Page 49
I do the stupid thing. ‟Hello? Who is there?” I ask loudly, head swiveling as I try to make out anything.
But there is nothing. No sign of the vampires, no sign of any other movement. And honestly, what would I do if someone were to answer? I pull at the handcuffs, but no, still no wiggle room.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the hall, followed by the broken body of what I can only hope is a vampire, and not a murder victim. The mangled body hits the metal railing high above my head, losing an arm in the process and almost wrapping around the metal like a thrown scarf. Then the body slides off and falls to the ground in a broken heap of bloody meat. My heart leaps in my chest as I strain to see what's happening.
In the dim light, I can make out a figure on the metal grate balcony above. It's Cor.
He stands tall and imposing, his golden eyes blazing through the twilight. In his hand is a thick metal pipe, dripping blood and something gelatinous and bright, probably brain matter. Somehow, he found one of the lurking vampires and beat him to death without making a noise. Which means he knows there are others around.
It’s only when he jumps down from the balcony that I can see his face and the expression of utter panic, the heavy, breathless gasping, the sheen of cold sweat on his chest and arms. Cor is not unafraid. He is fighting his way to me, fearing for his life, knowing this will not end well.
Ten feet from me, he suddenly freezes and turns white. The pipe in his hand flops back and forth as he starts shaking, amber-gold eyes wide with panic.
A hand touches my shoulder, and makes me jump and squeak. I look up at Egil’s face and the mask of frozen hatred there as he grabs my shoulder possessively, staring at Cor like he is a freshly popped plague broil. ‟I did not believe the Huntress when she promised you would come for this one,” he growls thunderously. ‟Has your cold, shriveled heart finally cracked? Or does he bear other qualities that I simply cannot see?”
I grind my teeth at the suggestive words and glance at Cor, holding my tongue for now. As long as they are talking, they are not killing each other, and this might be my last chance to find out why they hate each other like this and still seem unable to go their separate ways.
Cor grabs the metal pipe harder, his eyes flickering to me for a moment before he fixes Egil with a terror-dark glare. He is being incredibly brave for my sake, as if I never pulled a gun on him. Makes me feel like scum of the earth. His chest heaves as he forces in air past his panic-tight chest. His voice is deeper, as rough as Egil’s, but less voluminous. Hard to fill a room that is already dripping with one vampire’s presence.
‟He saved me. Fed me. Hid me. Cared for my wounds. He did not have to. He should not have done it. He asked for nothing in return. Right now, he is angry at me for coming here to save him because he knows I will lose,” he says, raising the corner of his mouth in a self-deprecating smirk. ‟Have you ever met anyone like that?”
Egil’s grip tightens on my shoulder as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving Cor’s terrified face. ‟I have met enough treacherous vermin like this one to last me a lifetime,” he snarls. “I made my last mistake when I entrusted you with the fate of my son. It is laughable to see you fall into the same pit, now that you are so close to freedom from me. Laughable and very satisfying. Imagine what I could do to this fragile little mortal if you step out of line.”
I can’t watch the pain on Cor’s face any longer. There are always choices, and right now I have one that would make sure Cor leaves and stays alive. Suicide by vampire lord.
‟You really need to work on your anger management skills,” I mutter, glaring at Egil. ‟It’s not healthy to hold on to grudges for so long.”
He turns his furious gaze towards me, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to attack. But instead, he suddenly jerks back and clutches his face. Blood spurts out from between his fingers. Vampires around the room charge out of hiding, first towards Cor, only to stop and turn around confusedly as a hail of bullets suddenly goes down onto the building walls. Egil lowers his now blood stained hand, bares his teeth and laughs out hoarsely. A deep groove slices through his cheek where a sniper’s bullet just about missed his head. The rumbling threat makes Cor take a half-step back, his gaze leaving me with a certain finality as he hones in on Egil.
“Seems like we will once more face each other on a battlefield, Spaniard,” the Norseman roars and slaps me out of the way so hard I flip over and slide a good ten feet, chair and all. It happens so fast, I don’t realize I am sliding until I come to a stop and blood gushes out of a gash above my left ear. Stars dance across my vision, and my hearing goes for a loop, distorting Cor’s enraged roar into something alien.
Shortly after, machine gun fire fills the room again, drowning out the vampires’ screams as they crash into each other behind me.
