Fet was slashing and hacking, shielding his face and eyes from the books being thrown at him.
Eph turned and sidestepped the vampire that was nearly upon him, driving his blade through its throat. Another two appeared at the door. Eph made ready to fight them off when he was struck hard by a blow across his left ear. He turned with his flashlight beam and found another vampire standing astride the stacks, hurling books at him. Eph knew then that he had to get out of there.
As he cut down the oncoming pair of sacrificial strigoi, Eph saw Mr. Quinlan streak across the rear of the room. Mr. Quinlan shouldered the book-wielding nuisance off the stacks, launching the vampire across the room—then stopped. He turned in Fet’s direction, and, seeing this, so did Eph.
He watched Fet’s broad blade slice into another wilding vampire—just as the Master descended from the stacks above him, landing behind Fet. Fet was aware of the Master, somehow, and tried to turn and slash at it. But the Master gripped Fet’s backpack, pulling down sharply. The pack slipped back to Fet’s elbows, pinning his arms behind him.
Fet could have shaken free, but that would have meant relinquishing his pack. Mr. Quinlan leaped down off the book stack, racing at the Master. The Master used the thick, sharp nail of its talon-like middle finger to sever the padded shoulder straps, cutting the pack away from Fet even as Fet fought for it. Fet turned and lunged at the Master, and at his pack, with no regard for himself. The Master caught him one-handedly and hurled him—as easily as a book—directly at Mr. Quinlan.
Their collision was violent and loud.
Eph saw the Master with the book bag in hand. Nora faced him now, from the end of her row, standing before him, sword out. What Nora could not see—but the Master and Eph could—were two female vampires racing along the tops of the stacks behind her.
Eph yelled to Nora, but she was transfixed. The Master’s murmur. Eph yelled again, even as he moved, running sword-first at the Master.
The Master turned, deftly anticipating Eph’s attack—but not Eph’s aim. Eph sliced not at the Master’s body, but at the severed strap of the pack itself, just below the Master’s grip. He wanted the Lumen. He clipped the dangling strap and the bag dropped to the library floor. Eph’s momentum took him past the dodging Master—and the action was enough to break Nora’s trance. She turned and saw the strigoi above her, about to strike. Their stingers lashed out, but Nora’s silver sword kept them at bay.
The Master looked back at Eph with ferocious disgust. Eph was off balance and vulnerable to attack—but Mr. Quinlan was getting back on his feet. The Master scooped up the bag of books before Eph could and raced to the rear door.
Mr. Quinlan was up. The Born looked back at Eph, just for a moment, then turned and rushed out the door after the Master. He had no choice. They had to have that book.
Gus chopped at the bloodsucker running at him through the basement, hitting it again before it went down. He ran upstairs to the classroom where Joaquin was and found him lying atop the desk with his head on a folded blanket. He should have been deep in a narcotic sleep, but his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
Gus knew. There were no obvious symptoms—it was too early for that—but he could tell that Mr. Quinlan was right. A combination of the bacterial infection, the drugs, and the vampire sting had Joaquin in a stupor.
“Adios.”
Gus did away with him. One swift chop of his sword, and then he stood staring at the unholy mess he had made
until the noises from the building stirred him back into action.
The helicopter had returned outside. He heard gunfire and wanted to get out there. But first he ran back into the underground passages. He attacked and slaughtered two unlucky vampires who intervened on his way to his power room. He broke all of his batteries off their chargers, dumping them into a bag with his lamps and his night scopes.
He was alone now—truly alone. And his hideout was blown.
He strapped one Luma lamp to his free hand and readied his sword and set off to fuck up some bloodsuckers.
Eph made his way to a flight of stairs, looking for an exit. He had to get outside.
A door gave way to a loading area and the humid coolness of the night air. Eph switched off his flashlight, trying to orient himself. No vampires, not at the moment. The helicopter was somewhere on the other side of the library, over the quad. Eph started off toward the maintenance garage, where Gus stored his larger weapons. They were vastly outnumbered, and this hand-to-sword combat worked in the Master’s favor. They needed more firepower.
As Eph ran from building to building, anticipating attacks from any direction, he became aware of a presence racing along the rooftops of the campus buildings. A creature following him. Eph caught only glimpses of a partial silhouette, but that was all he needed. He was certain he knew who it was.
As he approached the garage, he noticed a light on inside. That meant a lamp, and a lamp meant a human. Eph ran up to the entrance, close enough to see that the garage door was open. He saw the tricked-out silver grille of a vehicle, Creem’s yellow Hummer backed inside.
Eph had believed Creem to be long gone. Eph turned the corner and saw Creem’s unmistakable barrel-shaped shadow, loading tools and batteries into the rear of the vehicle.
Eph moved quickly but silently, hoping to sneak up on the much larger man. But Creem was on high alert, and something made him spin around, confronting Eph. He grabbed Eph’s wrist, immobilizing his sword arm, then flattened Eph against the Hummer.
Creem got right up in Eph’s face, so close Eph could smell the dog treats on his breath, could see the crumbs still stuck in his silver teeth. “Did you think I was going to be outplayed by some white-bread fuckup with a library card?”
Creem reared back his massive hand, forming a silver-knuckled fist. As he brought it forward toward Eph’s face, a thin figure ran at him from the front of the car, hooking his arm, driving the bigger Creem back toward the rear of the garage.
Eph came off the Hummer coughing for air. Creem was fighting off the intruder in the shadows of the back. Eph found his flashlight, turning it on.
It was a vampire, snarling and scratching at Creem, who was able to hold his own only because of the repellent silver bling on his fingers and the thick silver chains around his neck. The vampire hissed and weaved, slashing with its long talon finger at Creem’s thigh, cutting him, the pain such that the top-heavy Creem collapsed under his own weight.
Eph raised his flashlight beam to the vampire’s face. It was Kelly. She had saved him from Creem because she wanted Eph for herself. The flashlight reminded her of this, and she snarled into its brightness, leaving the wounded Creem and starting toward Eph.