Warrior Rising (17 page)

Death in battle was always a possibility. Even the best fighters fell. It was possible — very possible — that neither she nor Sorin would survive to see the sunrise. Her death would send her home, to another world where she would recover and then search frantically for yet another blood relative to invite her back into this world.

Sorin — Sorin would just be gone.

At that thought, she saw his opponent rise into the air and fly down swiftly, sword poised to take Sorin’s head.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Atlanta, Georgia

She’d tried to call her daughter a dozen times, and had gotten no answer. It went straight to voicemail, which meant the cell was turned off or the battery was dead, or maybe was in a rare area that got no service. Surely Chloe wasn’t still on that camping trip; she’d never been a fan of roughing it, and
camping
was so out of character. Then again, staying away from the city wasn’t a bad idea. Washington, D.C. was not the safest place to be right now. Maybe Chloe had been away from home when the madness started, and she’d decided to stay away. Maybe she’d lost her phone, or had no way to charge it, or… the other “ors” that followed were not so ordinary or pleasant.

Amelia Fallon hadn’t slept in days. She’d dozed a bit the previous afternoon, but that fitful attempt could hardly be called restful. Her mind had been spinning with worry for her daughter. For the world! What she’d been seeing on the news couldn’t be true. It was impossible. She kept telling herself that, but she was not convinced. Not entirely.

Her husband, Bill, busied himself in the kitchen, making another pot of coffee and putting together an early morning snack. He had put on a calm face, for her sake she imagined, and he had tried to tell her that what they’d been hearing had been nonsense. There was a logical explanation for everything, they just didn’t have that explanation yet. He was always so calm, so reasonable. She wanted to believe he was right. She didn’t.

Amelia jumped when the doorbell rang. Who called at this time of the morning? It was far too early for anyone to stop by. Bill mumbled something from the kitchen, and she heard his heavy step as he headed her way. Like her, he was probably wondering what was wrong to bring someone to their door at this hour.

She opened the door to a young girl who looked frightened and lost. And so she should be, out at this time of day. “I’m… I’m…” The girl stopped stuttering, took a deep breath and continued, “Are you Chloe’s mother?”

“Yes.” Amelia opened the screen door wide. “Come in. I’ve been so worried. Chloe’s not answering her cell, and the news from Washington has been so…” Alarming, unbelievable, impossible!

Bill entered the room, a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand. “Who is it?” In his voice she heard a caution she had not felt, herself. Why should she be cautious? This friend of Chloe’s was not more than a child.

The girl stepped inside, and as soon as she was across the threshold her expression changed. Suddenly she looked older, and… meaner. At that moment, Amelia realized her mistake. Logical, reasonable Bill had been wrong; Amelia’s worries had not been unfounded. Vampires! They were real, and they were
here
.

Amelia’s brain reached for some semblance of control. Push away the fear. Accept reality.
Do
something. Could she order the vampire out? Was it too late? Before she could think to try, the girl — not a girl at all — flew across the room and tackled Bill. Her large husband went down like a rag doll, helpless. His coffee cup flew out of his hand and smashed against the wall behind him, splattering the dark, hot liquid against a pale yellow canvas. He grunted, struggled with the much smaller girl as best he could — but he did not struggle for long.

His throat was ripped open. Blood spurted across the vampire’s face, into the air, and onto the carpet at his feet. Amelia’s husband of thirty-six years was dead in an instant.

Her attempts at gaining control and taking action died as quickly as they had been born. She would be next, she supposed. Amelia was stunned, silent. She still stood near the front door, frozen in place. Dazed. The world narrowed, faded, went fuzzy. In a part of her mind she knew she should scream and run, but — it was too late for that. She had seen how fast the vampire moved, how deadly the monster was.

At this moment she would rather be dead than go on. She would rather not see and remember and accept that such things were possible in a world she had once thought safe.

But she did not die. The vampire stepped over Bill’s body, walked to the couch, and sat almost demurely. The monster that looked like a girl licked her bloody fingers before saying, “Call your daughter, and tell her Marie said hello.”

Sorin had realized this war might be the end of him, especially since he’d changed sides and made an enemy of Marie, but as it was coming at him — fast and ugly and sharp — he felt a rush of regret.

