“Quite a night, eh?” Parks commented from a few feet away. Like Hapka, he was alert and ready for action. His black uniform blended into the heavy shadows infesting the catacombs, making him hard to see even though Hapka was practically beside him. “Crazy stuff.”
“Tell me about it,” Hapka said gruffly. Although a veteran in the Cleaner corps, with over six years of experience in the field, he found himself unusually on edge. This mission was unlike any other operation he had ever taken part in. He had never expected to see a vampire in charge of a mission, for one thing, let alone a goddamn Death Dealer. Yet here he was, letting this Selene chick lead them into the bowels of some creepy old castle in search of a couple of renegade Elders. It was enough to make any soldier nervous.
“So what happens after this?” Parks asked. He was a rookie, with barely a year of active duty under his belt. Hapka guessed that the chatter was the kid’s way of keeping his fears at bay. “I mean, is this it? Are we, well, unemployed now that the Old Man is… gone?”
“Just keep your mind on the job,” Hapka said, not too harshly. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame the rookie for being spooked. Hell, he was pretty creeped-out himself. In many ways, waiting like this was more unnerving than actual combat. Hapka almost wanted something to happen soon.
Watch it, he warned himself. Be careful what you wish for…
A whiff of wet fur was the only warning he got before a shaggy white beast suddenly pounced from the darkness, its savage claws and fangs flying at them like ivory shrapnel. The Cleaners whirled around and fired their rifles and submachine guns, but the snarling werewolf kept on coming. A fierce roar bellowed from the creature’s open jaws.
Unemployment was not something either man needed to worry about again.
The sound of gunfire galvanized Selene and the three commandos. She realized instantly that the alarming noise was coming from the soldiers they had left behind. The blaring gunshots quickly gave way to the bloodcurdling screams of men in mortal pain and terror.
Guns in hand, she and Samuel and the other two men charged back the way they had come. The chain attached to Sonja’s pendant was wrapped around her hand, while her fingers tightly gripped the Remington. The team splashed noisily through the water as Selene wondered who exactly was tearing the hapless Cleaners apart. Marcus? William? Both? Reaching a bend in the tunnel, she peered around the corner—and laid eyes on William for the first time.
The great white lycanthrope was hunched over the body of the younger Cleaner, looking just as fierce and formidable as that ancient woodcut had suggested. If anything, the nameless illustrator had failed to do the primordial werewolf justice; the beast before her eyes was larger and less human-looking than any other lycan she had ever encountered. His bristling pelt was the color of virgin snow, his kill-crazed eyes were as red as blood. Gore dripped from his mammoth jaws as he ripped out the soldier’s intestines with his teeth. Selene spotted the second Cleaner lying nearby, half-submerged beneath the bloody water, his legs and combat boots propped up against a heap of rubble. She couldn’t help wondering whether the upper half of the man’s body was still attached to his legs.
William sniffed the air, catching her scent. Abandoning his prey, he reared back on his haunches and unleashed a ferocious roar. His hackles rose along his back.
So much for the element of surprise, she thought. Swinging her shotgun around, she opened fire on William, as did the other Cleaners. The werewolf staggered back in surprise; silver bullets were a new experience for him. Flashlight beams converged on his monstrous form, along with four streams of automatic weapons fire. He yelped in pain as the high-powered fusillade knocked him about, the impact of the bullets causing him to gyrate upon his heels. Lycan blood spouted from the bullet holes, staining his snowy pelt. Smoke rose from the silver embedded in his flesh. Hirsute limbs flailed wildly, trying to ward off the barrage, before he turned and retreated into the pitch-black catacombs.
Still waist-deep in the water, Selene watched the werewolf escape. The amount of silver they had pumped into the creature’s hide should have been enough to poison any ordinary lycan, but Selene feared that William would not so easily be killed. In essence, he was the lycan equivalent of an Elder… hell, he was the lycan Elder. I suppose I should be thankful, she thought, that Marcus hasn’t tried to turn him into a hybrid yet.
