Poison City (42 page)

I pull out my wand, draw in the aether presence and let loose with the anti-light I used against the Matchstick Man and his cronies. Speaking of which, I can actually see a few Smilers in the crowd, hissing and spitting as they come for us. I turn to them and release the black lightning. Purple after-images flash in my eyes as it vaults through the air and wraps around them. They drop, screaming, writhing on the ground. I pump more energy into the wand and the lighting branches out, hopping from Smiler to vampire, spreading through their ranks.

I whirl around, trying to find the others. Allison is fighting with a staff that turns everything it touches to dust. My tattoos are snapping and lunging in every direction. I think they’re growing bigger. Armitage has stashed her wand and is now dual-firing her semi-automatics into the throats of any vampires that reach for her.

Russells goes down, the sheer number of attackers forcing him to his knees. I shove my way through the vampires, fighting the pull of the dragons. I yank back the head of a Smiler as it’s about to rip out his throat. I jam my wand into its head and unleash the anti-light. The vampire basically explodes in my hands, coming apart in a mess of stringy meat and gristle.

I help Russells to his feet and he nods his thanks and scoops up his sword. It ignites as soon as he touches it and he swings it to the side, cutting a vamp’s head off.

There’s a new sound coming from behind us. Some of the vampires are turning around, trying to see what it is.

A row of powerful flashlights burst to life. Automatic gunfire rattles through the air.

And I see Dillon, the SSA guy that Ranson said killed Becca.

He’s accompanied by about twenty-five SSA operatives. All of them wearing black tactical gear. They move into the fight calmly and cleanly, cleaving through the vampires.

I don’t think. I run straight into the vampires. They reach out for me, trying to pull me down. I shrug them off, firing black lightning all around me. I force the dragons down to stomach height. They fight me all the way, but I don’t give up. I pull them down low and use them like a long, double-bladed staff, letting them clear the way to either side, cutting a screaming swathe through the hordes of vampires.

All I’m focused on is Dillon. I catch glimpses of him through gaps in the fighting. He’s shouting orders, pointing in our direction, trying to get his men to focus on us. He obviously has his final orders. Wipe out Delphic Division.

He sees me coming, turns, brings his weapon up. Fires. I yank a vampire in front of me. Use him as a shield as I push forward. Bullets thud into the creature. It screams and jerks. Cold blood spatters my face. I duck down, trying to make myself as small a target as possible. Then I throw the vampire forward. It stumbles into Dillon. He jerks aside, his gun shifting direction.

That’s all I need.

I pull the knife out of my belt and ram it into his throat.

He stiffens, eyes widening in shock. He reaches out, fingers scrabbling for my face.

I yank the knife out. A fountain of blood gushes from the side of his neck.

He falls to his knees.

Then the vampires are on him, driving him to the dirt.

I watch him get torn apart, the vampires shredding his body, tearing limbs apart.

Someone grabs my shoulder. I whirl around, wand ready. Only to find Parker standing there reloading her shotgun.

‘You know what’s going on here, right?’

I nod.

‘Can you stop it?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe’s not good enough!’

She pushes something against my chest. I look down and see she’s holding a satchel of hand grenades.

‘What about now?’

I grin. ‘That might help.’

‘You and Armitage go. Finish it. We’ll hold them off.’

I hesitate, look back to the battle. Bright flares of light, high-pitched, animalistic screams of pain. Fire and blade. Magic burning the air. The sharp taste of ozone. The loud crack of gunfire as the SSA do their best to stay alive.

‘Go!’

I slip the satchel over my shoulder and move off, grabbing Armitage as I go, backing up towards the storm drain. I try to find the dog, see him tearing through the vampires. Except, he doesn’t look like a dog anymore. He’s grown in size. Looks more like a demon on four legs.

-Dog. We’re going in. Stay here and . . . do what you’re doing.-

-Fine. But you owe me a shit-load of sherry after this.-

-Dog,if we get out of this in one piece I’ll fill the house with sherry. You can bathe in it if you want.-

-The fuck would I want to do that for? Waste of good booze.-

I fire off more of the anti-light at a group of vampires lurking by the dark entrance to the drains. They hiss, drop to the ground, and the tattoos rip them apart.

Then we step beneath the culvert.

Chapter 22

We sprint through the drains, but I haven’t gone five steps before I’m yanked suddenly off my feet.

I land on my back in the water, twist around and look over my shoulder.

The dragons. They don’t want to leave the battle.

They strain against me, hissing and spitting. They pull me back through the water, my fingers scrabbling against the concrete. Armitage sees what’s happening and retraces her steps towards me.

‘No! Stay back!’

The green dragon lunges at her. She jerks out of the way just in time.

I close my eyes, summon up all my strength, and shout out the words of rest.

The dragons screech in protest. They stop pulling, lunge at me instead. Neon green and blazing red mouths trying to tear off my head. But they can’t do any damage that way.

I shout the words again. Pushing all my force, summoning up as much surrounding aether energy as I can and pumping it into the words.

The dragons screech and writhe around as if in pain.

But they’re still not going anywhere.

I can’t do it. They’re too strong.

I slide back another few feet. Then I feel a sudden surge of power. My eyes snap open and see Armitage holding her hands out to me. It takes me a moment to realise she’s pushing energy into me.

I pull the power into my being and scream the words again.

This time the dragons obey. They wind slowly back, still struggling, still screeching, and I finally force them back into place. They feel like sandpaper against my skin. I feel like they’re trying to pull me with them, to draw me back into the Nightside where they’ll tear me apart in revenge for trapping them.

