from rock to rock.

Paen snarled an oath as he helped me to my feet. “Who the hell cares about them?”

“Oh! Just look at this shirt! Just look at it! It's completely ruined!” Clare pushed aside Finn's helpful hand as she lunged a few feet away to where Pilar and Beppo emerged unscathed from behind a truck-sized boulder. I was glad to see that despite being bloody and filthy, Clare hadn't been hurt.

A state that would change if she had her way.

“This is the second outfit of mine you've ruined,” she screeched at Pilar, snatching up a rock and brandishing it. “This shirt is raw silk, hand-screened by Donna Karan herself! And now it's totally ruined!”

“Clare, no, he's the monkey god! You can't hit a god!” I yelled, but not before she cracked Pilar upside the head with the stone. He stared in stark surprise at her for a moment, then threw his head back and roared his fury to the night sky.

“Christ on a handcar, I can't take her anywhere,” I swore, starting toward her—but at the exact moment that Pilar turned his furious eyes to my cousin, an explosion sent us all ducking. Debris rained down upon us, rocks and sticks and chunks of earth pelting
us without discretion, the air thick with the stink of demons as Caspar emerged from a pyramid of broken rock. Behind him, a good hundred or so demons swarmed out of the ground, leaping onto the nearby rocks, their shrieks cutting into the night.

“Sun Wukong!” Caspar bellowed, his face black with rage.

“Oh, shit,” I said, watching in horror as Caspar flung open his arms and called up his demon horde.

“My feelings exactly,” Paen answered, scooping me up in his arms and hauling me to the large rock Uilleam was perched on. “May I?” he asked, setting me down before holding out his hand.

“Sun Wukong, you have deceived me!” Caspar screamed, pointing at Pilar.

Uilleam grinned and yanked off the sword that was strapped to his back. Since he had another in his right hand, I guessed the second was a spare, for emergencies. “Aye, ye're welcome to Old Mab. She's got a wicked bite to her.”

“Um . . . Paen . . .”

“As you deserved, Yan Luowang,” Pilar called back to him. Beppo hopped off his shoulder as Pilar leaped a good eight feet onto the boulder nearest him, striking a dramatic pose as he addressed the enraged demon lord. “You have defiled this reality for long years. Now it is time for you to be sent back to the fifth hell where you belong!”

“Stay here where you're safe, love,” Paen told me before nodding toward the demons climbing down the rocks. “Shall we?”

“Aye, we shall,” Uilleam answered, then lifted his sword high as he gave a battle cry. The ghosts
shouted in return as they ran forward to meet the onslaught of demons, Finn and Paen at the front.

“This time, I will have my revenge,” Caspar swore, lifting his right hand. Power crackled off it like miniature lightning. “This time, I will destroy you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and wished myself anywhere but here, about to witness the showdown of two ancient gods. I opened them again when I heard a chirruping—Beppo was picking through the rubble at my feet.

“Isn't this exciting?” Clare asked, coming over to where I was seated. “It's just like something out of
Lord of the Ri
—”

I shot her a look that stopped the words dead, and slid off the rock to carefully make the few steps over to where Beppo was struggling with a stone.

“You're too sensitive,” Clare told me, then frowned at the monkey. “What's he doing?”

“I don't know, but I have a feeling—hey! Come back here with that! That's my statue!”

The clash of steel and screams of demons rose into a wave of noise as the ghosts and vampires met the attacking demons. I threw myself after Beppo, intent on retrieving the black monkey statue he'd found in the rubble, but at that moment, two bright lights hit the area, taking everyone by surprise for a second. The lights were blinding, causing me to stumble over a rock and hit the ground a second time.

“Cool, reenactors,” a black silhouette with an American voice said from behind the huge arc lights.

Around us, the battle raged, the noise of it almost deafening.

“What are those ugly brown things they're fighting?” another voice asked.

A red wave of pain and nausea rolled over me as my bad arm smashed against a rock. I retched up my last meal, gasping for air, desperately trying to stay conscious as my body rid itself of everything in my stomach.

“Who cares?” the first voice answered. “Just film it, it's great footage. Watch your step, there's a woman puking right here.”

“That's my cousin, if you don't mind,” Clare said indignantly as she bent over me, pausing to ask in a much more civil tone, “Are you movie people?”

“Dude, check out the babe,” the second man said, nudging the first with his elbow.

“I'm a model, not a babe,” Clare answered, and despite her frivolous nature, ignored them to help me to my feet.

“Get the statue,” I gasped, the world spinning around me as I tried to fight down another wave of nausea.

“What? Oh.” Clare pointed at where Beppo was leaping from rock to rock, dodging the flying bodies and spinning swords to reach his master. “Too late.”

“No, it bloody well isn't,” I answered, staggering forward as best I could.

Sam! Stay where you're safe!
Paen was next to a huge boulder, swinging a sword black with demon blood, one demon clinging to his side while two others rushed toward him. Behind him, Finn was fighting with a battle-axe, the two men protecting each other's backs. They used their weapons with such skill, and moved with such coordination—one
swinging left while the other went right—I wondered if it was due to skill or experience.