Regret was a new sensation for him. He didn’t recall feeling it even in life, and as a vampire? Never. Life, however it was lived, whether for a few short years or an eternity, should always be without regret.

His sword arm was slashed to the bone. Flesh splayed, blood spurted. There was an instant and unexpected weakness as that arm fell to his side. He would heal, but not fast enough to gather the strength to fight the ancient vamp that was coming down upon him. Sorin shifted his sword to his left arm and prepared to fight on. He would not die standing on a D.C. sidewalk helpless as a human.

An arrow — no, a bolt from a crossbow — pierced the attacker’s neck and threw him off balance so that the next swing of his sword went well wide. The hideous bloodsucker looked surprised by this turn of events. He landed on his feet near Sorin and spun to face the new attacker — the bolt through his neck largely ignored — just in time to take another bolt through the heart. With a sharp word in a guttural language Sorin had never heard, the monster turned to dust.

In the midst of the chaos, a ridiculously small dog began to bark.

Without sparing even a glance for the newcomer or the animal, Sorin turned his attention to the creature Indikaiya did battle with. Monstrous as they were, they died like any other of the kindred. Sword gripped in his left hand, he joined in her fight. The robed vampire seemed weakened by the loss of his companion. Perhaps they had been connected in some way. Mentally, spiritually. At the very least, he was distracted by the final death of his partner.

Indikaiya stabbed the attacker near the heart, barely missing her target. As she withdrew her sword with a frustrated grunt the small dog launched itself at the monster and clamped down on an exposed ankle. Sorin moved in and with one smooth stroke took the attacker’s head. Again, dust as with any other vampire.

There was deep, complete silence, for a moment. A split second. Then the little dog sniffed at what was left of the monster. All Sorin heard was that sniffing, his own pounding heartbeat and Indikaiya’s, and the faster, weaker heartbeat of the man who had — much as he hated to admit it — saved them. A nearby bird hidden in a thickly leafed tree chirped as if nothing had changed. Sunrise was coming. He looked Indikaiya up and down; he was not the only one who had been wounded.

“What the hell was that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Ancients, coming out of hiding to join in the fun.”

“Are there more of those?”

“Not many.” With that he turned to face whoever had been wielding the crossbow that had saved his ass. A Warrior, he assumed, perhaps someone Indikaiya knew.

What he saw standing on the sidewalk was a young man — a human — who was armed to the teeth. Crossbow, quiver filled with bolts, sword hanging at his side, shotgun hanging from a holster at his back. The heavy looking sack that hung on his hip likely held shells for that shotgun.

“You’re one of them,” the boy said, raising his crossbow in caution.

Indikaiya stepped in front of Sorin in an unexpectedly protective manner. “He is a vampire, that is true, but he’s fighting on the side of right. He has disposed of many of his own kind on this night.”

“And what are you?” The young man sounded suspicious. As he should. If he hadn’t seen them battling these ancients with his own eyes, he probably would’ve killed them on the spot.

Sorin expected the little dog — which looked very much like a large rodent with long, tangled brown fur — to return to its owner, but instead the mutt stood at Indikaiya's side as if it belonged there.

“Long story,” Sorin offered in a lowered voice. “You’re a good fighter, well prepared and efficient. Fearless, perhaps. Foolish, most certainly. Would you be interested in joining others of your kind?”

“You mean,
people
fighting bloodsuckers?”

“Yes, people fighting bloodsuckers.”

The eastern sky was lightening. Thank goodness the hideout he kept here in D.C. was near. “She will take you to…”

Indikaiya sighed. “I will not. I’m staying with you.”

“Why?” He turned to look at her, and saw a determined expression.

She scoffed. “You know why, or you should.” Indikaiya turned her attention to the human. “What is your name?”

“Kevin. Kevin Brown.”

She gave Kevin the address of the new headquarters, and suggested that he ask for Jimmy. Jimmy was probably about Kevin’s age, and he was also human, so that made sense. As much as anything made sense these days. “Tell them Indikaiya sent you. It will be daylight by the time you arrive there, so they shouldn’t mistake you for a vampire. Still, it would be best if you approached with your hands visible and empty.”

