Touch the Dark (24 page)

Pritkin might be a hostile son of a bitch, but he was a damn good guy to have in a fight. He was on the ground, but his amazing hovering knives were back. In fact, it looked like his whole arsenal was on the move. As I watched, he blew apart a vamp with a shotgun blast while five knives went hurtling into another, one almost severing his head. The vamp must have been a master, because he didn't go down, but the animated knives followed him about, sticking in and pulling out like a swarm of especially lethal bees. He swatted at them as blood started to pour out of a couple dozen deep cuts, but they kept coming back. He roared in rage but preferred getting sliced to ribbons to running. But a couple of other vamps, who were being pursued by grenades, chose not to follow his example. I decided if that's what Pritkin fought like when half dead, I really didn't want to see him at full strength.

Tomas was doing okay, too, tying up two vamps in a knife fight that was so fast and furious I couldn't see any of it, except for an occasional blade flashing in the parking lot lights. Several others lay around him with the now familiar gaping holes in their chests. Louis-César, meanwhile, had decided to take the attack on the offensive all by himself. While Pritkin and Tomas kept the attackers busy, he charged the cluster of vamps around me. The beach bum must not have heard of the Frenchman's reputation, because he leapt for him and lasted all of about a second. That wicked-looking rapier was back in action, and skewering him didn't cause Louis-César even to break his stride. He threw a knife at the second dark mage, but it bounced off him like he was wearing body armor. But whatever the three witches were doing was having more of an effect. The mage was on the ground, scrambling for purchase as ineffectively as a beetle turned upside down, as they began closing in, chanting something in unison.

I was initially pleased to see the Frenchman, since it took only one look at him for the remaining vamps around me to take off, but I quickly changed my mind. I blinked, and Louis-César's bloody blade was somehow under my chin. The look in his eyes made it very clear that he had no idea who I was. “Your Circle made a mistake challenging us,” he told me calmly, as if we were chatting at a party. “Fortunately,
monsieur
, I do not need you alive to send a declaration of war. It should be sufficient that I have your body left somewhere your people frequent.”

“Louis-César, no!” I couldn't speak for fear of jamming his rapier farther into my throat, but the voice coming from behind him was mine anyway, as was the hand clutching his sword arm. It looked like Billy Joe had decided to earn his keep.

“
Mademoiselle
, please go back to Tomas. This will not be pleasant.”

“Tomas is kinda busy right now,” Billy replied, “and anyway, I'm not Cassie. She's in there.” He pointed at me. “And I don't know what'll happen if you kill the body while she's in it. Maybe she'll come back here, but maybe not.”

Louis-César's voice softened slightly. “You are delusional,
mademoiselle
. You may have a concussion and must not exert yourself. Give me a moment and I will escort you from here myself.”

I swallowed. I knew that with his strength he could run the rapier through me even with Billy Joe hanging off his arm. I could feel the mage panic, too, and his fear fuelled the battle of wills we were having. The tide of what felt like chilly water was up to my knees.

“Billy! How do I get out of here?” The movement of my mouth pushed the edge of the rapier into the mage's skin, and I could feel a warm stream of blood begin to trickle down his neck. Someone screamed in my head, but I ignored it.

“I don't know.” Billy Joe was gripping Louis-César's arm with both hands and practically hanging off it. Sweat was pouring down my face, but it didn't look like he was making any difference at all. “I'm stuck in here until you get back. Your body knows it'll die without a spirit, so it's got a death grip on me. There's no way for me to help you.”

“I can't believe you talked me into this!”

“How the hell do you think I feel? I don't want to end up inside a woman!” He paused. “Well, at least not that way.”

Louis-César was losing patience. In a swift movement that didn't cause the rapier to waver even slightly, he pulled Billy Joe against him. “You may wish to close your eyes
mademoiselle
. I do not wish to cause you further distress.”

“I think it's safe to say that killin' her counts as distressing,” Billy Joe choked out, but Louis-César wasn't paying him any attention. He'd written me off as a hysterical female, and that was that. If I ever got out of this mess alive, I'd show him hysterical.

