Chapter 34
Ivy reared backwards, fangs flashing. Larry screamed, "Anita!" I heard the gun go off, felt the bullet hit her body. It hit her in the shoulder, twisted her body, but she turned back to me with a smile. She dug fingers into my shoulders and rolled us over, putting me on top, with one of her hands leeched to the back of my neck. She squeezed until I gasped.
"I'll snap her spine unless you throw that toy away," she said.
"She'll kill me anyway. Don't do it."
"Anita..."
"Now, or I'll kill her while you watch."
"Shoot her!" But there wasn't a clear shot. He'd have to walk around me and fire point-blank. Ivy could kill me twice over before he got to us.
Ivy forced my neck lower. I braced my right arm on the ground. She'd have to break something to get me down to her. If she broke my neck, it'd be over; a broken arm would just hurt.
I heard something hit the ground, a dull, heavy thump. Larry's gun. Damn.
She pressed harder on the back of my neck. I dug the palm of my hand into the ground hard enough to leave an imprint.
"I can break that arm and bring you to me. Your choice: easy, or hard."
"Hard," I said between gritted teeth.
She grabbed for my arm, and I had an idea. I collapsed forward on top of her. It caught her off guard. I had a handful of seconds to pull the chain around my neck out of my shirt.
Her hand slid through my hair like a lover's, pressing my face against her cheek, not hard, almost gentle. "Three nights from now you'll like me, Anita. You'll worship me."
"I doubt that." The chain slid forward, the crucifix pooled against her throat. There was a blinding flash of white, white light. A rush of heat that singed my hair.
Ivy screamed and clawed at the cross, scrambling from underneath me.
I stayed on all fours with the cross dangling in front of me. The blue-white flames died away because it wasn't touching vampiric flesh anymore, but it glowed like a captive star, and she backed away from it.
I didn't know where my gun was, but the machete gleamed against the dark earth. I wrapped my hand around it and got to my feet. Larry was behind me with his own cross out, held in front of him to the length of its chain. The white light with its core of blue was almost painfully bright.
Ivy screamed, shielding her eyes. All she had to do was walk away. But she was frozen, immobile in the face of the crosses, and two true believers.
"Gun," I said to Larry.
"Can't find it."
Both guns were matte black so they wouldn't reflect light at night and make us a target; now it made them invisible.
We advanced on the vampire. She threw both arms up before her face and screamed, "Nooo!" She'd backed up nearly to the edge of the circle. If she ran, we wouldn't chase her, but she didn't run. Maybe she couldn't.
I shoved the machete up under her ribs. Blood poured down the blade onto my hands. I drove the blade upward into her heart. I gave it that last little wrench to slice it up.
Her arms fell away from her face slowly. Her eyes were wide, surprised. She stared down at the blade in her stomach, as if she didn't understand what it was doing there. The flesh of her neck was black where the cross had burned her.
She fell to her knees and I went with her, keeping my grip on the machete. She didn't die. I hadn't really expected her to. I jerked the blade out of her, doing more damage. She made a low gurgling sound, but stayed on her knees. Her hands touched the blood flowing out of her chest and stomach. She stared at the gleaming darkness as if she'd never seen blood before. The blood flow was already slowing; unless I killed her soon, the wound would close.
I stood over her and brought the machete back in a two-handed grip. I put everything I had into that downswing. The blade bit into her neck, down to the spine, catching on the bone.
Ivy stared up at me with blood streaming down her neck. I swung back for another chop, and she watched me do it, too hurt to run now. I had to struggle to get the blade out of the spine, and still she blinked up at me. If I didn't finish her, she'd heal even this.
I brought the blade down one last time and felt the last edge of bone give. The blade came out the other side, and her head slid off her shoulders in a spray of blood like a black fountain. That black blood poured over the circle and closed it.
Power filled the circle until we were drowning in it. Larry fell to his knees. The light from the crosses faded like dying stars. The vampire was dead, and the crosses couldn't help us now.
"What's happening?"
I could feel the power like water on every side, choking close. I was breathing it in, soaking it up through my skin.
I screamed wordlessly and fell to the ground. I fell through layers of power, and the moment I hit the ground I could feel the power below me, stretching downward, outward.
I was lying on top of bones. They twitched like something moving in its sleep. I crawled to my knees, hands digging into the earth. I touched a long, thin arm bone, and it moved. I scrambled to my feet, slow, too slow through the pressing air, and watched.
Bones slid through the earth like water, coming together. The earth heaved and rocked underfoot like giant moles were crawling.
Larry was on his feet now, too. "What's happening?"
"Something bad," I said.
