Night Huntress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #5)
Page 35I handed the phone over to Fraale. “Give her the address, please.”
“It’s 23585 Forsythia. Smaller greenish gray house set back a little ways. Be careful about the yard—it’s booby-trapped—so stick to the walkway.” She handed the phone back to me.
“Got it?” I asked, glanced out the window at the side mirror. So far, no sign we were being followed, but that didn’t count for shit. There were too many ways for vamps and demons to travel.
“Yeah, got it,” Camille said. “Vanzir’s here, I’m bringing him with us. We need every hand on deck for this one, and he’ll just have to take his chances that Karvanak won’t catch him. Not the best idea but I’m also . . .” Here, she dropped her voice and I knew she didn’t want to be overheard. “I’m going to order him to—if he thinks he’s about to be caught—kill himself.”
I stared at the night as it passed by. The moon was on her way to dark, and the night seemed like one long hush at the graveside. “Yeah, that’s probably best,” I said after a moment. “You think we’ll ever live a normal life again, Camille?”
She let out a strangled laugh. “Oh my Kitten, we could walk up a stairway to the stars and never find normal again. No, I’m afraid that we’re stuck in the nightmare. And you know what? That’s okay, because our lives have meaning. And in this world with so much senseless anger and violence, I think we should be proud to carry the burdens we do. We’re making an impact. At least, we have to keep telling ourselves that. Now, be careful, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
As the phone went dead, I looked back out into the night. As Menolly deftly swerved through the streets, driving us toward whatever disaster next awaited, the clouds parted for a moment, just long enough to let me look at the stars. They were beautiful, cold and stark against the velvet night. At least something would last forever, I thought. In this world of anger, of hatred, of insanity, at least the stars were—for all intents and purposes—eternal.
CHAPTER 26
Forsythia Street was tucked away in the Industrial District, cloistered from the main drag so you’d never know it was there unless you were looking for it. Before she turned right onto the street, Menolly flipped off the headlights and Camille’s silver Lexus truly became a shadow in the night, ghostly and silent. We glided slowly down the street before Menolly parked a few houses down from where Fraale indicated the house was.
“I’d rather not park directly in front of the house,” she said. “Too much chance for the car to be targeted and destroy our getaway.” Menolly climbed out of the driver’s seat and tucked the keys in her coat pocket, then zipped it shut. “Let’s go. We want to get in there and out before Karvanak arrives home.”
Karvanak. I shuddered. The more I learned about the demon, the more my stomach turned when his name was mentioned. Fraale’s last comment about the servant who pissed him off had stuck in my mind, and I couldn’t get the image out of my thoughts. And yet, I was part cat—and I’d killed as a cat. In hunger as well as from my basic nature. But this—this was spite. Pure spite. Surely, whatever she’d done, Karvanak’s servant couldn’t have been that out of line.
“What are we facing in there?” I asked. “Any demons other than the Rāksasa?”
“Bloatworgles for sure. Several of them. A few full-grown venidemons. And I know he’s got a few human warriors, too. There are some servants, but most of them are runaways he’s picked up at the bus station and put to work or uses for his fun. They’ll run the other way, hoping to escape.”
“You can’t help your nature, Fraale,” Roz said. “But nothing you’ve ever done remotely resembles the hellhole that Karvanak has carved out for his victims.” His voice sounded wistful as he added, “Don’t ever compare yourself to him. You can’t even begin to believe you’re as bad as he is.”
Fraale gave him an icy stare. “And just how would you know what I’ve been up to the past three hundred years? For all you know, I could be a raving lunatic who decided to play mass murderer. We’ve seen each other exactly four times since the gods chose to destroy our lives, Rozurial. And not once—not one time in all the centuries that have passed—have you ever thought to ask me how I’m coping with this. You always make up some excuse and hightail it out of my sight as soon as you can.”
Rozurial bared his teeth. “Leave our life together where it belongs—in the past. There’s no turning back. Regrets will only poison what memories we shared. I loved you when we were married, and I loved you after that bitch Hera transformed you. I wept as you changed. And I wept when Zeus did the same to me. But you know, as well as I do, that it never would have worked—not with what we were becoming. I cried until all the tears were washed away and there was only a hollow void.”
Fraale’s face twisted. “And then you left me. You left me alone.”
“I had to. To save you. To save me. To protect what we had together.” Roz sagged against the car. “Surely you can see why we had to move on. And this conversation only proves why we can’t be near each other. Too many memories, too many regrets, and too much anger. I couldn’t save you then, and I can’t save you now.”
She stared at him. I thought she was going to try again. I thought for sure she’d pull out the love card and play it. And how could he resist her tears and her heartbreak? But after a moment, she just shook her head and turned toward the house.
“You’re right. The gods won, and we lost,” she said softly. “Let’s get this over with, because the sooner we do, the sooner I can get the hell out of here. And I’d like to leave knowing I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder, wondering if Karvanak is going to come creeping up behind me to slit my throat.”
She glanced at Menolly and, in a hostile tone, said, “It’s obvious how he feels about you, but watch your heart. He’s an incubus. He’ll never be able to love anyone again without hurting them in the end. Incubi are born to fuck you, then walk out the door. And so are my kind. We’re all just users.”
Menolly wisely held up her hands. “Hey, color me Switzerland. I’m not involved in this,” she said softly. “Whatever you think is going on between Roz and me, isn’t. All I want to do is get in there and rescue Delilah’s boyfriend before he ends up as cube steak on Karvanak’s menu.”
