Before I could grab Hull again, he backed up, putting distance between us as his hands lifted, starting a fresh spell.
The bowler-hatted zombie struggled up, knife in his grip. Hull looked from him to me, hands hovering, spell uncast. Only enough power to repel one of us. Which to choose--the knife-wielding zombie or the pissed-off werewolf? Before either I or the zombie could take advantage of his hesitation, Hull made his choice...and bolted.
Cover
HULL GAVE THE ZOMBIE A HARD SHOVE AS HE RAN PAST. ALREADY unsteady, the zombie fell. I raced after Hull.
"Elena!"
I stumbled as I wheeled back to Jaime. "Stay with Nick."
"But I can--"
"Please."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Once I wake him up, we'll be right behind you."
I'd seen Hull turn right, onto a side street, but there was no sign of him. I jogged along the sidewalk, sniffing and listening. When I reached the first corner, I peered around a building to see Hull fifty feet away, casting a spell at a door. An unlock spell.
I rocked on the balls of my feet, holding back until he was inside. Then I stole down the sidewalk. At the still-closing door, I paused. All was silent within. I grabbed the handle before the latch caught, then eased the door open.
Inside the small, dark vestibule, there were stairs leading down to my left. So Hull had taken refuge in a windowless basement, probably with one exit. I smiled.
The stairs stopped at a landing, then doubled back. I peered over the railing into the gloom. A dim security light at the bottom illuminated a time-card rack and punch on the right wall, and an open doorway to the left.
Down the steps, stop and look. A cavernous room opened before me, so big that in the near dark, I couldn't see the other three sides.
As my night vision kicked in, I could see enough to know where I was. The room--at least fifty feet square--was filled with cheap office tables, arranged like pews. On each desk was a row of telephones and headsets. A telemarketing pit.
I'd worked in telemarketing at fifteen, too young for something better and needing more pay and hours than a fast-food job would provide.
There were two exits, not counting the one I'd come in. One opened into a small room with a curtained glass wall. The supervisor's office. The other led to a hall--lunchroom and supply closets if this setup was anything like my old workplace.
Which had Hull picked? Office or hall? Or was he still here, huddled behind a table, waiting to slam me with a knockback spell when I passed? I went still, sniffing and listening. His scent was here. Been here or still here, it was impossible to tell.
Something clattered in the back hall. I hurried forward. At the hall entrance, I paused and peered through. It was a short corridor, no more than fifteen feet, with two closed doors to my left and one open doorway to my right.
Hull's scent hung in the air, giving me no directional clues. I considered bending to check for a trail, but these days I couldn't fly up from a crouch. Better to stay standing and rely on my other senses.
The open doorway led to the lunchroom. I could tell by the stink--food that probably smelled just fine on its own, but when combined and left to mellow, was enough to revolt the hungriest stomach.
Edging against the door jamb, I glanced inside. It could have been a carbon copy of my old lunchroom--little bigger than a walk-in closet with a sauce-spattered microwave, a Goodwill rescue dinette set and an ancient refrigerator.
No hiding places even for a small man like Hull. Well, there was the fridge, but he'd need to clear out all the condiments and unwanted food.
The first closed door was locked. I checked the second. Also locked. Back to the first. I twisted the handle hard and fast, snapping the simple key-lock.
I turned my back to the wall, then threw open the door. The stink of cleaning chemicals hit me. I peered inside. Just a closet--so jammed with janitorial equipment even Hull couldn't have squeezed inside.
As I closed the door, something rustled in the main room. Had Hull somehow retreated there while I'd been checking the other rooms? But how? He couldn't get past without--
Witch magic.
I cursed under my breath. Unlock spells were simple witch magic, and most sorcerers never bothered to master more than that, but they could learn stronger witch magic, like cover spells. I could have walked right past Hull and not known it unless he'd moved or I'd bumped into him.
I scanned the main room. All had gone silent. Of course it had. Hull had found a new spot, and cast his spell again. So why change places and risk making noise? Because he wanted me to hear him, to know he was there, and to keep searching.