I only had one idea, and it was a long shot. “Don't kill me! I know about Françoise!” It was all I could think of, the only fact about Louis-César that I knew that the mage probably didn't, but it didn't seem to make much of an impression.

“You will not save yourself with feeble lies, Jonathan. I know your tricks from of old.”

“What about Carcassonne? Huh? What about that damn torture room? I — you — saw her burn! We were talking about it a few hours ago!”

“Enough! You die.” Billy Joe kicked upwards at the last second and hit the blade so that it went through the mage's shoulder instead of his heart, but it hurt like a bitch. I yelled and wrenched back, but the blade was so long that I was still trapped on it like a butterfly on a pin.

I finally got some help when a small vial flew into my hand. Apparently Mr. Mage had decided we had a common cause. It looked like one of the row of small containers Pritkin had strapped to his belt, but this had leapt out of some inner pocket. The cool water was up to my waist, and I didn't know what would happen if it overwhelmed me, but at the moment I was more concerned with Louis-César. I didn't try to resist the impulses that ran through my brain, but thrust the vial at him.

“I will gut you before you can say the incantation,” he promised, but I noticed that he eyed the tiny vial with a certain amount of respect.

“I don't need the incantation at this range. Kill me, and you die, too. So does she.” The words appeared in my brain, but they weren't mine. I said them anyway. They seemed to have an effect, for Louis-César hesitated.

The mage must have been waiting for that reaction, because he took the opportunity to step up the inner fight. I was suddenly up to my neck in icy water. “Billy! He's winning, what do I do?”

“I'm thinking . . . let him?” Billy Joe didn't sound very sure of himself, but he'd done this a lot more than me.

“What?”

If he answered, I didn't hear, because the water closed over my head. But, instead of drowning as I'd half expected, I was abruptly flying again. I landed hard, and the disorientation I'd felt when Tomas and I returned was nothing to what hit me a second later. It was like there were two of me, each going in a different direction, tearing me apart in the process. I screamed and someone tightened their hold around my waist. My blood was pounding in my veins as if it was about to burst out of the top of my head, and the pain was awful. It felt like every migraine I'd ever had all rolled into one. I wanted to pass out, but no such luck. I stayed conscious as the world rocked wildly around me like a carnival ride gone crazy, until I threw up on the asphalt.

“Cassie, Cassie!” Billy Joe appeared before me, his eyes so wide that I could see a strip of white all around the pupil. It took me a second to realize that they were his eyes, and that he was in his usual gambler–cowboy–ladies' man getup instead of my skin. His ruffled shirt was bright red, his hazel eyes as clear and sharp as if he hadn't been dead for a century and a half. At that moment, I really believed I could reach out and touch him and he'd be solid. Then it occurred to me that it was my energy making his eyes shine like that and flushing his cheeks. Bastard. I would have told him off for draining me almost dry in my hour of need, but I was way too sick. It felt like someone had reached inside and turned my stomach inside out. I wanted to throw up again but didn't have the energy.

Louis-César picked me up as if I weighed as much as a rag doll, and I looked around, bewildered. How could he pick me up with only one arm? Didn't he need the other one to hold the rapier on the mage? Only there was no mage and no body. It was just me, a master vampire and a really tanked-up ghost; nothing to worry about.

We rejoined Pritkin and Tomas, me being carried because I was in no shape to walk. I was having trouble figuring out which way was up, since it seemed to be changing on a regular basis. I did notice that Tomas was busy bespelling a rather large group of people, including several police officers, who had come by to see what all the commotion was about. I hadn't known he could trick multiple norms at once. Come to think of it, I hadn't known anyone could. Just another clue that I wasn't dealing with a run-of-the-mill vamp. No, those types were scattered about all over the landscape, interspersed with the dead weres. The hearts and heads were several feet away from the bodies, but at least they all appeared to be there.

