K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 27
🕑 Added 2024-06-16 15:00:09 +0000 UTC
Nicholas wrenched off the headset and shoved it into the bag with the other gear. Everything that wasn't a weapon had to go. It was basic operational security: never let the enemy know your capabilities. There was another, more personal reason he didn't want to dwell on.
Della didn't deserve to hear him die.
“Motherfucking son-of-a-bitch.” Pretty lousy last words, but he couldn't think of any better. He slung the gear bag and got moving.
It hadn’t been an ambush that nailed him. No, what had gotten Nicholas killed was sheer dumb luck.
Not luck. He could almost hear Beverly lecturing him. This is the result of insufficient information.
It was true. Even a top Gilda Devota analyst like Beverly couldn’t have predicted what he’d seen tonight. Vampires loping along the street like urban predators. Monsters not even attempting to hide their natures. Pure insanity. Watching them dash along the street below him in unnatural stops and starts, their body temperature a cool green in the scope, had tightened his stomach in instinctive dread.
Nicholas slid to a stop at the trashcan next to the stairwell. The hole was too small, so he quickly waggled the metal top off, stuffed the gear bag inside, and replaced it. He entered the stairwell without hesitation, acutely aware that his palm—still gripping the baseball bat—had grown clammy and cold.
Would Della try to help? Was she on her way now? She’d made it clear that he wasn't to attempt any rescuing, but did that expectation go both ways? It probably wouldn't matter. She was fast and strong, but she wasn't a comic book character. The tobacconist was blocks away, while the vampire who’d spotted Nicholas had been across the street.
She’ll come. He chose to believe that she would at least try.
Wishful thinking or not, he felt better as he headed up the stairs. Several stories below him the ground-level security door slammed open, hitting the wall with a banging echo he felt in his teeth.
The vampire had arrived.
Nicholas kept moving up the stairs, intending to exit on the next floor. His heart felt like it was battering his breastbone in a rhythmic assault. In stark contrast, his thoughts were an uneven jumble of analysis and training piling up so fast that they threatened to make his mind seize.
Survive the second. He focused on the phrase with desperation, finding clarity in the harrowing memory of his first day of training.
“If you lose the element of surprise…if one of them comes at you straight…you’re probably going to die.” The Vietnam vet’s words, delivered in a voice as rough as sandpaper, seemed to be the perfect lecturer on the subject of a hunter’s brief and dangerous life. After witnessing the mangled rifle, the stark black-and-white photos of failed raids, and Ricky telling them about losing his leg, Nicholas was a bundle of raw, exposed nerves.
“So forget the whole fight,” the vet rasped. “You don't stand a chance in hell of surviving it, anyway. Focus on surviving the next second. That's it. What’s the next step to stay alive right now? Figure it out, then do that. If you're still alive, figure out the second after that. Keep going. String enough together and you may just make it through the whole damn thing.” He suddenly looked directly at Nicholas and grinned. “But I doubt it.”
Nicholas gritted his teeth hard enough to hurt, returning his focus to the present. He had to stay in the moment if he was going to survive. He’d already created distance from the location he was spotted. Now he would exit onto the next level and hope—
Tak…tak…tak…
Footsteps on the stairs below, their rhythm alien and unnatural. The individual sound of a hard-soled shoe on cement was normal enough, but the gaps between steps conjured an image of a man leaping five steps at a time. He only had a few seconds.
Acting on instinct, Nicholas froze. The footsteps grew louder and louder. He cursed his heart for beating so hard, knowing it wasn't hyperbole that the vampire might hear it. But instead of a clawed hand gripping his shoulder, there was another explosion of noise just below him as the door hit the wall. The vampire had exited onto the fourth floor, the last place he’d seen Nicholas. One more second survived.
Holding his breath, Nicholas moved across the half-landing and up the stairs towards the fifth floor. Exit here or try for the roof? He didn't like the idea of being exposed outside with no retreat. Grimacing, he eased open the fifth-floor door and stepped out into yellow-lit emptiness. Fuck. Not a single car to use as a hiding spot. Hesitantly he took a few steps towards the nearest column.
“I seeeee yooooou!”
The shout came from the other end of the building where the sloping parking deck wound down towards the floor below. Despite the amateurish horror film delivery, Nicholas felt a jolt of abject terror. The vampire was standing in the middle of the ramp, his leering visage clear even from this distance.
Then he began to run.
The Libertine wasn't quite as fast as Della, but that just meant he was still visible to the naked eye. Nicholas was proud that he didn't freeze. Instead, he spun neatly on his toes and broke into a sprint back towards the stairwell. He was fast by the standards of his teammates, but now it felt like he was suspended in syrup.
Nicholas made it past the shutting door and decided his best option was down. Spurred by fear, he leapt past the entire flight of stairs, aiming for the landing between five and four. His stomach floated in open space for one fraught instance, giving him just enough time to realize he’d overshot.
His feet slammed onto the concrete of the landing one heartbeat before his knee impacted against the wall.
Agony burst inside his body and exited out of the top of his head, taking his breath with it. For a few precious seconds he could do little more than open his mouth in a silent scream. Consciousness flickered out for a single second, like reality had blinked.