She started to chase after William, hoping to catch up with the beast before he had a chance to heal. Samuel and the two remaining Cleaners ran past her and she hurried to catch up with them… only to hear a cold, sardonic chuckle behind her!
She spun around to find Marcus standing only inches away. The Elder was in human form, his wings tucked away beneath a soaked brown overcoat. She started to raise her shotgun, but Marcus was way ahead of her. Seizing her by her shoulders, he violently slammed her into the wall, the force of the collision knocking the rifle from her hands. The wall’s decaying mortar gave way as the two immortals crashed against it. Dislodged chunks of granite splashed down into the water, sending a spray of silt and algae everywhere. Dust and gravel rained down alarmingly from the ceiling.
Empty-handed, except for the pendant, Selene found herself pinned against the crumbling wall. Ironically, she saw that she was merely a hand’s breadth away from the remains of her old painting. The golden rays of the crudely drawn sun taunted her. She remembered Marcus stealing her blood back beneath the pier. Would he now claim the rest of it?
Marcus leaned in close to her, so that she could feel his cold breath upon her throat. He licked his lips in anticipation, then hesitated. He drew back his head and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. Puzzlement was written on his aristocratic face, followed by a look of stunned realization. Selene realized that he could smell his father’s blood in her veins. A hushed voice escaped his throat.
“What have you done?”
Whatever I had to, she thought bitterly. A righteous fury rose up inside her like a gathering storm. Her eyes flashed blue. An angry heart pumped the sacred blood of Alexander Corvinus through her body, infusing her with strength worthy of an Elder… or a hybrid. With an unexpected burst of power, she broke free of Marcus’ grip and drove him backward with a devastating series of kicks and punches. Her knuckles smashed into the Elder’s face, drawing blood. She delivered a one-two combination to his chin, followed by a forward kick to his solar plexus. His grunts of pain were like music to her ears.
Marcus reeled backward, astonished by Selene’s newfound power. Framed by the doorway to the hidden crypt, he halted his retreat and glared back at her with utter hatred. His eyes shifted to black. His wings began to unfold. Selene realized that he was getting ready to pull out all the stops
So am I, she thought. Retrieving her shotgun, she opened fire. Silver bullets slammed into his bare chest, tearing open his flesh in a way that reminded her of the gaping chest wounds that had killed both Michael and Corvinus. She was all in favor of history repeating itself. This is for you, Michael.
The relentless onslaught drove Marcus farther back into the formerly hidden alcove. He hissed angrily, baring his fangs, but Selene did not let up. She kept pumping the shotgun, then reloading with preternatural speed. The nonstop hail of bullets forced Marcus across the flooded chamber and up the stairs on the other side of the water, back toward William’s ancient crypt.
The shotgun rounds made a gory mess of his chest, which was now drenched with his blood, but were not enough to kill him. Ugly scabs gleamed wetly over his heart. He slashed at the air between them. Black eyes shot daggers at Selene. Leathery wings flexed ominously.
Not so fast, Selene thought. She still had one more trick up her sleeve. Holding up the gilt pendant, its inner blades fully extended, she stepped toward the depression in the wall. Marcus’ eyes widened in alarm as he realized what she was up to. He rushed forward, even in the face of her steady gunfire, but this time Selene had the advantage. She slammed the key into the lock and turned it forcefully. You shouldn’t have left
this behind.
The hidden door slammed down, trapping Marcus inside the crypt. He threw back his head and howled in frustration. Selene could hear his angry wail even through the heavy stone.
That’s one brother taken care of, she thought, reclaiming the pendant from the lock. She thrust the relic into her boot for safekeeping. At least for the present. She glanced uneasily at the fallen rubble strewn about the corridor. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that, beneath the waterline, some of the debris might have landed under the door, keeping it from closing all the way. What if Marcus manages to pry his way out?