Hull hadn't "accidentally" backed himself into this basement. He lured me in, and now he was teasing me while his spell power recharged enough to take me down--kill me if necessary, here in an empty basement where he could take what he wanted from me without fear of interruption.
My hands shot to my stomach. I had to get out of here. The impulse surprised me. Any other time, I'd have been hell-bent on showing this bastard he couldn't beat me, that I wouldn't be a victim. But now "showing him" didn't enter my mind.
I made my way slowly across the room, each step deliberate, gaze swinging from side to side, nostrils flaring as if searching, but my focus fixed on that exit doorway.
Footsteps clomped onto the stairs. Heavy footsteps, coming down. Nick? My heart leapt. With Nick I wouldn't have to run. We could flush out Hull and finish this--
The footsteps faltered as if he'd tripped and caught himself before falling. I hurried forward. If Nick was still hurt, then we were both getting out of here.
I rounded the doorway before I noticed the heavy stink of rotting flesh. I looked up to see the bowler-hatted zombie staggering down the stairs, knife in hand.
My heart sank, but I shook it off. This would do. Get the zombie in here, and I could run for reinforcements while he kept Hull busy.
"He's in here," I said. "He's using magic to hide, but he's here--"
The zombie's eyes met mine. I leapt aside just in time, as he barreled down the final steps, knife raised like a bayonet.
I backpedaled into the main room. The zombie faltered, as if still struggling under dueling orders. Then he shot forward. I backed up and smacked into the first table. As he came at me, I swung onto the table top, sliding across the slick surface and nearly tumbling off the other side.
"Elena!" Jaime's voice, from the top of the stairs.
"Down--"
The zombie's knife arced my way. I shimmied back along the tabletop, out of the knife's reach, then pushed to my feet. I turned, planning to leap to the next table. Then I saw Hull, across the room, face drawn in concentration as he warred for the zombie, the effort too much for him to continue casting the cover spell.
Our eyes met. He lifted his hand in a knockback spell, which would send me sailing right into the zombie. I kicked fast and low, keeping my balance. My foot connected with the side of the zombie's head just as Hull's spell hit me. The zombie went down. So did I--the spell sending me flying over him, so fast that I could barely protect my stomach.
I hit the floor in an awkward tumble, teeth clamping down on my tongue. As I scrambled up, Hull raised his hands in a second cast, his lips forming the words. Then he stopped, face darkening, lips forming a silent curse.
"Not quite able to muster enough juice, hmm?" I said, spitting as I tasted blood. I swiped my hand over my mouth.
Hull restarted his incantation.
"I hope that's nothing stronger than a knockback spell," I said as I advanced on him. "Or it's not going to work. Witch magic is tough on sorcerers, and you've already OD'd. But you know that, don't you? You can feel it."
Hull's lips twisted in a humorless smirk, but he said nothing.
"Maybe a hundred years ago, you could have done it, but you're still recuperating from an unexpectedly long incarceration. An incarceration that proves you're far from perfect...and too dumb to realize it."
He
snarled, and lifted his hands. Then he stopped before even beginning the incantation. I was now within fifteen feet of him. Just a little closer...
Hull looked over his shoulder.
"No escape there," I said. "It's a dead end."
I charged. Hull's hands went up, lips moving, but he'd never have time--
A jolt struck me, and I flew off my feet, body going rigid as if I'd been hit by an electrical shock. I tried to land in a roll, but my limbs wouldn't obey. I crashed down and lay there, mentally struggling to get up, body refusing.
Hull's face appeared above mine. "It's called an interrupted cast. I cast part of the incantation...then wait, so I can launch it at a moment's notice."
I fought to move, but my arms and legs only twitched randomly.
"I tried to make this easy," Hull said, kneeling beside me. "I really did. But you'd have none of it. Now, we have to do it the hard way."
His hands wrapped around my throat. I swung my head to the side and chomped down on the underside of his forearm. Then I ripped my head back, a chunk of flesh still between my teeth, his blood dribbling into my throat. Hull howled and fell back, clutching his forearm as blood spurted.
I pushed up and fell on him, my arms and legs little more than deadweights. My teeth sank into his flesh--any flesh--tearing, spitting and biting again, mind blank, spurred on by the instinct to use whatever I had to stay alive.
