Storms of Lazarus (Shadows of Asphodel, Book 2) (3 page)

Movement in her peripheral vision. The wounded vampire charged and flung Ardis against the wall. She fired the pistol point blank between his ribs, but a bullet did nothing against a heart that had already stopped.

The vampire’s hand closed around her shoulder. He knotted his fingers in her hair.

Fear flooded Ardis’s blood. She pushed against the wall, trying to find some leverage, but the vampire was taller and stronger than her. He pressed against her with a growling sigh and yanked back her head. Baring her neck.

She sucked in air to scream, but the vampire clamped his hand over her mouth.

Ardis bit him first. Her teeth sank into his fingers. He grunted but didn’t let go, and she wondered if he even felt pain.

She couldn’t see Wendel. She could only see the vampire’s dead eyes.

Then the vampire closed his eyes and bent over her neck.

His teeth pierced her skin with blinding pain. The intensity of the agony increased until it shattered into pleasure. It shocked Ardis to realize how sweet it felt. Shivering, she clung to him as the strength melted from her muscles. Pinpricks danced over her skin, and her heartbeat whooshed gently in her ears like the sea.

The vampire’s bite ended, but the sensation lingered.

He released her and let her slump against the wall. She slid down to the floor, her eyesight blurry, and struggled to focus. She heard voices. They sounded underwater. A tall man with fair hair faced the vampire. When the tall man lifted his hands, flames crackled at his fingertips. He hurled fire at the vampire.

Ardis squeezed her eyes shut. The burning hurt to look at.

Distantly, she was aware of the cold concrete beneath her cheek. She ran the palm of her hand flat against the floor. She felt something warm, and looked at her fingers. Red. Blood. Frowning, she touched her neck.

Why did nothing hurt?

“Ardis. Damn it, Ardis, look at me!”

She blinked and turned her head until she found Wendel. He was kneeling over her and shaking her shoulder. He didn’t have to be so rough. The shaking jarred her out of the sweet euphoria of the vampire’s bite.

“Wendel,” Ardis muttered. “Quit that.”

The tall man bent over Ardis, squinting, his eyes as blue as the sky. Frozen breath frosted the scarf over his mouth. He unwound the scarf clumsily, his hands armored in intricate mage’s gauntlets, the steel clicking like insects.

“Konstantin.” Ardis smiled. “What a surprise.”

Konstantin’s eyebrows gathered in a frown. “Help her stand.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Wendel said.

“It’s just the vampire’s venom,” Konstantin said.

“Just?
Just
?”

“She needs to walk it off.”

Wendel spoke through clenched teeth. “If you turn out to be wrong about this, so help me God, I will kill you myself.”

Konstantin blanched and raised his hands.

“The venom has a half-life of only two hours,” he said.

“This isn’t one of your textbooks,” Wendel said icily.

Wendel hooked his hand behind Ardis’s neck and lifted her head. He looked into her eyes. His own were so serious.

“Ardis,” Wendel said, “I need you to hold on. I will try not to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said.

That didn’t seem to reassure Wendel.

Ardis laced her fingers behind Wendel’s neck, and he lifted her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat thumped in her ear. Blood stained his shirt, and she realized her neck was still bleeding.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why?” Wendel said.

Ardis laughed softly. “I’m bleeding on your shirt.”

“Wendel.” Konstantin cleared his throat. “You should put her down.”

Wendel muttered some profanity, then lowered Ardis to her feet. Her legs wobbled. She held onto Wendel so she wouldn’t fall. Konstantin caught her other elbow. The metal of his gauntlets felt hot against her skin.

“Try to walk,” Konstantin said. “Physical activity should help counteract the venom.”

Ardis nodded. The movement made her head spin. She managed a step forward, but her next step turned into a stumble. Wendel caught her before she could fall. He lifted her back into his arms and started walking.

“I have a better plan,” Wendel said.

Konstantin followed alongside. “Which is?”

“We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Ardis winced as the bite on her neck started to throb. Wendel glanced at her face.

“Why is she still bleeding?” he said.

Konstantin raised his finger as he walked. “Vampire venom acts as an anticoagulant. That, and a rather powerful anesthetic.”

“And?” Wendel said. “How do we fix it?”

“I could cauterize the wound.”