At that instruction, Kevin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You expect me to go into a strange house unarmed? I’ve seen my friends die horrible deaths, and I saw one turned into a… a… a monster.” At that, he cast a glance at Sorin.

“You can continue on your own, if you prefer,” Indikaiya said calmly. “You’re a competent soldier.”

“Competent?” Kevin all but shouted. “I’m a damn sight better than competent.”

“Skilled, then,” she continued without emotion. “You will live longer if you fight alongside other skilled soldiers, but of course that is your decision.”

Kevin snorted, then asked her to repeat the address. She did so, and then he turned to leave, jogging away from the scene of the battle.

The mutt stayed put.

"Hey! What about your dog?" Sorin shouted.

Kevin looked back and grinned. "She's not my dog. Looks like she's taken a liking to her." He nodded at Indikaiya.

Sure enough, the mutt stood at Indikaiya's side like a teeny but determined guard dog. Sorin scowled down at it. The dog growled.

"Shoo, dog," Sorin said with a wave of his hand.

The mutt did not obey.

Sorin leaned down slightly. "Go. Away."

The dog launched forward and clamped down onto Sorin's ankle. Unlike the ancient, he was wearing boots, so the dog got a mouthful of leather.

Indikaiya laughed a little as she reached down and grabbed the dog. "She seems not to care for vampires. A woman after my own heart." The mutt whimpered a bit and then licked at Indikaiya's face.

In the midst of war, a ridiculous moment.

"You are fearless," Indikaiya said to the mutt. "I must give you a Warrior's name. Athena. Boudica. Perhaps Joan.”

“Of Arc?” Sorin asked.

Indikaiya smiled. “Jett.”

Ah, yes, she had come to love the music of the time. Some of it, anyway.

Sorin leaned in and checked the name on the jeweled collar. The dog snarled and then snapped. "Cupcake."

Indikaiya looked appropriately horrified.

"Just leave her here. Someone will find Cupcake, or else she'll find her way home."

Indikaiya glared at him. "We can't leave her here.”

"Well, we can't keep her!"

"Why not?”

He had been in enough losing battles to recognize when he was met with yet another one.

Sorin took Indikaiya’s arm — the one which did not grasp a small dog — and guided her down the sidewalk, then turned along a well-traveled grassy path that led to the rear entrance of an apartment building. The large building was three stories tall, and fashioned of the same red brick as the Council headquarters. There was a slightly overgrown flower garden and a couple of wrought iron benches near the rear entrance. Some of the apartments had small balconies. Others, just windows. Normally he checked to see if anyone was watching. Today, he didn’t bother.

“You’re hurt,” he said as he positioned himself beneath his own third-story balcony.

“So are you.”

“You should’ve gone with Kevin Brown to the new headquarters. Someone there could fix you up.”

“I will heal.”

“I don't suppose I can convince you to leave the demon dog behind."

Naturally, she shook her head.

Sorin wrapped an arm around Indikaiya, and for once she did not argue or curse. In fact, she leaned into him. Why was she being so agreeable? He understood very well why he wanted her here, what he wanted from her, but she had made it clear…

She answered the question he did not ask aloud.

“Like it or not, you are needed at this time,” she said, sounding almost logical, speaking
almost
without emotion. “You have proven yourself, and unless I’m mistaken you are past the need for feeding.”

She could not have surprised him more. He leapt, for the first time in a long while forced to expend great effort in order to do something that was usually so easy it took no effort at all. They landed on his balcony. He did not immediately drop his arm, and she did not push away.

“I do need to feed. Are you offering?”

When Cupcake bit his forearm — drawing blood, this time — and Sorin cursed, Indikaiya moved the mutt aside.

“I see no other option.” Her eyes hardened as she took a step away from him. “Take more than is offered, and I will gut you.” At that, she fingered the handle of one of the knives she wore.

“That won’t kill me.”

“No, but it will be very painful, I imagine, even for you.”

Indeed, it would.

She would do it, too. Gut him. Hurt him. Turn that sword she wielded so well against him. In all his life, as a man and as a vampire, he had not known a woman like Indikaiya. He would not have even bet that such a woman existed.