Hull's screams echoed through the room. Across the room, the zombie rose up and started lurching toward us. Hull's head lifted, gaze going to the zombie, relief and hope filling his eyes. His lips parted. I swung my head down, teeth clamping on his throat, and ripped. He screamed, a high-pitched death shriek that turned to a gurgle as blood filled his throat.
I pushed off him, some feeling finally returning to my limbs. Swiping my hand across my bloodied lips, I wobbled to my feet as the zombie drew closer.
"Uh-uh," said a voice across the room. "This one's mine."
A figure rounded the doorway--a tiny, dark-haired figure. Zoe--her throat still cut, the edges open, her voice wheezy and garbled.
She staggered a little, then rushed at the zombie, who turned at the last second to see an iron rod swinging into the side of his head. He fell. Her dark eyes glittering, Zoe leapt over him and swung again, with more force than seemed possible for her tiny frame. When she pulled back for a third swing, he started to crumble, and she stopped, rod still raised, waiting until he'd disintegrated.
"Glad that worked," she said. "I sure as hell didn't want to have to bite him."
"You're--" I said, still staring, as I had been since she'd come in.
"Alive, I hope," she said. "Or as close to it as I can get."
At a noise, she turned toward the stairs, swiveling her whole body, as if she didn't dare try to turn only her head.
"Oh, thank God," Jaime said, running in. "You are down here. I called, but I didn't hear an answer, then I couldn't summon that damned zombie. I tried and tried--"
"You did great," I said. "You controlled someone else's zombie. That's amazing."
She nodded and swallowed, face pale, as if she still wasn't sure how she'd done it. Then she saw Zoe.
"You're--"
"Alive," Zoe said. "Or so I hope. I am alive, right? Not a zombie. Not a walking ghost. Just my usual undead self?"
"Looks like it to me," Jaime said, smiling.
"Thank God." Zoe's dark eyes lit up as she tried to grin, then she winced, hand going to her throat. "God, that's gross. Please tell me it's healing."
"It looks like it," I said.
A small wheezing laugh. "Neck cuts are the worst. I'm always up for a new experience but this--" She shuddered. "This one I could have skipped." She looked down at the scattering of dust. "At least I got my payback. As vampires go, I'm not much of a predator, but that was one time I made an exception."
"Nick! Oh, God, where's--?"
"Back in the alley," Jaime said, taking my elbow and helping me to the stairs. She glanced back at Hull's body.
"You guys go on," Zoe said. "I'll handle cleanup duty. Done it before."
When we got back to where Nick still lay, Rose stumped her way toward us, face fixed in the horrible grimace that passed for her smile.
" 'e's gone," she said. "I can feel it. A real weight off my mind, let me tell you."
I scrambled over to Nick and shook his shoulder. His head lolled to the other side.
"Mmm, still tired, baby," he mumbled. "Gimme a couple minutes. I'll make it worth your wait."
"He's fine." I laughed.
" 'e might be," Rose said. "But I'm not. Now get yourself over 'ere and give me what you promised. I can't do it myself."
"Right."
I turned to Rose, but hesitated. As hideous as she looked, I couldn't forget that there was a person in there. Someone who had--until made a better offer--been ready to kill me and yet...
" 'op to it, girl," she said. "I 'aven't got all day. While you're standing there gawkin', I'm turnin' to mush."
I bit back a laugh. "Okay. Um, how do you want to do this? Snapping your neck is fastest--"
"Fast? Gawd's sakes, girl, you could 'ave 'ad it done by now. You did it fast enough the last time. Now 'op to it or--"
I grabbed her neck and snapped it before she finished the sentence, and hopefully before she saw it coming. As she crumbled, I took a deep breath, my heart tripping.
"She's better off now," Jaime said softly. "No matter where she went, it's better than where she was."
Price
I GOT NICK AS FAR AS THE SEMICONSCIOUS "WHERE AM I? What am I doing here?" stage, then left him to Jaime while I took the next step--one at least as terrifying as any that had come before it.
"A--Antonio," I said into the phone. "It's me."
"Elena?" His voice boomed loud enough to make my head rock. "Where the hell--?"