Breath rasping, I wiggle and squirm, trying futilely to get the chair back up. My mind is swimming; gray spots are crawling through my vision. I have at least a concussion, if not something worse. The way the base of my head and my neck hurt, whiplash syndrome is a high possibility. I should probably lie still and wait for an ambulance to not make it worse. But there will be no ambulance. No help. So I keep exhausting myself, hoping and praying for something, anything, to get me out of the ropes.
I am about to flip the whole chair into a very bad position when the doors of the factory hall burst open and spew cultists, magic, and more gunfire. Bullets fly everywhere, shattering the windows and ricocheting from the big metal beams criss-crossing the room. I yell out and try to scoot myself further back when a hand appears beside my shoulder, grabs the backrest of my chair, and drags me away towards the back, flipping me upright on the go.
‟Head down, puppy,” Asha yells through the pandemonium, ducking behind me as she hoists me away from the gunfight.
Just as she drags me around the last corner, I see Egil slamming his fist through Cor’s stomach, and Cor whacking the steel pipe onto his arm, breaking it cleanly. Blood spews out of both of them, but it doesn’t seem to slow them down one bit. Then we’re in the hallway, moving away from the man I love and his certain death.
ASHA DRAGS ME into a storage room with three small windows and tons of boxes and shelves, closing the door with her hip. She puts my chair in the middle of the room, then sprints back, shoving a shelf in front of the door to block it. Only then does she take a deep breath and focus back on me. A forced smile tugs at her lips as our eyes meet. ‟It’ll all be over quick, I promise. And you’ll see that it’s better this way.”
She must have gone mad. Tugging at the handcuffs, I try to find some give in either them or the rope around my legs, but no such luck. ‟Is this what you were planning all along, you and Arzel? To use Cor as a distraction while Arzel’s demon worshiper buddies storm the compound and kill everyone?”
Outside in the hallway, shouts and thuds let us know that the fight has spilled deeper into the compound. No shots close-by so far, though. I can’t decide if that’s a good sign or not.
Asha sighs deeply, her face turning sad again. ‟The plan was to order your vampire to kill the Norseman by using the amulet you destroyed. It was never supposed to be this big, all-out fight. I would have never gone for a breach of contract of this size as a first solution, you know me that well at least.”
I give her a once-over, frowning. Whatever is happening right now, it could still be argued away as a human gang war, as long as the cultists don’t start shooting pink lightning, but what Asha says is also quite true. Our Hunter’s Mark works based on our own understanding and knowledge, not an outside set of rules, and it should have gotten activated at least once since Asha started to work with Arzel. I wonder why it didn’t. ‟That reminds me, how come you’re not screaming in pain?”
‟It’s a short-term fix. Arzel gave me this,” she explains and touches the antique-looking collar I noticed before. ‟It keeps the mark contained and hibernating, as long as I wear it. When we’re done here, Arzel will remove my mark permanently, and I’ll finally be free. Free from the Hunters, free from all this killing, from the monsters. I can have a normal life again, Gideon. I’m so close, I can almost taste it on my lips.”
I snort at her and roll my eyes. ‟He’s using you, Asha. You know that, right? If anyone could remove a Hunter’s Mark, more people would have done it already. The mark works because nobody can remove it; that is the whole idea behind it. Maybe that collar does the trick for a while, but you see what you did to yourself, right? You enslaved yourself to a demon cult. A pet Hunter, doing their bidding.”
‟You are mistaken. They get nothing out of this from me, except my help in getting Cor here.” She hesitates, her face turning pensive as she glances down at the collar again. ‟This is just to make sure that I keep my word and do my part of the deal, which I have done. Arzel has no reason not to remove the mark after this is over. And anyway, it’s worth it to finally be free of this curse.”
"Arzel, who couldn't care less about anyone's welfare but his own? The person who sold his soul to a demon and is, right now, killing dozens of people to get them out of the way of his demon summoning? That Arzel?" I fire back, my temper rising at the hopefulness in her voice. "He's a demon worshipping cultist, Asha. He's not your friend. He's using you. And he will find reason after reason to string you along and make you do things you’d never have done as a Hunter. You can’t even take that thing off ever again, your guilty conscience would kill you instantly. You’re trapped, don’t you see?"
