Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

They fell upon her, one at each side, tearing their fangs into her white flesh, one at the side of her neck, one at the juncture where neck met shoulder. The woman screamed, kicked, bucked…but a third vampire came from behind and pulled her arms back, holding her steady while his companions fed.

Victoria watched in abject horror, her mouth drying and her heart pounding. This was so different from the scenes before. The unwilling victim at the mercy of the two vampires who ravaged her throat and shoulders. They were made crazed by their need to feed, by the smell of blood, and by the agony of having watched sixteen others being fed upon.

But what could she do? One against dozens of men…against six vampires. Her mind was still foggy; her limbs didn’t want to move. The instant she was discovered to be a Venator, she would be killed before she could take her next breath.

She looked back up at the stage and saw that the woman’s bodice had been torn away and one white breast, streaked with blood, bounced and swayed as she twisted and fought. These vampires did not bite delicately; they were starved, so they gouged and tore and destroyed. The woman’s moans were choked, her cries fading. The stench of blood filled the air, just as the chanting continued.

And then Victoria noticed another woman was on the other end of the stage. Two more vampires were sharing her, but she did not fight with the same vehemence as the other. Her flesh was torn, and blood streamed from her neck and bosom while she cried—

Suddenly Victoria felt a great, hard jerk on her own arm.

She pulled away from Alvisi—whose face had become determined and fanatic—and whirled from his grip, but she slammed into another man, who shoved her forward. Victoria sidestepped him, swinging out with her fists, but she faced another one. Everywhere she turned, another man stood, blocking her, shoving her forward toward the stage.

The chanting continued as Victoria was spun around, trying to fight her way through the wall of men, but there were too many. She was pushed and prodded, pulled and tripped. She kicked and fought, her head swam, the sweet smell built back in her nose again. She could not touch her vis bulla;

she could not stand straight; she could not see where she was. She couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly hands, many hands, grabbed her—too many to fight off. She felt herself being lifted, and the roaring fire to her left tipped in front of her, then around to her other side as she kicked and bit and bucked. Then she felt herself launched through the air, and landed on her hip and shoulder on something hard, her cheek smashing onto the floor. The smell of fresh blood filled her nose.

The sea of chanting, bright-eyed faces was at her eye level for only a moment before she was dragged to her feet. Victoria had an instant to grope for her vis before she swung out at the vampires who came at her. She kicked and dodged and punched, had the satisfaction of meeting one of them in the face, and was reaching back to yank a stake from her hair when her arms were grabbed and pulled down to her sides. Dimly aware that it had taken two vampires, one at each arm, to do so, she ducked and tried to twist free.

The grip was too strong; she couldn’t break it. She couldn’t get to her stakes, her holy water, her cross…Hands were on her everywhere, pulling at her dress, her arms, her legs, her breasts. She felt her head being jerked to one side by the hair, felt her coiffure loosen and her neck bare to the sweet-smelling room. The dull, pasty smell of blood on the breath of the vampire nearest her filled her nose, pushing away even the hypnotic scent of the incense.

When his teeth sank into her neck, it was almost a relief.

+ 11 +

Two Fortuitous Doors

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Teeth sank into her once, twice, three times. Victoria felt the warm ooze of blood seeping along the crease of her neck, trickling into the cleft between her breasts, and the soft lull of relief…the easy haze that tempted her to let go.

Yet she couldn’t stop fighting. Her body dipped and tilted as they pawed at her, nibbled on her. She felt something heavy shift and slide from beneath her bodice, and then fall free with a gentle weight tugging at the back of her neck.

There were cries of surprise and fear, and the hands clawing her fell away…she felt herself falling, tumbling, and then smacked onto the ground again.

Her cross thudded against her chest, and she reached for it automatically, her ears filled with shouts and cries, and held it up like a small shield as her other hand slammed palm-first onto the wooden stage.

Though its sudden appearance had surprised them, the holy object wouldn’t keep them back for long. Nor would it prevent a mortal from tearing it out of her hands and returning her to the hungry vampires.

Victoria’s fingers scrabbled at the floor, trying to find purchase so she could haul herself upright, and they felt something other than polished wood. Metal. Set into the floor.

The haziness still gripped her mind, but since the vampires had stopped feeding on her, she was more in control, and some of her strength and clarity were coming back. She had the presence of mind to close her fingers around the metal object, and through the dizziness recognized it as hinges. In the floor.

Where there were hinges, there was—please God—a door.

Hands were grabbing at her once more, pulling her fingers away from the cross so they could tear it from her throat and give her back to the vampires. Victoria twisted, bucking away from the puny strength of the mortal man—Zinnani—who had taken the place of the Immortals and bent over her.

She stopped fighting his hands and kept twisting until she was on her face toward the ground, putting what was above and behind her out of her mind as she felt around, trying to find a door handle. Where did the door open? She felt someone—or something—pulling at the chain around her neck, and she kicked out and back, her foot connecting with something quite soft and squishy, and she had enough presence of mind to hope it was some man’s private parts. Zinnani’s, if she were lucky.

She was on the door; now that the shadows above and behind her shifted away, she could see its faint outline in the floor and realized her weight kept it from opening. If it were old and stuck or locked, or was not a door after all, she would have no other chance. But…

Her fingers found what they sought at her waist, and she tensed herself up, ready.

She felt the chain of her crucifix snap, scoring into her throat in that last instant before it fell away, and the roar of delight as the air surged above her with the vampires swooping back down for the kill.

Victoria was ready for them, and she rolled away, off the door, knocking into the feet of the vampires as she splashed the vial of salted holy water at them. They screamed and fell away, and she yanked on the handle in the floor.