The sound of gunfire became more sporadic and eventually died down to the occasional pop. Allyson seized Chad’s arm and tried to tug him back toward the front entrance, leaning close to whisper into his ear. “Come on, goddammit, this is our chance, let’s get out of here.”
Chad was numb. Part of it was the mystery of Alicia. The wall-to-wall gore was another part of it. But a bigger factor was this firsthand experience of Allyson’s total willingness to kill anyone in the way of what she wanted. She’d done it before, of course, starting with the men who’d broken into his house. Then again on the way up here, dispatching the men who’d been her traveling companions. But now he’d watched her mow down at least four more men, acting with deadly precision and concentration, not stopping until she was certain the threat was gone. In a flash, Chad realized no one had ever cared for him as intensely as Allyson did. No one had ever been so willing to step into harm’s way and sacrifice for him.
So he let himself be dragged toward the door. He would follow her anywhere now. They reached the door and would have stepped through it if not for the presence of the older Asian man and his younger male sidekick on the porch. The men regarded them with even, unreadable expressions. Each held an identical silver sword. Chad immediately understood that they had assumed this position to prevent the very thing he and Allyson were attempting.
“Fuck. We’re not going anywhere yet.”
Allyson started to raise her weapon. “Goddammit.”
Chad pushed the barrel down. “Don’t. You’d be dead before you could squeeze the trigger.”
Allyson made a sound of frustration and twisted away from him. “Fine. Fuck them. Let’s finish this thing.”
A number of the Camp Whiskey soldiers had filtered back into the foyer. Jim was among them. There was a bright splash of blood across the front of his shirt, but he did not appear to be wounded. Chad assumed he’d killed someone in close combat. Bai reappeared, too, her sword dripping blood. She pushed her way to the middle of the throng and rattled off a quick set of instructions. “The ground floor is clear. Now we advance. You. And you.” She pointed at two of the camo-attired men. “Up the stairs. Get close, but not close enough to draw fire. You know what to do.”
The two men nodded and wasted no time following her orders. They unclipped gas masks from their belts and slipped them on. Then they crept up the stairs one careful step at a time. They stopped at a point about halfway up and hunkered down. One man kept his weapon trained on the second-floor landing while another man unsnapped two stun grenades from his belt. He tossed one up to the landing. It landed with a loud thump on the hardwood floor and rolled down the hallway. The second one bounced off the wall beyond the landing and for one tense millisecond Chad was sure it would come tumbling back down the stairs. But the grenade caught a funny bounce as it hit the floor and went backward down the hallway. This all happened in the space of maybe five seconds. Terrified screams resounded in the second-floor hallway as several people saw the bouncing black objects and recognized them for what they were.
Then there came a loud, teeth-jarring BANG!
And another.
Then smoke was billowing from the hallway and a number of Camp Whiskey soldiers went racing up the staircase as Bai screamed at them:“UP! UP! UP! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”
To Chad she seemed like a madwoman herding human cattle. Then she was at his back, the heel of her hand slamming between his shoulder blades, driving him forward. “GO! FIGHT!”
Chad’s feet found the staircase and he began to move up even as he heard gunfire erupt anew above him. He fumbled with his own gas mask and somehow managed to get it on. Then Allyson was racing up the staircase, hurrying past him to put herself between him and the bad guys yet again.
Chad ran after her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Marcy burst through the bedroom door into a hallway choked with black-clad Apprentices and a handful of Black Brigade soldiers who were attempting to herd the frightened sadists back into their rooms. She looked to her left and right and saw no immediate sign of Ellen. Shit. She went up on her toes and lifted her chin in an attempt to see above the heads of the babbling morons in her way. Sometimes it was a real pain in the ass being a short girl. Then she finally caught a glimpse of the bobbing head of a person weaving between the gathered Apprentices.
Ellen.
She was heading toward the staircase to the second floor. Toward the source of all that gunfire. Marcy shoved people aside with one hand and waved the Glock around with the other as she set off in desperate pursuit. She ignored the frequent shouts of protest and pushed her way forward with reckless abandon. One big male Apprentice glared at her and moved back into her path. He was opening his mouth to say something when she shot him between the eyes. She hopped over his falling corpse and continued forward with greater ease, the Apprentices and Black Brigades shrinking away from her, creating a wide path straight down the middle of the hallway.
Marcy caught sight of Ellen’s back. She had reached the staircase landing and showed no signs of slowing down. Marcy put on a burst of speed as her sister started down the stairs. Some part of her was aware of how crazy this was. The thing she was risking her life for wasn’t really her sister. Dream could conjure another one into existence if it died. But some deep, familial instinct drove her forward anyway.
She reached the staircase and went full-throttle down the stairs. The second-floor hallway was choked with smoke. Ellen reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into that billowing white cloud. God alone knew what was driving her. She was heading into the worst of the danger rather than away from it. The only thing Marcy could figure was she was trying to get out of the house. Too bad she lacked the intelligence to recognize the impossibility of escape by that route.
Marcy leaped over the last four steps and landed hard on the floor. Pain exploded in her ankles, but she ignored it and moved into the hallway. A lot of Black Brigade men were in front of her now. And Ellen. Bullets whined in the air, punching holes in the walls, blowing out lights, and occasionally shredding the flesh of the soldiers. The smoke wasn’t as thick at this end of the hallway, and Marcy was grateful for that. She figured they had a few moments of relative safety, a narrow window of opportunity of which she meant to take full advantage.
She grabbed Ellen by the wrist and spun her around. The girl yelped and looked at her with eyes wide with fear. She didn’t seem to recognize Marcy at first. Then she cried out and threw her arms around Marcy in a rough embrace. Tears welled in Marcy’s eyes. She broke the embrace and grabbed Ellen by the wrist again. “Come on, girl, back upstairs. We’re gonna go see Dream.”
Ellen opened her mouth and said, “Muhmuh…muh—”
Marcy began to drag her back toward the staircase. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me later, okay?”
Then Ellen let out a startled wheeze and Marcy turned to look at her. The front of Ellen’s shirt was red, and there was a big, ragged hole between her breasts. A stray shot had caught her when Marcy had her back turned.
Ellen dropped to her knees and Marcy dropped with her. She put her hands on her dying sister’s shoulders and tears filled her eyes again as she said, “Ohno. Ohnononono. Not again. Not again.”
Then Ellen sagged forward into her arms and Marcy guided her gently to the floor. The battle continued to rage ahead of them, but for the moment Marcy was oblivious to it. She stroked Ellen’s hair and continued to utter her desperate denials. Ellen’s breathing was shallow and uneven. Blood spilled from the corners of her lips. Her eyes were glassy and Marcy could see the life seeping rapidly out of her. She would be gone within moments and there was nothing she could do about it. Not a single goddamned thing. It was that night in that fucking hotel room all over again.