Midnight's Daughter
Page 46

A long-handled knife came out of nowhere, severing the throat of the creature holding my calf. Unfortunately, it didn’t retract its claw before plummeting to the ground, its weight taking me and the bigger creature along for the ride. We landed with a teeth-rattling crash, with me on top of the dying one. I ripped the knife out of the remains of its throat, but even though I had a weapon, it’s hard to hit something you can’t see. The talons sunk deep into the muscles of my shoulders ensured that I couldn’t turn around to deal with my other attacker.
Luckily, one of the other creatures decided that the position also ensured that my attacker had limited movement, and tore into it. Its claws ripped out of me and I turned, sinking the knife deep between its ribs, angled upward. I felt the resistance as the knife cleaved the heart in two, heard the great muscle stagger and begin to fail; then the creature spasmed and fell, almost crushing me beneath it. I pulled out the knife and jumped back, just in time to meet my new attacker. How the hell many of these things were there?
This one was larger than the others, so big that its huge wings were useless appendages; it had had to wait for prey to fall to the ground. Prey like me. We slowly circled the huge rib cage of the dying creature, its torso heaving with shuddering breaths. The knife was so slick with blood and the now-pounding rain that it kept threatening to slip through my fingers. Even worse, this creature seemed smarter than the others. It didn’t have the human eyes that had so disturbed me on the leader, but it watched me with calculation nonetheless, waiting for me to make a mistake. I had the feeling one would be all it took.
The electricity had come back on when the wards had failed, causing the landscape lighting to click on. The co-ziness of the golden light was in stark contrast with the angry silver streaking through the sky. It cast odd patterns of brightness into the gloom, allowing me to see other assorted horrors slinking past, giving us a wide berth as they moved toward the house. Louis-Cesare’s face stared down at me, a pale oval against the darkness, and called out something. But his voice was swallowed by the downpour, and I didn’t have time to worry about it because the creature attacked.
It was like facing three opponents instead of one. Leathery wings batted me in the face with the force of solid punches, claws ripped at my skin, and that vicious beak tore into the ground right beside me, carving a furrow in the earth where I’d been standing a half second before. I lashed out, but it moved with liquid speed, vampire quick, and my knife only bit into a small section of wing. It flexed its talons and its long, whipping tail, a piercing scream of defiance issuing from its throat.
I quickly realized that it was faster than I was. It seemed impossible—only master vampires could usually make that claim—but there was no doubt about it. I got a hand on it once, but the rain and the slick texture of its flesh made it as slippery as oiled glass and I couldn’t keep hold. Within seconds, it became a moot point as I was forced to give up all thoughts of attack. It took everything I could do to avoid being shredded by those ferocious claws or impaled by that razor-sharp beak.
My predicament wasn’t helped by the fact that the creature’s clawed feet churned up the dirt of Radu’s once-manicured yard, mixing with the rain to create a slippery, treacherous surface. Its greater weight gave it an advantage in keeping balance, one I didn’t have, especially not in bare feet. I swerved out of the way of a darting claw and slid in the mud, ending up right beneath its underbelly. Its tail snaked out, coils whipping around my neck, immovable as granite.
I took the only chance I had and slashed upward, hitting what felt like a bulging wineskin—a leathery exterior over a soft center. A flood of blood and ropy intestines drenched me in a sticky, sickening mass. I tried to fight my way free, but the creature wasn’t dead yet, and it intended to take me with it—the coils of that deadly tail tightened until I couldn’t breathe at all.
I slashed at it with the knife, finally managing to hack the tail in two and to draw a shaky breath when the coils slipped off. But although I was free, there was nowhere to go. The only way to avoid that deadly beak was to stay out of its way, and there was only one chance to do that.
The huge body had sagged over me. I widened the slit and crawled inside the split cavity, burrowing upward. I couldn’t see, and trying to breathe was once more impossible. I fought blindly, the knife going ahead of me, ripping through everything in its path. I felt it in my arms when I hit bone, and pushed upward in a single heave. Ribs popped, flesh parted and the creature fell, its writhing jostling me this way and that, its screeches muffled by its own body.
Its movements finally slowed, but I had lost my grip on the knife in the upheaval. I began tearing at the tissue surrounding me with my hands. I was almost out of time—I had to breathe soon or suffocate—but I would likely be blind for a moment when I pulled out because of all the blood. I had to be sure the thing was in no shape for one final attack at that point, or I’d be as vulnerable as it was now.
