Immortally Yours, An Urban Fantasy Romance (Monster MASH, Book 1) (28 page)

It would break apart soon enough.
 

Sweat slicked my palms. No. I'd get it out.
 

"There." I saw it. Right below the skin, traveling toward the heart. "Damn it. I need that knife!"
 

The guard handed me a small military dagger with a three-angled blade. Perfect. Torches blazed down. Good. "Now get out of my light."
 

I traced the bulge of metal with the tip of my knife, following its deadly path under his skin until I got ahead of it. I sliced, pulse pounding as blood pooled in the wound, blocking my view. I didn't have a nurse. I didn't have suction. But I could do this.
 

I spread my fingers, adding pressure on either side, coaxing the tip out.
 

My breath hitched and I fought a flood of panic. "Where is it?" I didn't see it.
 

Spiros bucked. "Hold him down."
 

Shit.
 

"Wait." I saw it. Two inches above my incision, still heading for the heart. I adjusted my angle, my shadow falling long over the colonel's heaving chest. I could do it. I just needed to get a better look. One more second.
 

And then it split.
 

My throat closed.
 

It split again.
 

One shard disappeared into his body. Then another. Cold fear swamped me. I'd never be able to get all of them. At that moment, I realized Spiros had been watching me. A soldier braced his head. Another, held his arms. His small eyes glittered with pain.
 

I held his gaze. "I'm sorry," I said. For what, I wasn't even sure. For coming here, for being blind enough not to suspect Thaïs, for failing to save his life.
 

The old colonel knew he was dying. And unlike the movies, where it's a peaceful, even reverent moment, this one sucked. Spiros lurched forward, coughing blood.
 

My jaw grit as I showed his soldier how to hold his commander's head at a more comfortable angle and used my coat to wipe the blood from the Spiros's mouth. There was nothing else I could do.
 

The light intensified above us and I looked up to see a ring of soldiers, weapons drawn and expressions tight.
 

The sun had set all the way. Darkness pressed in behind them.
 

"I'm sorry," I said. I had no doubt Spiros was an honorable commander. Death was never fair.
 

Even an immortal like Spiros could lose everything in this war.
 

He'd stopped choking, his face red. I used my clean sleeve to wipe some of the sweat from his cheeks and forehead. I moved aside a bronzed basilisk tooth he wore on a leather chain. It was glacial to the touch, even though his body was burning up.
 

I wiped his neck and shoulders. I had no doubt he was just trying to protect his people, like I was.
 

The soldiers stiffened as they realized their colonel was indeed dying. I saw grief, and fear.
 

"He controls the Shrouds," one of them said.
 

Hold up. "What?" My mind raced to process the ramifications of that as I stared down at my patient. His eyes flew open as another coughing fit seized him. "What are you talking about?"
 

I knew they had to control the Shrouds somehow, but they couldn't leave it up to one man. Even if he was supposed to be immortal.
 

The soldiers began pulling away. I took full hold of my patient as they eased his arms and head down onto the dirt. I turned him onto his side as he spewed blood onto the ground.
 

"He won't lose his soul," said the guard who'd held the knife on me. "He'll die. His soul will be saved."
 

"But when he dies—" another began.
 

Understanding crept over me. Oh hell.
 

"Pull out!" The soldiers made a coordinated dash for their vehicles.
 

"You got that bomb?" one called to another. "Get rid of it."
 

"Wait," I hollered, my hand still circling the colonel's back, trying to give him some dignity, some comfort as he drowned in his own blood. There had to be another way. Kosta would have had a backup plan. Spiros had to have one, too.
 

The soldiers thundered past me, in full withdrawal, some firing up the trucks as others continued to climb in the back.
 

The ground shook as a bomb detonated somewhere off in the open desert.
 

"Go, go, go!" a sergeant hollered as he ran past.
 

"At least take the patients!" The humans might die. The immortals would suffer. But these people deserved to keep their souls.
 

The torches danced. The Shrouds stirred, restless and hungry. Waiting.
 

"Oh boy." I rubbed at Spiros's back, mind racing, trying to think of something—anything—I could do.
 

I could run. Leave. Let Spiros die with his face in the dirt. It wasn't right and it wasn't honorable but in the all out battle against terror, it was hard not to think that way.
 

Damn Thaïs and the old army.
 

If Thaïs was even alive anymore.
 

Spiros doubled over, grabbing my coat as he pitched for-ward. He clutched at the bronze tooth at his neck, ripping the cord. He fisted it, shoving it against my coat, holding it there as he died.
 

Holy hell.
 

I watched the colonel's spirit rise up out of his body. He looked to his troops, in full retreat as they sped down the road. Then he turned slowly back to me. He nodded before he faded away.
 

The tooth in his fist flashed like lightning, blinding me. Electricity sizzled in the air and I realized the spell had broken.
 

The soldiers were gone. It was me and the injured. And the Shrouds.
 

Blinking against orange spots, I desperately peeled the dead man's fingers from the necklace.
 

The Shrouds closed in.
 

"Back!" I yelled, holding up the tooth, praying it would be enough.
 

They recoiled as a unit. I wanted to collapse in relief.
 

But they could still go for the soldiers. The flames crackled from the few remaining torches as I eased away from the commander.
 

I said a quick, silent prayer of thanks that I'd made it this far. The necklace had to be some kind of talisman. It burned cold against my skin. No doubt this thing was meant for a god, or a demi-god at least.
 

I saw my bronze dagger on the ground and took that, too.
 

The Shrouds let out a low, rustling hiss as I dashed toward the soldiers. I tripped as I reached them, knees in the dirt, hand closed tight around our only protection.
 

