Ilona Andrews - Magic Slays

I waved my hands, sending bloody droplets through the air.

The vampire charged.

It all but flew above the ground with preternatural speed, straight at me, pulled by the intoxicating scent of blood.

I waited, my heartbeat impossibly loud in my ears. I’d have only one shot at this.

The vampire leaped, covering the few feet between us. It flew, limbs out, claws raised for the kill.

I thrust the chain loop up and over its head.

Its body hit me. The impact knocked me off my feet. I crashed to the ground and rolled upright. The vamp lunged at me. The chain snapped taut on its throat, yanking the undead off the pavement. The bloodsucker fell and sprung up, twisting and jerking on the end of the chain like a feral cat caught in a loop of a dogcatcher’s pole.

I took several steps back and took in a lungful of air.

The vampire flipped and lunged in my direction. The tree shook and groaned. It dug at the chain noose around its neck, gouging the undead flesh with its claws. Blood spurted from under the chain. Either it would snap the tree or the chain would slice its throat.

The bloodsucker threw itself at me again, snapping the chain taut, and fell to the ground, its leap aborted. It picked itself up and sat. Intelligence flooded into its burning red eyes. The huge jaws unhinged and Ghastek’s voice came forth.

“A chain?”

“You’re welcome.” About time he decided to make an appearance. “I cut an ox to get the vamp fixed on me. You need to compensate the owner.” The ox was its owner’s livelihood. No reason for him to get hurt because the People couldn’t keep their undead on a proper leash.

“Of course.”

You bet your ass, of course. An ox cost about a grand. A vampire, especially one as old as this one, went for about thirty times that.

The vampire squatted in the snow. “How did you manage to get a chain on her?”

“I have mad skills.” I wanted to sag against something, but showing weakness of any sort in front of Ghastek wasn’t a good idea. I might as well taunt a rabid wolf with a pork roast. My face was hot, my hands were cold. My mouth tasted bitter. The adrenaline rush was wearing off.

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

“One of Rowena’s journeymen fainted,” Ghastek said. “The woman is pregnant. It happens. Needless to say, she’s now barred from navigation.”

The journeymen, Masters of the Dead in training, were perfectly aware that if their control over the undead slipped, the vampire would turn the city into a slaughterhouse. They had nerves like fighter pilots pre-Shift. They didn’t faint. There was more to it, but Ghastek’s tone made it clear that getting any more information out of him would take a team of lawyers and a medieval torture device.

Just as well. The less I interacted with the People, the better. “Did it kill anybody?”

“There were no casualties.”

My pulse finally slowed down.

Several blocks away to my right, a Humvee swung into the street at breakneck speed. Armored like a tank, it carried an M240B, a medium machine gun, mounted on the roof. A PAD First Response Unit. The PAD, part of Atlanta’s Finest, dealt specifically with magic-related issues. The First Response Unit was their version of SWAT. They shot first and sorted through the bloody remains later.

“Cavalry,” I said.

The vampire grimaced, mimicking Ghastek’s expression. “Of course. The jocks got all dressed up to kill a vampire and now they won’t get to shoot the big gun. Kate, would you mind stepping closer? Otherwise they might shoot her anyway.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I moved to body-shield the vampire. “You owe me.”

“Indeed.” The bloodsucker rose next to me, waving its front limbs. “There is no need for concern. The matter is under control.”

A black SUV turned the corner into the street from the left. The two vehicles came to a screeching stop in front of me and the vampire. The Humvee disgorged four cops in blue Paranormal Activity Division armor.

The tallest of the four cops leveled a shotgun at the vamp and snarled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could’ve killed half of the city!”

The SUV’s door opened and Ghastek stepped out. Thin and somber, he wore a perfectly pressed gray suit with a barely visible pinstripe. Three members of the People emerged from the SUV behind him, a man and two women: a thin brunette and a red-haired woman who looked barely old enough to wear a suit. All three were meticulously groomed and would’ve looked at home in a high-pressure boardroom.

“There is no need to exaggerate.” Ghastek strode to the vampire. “No lives were lost.”

“No thanks to you.” The tall cop showed no signs of lowering the shotgun.

“She’s completely safe now,” Ghastek said. “Allow me to demonstrate.” The vampire rose from its haunches and curtsied.

The PAD collectively turned purple with rage.

I backpedaled toward my office, before they decided to remember I was there and drag me into this mess.

“See? I have complete control of the unde—” Ghastek’s eyes rolled back into his head. His mouth went slack. For a long second he remained upright, his body completely still, and then his legs gave. He swayed once and crashed into the dirty snow.

The vampire’s eyes flared bright murderous red. It opened its mouth, revealing twin sickles of ivory fangs.

The PAD opened fire.

THE GUNS ROARED.

The first bullet sliced into the vampire’s chest, punched through dry muscle, and bit Ghastek’s journeyman in the shoulder. He spun from the impact, and the steady stream of rounds from the M240B punctured the vampire and cut across the journeyman’s spine, nearly severing him in two. Blood sprayed.

The women hit the ground.

The bullets chipped the pavement. Half a foot to the right and Ghastek’s head would’ve exploded like a watermelon under a sledgehammer. I dived under gunfire, grabbed Ghastek’s legs, and pulled him out of the line of fire, backing up to my office.

The women crawled toward me across the pavement.

The vamp twisted around, shuddering under the barrage of bullets, leaped onto the fallen man, and tore into his back, flinging blood and flesh into the air.

I dragged Ghastek’s body over the doorstep and dropped him. Behind me, a woman screamed. I ran back, jumping over the dark-haired woman as she pulled herself through my doorway. In the street, the redheaded girl hugged the ground, clenching her thigh, her eyes huge as saucers. Blood stained the snow with painfully bright scarlet. Shot in the leg.

She was too far out in the street. I had to get her out of here before the vamp keyed on her or the PAD shot her again.

I dropped to the ground, crawled to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled with everything I had. She screamed, but slid a foot toward me across the pockmarked asphalt flooded with melting snow. I backed up and pulled again. Another scream, another foot to the door.

Breathe, pull, slide.

Breathe, pull, slide.

Door.

I pushed her inside, slammed the door shut, and barred it. It was a good door, metal, reinforced, with a four-inch bar. It would hold. It had to.

A wide red stain spread on the floor from the wounded woman’s leg. I knelt down and sliced her pant leg open. Blood spurted out of bullet-shredded muscle. The leg was ripped wide open. Bone shards glared at me, bathed in wet redness. Femoral artery cut, great saphenous vein cut, everything cut. Femur shattered.

Shit.

We would need a tourniquet.

“You! Put pressure here!”

The dark-haired girl stared at me with shocked glassy eyes. No intelligent life there. Every second counted.