The Kingmakers(141)
After a few minutes, lifeboats appeared in the sky around Bolivar. They were capsules, some fifty feet long, like miniature zeppelins. Their onboard motors pushed them at a pace that was too slow to outdistance the surrounding vampires, who began to congregate around the little ships, clambering over them, spinning them out of control. The helpless crafts began to fall one by one.
A larger lifeboat swept into view, emblazoned with a family crest. Senator Clark. His lumbering craft began to make its turn away from the giant airship when a horde of vampires swarmed it too, crawling over its exterior, clawing and pounding the portholes. The senator's lifeboat was turned and tilted by the weight of the creatures. It rocked, and smoke boiled from its motors. It fought to keep its head, to maintain its way to freedom. But there was no hope for it. Just like all the other crafts in the air around it, the boat suddenly upended and plummeted. The vampires launched themselves safely into the air as the lifeboat spiraled sickeningly out of control, smashing into the distant Earth with a fiery bloom.
Anhalt stifled a sigh of despair. He could hear the distraught murmurs of the crew around him, stunned that their mythic commander had been brought down like a mere mortal. If he could die here, there was surely no hope for any of them.
The sirdar turned to the crew with the chaotic sky behind him. “Gentlemen, I want to thank you for your service to your nation as well as to humanity. What you do here today will leave the world better for your children. You will not be forgotten. It is my great honor to serve with you. Now, let's rain hell down on them.”
The captain and the young helmsman calmly returned to their duties and steered the crippled airship using short spurts from burster motors. Several men perched by the windows and directed the ship in its attempt to stay over Buckingham Palace and keep the wind from pushing them off target. The helm brought the ship tail-down to maximize the impact of the bombs along the belly, and lift the bridge as high above the blast as possible.
The sound of monsters slamming the underside of the entry hatch grew louder. The metal suddenly bent inward. Clawed fingers probed in through the gap between hatch and metal frame as the pounding continued. The metal buckled more with each strike.
Anhalt laid a hand on the hilt of his saber. “How long will that hatch hold, do you think?”
Captain Sandino shrugged. “No idea. Won't matter much in a few minutes.”
The airship vibrated madly, rattling as if bolts and rivets would pop across the bridge, or the bulkheads would crumple like paper. The helmsman had both arms locked around the spokes of the wheel, and Captain Sandino braced himself against the wheel too, legs straining, teeth grinding, holding the ship on course against the numbing vibrations. They both recited the old Lord's Prayer. The marines and airmen at the window interlocked their elbows and clenched their eyes shut.
The hatch smashed open and rang off the bulkhead. Vampires crawled in, smiling and bloody. They stopped when they saw Anhalt standing with feet wide apart on the tilting deck, glowing saber in hand, staring at them.
One vampire said in English, “Welcome to London.”
“Empress Adele sends her regards,” General Anhalt replied evenly. Then he charged the creatures.
WHAT WOULD GREYFRIAR do?
Gareth had read all those penny dreadfuls. Greyfriar had been captured by the evil Cesare countless times and always escaped. Just when everything looked bleak and hopeless, when humanity was down to its last gasp, Greyfriar always triumphed. There was always some vampire weakness, some steam-powered gimmick, some experimental weapon. There had to be a way out. There had to be some last-minute heroics. Greyfriar always escaped and saved the day.
Always.
Gareth had nothing. No secret knowledge. No tricks. No rocket-powered bombs. He might not save the day. But he couldn't fail. Adele couldn't die. Gareth tried to struggle, but his body was a mass of excruciating pain. Cesare might be nearing Edinburgh by now. Adele wouldn't be expecting an attack. If Cesare managed to take her unaware, he could kill her. Gareth cried out and strained against his bonds again. The clank of chains mixed with the grating of the door bolt. Gareth looked up expectantly.
“Flay?” he breathed.
Baudoin appeared in the doorway with a confused smile, but eyes that showed horror at his master's plight. “Flay? I should hope not.”
Gareth breathed out through the agony. “Baudoin!”
The servant took several eager steps, then stopped, reeling from the power of the talisman hanging around Gareth's neck.
“She is in danger. Cesare is on his way to Edinburgh.”
“Then let's get you out of here.” Baudoin trudged forward despite the obvious pain. He reached for the crystal.