Redlaw - 01 (35 page)

“You’re up. This thing looks pretty sturdy. It’s going to take some oomph to bust it open.”

“Leave it to me.”

“You’ll need to be quiet, too.”

“Brute force
and
stealth. You don’t ask for much, do you?”

Illyria put her shoulder to the door, applied some pressure—and the latch gave and the door sprang open.

“Easy,” she said.

“Too damn easy,” said Redlaw.

The door swung inward. There was darkness beyond. Redlaw’s goggles revealed an inner wall, and steps, curving up out of sight.

Illyria made to enter. Redlaw stayed her with a hand.

“This has all the hallmarks of a trap,” he said.

“What’s in there? Just a vampire. One that’s been cooped up for months on end. I can’t imagine he’ll be much of a threat.”

“He’s been dosed to the gills with vasopressin.”

“Still, only one of him and two of us.”

“I really don’t like this.” Redlaw was remembering the Isle of Dogs, another trap. Someone had set him up there, he was sure. Khalid had denied involvement. But if not him, then who? “I vote we bail.”

“When we’ve come this far?”

His shoulder was throbbing. Nothing felt right here. “Just not liking this gift horse very much at all.”

“Oh, stop being such a nervous Nelly.” Illyria strode decisively through the doorway and up the stairs.

Redlaw hesitated, although he knew he had no choice. He couldn’t let her go in there alone.

“Stupid, impulsive...” he muttered under his breath.

“Heard that!” her words drifted down the stairs.

Redlaw crossed the threshold. Leading with his Cindermaker, he took the steps two at a time, but slowly. At the top, he looked around. He and Illyria were on a kind of ring-shaped viewing gallery. He noted the four machine guns perched like hungry vultures on the central parapet, angled downward and inward. He tried not to gag on the pervasive stench of vampire faeces.

“Well, he
was
here,” Illyria observed.

Joining her at the parapet, Redlaw peered over.

The pit below was empty. Pats of black dung spattered the floor. A pair of heavy chains lay amongst them. One end of each chain was bolted to the floor, the other terminated in a manacle.

“Lambourne must have moved him,” Redlaw said. “Or more likely got rid of him. Using these guns, no doubt. They’re loaded with Fraxinus. See the black tips to the bullets in the belts?”

“Could he have known we were coming?”

“Not unless Slocock tipped him off, and he didn’t. We’ve been with him the whole time since we told him we were taking him up on his offer.”

“Then it’s just coincidence. Rotten timing. Lambourne disposes of the last remaining piece of evidence shortly before we learn about it. Probably this very day.”

“Which makes sense. Now Solarville’s got the green light, he’s tying up loose ends, making sure there’s nothing left that’ll connect him to the bloodlust riots.” Redlaw grunted. “Damn frustrating.”

“I’m sorry,” said Illyria. “I know you had your hopes pinned on this.”

“Not as sorry as I am. I’ve a good mind to go down to that house and confront Lambourne anyway. I might not be able to bring him to justice but I can certainly give him a hiding he’ll never forget.”

“And have him bring charges of assault and trespass against you? As if you’re not in deep enough trouble already.”

“Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”

“Maybe, but I think even you would draw the line at duffing someone up out of sheer spite.”

“In that case, you don’t know me very well at all.”

Redlaw holstered his gun and tramped glumly down the stairs. It was a relief to get back outside into the clean, cool, fresh-smelling night air. He inhaled lungfuls of it, glaring down at the mansion, which dazzled in the goggles like some emerald-encrusted treasure chest.

Something flitted at the periphery of his vision, to the right, and he spun. A pallid shape filled the entire scope of the goggles, massive, looming with horrifying swiftness. Redlaw felt himself being launched off his feet. He was in the air, hurtling.
Go limp!
He tried, but landed hard, rolling and rolling, fetching up face down in thick, night-damp grass. He thrust himself up onto all fours. He knew he hurt. He knew, too, that adrenaline was masking the worst of the pain, telling him he was well enough to do whatever was necessary, fight or flight. He tottered to his feet, reaching for his Cindermaker.

