CHAPTER 16 #2
I raise my crossbow, take aim with what looks like confidence, and release. The arrow flies wide, striking the wall behind him with a dull thud. I curse loudly, fumbling with the reload on purpose.
The vampire laughs, cold and haughty. “Sloppy. The standards for hunters must be slipping.”
My second shot goes even wider, embedding itself in one of the wooden beams overhead. “Stay still, damn it,” I growl, playing the part of a flustered rookie.
He advances, confidence swelling with each step. I fire again, this time grazing his shoulder. Vitae darkens the fabric of his coat, and he snarls, caught off guard more by the fact that I hit him at all than by the pain.
“You’ll regret that,” he growls, lunging.
I move to the side, stumbling deliberately, letting him believe he has me off balance.
He closes the distance again fast, driving me toward a corner where a real rookie might panic.
At the last second, I twist low and pull a hidden blade from my boot, slashing up across his ribs as I pass beneath his arm.
It’s a shallow but vicious cut, and from the way he recoils, the blade hit something important—or at least something unexpected.
He stumbles back, his eyes flaring with fury. His hand presses to his side, now leaking dark, sluggish blood. “You little—”
I ready another bolt, this one aimed properly.
No hesitation. No pretense.
The vampire hesitates, sizing me up again. His former arrogance has wavered, just slightly.
“You’ll regret that,” he spits, retreating into the shadows behind the filtration tank. “Let’s see how brave you are then.”
I let him go, lowering the weapon just enough to sell the act. The moment he vanishes, I press a finger to the comm at my collar.
“Target wounded. He’s going for reinforcements. Positions ready?”
One by one, the team confirms.
The trap is set.
Half an hour passes with excruciating slowness.
The warehouse remains silent except for the occasional skittering of rats and the distant hum of the city.
My muscles ache from standing still, tension coiled within me like a spring, the anticipation unnerving me.
The emptiness feels more ominous by the minute.
How far could the backup be? Was he out here all by himself?
Then I hear it: a soft footfall on the catwalk above. I resist the urge to look up, continuing to feign obliviousness.
“Movement on the upper level,” I whisper into my comm.
“I see it,” Lieutenant Whitlock replies. “Three figures, approaching from the western catwalk.”
The air shifts as a group of vampires descend. My pulse quickens, but I keep my posture relaxed, pretending to inspect the area ahead while tracking their movements by sound alone.
A soft rattle echoes through my earpiece as Martinez’s voice comes through. “I have visual on Wraith.”
The vampires press closer, circling me, shadows brushing the edges of my awareness.
“Now,” Lexa orders through the comm.
Floodlights blaze from concealed positions, bathing the interior in harsh white illumination. Vampires hiss, momentarily blinded.
I turn and launch myself at the first target in sight, dagger ready.
It slices through the neck of one vampire, who staggers back, clutching at the wound as the G-oil begins its work.
Next to him, another vampire recovers its sight and snarls.
I duck under a sweeping forearm, then stab deep into a thigh before reaching for one of the spray bottles on my glove to ward off three other vampires coming at me.
A spinning kick takes me past another attacker when fingers brush my shoulder before I can fully evade, tearing through the fabric of my jacket.
Clementine.
She lunges, moving faster than even my dhampir eyes can track. I raise my dagger to block, but she bats it aside effortlessly. Her hand closes around my throat, squeezing hard, black spots dancing at the corners of my vision.
A shot rings out, and Clementine jerks backward. A lumen round has pierced her shoulder, momentarily breaking her concentration. She whirls to face the attacker.
Lexa stands ten feet away, her pistol trained on Clementine’s heart. “Step away from her.”
Clementine’s lips curl into a smile. “Captain Ventura.”
I don’t recall them being acquainted, but it’s no surprise Lexa’s mighty reputation precedes her.
Following her mark, teams converge from all entrances.
Rhodes and Martinez rappel from the ceiling, firing bullets in all directions.
Wei and Keller burst through the side doors, herding the other vampires toward the center with a combination of G-sprays, daggers, and Dr. Song’s Disruptor.
Within seconds, slayers have flooded the area and cornered the vampires, including our target.
Lexa taps her earpiece. “Initiate Phase Two.”
My comm crackles, then cuts to static. Just for a second, but long enough to make my gut twist.
Dozens of glowing red eyes appear in the darkness, surrounding us on all sides.