Wendel grimaced. “Ardis?”

She squinted at him. Everything still looked blurry, though less of a pleasant blur.

“That sounds smart,” she said.

Konstantin held open a door, and they stepped into the night. Cold rushed over them, and Ardis’s teeth started to chatter. Konstantin held out his hand, flames rippling at his fingertips, his gauntlets glowing yellow with magic.

“Try not to move,” Konstantin said.

Ardis stiffened in Wendel’s arms. Konstantin pressed his fingertips to her neck. Magic seared her skin and burned the vampire’s bite. She gasped at the pain and forced herself to hold still as he stopped the bleeding with fire.

Konstantin lifted his fingers. “Done.”

Shivering, Ardis felt a lot more awake. She gripped Wendel’s shoulder.

“It hurts now,” she said.

“Good,” Konstantin said.

Wendel glared at the archmage.

“I think the venom is starting to wear off.” Ardis blew out her breath. “Damn.”

Ardis lifted her head to look around. Her neck throbbed with sickening pain. Konstantin hovered nearby with obvious worry. Behind him, the windows of the brick building stared at them like the empty eyes of skulls.

Wendel nodded at Konstantin. “Archmage.”

He said it the same way he did every time, his flippant disdain at odds with the begrudging respect in his eyes.

“You’re welcome?” Konstantin said.

“Now is when we say goodbye,” Wendel said.

Without waiting for a reply, Wendel started to walk across the cobblestones. Ardis held on and tried to breathe evenly.

“I was looking for you,” Konstantin said.

Wendel stopped with his back to the archmage. He waited for a moment.

“Why?” he said.

“They said you were dead, but they never found a body.”

Slowly, Wendel turned around. He kept his tone perfectly bland when he spoke.

“You contacted the Order of the Asphodel?” he said.

“I had to,” Konstantin said. “I need you.”

A hint of desperation sharpened Konstantin’s voice. He dragged his fingers through his windblown tangle of blond hair.

“For nostalgia’s sake?” Wendel bared his teeth. “You had us arrested, archmage.”

Konstantin bit his lip and averted his gaze. “I’m afraid things went terribly wrong. I’m lucky that I came when I did.”

“Very lucky,” Wendel said sardonically. “We almost escaped without you.”

“How did you find us?” Ardis said.

A little smile curled Konstantin’s mouth.

“Vampires,” he said. “The best bloodhounds to hunt down a necromancer. They crave the taste of a man who can control the dead.”

Wendel stiffened. Ardis flinched at his fingernails digging into her back.

“Put me down,” she said.

Wendel let Ardis slide to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but she managed to hide it. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms.

“What do you want from us?” Ardis said.

Konstantin’s jaw hardened. “You owe a debt to the archmages.”

They did—Ardis couldn’t deny it. Not only had Wendel sabotaged Konstantin’s automatons, but Konstantin had let Ardis run away to Constantinople to save the necromancer. She knew they should repay Konstantin.

And in all fairness, Wendel deserved some sort of punishment.

“Follow me,” Konstantin said, “and I will answer all of your questions on the way.”

Wendel stared at him. No doubt calculating the odds of the situation.

“This is our best option,” Ardis said.

Mostly because they didn’t have another one.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Ardis took a step toward Konstantin, which was a mistake. The world tipped around her like a chessboard losing all its pieces. She stumbled onto one knee and caught herself with her hand splayed on the cobblestones.

Wendel clutched her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be walking.”

“Can I lie down?” Ardis said.

He squinted. “Of course not.”

Ardis staggered to her feet and sucked in a long breath. Stars danced in the corners of her eyes. Her neck ached almost as sharply as the instant the vampire’s fangs had pierced her skin. Wind chilled her sweaty face.

“Wendel,” Konstantin said. “For once, don’t be an idiot. You can’t keep running, carrying Ardis through the snow, praying the assassins don’t realize you’re alive. Come with me and you can have a real shot at survival.”

Dizziness rippled over Ardis, and she blinked fast.

“Very well,” Wendel said. “You win.”

Judging by the ice in his voice, he hated saying every word.

“This way,” Konstantin said.