I'd never seen the dead coalesce. They always came to the surface of the grave all in one piece. I'd never realized it was like putting together a macabre jigsaw puzzle. A skeleton formed at my feet, and flesh began to crawl over it, flow like clay, molding itself back to the bones.
"Anita?"
I turned to Larry. He was pointing at a skeleton at the far edge of the circle. Half the bones were on the outside of the circle. Flesh crawled over this side of the bones and pushed against the blood circle. The earth gave one last heave, and the magic poured out over the ground. I heard it pop inside my head like a release of pressure. The air spread out, not so drowning-thick. It poured over the hillside like invisible flame, and everywhere it touched the dead formed bodies.
"Stop it, Anita. Stop it."
"I can't." The killing magic in the ground had stolen the reins. All I could do was watch and feel the power spreading outward. Enough power to ride forever. Enough power to raise a thousand dead.
I knew when Rawhead and Bloody Bones burst its prison. I felt the power sag as the thing escaped. Then the power lashed back into this bit of ground and drove us to our knees. The dead struggled from the earth like swimmers dragging themselves to shore. When nearly twenty dead stood waiting with empty eyes, the power flowed outward. I felt it seeking more dead, something else to raise. This I could stop. The fairie was gone, out of the loop; he had what he wanted.
I called the power back. I drew it into me, back through the ground, like pulling a snake by its tail out of a hole. I flung it into the zombies. Flung it into them and said, "Live."
The wrinkled flesh filled out. The dead eyes gleamed. The tattered clothing, mended itself. Dirt fell away from a long gingham dress. A woman with midnight hair, dark skin, and Magnus's startled eyes looked at me. They all looked at me. Twenty dead, all over two hundred years old, and they could have passed for human.
"My God," Larry whispered.
Even I was impressed.
"Very impressive, Ms. Blake." Stirling's voice was wrenching, as if he shouldn't have been there. He was a different part of reality from the near-perfect zombies. The fairie was out, but I'd do my job, for what good it would do any of us.
"Which of you is a Bouvier?"
There was a murmur of voices, most of them speaking French. Nearly all of them were Bouviers. The woman introduced herself as Anias Bouvier. She looked very alive.
"Looks like you'll have to move your hotel," I said.
"Oh, I don't think so," Stirling said.
I turned and looked at him.
He had a big shiny silver gun out. A nickel-plated .45. He held it like it was a movie, kind of out in front of him, waist-high. A .45 is a big gun; you don't hit much from a waist shot. Or that's the theory. With it pointed at us, I wasn't eager to try the theory.
Bayard was pointing a .22 automatic vaguely in our direction. It didn't look like he'd held a gun before. Maybe he forgot and left the safety on.
Ms. Harrison had a nickel-plated .38 pointed very steadily at me. She stood with her legs apart, balanced on her ridiculous high heels. She held the gun in a two-handed grip like she knew what she was doing.
I flashed on her face. Her eyes in her thick makeup were a little wide, but she was rock steady. Steadier than Bayard and a better stance than Stirling. I hoped Stirling paid her well.
"What's going on, Stirling?" I asked. My voice was even, but there was an edge of power to it. I was still riding the power, enough power to put the zombies back in the ground. Enough power to do a lot of things.
He smiled visibly in the bright reflected light. "You've released the creature; now we shall kill you."
"Why the hell do you care if Bloody Bones is out?" I saw the guns and still didn't know why.
"It came into my dreams, Ms. Blake. It promised me all the Bouvier land. All of it."
"The fey breaking out won't get you the land," I said.
"It will with Bouvier dead. The deed that got us this hillside will be found to include all the land, once there's no one to fight it."
"Even with Magnus dead, you won't get the land," I said, but my voice didn't sound so sure.
"You mean his sister?" Stirling said. "She'll die just as easily as Magnus."
My stomach was tight. "Her children?"
"Rawhead and Bloody Bones loves children best of all," he said.
"You son of a bitch." It was Larry. He took a step forward, and Ms. Harrison's gun swung to him. I grabbed his arm with my free hand. I still had the machete in my hand. Larry stopped, and the gun stayed on him. I wasn't sure that was an improvement.
Tension sang down Larry's arm. I'd seen him angry, but never like this. The power responded to that anger. The zombies all turned to us in a rustle of cloth. Their glittering eyes, so alive, were waiting for us.
"Move in front of us," I whispered. The zombies began walking towards us. The closest ones moved in front of us immediately. I lost sight of the gun-toting trio. Here was hoping they'd lost sight of us.
"Kill them," Stirling said, loud, almost a yell.
