CHAPTER ELEVEN
The first thing that happened was that I screamed. I like to think it was something useful, like “Look out!” or “Vampire!” but in reality I belted out an incoherent shriek while waving my sword at Addie. Being the finely-tuned killing machine that she was, Addie drew her revolver and spun around to face the vampire in a single, smooth motion. The creature caught her wrist in his massive hand and twisted the barrel away from his body. Addie fired desperately, just as the vampire wrenched the pistol from her hand. All of this happened in a heartbeat.
The muzzle flash burned a hole in the darkness, turning the kitchen as bright as daylight. Chesa screamed and Gregory flinched back at the sharp, deafening sound.
In that brief flash of light, I saw everything: Pierre the Undead Baker huddled on the floor, flour dusting the pale flesh of his hands, mixing with the blood smeared across his chest. Gregory, half-turning toward the new threat. Chesa, standing next to Addie, vaulting away from the monster that had just lunged out of the darkness. Tembo, starting to weave a spell around his staff, the amber light dim in the sudden brightness of the flash. And Lady Adelaide, crumpling to the ground as the beast’s claws came down on her shoulders. The broken revolver tumbled out of her limp fingers.
Behind her, a vampire. Unmistakable. He was tall, dressed in the blood-spattered tunic of a baker, with glowing red eyes and a tumble of curly black locks. His veins stood out, black on his pale face, and claws burst out of the flesh of his fingers. There was something peering over his shoulder. The creature lifted Addie to its mouth and bore down, closing its jaws around her throat.
The muzzle flash passed, leaving us in total darkness. There was a wet, sloppy, wrenching noise. Addie screamed in pain.
“Chesa, gimme that light!” I shouted, already stumbling blindly forward.
Chesa still had the flarrow on her string, but instead of sending it into the ceiling, she took a blind shot at the creature gripping Addie. Her flight went barely wide, cracking into dazzling sunlight over the vampire’s shoulder. Pierre shrieked and scrambled deeper into the shadows, while Gregory and I squinted at the silhouette of the monster before us. It held Addie in its massive hands, claws drawing pinpricks of blood from her shoulder and arm. Her head flopped to one side. Two fresh puncture wounds in her neck sputtered blood, and fresh gore dripped down the vampire’s chin. It stared at us with those piercing red eyes, grinning fiercely.
“I guess that settles the vampire question,” I said, then lowered my shield and charged the monster.
Tossing Addie to the side like a broken doll, the vampire met my charge head-on. Its fist glanced off my shield, but the force of the blow was still enough to stagger me. I recovered enough to take a swing at its leading leg, but when my blade bit into its calf, it bounced off. The shock of that impact numbed my hand. It felt like striking cold mud. Before I could react, the vampire lowered its shoulder and slammed into my shield, driving me halfway across the room with little effort. I slid to a stop. Gregory stared at me.
“Thick skin, and strong,” I said, catching my breath. The vampire watched us carefully, his fanged mouth hanging open. The creature had a very feral appearance, stooped over like a bear, arms dangling. I gave Gregory a nod. “It’s going to take both of us.”
“This spawn of darkness will not stand against Bright Vengeance!” Gregory shouted, bringing his massive sword into a guard position. “Face me, fiend, and know the meaning of—”
A blur of pale skin and blood-spotted clothes barreled into Gregory, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling in a tangle of armored limbs and clanging steel. The vampire loomed over him. Gregory scrambled back, zweihander held awkwardly between them. The vampire moved faster than either of us could react.
“He’s too fast!” I shouted. “Tembo, you got anything for this?”
“A moment, Sir John,” he replied. His hands wove a complex pattern around his staff, plucking strands of light out of the air. “Keep him occupied for a moment.”
“Occupied, eh? Easy enough.”
I rushed in, taking a backswing at the vampire’s exposed spine; the blow slid off its thick skin. Apparently that was enough to distract it, though, because the beast twisted to face me, letting Gregory escape to the cover of a long wooden table that ran the length of the room. The vampire took a swipe at my shield, then skittered deeper into the shadows. Gregory clambered to his feet on the other side of the table. As it fled, I got a good look at the device on its back. Similar to the scarab on Pierre’s skull, but much larger, with brass arms that sunk deep into its skin. Pistons squirmed across the body of the machine, pumping some foul liquid into the vampire’s body.
“Holy crap, Rast, he’s fast!” Gregory shouted.
“Yeah, and that skin is tough. So when I say it’s going to take both of us, I mean both. Like, at the same time. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” For once, Gregory looked unsettled. His hair hung in damp loops down his forehead, and his armor already had several dents in it. “Say the word.”
