Winter Halo (Outcast 2) - Page 4

So I ignored the creature’s crushing weight, ignored the blood and the pain and the gore that gleamed wetly on the ground all around me, and sucked the energy of the night deep into my lungs. It filtered swiftly through every aching inch of me, until my whole body vibrated with the weight and power of it. The vampire within rose in a rush—undoubtedly fueled by fear and desperation—and swiftly embraced that darkness, becoming one with it, until it stained my whole being and took over. It ripped away flesh, muscle, and bone, until I was nothing more than a cluster of matter. Even my weapons and clothes became part of that energy. In this form, at least, I’d be harder to pin down.

I slipped out from under the wraith and fled upward toward the graveyard once again. But I wasn’t out of danger yet. I might now be as invisible to the mortal world as any vampire or, indeed, the wraiths themselves, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t sense me. Didn’t mean they couldn’t kill me. The number of vampire bones I’d seen near active rifts over the years was testament to the fact that this particular vampire trick made little difference to a wraith’s ability to hunt and kill them.

I finally crested the hill and surged into the cemetery. In this form, I saw the spectral mass that was the gathered ghosts glimmering in the darkness. Their bodies were blurred, barely resembling anything humanoid, which meant I’d been right—these ghosts were very old indeed. Even so, I could taste their fear—of me, not of the things that pursued me. They might not know what wraiths were, but they were familiar with vampires and were now seeing me as one of them.

They wouldn’t help me.

Air began to stir around me again, buffeting my particles and sending a fresh spurt of fear through my body. They’d entered the graveyard . . . and in this form, I couldn’t use my weapons. I didn’t even have a vampire’s sharp claws to defend myself with. To use my weapons, I’d have to transform both them and my arms back to solidity, and a partial transformation wasn’t something I was particularly adept at.

I raced on, heading for Carleen, hoping against hope that the ghosts there would help me. Because if they didn’t . . .

I shoved the thought away. I could do this. I would do this. The lives of eight children lay on the line—or so Nuri believed. I very much doubted her statement—that if I didn’t find those children, no one would—had been just an attempt to bring me back into the fold. The desperation and fear in her eyes had been all too real.

Though I heard no sound of approach, claws slashed the trailing tendrils of my energy form. Particles spun away into the night, and pain ripped through the rest of me. Panic surged. I really was no safer in this form than the other. In fact, I was probably worse off because I couldn’t actually defend myself.

If I was destined to die this night, then, by Rhea, I would go down fighting in human form rather than in vampire.

I called to the darkness and reversed the process, becoming flesh from the head down. As my arms found form, I fired both guns over my shoulder, then to the left and the right. A high-pitched scream bit across the night and the rancid, metallic scent of blood washed through the air. I had no idea if I’d killed one of them or not, but at least I’d hit it. And if I could do that, I could kill them. Not that I was about to hang around and attempt it.

I raced on through the broken tombstones and shattered remnants of trees, my gaze on Carleen’s distant walls even as every other sense was trained on the night around me.

Air rushed past; a wraith, planning Rhea only knows what. I didn’t check my speed. Didn’t even fire. While my guns weren’t yet giving any indication that ammunition was running low, I couldn’t imagine it would be too far off. And while I was carrying extra ammo, I had neither the time nor the desire to reload. The minute I stopped, they would be on me—of that I was sure. The only other weapons I had were the machine rifles—which had already proven useless—and the two glass knives strapped to my wrists. They’d been built as a last resort, a weapon designed for hand-to-hand combat with a blade that was harder than steel. But there was no way I was about to get into a last-resort situation. Not when it came to wraiths, anyway.

