This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(70)

He gave a bark of laughter before another blow sent me flying into a tree before slumping to the ground. Now my entire front and back hurt. I was definitely getting riled, yet still nothing happened as far as Remnant activity. Either this wasn’t working or I had to get a whole lot madder, fast.

I shook myself off as I sprang up, watching Vlad approach with far more slowness than he’d use if we were sparring for real.

“That last one was better, but quit punching like a girl,” I said. “Take off the leash. Just don’t knock me into any of the headstones. This is a nice cemetery. Breaking them would be disrespectful.”

Vlad let out something that sounded like a sigh. “You asked for it.”

I fought my instinctive urge to defend myself when I saw his arm wind up. I didn’t even let myself brace, the thought flittering through my head that it was a damn good thing Bones couldn’t see the two of us right now, or he’d be furious.

Then all mental reflections cleared my head at the exact same instant that Vlad’s fist landed there. Stars exploded in my mind, followed by a flash of searing pain and blackness. When I could see again, I was vaguely amazed that little blue birdies doing a slow circle above me weren’t the first things that met my vision.

“Again,” I said, wondering if it was actually possible for me to throw up. From the throbbing in my head, it might be.

The next blow took me across the jaw. My teeth snapped together hard enough that I was surprised I wasn’t chewing them. Blood dripped from my mouth. Vlad saw it, gave a slight, dismissive shrug that made me want to thump him, and raised his fist for another strike.

It never landed. I felt like ice flashed through my veins even as a shield of transparent bodies formed over me, deflecting Vlad’s blow as if they were made of solid diamond instead of only vaporous air. He stared at them with grim triumph as that shield of Remnants grew into a wall—and then fell on top of him.

“Good, it worked,” Vlad gritted out even as his whole body was smothered by them. “Magnificent weapon. This hurts . . . absolutely everywhere.”

Voices echoed all around me, some as low as growls and others in pitches so high they sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Vlad was right; it obviously worked. Now came the really hard part. I’d raised them, but I had to get them off him. It was hard to concentrate with them bombarding my mind with more voices than I could ever count. If I had any hope at controlling them, I needed to use the same techniques I’d developed while learning to keep humans’ thoughts from overwhelming me. Focus on one voice. Tune into it. Make everything else fade into the background.

“Vlad, talk,” I urged him. It was better to stay focused on his voice instead of getting lost in the myriad whispers of the grave. I scrambled to my feet, only then realizing that I’d been on the ground with his last blow.

“Rather busy . . . at the moment,” I heard amidst the whirl of other sounds.

“I need your voice,” I insisted, shivering convulsively. I was so cold. So tired. So hungry.

Vlad began to sing, words hoarse from his obvious pain. It took me several moments to feel in control of myself enough to focus on him alone—and to be amazed that Vlad knew the lyrics to “Run This Town.” I shook that off as I stared at him. His entire body was covered in Remnants, and I tried to ignore the tie I felt to them. The icy, ravenous hunger that threatened to blind me to everything else.

“Get off him,” I said to the sinuous, writhing forms.

Nothing happened. Not one of them even paused in their assault on him to look at me.

“Get off him,” I repeated, putting all my fear at what would happen if they didn’t into my voice.

Still the Remnants slithered over Vlad, coiling on and through him. His body arched in a way that was all too familiar, telling of his agony even if he wouldn’t let himself scream. Flames broke out across his hands, but the Remnants didn’t move to avoid them, nor did the fire seem to do them any damage when they slithered over them. Why would they? my mind supplied in rising fear. Remnants were made of energy and air. Two things that had never been harmed by fire before.

“Go back to your graves right now,” I tried again, this time desperation edging my tone. Still, they didn’t even slow in their movements, or seem to hear me at all. I’d pulled them from the other side, but just as I feared, I now had no control over them. My worst-case scenario was playing out right in front of me as I saw Vlad twist in a futile effort to get away from the Remnants that just kept right on devouring him, growing stronger from his pain and energy while he grew weaker.

Then an idea seized me as I watched the flames on his hands. They did nothing to harm the Remnants, but they would sure as hell hurt me.

“Vlad, hit me with a fireball,” I breathed. “Passing out last time was what severed my connection with the Remnants, I think.”

It was worth a shot. If I was no longer connected to them, maybe they’d automatically go back to where they came from. I had to try something new. My commands were useless and Vlad couldn’t last much longer like this.

“No.” The single word was filled with pain, but no less emphatic. “You’ll learn . . . to control them . . . if it kills me.”

“It will kill you, dammit,” I snapped in growing panic.

“Less bitching . . . more learning,” Vlad grated. Then he closed his eyes, as if dismissing me. “I know, I’m delicious. Nummy . . . nummy,” he muttered to the Remnants feasting on him. Fire continued to drip from his hands, but he didn’t send any of those flames my way. Terror and anger rose in me at the sight of the Remnants moving even faster through his body. They were growing stronger, gaining the energy they’d need to kill him, and he was letting them.