I started to drop to the ground, still holding Larry's arm. He resisted. Gunfire exploded around us and he kissed dirt, flat.
With the side of his face pressed to the ground, he said, "What now?"
Bullets were hitting the zombies. The bodies jerked and twitched. Some of the very alive faces stared down, alarmed as holes appeared in their bodies. But there was no pain. The panic was reflex.
Someone was yelling; it wasn't us. "Stop it, stop it. We can't do this. We can't just kill them."
It was Bayard.
"It is late for an attack of conscience," Ms. Harrison said. It may have been the first time I'd heard her voice. She sounded efficient.
"Lionel, you are either with me, or against me."
"Shit," I muttered. I wormed forward, trying to see what was happening. I pushed aside a billowing skirt just in time to see Stirling shoot Lionel in the stomach. The .45 gave out a booming sound and nearly jerked itself out of Stirling's hand, but he held on. From less than ten inches away, you could shoot nearly anything with a .45.
Bayard collapsed to his knees, looking up at Stirling. He was trying to say something, but no sound came out.
Stirling took the gun from Bayard's hand and put it in his own jacket pocket. He turned his back on Bayard and walked out onto the hard, dry soil.
Ms. Harrison hesitated, but she followed her boss.
Bayard fell onto his side with a dark flood draining out of him. His glasses reflected the moonlight, making him look blind.
Stirling and Ms. Harrison were coming in after us. Stirling pushed among the dead as if they were trees and he was wading through. The dead didn't move for him. They stood there like stubborn, fleshy barriers. I hadn't told them to move, so they wouldn't.
Ms. Harrison had stopped trying to force her way through. Moonlight glinted on her shiny gun as she used a zombie's shoulder to sight on us.
"Kill her," I whispered.
The zombie she was using as a sighting post turned towards her. She made an exasperated sound, and the dead closed on her.
Larry looked at me. "What did you tell them?"
Ms. Harrison was screaming now. High, frightened shrieks. She fired her gun again and again. It clicked empty. Slow, eager hands and mouths latched onto her body.
"Stop them," Larry said. He grabbed my arm. "Stop them."
I could feel the hands tearing bits of flesh from Ms. Harrison. Teeth sank into her shoulder, tore that tender neck, and I knew when blood flowed into that mouth.
Larry was along for the ride. "Oh, God, stop it!" He was on his knees pulling at me, begging.
Stirling hadn't fired a shot. Where was he?
"Stop," I whispered.
The dead froze like automatons, stopped in mid-action. Ms. Harrison slid to the ground in a moaning heap.
Stirling came in from one side, the big gun pointed very steadily at us, out in a two-handed grip like it was supposed to be held. He'd made his way behind us while the zombies worked over Ms. Harrison. He was standing nearly on top of us. It took a lot of nerve to come that close to the zombies.
Larry's fingers dug into my arm. "Don't, Anita; please don't." Even staring down the barrel of a gun, Larry stuck to his morals. Admirable.
"If you say a word, Ms. Blake, I will kill you."
I just stared up at him. I was so close to him I could have reached out and touched his pants leg. The .45 was pointed very solidly at my head. If he pulled the trigger, I was gone.
"Careless of you not to have the zombies attack both of us."
I agreed with him, but all I could do was stare up at him. I still had the machete in one hand. I tried not to tighten my grip on it. Not to draw attention to it.
I must have made some betraying motion because he said, "Take your hand away from the knife, Ms. Blake, slowly."
I didn't do it. I stared up at him and his gun.
"Now, Ms. Blake, or..." He thumbed back the hammer on the gun. Not necessary but always dramatic.
I let go of the machete.
"Hand away from it, Ms. Blake."
I moved my hand away. I didn't move away from him and the gun. I wanted to, but I made myself be still. A few inches wouldn't make the gun less deadly, but it might make a big difference if I tried to jump him. Not my first choice, but if we ran out of other options... I wouldn't go down without a fight.
"Can you lay these zombies to rest, Mr. Kirkland?"
Larry hesitated. "I don't know."
Good boy. If he'd said no, Stirling might have killed him. If he'd said yes, he'd have killed me.
Larry let go of my arm and moved just a little away from me. Stirling's eyes flicked to him, back to me, but the gun barrel never wavered. Damn.
Larry was on his knees, still moving away from me, forcing Stirling to keep an eye on both of us. The .45 moved an inch from the center of my forehead, towards Larry. I took a breath and held it. Not yet, not yet... If I tried something too soon, I'd be dead.
Larry lunged for something on the ground. The .45 swung towards him.