That damned monkey has the statue. I'm OK, just take care of yourself. Above you!

Paen snarled an obscenity in my head as a demon threw itself down on him. I knew I would be helpless in battle with a broken arm, so I plunged forward, through the fringes of ghosts battling demons.

“That's mine,” I yelled to Pilar as Beppo leaped up his arm, the Jilin statue in the monkey's furry little hands.

Pilar smiled as he took the statue from Beppo, turning to raise it triumphantly over his head. “Behold, Yan Luowang! The statue which you created in my image! It has returned to me at last.”

“Nooooooo!” screamed Caspar from where he perched on a rock. His body twisted in anguish—or so I thought for a moment. As it continued to twist it grew, lengthening, folding up on itself, his features becoming misshapen parodies of a human face. I realized then that he was changing out of his human form, his true demon lord body being revealed. It was a horrible sight, so foul my eyes instinctively skittered away from looking at him. “Revenge . . . will . . . be mine!”

“Into this vessel you poured all your hatred, all your knowledge of the Old Ways. With its destruction, so shall you be returned to your origins. Return to the fifth hell, Yan Luowang! Return and leave this world in peace!”

“No!” I screamed, Caspar's anguished howl a horrible echo. I snatched up a palm-sized rock, took aim, and hurled it directly at Pilar's head. The piece fell
harmlessly at his feet as he turned to look at me. “I brought it back! It's mine! You are not going to destroy it!”

“You will not win this time!” the horrible monstrosity that was Caspar screamed, and leaped toward us. Finn, Paen, and the ghosts all moved as one to stop him.

“Man, what's with ugly guy's costume? Someone's been playing way too much Dungeons and Dragons,” one of the film people said.

“Dude,” the other one said in acknowledgement, and turned the camera on the sight of the demon lord version of Caspar going down under a swarm of Scottish ghosts.

Pilar grabbed me by the throat and hauled me upward, until I was dangling a good six feet off the ground. “You dare intervene in a sacred duty?”

“It's my statue,” I croaked, unable to breathe with the hold he had on my neck. “I found it first.”

Sam!
Paen shouted, evidently having just seen my predicament. I knew without looking he was hacking and slashing his way through the demons that were trying to free their master.

“It must be destroyed,” Pilar told me, unmindful that I was turning blue. “It contains the source of his powers. Without it, he will be confined to hell, where he belongs.”

“Can't . . . breathe . . .” I gasped.

“It was given to you by mistake,” Pilar continued, just as if I wasn't slowly asphyxiating in front of him. “It was taken by Paymon, a rival demon lord, several hundred years ago. I knew Paymon would not allow Yan Luowang to have it, so I was content to wait. But
Yan Luowang is clever. He has gathered power over the centuries, waiting for the moment when he could steal the statue back. I bartered for it from Paymon before he could do so.”

“I . . . can't . . . breathe . . .” My lungs ached to draw in a breath, but Pilar's grip on my neck prohibited any air from passing.

“Here come the Marines,” one of the Americans called out as behind him, film extras ran to join the battle, yelling enthusiastically as they had been coached to do. I wanted to shout at them, to warn them that they could be killed, but there was no way I could do anything but dangle helplessly in front of Pilar. I clawed at his hand with my one arm, but he didn't seem to have any trouble at all holding me up for an extended period of time.

“As the servant of Yan Luowang, I was able to monitor his quest for the statue. It would be just a matter of time before the Dark One he charged with finding it would come to you, so I attempted to remove you from the scene by giving you another task, but you, foolish one, would not leave.”

The screams of several men tore through the night as a veritable volcano of Scottish ghosts erupted off of Caspar, their bodies cartwheeling as they were flung high before plummeting back to the ground.

“Now, that is some quality battle choreography,” one of the Americans commented. “No wires, yet. Impressive.”

“You . . . Owen . . . Race?” Red spots started appearing before my eyes. My legs kicked madly as I tried to break the hold Pilar had on me.

“Instead, you intercepted the minion Paymon had
sent to bring me the statue, completely mucking up my carefully laid plans. Yes, I am Owen Race. I am also known as Samaria Magnus.” Pilar stopped for a moment to narrow his eyes at me. “You are not a very good investigator. You should find some other form of employment.”

“Sun Wukong, I will be—” Caspar went down again as a herd of movie extras flung themselves on him.

“Tried to . . . kill us?”

Pilar gave me another of his disappointed looks. “You do not know what will happen if Yan Luowang were to regain power. He would not be content to rule in Abaddon—he would lay claim to the mortal world as well. I would do anything to stop him, even if it meant killing innocents.”

The red spots merged into puddles and formed interesting shapes as they danced before me. “Why . . . tell me?”

Between them, Pilar looked moderately surprised at my question. “It is traditional, I believe, for the villain to explain all his plans just before he kills off the pesky heroine.”

“Not . . . pesky . . .
determined
 . . .” I gave up fighting him, and hung limp from his grip, the burn in my lungs so great I just wanted the red blobby things to ease my suffering.

“You're not watching enough movies, demon. The audience always wants to see the hero win,” a deep, masculine, angry Scottish voice said behind him.