Standing in the middle of the blue flames, she struck out at the nearest black shape as it dove closer. Her blade went right through it, and a blast of frigid cold swept over her. Staggering back from the force of it, Victoria nearly fell into the blaze behind her.
She caught herself in time, using the tip of her sword, and looked back over at Max and Sebastian. They were gesturing to each other, and she couldn’t tell what they were doing.
A black shape swooped again, and Victoria watched for its eyes, measured, and struck again with her sword, aiming for the neck area.
Reaching up, her arms made a long, high arc, and the blade sliced into the black being. It disintegrated into a burst of smoke. Then another one, and another, swooped down harder and faster, stirring the calm air amid the flames.
One of them scored her arm and shoulder with its claws, and the other rushed over-and through her… God, through her!-sending her stumbling once again toward the flames. Cold shudders paralyzed her for a moment as Victoria collapsed to the ground. Her stomach pitched, and nausea trammeled through her, her muscles weakened and shivering. She struggled to breathe, fought to steady the dizziness that crushed her to the stone floor. Her fingers had loosened over the sword, and she had to focus hard, so hard , to close them again. The weight of the heavy hilt steadied her a bit, and she groped at her belly to touch the two vis bullae beneath her shirt.
Several long moments she lay still, hunched away from the swooping shadows, praying that neither Max nor Sebastian was foolish enough to try to join her. Especially Max, who acted as though he still wore the vis bulla .
The last thing they needed was for all of them to be trapped within this wall of flame.
When she was able to regain control of her movements, she raised her head and crawled back toward Wayren. Staying close to the ground, she looked beyond the flames and toward Max and Sebastian. They were foggy, but she saw that they were holding something up in their hands.
It looked like they each had a bottle. Holy water?
Sebastian shouted something, and Max made hand signals, and Victoria nodded back to them. She gathered up Wayren’s warm, limp body over her shoulder, staying as close to the ground as she could, and dodged another swoop of the black demons.
Max raised his fist and shook it… One… two… three.
The arms of the two men thrust out in unison. Victoria heard the sizzle and hush of the flames as they cowered low, yellow, and bright, and she launched herself into and through the path they’d made.
She crashed into Max, and they fell to the ground. Once again, she was back in the midst of the raging wind, where sound was drowned out and the force of the smoky fog battered at her.
Still holding on to Wayren, Victoria began to scramble toward the door, keeping the limp body cupped near her own.
Before she’d moved very far, however, strong hands pulled at her. Max’s face was there, suddenly, close to hers, and he gestured sharply with his head in the opposite direction.
She nodded, knowing that Max had an unerring sense of direction… and she didn’t. Suddenly Sebastian was there, too. The three of them huddled together over Wayren, protecting her, and, with Max leading the way, stumbled, clustered together, through the deafening, blinding, stinging storm.
The black shadows slung down low, gouging with very definite claws. One of them caught in her hair and pulled, nearly lifting her off the ground. It felt as though the top of her head would be torn off.
She cried out and released her hold on Wayren, grabbing at her own hair and trying to pull up her sword without slicing into her companions, but before she could do so, she felt Sebastian move next to her. Suddenly, her head was released, and she saw the angry curls of the disintegrating demon. Pain still screamed over her scalp, and she was certain half of her head was bald, but she had scarcely any time to recover before another swoop and the cut of sharp talons over her shoulders and along her back.
Max and Sebastian fared little better. They bumped and moved and struggled against each other, protecting Wayren as they tried to beat off the demonic creatures. Victoria found herself trying to shield Max as well. And she noticed, even in the blur of movement and muting fog, that he moved more slowly and heavily than she and Sebastian. She tried to stay close to him, protecting his back and shoulders from the swerving demon shadows.
Somehow, Max found his way to the levered door through which they’d come. Victoria tripped as they went through, catching her shoulder against the corner, and one of the horrible creatures slammed into her back.
She lost her hold on Wayren again, and felt the full force of the shadowy wraith push her very substantially into the stone wall. Her head slammed into stone, sending a ringing into her ears that squealed over and beyond the loud roar.
Someone pulled on her, and she stumbled along, suddenly aware of the warm liquid seeping through her clothing and the dripping on her arms making her hands slippery and sticky.
It was darker here, in the first chamber they’d entered-not because there was less of the glowing blue smoke, but because there were more of the horrible black shadows. They seemed to have multiplied. But Victoria and her companions moved on toward the door, compressed around Wayren.