I did two things at once. I slipped my left hand behind Stirling's leg and pulled, and I grabbed his groin with my right and shoved with all I was worth. I was doing the wrong thing to cause a lot of pain, but it tipped him over. He fell flat on his back with the gun swinging back towards me.
I'd hoped he'd drop the gun, or be slower. He didn't, and he wasn't. So I only had a split-second to decide whether to try to pull his privates out of his body, and cause as much pain as possible, or go for the gun. I went for the gun, not trying to grab it, but sweeping my hands into his arms. If I could control his arms, I could control the gun.
The gun went off. I didn't look. No time. Larry was either hit, or he wasn't. If he wasn't, I had to get that gun. Stirling's arms were on the ground, my hands keeping them there, but I had no leverage. He raised his arms off the ground, and I couldn't stop him. I shoved my feet into the ground and forced his arms over his head, but it had become a wrestling match now, and he outweighed me by sixty pounds.
"Drop the gun." Larry's voice behind me. I couldn't look. Couldn't take my attention from the gun. We both ignored him.
"I will shoot you," Larry said.
That got Stirling's attention. His eyes flicked to Larry; for just a moment his body hesitated. I kept my grip on his wrists and shoved myself forward, up his body. I dug my knee into his groin, trying to reach the ground through him. He let out a strangled cry. His hands spasmed.
I moved my hands up and touched the gun. His grip tightened. He wasn't letting go.
I came up beside Stirling's arms and braced his arms against my hip. I pulled the arm against my body, just one quick movement, and snapped his arm at the elbow. The hand went numb, and the gun fell into my hand.
I crawled away from him, the gun in one hand.
Larry was standing over us with a gun pointed at Stirling. Stirling didn't seem to care. He was rocking back and forth over the ground, trying to cradle both injuries at once.
"I had a gun. You could have just moved away from him," Larry said.
I just shook my head. I trusted Larry to shoot Stirling. I just hadn't trusted Stirling not to shoot Larry. "I had my hands on the gun. Seemed a shame to let it go," I said.
Larry pointed the gun at the ground, but kept a nice two-handed grip on it. "It's yours; you want it?"
I shook my head. "Keep it until we get to the car."
I looked up at the zombies. They were watching me with calm eyes. There was blood on the mouth of the dark-haired woman. It had been her teeth that tore into Ms. Harrison's neck.
Ms. Harrison was lying very still on the ground. Passed out, at the very least.
The power was beginning to unravel at the edges. If I was going to put everybody back in the ground, it had to be now.
"Go back into the ground. Back to your graves. Go back, all of you, go back."
The dead walked upon the earth, moving among one another like children in a game of musical chairs. Then one by one they lay down upon the earth, and it swallowed them like water. The earth moved and buckled in waves, until they were all tucked out of sight.
There were no bones protruding from the earth. The earth was smooth and soft, as if the entire top of the mountain had been dug up and smoothed over.
The power shredded, flowing back into the ground, or wherever the hell it came from. We had to get down to the Jeep and start making phone calls. There was a rampaging fey on the loose. We at least had to get cops out to the Bouviers' place.
Larry knelt beside Ms. Harrison. He touched her neck. "She's alive." His hand came away stained with blood.
I looked at Stirling. He'd stopped rolling around and was just sort of huddled on his side, his arm held at an obscene angle. The look he gave me was part pain and part hate. If he ever got a second chance, I was dead.
"Shoot him if he moves," I said.
Larry got to his feet and pointed the gun dutifully at Stirling.
I went to check on Bayard. He lay on his side, half-crumpled around the wound in his belly. A wide black circle showed where his blood had soaked into the thirsty ground. I knew dead when I saw it, but I knelt on the far side of his body so I could keep an eye on Stirling. It wasn't that I didn't trust Larry. I just didn't trust Stirling.
There was no pulse in his neck. The skin was already cooling in the soft spring air. It hadn't been an instant death. Lionel Bayard had died while we were fighting. He'd died alone, and he'd known he was dying, and that he'd been betrayed. It was a bad way to die.
I stood up and looked at Stirling. I wanted to kill him for Bayard, for Magnus, for Dorrie Bouvier, for her kids. For being a heartless son of bitch.
He'd witnessed me using zombies as a weapon. Using magic as a killing weapon was punishable by death. Self-defense was not an acceptable plea.
I stared very calmly across at Stirling and the unconscious Ms. Harrison, and realized that I could have crossed that ground and put a bullet in both of them, and slept just fine.
Sweet Jesus.
Larry glanced my way, gun still steady, but he'd taken his eyes off Stirling for a second. Not fatal, tonight, but I'd have to break him of it. "Is Bayard dead?"