It was making me dizzy, weak. I could feel it draining me.
 

The Shrouds knew, too. They hovered, waiting. The big one on the end rocked back and forth, as if it were itching to pounce. I could feel its hunger.
 

I climbed back to my feet, doing my best to stand strong in front of the soldiers, afraid to look back. The talisman grew more and more frigid, searing me with ice. I held it tight, fighting it even as it drew the very life out of me.
 

My knees gave way once more and I knelt in the dirt. The night had gone black, the winds chilling.
 

It was hard to breathe, impossible to think.
 

I felt the heat and the energy seep from my body. This must be how my patients felt as they died.
 

Squeezing my fingers, I concentrated, focused, tried to hold on to the talisman. I knew I was dead the moment I let go. That's not what stopped me. It's what would happen to everyone else.
 

The Shroud on the end inched forward.
 

I couldn't hold on much longer. I was too weak. Too cold.
 

My fingers loosened and I felt the talisman slip.
 

The Shrouds rushed forward and I held them back with the knife.
 

"Petra!" Galen's voice echoed across the desert.
 

How did he get here? I wanted to tell him to run, get away. The Shrouds whipped their bodies in a frenzy of need, waiting to be unleashed.
 

My body felt dry, used up, like it could blow away in the wind.
 

My fingers were numb. I couldn't feel the talisman.
It was gone.
 

A flash erupted below me. The spell broke. I wanted to cry for it, but no sound came out.
 

The Shrouds shrieked and charged.
 

I stabbed at the rotting, filthy soul eaters with my dagger crying in dry heaves. Their moans scratched like sandpaper as putrid dust rained down.
 

The ground shook as Marius landed to the left of me.
 

"I got her," he said, swooping me up under my arms. My body went light and I realized we were flying.
 

My face pressed against his shoulder. My head swam.
 

"The Shrouds," I tried to explain, voice tight.
 

"Are a problem. I know." We hit the ground with a thud and I heard Marius ripping open the back door of an ambulance. "You drove them back with that knife, but nothing kills them.
 

"Sit," he said, planting me on the back rise. "I'm going to get the wounded."
 

Sweet Jesus. I'd driven back the Shrouds.
 

My hands shook, my body felt like rubber. I'd lost the knife. Hopefully back where Galen could find it. Marius hadn't taken me far, I realized, my fingers clenching against metal. This was our ambulance.
 

I coughed, trying to get my bearings. I was facing the black of the desert, I could see the halo of light from the battleground behind me.
 

The second oracle had come true—I'd arrested the forces of the damned.
 

I blinked and Marius was back, sliding a stretcher into the ambulance next to me. Then another, moving at super-speed. "Tell Galen to wear the talisman around his neck," I managed to remind him, through the haze.
 

"He's holding his own," he said, buckling a man into place. "For now at least." A lock of blond hair fell over his eye as he double-checked the other patient. Then he was gone.
 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rant and rave and find the talisman and do something that would actually make a difference. I slid off the back of the ambulance, struggling to focus.
 

Gripping the metal side, I fought to stand as I watched Galen holding back the Shrouds. They writhed and twisted like snakes as they stalked him. Sword at the ready, talisman up, he backed across the desert, leading them away.
 

Sweet Jesus, he'd better not die out there trying to save us.
 

I fell straight forward.
 

My cheek and shoulder slammed into the dirt, along with the rest of me. But those were the parts that hurt the most.
 

No telling how long I lay there until Marius's boots crunched in the dirt next to me. "Damn it, Petra."
 

He shoved me into the back like a sack of potatoes.
 

"Go, go, go!" Marius hollered as he slammed the door closed.
 

The ambulance lurched forward, throwing me across the floor.
 

"Wait," I creaked, my voice refusing to work. Had Galen made it back?
 

Marius was already working on patients as I tried to pick myself up.
 

The rocks in my head made it hard, as did the thrashing of the ambulance as it bounced over the desert. The metallic tang in the air made me sick to my stomach.
 

"Is she okay?" Galen barked from the driver's seat.
 

I closed my eyes. Thank heaven.
 

"Yes. Drive," Marius answered.
 

My eyes refused to open and I gave in, letting Marius take charge. He was a good doctor, one of the best. It's what had doomed him to eternity with Commander Kosta, but at the moment, I was sure grateful for it.
 

"Sorry I don't have a spot for you, roomie," Marius said, laying me out on the floor and bundling something soft under my head.
 

I wanted to tell him that was okay, but I blacked out instead, dreaming of phantoms chasing us across the desert.
 

Even in my dreams, though, I knew it was only a fantasy. It had to be. Otherwise we'd be dead already.
 

There was no telling how much time had passed before I was awoken by a bright light and the overwhelming stench of Drakkar.
 

"Physically, you check out." I opened my eyes to see Marius hovering above me. The motion of the ambulance jostled him from side to side.
 

"Thanks," I said weakly, grateful to be able to say anything. "What about our patients?"
 

His mouth formed a thin line. Marius wasn't the type to sugarcoat it. "We lost both of the humans. They bled out." His eyes held regret. "Kosta and Rodger are prepping for surgery back at the post. I'm taking the third. We should be there in a few minutes."
 

I started to sit up as the ambulance took a hard left. "Wait." My head swam and I lay back down, wincing. "Three?"
 

"Thaïs is hanging in there."
 

I swallowed, trying to process it. "I could have sworn he was dead."
 

Marius's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "So you didn't hear him screaming. I neutralized the poison. Now he's just full of holes."