Chapter 392
Loren had taken a fallen vampire's sword. He swung the weapon clumsily, and hopped back and forth, dodging his opponent's blows. Jorick was nearby, his hand gory and a dead vampire at his feet. He turned in time to grab the teen's foe and fling him to the ground. Loren grabbed another chunk of rubble and threw it onto the vampire's head. Though Katelina couldn't hear the crunch, she imagined it as a wave of crimson shot out.
Loren gave a smug grin, but his self-satisfaction disappeared when one of the ninja-style vampires grabbed him. He flung the teen toward another vampire, whose sword was at the ready. Ume dodged between them, knocking Loren aside with her arm, and, though she spun toward the assailant with her sickle, she wasn't fast enough. She took the brunt of the blow with her left arm and shoulder. She fell back with a cry, clutching her bleeding wound. Her opponent rammed the blade of his sword through her chest. Katelina stifled a scream as Ume crumpled to the heap of rubble.
Verchiel was suddenly there, standing over Ume's fallen form. With a swish he took off the vampire's head and with a second motion he rammed his bloody sword through the vampire's heart. He twisted the blade, then kicked the limp body off of the weapon.
The street lights blinked out, leaving everything washed in tones of black and blue. Loren flung himself blindly toward Ume, but Oren caught him and pulled him out of the way.
Enemies set on Oren and Torina gave a low, angry growl. "If you little humans can take care of yourselves, you'd better do it." Then she took off for the fight.
Working together, the vampire police made quick work of their enemies. Loren knelt next to Ume, and Verchiel fought a pair of vampires with flashing swords. Jorick threw down another vampire that had a gory hole where his heart had been.
Katelina tried to make sense of the chaos when a new vampire dropped to the ground from the top of the ruined tower. He landed in a crouch and rose slowly. He wore a long black coat, emblazoned on the back with a golden eye. On one arm he wore a weapon straight from a comic book; a metal glove reached to his elbow and blades extended out between his fingers.
It was Ronnell, the wind walker, one of Malick's former henchmen.
Ronnell set upon them like a whirlwind. He moved so fast that Katelina couldn't see him, only the reactions of those he injured. Verchiel abandoned his adversaries and disappeared too. He and Ronnell reappeared, their weapons locked, and then Ronnell ripped loose and they disappeared again.
The lights came back on, brighter than before, and Oren gave a shout. Katelina and the other vampires followed his gaze to the top of the wall where a vampire stood. Katelina squinted and could see long copper hair blowing around his face and a black trench coat whipping behind him like a cape.
It was Cyprus.
"Where is Wolfe?" he shouted.
Jorick ran toward the building and, like a preternatural panther, bounced his way up. He stopped at the top, one hand reaching for Cyprus' feet, and the other clutching the wall, the tip of Cyprus' bladed weapon at his throat.
"Where is Wolfe?" Cyprus shouted again.
Katelina couldn't hear Jorick's answer, but she guessed it was to the effect of "He's not here."
Cyprus roared in frustration. "Where is he?"
Micah called out what she was thinking, "Why don't you use your fucking demon eye shit. You're supposed to be able to see the future!"
The shadows in the abandoned buildings suddenly came to life and ten vampires dressed in black swarmed into the fray. Like cartoon characters, they wore black masks over their eyes. Ornate sickles glittered in their hands.
The Black Vigil had finally arrived.
Jorick used the distraction to grab Cyprus' foot. Unbalanced, the demon eye lashed out with his weapon and Jorick jerked back. Katelina muffled a squeal, but Jorick didn't fall.
A sound filled the air, steadily growing louder, like the beat of a drum or the rotor of-
"A helicopter?"
Etsuko made a noise of surprise and Katelina looked to see the Russians' retreating figures racing up the street in the opposite direction of the commotion.
"God dammit! Don't they understand we're helping them?" Katelina hesitated for a minute and then pounded after them. Police cars screamed past her, no doubt headed to the mess at the Birlik, and Katelina wondered whether they were humans or vampires. That scene was going to take a hellacious cover up.
She gained steadily on the escapees, and finally cornered them against a tiled building. The woman broke into sobs and Katelina's patience ran out. "What in the hell is your problem? God, we should've left you in Russia!"
She regretted her words, but it didn't matter. They couldn't understand her anyway.
She grabbed the woman's arm and tugged on her. "We need to go."
The woman cried out and struggled to get free. The male snapped something in Russian and snatched at Katelina. Impatiently, she lashed back and sent him sprawling on the sidewalk.
The woman gave a little cry and melted into terrified compliance. The man slowly slid backwards, lifting himself on his elbows and waving his hands in surrender. Katelina couldn't believe she'd been able to knock him over so easily. He might be half starved, but he was taller than she was, and surely a life of work had made him stronger.
Blue lights flashed and a police car pulled over. The cop popped out, and called to her in a foreign language. He definitely wasn't a vampire, which meant she was in real trouble.
Before she had time to analyze that thought, he was on the sidewalk. He looked from her to the other two and suspicion settled over his face. He changed to broken English and asked to see their documentation.
Shit.
The policeman turned his full attention to the Russians, and Katelina used the momentary distraction to do the only thing she could think of: she threw a punch directly at his head.
He turned a nanosecond before it connected, and her fist slammed into the side of his face. She could see it all in slow motion, feel his nose crack against her knuckles, see the way he stumbled sideways but didn't fall. He recovered quickly and lunged toward her.
Get away!
His eyes went wide and he fell back. His feet slipped and he crashed to the pavement and lay immobile.
Oh God, is he dead?
"Does it matter?" another voice asked.
The other door of the police car opened and a second man leaped out and shouted something. She grabbed the gun from the fallen officer's belt and pointed it with as much ferocity as she could muster. She didn't want to shoot the guy. He probably had a family and friends. Her imagination was instantly populated with the people he knew and the hole he'd leave if she had to kill him.
Shit!
"Katelina!"
She looked to see Jorick running toward her. He had a cut on his face and his forearm, but seemed otherwise unharmed. He skidded to a stop, grabbed the gun from her hands, and threw it to the ground. The man standing by the car, hands in the air, went slack and Jorick snapped, "What are you doing?"
"They ran away." She motioned to the cringing couple. "After I caught them this cop showed up. I hit him. Harder than I've ever hit anyone! His nose broke! And then he slipped or something and I think I killed him!"
Jorick poked the bleeding cop with his foot. "He's still alive, though he'll wake up angry." He grabbed her hand. "We need to leave."
Katelina glanced back to the Russians. "What about them? You said you were going to turn them in at the Birlik."
"Change of plans. We need to go. Now."
Annoying or not, she couldn't abandon them, so she grabbed the woman. "Come on, we're going!" she shouted, though even she didn't know where they were going to.
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