Wendel helped Ardis stagger across the town square. They reached a sleigh hitched to a matched pair of black draft horses. The great beasts snorted and pawed at the snow, heat from their nostrils fogging the air. Konstantin hopped into the sleigh and held out his hand. Ardis shied away from the steel of his gauntlets. She remembered the fire he had summoned from his fingertips to incinerate the vampire.

“Let me help you,” Wendel said.

With his hands at her waist, Wendel boosted Ardis into the sleigh. She clambered in gracelessly and slumped in the corner. Wendel settled next to her with a thud. He leaned back and stretched out his legs.

Ardis touched her fingers to her forehead. “Where are we going?”

“Not to our deaths, apparently,” Wendel said.

Konstantin shook his head. “Logic escapes you, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t trust you,” Wendel said, with more than a little insolence. “Do I need to explain the concept of revenge to you, archmage?”

Konstantin leaned across the gap between them. His eyes looked frosty.

“You are more useful to me alive,” he said. “Necromancer.”

Wendel looked smug, as if he had known he was invaluable all along.

At Konstantin’s command, the driver urged the horses into a trot. The sleigh lurched into motion and scraped over the snowy road. Blearily, Ardis gazed at the sky. Snow like powdered sugar drifted onto her face.

“Where are we going?” she said again.

“Phillipopolis,” Konstantin said.

That sounded vaguely familiar to Ardis, so she nodded.

Darkness swallowed the village. Only lanterns hanging from the sleigh lit their way. The horses plodded through a forest of pines, their harnesses creaking. The slicing of sleigh runners across snow underscored the silence.

Ardis tilted back her head and watched the boughs of trees pass overhead.

“
Grok
!”

“Oh, damn,” Wendel said.

Wingbeats whooshed between the trees. The raven fanned its tail and banked over the sleigh, then settled on a low-hanging branch. Wendel pantomimed throwing something at the bird to scare it away. The raven chattered in a bratty way, glided down to the sleigh, and landed behind the oblivious driver’s back.

Konstantin stiffened. “Get rid of your minion.”

“My what?” Wendel retorted.

“That crow.”

“The
raven
isn’t undead, archmage. I can’t control him.”

Konstantin arched his eyebrows. “Then why—?”

“He’s clever, that’s why.” Wendel smiled. “In his greedy little head, a necromancer is nothing more than a glorified sous chef for scavengers. If he follows me long enough, he might find his dinner. Something nice and dead.”

Konstantin eyed the raven with considerable disgust and a hint of fascination.

“Don’t tell me you have undead nearby,” Konstantin said.

“All right,” Wendel said flippantly, “I won’t.”

Konstantin spoke in a dangerous murmur. “I am absolutely serious.”

The raven clambered nearer to Wendel, its claws clicking on the lacquered wood of the sleigh, and Wendel gazed at it rather fondly. Ardis suspected the necromancer liked the bird only because the archmage didn’t.

She smiled. The lingering venom in her blood weighed down her eyelids. They had barely slept a night since Constantinople. A hard bench in a sleigh was a luxury after huddling together in a cave in the wilderness.

Ardis rested her head against Wendel’s shoulder.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were alone. They were safe. And she let this delusion lull her to sleep.

~

San Francisco never slept through the night. Red lanterns hung like garlands of glowing fruit over the streets of Chinatown. Ardis ran over the cobblestones, dodging the crowds, ducking into alleys wherever she could. She loved the feeling of cutting her own way through the city, of finding things she had never seen.

Outside an herbalist’s shop, a man sat on the sidewalk and played a haunting melody on a two-stringed
erhu
from China. The song reminded Ardis of romantic maidens in flowing robes. She lingered until the man pointed with his bow at the box of coins by his feet. Then she shook her head and kept running.

Ardis passed a restaurant, which smelled of sizzling and simmering, and an opium den, which smelled of burnt poppies. The odd sweet aroma always provoked a shiver down her spine, though she had never been tempted.

Ardis ducked her head and ran faster. She would be late. Again.

Her mother’s brothel looked almost respectable from the outside, with bright red paint and a bit of gilding around the doorways. Inside, the smoke of incense perfumed the air and twisted serpentine between lamplight. A courtesan lounged on a divan, chatting with a man who wrung his hat in his hands. A new customer, clearly, one who hadn’t been seduced yet. Ardis raised her eyebrows, and the courtesan smiled.