Authors: Nerine Dorman
Helen tried not to gasp for breath. What hope in hell did she have evading experienced hunters?
Five against one. She was screwed.
She stretched out her awareness again, alarmed by the proximity of two of the vampires she’d sensed earlier.
Time to go to ground.
The next nearest pocket of power was across a narrow walkway and she dashed toward it. The only natural landmark hiding her from prying eyes was a stand of bamboo but if she crouched and sat still, she might fool a casual glance. All the while, the other two closed in.
I’m not here. I’m not here.
Her mouth went dry and her limbs twitched with the need to run as far and as fast as possible.
The first vampire passed through an open patch of lawn to her left, a tall, thin man with a beak-like nose. He paused in mid stride when he stood abreast of her hiding place, so close she could see how his nostrils flared.
I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here.
He frowned, his skin almost translucent in the starlight. Then he shook his head as if trying to get water out of his hair, and stalked away, stopping every two or three paces.
Helen allowed herself to sag. Now, where was the other one? She pushed out her awareness, gratified that this business of becoming more psychically aware became easier with each attempt. She would have cursed out loud if she could, however, for it was as if a thick mist had descended over the area.
The only consolation was that they might be as blind as she was. This thought did not bring as much comfort as she’d hoped. Given time, they would, no, could run her down. Until the dawn. The sunrise seemed impossibly distant in her future.
Helen watched and waited a while longer, desperate to move but equally afraid that no place she sought would prove as safe as any other. What were her options? Should she make for the car? Would the vampires be watching that exit, knowing their prey might choose to make a break for it? Choices were good. A big park in the heart of an urban environment would have more than one entry point, though. That made sense. How would they hunt for her? Perhaps they’d try to cover as much ground, watch as many of the main thoroughfares. Vampires couldn’t be in all places at the same time.
One last attempt at gaining a better understanding beyond the supernatural mist that swirled about the garden proved futile, so she listened for any suspicious noise–none–looked for movement then clung to the periphery of the wooded section ahead of her, putting down each step with care.
She’d thought her way clear until a man spoke quietly by her ear, his voice masculine but gentle. Johannes. “Going somewhere, girl? Do you know how eagles hunt? Sometimes the pairs will fly with one visible, the other following, out of sight. The prey will concentrate so much on the visible bird they often forget that there is another.”
Helen stiffened, not daring to turn. His breath was cold on her right ear and she could curse herself for being unaware.
“What do you want?”
“You, of course.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Nothing, save introduce you to those who care much for you, Miss Helen.”
His words struck cold terror through her.
Cold fingers clasped around the flesh of her upper right arm.
“Come. Don’t make this difficult for us. Your fate has always been unavoidable.”
Helen turned to face a man no taller than she. He bore the unmistakable signs of San heritage, with his tight peppercorn curls and slits for eyes, as if he had been squinting against the sun for too long. Only his ghostly pallor gave him away as being somehow,
other
.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Some have called me Jan Regop but you can call me Johannes.”
“Why, Johannes? Why me?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Helen.” He looked down. “I only follow my masters’ wishes.”
“What would you do if you could have your own way?”
“I’d watch you, for a while. Perhaps we’d talk and I’d show you my forefathers’ stars.”
“That is cold comfort.”
“I’m sorry, Miss.”
Why was it difficult to hate her captor? Why had she been so afraid? His fathomless black eyes blinked back at her.
Vampires still blinked?
The gesture made him seem almost human.
“Will they hurt me?”
“I can’t answer that question.”
Chapter 37
Digging Old Cows out of Ditches
Trystan hated walking into a situation without knowing what lay ahead. He chose patches of shadow and avoided open sections of lawn. His route took him along the edge of a tall, squared-off hedge which bordered a footpath running along the edge. He paused every few paces to listen and scent at the air, disconcerted by the faint trace of rotted fish that permeated this area.
Fish, here?
The thought fled when a movement to his left, at the crest of a small acacia-covered hill, caught his eye. The glimpse had been quick but he was certain he’d seen the turn of a too-white face framed by long black hair. Mantis!
Immediately he dashed ahead to a gap while cursing the lack of his ability to
reach
through the cloying muddle of Essence blanketing everything. Trystan moved on cat feet, and reveled in being the predator, for a change. Tonight he’d stop running.
Mantis, however, was neither foolish nor unaware of her situation. She twisted to Trystan’s right then cut across a large open expanse, her limbs a blur.
Damn!
She was fast but she had not recently supped on the heart’s blood of her kindred. Trystan’s Essence flared through his limbs and he gained on the female.
He crashed into a thicket close on her heels. The thorns ripped into the skin on his face, hands and feet but he did not register any pain.
Mantis made the error of looking over her shoulder, collided with a low branch, and fell back with a crunch of cartilage accompanied by a soft grunt.
All that ran through Trystan’s mind was how much and how long he had desired to suck down this particular vampire’s Essence.
His teeth grazed an exposed neck at the same moment cold steel penetrated the base of his throat, pricking through flesh and sinew to whisper against his spine.