Fraale frowned, then shrugged. “Let’s get a move on. Karvanak’s bound to be on his way here.”
“Should we wait for Camille and the others?” Zach asked, quietly touching me on the shoulder.
I shook my head. “We can’t afford to stand around waiting. We’re going to have to start this fight all by our lonesome and hope to hell it doesn’t blow up before they get here. I just wish I wasn’t wearing this crap. It’s not going to provide a whole hell of a lot of protection.” I tugged at the leg of my lamé pants.
The house was gray green, all right, and three stories tall, looking altogether way too much like the Munsters’ mansion on Mockingbird Lane. But instead of the jaunty Herman, we were facing a ball-busting Karvanak.
“Where is he? What floor is Chase on?” As I stared at the place, it suddenly hit me full force.
Chase was in there. He was scared, with a mangled finger. The gods only knew what else they’d done to him. And we were the only hope he had. I sucked in a deep breath and started up the walk, remembering what Fraale had said about booby traps. Menolly and the others followed.
“I think he’s in the basement. What better place to keep a prisoner you don’t want escaping?”
“Guards?” I cracked my knuckles, gearing up for the fight.
She shook her head. “Just what I told you: bloatworgles, venidemons, and some FBHs. That’s enough, I guess.”
“Yeah, and more than I want to deal with. Damned bloatworgles are hard to kill. I found that out a few days ago.” As we neared the door, I called back to Fraale, “The door? Booby-trapped? Rigged?”
“Not that I know of,” she said.
“Good! That’s enough for me.” I ripped the screen door off its hinges, then landed a heavy blow with my foot to the doorknob. The latch broke, and I slammed the door wide. Fraale’s pale tears had hit me in the gut. Rozurial had let his love slip away, had turned his back on her. The odds against them were overwhelming, and he’d caved and let the gods win. I wasn’t about to do that to Chase. Not until I knew he wanted out for good. If he did, I’d step aside gracefully. If not, we’d find some way to make it work.
I pushed into the living room, which was expensively—though gaudily—furnished. The others crowded in behind me and immediately spread out.
“Where’s the basement?” I asked but stopped short when three big, burly, fully leathered men stepped into the room. They didn’t look magical, but looks could be deceiving. They were carrying swords that emanated a faint bluish glow. Enchanted blades. Good for controlling creatures like the venidemons, where guns might be useless. Also good for hacking off arms and legs.
I sucked in a deep breath and—oh shit! My knife! I didn’t have my knife. I’d left it at home! How could I have—
“Kitten! Catch!”
I whirled as Camille, Morio, and Vanzir tumbled into the room.
I caught the dagger by the hilt and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Love you, too, babe! Let’s get on with it!”
The men raced toward us, their eyes glinting with a perverse delight. I knew it was a perverse delight because I recognized the feeling and the look. My own adrenaline was pumping as I leapt forward, wishing to hell for jeans and a tank. But all thoughts of clothing were swept away as I entered the fray.
On my left, Roz wielded a nasty-looking serrated blade in one hand. On my right, Menolly moved in on one of the bikers, her fangs out and eyes glowing. As we engaged the three men, I could hear Morio tell Camille, “Rope it in—save the magic. They can take care of those three, and we’ll need all our powers for Karvanak.”
And then I was into the fray. My opponent’s blade was long and curved and spattered with blood. As I raised my dagger and braced against his blow, I wondered how many men he’d killed. How many women? I put my weight behind my blade and shoved, knocking him back. He stumbled but caught himself and swung low. I leapt, playing jump rope with the sword as it passed beneath my feet. The next moment, I did a Bruce Lee and flipped over his head, landing behind him, my dagger at the ready.
He jerked around, startled. I took advantage of his confusion and leapt again, this time spinning to kick him solidly in his sword arm with my stiletto. The heel pierced his leather, pierced his skin, sank deep into the muscle.
Oh shit! My heel was caught in the tissue of his arm, and I couldn’t pull loose. I shook my foot, ripping a long, jagged gash in his arm as I did so, and he let out a scream that echoed through the room. As he jerked away, I managed to free my boot and stumbled, rolling into a somersault, coming up into a squat.
“Bitch! Bitch!” My opponent was obviously in pain. He was losing it, and I aimed to drive him over the edge. One bit of battle wisdom: Push an adversary too far, and they often lose sight of common sense and make mistakes.
A slow smile spread across my face as I stood, tapping my blade against my hand. “Come on, baby. You gonna let yourself get whipped by a pussycat?” With a smirk, I blew him a kiss. “I’d offer to blow you, but your dick’s gotta be smaller than my little finger and I just don’t do shrimps.”
Oh yeah, that did it. He came at me full-tilt, roaring as he raised his sword over his head, leaving his torso open to attack.
One thing about berserker rage, I thought, it can make a grown man incredibly stupid. I hauled back and sent my dagger singing through the air, to land right in his heart. As I danced away, he suddenly realized he wasn’t going anywhere anymore. He lost his grip on his sword, and it tumbled to the floor behind him. He glanced down at his chest, at the blood burbling out from around the dagger’s point, then at me, looking confused.
The coppery scent of blood filled my nostrils, making me salivate. As quickly as stepping through a doorway, I could feel her there, aware and awake; Panther wanted off the chain. The man was close to dying, and the Death Maiden in me reveled as he slipped away.
I grabbed my dagger, yanking it out of his chest as he started to topple forward. His gaze locked on mine, and I saw the shock and the bewilderment that accompanied whatever last thoughts had run through his mind. And then, just like that, he lurched to the ground and lay still. He was dead.