Kiss of Steel
Page 33
Beyond the vampire’s shoulder, she could sense a shadow dissolving in the moonlight. Blade. Daring to take her eyes off the creature for a moment, she saw him easing his way across the roof toward the pistol with a grim expression on his face. Their eyes met. Fear turned her spine to ice.
The vampire’s hand curved around her face, its claws scraping along the soft underside of her jaw. Honoria swallowed. It lowered itself toward her, face-to-face, until she had no choice but to look at it.
Thick, ropy scar covered its throat. This close she could see the sloughing scales that covered its cheeks and its coarse white eyelashes. Its eyes were clouded with film. As she watched, it leaned closer until she could almost taste its breath on her tongue.
Its mouth opened. Wicked, needle-sharp teeth gleamed, the canines predominant. A scream curdled in her throat. The vampire’s jaw worked, a faint hiss coming through its teeth. Heart thundering, she stared at it, a frown growing between her brows.
“Stay still,” Blade hissed with urgency. “I’ve nearly got the pistol.”
Honoria barely heard him. All she could see was the vampire’s mouth, its jaw working awkwardly.
“Got it,” he said. “Don’t move, Honor.”
She could barely hear for the pounding of her heart, but somehow she managed to hold up a hand. “Wait,” she whispered, knowing that she was taking a deadly chance. And yet it seemed that if she watched the creature’s lips moving, she could almost make out the shape of words. The vampire was trying to talk to her.
“Honor,” Blade growled in frustration.
“If it had wanted to kill me, it would have done so already.”
Its lips curled back off its teeth, and it snarled over its shoulder at Blade. He aimed the pistol, but the vampire was directly between him and Honoria. If he missed, he would hit her and he knew it. Frustration flickered over his face, and he paced to the side, trying to draw the vampire away. It followed, keeping its body between them at all times. Blade thumbed back the hammer.
The vampire gave one last snarl and then fled, blurring over the rooftops and vanishing toward the tunnel into Undertown. Honoria stared after it, confusion flooding through her. If she had understood that right…Finding her feet, she realized that her hands were trembling. Everything she knew was spinning through her head like a whirlpool.
“Are you insane?” Blade yelled, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her. His eyes were wild but hadn’t descended to the demon-dark pools of his hunger. This was entirely human—furious and frustrated and, most of all, afraid. “It could ’ave killed you.”
“I don’t think it wanted to,” she blurted.
“They don’t think, Honor. They ain’t rational. It’s only ’unger, constant and maddening. The only thing they can think ’bout is blood.”
She opened her mouth, saw Blade’s face, and shut it again. He was in no mood to listen to her explanations. Cupping her face, muttering under his breath, he stroked his thumbs across the plane of cheek beneath her eyes.
“Bloody ’ell,” he muttered. And then he kissed her, his mouth slashing across hers with an almost violent need. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t hunger. It was fear, driving them together.
Honoria sank her hands into his hair, wrapping herself around him. Seeing him there, over O’Shay’s body, the vampire ripping into him…
She pushed at Blade’s shoulders, breaking the embrace, and tore his coat open. “You were bleeding. Are you all right?”
He caught her hands, an odd, purring rumble deep in his throat. “Torn up a bit. It’ll ’eal. What ’bout you? It didn’t scratch you?”
“No. It…it wasn’t trying to hurt me.”
His face darkened. “Aye, it were tryin’ to talk to you, that’s all. A creature as ripped O’Shay apart like ’e were made o’ cotton stuffin’.”
But it was. She turned without saying anything, to where Lena was crying by the wall, limply holding her wrist in her other hand. Honoria would think of it later when she was alone with her thoughts. “Will was injured. Badly.”
Blade blew out a deep breath. “Aye,” he said, and jumped up, grabbing the edge of her roof with his hands and dragging himself up.
As she knelt by Lena and examined her for injuries, she couldn’t help seeing the vampire’s face in her mind, silently trying to mouth words it could no longer give voice to. It would haunt her dreams at night. Please. Help me.
