A giant, hairy, claw-tipped appendage speared into the passageway, followed by a second that seemed to probe the air. Omara gave a revolted cry.
They turned right and bolted, grateful to give in to the need to survive. Darak pushed the queen and Iskander ahead, putting himself closest to the enemy. The snap, crackle, rustle sound was growing closer. It was only as they rounded a curve that he saw the thing out of the corner of his eye. A fat, globular body swung amidst eight scuttling legs, a cluster of eyes glistening wetly in the center of its head.
And he remembered the millions of webs they’d passed earlier. The snap-crackle-breakfast-cereal-maggoty sound was the patter of tiny feet. Spiders were swarming in rivulets down the tunnel walls and across the tunnel floors. They had no option but to run across the tide. Darak tried not to feel the slippery crunch of it, and then the tickle of something crawling under his pant legs.
Vampires ran supernaturally fast, but the big spider was just as agile, squeezing through a narrow neck in the tunnel by flattening itself and folding sideways through what space there was.
Crap! They reached the passage they wanted, but it was webbed completely over. Iskander, who had been ready to launch himself down the passage, recoiled with a backward leap, nearly crashing into Darak.
Another exit up ahead was rimmed in webs, as if the spinners had just gotten started on that one. Darak thought he could see the white mesh growing in the few seconds he looked at it.
“This way!” They wheeled and bolted through it.
“I know where we are!” Iskander cried. “There’s a street exit about a block away!”
Blessed Persephone. This passageway was wide and new, recently used for city maintenance because there were pieces of pipe and other construction materials stacked against one wall. Frost furred the odd piece of metal, giving the debris the look of an exotic beast.
Darak had not gone fifty feet when he realized that the rustling sound wasn’t behind them anymore.
It was up ahead, between them and the way out. His stomach dropped like a rock.
Iskander gripped his gun as if it were a talisman. “We can’t go back. They’ll have our retreat webbed off.”
Without answering, Darak stopped and picked up a length of thin pipe, testing its weight and balance. He handed his flashlight to Omara. “Then we go forward.” He took the lead, shifting the pipe to his left hand, the .357 in his right.
I hate bugs. I really hate bugs. Spiders zigzagged across the ground, crawling over one another in their crazed haste to get—wherever. Darak couldn’t see a pattern in the movement, as if the creatures were driven by a panic of their own.
They grew thicker with each foot of ground. Iskander raised his flashlight beam a fraction, catching the dull gleam of a ladder to the street. For an instant, Darak’s hopes lifted.
Then the beam went up another notch. The huge spider was just in front of the ladder, splayed on the ceiling. Now Darak could see its full size—the body was as big as the wheel of a monster truck. The little spiders were weaving a thick web over the exit to the street.
His whole body itched and prickled.
Would a bullet kill it? Only one way to find out.
He shot the spider. It fell with a heavy plop, flipping itself upright with surreal speed. The bullet had gashed its chitinous body, a grayish green ooze dribbling out. Its pincers worked manically, venom gleaming at the tips.
A very different kind of venom from a vampire’s. One bite would surely kill a man.
Omara shot, aiming for the cluster of eyes. It squealed like a saw shredding violin strings. The spider rose on its hind end, front legs thrust out. Darak rushed forward, ramming the pipe into its belly. The spider fell forward, pincers slashing. With a wild leap, Darak flung himself into a somersault, barely escaping the cage of its legs. The spider jerked, struggling against the metal lodged in its flesh.
Darak aimed his Magnum and began firing with grim determination. Iskander and the queen followed suit.
Making another bone-wrenching scream, the creature rushed them. Darak dropped the gun and fell into a crouch right in the spider’s path.
“Darak!” Omara shrieked.
As the thing swarmed over him, legs churning to grab and hold, he flung his arms around the pipe and thrust with a rasping scrunch. Green matter fountained from the wound.
The screech pounded against the stone walls.
The small spiders fled in a stampede of rustling feet.
Darak heaved on the pipe, shoving the weight of the spider away as he leaped back. It collapsed to the ground, bouncing once before it lay in a stinking heap. Green continued to bubble from the fat belly.
They stood for a moment, saying nothing. Darak stared at it, pissed that it dared to exist.
“Where did that thing come from?” he growled.
Omara answered. “Sorcery. Belenos surely made it.”
“Do you think there’s more?”
The queen shrugged, looking pale beneath her cinnamon skin.
Iskander cleared his throat. “Just in case, let’s get out of here. Now.”
Pulling a knife from his boot, Darak circled around the body, and climbed the stairs. The spiders’ web sealed the exit completely. He hacked through the web, peeling it back with a sound like masking tape coming off the roll. He pushed open the manhole cover with a clang and climbed out. He took a lungful of clean, chill air, glad to be free. A moment later, he saw Omara’s upturned face peering out of the manhole. He reached down to pull her out.
Iskander followed, already on his phone. He flipped it shut. “Nia’s coming with the boys. There was a scuffle when a group of Hunters figured out the queen wasn’t in the car, but she took care of it.”
“Good news.”
The queen’s face was tight. “Even so, I underestimated Belenos. His forces are better organized than I assumed.”
Darak gave her a long look. That was the problem with royals. They always figured they were smarter than the next guy. But Omara had guts, so he gave her the benefit of his opinion. “Look, Your Majesty. If he just kills you, there’s a good chance someone will step up and continue your work. He wants to obliterate your base in Fairview. He wants everything you stand for gone.”
She turned angry eyes on him. “Then we need to finish this tonight.”
“No shit.”
Chapter 30
Lore had less than a minute to save his people.
He charged the enemy, ducking, weaving, leaping the fireballs in a deadly dance. Their ammunition wasn’t infinite, and he was determined to make them waste as much as he could. Every fouled shot was one less chance a hound would die.
Twenty seconds spent.
The scene was coming at him in a blur of detaiclass="underline" the sharp-edged rubble of the barricade, the startled faces of Belenos’s vampires as they wheeled around to see the red-eyed hound hurtling at them. Lore knew the ones he wanted. If he took out the leaders, the rest would scatter.
Thirty seconds.
He would have to brave the snipers. He was gambling they only had a few bullets filled with quicksilver. After all, just about every hellhound alive was somewhere in Fairview. Such bullets were a custom-made item.
Thirty-five seconds.
His pack had turned and were following him, but they were far behind. He was moving faster than the sorcerers could take aim. Faster than he could think. Lore let go and let his instincts run.
Forty-five. Rifles cracked, the sound blaring against the stone, but he was too fast for them, too.
Men swore.
That’s right. Do it.
Switching the rifles to automatic sacrificed accuracy for speed. It wasted lots of ammo.