The shape came at him again, this time from the left. Fast. So fast.

The impact was like a thunderclap to the side of the head. Redlaw slammed to the ground. The goggles’ green world stuttered, sparked, gave a shiver of static, then went black. Mechanism broken. Useless now. Redlaw ripped them off his head, scrambled to his knees, then up into a defensive crouch. As his eyes adapted to the darkness he squinted owlishly around for the shape, the thing, that was attacking him. All he could see were the dim silhouettes of trees, the bulk of the observatory.

Illyria. Where was Illyria?

“Illyria!”

The creature struck him once more, now from behind. He thought it must weigh at least four hundred pounds, and yet he hadn’t heard it coming. He was propelled forwards like a ball whacked by a cricket bat, and hit the ground, furrowing headlong through the grass. He knew then how a small child must feel when being tossed about by an adult. This was no horseplay, though. This was the cold-hearted sadism of a cat toying with a mouse, doing all it could to make its victim feel tiny and terrified and helpless.

He was not helpless. At last he managed to draw his gun and cock it. He staggered upright, glimpsing the creature scooting off into the woods, vanishing among the trees like some immense, grotesque phantom. So that was the tactic, was it? Hit and run. Out from cover, then back in, in the space of a few seconds.

Illyria burst from the observatory. “You yelled?”

“There’s something...” Redlaw panted. “The Sunless. The one Lambourne’s been holding prisoner, experimenting on...”

“He didn’t dust it?”

“The trees. Watch out!”

The vampire shot out from the woods again, rocketing across the grass. In three, four vast loping strides, feet barely seeming to touch the ground, he reached Illyria. His massive hands clamped around her neck. He hoisted her bodily into the air, Illyria writhing, her legs bucking.

This was Redlaw’s first good look at the creature, and what he saw was loathsome even by Sunless standards. It wasn’t just the unnatural hugeness, it was the over-muscled distension of the limbs, the face with its bear-like jutting jaw and huge slewed eyes, the lumpy, hairless scalp, the squat, thick legs. It was also the fact that this monstrosity had managed to catch Illyria off-guard and snatch her up so easily. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. Redlaw’s understanding was that no vampire could or should be able to overwhelm a shtriga.

Illyria resisted, twisting the vampire’s wrists outward, trying to break them. Her attacker merely laughed and swung her from side to side like a pendulum, seemingly intent on detaching head from body by shaking. Redlaw lined up a shot with his Cindermaker. The vampire spotted him and flung Illyria at him just as he squeezed the trigger. Redlaw managed to jerk his hand aside in the nick of time, and their bodies collided, her full weight crashing into him. They fell together to the grass with brutal, bruising force.

Illyria was on her feet in an instant, tense, poised to renew the offensive. Redlaw remained sprawled on his back, seeing stars.

“You!” Illyria snarled at the vampire. “You can’t beat me. I am shtriga. Your born superior. Your natural dominator. Your queen.”

The vampire’s retort was a mocking howl of laughter. “I am... Vlad,” he said in a voice like rusty cogs grating together. “Vlad... no fear... shtriga. Shtriga is... shit to Vlad. Vlad is pounding shtriga bitch... into dirt. Then... Vlad is... let free.”

“I order you to bow down,” Illyria said. “Bow down and obey me, or be crushed.”

“Vlad obey only... blood-giver man... Nathaniel. Nathaniel tell Vlad... do this thing... then no more chains... only freedom.”

Redlaw realised he was no longer holding his Cindermaker. He’d dropped it, somewhere in the grass. He rolled over and began to hunt for it, feeling with his hands. Vlad might be super-sized, like three vampires combined, but no way was he impervious to a Fraxinus round. If it took more than one to do the business, if it took all five left in the clip, so be it.

“I will tear you apart,” Illyria said.

“Vlad says... try.”

She flew at him, hands clawed. Vlad sprang to meet her. They clashed in midair and came down brawling like tomcats. Blows rained in either direction. Vlad hammered Illyria with his fists. Illyria sank her fangs into Vlad’s pectoral muscle and tore out a chunk. Vlad bellowed and slammed her head into the earth, spiking it down with one elbow. Illyria wedged her knees under his belly and propelled him off her.

