“I know you didn’t start wearing garlic and weed just to make a bold fashion statement, and that your sudden popularity with ghosts didn’t start until after you saw Marie,” Vlad said, his mouth twisting. “Hadn’t quite worked it all out until this morning, when I heard you mention being able to stand the ‘freaky ghost juju’ from Marie during that unutterably sappy conversation you had with Bones. Then I realized what was going on. Very impressive, being able to absorb powers from ghouls, too.”
“Are you crazy?” I hissed, looking around. “What if this cemetery is crawling with you-know-who’s people and they overheard you?”
He snorted. “It’s not. I’d feel it if there were ghouls here. I’m a lot older than you, so my range is stronger. The only dead things around for a mile in any direction are you, me, and everyone buried under the dirt.”
That mollified me, but I still remembered the warning Bones had relayed from Marie about what would happen if we told anyone that I’d drunk her blood. “It’s not just the dead or undead we need to worry about overhearing,” I said, jerking my head toward the window.
“If you see a ghost, just order it not to say anything,” Vlad replied inexorably. “Don’t think that’s escaped my attention, either, Reaper.”
Aw, fuck. Well, what did I expect? Despite the garlic and ganja armor, some of them still made their way to me and I’d had to send them off with a firm instruction not to come back. With staying under the same roof as Vlad for the past week, he had to have overheard, even if I’d tried to make my orders really soft.
“This can’t become common knowledge,” I said finally.
Vlad let out a single laugh. “To use a phrase from your generation, no shit.”
“I think that expression’s older than my generation,” I muttered, but let that drop. Vlad knew and that’s all there was to it. At least he wasn’t the gossiping type, so I still had a decent chance at this not getting around. But what he wanted me to do was out of the question.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking for. It’s not as simple as holding a séance. It’s too dangerous.”
Those coppery green eyes bored into mine. “I know very well what Marie can summon, and if you can now also call forth such creatures, that would give vampires a critical edge if we are unable to kill Apollyon and prevent war from breaking out.”
“Calling them forth isn’t what scares me,” I said, a shiver of remembrance running through me. “Controlling them once they’re here, or sending them back, that’s the problem.”
“This is far too important for you to refuse simply out of fear,” Vlad retorted.
“You just don’t get it.” I swiped a hand toward the cemetery for emphasis. “Those things—Remnants, Marie called them—are like ghostly land mines, and you’re asking me to stomp on them to see if I can direct the blast radius! It’s not fear for me that I’m saying no. They didn’t hurt me last time and probably wouldn’t again. It’s fear for you if I do it and fail.”
Vlad held up his hand. Flames covered it, indigo and orange intertwining across his skin without singeing a single hair.
“The power I have is only valuable because I can and will use it. Apollyon’s right; Marie’s new lack of allegiance to vampires is a game changer, but we now have the ability to counter the ghoul nation’s most devastating weapon through you, but not if you refuse to wield that power.”
I remembered the icy, ravenous feel of the Remnants, the mental maelstrom of their voices in my head, and shuddered. “I’ll wield it, or try to, only as a last resort. You don’t know how strong the Remnants are. I could raise them, lose control of them, and then end up watching them eat allies and enemies alike. Only a fool throws a risky Hail Mary pass in the first quarter of the game.”
Vlad’s brow arched insolently. “No, only a fool would attempt to see if their best weapon works during a battle instead of before it.”
“There are days when you really push my buttons, Tepesh,” I snapped.
“And there are days when I wonder how you’ve survived as long as you have,” he countered. “You won’t get a better chance to test your abilities than right now. Bones isn’t here, so your biggest concern is gone, and you can risk my life because I accept the danger, and because friends might be rare, but they’re not irreplaceable. Now, let’s get in the graveyard and get started. Before Mencheres calls and then lectures us into an early grave about how imprudent this idea is.”