At last they reached the outside entrance. They were so closely knit together that she felt Max’s movements as he reached for the door, pushing at it, and Sebastian close behind her. When he raised his arm with his own sword, he shifted against Victoria, and she felt the thrust, the arc of each movement. She was aware of the weight of Wayren, the warmth of her body, the silk of her hair, and the stone wall against her cheek…
And suddenly, they were falling through the open door, and the roaring noise softened, the musty stench of malice eased. The fog lessened, and the black shadows skittered up and away.
The door had opened. They were on the steps outside.
Five
In Which Max Takes the Long Road Home
Being outside did not wholly protect them from the heavy black shadows and the swooping, swirling mass of fog, but it tempered the ferocity of the storm contained by the small building. Brim and Michalas must have been waiting nearby, for as soon as Victoria and the others spilled out of the door, they helped pull them to their feet.
Yet, out here, the shadowy creatures with claws and burning eyes had more room to dive, with gouging fangs and grasping talons. One grabbed Victoria by the shoulders, lifting her feet from the ground. She relinquished her hold on Wayren, groping for her sword.
She sliced up and through the demon, feeling that nauseating cold again, but also finding her mark. As she fell back to the trampled grass, she looked up and saw the moon glinting through the roiling fog.
If they got out of the graveyard, they’d be safe. Or at least safer.
She hoped.
Max alone was holding Wayren now, bent over her, presenting his back to the threat above as Brim and Victoria battled back the demons.
If they could fight their way toward the gate… would the walls of the cemetery confine the demonic fog?
Sebastian and Michalas had the presence of mind to close the door of the mausoleum, and together they battled it shut. The wind eased, and the spill of shadows stopped, though a faint tendril of blue smoke curled stubbornly through a crack. The fog ebbed and quieted a bit so that they could at least see one another. Blood streamed down Brim’s cheek, and Sebastian had a long red welt over the side of his face.
“This way,” Victoria shouted, pushing at the hair caught in her mouth, and started toward the gate before the door could burst open. It shuddered and trembled.
The wind whipped up again as they reached the gate, and a billow of black engulfed them. Victoria heard the shriek and scream of its fury, and she turned to Brim. “Holy water!” she shouted.
As he ran, Brim dug deep into his coat and pulled out a bottle, and a large silver cross. The wind buffeted and whipped, sending another tree branch crashing onto the ground. The missile, which was as thick around as a man, barely missed slamming into Brim and just grazed his shoulder. He offered her the bottle, but she turned to Max, who still huddled over Wayren.
Victoria’s hair thrashed around her face like a weapon, and the gust of blackness nearly sent her into the wall. Something wet trickled down her cheek, and warmed her neck. She had to get Wayren out of here, and there was only one way to ensure her escape. She grabbed Max’s face and lifted it to look into his eyes. “Take her. Take Brim. Go. We’ll distract.”
She shoved him toward a sprawling bush, and he slid under it with his burden, but not before she saw the look he gave her. Be safe.
Brim joined him, armed with holy water, and Victoria, Sebastian, and Michalas began to inch away from the bush and the gate, battling at the evil forces.
Victoria didn’t know what sort of perception the malevolence had, but the swooping shadows, at least, seemed to be able to tell where to dive and strike. If they could at least draw their attention away, perhaps Brim and Max could slip out of the gate safely with Wayren.
Max watched Victoria slip away, her face streaked with blood, dark hair plastered in the sticky mess. The back of her shirt was dark with more blood and torn to shreds.
He forced his attention to Wayren, who’d stirred more than once in his arms, and looked over at Brim, who crouched next to him and for once didn’t appear to be enjoying the battle.
Wayren had to be taken away from the demons that drained her of her strength and power before it was too late. It was possible yet to save her, for she was already showing signs of life now that she’d been removed from captivity.
If Victoria’s plan to distract the demons by battling them worked, they’d have only a few moments to make a dash for the waiting horses, on the other side of the bent gate.
Max’s lips flattened. He knew why she’d chosen him to take Wayren. He was the weakest of the group, no longer protected by the vis bulla .
Victoria would never have tried to protect him before.
And she’d chosen Brim… who could not only sense vampires, but demons as well.
What a warrior-and a leader-she’d become.
Something pinched deep inside him. Anger, frustration. Self-pity.
Then he realized it was time. With one last glance toward her, with her lethal blade and impractical mass of long, dark hair, Max slid out from under the bush, carrying Wayren against his chest. Ignoring the painful gouges in his back, he ran, hunching head and shoulders over his burden as the creatures swooped and dove.