A Fall of Silver (33 page)

Raising the stick like a club, Ket
han bolted toward where he hoped Quicksilver stood.

“Watch out!” he called.
His gut liquefied. Was he too late?

A
slender, white silhouette darted ahead of him through the trees and then halted suddenly. Between the trees, Kethan could make out the thin, black silhouettes of several strangers.

With a
whip in each hand, she circled the vampires, lashing out toward one and then flicking the second whip behind her to prevent the undead from attacking her blind side. The vampires stayed well beyond the range of her whips.

“They’ve got
Father Donatello,” he called to her, stepping behind her back to face the void between two twisted maples where Jesus de Salvador had disappeared.

“Damn
! These aren’t Sutton’s clan,” she panted. “Die!” She screamed and charged a target Kethan hadn’t noticed.

Before the vampire co
uld react, she snapped the whip and ensnared his neck. With a vicious tug, the monofilament slid through his spine, severing muscle and bones as he fell toward her. She shoved her shoulder into his chest and pushed him away.

The
impact made the head fall to the left while the torso tumbled in the other direction. Before it hit the ground, the body dissolved into a cloud of searing ash. The crimson embers drifted around her, sticking to her damp clothing and skin and sizzling before winking out.

T
wo remaining vampires melted away between the trees before she brushed her forearm over her face. Lowering her arm, Quicksilver rotated her wrists, her face flushed with fury.

“They’re gone,” Kethan said, knowing
his words weren’t precisely true. The air around them still held the chill of the undead, but he had to stop the violence and get her away to safety. He feared that any damage they did to the vampires, no matter what clan, would be paid by Father Donatello. “We’ve got to leave.”

“I can feel them
, they’re still here.” She glanced around, distracted.

He
walked toward her, striving to project calm confidence. However, his back felt cold, as if evil incarnate watched him, waiting for an opening.

Grabbing her shoulder
, he pushed her ahead of him. When she dug her heels in, he leaned against her shoulder and whispered, “I feel them, too. But they’ve got Father Donatello. If you kill any more, he may die in retribution.”

“He’s already lost.”
She stared at him, her eyes flat and devoid of hope.

“Not yet.”

She looked away. “He’s gone.”

“No.”

“You and your second chances,” she replied sourly, letting him push her forward through the trees with only token resistance.

“Do you really want to give up?
Let them win?”

“No.”

“Then believe me. He’s alive. We can get him back if we’re smart.”

She sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

He nodded, praying for the same thing but fearing he might be wrong. They might have lost Father Donatello to the children of Hell, already.

Despite Kethan’s
assurances, Quicksilver’s stomach burned with an increasing sense of uncertainty, eroding her confidence. The undead followed them, keeping to the shadows among the trees. She caught another glimpse of a vampire and eased closer to Kethan, trying to control her racing thoughts. Each move, each decision they made might further endanger Father Donatello. He was too good, too kind, to do what she’d done to survive when she was imprisoned by vampires.

No
decent human being would do what she’d done. Father Donatello would die, instead.

She shivered, her body feeling too small
, too tight. Thinking of what might happen—what might be happening now—raised wave upon wave of panic. The acrid taste of failure choked her as she imagined the worst. Staring ahead, she bumped into Kethan once, twice, but she couldn’t force herself to increase the distance between them. The wide breadth of his shoulders and warmth steaming off his back reassured her.

When they go
t to the road, a roiling bank of fog obscured Kethan’s car. Her heart banged against her ribs in another burst of fear. She looked left and then right, waiting for someone—something—to attack from the obscuring veils of mist. Death encircled them.

She adjusted
her grip on the slick handles of her whips and flicked each hand, prepared. Ready for the worst, her body shook with a premonition of disaster.

“It’s a trap. I feel it.”
She stepped cautiously to the grassy verge lining the dark expanse of road. She glanced left and then right again. Nothing.

“
I don’t know,” Kethan said in a low voice. “Sutton left, so it’s not him. Just stay close.”

“You stay close
! I don’t trust any of them.” She could protect herself, but what about Kethan? A sense of despair filled her. What about Father Donatello?

Kethan
turned his head, but his distracted gaze flashed past her. “Did you recognize any of them? Were they from Mexico City?”

Leaves rustled on her right.

She whirled in that direction and sent the whip flashing into the darkness. A twig snapped. Someone stepped back quickly to avoid the thin, monofilament fall of her whip.

Running
toward the sound, she swirled both whips to clear the way. Twigs rained down over her head and shoulders. The coils cut through slender trees and brush, leaving a trail of debris around her.

No one could
get close to her or Kethan with the whips snapping through the air.

“Show yourself
!” she called, releasing the full power of her rage.
Give me the strength to destroy my fear!

“Quicksilver!
Come back!” Kethan ran after her, his dark silhouette fading in and out of the mist. “Wait!”

She ran faster
, her pulse singing. I can do this—I can save Father Donatello.

Catching up
, Kethan caught her wrist and pulled her back. His brows were drawn down and he didn’t look frightened, just irritated.

“Let go.” She shook him off.

“Stop,” he repeated. “You’re just going to make matters worse.”

The
cold knot forming at the base of her spine numbed her. The black tree trunks glittered damply as the mist behind them rolled along the dark surface of the parking lot and obscured the familiar, safe shape of the car.