Vlad’s face had been granite-hard during the first half of his speech, but then his lip curled almost impishly at that last sentence. I was torn by anger at his disdainful comment about my survival skills, dismay at how casually he assumed I’d react to his death, and amusement at how an over six-hundred-year-old Master vampire could still sound like a naughty kid planning to outwit his babysitter.
“You have got to be one of the most unusual people I have ever met, and considering all the strange ones I know, that’s saying a lot,” I managed, shaking my head.
His grin was shameless. “If you’re just now realizing what an original I am, Catherine, you’re even later to the game than I imagined.”
“Your arrogance deserves its own zip code, Drac,” I said, laughing despite myself.
“And you’re stalling. Get out and let’s get started.”
My flash of good humor vanished under an onslaught of nervousness. “Maybe we should wait for Mencheres. With that power of his, he might be able to help if things get out of hand—”
“Not when it comes to anything from the ground,” Vlad cut me off. “Grave magic is immune to Mencheres’s telekinesis. That’s why he couldn’t do anything to the zombies that New Year’s Eve except grab a sword and start hacking away at them like the rest of us.”
Good point. I hadn’t ever wondered why Mencheres hadn’t tried to stop that attack with his power. Probably because I was too busy thinking, Holy shit, we’re all gonna die!
And some of my friends had died. Nothing good ever came out of being close to magically raised creatures from the grave, in my experience. That brought up another concern, a less deadly but far more embarrassing one. I cleared my throat, glancing away from Vlad.
“You know, Marie said it wouldn’t happen that bad again, but just in case . . . if I do this and safely put the Remnants back, then all of a sudden start coming on to you, I don’t mean it. It’s just the aftereffects of being connected to the hungers of the dead. Not me suddenly having a crazed desire to jump on your jock.”
Vlad threw back his head and roared with laughter. Pink tears gleamed from his eyes before he reined himself in to just a few lingering chuckles.
“I’ll be sure to thwart any jock-jumping attempts you might make on me or anyone else,” he replied at last, his lips still twitching.
I sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out, trying to center myself before I made a leap into the other side, metaphorically speaking. I had no idea how to raise the Remnants, but I assumed I’d start with trying to tap into the connection I felt to ghosts and work my way up from there.
“You sure you want to be close by when I do this?” I asked, shooting a worried look at Vlad. “At best, you’ll get hurt. At worst, I won’t be able to stop them from killing you.”
His expression was a mix of utter ruthlessness and reckless challenge, making me wonder if he’d looked that way when charging on horseback into battle all those centuries ago.
“I’ve lived on the razor’s edge of death most of my life. Save your coddling for children, Cat; it’s wasted on me.”
Damn arrogant Romanian price. I hoped those weren’t his last words.
“All right.” I began to pull out all the packets of garlic and pot that I had stuffed inside my clothes. “Let’s try this.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Crickets chirped in a continual cadence around us, most of them hidden in the grass. Mosquitoes, though I could see them buzzing nearby, left me and Vlad alone. Guess they didn’t like undead blood, which was pro
bably a good thing. The world had problems enough without hordes of immortal mosquitoes being added to the mayhem.
Vlad lounged on a headstone, watching me silently. I’d chosen to go to the older section of the cemetery, not just because it was farthest from the road and any random passersby. It was also because, quite irrelevantly, I thought it was prettier. The simple upside-down U-shaped headstones and crosses reminded me of the cemeteries around where I grew up. They were the first place I tried when hunting for vampires as a teenager, but I never found any in them. It didn’t take long for me to realize that vampires tended to hang out in places where the living gathered, instead of surrounding themselves with the inedible dead.
No other vampires or ghouls might be here except us, but we weren’t the only supernatural beings lurking in the dark. I felt the tingles in the air, hanging like an invisible fog, marking the presence of residual energy from nonsentient ghosts. Every once in a while, a stronger pulse would ride the air, and I’d glance toward its source just in time to glimpse a faint silhouette before it disappeared. This cemetery had more than just residual ghosts, but I’d worry about them later. After I found out if I could do what I came out here to do.
“While I’m young . . .” Vlad drew out.
