Madhouse (Cal Leandros, #3)(40)

But she'd once given me the hint that that wasn't the truth, not her truth anyway. She hadn't gone into any detail, but I got the impression Promise had been born to dirt and hardship rather than silk and satin. Not all vampires had lived in a castle with bug-munching flunkies to wait on them hand and foot. I didn't know Promise's age, but it was possible she was old enough to have been born into some pretty rough times in history…for vampire or human. It would explain all the rich husbands with fastly approaching expiration dates she'd had. Our bodies might escape the conditions that made us, but our minds rarely do.

Whatever her origins, she moved through the tunnel as if it were an aisle in Sak's—boldly and comfortably. I followed and Niko pulled up the rear. Every fifteen minutes or so, Nik and I would switch off, but we kept Promise, her flashlight now turned off, in the lead. Vampire night vision was better than both of ours put together. When the revenants came, she spotted them several seconds before we did and raised a hand to halt us in our tracks.

To look at, they weren't so different from the body parts that had been carried our way—decomposing and hideous to behold. Nature's imitation of a corpse—slick putrid-appearing flesh, white-filmed eyes, and yellowed, rotting teeth framed by bloodless gums and a dead black tongue. Some of them wore filthy clothing; some of them wore nothing at all. An anatomically correct revenant is nothing to write home about…literally. With all their smooth mottled flesh, I had no idea how to tell the difference between male and female. But knowing how to kill them was info enough.

It wasn't too difficult…killing them. Although, if you just chopped a piece off, it would grow back— given enough time. Simple minds, simple nervous systems, Niko had explained disparagingly. Upright salamanders with an attitude, that's what I said. Bottom line, not that hard to kill, but if you didn't finish the job, a revenge-seeking revenant would show up a few months later sporting new limbs and a hard-on for a little mutilation of his own. The motto is "Make sure the imitation dead are the genuine dead."

So, when the first revenant appeared into the weak orange light ahead of us, I wasn't worried. When the next five showed themselves, I only pulled my Glock. I wasn't wasting the .50 and expensive rounds on these guys. But when the following sixteen slunk into sight, I did spend the time to be grateful that I didn't see Sawney with them. A revenant was a walk in the park, a couple of revenants…cake, but twenty-two? I'd been accused of being a little cocky, but I wasn't stupid. Certainly not that stupid. Twenty-two was going to be a workout, no way around it. Because revenants, when they wanted to be, were fast. They weren't the cheetahs of the preternatural world, but they were the hyenas. Their asses could move.

Niko, always up for a little aerobic exercise, had left the cello case behind at a junction of several tunnels and now hefted his axe. "How unfortunate for them that they can't regrow their head." Which was the place to aim on a revenant. If they had a heart, I had no idea where it was. Their circulatory system was a lot more primitive than a human's. Whatever pumped their vital fluids didn't seem to be centralized, and taking out the brain, à la every zombie movie ever made, was your best bet.

They were unusually quiet as they came. Revenants weren't the biggest talkers around, but they weren't above the occasional dinner conversation…of the usual "I'll rip you to shreds and enjoy every mouthful" type. Not these, though…they were silent and completely on-task. Sawney appeared to be a monster who valued discipline in his clan. There was no speaking, only determined white eyes, and a random jagged laugh here and there.

Which was disturbing in its own right. Because that laugh…that crazy, nerve jangling, completely over-the-edge-and-dogpaddling-in-the-pit-of-insanity cackle…was pure Sawney Beane. "Sound familiar?" I murmured to Nik.

"Yes," he answered flatly. "Yes, it does."

That's when they spoke. Every last one of them…simultaneously.

"Travelers."

Okay, that was creepy. I'd seen a lot of shit in my day, but that was definitely pretty damn freaky, but worse? It was Sawney's voice…almost. Not exactly, but like a distorted echo of it.

I shot the lead one in the head and heard another echo—this time in my mind. He'd said I tasted like insanity. And I wasn't. I wasn't like that. Wasn't like him or the Auphe. I gave a silent snarl and fired again, the flashlight in my other hand. After that they were on us and the gun was no longer the best option. They were too close, moist skin against my clothes. Niko was swinging his axe with devastating effect and Promise had a sword—silver, slender, and deadly. The one I drew was more along the lines of a Roman short sword. Long enough to take off a head, short enough for close quarters. Ugly, but functional…much like the revenants themselves.

I pushed hard at the one on me, shoving it away before slicing open its gut. That didn't kill it, but the wound distracted it long enough to let me whirl and take the head off the one coming from my other side. Partially anyway. Another two chops and then I flipped the first one over my shoulder. I could feel the drench of whatever fluid escaping his sliced guts hit my back. It was hot, slick, and that was more than I ever wanted to know about the internal juices of a revenant.

From the corner of my eye I saw Promise take the head of one revenant with her sword while tossing another of the creatures fifteen feet straight up to smash against the ceiling of the tunnel. A third hit her as she handled the first two and took her down to disappear under the water. I only had time to take one step toward her before she surfaced…alone. Three for her, three for me, at least six for Nik, which left only ten.