Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(32)

Three vampires were dragging as many of the girls as they could safely reach into the shadows. Grady splashed holy water on the one nearest him, and when the woman shrieked with pain, he lunged toward her, makeshift stake raised.

They fell to the ground, the vampiress still screaming in pain, and he managed, somehow, to drive the slender but powerful pike into her sternum.

It was easier than he’d imagined, for the bone seemed to just give way as soon as the wooden point hit it, and he forced his protesting muscles to shove it all the way through, into the heart.

The woman froze, her mouth crumpled in horror and eyes wide with shock, then all at once—she was gone. Grady collapsed onto the floor as what was left of her body exploded into his face.

Coughing and spitting out the disgusting ash, half blinded by the gritty dust, he tried to scramble to his feet. Just as he began to push up, a pair of shiny black shoes appeared on the floor in front of his eyes.

“Nicely done,” said Nicholas Iscariot as he stepped, hard, onto Grady’s left, stake-bearing hand. He pressed all his weight down onto it, and Grady smothered a groan of pain as his fingers released the weapon. Nevertheless, he forced himself to look up at his captor—yet still avoid the enthralling gaze that burned there. “But your efforts were in vain, my brave sir.”

“The girls…are…safe,” he managed to say, fumbling beneath his belly where he still held two vials of holy water.

“That might be the case…but you are not. And that, as it happens, has been my intent all along.”

Grady blinked, trying to focus, but Iscariot’s strong, sharp-nailed hands reached down and grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him off the ground—but not before the vampire ground his foot into his hand one last time. Grady felt a sharp, painful pop! at his shoulder before his hand slid free from beneath the weight on it, and another one at his wrist, and he bit back a scream of pain. But he’d managed to unleash one more vial of holy water, and he held it close to his body as he was whooshed off the floor.

The world tilted and spun, and the ugly green glow at Iscariot’s chest caught his attention: hypnotic and evil. Grady swung his arm out in a wide arc and poured holy water up and over the vampire lord’s face.

Iscariot cried out, but did not release him. Instead, his irises burning more vibrantly than ever, the blue ring around them cold and furious, he bared his fangs and said, “By the devil, you are dead.”

He whipped around fast and hard and slammed Grady into the wall, hand cupping him beneath the chin. Then he drove his lethal nails into his shoulder, ripping downward. Grady felt fabric and flesh tear, and the eruption of blood bursting from his body.

His vision swam, but he managed to glance over at the hostages. He saw that the sunny area was empty. He closed his eyes and let go.

It was over.





FOURTEEN

~ Architectural Blind Spots ~



By the time Max and Macey learned the location of the Beedle school and arrived there, it was after one o’clock.

They pushed their way through the crowd, heading toward the front of the fortress-like building.

“I’m going to do a circuit,” Max said, his crossbow over his shoulder. “Meet you here in a few.” He peeled off and went in one direction as Macey headed toward the cluster of police officers, an ambulance, and what looked like other officials.

Frustratingly, she was stopped at a blockade by two officious-looking cops and was forced to step back to consider their options. Causing a scene and pushing through wouldn’t help anything, and could end up with either her or Max in jail, Venator or not—but how to explain that they were uniquely suited to assist with the situation—which was already delicate? Plus, they didn’t know what was going on except what had been reported in the special edition—which was not much beyond the startling headline and background about the school itself.

Then Macey saw Detective Linwood standing in the clump of authorities. She called out to him and moved up to the barricade, waving to catch his attention. She didn’t know if Grady’s uncle would remember her, but it was worth a try.

He turned at the sound of his name and looked surprised, then hurried over to her. The officers at the barricade allowed her to pass through when their colleague gave them a nod, and she hurried toward Grady’s uncle.

Macey felt a horrible premonition as Linwood approached, for he looked frighteningly grave—and she didn’t think it was because he’d not yet fully recovered from his own attack by the vampires.

“It’s you—isn’t it? Macey, that’s your name. Right?” He looked a little confused and perhaps a bit hopeful.