Rhodes wastes no time. She raises her weapon and fires three shots in rapid succession, each one finding its mark in a vampire’s chest—dead.
The backup team emerges from hiding and springs into action.
Gunfire erupts from multiple positions. Arrows whiz from a far distance outside.
Smoke bombs fly through the air, thudding against the floor and hissing as they detonate, blanketing the facility in reeking clouds and warding off the closest vampires like poison.
I dive for cover, choking on the remnants of smoke I couldn’t avoid, my hand instinctively drawing my dagger in one fluid motion.
There was no command.
Because this is the command. The fallback. The safeguard drilled into muscle memory, meant only for disaster.
When comms die, formation fractures, and the only option left is survival, we fade or fight. In other words, retreat if possible, but engage if you must.
I scramble behind a steel pillar as bullets whine past, then pivot and fire at a pair of advancing shadows.
One drops, but the other keeps coming, hissing, until a sniper shot takes it through the chest and drops it like a puppet with cut strings.
“Status report?” I bark into the comm, even knowing what I’ll get.
Static.
I press my back to the pillar, breath ragged, senses wide open.
Screams echo from the far end of the building, both human and vampire. Shadows move above me on the catwalks, too many to count. My blood runs cold as I realize what’s happening. This isn’t just the Whiteshade and her cohorts. This is an army. Dozens of them.
Lexa’s voice comes through, steady despite the chaos. “Seraph, get to extraction point Charlie. We’re outnumbered.”
Hearing her voice brings an unexpected sense of relief, grounding me right when I need it most. Moving low and fast, I retrace my steps toward the same door I entered through earlier, when everything was still under control.
Smoke now chokes the aisles between machinery, thick with the bitter burn of gardenia.
It stings my skin, eyes, and lungs, slowing me down with every breath.
I have to grip the edge of a rusted pipe to steady myself as a fresh volley of gunfire erupts behind me.
When the smoke thins out, I spot the narrow doorway swinging crooked on its hinge, exactly as I left it.
I hastily dart through, back into the cold night air.
The sudden exposure hits hard, like surfacing from underwater, but I can’t stop.
Keeping low, I follow the emergency evac route we mapped earlier.
Memory guides me more than sight: right at the collapsed scaffolding.
Through the breach in the chain-link fence. Down the rustic embankment.
Behind me, the facility roars with an inhuman howl from inside. There’s more shouts, gunfire, and the unmistakable wet tearing noise that means vampires have reached our front lines.
“Lieutenant Keller is down!” someone yells over the comm, and my heart sinks. “Repeat, Keller is down!”
No, not again. How is this possible? We came overprepared.
I reach a junction and freeze, my body telling me to go back. To help. To prevent more deaths in vain.
I gulp once, hard, then speed back until my path is blocked by three vampires, their eyes gleaming red in the darkness.
I pivot, heading down an alternate route, only to find it similarly obstructed. They’re herding me, I realize with mounting dread. Like wolves circling prey.
“I’m heading back,” I report, even if static is my only answer. It’s my signal to them to hold out for as long as they can, while I take care of these pesky vampires obstructing me.
My comm crackles.
“Seraph…” Lexa’s voice is strained and breathless. “D-don’t come. It’s a trap.”
My pulse thrums in my throat, backed against the wall to eliminate one angle of attack.
The vampires surge forward and I spin into action, my dagger flashing as I cut through the first line of attackers.
The G-oil does its work, searing vampire flesh and filling the air with the stench of burning.
I activate the other spray on my gloves, sending a fine mist of gardenia extract into the faces of those who get too close.
They recoil, screaming as their skin blisters and peels.
“Where are you?” I demand through my comm, already moving in the direction of her last known position.
To my relief, it crackles.
“Look up, darling.” A slow, almost amused voice slithers through the comm. “On the rooftop.”
Through the shifting veil of fog left hanging in the air, I catch eerie movement above. Just a flicker at first, a silhouette through the haze. I look up, squinting past the rising gardenia vapor to the rooftop of the treatment plant.
There, half-obscured by darkness and swirling mist, stands a lean figure, broad-shouldered and hauntingly still.
His bone-white hair stirs a shade in the wind, a few loose strands framing a face carved with cruel amusement.
His eyes gleam, fixed on me like a predator enjoying the moment before the pounce.