“I have claws, Trystan.” Her voice carried the promise of death, which sliced sense into his actions, though he couldn’t move to kill or retreat.
“An impasse, then, Mantis.” His extended canines tickled her flesh. His right hand found her left, pinning it to the ground.
She retaliated by digging her fingernails into the top of his hand, drawing blood.
“You’re at a disadvantage. Do you honestly think you can tear out my throat before I sever your spinal column?”
“You won’t find out until it’s too late, will you?” He kept his lips brushing against her skin, each movement intended to remind her of lethal fangs.
She chuckled but relented some of the pressure that threatened his nervous system. Trystan pulled hard at his Essence and shifted it to speed his reflexes. To her credit, Mantis anticipated the move but could not match him. Pain blossomed in his throat when he grabbed her knife-wielding hand, neutralizing that particular threat. The blade gleamed dark and wet with his blood.
“What’s your game, Mantis? Not liking it so much now that you’ve discovered I’m not such a pushover?”
“I never thought you were a pushover, although I must admit I was surprised when you followed me so meekly all the way to Knysna. A clever ruse, though methinks you don’t know your own strength.”
Small bones in her wrist gave with a dull snap, crushed in his hand. Mantis couldn’t quite hide her grimace.
There was no pity, if she’d hoped for it, which he doubted. He gave a bitter smile. Hers was the resignation of a predator who knew when the game was up. “And now I’m supposed to apologize for injuring a lady? You’re trying to distract me from the purpose of this confrontation.”
“What? To suck out the last of my Essence like you did with the half-dozen other vampires you’ve murdered over the years? Don’t think your actions have gone unnoticed.”
“No! God damn it!” Trystan lurched both of them to their feet and slammed the female vampire against a tree trunk. More bones snapped.
This time Mantis did cry out.
“What have you done with Helen?”
“Nothing.” The word whistled through Mantis’s clenched teeth.
Dull, flat hatred blazed out of eyes almost without pupils. Years of carefully cultured humanity fell away, replaced by the feral visage of a beast brought to bay. What did she want with Helen?
Mantis’s laughter was a low, chilling sound–almost a snarl. “Oh, I see now, you are fond of the little pet, aren’t you? It will be all the more delicious then when I bring her over to our ranks.”
“She’s just a girl!”
“When did that ever matter, Trystan? Do you think humans care for the lambs or cattle they slaughter every day?”
“Compare apples with apples. Who are you really working for? The Black Pope was most interested when I told him about the girl. He mentioned that he’d requested–no, in fact ordered–that you bring him subjects to aid in his campaign. Now, the way I look at it, Helen definitely represents a rather valuable potential subject, yet you abandon me on his Little Lordship’s doorstep without checking in–which is highly suspicious if you ask me. You bank on me keeping my precious little secret while you go running after the prize of the century yourself.”
Mantis growled, so he twisted her injured hand with more force. Bones crackled, joints rubbing against joints, on the verge of being pulverized.
“So, if there are
jagters
from Jozi–I recognized their Essences before the static–then you are not here representing the interests of the Johannesburg elders. Neither, do I expect you to have healed the rift in your relationship with the Cape Colony elders, so what’s the deal here?”
“Ashton Murray rules in Cape Town.”
“He’s younger than I am. He may have the colony by its balls–which is hardly surprising–but I can’t see you according him much respect, either. He borders on being a pariah like me, even if he has not taken that first, definite step. What is your game?”
“Maybe I’m not here under Ashton’s orders,” Mantis hissed. “There are other elders in the city, many of whom have a bone to pick with him.”
“Somehow, Mantis, you don’t inspire much confidence in me and I doubt you’d do the same for those who have more status than I.”
“Good! Then I won’t disappoint you when I do this!”
Somehow she’d managed to gather enough force to pull up her leg to kick him a glancing blow to his knee, knocking him off balance. Sharp pain and a crunch informed him that cartilage had torn away from ligaments. Although Mantis was able to free one hand, he gripped her right.
The female vampire let out a short, angry yelp.
Bloody hell, at this rate the others would zone in on them.
Mantis flung herself on top of Trystan, and raked with her free hand. A sharp fingernail narrowly missed his eye.
In retaliation, he wrapped both legs around one of hers and rolled her onto her back, delivering a blow heavy enough to break a human’s neck.
She was ready for this and the strike glanced off her cheek when she ducked her head. She bit hard, her fangs sinking with delicious agony into the meat below his wrist. While Mantis’s jaws ground, her eyes blazed, furious. Trystan had often likened a vampire’s bite to that of a large predator and he was not far off, for Mantis jerked her head to the side, her teeth shearing through muscle, tendon and bone as she dragged a mouthful of flesh away.
Trystan stared stupidly at the wound, the dark blood welling through the damage.
Of course it wouldn’t spurt. His heart didn’t beat anymore.
His moment of inattention cost Trystan his advantage. Mantis thrust him away from her, and his grip was loose enough for her to free her other hand.
She kicked savagely so that his cheekbone snapped as her boot impacted with his face. The pain was relative. There was so much of it and, besides, the world exploded into stars before a moment of darkness swallowed him and he could bring his surroundings into definition again.