Fabian strips but doesn’t turn into his wolf form, creating a distraction for the female part of the team, especially Dylan.
The rest of the way to the canyon, we ride in tense silence. Eventually, we arrive at the entrance where Felix left the robot before.
“Icelus are just through there,” Rowan whispers, pointing toward the smaller canyon.
“Is this close enough for you to take them over?” Valerian asks in a low voice.
“Should be,” she replies. “Can you make us invisible from here?”
“No,” he says. “But I don’t think we should get any closer.”
Rowan nods, and the grenade-carrying zombie rushes into the canyon. The rest of the zombies put down our platform, and we get our weapons ready, just in case.
Rowan’s brows furrow. “Percival is missing, but the rest of them are there.”
We survey the canyon we’re in. It’s big enough for someone to hide behind the rocks.
Our zombies scatter.
“I’m going to have them look for him,” Rowan explains.
“Don’t forget to throw the grenade,” Valerian says. “If you take over the newly formed vampires, you’ll have more resources to search for the missing Percival.”
“Already done,” she says. “They’re choking to death as we speak.”
A few minutes later, a squadron of vampires rushes out of the canyon—clearly under her control.
A shadow blots the sky for a second.
I look up sharply, expecting another bird, but it’s a person plummeting toward us.
“Percival!” I shout, pointing at him.
All heads tip back, following my gaze. They must be wondering the same thing I am: Where did he come from? Did he jump from the cliff above us? Or leap from behind a rock forty feet away?
In either case, Rowan wasn’t kidding.
These pre-vamps can jump.
I aim my gun and shoot.
I must’ve missed. Percival lands, his legs miraculously unbroken, and before anyone can so much as blink, he hurls something at Valerian and Rowan.
Rowan collapses, the mask in her hand rolling to the side.
The vampires she was controlling are blinking and shaking their heads in confusion.
Not good.
Valerian also hits the ground, his mask rolling away.
Puck!
I aim my gun just as Fabian shifts into his werewolf form. Swiftly, I change the setting to nonlethal; if I kill Percival, I’ll make yet another vampire for us to deal with.
I shoot.
I must miss again.
Percival hurls something at me just as Fabian’s claws swipe at his neck.
I feel a sharp prick in my neck, then blackness.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I come to my senses just as Fabian’s claws miss Percival’s neck. Either their fight has gotten repetitive, or whatever Percival used on me hasn’t taken effect.
I don’t have time to dwell on it long, though, because the newly made vampires are here and beginning their attack.
Four jump at me, and I swing my katana in wide circles to keep them at bay. One vampire from the core group leaps at Itzel but gets a lightning ball in his chest.
Two attack Ariel. She punches one, but that gives the second one a window—and he sinks his fangs into Ariel’s neck.
Puck, no.
Ariel drops to her knees, her skin paling with each pint of blood the vampire steals.
I slice at one of the vampires attacking me, and in the periphery, I spot a vampire ripping off an arm from Felix’s suit.
Felix’s shriek chills my blood. That metal arm must’ve contained his actual arm—no other way to explain the fountain of blood that gushes out of the broken suit.
This can’t be happening.
But it is. Another vampire punches a hole through Dylan’s chest, rips out her heart, and sucks it dry of blood.
The vampires attacking me get bolder, and I slash ever wider circles with my katana in a frantic effort to keep them away. My arms are tiring, though, and I don’t know how long I can keep this up.
Then I notice another horror in my periphery. Valerian is thrashing around, just like Stanislav did at the end. His skin is a deep purple with just a touch of red.
No. Please no. Anything but this.
I redouble my efforts against the vampires, even though my strength is waning with each second. I can’t let Valerian die. I refuse to. He has to live. He has to make it, even if I don’t. He can’t die so horribly, so—
A pitch-black Pom shows up between me and the vampire nearest me.
“You wanted me to interfere if there’s a nightmare,” he says, ears flopping. “Here I am. This is a bad one.”
I look at my wrist.
Pom’s not there.
But how?
Then it hits me. The thing that pricked my neck was an injector dart with that Koshmar drug. Of course. I saw Percival give a heap of these to Exozar. He obviously kept some for his own use.
In the heat of the battle, I didn’t recognize the cursed injectors for what they were.
A breath of relief whooshes out of my chest. Ariel and Dylan were not killed. Valerian didn’t go into the last stages of the virus, and Felix didn’t lose his arm—that was all a nightmare.