Chapter 21
Blade knelt by O’Shay’s body, a rush of warmth swimming behind his eyes. No tears, though. Never any damned tears.
He’d known it might come to this when they set out to hunt the vampire, which was why he’d always kept O’Shay, Tin Man, and Rip in the background. They were only human. He hated even having Will at his side, but at least the verwulfen could heal almost any damage—and Blade could not do this alone.
Something rattled nearby, breath through a man’s torn throat. Blade’s head shot up and he stared at Rip and the spreading pool of blood beneath the man’s body. Placing O’Shay’s head on the ground as gently as he could, he scuttled on hands and knees toward Rip.
“Rip?” He slid his fingers behind the man’s jaw, feeling for a pulse. The gurgling whisper of Rip’s breath came again, harsh and strained. And his heartbeat pulsed against Blade’s fingertips. It was weak, but it was there.
“Sweet Jaysus.” Blade gently eased Rip onto his back. The man’s abdomen was torn open and his throat slashed, but the vampire had missed his carotid artery. A miracle. A bloody miracle. And yet as soon as Blade thought it, his eyes assessed the damage. It was a gut wound, a mortal wound. There was no way a human could heal this.
“Shit.” Tears swam in his eyes. Rip had been with him the longest. Lark would be devastated. And Esme…His fingers grasped Rip’s coat. Esme’s heart would break. She had already buried one husband.
Rip’s eyes widened with pain and panic. His fingers clutched at Blade’s coat sleeve as blood bubbled on his lips.
Such was Blade’s grief that he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on the rooftop behind him until Honoria laid a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Blade,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Blade nodded curtly, unable to reply. The lump in his throat was sharp with guilt. He’d been inside with Charlie too long. If only he had come out earlier, he would have been there when the vampire first attacked. The two men had had no chance against the creature once Will was down.
Honoria knelt at Rip’s head and eased her knees underneath it to form a pillow. His eyes rolled back to see what was happening, then another bubble broke on his lips. His breathing came easier, though. What was left of it.
“Is there nothing you can do?” she asked.
Blade stared at the mess of exposed viscera. “Me blood can ’eal a wound, but not like this. And not before ’e chokes to death.”
Honoria stroked her hand over Rip’s shaved head. “So it’s his lungs that will kill him?”
Blade nodded.
It was a long moment before she spoke again. “You couldn’t…you couldn’t do what you did to Charlie?”
Blade’s gaze shot to hers. A wild hope. Virtually impossible. But Esme…If there was a chance, no matter how slim, he had to take it.
“Ain’t ever infected someone so badly injured.”
She laid her hand over his, her warmth taking away some of the awful cold that seemed to fill him up. “The older the blue blood, the stronger the virus.” Her hand stilled on Rip’s forehead. “It might work. All of your other data overshoots the expected outcomes.”
Blade looked down at his friend again. Rip’s gaze found his. “We’re goin’ to give you me blood,” he said, squeezing the big man’s metal hand. Rip probably didn’t feel it, but Blade needed to hold something. “The virus might keep you ’live long enough to ’eal your wounds.”
He pushed past the lump in his throat. He knew how Rip felt about becoming a blue blood; he’d offered once, only to have the man soundly reject him. “If you don’t want it, blink. If you do, squeeze me fingers.” Before the man had a chance to reply, Blade leaned low, cupping Rip’s hand in both of his. “But know that this’ll devastate Esme.” A cruel move. But worth it if his friend chose life.
Rip froze, staring up at him. Thought flickered behind his eyes, and then slowly he squeezed Blade’s fingers.
Relief flooded through Blade’s mind, followed by bleak despair. This was a desperate last attempt to save a life. The Echelon had laws that forbade infecting a sick or injured person. With so little strength, the virus could overtake them far swifter than it could a healthy adult male. And it was harder to fight the bloodlust without all of a man’s strength behind him. If it succeeded, he would have to watch Rip carefully. If…
“’Old ’is ’ead,” he told Honoria firmly. “Whatever you do, don’t let ’im move.”
