“What the fuck!” Chris snarled at me. I flicked the switch to activate my gun, spraying holy water directly at a spot between the two circles, the spot we were flying toward at alarming speed.
The water hit a wall of magic. As we watched, horrified, the concealing veil fell, revealing a thing I could only describe as a monster.
It was strange, a shimmering thing, its appearance so affected by magic that it was hard to focus on it. I could tell it was huge; I got the impression of batlike wings and long tentacles lined with vicious hooks made of bone, but I couldn’t actually see them. I could see the eyes. Its eyes were terrifying, gleaming with intelligence, endless malice, and a terrible hunger. It roared, the sound beating painfully against both my ears and my psyche.
“Shit!” Rob shouted, banking the chopper hard enough that I would’ve fallen out had Chris not grabbed me. We made the turn, but when the thing swiped at us with a hook-lined tentacle, it missed only by inches.
“Where to?” Rob shouted, his voice hoarse. “The magic’s too thick to get near either encampment.”
“Go behind that rise.” I pointed to a clear spot and prayed that I wasn’t being an idiot. We’d be in for a long, hard run, but it was the best we were going to do.
Emma grabbed me by the arm. “That thing is demonic. Has to be. I’m going to call the archbishop and have him send in reinforcements.”
“Rob,” Chris called, “get the chopper as close to the blue encampment as you safely can. But stay alert. Don’t let yourself get overrun.”
Rob gave him a vigorous thumbs-up without bothering to turn around and look at him.
I nodded, and as Chris threw the cables out the open door I looked down, fighting to master my fear.
I was jumping out of a helicopter. Oh, God, I was jumping out of a freaking helicopter. Could I do this? I bit my lip till I tasted blood. In my ear I heard barked orders as our force rallied to repair the hole the missile had created in our defenses.
I grabbed the line and jumped.
Even with the gloves on I felt the burn of the rope, like fire sliding through my hands, as the ground rushed up to meet me. I had to let go about ten feet from the ground, dropping into soft sand, easing some of the impact by bending my knees and allowing myself to fall forward onto my bent arms. I rose into a crouch. As I did, I pulled the nozzle of my water tank around, aiming with my right hand as my left hit the lever to release the water. A plume of water as thick as my wrist arced upward. I made sure to aim high; drops of holy water fell like a hard rain on the front ranks of the attacking army. Most dropped their weapons, screaming as if acid were pouring onto them from above. The ones who didn’t brought weapons to bear on me and on the man beside me. But before a single enemy shot rang out, Chris went to work, mowing them down with blessed bullets before pulling the pin and throwing one of his holy hand grenades.
There were cheers from our side; I could hear them even over the gunfire. As if we’d choreographed it ahead of time, Chris and I started backing carefully away, always adjusting the spray to keep the pressure on them. The footing was awkward, loose sand mostly, but with the occasional rock or cactus that would throw you off balance if you weren’t careful. I could feel the tank on my back getting lighter—much lighter, and much too quickly. I was going to run out of water before we reached safety. The enemy sensed it. I could see them holding back, watching the volume of the arcing water drop, waiting for the moment to rush us, to make us pay for the pain we’d meted out.
The late afternoon sun beat down on me. My skin heated and began to burn. Tears of pain sprang to my eyes. But I kept the water flowing, even as tears blurred my vision so that I could barely see to aim.
“The opening is ten yards back and about forty feet to your right,” Talia said in my ear. “There’s a large rock behind you. Watch your footing.”
I adjusted my steps as the flow of water from the nozzle in my hands sputtered and died. Without hesitation, I dropped the nozzle and started in on my own belt of grenades. The enemy had hung back, but not far enough—they hadn’t counted on my vampire strength. Explosions tore through them, killing God alone knew how many. But not enough. Not nearly enough. We were close now, but Chris and I were both out of grenades. I drew my Colt, switched off the safety, and moved to cover Chris. There were plenty of targets: too damned many targets, many of them bearing hideous acid burns and expressions of unholy rage. They waited, poised to charge, as Chris’s tank sputtered and died.
“Now!” Chris shouted. Turning, he sprinted full out for safety. I was right at his heels, running a snake pattern, seeing the sand puff up as bullets tore into the ground all around me.
Suddenly, directly above me, there was a flare of light, blinding as a welding arc, bright as a magnesium flare. Talia’s voice, strong and clear, spoke the words of the Lord’s Prayer as she held up the symbol of her faith.
There were screams behind us. Not all the creatures were affected by the holy items, but enough were to slow the horde to a stop, enough to buy us those few instants we needed to make it through the gap in the wall of sandbags to safety.
Bubba helped me strip the water tank from my back even as he half dragged me away from the gap in the sandbags. We were in the shade. It felt glorious, heavenly. As the burning of my skin eased, I was able to take in what my friend was saying: “… expected anything to happen until dark. They’re using the power of the full moon. We figured it would happen after moonrise.”
It seemed logical. I’d assumed the same, and I should’ve known it wasn’t necessary. It didn’t really matter all that much that the moon was on the far side of the planet. It was still full. The power was still there. Oh, it was marginally more difficult to control—but that problem had been more than offset by the element of surprise that they’d gained. Damn it.
“Now what?” Chris asked. “I’m assuming you have a plan, that you didn’t just drag me down here so that you could die beside your buddy here.”
I glared at him and bludgeoned my weary brain. We needed to tip the balance in our favor. There had to be a way.
And then I had an idea, an absolutely wonderful, workable idea. I started smiling. “Bubba, where’s my rifle?”
32
“Talia has it. She’s the better shot.”
“And where’s Talia?”
“Right here.” Her voice came from behind me. She was smiling, miraculously uninjured after her stint atop the sandbag wall. She wore the rifle slung across her shoulder with an ease that spoke of plenty of experience.
“Set the weapon up on top of the wall, aim it toward the circle,” I ordered. “I have a target for you.”
“Right.”
She clambered up onto the nearest truck, lying on her belly on the roof. I watched, shivering from a sudden chill that probably had more to do with nerves than the fact that the sun was rapidly sinking in the West. The enemy had given up a cautious approach in favor of an all-out charge. The gunfire was almost constant.
When the grenade dropped in front of me, I didn’t have time to think. Acting on instinct, I grabbed it, turned, and flung it over the wall as hard and fast as I could. Judging from the screams, it exploded behind enemy lines.
A familiar figure strode up. I’d worked with Roger Thomas in Mexico. He was a handsome man, well built, with prematurely gray hair and penetrating blue eyes. Even at the end of what had to have been a really rough day, his trousers had a crisp crease and his posture was perfect. His entire attitude spoke of command.
“Graves, you really know how to make an entrance.” He greeted me with a tired smile. Something about the expression bothered me, setting off alarm bells in the back of my head. The whole time we’d been in Mexico I’d never once seen him smile. Then again, there hadn’t been a lot to smile about. There wasn’t now either. I shivered again but kept my voice pleasant and neutral and watched him very closely.