Angels' Flight(36)

“Enough playing?” she asked the vampire who seemed to be the mouthpiece of the entire group.

The handsome man had already removed the bolt and now tossed it at her feet. “That was rather unladylike.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly gentlemanly in attacking me.” She could feel the edge of sunrise in the distance. Too bad the vamps wouldn’t crumble to dust at the first touch of the sun’s rays. Only in the movies were things so convenient. Some vampires did suffer from light sensitivity, but she bet every single one in this bunch was capable of walking around under noon-light itself.

“Ah,” the vampire said. “That is so. But you have a knight to protect you.”

“I don’t need a knight,” she said, knowing full well this was about more than physical strength alone. “I’m not a queen to hide behind my troops. I’m a general.”

The vampire’s expression grew strangely quiet. “Then I will stop being a gentleman.”

This time, she couldn’t reload fast enough. Dropping the crossbow, she started to fight with knives, nicking him in the throat, catching a second vampire with a kick to the gut. Behind her, Deacon was taking out vamps left, right, and center. But they were severely outnumbered. This was in no way a fair fight.

Whoever had orchestrated this wanted Sara to die. Why? She slashed a line across one vampire’s neck, and the blood that hit her was hot and fresh and nauseating. The vampire staggered back, hand clamped over his throat. She kept fighting, kicking and breaking knees. Something burned into her shoulder, and she stabbed a knife through the ear of the vamp who’d decided to turn her into a breakfast buffet.

Howling, the attacker fell away. Deacon growled then, and she’d never heard a more chilling sound. He took out three more coming at her, holding off two others on his own side as she grabbed the gun she’d tucked into her lower back. “Ready!” she yelled, and started firing to cover his reloading.

They were closer to the house. But not close enough. If Tim was in there, he was either injured, dead, or didn’t give a shit. Else he’d have been shooting as well. Which meant it was time for drastic measures. Simon had been very clear in his instructions.

“We walk a precarious line. The angels need us. But if we prove too powerful, they’ll cheerfully wipe us from existence. Hurt the vampires they send after you, but try not to kill. Because if you do, you become a threat, not an asset.”

Problem was, the vampires were healing from the nonfatal wounds only to continue their relentless—and openly deadly—assault. “Deacon?”

“Yes.” Agreement.

Even as her hand moved to retrieve the miniature flamethrower strapped to her thigh, a knife hit the vampire in front of her, severing his carotid artery. As he choked on his own blood and fell away from the attack, another knife lodged in the eye of the vampire she’d hit with her first bolt.

Neither knife was Sara’s.

Then the shooting started.

Knives from the left. Gunshots from the right.

And a clear pathway to the house. It had been the best choice at the start, a place from where they could make a stand. But now the odds had changed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Fight.”

Smiling, she palmed a second gun from a shoulder holster and began firing two-handed.

Five minutes later, they had their backs to the house and the vampires were bloody and broken; caught between their guns and whoever was throwing knives—and other things—from the vicinity of the fence.

The head vamp raised his hands, palms out. “I yield.”

There was a collective groan from the other vampires—all still alive—as they collapsed onto the ground. Sara couldn’t believe it. “You think I’m just going to let that go?”

The vamp smiled. “Politics is a most unkind mistress.”

“Should I expect any other visits from you?”

“No. The test has been passed.” He blinked, his injured eye healing at a phenomenal rate. “And the archangels have little interest in the inner workings of the Guild.”

“So the whole trying-to-kill-me thing? What was that?”

“It had to be done.” Shrugging, he turned to his troops. “It’s time to go.”

Another five minutes and there wasn’t a single vampire to be seen in the cool dawn light of a winter morning. Sara finally lowered her weapons and glanced at Deacon. He was bloody, his jacket torn in several places, but it was the look in his eyes that rocked her to the core. He was pissed. “Goddamn it, Sara. I don’t like you being hurt.” And then he kissed her.

It was hot and wild and amazing . . . until Lucy began howling. And someone coughed.

Sara tore away from the kiss, gun raised—to see a tall woman with long white blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, her eyes frankly curious and her body plastered with knives. “So,” Ellie said, with a huge smile, “you and the Slayer, huh? I like.” She looked Deacon up and down, and whistled. “Best Friend Seal of Approval bestowed. With gold foil edging, even.”

Grinning, Sara went to hug her. Elena shook her head. “I love you, Sara, but you’re all bloody with vampire.”

“Ugh.” Sara looked down at her soaked clothing. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

“Would you have done that?” Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Exactly.”