Then he withdrew one of his razors and slashed it lengthwise down the vein in his own wrist.
***
Blade had decided that it wasn’t safe for them to stay at Honoria’s house for the night with the vampire on the loose and its odd interest in the Todd family. Besides, Honoria didn’t think she could stay away from him. The look in his eyes was bleak. She wanted to press her hand against his cheek, her lips to his forehead. Anything to ease his pain. But when she’d tried to take his hand in hers, he’d snapped at her and shaken loose. Distracted, she told herself.
Lena’s wrist was swollen but not broken, and Charlie’s eyelids were starting to droop sleepily. Will was on his feet, but only through sheer willpower. Bruises marred the skin beneath his eyes, and he could barely manage to keep his eyelids open. The loupe virus had closed the wound across his abdomen. Now it was trying to heal the rest of him. Though insanely strong in battle, verwulfen were vulnerable following injury, when the virus knocked them unconscious in order to heal.
Lena hovered at his side, her face pale and strained. It had been a nasty shock for her tonight. Honoria hadn’t had a chance to ask her what happened, but Will had mentioned that “bloody, stupid girl” launching herself at the vampire when it attacked him. Honoria couldn’t have been prouder, and yet she wanted to shake some sense into her sister. What had she been thinking?
Blade carried Rip carefully, his body staggering with weariness. He’d lost too much blood today, both in donating it to Charlie and Rip and in the healing slash the vampire’s claws had gouged in his side. Honoria kept a careful eye on him. It was a weary, battle-stained little group.
The warren came into view, cheery lights gleaming in the upstairs windows. Esme, no doubt, trying to make a home for the men.
Honoria pushed past Blade, opening the door.
“Thanks,” he murmured, swinging Rip through. It looked ridiculous, one man carrying a giant like a child balancing an adult in his arms.
They were almost to the stairs when Esme came down, a candlestick in her hand and a gentle smile on her lips. “Honoria,” she said, greeting them warmly, and then her gaze took in Honoria’s bloodstained skirts. “What happened? What…” And then she looked past to where Blade stepped into view. The color drained from her face as she saw who was in his arms. Another woman might have screamed or gasped, but Esme went white as a ghost and staggered against the wall. “John,” she whispered.
Blade’s face was grim. “I give ’im me blood. I ’ad to. ’E’s still breathin’, but I can’t promise you anythin’.”
Esme nodded, her hand sliding along the wall as though she couldn’t quite keep herself upright. Honoria leaped up the stairs and caught her before she fell.
“I’m so sorry,” Esme murmured in shock. “I don’t know what came over me.” She looked at Rip again in disbelief.
All of the remaining questions regarding Esme and Blade’s precise relationship shriveled. Oh. Honoria looked at the villainous-looking giant dubiously.
“’E needs blood, Esme,” Blade said.
“Aye,” Esme whispered. “Bring him to his room.”
“Are you sure?” Blade asked. “It ain’t been long since you offered to me.”
A firm look came into the woman’s eyes. “I’m strong enough. And you’ll be there to contain him if necessary.”
They turned and made their way up the stairs. Blade swung Rip through the doorway, easing him onto the bed. He knelt for a moment on the edge of the mattress, a hand pressed against his side as he breathed hard.
Honoria pressed her palm against the small of his back and raised a questioning eyebrow when he looked at her.
His lips thinned. “I’m right as rain. Just let me catch me breath.”
Esme plumped the pillows. The jagged wound at Rip’s throat had closed almost completely, courtesy of a splash of Blade’s blood. Just what precisely was Blade’s CV count coming in at? He had to be close to seventy or eighty percent for Rip’s wound to heal so swiftly. A troubling thought, for it meant Blade was also standing on the verge of the Fade.
Esme knelt on the bed and started to unbutton her collar. Rip focused on her so intensely that Honoria almost felt as though she was intruding on something private. A strangled noise came from his throat. “No,” he managed to spit out. “Not ’er.”
