The dawn was hours from rising when the car came to a sudden—and inconvenient—halt.
On our initial approach to the La Voisin coven, I'd noted the presence of obstacles strewn across the desert plain and had considered the prospective difficulty of night travel, but considering those problems and actually suffering through them were very different experiences. Driving in the dark with both headlights busted from ramming the gate was nearly impossible, the road invisible against the velvet of the night sky. I navigated by feel alone, listening to the pop of gravel and scratch of sand, veering when the tires dipped and threatened to leave the trail.
Whatever technical mechanism controlled the vehicle's system continued to short, and within an hour, smoke began to billow from beneath the hood. The acrid veil rolled across the splintered windshield and seeped through the cracks, poisoning the air with its burning fugue. I was forced to yield when the smoke became too thick to see through, and neither of us could breathe.
"Dammit!" I snapped, spilling from the car, the ground collapsing beneath the weight of my leg. I stood upon the cracked edge of a shallow, dry creek bed, sand pouring into my shoes as the prickle bushes tore at my clothes. "The Pit take this blasted place!"
I used the lever located inside the car to lift its hood, and more smoke billowed into the spangled stratosphere. Nose buried in my sleeve, I looked over the hissing engine block and recoiled from the waves of heat rising off the scorched metal. Had I been a Sin, I could've pulled the essence into me and devoured what transient memories yet clung to the car, the past recollections of mechanics and the engineers who'd touched the vehicle—but, as a human, I couldn't rely upon that skill to learn.
I stared at the mess before me and realized that if I couldn't solve this, if I couldn't force my mortal brain to figure out a solution with the use of essence or the past memories it held, we would be stranded here, in the middle of nowhere.
I dropped into a crouch and covered my face with my usable arm, sinking my teeth into the mound of my palm. Why was this so difficult? Driving cross-country should have been a simple, albeit time consuming, process. Why did every possible upset seem to occur to me? Why was doing this so bloody impossible?!
My rage and loss, frustration and hopelessness, fulminated inside my chest until my heart and breath were crushed by the pressure. I didn't think I could do this. My head was too unclear, my soul too heavy with grief not yet shed. My desire to see Sara again was fierce, and there were other losses, other changes that were just as persistent, and the culminating effect was devastating.
My brother was gone—dead and buried on some forsaken mountain by my own hands. Recent memories of him were blighted by his madness, but he'd been my closest confidant for millennia. I missed the quickness of his wit, the fervor with which he'd fought and studied. Quiet, worldly Sethan who'd studied magic to tear it apart brick by brick.
Cuxiel and I hadn't seen eye to eye on most issues, but the man had always been good to me. He'd been a guiding hand, a voice of reason. Sometimes, he'd been the only one stopping me from giving into the monster of Pride, and he was gone.
Maudlin fits disgusted me, but moments like this were too much too quickly, and I didn't have an option to vent my ire or my irritation. It just festered under my skin until it was unbearable and I couldn't withstand it for another second. I wanted to scream my anger into the sky and demand what I was due—but be it by cosmic force or King, I knew this misfortune was exactly what I deserved. Having stolen a thousand lifetimes from time's grasp and ended a thousand more, I didn't deserve to win. I deserved to lose.
It is strange how, when thoughts of those closest to us do not give comfort, it is the words of our enemies we hear ringing in our minds. "Humans are such needlessly noisy creatures," Balthier sneered as I suddenly recalled the way his green eyes had blazed. "Always screaming without benefit."
I took a breath, then another, caging it within my chest until it hurt.
I would not scream without benefit. I was too damn old and too damn clever for such frivolous dramatics.
Only a moment had passed, so I allowed myself one more before rising from the dirt and settling my attention on the situation at hand.
The coven was miles to the west, though the faintest touch of light remained upon the blackened plain, like an unquenched ember lying dormant in scattered cinders. Above, the sky was incandescent, the earth below rendered dark, listless, and blind. The flat desert lacked any color, and for miles in all directions I was met with the sight of uncompromising night. No towns, structures, or light anywhere.
I returned my eyes to the car and the smoke still roiling from its guts. The witch had the dome light on inside the vehicle, making us the only beacon for a dozen leagues.
The perfect target for a horde of furious mages.
"Turn it off!" I commanded, rounding the hood to reach the driver's door. "Turn off the light!"
I reacted faster than the witch, flipping the switch as the woman lifted her head. Before the light was killed, I saw Saule's face—and the tears streaking her red cheeks.
"Stop crying," I told her, unnerved by the visible sign of distress. I didn't need a distraught witchling to add to my problems.
