“Run!” he called again. I did, because I had a job to do. My ears closed against the noises of the battle behind me, I kept running up the shore, into the next stand of pines, around the next inlet. Roman had to be here. All of this—it had to be worth it.
Chapter 20
I RAN, LOPING, unthinking, for maybe a quarter of a mile into the next stand of trees, losing sight of the shore and water. I must have been right on the edge of the marked-out region on the map. Pausing, I steadied my breathing and took a breath of air. And smelled vampire, a chill that was more than just the weather, more than the temperature dropping at night.
That wind roared again, then came that stench, and the shout of a warrior about to make a kill. Ashtoreth pounded into the ground in front of me, landing in a three-point crouch before swinging back in a ready stance. It was like she’d leapt from there to here, wasting no time with something so mundane as running.
She was here, and just like before I wondered, did that mean Ben was safe now, or was he gone?
“Did you kill him?” I said, my voice choking. Her wicked smile seemed answer enough.
I didn’t expect an answer, just an attack, but she said, “You’ll never know. You can’t win this, you had to know that from the start.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m still here I guess.”
I dodged, thinking to avoid her, but she moved to block me. I went sideways—I could get to the water and swim to Roman if I had to. But she was there again. No matter how fast I was, no matter which way I tried to sprint, she barred the way.
I tried to double back, but when I broke from the trees she was there, stabbing downward with her spear, slashing with her sword. Wolfish instincts saved me. I pulled up, spun around, launched in the other direction—fast, supernaturally fast. Just fast enough to get away. Dirt pelted me from where the spear hit the ground, right behind my heel. The wind from the sword’s sweep tickled my neck.
She was behind me again. She was always right there, and she never got tired.
This was it, then. This realization that I probably wasn’t going to make it this time settled over me and lent me a strange sense of resolve. My body felt lighter, my running steps felt longer. I wasn’t going to survive this. That was okay, as long as I saved the world first. I just had to get the mirrored cross in front of Roman. Whatever happened after that didn’t matter. With only one goal to focus on instead of two—just getting to the water, not doing that and surviving—a new burst of energy filled me.
But I still had to get to the shore, and Ashtoreth was in front of me. I was long past thinking, I was only looking ahead and around for a new path, the next route, a possible solution.
A wind blew past me, a racing breeze—and a dark figure smacked Ashtoreth across the face with a staff. She fell back, dropped her spear, and snarled.
I stopped and blinked, confused.
Then it happened again.
Another shadow emerged from the woods and struck another blow while the demon was off balance, a jab to her lower back that made her grimace in pain. Her attention was entirely off me now.
The two figures moved with astonishing grace, slipping around Ashtoreth, always out of her reach, while smacking her with long black staves—not badly enough to drive her off, but enough to distract her. It was fascinating. The two were human, or at least human shaped, but they wore hoods and scarves around their faces, and their clothing was dark and shrouding.
What I could tell about them: they had the chill scen
t of vampires, they moved with the shadowy stealth of vampires, and they were warriors. Vampire ninjas. I stood in awe.
Then something happened. The attack changed. They stopped simply harassing the demon and moved on to what must have been the next step. Clearly they had a plan, a finely tuned and well-practiced one.
The first one produced a new weapon, or tool, or something. A hook with a wire line attached. The vampire got close, made a leap, stuck this hook into the leather of Ashtoreth’s vest, and pushed off to escape her counterblow. The wire trailed out—the other end was attached to a metal stake, which he—she? whatever?—drove into the ground. The second vampire did the same, hooking another line into her other side, pulling it taut, securing the stake.
Then they both did it again, and again. Hooks—big, iron-looking things with jagged barbs—dug into her belt, her back, her sleeves. Some of them might have dug into her skin. It was hard to tell, the vampires moved so fast, and Ashtoreth jerked and thrashed, trying to break free. Quick and efficient, the vampires staked down each of the wires until the demon was stuck. Tied down like a tent, with no give to her bonds and nowhere to go. She looked like a marionette, immobilized by her strings, pulled tight in all directions.
A third figure appeared. This one stepped into view, facing Ashtoreth, regarding her calmly. He didn’t attack, but somehow gave off every impression that he was just as dangerous as his companions. In a gloved hand he held a gold spear as tall as he was, with a wicked-looking point, barbed and filigreed. It looked like a harpoon.
The demon bared her teeth, closed her hands into fists, strained to break free and strike. But she flailed, a fish in a net.
The third figure slipped his hood back.
It was Rick.
I gasped, and clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from interrupting.
I didn’t think it had been that long since I’d seen him; then again, it felt like it had been years. Now he looked like someone who had stepped out of another world, gloved and cloaked, a character from a medieval epic, a burning determination in his eyes. He had a conquistador’s beard.
“Well,” he said to Ashtoreth. “Hello, again.”