Gunfire blared farther down the corridor. Selene realized that the Cleaners had caught up with William, or maybe it was the other way around. Tossing the empty shotgun aside, she drew her pistols. She took off toward the gunfire, with only a single backward glance at the prison door.
She would have to worry about that later.
Chapter Twenty-two
The helicopter circled above the castle ruins, awaiting further orders from Samuel. If necessary, the Lynx could maintain its position for over two hours before needing to refuel. Of the original team, only the gunner and the pilot remained aboard.
Not counting the body of Michael Corvin.
The flaps of the open body bag whipped about in the wind. Michael’s face looked just as inert as before, but deep inside his chest cavity something miraculous was occurring. Dead cells sparked to life, dividing and multiplying according to their genetic code. Fractured ribs reknit themselves. Punctured organs healed. A new heart blossomed within his body, growing steadily larger. Brain activity resumed inside his skull.
Intent upon their mission, the two Cleaners didn’t even notice Michael’s eyelids flicker.
Pistols in hand, Selene sprinted out of the flooded passageway, retracing her steps through the confusing catacombs. She reached a junction to two tunnels, not unlike the one they had found earlier. Maybe it was even the same one; at this point, she couldn’t be sure.
The gunfire fell silent momentarily, leaving her uncertain which way to go. Then an Uzi blared somewhere above her. Looking up, she saw muzzle flashes on the next level up. How the hell did they get up there? she wondered briefly. A barbaric roar greeted the flashing guns. Selene caught a blur of motion just overhead. A body plummeted toward her.
She jumped out of the way as a Cleaner crashed down onto the stone floor. The man’s face and chest had been torn to ribbons; she could tell in a glance that the man was already dead. At least it’s not Samuel, she thought, grateful that the team’s leader might still be alive. It troubled her that she couldn’t quite remember the Cleaner’s name. Levin maybe, or Levant.
Three dead humans already. William was making up for lost time.
Not if I can help it, she vowed. Choosing a tunnel at random, she charged into the shadows.
There had to be a staircase around here somewhere!
Inside the sealed crypt, Marcus completed his transformation. His reddish hair and beard receded into his skull, leaving his head bald and sickly white. His aquiline nose stretched into a batlike snout with large, flaring nostrils. His ears flattened against his skull, while also expanding in size. His skin took on an opalescent sheen. The furious hybrid banged his claws against the stone door. The talons on his wings dug angrily at the solid rock. Black eyes flashed with homicidal rage. He gnashed his fangs and howled like a banshee.
The irony of it all galled his soul. At long last, he had freed his brother, only to end up trapped inside the very crypt that had been William’s prison for six centuries. And Selene—that wretched bitch of a Death Dealer—had the key once more!
He cursed himself for letting her live before. I should have killed her when I had the chance, he lamented, instead of merely sampling her blood. His impatience to confront his father, and free his brother, had been his undoing, causing him to leave Selene alive to interfere with his designs once again.
I shall not make that mistake again, he vowed. He was not chained into a sarcophagus like William. This crypt would not hold him as it had his brother. I shall find a way out.
And when he did… Viktor’s pet would join her creator in oblivion.
Selene charged up a narrow stairwell, trying to reach the upper level as soon as possible. From the sound of it, the besieged Cleaners needed all the help they could get. By her calculations, only two commandos were left: Samuel and another soldier. At this rate, the entire team would be dead before she caught up with them.
An arched doorway appeared at the top of the steps. Despite the urgency of the situation, she did not forget her training. Playing it safe, she inched around the edge of the doorway and cautiously peered past the threshold. Her twin Walther P99s were poised and ready.
The flash of a muzzle gave her barely enough warning. She ducked back behind the stone arch an instant before an eruption of gunfire that would have taken her head off. Bullets smacked into the ancient stones across from the portal, sending pulverized granite and mortar flying.
“Hold it!” she called out. “Fuck!”