Pritkin was stowing away his arsenal, which hovered in front of him in an obedient little line, each weapon waiting its turn. He looked at me with narrowed eyes as he wiped off and tucked away his bloody knives. “You possessed a member of the Black Circle,” he said, as if this was news, “and have powerful witches in your service. Who were they?”

I glanced back to where the women had been, but only the second dark knight was there, lying at an unnatural angle, his bone white face turned up to the first rays of the sun. His eyes were open, but I doubted he saw anything. I realized that they must have killed him, but at the moment it didn't matter much to me.

“I don't know.” My voice came out all croaky, which considering the amount of abuse my vocal cords had taken lately, shouldn't have been a surprise. But it was.

“You are not human.” It wasn't a question, and Pritkin looked like he expected me to sprout another head at any moment.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a demon,” I told him. I seemed to be having to say that a lot lately. Probably not a good sign.

“Then what are you?”

Billy Joe floated by and gave me a thumbs-up and a cheeky grin. “I'm gonna check out some stuff. See you later.”

I sighed. It was barely sunrise, hardly the best time to get into trouble even in Vegas. So why was I absolutely certain Billy Joe would manage? “I'm your friendly neighborhood clairvoyant,” I told Pritkin wearily. “Cross my palm with silver, meester, and I'll tell you your fortune. Only” — I was interrupted by a huge yawn — “you probably won't like it.” I snuggled closer into the wall of warm cotton behind me and drifted off.

I woke because little fingers of sunshine were getting in my eyes. They were coming from a large window over the queen-sized bed somebody had put me on. I yawned and grimaced. My mouth was all cottony and tasted awful, and my eyes were so gummy I had to pry them apart to see. When I could, I blinked in confusion. It did not look like vamps had furnished the place, unless it was Louis-César's room. It was yellow from the painted stucco walls to the patchwork quilt and shams. Only a few washed-out pastels in the braided rug and a couple of Native American–inspired prints fought with the yellow tide, but it looked like they were losing.

I sat up and quickly decided that hadn't been a good idea. My stomach tried to heave something up, but there wasn't anything there. I felt as weak as if I'd had the flu for a week, and I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. After the room stopped spinning, I staggered to my feet and went exploring. Poking my head out the bedroom door, I learned two things: I was back in my rooms at MAGIC and I had guests. The short hall outside my room ended in the living area where I'd been taken before my side trip to Dante's. Several very familiar heads swiveled towards me and I scowled at them until I spotted the entrance to a blue-tiled sanctuary a few yards away. Someone, and I really hoped it had been Rafe, had peeled off my battered clothes and wrapped me in a terrycloth robe. It was okay except that it was about three sizes too big and tended to trip me up at odd moments. But I made it to the bathroom without falling, and shut the door in Tomas' face.

For the hell of it, I checked the window. No angry little face greeted me this time. Instead of the Marley, the wards had been strengthened to the point that I didn't even have to concentrate to see the glittering silver web that blocked my only way out. It was a little much, considering that an armed human guard was also right outside. You'd think they had something really scary in here, instead of a beat-up clairvoyant with what felt like the mother of all hangovers. I pulled the curtains closed and shrugged. I hadn't really expected to get away with that twice.

No one interrupted even though I took a long bath. It didn't help much. My list of injuries had lengthened and I was exhausted despite having had, at a guess, six hours' sleep. I'd also received a gift. Someone had put the dark mage's bracelet firmly around my wrist. Someone had also repaired it, because a perfect circle of tiny daggers ran under my fingers, like beads on a rosary. Great; exactly what I needed: another piece of tacky jewelry. I tried to get it off, but it wouldn't fit over my hand, and I didn't feel like trying to bite it. The last time had been with the mage's teeth; this time it would be with mine.

I got stiffly out of the bath, feeling about a hundred, and peered in the mirror. I've never been particularly vain, but it was a shock to see myself looking so haggard. My hair stood up in little clumps and had almost come out of the gold slide. I fixed it as well as I could with only my hands to work with, but there was nothing I could do about my dead white complexion or the dark circles that rimmed my eyes like a professional football player's. I guess almost getting killed about a dozen times takes it out of you.