“The word is violence.” I was regretting my lack of helm, but at least I had a gorget covering my neck. “Let me distract him. You hit him from the other side.”
“You guys want me to do anything, or should I just sit around looking pretty?” Chesa asked. She had taken up position near the ovens, balanced on a bread rack that reached the ceiling.
“See if you can find a weak spot,” I said. “Hitting him felt like digging a trench in clay. But it’s gotta be soft somewhere. Maybe focus on that device on his back.”
“One undead pincushion, coming up.” Chesa drew an arrow to her cheek, then nodded us forward.
With a flick of my wrist, I changed the configuration of my shield, making it bigger and heavier, with a thick steel rim that I could use for punching. That transformation sapped my magical reserves. I could feel the energy leaving my body. “Reminder to everyone that we’re on starvation rations,” I said. “Use your powers sparingly.”
“Noted,” Gregory said. Despite that, he triggered his sword’s magical power. A wreath of flame ran up the surface of the wavy blade, bathing the darkened room in heat and flickering light. The vampire flinched away from the sudden flames. “Let’s see if steampunk vampires can burn!”
Gregory and I charged in, him swinging Bright Vengeance in great, sweeping arcs, me holding my bulwark high and threatening with my sword. The vampire backed up, feinting first toward me, then doubling back on Gregory when I threw up my shield. Bright Vengeance passed in a burning line over the vampire’s head, and then the beast rushed in, crowding Gregory’s chest. Fortunately, I was expecting this, and was already moving.
Another tap of magical power, and my massive shield collapsed into a fist-sized buckler, giving me more range of motion and speed. With the vampire close to Gregory, I punched my shield into the beast’s lower back, following up with a strong slice with my sword, running from hilt to tip. The blade bit into the beast’s stubborn flesh, parting it at the base of the spine. Steel thrummed against bone, throwing sparks. Instead of blood, a thick black liquid smeared across the steel. It smelled like creosote, and bubbled like burning tar.
Not what I was expecting, to say the least.
“Something’s wrong,” I said, just as the vampire swung around and backhanded me. I got my shield up, but it was still in its smaller configuration, and the bulk of the blow went into my forearm and elbow. I spun around like a top, continuing the movement to face the vampire again. It opened its mouth to bite down on my shoulder. The flames of Gregory’s blade flickered across its steel bright fangs.
Steel fangs. Metal arms. Glowing eyes. Strength and speed beyond any flesh-and-blood creature I had ever seen. This wasn’t a vampire.
It was a machine.
Just as the vampire lunged at me, an arrow whistled through the air and thunked into its cheek. Another followed close behind, landing with a satisfying smack into its exposed neck, and a third thudded into the creature’s eye. The vampire flinched back, swatting at the protruding shafts with its steel claws. The wood snapped like kindling, but the heads remained buried deep in its flesh.
“Nice shot, Ches!” Gregory bellowed.
“Not enough!” I called. “Tembo?”
“Nearly there!” the big mage answered. A tapestry of light hung around him, growing in complexity with each pass of his nimble fingers.
“Fine.” I tossed my shield like a sling, holding on to the enarme straps and willing the shield face into a longer shape. It settled into a kite shield, but with a front edge that was as sharp as a razor. If I was going to beat a machine, I was literally going to have to beat the machine. “Hey, Count Mechula! Come get it!”
Ignoring the trio of arrow shafts sticking out of its face, the vampire came at me, swinging both hooked claws like threshers. I deflected the first swing with my sword, letting the claw travel down the length of the blade before catching it at the hilt. The flesh of the vampire’s wrist tore open, but the creature seemed undeterred. The same black ichor splashed down my weapon. When its fist reached the hilt, it curled thick fingers around the quillions, wrestling for control of the weapon.
“That’s mine, you grim bastard,” I said through gritted teeth. Up close, I could smell the sharp tang of hot metal, and hear the lurch and rumble of machinery. The vampire stared at me blankly, then opened its gaping jaws and snapped at my face.
I punched with the sharp edge of my shield, driving it twice into its open jaws. Eventually its mouth clapped shut. I disengaged, then thrust the bottom point of the shield into the creature’s thigh and leaned my whole weight on it. There was enough force in the blow to twist the vampire to the side. I disentangled my sword from the creature’s grasping claws, drew back, and smashed the pommel directly into its forehead. Once. Twice. A third time, each strike ringing like a bell. The beast’s face began to deform like a mask melting in the fire. I drew back to strike a fourth and, hopefully, final time.