The Baba Yaga witch sniffled, choking on a wet, miserable sob. "This was a stupid idea," she wailed as her voice cracked and wavered. "Why did I think I could do this? Why did I think I'd be able to help the Mistress? I'm just a no-account, twig-biting, potion-pusher! I shouldn't have left the city. What am I even doing here?!"
"You're being ridiculous, that's what you're doing here."
"I don't care—!"
"Stop crying!" I punctuated my words with an open hand blow to the dash. The digital clock flickered on, then went out when the battery died. "Your tears and foolishness will not accomplish anything."
Saule hiccuped, and through the dusty window the moonlight shone on the side of her wet face. She made a helpless, terrified sound, not unlike an animal with its leg caught in a trap, waiting for the end to come upon it. I'd heard humans let loose the same cry when I ended them, and I disliked hearing it now. I didn't empathize with mortals—I'd killed far too many of them for that—but, like the hunter who must kill to eat, I'd killed with purpose, and hadn't delighted in tormenting my prey.
"Listen to me," I ordered, fighting to fold the fingers of my numb, unresponsive hand into my palm. Saule kept sniffling. "Since you are so fond of using her against me, let me tell you about my host so you can put your own issues into perspective. Sara was younger than you are, not yet twenty-five, but she knew far more of life's cruelties than you. When faced with an impossible situation, she endeavored to overcome all obstacles and prevailed. She watched her sister die, bargained with a Sin to kill those who'd wronged her, taught herself magic under the tutelage of a black mage, destroyed the Sin of Envy by shoving her fist through his chest—."
"What, are you serious—?!"
"And, with her dying breath, she summoned the King Below and had him return me to life via the scrap of my soul she'd been harboring for months!" I exhaled through my teeth, shoulders tensing. "She'd lived the entirety of her life as an average human, and yet she proved mortals are capable of extraordinary feats. I don't expect you to do as she did—I don't expect anyone to match her tenacity—but you're a witch, born and bred with magic in your veins and power at your fingertips. Act like it. Stop acting like this is the end of the world."
Her sobbing subsided as I followed the progression of the turbid smoke toward the stars. The plumes had thinned to tapers, but I doubted the car would start again. I knew little of the engineering involved in new vehicles such as this one, but rudimentary knowledge of old models told me the electrical signs meant to trigger the pumps of the coolant system weren't functioning. They were most likely melted by the mage's spell.
Saule wiped her nose on the collar of Sara's torn and soot-covered sweater.
"You...loved her, didn't you?" she asked in a small, meek voice.
"It doesn't matter," I returned, too exhausted to argue. I'd gotten enough sleep prior to the mage invasion, but I was tired on a deeper level, weary in my bones, burned out like the blasted engine. "All that matters is setting your mind upon the problem at hand and solving it. If you wish to save your Mistress, you should concentrate on acting your age."
"You couldn't possibly know my age."
Sneering, I rubbed my temple and felt the grit and grime slip under my fingertips. "Not that it's the point of my statement, but I've lived since creation. I'm good at guessing." Sara had thought the Baba Yaga priestess was younger than her, but I knew witches—especially blood witches—were adept at keeping themselves youthful. Saule was in her thirties. "Though, I'm certain it's difficult for others to believe your age, given that you act like a spoilt child."
The witch took a breath to reply, but stopped before the words could form, subsiding into an indignant silence.
Satisfied that her fit had passed, I told Saule, "Don't turn on the light," and exited the car again. I returned my attention to the overheated engine block and, leaning over the cooling mess, wondered if I could improvise a fix that would get me to the next town or rest area. I would not be stuck out in this wasteland.
From across the salted creek bed came the crack and rustle of disturbed brush. My gaze alighted in that direction and searched the dark, wondering if what I'd heard was a bird or perhaps a coyote. The sound was echoed somewhere behind me—then from a thicker patch of cacti and sage bushes on the road's other side.
Inside the car, Saule's mutt had risen in the backseat, his black ears perked as I listened to his baritone growl pour through the open door.
It wasn't coyotes. A chill stole through me and settled in the pit of my gut. This was an entirely different brand of predator.
First mages, now this?
The vampires slunk from the foliage when they realized I was aware of their presence. They rose from slouched hiding spots and accumulated from the shadows, all pale-skinned and wide-eyed, their clothes and skin torn from traversing the rigorous terrain. One of their number had no shoes, and his feet were reduced to torn ribbons of flesh and bone. The smell of waste and perspiration clung to their filthy bodies, though none seemed to notice nor care as they continued to circle, the starlight bright in their glassy eyes.
The Call has driven them mad, I thought as I watched, my right arm still weak from the shock thrown into it by the augur mage. It's driven them to wandering the desert, hunting anything that moves.
"Witch," I said, keeping my voice level—though the vampires still reacted to it, stirring like water in a still pond when a stone is cast into it. "Witch."
