Part 15 (2/2)

Vanquished. Nancy Holder 66060K 2022-07-22

”Vampires don't breathe,” Noah said.

Dr. Sherman smiled, exposing wicked-looking fangs. ”They don't have to. Infection will take place at a sub-molecular level. They can try to block it, but we're kicking out potential blocking agents one by one.”

”You're creating an antidote?” Noah asked.

The vampire shook his head. ”No. That was my condition for working on it, and my handlers agreed.”

Noah c.o.c.ked a brow. ”But you'll die too.”

Sherman shrugged. ”I can't risk it getting into the wrong hands.”

Noah thought about Jenn. She would have argued with the man, for the sake of Antonio, but the doctor was right. When it came to something like this, you wanted all your exits closed off.

Nodding, Noah gave the man a salute. ”When?” he asked.

”Soon. I know it'll work. I just want to make sure it works perfectly,” Sherman said. Then his eyes ticked to a place behind Noah. ”But I'm not sure you'll have a chance to tell anyone that help is on the way.”

Noah spun and came face-to-face with Greg, the leader of the black crosses. Their paths had crossed the night Greg had forced Team Salamanca at rifle point to stand down from their self-appointed mission to expose Solomon's treachery at his press conference with the president.

”So now you know what we've been trying to create, what we've been protecting,” Greg said quietly.

”It's fantastic,” Noah said, scanning the s.p.a.ce behind Greg. There was no one else with him, at least not inside the room. How many were gathered outside? ”We'll win the war.”

”Yes. So you have to understand, there are a lot of folks-even in our government-who want us stopped.”

”You can count on the support of Team Salamanca,” Noah said steadily.

”I believe that's true,” Greg said. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and the hair on the back of Noah's neck raised on end. It wasn't a good smile. Noah himself had given that smile on more than one occasion. He slid his hand into the back of his waistband and let his fingers close around the knife he had concealed there.

”What would you like us to do to help?” Noah asked, stalling for time.

Greg's demeanor didn't change. ”Thanks, but the best answer is 'nothing.' We can't risk tipping the vampires off in any way. Jenn and the rest of you provide a great distraction, a place for the Cursed Ones to focus all their energy. We need you all to be able to continue exactly as before.”

Noah nodded.

”Which means I can't let you leave this facility,” Greg said.

Noah swung his left arm, and Greg blocked it easily, but missed Noah's right arm swinging in low with the knife. Noah felt the knife slide into Greg's flesh, piercing his side, missing the major organs but dropping the man to the ground. Blood pooled everywhere. Noah let go of the knife and leaped over the body, jamming his stolen ID badge through the reader. The door slid open, and he blinked in shock to see no troops waiting for him on the other side.

But from the corridor to his left he heard the sound of running feet. So he took off to the right.

He had to warn the others about what was coming.

If he could make it out alive.

ENGLAND.

JAMIE.

Jamie's bike went through the block of stone, and suddenly he was in a tunnel, the walls barely visible and no light revealing any end, madly trying to slow down as he burst into victorious laughter. He swore every good curse he knew as he throttled down, aware that he had yet to confirm if friend or foe had created this magickal illusion. The scrying stone was so hot by then that as soon as he stopped the bike and leaped off, he dug in his pocket, grabbed the stone, and tossed it to the ground. Blisters rose instantly on his fingers. He grabbed the Uzi and whirled in a circle, such a mess of adrenaline, terror, and relief that he knew he had no real hope of using it.

”Jamie!” a girl shrieked, and he knew her for Skye.

Then out of the darkness the little witch flew, in a white robe with golden spangles, her dreadlocks gone and her blond hair plaited down her back like a medieval princess. ”Don't shoot me!” she shouted.

He had time to lift the Uzi from around his neck as she threw herself into his arms and showered his face with kisses. Kissing for joy wasn't much his thing, but he let her do it, laughing again, and grabbed her and whirled her in a circle.

”How did you find me?” she cried.

Then his street education rea.s.serted itself, and he eased her away. He crouched behind the fallen bike and pointed the weapon in the direction he had come, seeing only blackness.

”I was followed,” he said. ”Magicians or wizards or witches or something. On motorcycles. Four.”

”Oh, G.o.ddess.” Her giddiness evaporated, and she crouched down beside him. She began to murmur a spell.

”That better be a fighting spell,” he said. ”It's your ex, ain't it.” It wasn't a question. ”I shot one of them. I hope it was him.”

She sucked in her breath but went on with her spell casting. Jamie kept his Uzi sighted. ”Is there an escape route? Where are we?” The order of his questions didn't matter if she could take the time to answer them.

Murmuring still-sounded like Latin-she tapped him on the shoulder. She had conjured up a little ball of glowing light above her upturned palm. She darted into the blackness, and he had no reasonable choice but to follow her.

She was a d.a.m.ned gazelle as he stumbled along, tired from his ride, legs shaking from all the adrenaline. Everything in him wanted to stand his ground and prepare for an attack. If it was her ex, then from what Jamie knew he was a magick user of the first water, more powerful than Skye. He wondered how she'd escaped him. Or if she'd escaped him.

”Skye,” he began. She pointed over her shoulder, and he looked.

There was a sc.r.a.ping sound, like the grating of stone on stone, and from either side of the tunnel they were in-he saw now that it had been carved out and reinforced with timber, the whole lot rickety and old-two hulking figures pulled themselves out of the rock: head, shoulders, torso, arms, legs. They were unfinished and lacking in detail, as if they were a child's clay creations. As they stepped out of the rock, they seemed to harden into moving statues. Then they stood side by side, enormous-seven feet, Jamie estimated-their backs to Skye and him.

She said, ”Defindite nos!” and the creatures took a mighty stride forward, toward the opening of the cavern.

”Come on, Jamie,” Skye said.

Street fighter that he was, Jamie knew better than to ask questions at the wrong time. Still, he kept firm hold of the Uzi as he trailed after her. Soon the two giants were lost to his field of vision. Then he heard a rumble, low and practically subsonic.

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