"Yeah." I started back towards them, wondering what I was going to do. I didn't think Larry would let me shoot them in cold blood. Part of me was glad. Part of me wasn't.
Wind blew against my face. There was a rustling sound in the wind, like that made by trees or cloth. There were no trees on top of this mountain. I turned with the big .45 in a two-handed grip, and Janos was just there, on the edge of the mountain. Staring at his skeletal face, I think I stopped breathing. He was dressed all in black; even his hands were hidden inside black gloves. For one wild moment he looked like a floating skull. "We have the boy," he said.
Chapter 35
The crosses were still in plain sight. They glowed with a soft white radiance. No burning light, not yet. We weren't in active danger, but the cross grew warm even through my shirt.
Janos put a hand in front of his eyes, the way I would guard my eyes from the sun in the car. "Please put those away, so we may talk."
He hadn't asked us to take them off. I could live with tucking my cross in my shirt. It could come out again later. I spilled the chain back down my shirt one-handed, keeping the .45 ready. I realized then that I didn't know if the gun had silver ammo. Now was not the time to ask. Stirling would probably lie anyway.
Larry slipped his own cross out of sight. The glowing night was just a little dimmer.
"Alright, now what?" I asked.
Kissa came up behind him, Jeff Quinlan in front of her like a shield. His glasses were gone, and he looked even younger without them. She had his arm behind his back, at an angle that could be painful with just a tug.
He was wearing a cream-colored tuxedo with a cummerbund done two shades darker to match the bow tie. Kissa was in black leather. Jeff stood out against her in wonderful contrast.
I swallowed; my pulse threatened to choke me. What was going on? "You alright, Jeff?"
"I guess so."
Kissa gave a little tug.
He winced. "I'm okay." His voice was a little higher than it should have been. a little scared.
I held out my hand to him. "Come here."
"Not yet," Janos said.
I'd tried. "What do you want?"
"First drop your guns."
"If we don't?" I thought I knew the answer, but I wanted him to say it.
"Kissa will kill the boy, and you will have done all this for nothing,"
"Help me," Stirling said. "She's mad. She attacked Ms. Harrison with zombies. When we tried to defend ourselves, she nearly killed us."
That was probably what he'd say in court, too. And a jury would believe him. They'd want to believe him. I would be the big, bad zombie queen, and he would be the innocent victim.
Janos laughed, his paper-thin skin threatening to split, but never quite doing it. "Oh, no, Mr. Stirling, I watched from the darkness. I saw you murder the other man."
Fear flashed across his face. "I don't know what you mean. We hired him in good faith. He turned on us."
"My master opened your mind to Bloody Bones. She freed him to whisper in your dreams about land, money, and power. All that you desire."
"Serephina sent Ivy to kill me, or rather for me to kill her. So she'd be sure to have Bloody Bones free," I said.
"Yes," he said. "Serephina told her she had to rid herself of the disgrace of losing to you."
"By killing me."
"Yes."
"What if she'd succeeded?"
"My master had faith in you, Anita. You are death come among us. A breath of mortality."
"Why'd she want the thing freed?" I seemed to be asking that a lot tonight.
"She wishes to taste immortal blood."
"This is all sort of elaborate for a little extra kick in your food."
He gave another rictus grin. "You are what you eat, Anita. Think upon it."
I did, and my eyes widened. "She thinks by drinking immortal blood, she'll be truly immortal?"
"Very good, Anita."
"It won't work," I said.
"We shall see," he said.
"What do you get out it?" I asked.
He cocked his skeletal head to one side, like a decaying bird. "She is my master, and she shares her bounty."
"You want immortality, too?"
"I want power," he said.
Great. "And it doesn't bother you that the thing will kill children? That it's already killed some?"
"We feed, Bloody Bones feeds, what does it matter?"
"And Bloody Bones is going to just let you feed off it?"
"Serephina has found the spell that Magnus's ancestor used. She controls the fairie."
"How?"
He shook his head and smiled. "No more delays, Anita. Drop the gun, or Kissa will taste him before your eyes."
Kissa ran a hand through Jeff's short hair, a caressing gesture. It pushed his head to one side, baring a long smooth line of neck.
"No!" Jeff tried to pull away, and Kissa yanked on his arm hard enough that he cried out.
"I will break the arm, boy," she growled.
The pain held him immobile, but his eyes were wide and terrified. He looked at me. He wouldn't plead, no begging, but his eyes did it for him.
Kissa's lips pulled back from her teeth in a flashy snarl, fangs visible.
"Don't," I said, and hated it. I tossed the .45 to the ground. Larry threw my gun down. Disarmed twice in one night. It was a record even for me.
