Part 41 (2/2)

Marcone narrowed his eyes at me, then nodded once, and said something over his shoulder to one of the hired guns. ”Dresden, I would appreciate it if you would ask the sergeant to release my employee.”

”Murph,” I complained, ”can't you pick on someone your own size?” I took a second to admire Hendricks's expression, but said, ”We need him with his arm still attached.”

Murphy eased up on the pressure and then released Hendricks's arm. The big man eyed Murphy, rubbing his arm, but regained his feet and his enormous machine gun.

”Harry,” Thomas said, voice tight. ”We need to move.”

”Yeah,” I said. ”Thomas, Murphy, and...” We needed ma.s.s. ”Hendricks, with me.”

Hendricks checked that with Marcone, who nodded.

”Follow me,” I told them. ”Stay-What are you doing, Marcone?”

Marcone had accepted a weapon from one of his gunmen, a deadly little MAC-10 that could spew out about a berjillion bullets in a second or two. He checked it and clipped a strap hanging from it to a ring on his weapon harness. ”I'm going with you. And you don't have enough time to waste any more of it arguing with me about it.”

Dammit. He was right.

”Fine. Follow my lead and stay close. We're going to go round up Lord Raith and get him and everyone else we can out of here before-”

Marcone abruptly raised his shotgun and put a blast through one of the nearer fallen ghouls that had begun to move. It thrashed, and he put a second sh.e.l.l into it. The ghoul stopped moving.

That was when I noticed that the black ichor that spewed from the ghouls was on the ground...

... and it was moving.

By itself.

The black fluid rolled and ran like liquid mercury, gathering together in little droplets, then larger gobs. Those, in turn, ran over the floor-uphill, in some cases-back toward broken ghoul bodies. As I watched, bits of missing flesh ripped from the ghouls began to fill in again as the ichor returned to their bodies. The one Thomas had beheaded actually came crawling back over the floor, having regained some of the use of its legs. It was holding its head up against the stump of its neck with its one arm, and the ichor was flowing from both the severed head and the stump, merging, reattaching it. I saw the ghoul's jaws suddenly stretch, its eyes blink and then focus.

On me.

Holy c.r.a.p.

Time. We didn't have much time. If even the gutted and mangled ghouls could get back up again, there was no way the vampires were winning this one. The best they could hope for was to run-and when more vamps ran, more ghouls would be free to overwhelm us. Or possibly they'd do something even more disgusting than they already had, and we'd all puke ourselves to death.

”This just can't get much more disturbing,” I muttered. ”Follow me.”

I gripped my staff in both hands and charged ahead, into the ma.s.s of maddened vampires and ghouls, to save one monster from another.

CHAPTER Forty

I sprinted toward the little knot of struggling vampires around the White King, while dozens of uber-ghouls ripped into the leading families of the White Court. I slipped on some slimy ichor, but didn't fall on my a.s.s. For me, that's actually pretty good. sprinted toward the little knot of struggling vampires around the White King, while dozens of uber-ghouls ripped into the leading families of the White Court. I slipped on some slimy ichor, but didn't fall on my a.s.s. For me, that's actually pretty good.

I noted more details on the way, and started trying to think ahead of the next few seconds. a.s.suming we got to the White King in one piece and convinced Lara to team up and follow us, then what? What was the next step?

At least a dozen ghouls bounded out the tunnel, heading up that long slope to the cave's entrance. They'd be in a good position to stop Lara's mortal security forces from pus.h.i.+ng through the tunnel to rescue the King. Stopping a charge over open ground with firearms is one thing. Using a gun to charge a large, deadly, powerful predator in close quarters is a different proposition entirely-and not a winning one.

Naturally, the ghouls in the tunnel would also be in position to intercept anyone who tried to flee, which meant that we had had to leave through the gate, which meant that if Ramirez and Marcone's men lost it, we were screwed. And to leave through the gate, which meant that if Ramirez and Marcone's men lost it, we were screwed. And that that meant that if Cowl was over there and saw what was going on, he would hardly sit by doing nothing. meant that if Cowl was over there and saw what was going on, he would hardly sit by doing nothing.

I might be able to counter him if I were defending the gate. My skills aren't fine, but I'm pretty strong, and I'm good at adapting them on the fly. Cowl had cleaned my clock in two fights already, but slowing and delaying him wasn't the same as trying to wipe the walls with him. Even if I couldn't be a real threat to him, personally, I could tie him up long enough to hold the gate until we could skedaddle.

Ramirez couldn't. He was a dangerous combat wizard, but his skills just weren't strong enough or broad enough to pose a significant obstacle to Cowl. If Cowl-or Vitto, for that matter-saw what was going on, and the ghouls concentrated on the gate...

The shrieks and roars of the struggle on our right suddenly got louder, and I saw the resistance around Lord Skavis and his henchmen suddenly buckle. The horrible glee of the ghouls rus.h.i.+ng into the opening was almost more terrifying than the carnage that followed. I caught a glimpse of Vitto Malvora in the middle of the mess, shoving a ghoul toward a wounded vampire, snarling at others, giving orders. The largest of the ghouls were with Vitto.

