This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(71)

“You’re going to die if you don’t flame me out of commission! Think of your people!” I yelled, growing desperate as nothing I did, even pulling on the Remnants with my hands, seemed to make them leave Vlad alone.

At that, his eyes snapped open, emerald green and sizzling with both agony and resolve. “I am . . . so learn,” he rasped.

I let out a scream of pure frustration. Nothing I said would convince Vlad to harm me. Not if he thought he was protecting his people by sacrificing himself.

Fine. If Vlad wouldn’t deliver the blow that would take me out of commission, I’d do it myself.

I curled my fist and rammed it as hard as I could into the side of my head. Grass met my vision as I knocked myself over, but one glance at Vlad revealed the Remnants still hadn’t budged from him. Son of a bitch. I needed something harder than my hands.

A wide headstone caught my eye, an angel carved into the surface. I sent a mental apology to whoever’s grave it covered even as I also cast a fast prayer upward to please let this work.

Then I ran toward the tombstone as fast as I could, my body bent, leading with my head like it was a red flag and I was a bull.

Pain exploded in my mind. That wasn’t the only thing that shattered, judging from the shards of granite I saw when my eyes opened. I’d plowed right through the grave marker to land in the grass beyond. I shook my head to clear it, feeling blood running in a few thin lines down from my crown, and swung around to look for Vlad again.

A sharp cry of relief escaped me when I saw all the Remnants had picked their heads up from him. They were looking at me, their deadly assault on him suspended. Vlad began to back away and they didn’t move to jump on him again, but kept staring at me in frozen expectation. For a stunned moment, I wasn’t sure what had done the trick. It wasn’t passing out; they were all still here. Was destroying a tombstone with my head somehow the magic word to them? But then, as I felt those wet trails edging further down my face, it hit me.

Blood. That was their remote control. The Remnants had only appeared after Vlad bloodied my lip, just like they’d only appeared after Marie sliced her wrist with that little mini dagger in her ring. She must have cut herself with it again to draw them off when I wasn’t looking. That would have been easy; I’d been staring in horror at Bones more than focusing on her. The fresh blood from my head was enough to get them to stop chewing on Vlad, but it would soon heal like my lip had. I couldn’t let them turn on Vlad again. He couldn’t take much more.

I didn’t bother taking the time to pull out one of my knives, but slammed my hand onto the jagged, sharp remains of the headstone, inflicting another deep laceration.

“All right, you deadly little ghostlings,” I muttered. “Mama says go back to bed!”





Chapter Twenty--nine

I shut the car door, leaning against it for a second, thinking that if life were fair, I could go upstairs and take the longest, hottest shower on record to help chase away the chill that still permeated every cell of me. Instead, we were back at the town house just so I could quickly change clothes. Couldn’t quite pull off my happy bar hopper disguise if I went out covered in my own blood.

“You two are back early,” a dry voice stated.

I glanced up to see Mencheres framed in the doorway of the town house. Vlad got out, shut his door a little harder than was necessary, and threw the Egyptian vampire a jaded look.

“Car trouble,” he said, in a voice that dared Mencheres to inquire further.

“You’re back a bit early yourself. Did you find anything interesting?” I asked, trying to divert his attention from the obvious fact that I was splattered in blood while the car looked and sounded fine.

“Nothing Dave had not already confirmed,” Mencheres replied, with a slight shrug.

I didn’t sigh, but I felt like it. Guess it was too much to hope that Apollyon’s address would be spray painted graffiti-style on one of the walls as an appeasement gesture from Fate after the night we had—and it was still early, by vampire standards.

“Don’t be disappointed, Cat. I didn’t expect to find anything. That’s not why I went,” Mencheres said, opening the front door for us.

My brows rose, but I went inside, figuring this conversation was best held somewhere other than on the small lawn. Vlad glanced at Mencheres with equal curiosity but also followed me inside. Once the door was shut, I gave a longing glance at the couch but stayed standing.

“Are you going to tell us why you went, then?” I asked.

“Because even if I didn’t expect to find anything new, it would be foolish not to make certain,” Mencheres said. He leaned against the door frame, the picture of nonchalance. “Besides, if I hadn’t left, then you wouldn’t have attempted to exercise your new powers, would you?” he added.

“You knew?” I blurted, not sure which stunned me more; the fact that Mencheres was obviously aware that I had the ability, or that he’d let me try using it without telling Bones on me. “Did you, um, know because you saw it?” It would be great if his visions were back up to full strength again . . .

The look Mencheres gave me—and Vlad, too, I noticed—was pointed. “No. But I, too, heard you this morning, so I didn’t need a vision to predict what Vlad would do if the two of you were left alone long enough. People’s natures can be far more telling than even visions at times.”