The red and green light winks out. The screeching stops.

I throw up. My stomach heaves, emptying its contents into the storm water. I collapse, roll onto my back, taking in deep, shuddering breaths.

Armitage appears above me.

‘You OK?’

‘Not really.’

She holds a hand out and helps me up. I stagger, put a hand out to support myself against the curved wall.

‘You up for this?’

I hesitate. No, I want to say. I’m not.

But I can’t. We have to do this.

‘Give me a minute.’

We wait while I take deep, steadying breaths. I shake my head, trying to banish the floating white spots.

‘We need to go,’ says Armitage impatiently.

I reluctantly nod and we head off, slowly at first, then picking up speed as the nausea recedes.

If I survive this I’m going to be out of action for a week.

Our footsteps echo as we sprint through the huge storm drains. We’re using our cell phones as torches, the anaemic light picking out the graffiti on the rounded walls, the dirty, rancid water that comes up to our shins.

‘Did you call in the reinforcements?’ I ask as we pause at a junction.

‘Of course I did. You think I want to get killed because of your stupidity?’

Fair enough. I look left, then right. Both directions look identical. But there’s something to the left, a sense of . . . heaviness. I can feel something down there.

We both turn down the tunnel at the same time and keep running.

‘How long are these tunnels?’ I ask after a few minutes.

‘At least six kays. Whoonga dealers use them to hide from the cops.’

We keep going. After another hundred metres or so I trip over something, almost fall flat on my face. I point my phone downwards. ‘Think I might have found one of the dealers.’

Armitage pauses and retraces her steps. The light from her phone joins mine, picking out a young guy submerged in the murky water. His throat has been ripped out.

We pick up the pace, following the sense of . . . otherness that permeates the tunnels. The water gets deeper, coming up to our knees. The air is heavy, dank. We’re both breathing through our mouths, trying to block out the stench of garbage and stagnant water.

-Dog? How’s it going?-

Silence. Then: -
Not too great, if I’m honest. Lisa’s dead. So is Russells.-

Fuck.

‘Armitage, we need to move. They’re losing up there.’

We run faster, following our senses down side passages, up slime-covered ladders, along more of the wide drains. I begin to wonder if we’re going round in circles, if we’ve been tricked into a wild goose chase.

Then Kincaid swings down from the shadows above us, grabs Armitage by the head, and flings her hard against the wall.

‘No!’

I try to move towards Armitage but Kincaid drops, flips over in mid-air, and lands in the water with a heavy splash.

‘My friend,’ he says regretfully. ‘I truly wish you had not come here.’

‘Believe me, I’m feeling the same way.’ I try to see past him, but he’s massive. He completely blocks my view of Armitage.

‘Let me past, Kincaid. We need to stop her.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘I’m not asking. I’m giving you the chance to step aside. For old time’s sake.’

Kincaid smiles at me and his iron teeth glint in the light from my phone. ‘“For old time’s sake” I will break your neck instead of gutting you. How does that sound?’

I bring my wand up but Kincaid’s moving before I can raise it five inches. He hits me in the chest. My breath surges from my body and I fly backwards, landing in the water. My wand skids out of my hand. I’m wheezing, struggling to draw in air, wondering if he’s broken all my ribs.

I hear splashing, force myself to my elbows to see him striding towards me. I get to my knees. He grabs me by my waistcoat, lifts me effortlessly in the air, and head-butts me.

My nose breaks. I scream in pain. Blood pours down my face. I scrabble around at the back of my belt, my fingers curling around my knife. Kincaid’s lowering his head towards my neck. I can’t see properly. My vision is blurred with tears.

I bring the knife up and plunge it into his chest.

He hisses in pain, drops me. Staggers back. He pulls the knife out. Blood bubbles from the wound. He looks at the blade with interest, noting the runes inscribed there.

‘Holy weapon?’ he says, his voice hoarse.

He staggers and I feel a surge of hope.

Hope that is quickly dashed. He straightens up and flings the dagger at me. I jerk aside and it flies past my face. It skitters against the curved wall, raising sparks as it vanishes down the tunnel.

I turn back and Kincaid is rushing me. His eyes have turned red. He’s no longer smiling. Fuck. I fumble around for my Glock. Pull it out. Fire. One. Two. Three. The explosion of gunfire is deafening in the tunnels. Kincaid staggers, hesitates. The bullets should have dropped him. They’re UV laced silver nitrate. But he just shrugs them off as if they were paintball rounds.

I fire again but by this time he’s reached me. He grips my wrist, squeezing. Bones scrape together. I grit my teeth, try not to cry out. But he presses harder and a hoarse cry of pain tears from my throat.

I punch him with my free hand. He doesn’t even blink. I go for his eyes and he grabs my other wrist, squeezing that one too. He stretches my arms out to either side, forces me to my knees.

Then he starts pulling.

My muscles scream in pain. My shoulders are on fire. The fucker is actually trying to tear me apart.

He snarls at me. I think I hear my joints pop. I grit my teeth against the horrific agony—

And then something bursts out of his chest, spraying me with his blood.

We both look down. It’s Armitage’s wooden wand. Right through his heart.

He growls, releases my arms. I fall back into the water, gasping in pain.

Kincaid drops to his knees. A black stain appears around the wand and spreads like veins across his entire body. He shudders once, the black veins reaching up his neck and across his face.

The red light in his eyes flickers and goes out. He slowly falls sideways to reveal Armitage standing there, still holding her wand.

‘Good riddance. Never knew what you saw in him.’ She wipes the wand on Kincaid’s clothes and twists her neck from side to side, wincing as she does so.