Page 61 of Bloodgrove

“It is a trap,” he whispered, nodding toward the gate.

This time, their footsteps were quiet, swallowed by fresh screams and gunshots.

“Should we not help them?” Will asked quietly.

“Anyone who passes through the gates at night gets no rescue. We have committed ourselves to death, and until we return, no help will come.” For the first time, Saint’s face hardened enough for his cruelty to show through.

Silently, they left the shipyard through a rear exit, and Will stopped. Before him stretched the black ocean, a dark, living mass licking at the sea wall and glittering with stars beneath the moonless sky. White foam danced upon the waves, stirred by the cold breeze, and Will breathed in.

Memories came to him of nighttime walks along the beach with his father. Back when his father had not yet grown estranged from his son, when they had walked hand in hand across the sand, and he had explained the stars to him.

“How unexpectedly beautiful,” Will said. “Perhaps you could bring me here during the day sometime.”

But Saint did not answer. The sea lapped quietly against the pier, and in the distance, vampires howled.

“Saint?” Sudden panic seized him, and Will spun around.

The harbor was empty. Where Saint had stood moments before, tiny droplets of blood glittered.

“Saint!”

Farther away, he glimpsed movement—figures disappearing behind a warehouse. Without thinking, Will sprinted toward them and cocked his revolver. He skidded through the freezing mist and slammed into a brick wall when he took a corner too quickly.

Furious, he shook his head. No rescue might be the hunters’ creed, but he would not simply abandon Saint, especially when Will felt they were here only because of him. He had trusted the young man because he spoke with such confidence. After all, Will had assumed everyone in this city was forced to grow up too quickly. But in the end, he was still only a boy who had barely reached adulthood. His cruelly innocent face showed hardly any beard, and with his long arms and legs, he had not yet quite grown into the man he would become.

The sounds of fighting came from inside a warehouse. The gate stood open by a narrow crack, the chain on its lock torn apart. Will drove his shoulder into it and pointed his revolver toward the darkness.

He recognized the outlines of a dismantled fish market. Starlight filtered through windows in the roof, scarcely enough to illuminate the shadowy figures. Screams echoed from the walls, and somewhere within the chaos of writhing shapes was Saint.

Will needed light. He bit his lip until he tasted blood.

Instantly, the figures went still.

Saint’s cry of pain tore through Will’s heart. He called to his magic, offered it his blood, and a fold in the fabric of reality opened.

Moonlight flooded the hall. The glowing sphere hovered beside him, and in the same breath, Will fired.

One shot.

A second.

He could not tell whether either struck its target. His eyes widened as he suddenly found himself facing twenty vampires.

He fired again.

Again and again.

Until the weapon clicked.

Will cursed. His fingers searched for cartridges, but he would never reload in time. The bullets slipped from his gloved, shaking hands and clattered to the floor. Five vampires broke away from the struggle around Saint and advanced on Will, circling him crouched, ready to jump.

“Saint!” he screamed, but only a strangled cry answered.

Then the monsters leaped at him.

In that moment, he understood that he had lost. He could not outrun them. He could not defeat them all. His mind managed nothing beyond a curse and the clear certainty that this was it.

Will charged into the pack with his rapier drawn, slashing wildly as he threw himself into the chaos. Saint’s screams pierced him to the marrow. They did not stop, but blended with growls and wet chewing.