Blood Prophecy
Page 67

She added a few more stakes to her belt and then added her leather jacket. She watched her parents cross the porch, staying low. An arrow hit one of the cars in the driveway.
“Goddamn it,” Duncan said.
“Ready?” Solange yelled over her shoulder. “Don’t kill them if you don’t have to, they think they’re doing their job,” she reminded them before kicking the door open and stalking outside. “Tristan!” she shouted, her voice sounding wobbly and delicate. “I’m here.”
She ran across the snow as if being chased. There was an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of swords clashing in the distance. I grabbed the bow and darted upstairs as the others slipped out the back door. Nicholas frowned at me from the bottom step. “Where are you going? Tunnels are generally underground, Hamilton.”
I snorted from the landing. “I’m not running away.”
He dashed up the staircase, groaning. “Don’t do this to me again.”
“I can help,” I insisted. “And I promise you can rescue me in a minute. Just let me clear the way a little first.” I went into Aunt Hyacinth’s room because it had the best vantage point from the window. Her pug, Mrs. Brown, tried to bite my ankle before she remembered she knew me. I slipped outside onto the widow’s walk and notched an arrow, smiling grimly. Nicholas tried to edge into the space with me but he banged into my elbow.
“Nicky, there’s not enough room for the overprotective boyfriend thing right now,” I said, elbowing him back. “But I could use your eyes,” I added. The moonlight and the snow made it easier but it was still too dark for me to see very well and I didn’t have night-vision goggles on me. I hadn’t even thought to pack them. Tonight was supposed to be the long-awaited family reconciliation party, not another ambush.
You’d think I’d learn.
Nicholas climbed up on the overhang, straddling the shingles. With his eyes gleaming and fangs out he looked like a particularly creepy gargoyle on a gothic mansion. “Ready?”
I lifted the bow again, sinking into my breath, finding that quiet center where nothing mattered except my fingers around the bowstring, the arrow and the path it needed to take. I shut out my boyfriend crouched above me, the cold wind, the howl of coyotes in the wood. I was the bow. I was the arrow.
“On your right, two o’clock,” Nicholas said.
I squinted, catching the shadow. I loosed an arrow, aiming it slightly to the right. I didn’t want to kill the vampire, as Solange said, just take him out of commission for the night. He flew off his feet, clutching the arrow in his shoulder.
“Nine o’clock, by the cedar hedge. Watch out for Quinn! ”
Very faintly I heard: “Lucy!”
I winced. “Oops.”
“He’s fine. Eleven o’clock, go low.”
Another arrow.
Solange was still running, crossing the field like a deer in hunting season.
“In the oak tree right of the driveway, up on a top branch,” he said. “Can you see?”
If I squinted, I could just make out a faint pale blur, and only because I knew exactly where to look. I took aim again and fired.
This target fired back.
The arrow slid with a violent twang into the very peak of the balcony’s overhang. An inch higher and it would have gotten Nicholas in the face, an inch lower and it would have scalped me. The fletching were red, like the arrow in Solange’s room. Chandramaa.
It was a warning shot. No one could have hit that target without being really, really good. Certainly good enough to take either one of us out. I exhaled sharply, my breath clouding in the cold.
“Okay, no more helping,” Nicholas said, sliding back down to the ground and shoving me back inside all in one fluid motion. “Let’s go.”
We raced around Aunt Hyacinth’s overdecorated tables full of knickknacks, Nicholas dragging me behind him like a kite. If he went any faster I might even get airtime. We went down two flights of stairs and passed the weapons room and the blood storage room before he slowed down. I was panting and jittery. Adrenaline, my old friend.
We went through the door to the regular tunnels, and down the damp corridor lit with blue emergency lights. The stone floor was slick with moisture. Nicholas was counting his steps. At eighty-three, he stopped abruptly and turned to the left. He ran his hand along the wall, dislodging dirt and spiders until he found a tiny nick a foot or so off the ground. He crouched and dug his thumb into it, turning hard. Instead of a regular door opening, there was a soft snick from the ceiling.
I blinked at the trapdoor. “Cool. I’m surprised you don’t have retina scans down here.”
“Technology breaks,” he replied, straightening. He pushed the door open and stale cold air drifted over us. “Usually at the worst possible time.”
I could just guess what Connor would have to say to that. Nicholas interlaced his fingers and made a step out of his hands. I settled my foot into it and he launched me up. I grabbed hold of the edge of the opening and struggled to pull myself up. I was inching across on my stomach, red-faced and gasping when he practically floated up beside me. I rolled over, covered in dust and spiderwebs.
There were no lights at all in this tunnel. It was so dark that once Nicholas closed the trapdoor behind us, I was disoriented. I couldn’t even see my own hands as I tried to sit up. If I’d been smart, I would have worn my regulation cargos with all their pockets. I was sure there were light sticks in most of them as part of standard procedure, not to mention a flashlight. I really needed to remember I was supposed to be a vampire hunter now. At least, part of the time.