City of Light (Outcast 1)

I couldn’

t escape them—not in this form. Maybe it was time to try another—

Even as the thought entered my mind, something cannoned into my side and sent me tumbling. I hit the ground with a grunt but kept on rolling, desperate to avoid the attack I could feel coming.

I crunched into a large rock and stopped. The air practically screamed with the force of the creature’s approach; I raised the guns once more and ripped off several shots. Then I scrambled upright, only to be sent flying again. This time I hit face-first and skinned my nose and chin as I slid several feet back down the hill.

I had no time to recover. No time to even think. The creature’s weight landed in the middle of my back, and for too many seconds I couldn’t even breathe, let alone react. Its claws tore at my flesh, splitting the skin along my shoulder and sending bits of flesh splattering across the nearby rocks. It was still playing with me, because those claws could have—should have—severed my spine.

But the blood gushing down my arms and back was warning enough that if I didn’t move—didn’t get up and get away from this creature—I’d be as dead as any of those who watched from the safety of their tombstones.

And there was only one way I had any hope of escaping—I had to call forth the vampire within me.

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 up toward the graveyard once again. But I wasn’t out of danger yet. I may 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 could see 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 pigeonholing 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. The wraiths had 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 were on the line—or so Nuri believed. I very much doubted that her statement—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 in 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 as a 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 my left and right. A high-pitched scream bit across the night and the rancid, metallic scent of blood washed through the air. I had no idea whether I’d killed one of them, but at least I’d hit one. 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 this could be too far off. And although I was carrying extra ammo, I didn’t have time 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 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 and 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 idea 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 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 spattered the ground all 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 guns began to blink in warning. I cursed and ran straight at the wraith. Given firing from a distance seemed to have no effect, maybe getting closer would. 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 were a broken, bloodied mass, and still it stood there, resolutely creating its leash. Did these things not feel 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 that 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 died abruptly 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’d 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 free the two spare clips 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 order.

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 arms, 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 wasn’t going to get me to Carleen. It was simply too far away.