The Strain (The Strain Trilogy 1)

Daylight knifed into the foyer.

At that moment of breaking glass, Eph and Fet returned to find Setrakian standing with his sword raised, his body bathed in sunlight.

The old man saw the dark blur rising up the stairs. "There he is!" he yelled, starting after him. "Now!"

Eph and Fet charged up the steps after the old man. Two other vampires met them at the top of the stairs. Bolivar's former security detail, his Big-and-Tall-Store bodyguards now hungry-faced hulks in dirty suits. One swatted at Eph, who stumbled backward and almost lost his balance, grabbing the wall to keep himself from tumbling down the marble stairs. He stuck out his Luma light and the big dummy recoiled and Eph chopped at his thigh with the sword. The vampire let out a gasp and swung at him again. Eph gutted him, running his sword most of the way through his belly before pulling it back, the vampire sinking to the landing like a stuck balloon.

Fet held his at bay with his lamp light, sticking and cutting at the bodyguard's grabbing hands with his short-bladed dagger. He brought the light up, right into its face, and the vampire flailed and looked around wildly, temporarily blinded. Fet ducked him and got behind his back, stabbing the bodyguard in the back of its thick neck before shoving him hard down the stairs.

Eph's vampire tried to rise, but Fet dropped him again with a kick to the ribs. The bodyguard's head lay off the top step, and with a cry of anguish, Eph brought his sword down.

The head bumped down the stairs, gaining speed and rotation at the bottom, hopping the other vampire's body and rolling all the way to the wall.

White blood oozed out of its opened neck, onto the carmine runner. The blood worms emerged, Fet frying them with his lamp.

The bodyguard at the bottom of the steps was no more than a skin sack of broken bones, but he was still animate. The fall had not severed his neck, and so had not released him. His eyes were open and he stared dumbly up the long staircase, trying to move.

Eph and Fet found Setrakian near the closed elevator grate with his sword out, taking a swipe at a dark, fast-moving blur. "Watch out-!" called Setrakian, but before the words were out of his mouth, the Master struck Fet from behind. He went down hard, nearly smashing his lamp. Eph barely had time to react before the form flew past him-slowing down just long enough for Eph to see the Master's face again, his wormy flesh and sneering mouth-and he was thrown back against the wall.

Setrakian lunged forward, sweeping his sword two-handedly, driving the fast-moving form into a wide, high-ceilinged, floor-through room. Eph got himself up and followed, as did Fet, a lick of blood dribbling down his temple.

The Master stopped, appearing to them before the massive stone fireplace at the midpoint of the room. The town house had windows only at either long end-leaving no sunlight in the middle to assist them. The Master's cloak rippled and settled and his horrible eyes looked down on them all, but mainly Fet, no small man himself. The blood trickling down his face. With something like a howling grin, the long-armed Master grabbed up lumber and bales of electrical wire and any other debris within reach and hurled them at the three assassins.

Setrakian flattened against the wall, Eph taking cover around the corner, Fet using a chunk of wallboard as a shield.

When the assault ended and they looked up, the Master was gone again.

"Christ!" hissed Fet. He swiped the blood off his face with his hand, then tossed aside the wallboard. He threw his silver dagger into the cold fireplace with a clank and a thud-useless against this giant-and took Eph's lamp from him, giving Fet two, freeing Eph up to wield his longer blade with both hands.

"Stay after him," said Setrakian, pushing ahead. "Like smoke rising up a chimney, we must force him to the roof."

As they rounded the corner, four more hissing vampires came at them. They looked like former fans of Bolivar's with their razored hair and piercings.

Fet went after them with the twin lamps, pushing them back. One got through, and Eph played backup, showing her his silver sword. This one looked like a chubby Vampira in a denim skirt and torn fishnet stockings. She had that curious rapacity of the newly turned vampire that Eph had come to recognize. Eph aimed his sword at her from a crouch, the vampire feinting right, then left, hissing at him through white lips.

Eph heard Setrakian yell, "Strigoi!" in that commanding voice of his. The chopping sound of the old man cutting down vampires emboldened Eph. The chubby Vampira feinted too aggressively and Eph jabbed her, his sword tip slicing into the front shoulder of her torn black cotton top, burning the beast within. Her mouth opened and her tongue curled up, and Eph darted back barely in time, her stinger just missing his neck. She continued at him, mouth agape, and with a howl of anger, Eph ran his sword at her face. Straight at her stinger, the blade slicing right through the back of her head, the tip burying a few inches in the unfinished wall.

The vampire's eyes bugged. Her stinger was cut and leaking white blood, filling her mouth and spilling down her chin, which she could not move. She was pinned to the wall. She bucked and attempted to cough her wormy blood onto Eph. A virus will propagate itself any way it can.

Setrakian had slain the other three vampires, leaving the newly polished maple flooring at the end of the hall slathered in white. He returned to Eph, yelling, "Back!"

Eph released his sword, the grip quivering out of the wall. Setrakian swung at the vampire's neck, and gravity pulled the headless body to the floor.

The head remained speared to the wall, white blood spilling from its severed neck, the vampire's black eyes flaring wide at both men...then rolling upward and relaxing, holding still. Eph grasped the handle of his sword and plucked it from the wall behind her mouth, and her head dropped on top of her body.

There was no time to irradiate the white blood. "Up, up!" said Setrakian, walking along the wall to a different set of stairs, these circular with an ornate iron railing. The old man's spirit was strong, but his strength was flagging. Eph passed him at the top. He looked right and left. In the dim light, he saw finished hardwood floors and unfinished walls. But no vampires.

"We split up," said the old man.

"Are you kidding?" said Fet, grabbing hold of him and helping him to the top. "Never split up. That's the first rule."

One of his lamps fizzled. The bulb popped as the unit overheated, and suddenly burst into flames. Fet dropped it, crushing the flames underneath his boot. Now he was down to one lamp.

"How much more battery time?" Eph asked.

"Not enough," said the old man. "He will wear us down like this, having us chase him until nightfall."