His hand rose to push Esme away, but Blade caught it, forcing it back to the bed. The iron fingers closed around his and Blade squeezed back, his teeth clenched. “This is what you agreed to,” he said. “And there ain’t nobody else. Unless you’d prefer it to be Lark?”
The vampire’s hand curved around her face, its claws scraping along the soft underside of her jaw. Honoria swallowed. It lowered itself toward her, face-to-face, until she had no choice but to look at it.
Thick, ropy scar covered its throat. This close she could see the sloughing scales that covered its cheeks and its coarse white eyelashes. Its eyes were clouded with film. As she watched, it leaned closer until she could almost taste its breath on her tongue.
Its mouth opened. Wicked, needle-sharp teeth gleamed, the canines predominant. A scream curdled in her throat. The vampire’s jaw worked, a faint hiss coming through its teeth. Heart thundering, she stared at it, a frown growing between her brows.
“Stay still,” Blade hissed with urgency. “I’ve nearly got the pistol.”
Honoria barely heard him. All she could see was the vampire’s mouth, its jaw working awkwardly.
“Got it,” he said. “Don’t move, Honor.”
She could barely hear for the pounding of her heart, but somehow she managed to hold up a hand. “Wait,” she whispered, knowing that she was taking a deadly chance. And yet it seemed that if she watched the creature’s lips moving, she could almost make out the shape of words. The vampire was trying to talk to her.
“Honor,” Blade growled in frustration.
“If it had wanted to kill me, it would have done so already.”
Its lips curled back off its teeth, and it snarled over its shoulder at Blade. He aimed the pistol, but the vampire was directly between him and Honoria. If he missed, he would hit her and he knew it. Frustration flickered over his face, and he paced to the side, trying to draw the vampire away. It followed, keeping its body between them at all times. Blade thumbed back the hammer.
The vampire gave one last snarl and then fled, blurring over the rooftops and vanishing toward the tunnel into Undertown. Honoria stared after it, confusion flooding through her. If she had understood that right…Finding her feet, she realized that her hands were trembling. Everything she knew was spinning through her head like a whirlpool.
“Are you insane?” Blade yelled, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her. His eyes were wild but hadn’t descended to the demon-dark pools of his hunger. This was entirely human—furious and frustrated and, most of all, afraid. “It could ’ave killed you.”
“I don’t think it wanted to,” she blurted.
“They don’t think, Honor. They ain’t rational. It’s only ’unger, constant and maddening. The only thing they can think ’bout is blood.”
She opened her mouth, saw Blade’s face, and shut it again. He was in no mood to listen to her explanations. Cupping her face, muttering under his breath, he stroked his thumbs across the plane of cheek beneath her eyes.
“Bloody ’ell,” he muttered. And then he kissed her, his mouth slashing across hers with an almost violent need. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t hunger. It was fear, driving them together.
Honoria sank her hands into his hair, wrapping herself around him. Seeing him there, over O’Shay’s body, the vampire ripping into him…
She pushed at Blade’s shoulders, breaking the embrace, and tore his coat open. “You were bleeding. Are you all right?”
He caught her hands, an odd, purring rumble deep in his throat. “Torn up a bit. It’ll ’eal. What ’bout you? It didn’t scratch you?”
“No. It…it wasn’t trying to hurt me.”
His face darkened. “Aye, it were tryin’ to talk to you, that’s all. A creature as ripped O’Shay apart like ’e were made o’ cotton stuffin’.”
But it was. She turned without saying anything, to where Lena was crying by the wall, limply holding her wrist in her other hand. Honoria would think of it later when she was alone with her thoughts. “Will was injured. Badly.”
Blade blew out a deep breath. “Aye,” he said, and jumped up, grabbing the edge of her roof with his hands and dragging himself up.
As she knelt by Lena and examined her for injuries, she couldn’t help seeing the vampire’s face in her mind, silently trying to mouth words it could no longer give voice to. It would haunt her dreams at night. Please. Help me.
Chapter 21
Blade knelt by O’Shay’s body, a rush of warmth swimming behind his eyes. No tears, though. Never any damned tears.