The gunfire ceased as quickly as it had begun. “Sorry!” an embarrassed voice shouted back. Moments later, a sheepish-looking Cleaner emerged from the shadows. He was a young black man with a shaved head and clean-cut features. She seemed to recall Samuel calling him Greenway. The look of relief on his face made it clear that he was happy to see her. Not a response she often got from mortals. To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Where is he?” she asked tersely, meaning William.
The young Cleaner gestured to the left. “He went through there.”
Turning her head, she saw Samuel standing on what appeared to be a primitive bridge composed of thick, fraying ropes and decrepit wooden planks. Selene admired his courage for actually setting foot on the ramshackle structure, even as she questioned his wisdom. Perhaps he figured that, if the bridge could support William’s weight, it should be able to hold up a couple of humans and one fairly trim vampire?
Sounds good in theory, she thought. It’s the practical application that gives me pause.
She stepped warily out onto the bridge. It swayed and creaked beneath her weight, but appeared to hold together, at least for the time being. She remained on guard, however, ready to leap for safety at the first hint of a collapse. Unlike the fragile humans, she actually stood a good chance of surviving should the bridge give out. After all, she had stepped off tall buildings and cliffs before. What was one shaky bridge by comparison?
She and Greenway joined Samuel on the bridge. Looking across the rickety span, she saw that it led to another section of the ruins. Now that she had reached this upper level, she was able to get a better picture of the overall layout of the dungeons. Although much of the underground labyrinth remained shrouded in darkness, there could be no mistaking the vast dimensions of the castle’s subterranean vaults. She thought back to all those heavy carts of debris that the workers had dug out from the earth during the original excavations, all those centuries ago.
My father created all this?
She peered over the edge of the bridge. The Cleaners’ flashlights picked out details of the level they had left behind, with its flooded crypts and catacombs. If nothing else, this higher floor might be substantially drier. She wondered if Marcus was still locked away in his brother’s prison.
“We think William went this way,” Samuel confirmed. Together, Selene and the two Cleaners slowly made their way across the uninspiring bridge. Heavy ropes stretched tautly. The sagging wooden planks creaked and moaned beneath their feet. Selene winced inwardly at every sound. William was definitely going to hear them coming.
Selene held her pistols before her, while Samuel and the other man swept the darkness with the searchlights attached to their rifles. The two Cleaners gripped their Uzis. Amidst all the rubble and shadowy recesses, there was no shortage of places for a crafty werewolf to hide. Selene reminded herself not to underestimate William’s intellige
nce. Despite his bestial appearance and appetites, he could not have eluded Viktor’s Death Dealers for so long if he had not possessed innate cunning.
More than once, she thought she spotted movement in the tenebrous gloom, but she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps she had merely glimpsed a frightened rat or lizard, or maybe it was just a trick of the light? She didn’t want to waste her precious ammo on anything less than William himself.
A stretch of worm-eaten wooden planks broke apart beneath Greenway. Watching out for a werewolf instead, the young Cleaner was caught completely by surprise. He started to fall through the gap, but Selene grabbed him and pulled him to safety with superhuman strength. She steadied him as he regained his footing on a more solid portion of the bridge. He gave her a grateful look.
“Thanks!” he exclaimed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “That was a close—”
“You all right?” Samuel began.
A tremendous roar cut him off as William charged up behind him, then bounded onto the bridge from a nearby ledge. His slashing claws struck out at them almost before Selene and the others realized what was happening. Muzzle flashes strobed in the darkness as they opened fire at the attacking beast. In the confusion, Selene saw William’s jaws take a gory chunk out of Samuel’s throat. His gun fired wildly, winging Greenway. Blood spouting from the severed arteries, the leader of the commandos tumbled over the edge of the bridge. Greenway grunted in pain.
No! Selene thought. Everything was happening too quickly!
Greenway was the next to go. He fired wildly at the unstoppable werewolf, but William’s bloody claws tore open his throat and chest with a single slash. The wounded Cleaner collapsed onto the creaking wooden planks, his life’s blood pouring out of him. His body twitched once, then fell completely still.