“You haven’t been young since the fourteen hundreds, a few more minutes aren’t going to make any difference,” I muttered, but then tried to focus on that buzz of energy in the air. Maybe that was the door that led to wherever the Remnants slumbered, when they weren’t being yanked into this reality. I tried to drop all my emotional shields, leaving myself open to the magic that I knew still resided in my blood from Marie.
Flashes of silver zoomed right for me from all sides, so fast I wouldn’t have had time to draw my knife even if that would have done any good. In the next instant, I was staring at five ghosts, two of them male, the other three female, one of whom was a child. All looked back at me expectantly.
“Yes?” the ghost with the old-style bushy mustache asked, as if growing impatient that I hadn’t said anything.
“Ah, sorry to disturb you,” I began, feeling very weirded out by the ghostly little girl. She had on a cap with strings and a hazy gown that hung to her feet. A nightgown, I realized, one whose style hadn’t been common for a hundred years or more. I’d never seen a child phantom before, and it made me unsure how to respond. It seemed wrong to order a little kid away without an explanation, especially when I’d probably woken her up.
Behind the spectral figures, Vlad whisked his wrist in the universal gesture for hurry it up.
“I didn’t mean to call you,” I went on, before he said anything rude to them. “I’m, uh, here for something else. Sorry I bothered you. Please, go back to whatever you were doing, and don’t mention we were here tonight.”
Without a word, the ghosts dispersed, the little girl vanishing just as quickly as the others. I fought the urge to call them back and ask if anyone took care of her. We were on a timetable, and Vlad might set my clothes on fire if I started questioning whether the little girl floated out here alone, or under appropriate ghostly guardianship.
But after a solid ten minutes of standing there with my eyes closed, leaving myself open to the unearthly energy in the air and trying to will the Remnants into being, I opened them with a sigh.
“It’s not working. We need to try something else.”
Vlad arched a brow. “We? I can’t help you with this, Cat.”
“Yes you can,” I replied, coming toward him. “Nerves, anger, or fighting seem to flare up my borrowed powers. I’m nervous about this, but clearly not nervous enough. So hit me. Hard. See if that gets me mad enough to do the trick.”
Bones had kicked my flying abilities into gear by throwing me off a bridge—but there weren’t any bridges here. If Vlad and I had a fair sparring session, that might prove counterproductive because I’d probably enjoy testing myself against the Master vampire. But not defending myself while getting pummeled would go against all my instincts as a fighter, and I was betting pain would instinctively trigger my anger even if I knew the logic behind it.
I’d been on my feet when I made the pronouncement, but was on my ass in the next second, my chest burning from a punch that felt like it crushed all my ribs. Looked like Vlad didn’t need me to cajole him into doffing his chivalry long enough to comply!
“That’s a good one,” I managed, grimacing at the pain of my bones reknitting themselves together. “Do it again.”
Vlad’s brown hair fell across his shoulders as he leaned down to pull me to my feet. “As you wish.”
This time, I was braced, but all that meant was I stayed on my feet instead of landing on my ass when Vlad unleashed another sledgehammer, this one into the softer area of my stomach. Technically, body shots were easier to recover from than a blow to the head, so he was being courteous in that regard, but technicalities faded into insignificance at the pain blasting through me. At least it wasn’t followed by the sound of my ribs snapping like the last time.
“Goddamn, that hurts,” I muttered, bending over in reflex.
A snort ruffled the top of my hair. “I assumed you weren’t looking for something that would tickle.”
So saying, Vlad let fly another blow, this one to my side. I staggered back, anger flaring.
“You can’t even give me a second to recover in between? It’s a wonder you’re still single, Tepesh!”
“Getting pissed now, though, aren’t you?” he replied, without the slightest hint of remorse. “Quit bellyaching, Reaper. I’ve seen you in battle. You can take far worse than this.”
