Chapter 34 Kill It Twice
Kill It Twice
A blast of untutored power from inside the car was, at least, a sign that she was still alive and conscious; Erik’s boots slid through a mix of ice and greasy slush, finding purchase as the rage took him.
If there was ever any doubt that someone had betrayed them, it was now gone—and with it, the need to keep things quiet.
If the Mad God’s bastards would attack during daylight, Erik was more than happy to teach them the folly of that tactic.
The ibling, toadlike and armored against what weak sunshine could penetrate driving snow and heavy cloud, leapt not for him but for the green SUV and its precious, vulnerable inhabitant.
He caught it at apogee, driving down with a jolt, his right-hand knife slipping through leathery skin, probing for the nerve-juncture at the back of the heavy, ungainly head.
It hiss-screeched as he popped a single shot into it, jolt of recoil slamming his left wrist. That was just to distract the thing; the real weapon was the force along his curved crystalline knife blade, burrowing in, seeking, the hot businesslike joy of a fight filling him with silty red wine.
You could just take her, you know. Find a quiet corner, seal her up—
The tip of his blade found a gap and he shoved it home, withdrawing as the ibling went limp, limbs twitching with nerve-death corruption racing through its tissues.
He unfolded in a leap, colliding with the half-seen clot of nightmare shadow scratching at the shivering, shattering front passenger window, and Liv’s scream was a spur to an already maddened beast.
The snow thickened, a knife-sharp wind aiming the blast in his direction; Erik’s eyes, half-closed against sandblast-scour and the bonesnapping impact, told him the thing couldn’t be another sarnaki.
It wasn’t an ibling either, and he was frantically trying to figure out what would be out during daylight and capable of this much coherence when the knife, wiser than he was, plunged deep, rose dripping, and plunged again.
Training forced him into a crouch as the thing howled, and training helped him again, pushing the gun to the correct angle and squeezing off another single shot, a thundercrack muffled by driving snow and a subtle, slow, creeping illusion-poison.
Well, that answered the question of what he was facing.
Erik stabbed again, the blade sinking into half-real resistance like warming gelatin.
The kthul howled, more snow gusting and spinning—it was using the weather as a cover; the Mad God’s troops had been given plenty of time to prepare this little set-piece battle.
Maybe they hadn’t counted on Jake warning him. Or maybe Jake had been a distraction and the real danger was out there, lurking amid veils of falling white.
Kthul could stand weak sunlight, especially if weakened still further by their illusion-veils. They were nasty, slip-shifting things, more suited to feeding on unsuspecting and halfway gifted mortals than facing a wary, angry Son.
It tried to retreat as stubby vestigial wings worked frantically, blundering along the side of the still-rocking vehicle; the SUV’s engine was making a high whining sound and there was a sharp stink of gasoline.
Liv hadn’t stopped screaming; she probably hadn’t even run out of breath yet.
Things were happening far too quickly for a civilian to comprehend.
Just hold on, beautiful. I’m working.
The only problem was, kthul never hunted alone.
He stabbed again, the blade finding one of its blood-bladders deep below the skin; the smell was colossal, titanic.
An unclean thing shuddered into death under him; Erik rose, eyes still half-closed, the gun blurring for its holster.
He had to turn, putting his back to the car, and at least the reek of gas was better than the smell of dead, fish-rotting kthul.
“Liv,” he said, sharp and low to cut through the moan of the wind and the engine’s ratcheting. It didn’t sound good under that hood, no sir. “Liv, sweetheart, talk to me.”
She gasped, a deep terrible coughing sound. Was she hurt? Had the goddamn thing managed to lay a finger on her?
If it did, I’ll kill it twice, he decided, and the relief of having a clear course of action was just as dangerous as the whispering.
The door moved, hitting his hip; he took a half-step aside and kept watch on the shifting snow. More gunfire, but he couldn’t tell from exactly where.
Jake, for the love of the Dreamers, don’t do anything stupid. Erik’s priority now was the woman who slithered out of the broken-backed car, clutching at his left elbow with both her soft, pretty hands—and if he had to move to meet another fucking kthul, he’d be handicapped.
“Oh, God.” A broken almost-sob. “Erik?”
“Hurt?” He coughed to clear his dry throat. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
She was doing her best to keep up; snow kissed her tangled hair. “I don’t… oh, God, what the hell is that?”
“Kthul.” He had his breath now, and tried to ignore her patting at his elbow. “Dead. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?” A jagged, half-screaming little laugh escaped her, vanishing into the snow. “Don’t fucking worry?”
That’s right, beautiful. They won’t even get close enough to smell your perfume.
Except they had. A kthul had been within arm’s length of her.
Standing and fighting was an option, sure.
But he had a lirai to protect, and the temple had to be close.
It might even be under attack, and another potential to add to the force of the Dreamers inside its walls would be welcome, not to mention another Son to help hold the defenses.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t felt it once they were off the freeway?
Erik found out he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the shivering woman next to him, her oneiros lighting with deep coruscating colors and her warmth about to be lost in a whirling, unnatural storm.
Snow smacked ceaselessly at them and she shivered again, her eyes wide and wild like a frightened animal’s.
That decided him. The knife, flicked free and clean of ichor, slid back into its home; his arm circled her waist. “Stay with me,” he said, and gathered himself. “Just stay with me.”
It was time to vanish. The SUV stilled its rocking, a spill of gasoline lighting with a soft wump lost under the sound of the storm.