Saule came stumbling to my side, as did her feathered dog. The leeches were warier of the priestess and Bram, as their hunting circle slowed and their crazed eyes landed upon the witch. She had that rotten book open and braced on one arm, her fingers frantic as they rifled through the pages.
"Okay—okay! I can—," she squeaked, breathless with panic and from weeping. "I can find something—!"
They were coming nearer, stalking us with ease. One of the bolder creatures—perhaps the ring-leader of this mad band—hopped onto the car's roof to loom over us, his t-shirt reduced to tatters and his jeans torn at the knees. Another, this one a woman with jagged nails and ripped nylons, was close enough to Saule to earn a savage bark from the dog.
"Sooner would be better than later, witch!"
There were too many. Managing to throw a few punches at an injured witch and a surprised mage to escape the La Voisin compound had been sheer luck with a dash of logic—but I wouldn't find any luck or logic in squaring off against six ravenous vampires. They'd tear the witch and me to pieces.
Unable to find answers in the flakey pages, Saule slammed the book shut, gasped, and threw an arm toward the leader. "Shsok ick ray shuxku—!"
The woman vampire who'd been eyeing the priestess lunged and was intercepted by Bram. She screeched when he sunk his teeth into her arm, shaking his head, and she maneuvered herself to break the creature's neck. I thought it'd be over in an instant, the dog thrown to the dirt—but the vampire's hands slid ineffectually over his strange feathers and bolstered his angry growls.
A younger leech with pockmarked cheeks and mesquite leaves in his hair thought I was the easier target and tried to grab me from behind. I twisted, using my superior height and the element of surprise to overcome his innate speed. Hooking my foot behind his, I threw the creature toward the earth. My hands cradled his jaw and used the split-second of momentum created in his fall to snap his neck.
The sound jolted through the fanged creatures.
I didn't hear the remainder of Saule's spell, but the vampire on the car was suddenly reduced to a freefall of liquid slush, hitting the roof with a hard, wet thwap. The witch breathed heavily, stunned. A drop of crimson dripped from her nostril.
With one vampire still struggling to get loose from the dog, the witch and I were faced with three more, and despite their jaded languor and clouded minds, their predatory instincts had them circling with caution. I wouldn't be able to surprise the next to attack, and Saule couldn't manage to string two words together after unleashing such a spell.
King's breath, I've never seen a witch melt a person before.
The vampires were preparing themselves to strike. Their muscles tightened in preparation and their obtrusive teeth were bared in threat, saliva dripping in thick ropes on their chins and chapped lips.
I found it ironic I was about to die at the hands of my brother's wretched creations.
Light suddenly flared across the dirt road, blinding us and the hungry leeches with its intensity. I had enough strength in my weakened arm to shield my eyes as I furiously blinked, clearing the lurid spots. My sharp ears heard metal latches coming together—then the whistle and thump of a bolt fired by a crossbow finding its mark.
The vampire behind me hit the earth with a quiet screech.
Again the crossbow was fired by the newcomer silhouetted in the glare of a Jeep's headlights. The leech under Bram's downy paws crumpled, a black bolt protruding from her blood-flecked brow. The final vampire tried to dash into the desert and the shooter was able to fire two more bolts from the weapon they hefted. One bolt went wide, flying off into the night, but the second hit the creature in the back, throwing him face-first into the dry creek bed.
A sudden stillness came over the road, interrupted only by the rumble of the Jeep's motor and Bram's incessant growling. The vampires were dead.
"Oh, thank God," Saule exclaimed as she almost dropped her book with relief. "You saved our asses!"
I wasn't as easily convinced as the witch. I didn't ease from my combative stance as our supposed rescuer slung the crossbow onto their shoulder and approached, their boots crunching on the loose sand and dirt clods.
"Man, I definitely got here just in time."
The woman—for it was a woman, her voice high and tinged with the syrupy drawl of a Southern accent—turned to look at the vampire puddle dripping over the car, and the light illuminated her profile. She was tall, her limbs and torso thin and long, as if she'd been stretched by a pair of rough hands. Her red hair glowed like fire in the headlights, and her sunburnt nose was wrinkled against the putrefied stench of melted flesh.
My eyes were on the knife at her hip, and the quiver of bolts belted to her thigh.
"So, uh—," Saule said as a thread of worry worked its way back into her tone. She'd seen the knife, too. This woman may not be our rescuer at all. She could simply be the next obstacle to overcome. "Can I ask who you are?"
The woman grinned and cocked her hip, gloved hand propped above the knife while the arm of the crossbow remained hooked upon her shoulder. "My name's Connie," she announced, as if we were supposed to recognize the name. I certainly didn't. "Connie Rumar: vampire hunter."