Up ahead, air began to shimmer and spark. A heartbeat later, one of the wraiths appeared, blocking my path between two crumbling but still-ornate tombs. A thick, bloody wound stretched across its gut, and black blood oozed down its torso and legs. But if the wound was hampering it in any way, it wasn’t obvious. It flung its arms wide, its claws gleaming an alien, almost icy green. Sparks began to flicker between the razor-sharp tips, then spun off into the night. But they didn’t disappear. Instead, they began to cluster together, each tiny spark sending out tendrils to connect to another, and then another, until a rope began to form. A rope that glowed the same alien green as the creature’s claws and pulsated with an energy that made my skin crawl.

The wraiths weren’t trying to kill me—they were trying to capture me. I had no desire to know why, and certainly no intention of finding out. I swung left, attempting to outrun the still-forming rope. The wraith appeared in front of me again, the rope longer and beginning to curve toward me.

I switched direction, and again the same thing happened. I slid to a halt, raised the guns, and unleashed hell. The wraith’s body shook as the bullets tore through its flesh. Blood and gore splattered the ground a

ll around it, but it neither moved nor stopped creating that leash. The two ends of the rope were close to joining now, and I very much suspected I did not want that to happen.

One of the guns began to blink in warning. I cursed and ran straight at the wraith. Firing from a distance seemed to have little effect, so maybe getting closer would be better. I had nothing to lose by trying—nothing but my life, and that was already on the line.

The second gun began to blink, but I didn’t let up and I didn’t stop. The closer I got, the more damage the guns did, but the creature didn’t seem to care. Its body and face was a broken, bloodied mass, and still it stood there, resolutely creating its leash. Did these things feel no pain?

The first gun went silent. I cursed again and did the only thing I could—I launched feetfirst at the creature. I hit it so hard my feet actually went through the mess of its chest, but the sheer force of my momentum knocked it backward and the shimmering around its claws abruptly died as it hit the ground hard. I landed on top of it, caught my balance, and then fired every remaining bullet at its head.

This time, I killed it.

But I didn’t rejoice. Didn’t feel any sense of elation. As the second creature emitted a scream that was both fury and anguish, I tore the two spare clips free from their holders on my pants, reloaded the guns, and ran on.

The twisted, rusting metal fence that surrounded the graveyard came into view. I leapt over it, my gaze on Carleen’s broken walls. But the wind that battered my back was warning enough that the other wraith was not only on the move, but closing in fast. And I could taste its fury; this one had no intention of corralling me, even if that had been their orders.

I reached for everything I had left, but my legs refused to go any faster. My body was on fire and my strength seemed to be leaching away as fast as the blood pouring down my arm, back, and face. It was sheer determination keeping me on my feet now, nothing else.

And determination wasn’t going to get me much farther. It certainly wouldn’t take me to Carleen. The city was simply too far away.

Bear, I wish you could keep your promise to be with me when I die.

But even as that thought crossed my mind, I locked it down. Hard. I might want to die in the arms of my little ones—just as they’d died in mine—but I wasn’t about to place either Bear or Cat in the middle of a dangerous situation. There were vampires in this world who could feed off energy—even the ectoplasmic energy of ghosts—and there might well be Others capable of doing the same.

Something smashed into my back and sent me tumbling. I landed faceup, staring at the stars—stars that danced in crazy circles across the wide, dark sky. I could barely even breathe, the pain was so great, but I nevertheless felt the approach of the creature. It was in the air and coming straight at me.

And this time, it wasn’t invisible.

I raised the guns and fired. It wouldn’t stop the creature, I knew that, but I didn’t have the energy to get up and there was nothing else I could do.

Everything seemed to slip into slow motion. I watched the ripple of air as the bullets cut through it and the creature’s gleaming claws gained length and began to drip with sparks. Saw the creature’s flesh shudder and jerk in rhythmic harmony with the bullets that tore into its body. Saw the ever-growing glow of determination and fury in its golden eyes. I might not be able to speak its language, but there were some things that needed no words or explanations. It wanted revenge and it wanted my death, and it didn’t care if it had to die as long as it took me with it.

Tags: Keri Arthur Outcast Fantasy
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