Archer's Lady: Bloodhounds, Book 3 (16 page)

“What are they doing?” she yelled over the din.

He knew what she meant. Ghouls didn’t wait their turn; they
swarmed
, each desperate to do his master’s bidding. “They’re—”

His master’s bidding.

“Fuck.” Archer shot a ghoul between the eyes and whirled to bash another on the head with the butt of his now-empty revolver. “This isn’t a trap.”

“It isn’t?”

“No,” he told her grimly. There were no vampires in sight, no one to give the command to press an advantage or bring them low. “It’s a distraction.”

Cecil didn’t throw her out the front door with half the force he should have, but Grace knew how to commit to a role. She stumbled over nothing and deliberately pitched off the wooden sidewalk. The door slammed shut behind her, and she landed in a pathetic heap a few feet away from a pair of leather boots so polished they gleamed in the scant moonlight.

She followed those boots up to a pair of immaculately tailored beige pants and then higher, past the stylish jacket and into the glittering eyes of a coldly handsome vampire.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”

At least she wouldn’t have to dig too deeply for pain and fear. She let it fill her eyes as she scrambled to her feet and fisted her hands. “Grace Linwood.”
Slow, Grace. Don’t overplay it. Let him come to you.

He tilted his head, his gaze roving over her face and neck. “Are you a sacrifice, darling? A wee lamb whose blood will protect those within from the vampires’ wrath?”

She lifted her chin as if in stubborn pride, giving him ample chance to see the marks left by Archer’s teeth. “It worked so well with the bloodhound, I imagine they couldn’t resist.”

“You’re in one piece.” The vampire smiled, his sharp white fangs glinting in the torchlight. “From what I’ve heard of those savage monsters, perhaps you should count yourself lucky.”

Play the part, Gracie.
She’d played with dangerous men before. Brutal men as likely to knife her as smile. This was no different. Another sort of monster, that was all.

Shivering, she let her gaze drop. First to his chin, then to his chest as she curled her arms around her body as if chilled. “I’m in one piece because he hasn’t yet grown bored of me. I would not consider that luck.”

He touched her chin, his fingers gentle and cold. “So what do we do with you? Burn you with the others, or keep you for now so he can watch?”

It took all of her self-control not to recoil. She allowed herself only a flinch before she tried to channel that scared, selfish part of herself. The one Archer had discovered in the stables on the first morning with a saddlebag full of silver and trinkets.

Yes, she could put herself in the shoes of someone scared enough to betray this town. Now she had to walk in them.

Wetting her lips, she forced her gaze up again. “I have something you want.”

“You have the bloodhound’s regard, by your own admission. That makes you priceless, darling.”

Which would keep her alive, but wouldn’t provide much distraction from the entertainment to be had by burning the town alive. “I also have a key to the warded house.”

“Somehow, I cannot help but be charmed by your shameless pandering.” The vampire laughed and held out his hand. “Call me William.”

She started to reach for his hand but froze, playing up the bluster-covering-terror for all she was worth. She had to show him just enough spine to be amusing, but not so much that it offered any true challenge. “On one condition.”

A brief hint of irritation flashed over his features. “What’s that?”

Such a fine line. She hunched her shoulders a little more, concentrating on the physical gestures of submission. “I’d rather prefer
not
being set on fire.”

The crease of his brow smoothed a bit. “You have my word.”

She clasped his hand, and it was fitting that her fingers shook as that cold grip closed around her. If he’d seemed more interested in her body she might have played the eager blood-whore, but he didn’t seem lustful enough. A man—or vampire—would have to be in the grip of a fierce sort of craving to fool himself into believing she could be eager.

So she stayed cool as she held his gaze, and hoped he couldn’t hear the clock ticking away in her mind, counting every second as a victory. “Thank you, William.”

“Now.” His hand tightened around hers. “Tell me what you know about the warded house.”

Chapter Eleven

They weren’t fast, but there were dozens of them, maybe even a hundred. Archer fought ghoul after ghoul, his mind stuck in a loop as endless and eternal as the fight.

If the vampires had lured him here, they had to be in Crystal Springs. And if they wanted him out of the way, their plan was clear.

Retribution. They wanted to pay him back for the carnage he’d visited on their comrades during the new moon, wanted him to walk back into town and find nothing but blood and death.

He shuddered, the bloodhound transformation prickling at his spine, fighting to break free. Instead, he called out to Diana. “Can you get away?”

“No.” One word, clipped and terse. “Motherfuckers just keep
coming
.”

They were cut off from the exit, and deep underground. There was no way out except to battle through the ghouls and hope there had to be an end to them.

Archer had run out of rounds for his pistols, and one of the creatures had snatched away his pack. Stopping to search for it might have jeopardized their ability to hold off the unending wave of attackers, so he grabbed a pickaxe from one of the crates and started swinging.

One by one, sometimes two or three at a time, they went down. Blood slicked the ground, and the constant grunts and cries blurred into a never-ending litany of violence and pain.

Diana ducked an outstretched hand and slammed two ghouls together with a sick crushing noise. “Go! I’ll hold them off!”

There were still twenty of the awkward, screeching monsters seething about the room. If they couldn’t outrun them back through the corridors to the surface, they’d be sitting ducks, vulnerable to attack from behind. “You can’t.”

“I have to,” she argued. “Keeping us here is what they want, and I, for one, say
fuck them
.”

Archer ripped away a rope binding a stack of crates, tipped them over in front of the converging ghouls and snatched up the open handtorch. He tossed it to Diana. “You’re faster. I’ll be right behind you, but don’t stop. I mean it.”

She only paused for a moment before nodding. “I’ll get to her.”