”That vampire has the strongest and largest of those creatures with him!” Marcone called to me as we ran. ”He'll hit any pockets of resistance with them, use them as a hammer.”

”I can see that,” I snapped. ”Murphy, Marcone, cover our right. Hendricks, Thomas, get ready to go in.”

”Go in where?” Hendricks asked.

I took my staff in hand, focused on the fight raging around the White King, and called up my will and h.e.l.lfire. ”In the hole I'm about to make,” I growled. ”Get them out.”

”They're mostly... eating now. But the second we start to break them free,” Marcone cautioned from behind me, ”these others are going to come after us.”

”I know,” I said. ”I'll handle it.”

I felt something warm press up against my lower back-Murphy's shoulders. ”We'll make sure that-” Her voice broke off suddenly, and that boxy little submachine gun chattered in three quick bursts, punctuated by a single throaty roar from Marcone's shotgun. ”Holy c.r.a.p, that was close.”

”Another,” Marcone warned, and the shotgun blasted again.

The air horn in Justine's hand started blaring more desperately.

”Harry!” Thomas shouted.

”Go!” I shouted at Thomas and Hendricks. Then I leveled the staff at the nearest clump of the enormous ghouls and shouted, ”Forzare!” ”Forzare!”

My will lashed out, leashed to Lasciel's h.e.l.lfire, and rushed upon the ghouls, exploding in a sphere of raw force that blazed with flickers of sulfurous flame. It blew them up and outward like extras on the set of The A-Team, The A-Team, flying in high arcs. Some of them flew right through the falling curtain of water behind the throne and into the abyssal depths below. Others slammed hard into the nearest wall, and still others fell among the frenzied ghouls now finis.h.i.+ng off Lord Skavis and his retainers. flying in high arcs. Some of them flew right through the falling curtain of water behind the throne and into the abyssal depths below. Others slammed hard into the nearest wall, and still others fell among the frenzied ghouls now finis.h.i.+ng off Lord Skavis and his retainers.

Thomas and Hendricks charged forward. My brother had slipped his shotgun into a sheath over one shoulder, and now wielded his saber in one hand and that inward-bent knife in the other. The first ghoul he reached was still staggered from the blast that had sent his companions flying, and Thomas never gave him a chance to recover. The saber removed its arm, and a scything, upward-sweeping slash of the crooked knife struck its head from its shoulders. A vicious kick to the small of its back crunched into its spine and sent the maimed, beheaded creature flying into the next in the line.

Hendricks came in at Thomas's side. The big man could not possibly overpower one of the ghouls, despite all the muscle, but he did have an important factor on his side: ma.s.s. Hendricks was a huge man, three hundred pounds and more, and once I saw him hit the ghouls, I no longer had any doubts about whether he had played football. He hit an unbalanced ghoul in the back, knocking the creature sprawling, slammed the stock of the huge gun into the neck of a ghoul who turned to follow Thomas's motion, then ducked a shoulder and slammed it into the stunned creature's flank, sending it sprawling.

Thomas hacked down another ghoul, Hendricks powered through a single creature who never had the chance to set itself against his locomotive rush, and we were suddenly faced with a line of savage G.o.ddesses bathed in black blood.

Lara stood in the center, her white robes pressed against her skin, soaked in the dark fluids leaking from crushed and broken ghouls, and it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her hair, too, had been soaked flat to her skull, and it clung to the skin of her black-spattered cheek and to the lines of her dark-stained throat. In each hand she held a long, wavy-bladed knife, long enough to qualify as a small sword, though G.o.d only knew where she'd concealed the weapons before. Her eyes were chrome silver, wide and triumphant, and I jerked my gaze away from them as I felt a mad desire just to stare and see what happened.

In that moment, Lara was more than simply a vampire of the White Court, a succubus, pale and deadly. She was a reminder of days gone by, when mankind paid homage to blood-soaked G.o.ddesses of war and death, revered the dark side of the protective maternal spirit, the savage core of the strength that still allowed tiny women to lift cars off of their children, or to turn upon their tormentors with newfound power. Lara's power, at that moment, hovered around her, deadly in its primal seduction, its sheer strength. strength.

On either side of her stood two of her sisters, all of them tall, all of them beautiful, all of them gorgeous and soaked in gore, all of them armed with those wavy-bladed short swords. I didn't know any of them, but they stared at me with ravenous energy, with maddeningly seductive destruction spattered all over them, and it took me two or three seconds to remember what the h.e.l.l was going on.

Lara swayed a step toward me, all the motion in her thighs and hips, her eyes brilliant and steady, focused on me, and I felt a sudden urge to kneel that vibrated in my brain and... elsewhere. I mean, how bad could that be? Just think of the view from down there. And it had been a long long time since a woman had... time since a woman had...

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