Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (45 page)

“Oh, that is so unfair,” I muttered.

“Bastards,” Mr. Thompson growled. His cane was made of gnarled ash, a yard-long athame. Blue light burst from its tip, enveloping Baldy in a cocoon of ice. Maybe Nephilim didn’t have hearts to freeze, or maybe they were just tougher than Old Man Thompson’s mortal victims. The ice held for a moment, but before either Chuck or I could attack, Baldy broke free with a savage growl. And Ginger was right behind him, and they’d added Painting Creep, plus Crow, the dark-haired fallen angel from Dueler’s Alley and Asian Dude, one of the bad boys we had fought at the Briggs Society.
Damn.

“Take this!’ Nurse Judy muttered. She had no wand. Instead, she extended her right arm palm out, turning the gem in her ring toward the window. Green fire arced from her ring and hit Baldy full in the chest, holding him in place. Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrowed and this time when he sent a blast of magic from his cane, a dagger of solid ice lodged deep in Baldy’s chest like a frozen lance. Blood bubbled from the wound and the fallen angel collapsed as his body gave a final shudder, then disappeared.

Four Nephilim sauntered toward us, seemingly undeterred by the fact that we’d already dispatched three of their buddies. It didn’t help that Nephilim could fly, and landing in the walled garden was a lot easier than scaling the walls to get out. They didn’t need to hurry. We were the ones inside a burning building.

The ghosts of Palmetto Meadows had begun to gather. Maybe they wanted to watch us fight the monsters, or perhaps they sensed that some of the residents might soon be among them, if we couldn’t tame the fire and smoke soon. But I glimpsed their presence near the memorial tree, silent witnesses to our skirmish with the forces of Hell.

The smoke was getting thicker despite the broken windows. In the hallway, I heard screams and sobbing, shouts and prayers. I wanted to help the staff get the patients to safety. But nowhere was safe until we dealt with the Nephilim. Then the fire doors triggered, and we were cut off from the hallway, locked in the activity room with three fallen angels, and fenced in all around with a brick wall too high to climb.

I pushed my athame back up my sleeve and snapped the
chakram
free, leaving Josiah’s pistol jammed into my belt. Ginger stepped through the shattered glass coming straight at me, while two others advanced on Chuck and Mr. Thompson. I sent the
chakram
flying.

Ginger flinched an instant too late. The
chakram
hit him in the chest, slicing bone-deep, right through to the ribs. A large flap of flesh hung from the bones, splattering blood across the broken glass that still clung to the window frame. The Nephilim staggered forward, howling in anger and pain. Bo’s ghost lunged, chest high, and sank his teeth into Ginger’s right shoulder. As the Nephilim struggled, Chuck flicked his wrist and sent a silver dagger into the fallen angel’s left eye. Bo released his jaws, and Ginger fell to the ground, convulsing, before disappearing in the next instant.

“Got another one of them,” Chuck muttered.

“Watch out!” Judy shouted, and shot her green fire over my shoulder so close it singed my hair. She caught Painting Creep full in the face, and while he was trapped by her magic, I grabbed Josiah’s pistol, took aim and shot that son of a bitch right through the heart with Winfield’s special bullet. He dropped like a rock.

Baxter whined quietly from the backpack, and much as I hated to admit it, I was as scared as he was.

Two Nephilim left. I prayed that they didn’t get more reinforcements. Crow ran toward Mr. Thompson, who brought his ash wood cane up like a rifle. He shouted a command, and ice formed on the Nephilim’s skin and clothing, frosting his hair white. The fallen angel slowed, and I wondered whether Old Man Thompson was trying to freeze his blood or stop his heart.

But in the next breath, Crow shook off the ice and came at Thompson with a roar, lifting him out of his wheelchair and throwing him across the room. Thompson twisted as he flew through the air, and managed to hang onto his cane. He fell hard, but he was tough enough to roll into a ball, a move that told me he had long practice and plenty of experience with fights.

Judy ran over to him, and I put myself between Crow and them, hoping to buy time. I got in a shot with my athame that sent the Nephilim halfway across the room, but I knew it wasn’t putting him down for good. Then I realized I had made a big mistake.