He’d known it might come to this when they set out to hunt the vampire, which was why he’d always kept O’Shay, Tin Man, and Rip in the background. They were only human. He hated even having Will at his side, but at least the verwulfen could heal almost any damage—and Blade could not do this alone.
Something rattled nearby, breath through a man’s torn throat. Blade’s head shot up and he stared at Rip and the spreading pool of blood beneath the man’s body. Placing O’Shay’s head on the ground as gently as he could, he scuttled on hands and knees toward Rip.
“Rip?” He slid his fingers behind the man’s jaw, feeling for a pulse. The gurgling whisper of Rip’s breath came again, harsh and strained. And his heartbeat pulsed against Blade’s fingertips. It was weak, but it was there.
“Sweet Jaysus.” Blade gently eased Rip onto his back. The man’s abdomen was torn open and his throat slashed, but the vampire had missed his carotid artery. A miracle. A bloody miracle. And yet as soon as Blade thought it, his eyes assessed the damage. It was a gut wound, a mortal wound. There was no way a human could heal this.
“Shit.” Tears swam in his eyes. Rip had been with him the longest. Lark would be devastated. And Esme…His fingers grasped Rip’s coat. Esme’s heart would break. She had already buried one husband.
Rip’s eyes widened with pain and panic. His fingers clutched at Blade’s coat sleeve as blood bubbled on his lips.
Such was Blade’s grief that he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on the rooftop behind him until Honoria laid a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Blade,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Blade nodded curtly, unable to reply. The lump in his throat was sharp with guilt. He’d been inside with Charlie too long. If only he had come out earlier, he would have been there when the vampire first attacked. The two men had had no chance against the creature once Will was down.
Honoria knelt at Rip’s head and eased her knees underneath it to form a pillow. His eyes rolled back to see what was happening, then another bubble broke on his lips. His breathing came easier, though. What was left of it.
“Is there nothing you can do?” she asked.
Blade stared at the mess of exposed viscera. “Me blood can ’eal a wound, but not like this. And not before ’e chokes to death.”
Honoria stroked her hand over Rip’s shaved head. “So it’s his lungs that will kill him?”
Blade nodded.
It was a long moment before she spoke again. “You couldn’t…you couldn’t do what you did to Charlie?”
Blade’s gaze shot to hers. A wild hope. Virtually impossible. But Esme…If there was a chance, no matter how slim, he had to take it.
“Ain’t ever infected someone so badly injured.”
She laid her hand over his, her warmth taking away some of the awful cold that seemed to fill him up. “The older the blue blood, the stronger the virus.” Her hand stilled on Rip’s forehead. “It might work. All of your other data overshoots the expected outcomes.”
Blade looked down at his friend again. Rip’s gaze found his. “We’re goin’ to give you me blood,” he said, squeezing the big man’s metal hand. Rip probably didn’t feel it, but Blade needed to hold something. “The virus might keep you ’live long enough to ’eal your wounds.”
He pushed past the lump in his throat. He knew how Rip felt about becoming a blue blood; he’d offered once, only to have the man soundly reject him. “If you don’t want it, blink. If you do, squeeze me fingers.” Before the man had a chance to reply, Blade leaned low, cupping Rip’s hand in both of his. “But know that this’ll devastate Esme.” A cruel move. But worth it if his friend chose life.
Rip froze, staring up at him. Thought flickered behind his eyes, and then slowly he squeezed Blade’s fingers.
Relief flooded through Blade’s mind, followed by bleak despair. This was a desperate last attempt to save a life. The Echelon had laws that forbade infecting a sick or injured person. With so little strength, the virus could overtake them far swifter than it could a healthy adult male. And it was harder to fight the bloodlust without all of a man’s strength behind him. If it succeeded, he would have to watch Rip carefully. If…
“’Old ’is ’ead,” he told Honoria firmly. “Whatever you do, don’t let ’im move.”
Then he withdrew one of his razors and slashed it lengthwise down the vein in his own wrist.