“
We lost them.” She jerked around to face him. Her glance flashed over his shoulder. The air felt slightly warmer or else she’d just grown used to the penetrating chill.

Where
did they go? Are they watching us?

“We nee
d to leave,” Kethan said. “They’re playing games.”

“We need to kill them
—tonight! If you want to get Father Donatello back, it’s the only way.” She had to convince him. If he agreed and helped her, Father Donatello might have a chance.

More importantly,
if Kethan agreed, it meant what she’d done, killing vampires, wasn’t an unforgiveable crime. It meant he might forgive her and didn’t think she was completely psychotic.

“No
. That’s what they want.” Kethan took her arm and guided her toward the parking lot. “They want us to eliminate Sutton’s clan.”

“
So what? Sutton’s people killed Kathy and who knows how many others.”

“Think about it
. Why do another group of vampires a favor?”

“I
’m not doing anyone a favor! Vampires are pure evil, and we need to kill them, not bargain with them. You’re the one setting us up to be used.”
Why didn’t he understand?

“No one is going to be used—”

“What about Father Donatello? They’re using him right now—for a snack. I thought he was your friend.”

“He is
and I’m thinking about him right now. If you kill Sutton and his clan, those other vampires will take over this territory.”

“So you want to help Sutton? Hi
s clan is more important than Father Donatello?”

A whisper of sound rustled through the dead leaves
behind them. Her spine stiffened, expecting a savage attack.

Nerves humming with tension,
she spun, balancing on the ball of one foot. Her senses found nothing but twisting, dark shadows and then…something…a cold void in the mist. She snapped her wrist and sent a whip cracking to the right. The silver fall sliced off a scattering of small, leafless twigs from an overhanging branch and continued through the darkness in a smooth arc.

A startled, half-scream cut
through the shadows. The whip had met its mark. The crash of a body falling into the brittle detritus carpeting the forest floor broke the silence. She caught sight of a face, a dark-haired vampire with bronze skin and wide cheekbones. Fissure erupted, splitting the skin before red light flared through cracks. In seconds, the body sizzled away into a puff of gray ash.

“Stop!”
Kethan’s eyes were hard when he caught her wrist. “Please. You don’t even know who you’re killing.”

“I don’t care.”
He didn’t understand, and he would never forgive her.
Her shoulders slumped and she suddenly felt exhausted.

Ignoring her weapons, he
pulled her away from the trees. She stiffened in a panic, fearing her reflexes would jerk the whip in her hand and cut his unprotected skin.

“Come on.
We’re getting out of here,” he said.

“
If you want to leave, leave.” She yanked her arm out of his grip, her eyes scanning the woods. She’d never felt so desperately alone or so tired.

The coldness
within her intensified.

Don’t be a baby. You’ve been alone before
. Nothing had changed.

T
o her surprise, Kethan jerked her against him. He slid an arm around her waist and lifted her until her toes bounced on the uneven ground, forcing her to retreat.

She couldn’t get free.
“Let me go!”

“Q
uiet! Please. We’re leaving.”

“No.”
She flailed, kicking and struggling to watch over his shoulder. They weren’t safe. He was making it easy for them.

The still air around them felt suffocating.

With a grip binding her like a straight jacket, he forced his way through the tangled underbrush. She clutched at trees but the weak branches broke off in her hands. Somehow, he managed to avoid letting her get close enough to a limb thick enough to give her a handhold.

Slowly, she
realized the ridiculousness of her situation. Nothing had attacked them and the icy stillness of the undead was gone.

Oblivious,
Kethan dragged her to the edge of the road.

Only a darker layer of ground-hugging fog marked the black surface of the street
. Their car stood indistinct behind billows of gray. Kethan’s chest expanded and pressed against her back as he took a deep breath. His heart pounded against her, echoing the throb battering her own ribs.

He tensed
. His hold on her tightened before they crossed the road, the damp air muffling the sounds of their footsteps against the tarmac. As they neared the vehicle, Kethan slowed.

A light
laugh brushed over their shoulders.

Quicksilver’s
head snapped in that direction. She’d been wrong; they weren’t gone, just hiding at the edge of her senses. Jerking her wrist, she struggled to escape from Kethan. She had to protect them before it was too late.

When he didn’t release her, s
he kicked him in the shins and elbowed his side. His grip loosened just enough for her to twist free for one minute before his hand lashed out. His fingers fastened over her arm.

A cold wave seeped down her
back, freezing her muscles as she stared into Kethan’s face. He didn’t seem to understand the danger surrounding them.

Dead eyes follo
wed their movements, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. Vampires lingered in the woods, coming closer as Kethan dragged her to the car.

“Wait!” she said
, trying to figure out what to do, how to save both of them. When she moved, her knee banged against something, sending a zing of pain up her leg. The car! They’d reached the vehicle without realizing it. “Give me room to use my weapons.”

“
No.”

“Yes!” She flicked one wrist, letting the whip’s fall slither close to his foot.

“You want me to lock you in the trunk?”

“What trunk?” She
gestured with her elbow to the miniscule car.

His mouth twisted
, and he stalked around to the passenger’s side dragging her after him. He pulled open the door. “Get in.” Pressing his palm on top of her head, he tried to thrust her inside.