I had forgotten about Becky.

Becky charged out of the activity room’s side parlor armed with a kitchen knife in each hand. I don’t know what hold her fallen angel boyfriend had on her, but her eyes were glazed and her lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl. Meanwhile, the Nephilim I’d just hit with my magic got to his feet and looked ready to rumble.

I couldn’t fight off both Becky and Crow at the same time. As Becky ran at me, the last fallen angel, Asian Dude, started to transform into his nightmare beast form. This just kept going from bad to worse.

Becky was closer than the Nephilim, and if I didn’t stop those knives, I’d be mincemeat before the fallen angel got to me. Baxter barked angrily from my backpack.

Bo’s ghost snapped and harried Crow while I went after Becky. Josiah’s gun only held one shot, so I grabbed it by the barrel and swung it like a club. I slammed the butt against her right hand, and she lost her grip on one of the knives, which I kicked to the far corner of the room. She got me good with the other knife, opening a deep cut on my left forearm that hurt like hell. I brought the dueling pistol back for a second blow and this time, I nailed Becky right in the temple. She sagged like a sack of potatoes, and while she was on her way down, I kicked the bloody knife from her left hand, just in case. I hoped she was down for the count, because Crow was closing fast.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Chuck was losing ground against Asian Dude. It was in its monster form, a purplish-black, fanged and clawed creature from a nightmare, and it stood at least eight feet tall with muscles all the steroids in the world couldn’t give a mortal.

Chuck hit the monster with his sword and two of his silver throwing knives, but the creature just bellowed in rage and kept coming. He zapped it with the ray gun look-alike he had used at the Old Jail, but that only slowed the Nephilim down. I hoped Chuck had more surprises in his pack, because I couldn’t help him and still protect Judy and Mr. Thompson.

The room was growing smokier by the minute. We would probably have been dead already if the Nephilim hadn’t broken all the floor-to-ceiling windows on their way in. I heard sirens in the distance, but I wasn’t counting on them getting here in time for a rescue.

More ghosts lurked around the edge of the room. I would have expected them all to appear as frail old people, but maybe they got to choose, because many of them looked as they had in their prime. Most of the men wore military uniforms from the World Wars. Some of the women wore ball gowns while others sported cocktail dresses or shirtwaists with matching hats and white gloves. They watched the fight with interest, staying well back out of the way.

“Hey soldier boys!” I yelled. “We could use a little help here!”

Bo got his ghostly teeth into Crow’s thigh, and refused to let go. The ghostly old soldiers swept forward, some toward Crow and others toward the monster Chuck battled. Like Bo, they were solid enough to grab arms and legs, dragging the fallen angels back and slowing them down. I was willing to take all the help I could get.

While Crow and Asian Dude struggled to get loose, my gaze fell on the silver candelabrum under the memorial tree canvas. I dove for it and came up swinging. Damn, it was heavy. Holding it by its base, I swung with both hands, slamming it into Crow’s head so hard I crushed the side of his skull. Blood streamed down his ruined face and fluid poured from his eye, but he kept on coming.

He smacked his fist into me and sent me reeling. I lost Josiah’s pistol out of my belt, and it went spinning away. Even though I was seeing double from the impact, I swung the candelabrum again, aiming this time for the front of his face. The silver burned his skin as it made contact, breaking his nose and caving in his cheekbones. His remaining eye fixed on me with a bone-chilling hatred.

Crow raised his fist to hit me again. Bo snarled and chomped down on the fallen angel’s wrist, while the old soldiers tackled him, throwing him off balance. It was the break I needed. Running with all my might, I angled the candle-holder side of the candelabrum toward the Nephilim and charged at him with my full strength, ramming the six separate prongs into his chest with enough force to break ribs. Then I let go of the candelabrum with my right hand and shoved my palm right against his chest. I let my athame fall down my sleeve into my hand, called on my power, and blasted that cold force right through his body at point-blank range.

It tore a hole right through his body, as if I’d shot him with a cannon. Crow sank to his knees and fell face-first onto the blood-covered floor, then disappeared.