***
Blade had decided that it wasn’t safe for them to stay at Honoria’s house for the night with the vampire on the loose and its odd interest in the Todd family. Besides, Honoria didn’t think she could stay away from him. The look in his eyes was bleak. She wanted to press her hand against his cheek, her lips to his forehead. Anything to ease his pain. But when she’d tried to take his hand in hers, he’d snapped at her and shaken loose. Distracted, she told herself.
Lena’s wrist was swollen but not broken, and Charlie’s eyelids were starting to droop sleepily. Will was on his feet, but only through sheer willpower. Bruises marred the skin beneath his eyes, and he could barely manage to keep his eyelids open. The loupe virus had closed the wound across his abdomen. Now it was trying to heal the rest of him. Though insanely strong in battle, verwulfen were vulnerable following injury, when the virus knocked them unconscious in order to heal.
Lena hovered at his side, her face pale and strained. It had been a nasty shock for her tonight. Honoria hadn’t had a chance to ask her what happened, but Will had mentioned that “bloody, stupid girl” launching herself at the vampire when it attacked him. Honoria couldn’t have been prouder, and yet she wanted to shake some sense into her sister. What had she been thinking?
Blade carried Rip carefully, his body staggering with weariness. He’d lost too much blood today, both in donating it to Charlie and Rip and in the healing slash the vampire’s claws had gouged in his side. Honoria kept a careful eye on him. It was a weary, battle-stained little group.
The warren came into view, cheery lights gleaming in the upstairs windows. Esme, no doubt, trying to make a home for the men.
Honoria pushed past Blade, opening the door.
“Thanks,” he murmured, swinging Rip through. It looked ridiculous, one man carrying a giant like a child balancing an adult in his arms.
They were almost to the stairs when Esme came down, a candlestick in her hand and a gentle smile on her lips. “Honoria,” she said, greeting them warmly, and then her gaze took in Honoria’s bloodstained skirts. “What happened? What…” And then she looked past to where Blade stepped into view. The color drained from her face as she saw who was in his arms. Another woman might have screamed or gasped, but Esme went white as a ghost and staggered against the wall. “John,” she whispered.
Blade’s face was grim. “I give ’im me blood. I ’ad to. ’E’s still breathin’, but I can’t promise you anythin’.”
Esme nodded, her hand sliding along the wall as though she couldn’t quite keep herself upright. Honoria leaped up the stairs and caught her before she fell.
“I’m so sorry,” Esme murmured in shock. “I don’t know what came over me.” She looked at Rip again in disbelief.
All of the remaining questions regarding Esme and Blade’s precise relationship shriveled. Oh. Honoria looked at the villainous-looking giant dubiously.
“’E needs blood, Esme,” Blade said.
“Aye,” Esme whispered. “Bring him to his room.”
“Are you sure?” Blade asked. “It ain’t been long since you offered to me.”
A firm look came into the woman’s eyes. “I’m strong enough. And you’ll be there to contain him if necessary.”
They turned and made their way up the stairs. Blade swung Rip through the doorway, easing him onto the bed. He knelt for a moment on the edge of the mattress, a hand pressed against his side as he breathed hard.
Honoria pressed her palm against the small of his back and raised a questioning eyebrow when he looked at her.
His lips thinned. “I’m right as rain. Just let me catch me breath.”
Esme plumped the pillows. The jagged wound at Rip’s throat had closed almost completely, courtesy of a splash of Blade’s blood. Just what precisely was Blade’s CV count coming in at? He had to be close to seventy or eighty percent for Rip’s wound to heal so swiftly. A troubling thought, for it meant Blade was also standing on the verge of the Fade.
Esme knelt on the bed and started to unbutton her collar. Rip focused on her so intensely that Honoria almost felt as though she was intruding on something private. A strangled noise came from his throat. “No,” he managed to spit out. “Not ’er.”
His hand rose to push Esme away, but Blade caught it, forcing it back to the bed. The iron fingers closed around his and Blade squeezed back, his teeth clenched. “This is what you agreed to,” he said. “And there ain’t nobody else. Unless you’d prefer it to be Lark?”