"We're okay. Nick's fine. I'm fine. Jaime's fine. Hull's dead. The zombies are dead. The portal should be closed. Is--" I swallowed, knowing if I could feel red-hot fury from Antonio, it was nothing compared to the icy blast that was coming. "Is Jeremy there?"
"He's with Clay. I'm outside, searching for you two. Or three, I suppose, if Jaime went with you. I thought she was in her room." A growl of a sigh. "Whatever you did, Elena, whether it killed Hull or not, it was stupid--"
"I know."
"And risky as hell--"
"I know."
Another sigh, softer. "And probably the right thing to do, but that doesn't mean I'm ever going to admit that to Jeremy. Understood?"
I gave a small smile. "Understood."
"Now get your asses back here pronto."
"We still have one more thing to do," I said. "Hull didn't disintegrate like the zombies. Zoe said she'd clean up but--"
"I'll be right there. But you're coming back. Get yourself and Jaime into a cab."
Somewhere on my headlong run up the hotel stairs, Jaime disappeared. She must have decided this was one family scene she didn't care to join.
I took a deep breath and knocked. Seconds ticked past. Then Jeremy opened the door. For a long moment, he just stood there and looked at me, face impassive.
A few years ago, getting a "welcome" like this would have crushed me. But now even if he stood there as calmly as if I'd returned from a coffee run, I could see the warring emotions in his eyes--as if he wasn't sure whether to hug me, congratulate me or scream at me. In the end, he just nodded and waved me in as he held the door. When I passed, his free hand went around my shoulder, an awkward half-embrace that slid into a gentle prod as he directed me where he knew I really wanted to go, to Clay.
I saw Clay and faltered. The room was dark, quiet and empty. Tolliver was nowhere to be seen, but the room was still littered with medical supplies, as if he'd just left. Clay lay on the bed, asleep.
I don't know what I expected. Not for him to be at the door, back to normal, furious and ready to wring my neck for taking such a risk. Nothing would have pleased me more, but that
wish had been only a fleeting fancy. Still, I had hoped to find him...awake.
"The drugs, I guess, huh?" I said. "You probably had to dose him pretty good--" I stopped as my hand touched his forehead, then quickly looked at Jeremy. "He's still warm."
"The fever broke, but he's still fighting the infection."
"Infection? But--" I looked at the bandages on his arm. "Have you checked--?"
"Yes, it's still there."
Jeremy walked over to me, close enough to touch, but just standing beside me.
"Okay," I said. "But that's because the portal isn't completely closed, I bet. It probably takes some time. We should send Nick and Antonio over, see whether anyone's come back through. Then we'll know it's closed."
Jeremy nodded, gaze down, and motioned for me to sit beside Clay while he took the chair. I made the call. Then all we could do was wait.
An hour later, Nick phoned. They'd returned to the portal site to find a growing crowd of media, police and onlookers. The three missing people had appeared shortly after Rose's death, unharmed and dazed, remembering nothing.
So the portal was closed.
And still Clay slept, still feverish, still infected.
The others returned. They checked on Clay, but there had been no change. Jeremy told them to make ready to head back to Stonehaven. When they left, I stood clutching Clay's warm hand.
"It didn't work, did it?" I said.
He shook his head.
"You knew it wouldn't. You knew Hull was lying, that closing the portal wouldn't cure Clay. There's no magic here, is there?"
He walked up behind me, very gently kissed the back of my head and whispered, "No."
My knees wobbled, and I grabbed the side of the bed, but Jeremy caught my arm to steady me.
"He'll be fine, Elena. Randall is coming back to do the debridement--cut away the infected area--"
"But that means--Tolliver said--It'll be permanent, won't it? Muscle damage?"
"Possibly." He hesitated. "Probably. His arm won't be perfect, but he'll still have it. Right now, those are my priorities. First, that he keeps the arm. Failing that, that he keeps his life."
I lowered myself onto the bed.
Jeremy put his hand on my shoulder. "Matthew Hull is dead. The portal is closed. Your babies are safe. You're safe. Yes, Clay might lose muscle. Possibly even his arm. But you know what he'll think about that?"