Redlaw, meanwhile, continued to search on his hands and knees for his gun, in vain. Finally, admitting defeat, he pulled a stake from his vest. He stumbled towards the battling vampires.

Vlad was on top of Illyria again, bearing down on her with all his bulk, pinning her throat with one arm. His face loomed over hers, mouth agape to expose a bristling multiplicity of fangs, all cross-angled and overlapping like shark teeth.

“Vlad make... big smile. Bite off... pretty shtriga... face.”

Illyria bared her own fangs, hissing defiance.

“Bite off... whole head... even,” said Vlad, opening his maw wider still.

That was when Redlaw threw himself onto Vlad’s back and plunged the stake in with all his might, next to the knotty ridge of spine.

With a roar Vlad reared, shrugging Redlaw off. He grabbed behind him for the stake. His fingertips couldn’t quite reach the hilt.

He reeled round to face Redlaw, who was already drawing a second stake.

“Foolish... little man. Not nearly... deep enough. Hurt Vlad... but not kill.”

“Then let’s try again,” Redlaw said, launching himself forwards.

Vlad parried the attack easily. He wrenched the stake out of Redlaw’s grasp, and enveloped him in a rib-crunching bear-hug.

“Vlad now... use this... on you,” he said, raising the stake, point downward. “Through eye... into brain. How about that? Human... impaled by... vampire.”

Illyria jumped on Vlad from behind. Vlad plucked her off one-handed and tossed her aside as though she were nothing more than a bothersome insect.

“Vlad is... best,” he crowed.

Redlaw wormed his hand between his chest and Vlad’s.

“Vlad is... biggest.”

Redlaw’s fingers closed around an
aqua sancta
grenade.

“Vlad is... strongest.”

Redlaw unclipped the grenade from his vest and thumbed out the pin.

“Vlad is...”

“Too damn talkative for his own good,” said Redlaw, stuffing the grenade into Vlad’s mouth.

It detonated.

Vlad shrieked.

He let go of Redlaw and recoiled, pawing at his face. Skin bubbled and sizzled. Thick grey foam vomited out over his lips, a frothing soup of consecrated water and melted tongue-flesh. Fangs came with it, unmoored from their gum beds. The whole of Vlad’s lower jaw sagged as the tendons holding it in place deliquesced and snapped. Meat and bone within his head slitheringly parted company.

It was enough to incapacitate Vlad for several moments, to stagger him.

Not to stop him, though.

Vlad charged at Redlaw again. Redlaw threw himself to the side, managing to plant a stake in Vlad’s thigh even as he dived out of his path. The vampire tugged the stake out with a throaty bellow of pain and rage. He hurled it at Redlaw, missing by a hair.

The flesh around the wound in Vlad’s leg immediately started to blacken and atrophy. The flesh around the stake protruding from his back was doing the same. But not as rapidly as it would with an ordinary vampire. Redlaw wondered if Vlad would even succumb to ash wood poisoning at all, given his ramped-up physiology. Probably he could survive anything short of a heart-penetrating thrust. But none of the stakes Redlaw had on him would reach that deep, not into such a broad, dense body. Only a bullet could.

He was just thinking this when a dull glint in the grass caught his eye. His Cindermaker. He stooped for it, and at that very moment Vlad lunged and seized him by his injured arm, hauling him away from the gun. The pain was nauseating, crippling.

Vlad’s mouth was a loosely hanging, blistered mess that was no longer capable of forming words. The murderous glare in his eyes, however, said plenty. With his other hand he grasped Redlaw’s torso. He began to pull each way, slowly, deliberately. He was going to wrench Redlaw’s arm out of its socket, like a butcher pulling the leg off a chicken.

Then Illyria barrelled into him at full pelt, with a cry of “
No!
” Redlaw was jettisoned from Vlad’s clutches. Lying on his side he watched, dimly as though through a veil, the two vampires start to brawl again. They leapt, sprang, circled, feinted, struck, rebounded, slashed, grabbed, all at superhuman speed, almost too fast to follow.