Keep. Moving.
Nicholas hobbled down the stairs towards the fourth-floor exit, clutching the banister in one hand and somehow managing to keep hold of the bat in his other. Had the door opened behind him? The roaring in his ears was making it hard to hear. He had survived another second, but he wouldn't have bet money on the next five. He stumbled onto the fourth-floor landing and managed a single limping step towards the door.
“Freeze!”
A sudden tremor roiled across Nicholas’s limbs. He froze in shock and revulsion. The yoke. It was worse than when Della had used it. That time his horror had stemmed from the way she’d submerged his will with a thought. This felt far more crude, like someone turning him into a puppet by sinking hooks into his skin—but it faded almost immediately.
“Turn around.”
His would-be killer was new at this. The verbal commands gave it away. But apart from another crawling sensation across his skin, there was no effect.
I’ve still got resistance.
To test it, Nicholas carefully flexed his hand around the baseball bat. A fierce hope ignited. The commands were brushing against his mind, but the remnants of Della’s blood had bought another critical second—maybe a whole damn slew of them.
“I said, turn around.”
Nicholas shuffled to face the vampire, playing along. From afar, his foe had reminded him of a shabby waiter. Up close it was even worse. The vampire had unkempt hair and pale shiny skin, and his lazy attempt at the Libertine look was a button-up shirt—one tail hanging out—and a loosened bowtie dangling around his neck. His expression was a combo of childish glee and naked addiction.
“You scared, bro?” The vampire grinned, and the dim lighting flashed on his extended fangs. Nicholas was scared, but he also had enough pride to be angry that this…loser was the source. He encouraged that trickle of resentment. Anger brought its own problems, but it beat mind-numbing terror.
The Libertine took a few steps down from the mid-floor landing. “Come closer.”
Nicholas complied, his knee shrieking with each step up. Did the yoke dampen pain? He had no idea, but it was impossible to keep the grimace off his face. The hurt amped up another notch as he took two more steps and stopped. Any more and he'd probably cry out.
The vampire took another step. Only three separated them now.
Just a little closer.
“Drop the bat.”
He mentally cursed the prick for this flicker of intelligence, but kept his face composed. Without missing a beat, Nicholas rotated the bat sideways and dropped it on the step in front of him. It rolled forward until it encountered his shins and stopped, still within easy reach.
“Expose your neck.” The breathy eagerness in the Libertine’s voice made Nicholas want to shudder, but then the vampire took one crucial step closer.
This was it.
Nicholas raised his arms to the neckline of his jacket, looking for all the world like he was about to pop the top button to provide access. He carefully lifted his chin and squeezed his eyes tight. If the blinder didn't fire, he’d throw himself over the railing and hope to hell he broke his neck.
Say ‘cheese,’ motherfucker.
He wrenched at the jacket, parting the snaps with a sound like a giant cracking it's knuckles. There was a brief resistance as the activation cord was tugged out of the blinder’s housing, but the friction pull did its job. There was a barely audible ping as the device snapped open, then a much louder CRACK as the six zirconium filaments flared into brilliance. For an instant the world turned bright pink through Nicholas's eyelids.
The Libertine’s unholy shriek reverberated in the enclosed stairwell until it sounded like the screams of the damned.
Nicholas opened his eyes to see the vampire clutching his face. An amateur would have taken this moment to run, but he knew better: the only way to stay alive in a vampire fight was to keep your opponent too unbalanced to respond.
He scooped up the bat, took a precious extra second to line up the shot…and swung. The bat slammed into the monster’s hands, but the creature barely budged, even when the crunching sound made it clear he’d shattered some fingers.
“Kill you…” the Libertine whined, and it was clear he was already recovering.
Something inside Nicholas gave way. It was as if rage had started geysering from that hidden trickle in the depths of his soul. It had been perfect. His prep and execution had created a flawless ambush and this asshole vampire was still going to win despite being a fucking moron! It didn't matter. He would heal and then use his inhuman strength to murder Nicholas for a cheap high.
Turn him into a fucking statistic.
Keep him from seeing Della again.
Nicholas let loose a roar and lurched forward. He wrapped his arms around the vampire’s legs, the agony in his knee becoming a perverse benediction of his temporary madness. His shout became a primal scream. He hoisted the Libertine up…higher…and over the railing, sending him tumbling onto the hard-edged steps fifteen feet below.
But a fall against jagged concrete was just an elbow-scrape, wasn't it? Nothing but a minor irritant to a monster who could regenerate muscle and bone as easy as breathing. No…he needed something to add impact. Something heavy. Half-crazed and riding the dangerous line between battle frenzy and panic attack, Nicholas clumsily pulled himself over the railing with his free hand. He hesitated for less than a second before releasing his grip and letting his body plummet.
Another second of sickeningly thrilling freefall…before his breath pistoned out as he landed. Since it was only excruciating, he knew he’d hit his target. The Libertine had broken Nicholas’s fall, and Nicholas’s fall had broken the Libertine—at least temporarily judging by the gurgling sounds.