That left the Asian Dude in full monster mode. It swung a clawed hand at Chuck, but he ducked and got in a good, deep slash with his sword. The bloody blade’s silver gleam betrayed its magic.

I didn’t want to get close enough to Asian Dude to try my candelabrum trick again, but I whacked it good on the wrist when it tried to take a swing at me, and got backhanded out through one of the ruined windows for my trouble. Lucky for Baxter, who was still in my backpack, I fell on my side. The walled garden had been great for keeping befuddled residents in, but now that we needed a way to escape, it made it damn near impossible to easily get out. The air was filled with smoke, and part of the roof was burning. We were running out of time.

I picked myself up, aching all over. My lip was swollen and bloody, and the gash I’d taken on my arm was bleeding pretty badly. The scratches from the Nephilim’s claws burned, and if I survived the fight, I’d have to deal with their poison.

My
chakram
glinted in the sun, and I grabbed it, running back in to the fight. The last Nephilim was heading for Judy and Mr. Thompson. Chuck was on the floor, crawling to his knees for another round.

“Hey ugly!” I yelled, trying to distract Asian Dude. I hurled my
chakram
, and caught it in the neck, but it wasn’t straight on, so the razor disk just loosed a fountain of black blood instead of taking the monster’s head off. Now it was really pissed.

Mr. Thompson croaked a word of power, and a white blast shot from his cane, rooting the Nephilim to the floor with a thick layer of ice from the waist down. Some of that ice made the tile slick, and I slid, and slammed into the memorial tree canvas on my left side, knocking the wind out of me.

Judy fired off another green blast from her ring, hitting Asian Dude square on. Bo sank his ghostly teeth into the Nephilim’s right leg, while the old soldiers rushed the monster from the front. Chuck came up on one knee and aimed the biggest damn handgun I’d ever seen in my life at the fallen angel’s back.

As soon as my skin touched the memorial tree artwork, I felt a surge of powerful emotion: sadness, hope, acceptance, and even joy. I was drained and fading, so I latched onto the vivid memories and feelings that permeated every inch of the canvas. The artist’s passion. The grief of family members. The dedication of nurses like Judy. The bittersweet memories of people like Mrs. Butler.

I thrust my power into the canvas, pulling the surge of those emotions into me, recharging my magic. And then I sent it all blasting toward Asian Dude with a full-throated battle cry of defiance, feeling as if I had opened a fire hose of magic that poured through me and out through my raised palms.

My blast of magic hit just as Chuck pulled the trigger, and my head rang like a bell at the sound of the shot. The bullet and my force magic tore through Asian Dude, taking off its right arm and half of its back and showering the room with gore and blood. The bullet slammed into the door to the reception area, splintering it from top to bottom.

The last Nephilim collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap. Small ash heaps marked where the other fallen angels’ bodies had disintegrated. The old soldiers saluted and winked out, along with the rest of the ghostly onlookers. Bo barked at me urgently, as if to remind me that the building was on fire. Like I could forget. Chuck was crawling around, gathering up our weapons and stuffing them in his bag.

Even with the broken windows, the smoke was getting thick. My lungs ached, and my eyes stung. Baxter had gone quiet in my backpack and I was worried. Overhead, the ceiling creaked ominously. In a few more minutes, it wouldn’t matter that we had defeated the Nephilim. We were all going to be dead from the fire.

“Get everyone into the garden!” I yelled to Chuck. It might be walled, but it was outside, and there had to be a door somewhere for lawn maintenance that we could use to escape. Then again, it was probably locked to keep the residents from wandering off.

“You get the nurse. I’ll get Thompson,” Chuck ordered. We sucked in deep breaths of air, then charged back into the activity room. The smoke was thick enough that it was like fighting my way through heavy fog and it hurt to breathe. I found Judy slumped over Mr. Thompson, grabbed her by her wrists, and yanked her toward the garden with all my might. It wasn’t gentle, but it beat burning to death.

Chuck was right behind me, carrying Old Man Thompson in his arms. We reached the far wall of the garden and looked back toward the nursing home. Most of the roof was on fire, and it looked like it could collapse at any moment.