I grabbed at anything, ripping and clawing, but my strength wasn’t up to par and without the knife I couldn’t do much damage. The body had stilled around me, and my lungs were burning in my chest, screaming at me to take the risk, to get out while I still had enough strength. I started moving backward, and then realized I had a new problem: the thing had collapsed onto its belly, closing the wound and cutting off the only exit I had. I pushed and fought from inside, but the leathery skin was impervious to all attempt to break through it. It stretched, but held, and my efforts were growing feeble as the burning in my chest spread weakness throughout my body.
One of my searching hands encountered something soft that had a familiar resiliency. Biting it open, I smashed my face against the cavity, and inhaled. I’d been right—the creature’s lung had retained enough air for one breath, and despite being damp and fetid, it was sweet in my lungs.
It bought me some time, but not much, and my limbs still felt like they were moving through molasses. Then my hand closed around something long and sharp and hard, and I gripped it like the lifeline it was, even though the blade cut into my palm. I was trying to turn it, to get a cutting edge against that damnable hide, when a gaping hole was slashed in the darkness. A cascade of water droplets blew in on me, wetting my face, and I gasped in a great lungful of the cold, clean scent of rain.
“Dorina!” I was hauled from the bloody cavern, my body making a squelching sound as it tore free. “Dorina!” Blood was in my ears; I could barely hear, but the sound of Louis-Cesare’s voice got through somehow. I pried open my eyes, blinking God knew what aside, and he caught me in a fierce embrace. His saber arm was crimsoned to the shoulder, and his other hand was gloved with gore. I’d never been so happy to see anyone.
“I’m okay,” I croaked, wondering if it was true as the world spun around me. I felt myself being lifted. One second we were by the carcass, the next beside the house. Louis-Cesare pressed me against the stucco, gripped my face in one large, muddy hand and kissed me. I fought free after a moment, gasping for air, trying to keep the heavy mass of hair dripping down his bare shoulders from suffocating me. “Not the time!” I choked.
“Est-ce que vous êtes folle?” His voice was harsh.
“No more so than you,” I gasped, spitting out something squashy that I didn’t look at too closely. “And considering everything, I really think you can use the familiar.”
“I told you that I was coming—” For some reason, he was shaking.
I had a bad taste in my mouth. I spat and it was red, but I didn’t think the blood was mine. “What? Did you think one little bird was going to do me in?” The liquid fatigue in my muscles forced me to lean against the house to keep from falling over. I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hell, that was just a warm-up.”
Louis-Cesare muttered something I didn’t catch. Probably just as well. I ran a trembling hand over myself to check that all my parts were still there. I appeared to be okay, other than for assorted claw marks. The only ones that worried me were those on my abused shoulders. They were bad enough to limit my movement.
I tried to step out of the circle of Louis-Cesare’s arms—we were under an overhang from the roof, and considering that I was soaked with bird goo, I preferred to stand in the rain. But he tightened his grip and glared at me. “You are not going anywhere!”
“Oh, okay. You’re going to round up Radu’s little horrors and guard him from whatever has already slunk into the house, and get the wards up all by yourself?” I gestured at the shadowy landscape, where all that exotic foliage was rustling menacingly. Some of that was due to the rain, but not all.
“I will do what I must.” Despite his mud-splattered skin and the fact that the waterlogged towel was drooping dangerously, he managed to make it dignified.
I bit back a smile and a very inappropriate comment. “I can take care of myself.”
His jaw clenched. “As you did a moment ago?”
I opened my hand and showed him the knife I still clutched. “Yeah.”
Louis-Cesare stared at it for a long moment, expressionless. “You’re hurt,” he finally protested.
I brushed a piece of intestine off my shoulder. “It’s hurt worse.”
“You can assist Radu—”
“I know jack about wards,” I said flatly. “I know a lot about killing things. You and ’Du get the wards up around the pen, and make sure they recognize me. I’ll do the rest.”
No answer, just the interlacing of warm, strong fingers with my own. The knife was tugged from my grip. I let it go—I needed something bigger anyway.
“Louis-Cesare . . .”
“No!”
“Louis-Cesare,” I repeated quietly. “Look at me. I’m covered in blood and entrails. I just gutted a creature that would send most people into gibbering fits. And speaking of fits . . . well, let’s not. The point is, I can take care of myself.” I took a breath. “I’m not Christine.”
I braced for anger about my prying. What I got instead was a look so far from anything I’d expected that it took a second for me to recognize it: the quiet, professional assessment of a colleague. “I will send you assistance,” he finally said, “and once the perimeter wards are up, I will return to help you.” A sword was pressed into my hand.