The bat…where was the bat? Nicholas blinked. It was, miraculously, still clenched in one hand.
What, waiting for a fancy invite? The voice of his instructor in his head. You haven't won, you just bought a few seconds. Get the fuck up, you pathetic bastard! Now!
Nicholas held onto the dying embers of his rage and rolled over with a bellow that sounded like a wounded creature. He staggered to his feet, awkwardly balanced on two different steps. Below him, the vampire was already moving. He watched as a broken arm reset itself. It was all so fucking unfair.
“Stop,” he gasped, gripping the bat in both hands. He raised it high overhead and brought it down as hard as his quivering arms would allow. He rebroke the leech’s arm. He swung again…then again…focusing the subsequent blows on the Libertine’s head. “Just”—thwack—“fucking”—thock—“stop!” It was a plea. The vampire’s face was a curtain of blood and gristle when something popped in Nicholas's shoulder; had he clipped the rail on the way down?
That brief hesitation was all it took.
The vampire’s unbroken arm shot out and thumped him in the chest. He felt his heart stutter with the force of the blow, agony radiating from his ribs to his fingertips. The bat tumbled out of his numb hand, but that was the least of Nicholas's problems. It felt like he was falling again—
—found himself sitting on cold cement, upright only because there was a very hard wall behind him. Nothing in his body felt right. His vision refused to clear and his eyelids kept drooping down.
Lost consciousness…when I hit…can’t let up…next second…
A darker blur above him shifted position. The vampire. He was moving. Slowly the scene resolved, and he realized the Libertine was sitting up and swiping dark red blood out of his eyes. As soon as he could see, Nicholas would die.
He fumbled at his belt for the baton-shaped emergency staker. It was perversely funny that his survival should come down to the “yolo pogo,” but his agony made it impossible to smile. He unhooked it with the bleary focus of a drunk and managed to uncap the steel spike after two tries.
Faster.
Nicholas found the safety ring by feel and tugged it out. With the arm strength of an invalid, he was forced to brace the weapon against the wall just below his armpit. He pointed it in the general direction of the vampire.
The Libertine shot to his feet.
Nicholas hadn't finished aiming, but he depressed the firing stud anyway—human reflexes couldn’t compete and he wasn’t about to try. There was a hiss of compressed air and the staker vibrated like a living thing. Then…silence. He took a breath, focusing on his gore-spattered pants. There was a bloody hold over one knee.
Seconds continued to pass, one right after the other. A whole fucking buffet of them.
He was still breathing.
The thick scent of vampire blood—more astringent than human—reached his nostrils. Nicholas lolled his head to one side, squinting at a bloody hand next to his thigh. It twitched.
The vampire was sprawled right beside him. In the scant heartbeat between Nicholas pushing the button and the staker firing, the creature had made it close enough to tear his face off. But the staker’s barbed spike had been slightly faster. It was lodged neatly through the vampire’s neck. He’d missed the heart, but it appeared his foe’s capacity for regeneration had finally been reached. One gore-flecked hand tugged feebly at the metal protruding from the vampire’s throat.
“Nicholas.”
Nicholas blinked and wrenched his focus away from the Libertine. Della was on the landing below. It was the only time he’d ever seen her breathing hard. Her hair was a wild jumble around her pale skin and her blue eyes blazed like stars of ill-omen. His dagger was in her hand, held with the poise of a veteran knife fighter.
God, she was magnificent.
Even as he worried about the blood-stained and shredded shirt on her torso, he admired the raw power rolling off of her. She was far more terrifying than the novice beside him. He wanted to kiss her.
“You came…” he croaked, then grinned at how terrible he sounded. Or maybe he was smiling because she had come for him.
“Yes.” Della walked up the steps slowly.
There was an intensity to her that was electric. It’s her emotions, he realized. Before she’d been cold and distant, but the fighting had stirred-up what wasn't locked away. The passion that remained was…animalistic. Della had been stripped to the bedrock of her psyche. She kept her gaze on him. He saw raw fury. Exultation. Something that seemed almost…possessive.
She stopped and looked down at the still twitching Libertine. Then, her gaze flicked to his. Slowly, almost ritualistically, she took a step back, sheathing her knife.
He immediately understood by the way she looked at him. That strange bright ring around her irises in the dim light of the stairwell. She was showing courtesy. One hunter to another.
Nicholas forced his aching body to move. He came to his knees with a groan and unsnapped the loop holding the extendable stake. It clattered to the concrete. He released the loop on the opposite side and the hammer hit the floor with a faint ring.
Pick up the spike…extend it…lock it. Now grab the hammer. He used its blunt end to nudge the Libertine fully onto his back. The vampire choked and twitched but didn’t offer any resistance. Nicholas set the spike over the monster’s heart, distantly shocked that his hands weren’t shaking. He raised the hammer with his good arm.
My first kill.
He brought it done on the blunt end of the spike. Once, twice, and finally it went through to the floor. The Libertine went limp and lifeless, immobilized by the stake. Ready for the pyre.
“Vânător.”
Nicholas blinked, looking up at Della. She was staring at him, wearing a look that could only be described as naked hunger.