Grace.
He’d barely let himself think her name. The rage surged again, threatening his control, clouding his mind. He should have told her. He should have stayed.

He should have done a lot of things.

The vampires hadn’t set the saloon on fire yet. That, at least, had gone according to plan.

Grace sat stiffly in the saddle, all too aware that the man at her back was no man at all. No breath stirred her hair, though the vampire’s face was close enough to her neck to make the ride to Doc’s house an agony of uncertainty.

He could bite her at any moment. Out of disappointment or boredom or just to see how she tasted. She flinched every time he shifted behind her, a reaction utterly beyond her control, but she stopped trying to repress it when the third time made him chuckle.

He enjoyed her fear—and the power it represented. She could use that, as long as she kept her wits.

“You must have been there.” William curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “During the new-moon attack, yes?”

“Yes.” What would make for a better story? Witness to the slaughter, or oblivious victim? She made a gut decision. “He ordered me to stay in the bed, though. I was afraid of what he’d do to me if I disobeyed him.”

“Did you see it at all? What he did to them?”

If she said no, he’d probably take delight in showing her. A horrifying proposition, but as Doc’s house loomed large, she felt every passing second. Time, she needed more
time
, no matter the cost. “No. I assume it was barbaric, considering how he looked when—when he…” A hitched breath. A shudder. She measured out all the reactions of horror and let his undoubtedly perverse mind fill in the gruesome details.

“I’ll show you.” William pulled the horse to a stop and slid off before closing his hands around her waist and lifting her with preternatural ease. “He collapsed the tunnel we worked so hard to build, you know. That’s why I need you.”

She eased the key from her bodice and gripped it in one hand. There was very little of value left in the house, and almost nothing relating to Doc’s research. Archer hadn’t had time to clear out all the equipment, though, and the shelves of beakers and bottles might draw their attention, earning her a reprieve.

Time. The more reluctant she was, the more eager he’d be to force her to savor every detail of the slaughter. “Why do you want me to see it? I already know he’s a monster.”

“Does blood make you squeamish, love?” he asked in an eerie, singsong voice.

“Yes. In large quantities, at least.” She glanced past him to the other vampires, all of whom seemed to obey him in silence. “Are they coming inside with us?”

“What else would they do?”

Grace looked back to him. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what you want with the doctor’s house. The bloodhound wouldn’t say.”

“Not sure I believe you, Grace. What I wonder is…why would you lie?” William tapped her forehead. “To protect him? You needn’t bother. The ghouls won’t let him out of the caverns alive. And there are many of them, you know. So, so many.”

She didn’t betray so much as a flicker of concern—and it wasn’t hard to suppress it. Archer had Diana with him. “A woman only ever has one reason to lie to a man.”

Again, that cold smile as he echoed her earlier thought. “I’m not a man.”

“The reason still applies,” she whispered, not looking away from his eyes.
Hurry, Archer.
Every minute she bought made the next more precious. “We know power when we see it. And we’ll pander shamelessly in the face of it.”

William spun her in front of him, facing her toward Doc’s old house. “We’ll see. Walk.”

The house next to the stable was burning.

Archer slid off his horse before the animal skidded to a stop. “Grace!” he bellowed as Diana circled around the side of the flaming structure, her knives at the ready.

Grace didn’t respond.

A vampire did, dropping from the roof to slam onto Archer’s back. He flipped the creature with a growl and shoved his boot down on the pale throat, silencing a vicious hiss. Before he could stomp down, another vampire locked an arm around Archer’s neck and twisted.

A shot sounded somewhere to Archer’s left, and the vampire’s head snapped to the side as his grip loosened. Cecil stood there, hand steady but face pale as a man staring at his own death.

Archer shook free of the corpse hanging on him, even kicked away the vampire on the ground. He vaguely heard a thud and a gurgle as Diana finished him off, but all of his attention was focused on Cecil.

Blood thrummed in his ears as he stopped short and asked the old man the only question that mattered. “Where is she?”

“They rode out toward Doc’s place almost half an hour ago. Grace, the leader and five more vampires.”

The thrum built to a roar, and Archer wrapped his hand in Cecil’s collar. “You let them take her?”

Guilt stood plainly enough in the old man’s eyes, but he snarled right back. “You can trash me for going along with her damn plan later. For the love of God, man, ride after her.”

Archer’s fist flew, slamming into Cecil’s jaw before he even realized he’d moved. Pain—actual, physical
pain
—twisted in Archer’s gut, and he fought the urge to growl a warning to anyone who would listen.

Cecil spit blood onto the ground and used Archer’s distraction to break free of his grip. “We can handle the stragglers.
Go.
”

Think, you fucker. Think.
“What was the con? Doc’s research, his laboratory, but what did she tell them? Do you know?”

Rubbing his jaw, Cecil watched him warily. “Couldn’t hear all of it. Best as I could tell, she was playing a roughly handled woman hungry for a little revenge.”

So Archer would ride out as a possessive hound bent on retrieving what was his. “Diana, make a sweep for stragglers,” he said, already striding back toward his horse.

“What about the Browns?” she protested. “The farmer’s family?”

“Ride out to their place. If they’re there, they may still be alive. Cecil and the others can stay near the saloon, ready to fight. Just in case.”

“One more thing,” Cecil said as Diana hurried down the street. “Jake’s out there somewhere.”

“The kid?”

“Yeah.” Cecil’s voice was sharp enough to cut. “I just hope to hell he’s not playing hero.”

If he had time, Archer would check his bags, see what was missing. Because he knew something would be, and the kid would have it. Instead, he swung up on his horse and gripped the reins. “I’ll bring him back too. Count on it.”