Yeah, well, in battle it was kill or be killed, so adrenaline kicked in, acting like morphine for the pain. This, on the other hand, just hurt seven ways from Sunday. But he was right. The pain and frustration over not letting myself fight back was making me angry. In the past, that was a good sign when it came to accessing my borrowed powers.
“If this is the best you can manage, I suppose it’ll have to do,” I said, to egg him on. I’d need a rougher attack than this to get me good and steamed. “Just thought you should know, though—Bones hits so much harder than you do.”
He gave a bark of laughter before another blow sent me flying into a tree before slumping to the ground. Now my entire front and back hurt. I was definitely getting riled, yet still nothing happened as far as Remnant activity. Either this wasn’t working or I had to get a whole lot madder, fast.
I shook myself off as I sprang up, watching Vlad approach with far more slowness than he’d use if we were sparring for real.
“That last one was better, but quit punching like a girl,” I said. “Take off the leash. Just don’t knock me into any of the headstones. This is a nice cemetery. Breaking them would be disrespectful.”
Vlad let out something that sounded like a sigh. “You asked for it.”
I fought my instinctive urge to defend myself when I saw his arm wind up. I didn’t even let myself brace, the thought flittering through my head that it was a damn good thing Bones couldn’t see the two of us right now, or he’d be furious.
Then all mental reflections cleared my head at the exact same instant that Vlad’s fist landed there. Stars exploded in my mind, followed by a flash of searing pain and blackness. When I could see again, I was vaguely amazed that little blue birdies doing a slow circle above me weren’t the first things that met my vision.
“Again,” I said, wondering if it was actually possible for me to throw up. From the throbbing in my head, it might be.
The next blow took me across the jaw. My teeth snapped together hard enough that I was surprised I wasn’t chewing them. Blood dripped from my mouth. Vlad saw it, gave a slight, dismissive shrug that made me want to thump him, and raised his fist for another strike.
It never landed. I felt like ice flashed through my veins even as a shield of transparent bodies formed over me, deflecting Vlad’s blow as if they were made of solid diamond instead of only vaporous air. He stared at them with gr
im triumph as that shield of Remnants grew into a wall—and then fell on top of him.
“Good, it worked,” Vlad gritted out even as his whole body was smothered by them. “Magnificent weapon. This hurts . . . absolutely everywhere.”
Voices echoed all around me, some as low as growls and others in pitches so high they sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Vlad was right; it obviously worked. Now came the really hard part. I’d raised them, but I had to get them off him. It was hard to concentrate with them bombarding my mind with more voices than I could ever count. If I had any hope at controlling them, I needed to use the same techniques I’d developed while learning to keep humans’ thoughts from overwhelming me. Focus on one voice. Tune into it. Make everything else fade into the background.
“Vlad, talk,” I urged him. It was better to stay focused on his voice instead of getting lost in the myriad whispers of the grave. I scrambled to my feet, only then realizing that I’d been on the ground with his last blow.
“Rather busy . . . at the moment,” I heard amidst the whirl of other sounds.
“I need your voice,” I insisted, shivering convulsively. I was so cold. So tired. So hungry.
Vlad began to sing, words hoarse from his obvious pain. It took me several moments to feel in control of myself enough to focus on him alone—and to be amazed that Vlad knew the lyrics to “Run This Town.” I shook that off as I stared at him. His entire body was covered in Remnants, and I tried to ignore the tie I felt to them. The icy, ravenous hunger that threatened to blind me to everything else.
“Get off him,” I said to the sinuous, writhing forms.
Nothing happened. Not one of them even paused in their assault on him to look at me.
“Get off him,” I repeated, putting all my fear at what would happen if they didn’t into my voice.
Still the Remnants slithered over Vlad, coiling on and through him. His body arched in a way that was all too familiar, telling of his agony even if he wouldn’t let himself scream. Flames broke out across his hands, but the Remnants didn’t move to avoid them, nor did the fire seem to do them any damage when they slithered over them. Why would they? my mind supplied in rising fear. Remnants were made of energy and air. Two things that had never been harmed by fire before.