Page 49 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

The remaining four spread farther, circling, using the grave markers as cover. They moved in eerie silence, boots barely whispering against the grass. Not one shouted. No orders, no curses. Just coordinated motion, as if they were all following the same quiet script.

I didn’t like it.

I jabbed my spear at the ribs of the one who had tried to kick me, forcing him back, then spun. “They’re testing us!”

Con parried a strike and shoved his attacker into a stone angel. The statue cracked, wings snapping in half. “Then let’s give them something to report.”

The third attacker tried to use my distraction.

He came from behind, knife angled toward my spine.

Magic pulsed under my skin in warning.

I let myself fall forward, dropping low as steel whistled over my back. I rolled, came up on one knee, and swept my spear in a vicious arc. The blade sliced across his thighs. He dropped hard, knees slamming into the cold earth.

I jammed the spearpoint at his throat, stopping a hair’s breadth from piercing skin. “Who sent you?”

His eyes met mine. No fear. No hatred. Just ice.

“Target confirmed,” he murmured. “Phase one complete.”

My grip tightened. “Wrong answer.”

I drove the spear through his neck. His body spasmed, then went still.

Three down.

The others finally abandoned the quiet approach.

The fourth charged Con with a pair of short batons that crackled. Stun tech, maybe. Or something worse. Con twisted away from the first strike, but the second caught him across the ribs. A flicker of energy crackled along his side.

He grunted, teeth bared, but stayed standing.

The attacker tried to follow up, baton angling toward Con’s temple.

Con ducked under, stepped in, and let one blade drop. He seized the man’s wrist in a brutal grip. With his free hand, he drove his remaining sword up under the man’s ribcage, right through his heart.

The enhanced human jerked, dropping the baton, eyes wide with disbelief before they dulled.

Four down.

The last two must have realized brute force wasn’t going to cut it. They split wide, vanishing between the older graves near the back, bodies melting into the shadows.

“Cowards,” I muttered.

Con panted once, shallow, then straightened. “They’re not running.”

He was right.

The night shifted.

The graveyard, normally a quiet place of stone and whispers, filled with sound. Boots pounding down the path. Voices shouting. The entry gate slammed against the fence as more bodies poured in.

“Cass!” a voice called.

Val.

Quinn was right beside him, both of them armed, eyes scanning the scene with the practiced speed of warriors who knew how badly things could go wrong in the dark.