“Yes. I’m here—we’re here. My—er—partner, he went for a walk around the building, but he’ll be back in a minute. We know— We think we can assist with this particular situation. We’re familiar with the perpetrator, and know how he works.”

Linwood was looking at her as if he didn’t know what to believe. “Grady’s in there.”

Macey’s belly dropped sharply, and her insides swirled like a typhoon. Linwood gripped her arm. Surely she hadn’t actually swayed.

Macey listened to Linwood’s explanation, but at the same time, all she could think was that her nightmare had come true. Iscariot had Grady, and she knew—she knew—the vampire lord would use him to get to her. The images of Mrs. Gutchinson—her elderly landlady—and her friend Chelle, both of whom had been brutalized by Nicholas Iscariot, swam in her mind. She felt lightheaded and sick.

The very thing she’d never wanted to happen, the event she’d tried to prevent all along—from the time she realized who she was and what she had to do—had come to pass.

As it had done to her own father, thirteen years ago.

She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from gagging, struggled to pull herself together, to touch the smooth silver of her vis bulla.

No.

Iscariot would not win.

He was evil personified. He was the root of malevolence.

He would not win.

But if she had to make a choice between Grady and giving up Rekk’s Pyramid to the vampires—and she knew that was what fate awaited her—what would she do?

How could she choose? How could she live with herself either way?

“Macey.”

She realized Linwood and another cop were looking at her.

She struggled to draw in a breath. “There’s been no word since Grady—since he went in? No further message? How long has he been in there?”

“More than an hour—he went inside just before noon. He gave me these to hold before he went in.” Linwood opened his hand—it was trembling—to show them a silver cross on a chain, and a silver ring. “They wouldn’t allow any metal on his person.”

It’s a setup, she thought. He wanted Grady in there—because he knows I’d come for him.

She glanced at Linwood, who, fortunately, had been distracted by something beyond the gate of the school.

“Right. Of course. We have to get in there.”

“You can’t go in,” Linwood said, turning back to them. “They’ll kill everyone inside—that’s what they said. If anyone—”

He stopped and they all looked toward the building. “That sounded like breaking glass,” said the other cop—Barnett was his name. “From the back of the school.”

Macey didn’t wait for permission, or even for Max to return. For all she knew, he was already there. She just ran, weaving between people, pushing through the gate—just as a stream of girls came tearing around from the back of the building.



+ + +

Max walked quickly around the perimeter of the school, looking for the best place to climb over the fence without being seen by anyone inside.

He was damned if he was going to wait for someone to tell him what to do, when to go in, and how. He’d heard enough from bystanders as he made his way through them to get a general idea of what was going on. By now, Max had no doubt Iscariot was in the school, and he was going to string him up with a wooden crossbow bolt with great pleasure—or die trying.

His circuit took him past the halfway point of the perimeter, following the tall wrought iron fence, before he found the perfect place to climb over. Though there were no trees on the grounds to provide cover, there was a blind spot on the building on one side—where the main, wide chimney rose from ground to roof, and at the bottom was a discreet entrance—likely for staff and deliveries. In fact, there was a large delivery truck parked right there, which would also offer some cover. He assumed that windowless vehicle was how the vampires had been transported and gained access to the building.

There was a width of about four feet on the wall with no windows, and the nearest opening after that was past the edge of the jutting chimney.

It was all he needed—just that sliver of space where no one from the inside could spot him as he got over the fence.

Max studied the angle for a moment, determined exactly where to stand so he couldn’t be seen, then removed the crossbow and quiver from his back, shoving it through a gap in the fence.

With an air of determination and relief—finally, he was doing something—Max crouched and sprang up on his powerful legs. He caught the fence more than halfway up, and pulled himself up, hand over hand, his rubber-toed shoes helping to propel and steady him, until he gripped the tops of two pointed iron spikes. He waited, staying there for a moment, balanced against the fence with his toes against the bars, his arms flexed to hold him as close to the top as possible.