Before I could land the fateful blow, the vampire seized my shield in both hands and lifted it high into the air. I was still attached to the shield in question. My legs dangled off the ground, kicking ineffectively at the vampire’s chest. With no leverage, my sword arm hung limp at my side. I tried cutting at the creature’s fingers, but my blade simply banged off the hardened flesh of its hand.
“Guys! Figure something out!” I shouted.
“Incoming!” Gregory roared forward, Bright Vengeance overhead. He chopped down, connecting with the vampire’s shoulder with all his might. The burning blade sliced deeply into the beast’s shoulder. Meat sizzled and cloth burned, sending up plumes of acrid smoke. The blow was enough to release me. I dropped to the ground and rolled out from under the vampire’s shadow, coming to my feet against one of the baker’s tables. I whirled around to see what damage Gregory had managed.
The vampire’s arm dangled lifeless from the socket. The edge of the wound was jagged and twitching with mechanical life. I watched in horror as the dead meat of his shoulder knitted back together, zippering closed like a pair of trousers. The thick black ichor pouring down its side landed in squirming clumps on the floor of the bakery. The engine between its shoulder blades clattered loudly.
“It’s the machine! That’s what’s keeping him alive,” I shouted. “Hit the thing on its back!”
The monster responded by catching Gregory’s next swing with its bare hand and throwing him across the room. The paladin yelped as he vaulted over the baker’s table, to land in a heap at the base of the ovens. Then the creature turned to me and roared.
“Okay, just you and me. That’s fine.” I could feel my magical reserves running out, but I figured I had enough for one last trick. Hopefully it would be enough.
My shield, Svalinn, was a gift from the valkyries for heading off Ragnarok. In legend, it was the shield that protected the earth from the sun, and had various cold powers associated with it. I rarely used them, because legendary powers absorbed a lot of my mojo, but it seemed the time had come to call on the winter of the Viking armageddon. I gritted my teeth and delved deep into my mythic self, pulling every last scrap of magical power to the fore, then pushed it all into the shield. It returned to its natural form, a Viking round shield, then began to glow.
The surface of my shield swam with pale blue light, and a vortex of snowflakes and freezing mist swirled across the leather face. The air turned as cold as a Wisconsin sunrise in February, the chill traveling down my arm and into my lungs. The limited well of my magical power leaked away, like water through a sieve. Whatever I was going to do, I had to do it fast. I suppressed a shiver, then squared off against the vampire.
Big and Bitey didn’t seem to notice the change in temperature, or just didn’t care. Distracted by its severed arm, perhaps. It lumbered closer, taking a swipe at my head with its remaining claw. I ducked, then punched my shield forward to strike the elbow of the swinging arm. That didn’t have an immediate impact, but when he wound up again I noticed that its arm was a little slow to respond. This time I took its attack full on the face of the shield. My feet slid back as it pushed me along, but when I pulled away it took a second for claws to peel back from the shield.
I’ve tried to start my car in the middle of January often enough to know what cold weather does to machines. Maybe this monster couldn’t feel pain, or fear, but nothing was immune to freezing temperatures and frostbite. Especially if its clockwork depended on oil to function properly.
Frost covered the monster’s face, spreading like cobwebs across the steely surface of its skin. Before it could attack again, I shuffled to the side and swung down with my sword. Sparks flew, but this time they were joined by broken cogs and sundered springs. The oil leaking from its wound was as black and slow as tar. The vampire lumbered around to face me, but its joints shrieked in protest as it turned, and its feet dragged along the floor. I bashed the vampire across the face with the boss of the shield, and was rewarded with a spray of cogs and the sound of torquing metal.
Just then, my magical reserves emptied out. The polar vortex snuffed out, along with some of the passive defensive abilities of my mythos. Aches and pains sprang up across my body, as the pain-dampening and resilience powers switched off abruptly. I let out an involuntary moan, but kept moving.
The vampire grabbed at my neck with its outstretched hand. Its fingers closed around my gorget, and I heard the wrinkling metal just as pressure grew around my collar. I really regretted leaving my helm back at the ship. Last time I’d let vanity guide my battle prep. The beast drew me close, its jaws gaping as it pulled me into its embrace. I stuck my knee into its chest, struggling to keep it away from my neck, then I released my shield, letting it swing on its straps around my elbow, and took my sword in both hands. Arrows whistled overhead as Chesa tried to split the difference between hitting the vampire and skewering me. There was no sign of Gregory, or The Good Doctor. Typical healers and heroes, disappearing when things got tough.
Grasping my sword in both hands, I placed the forte of the blade against the vampire’s wrist, then worked it back and forth until I found a joint. I might not be able to cut the beast’s flesh, but I could wreak havoc with a ball joint, given enough leverage and the will to live. The vampire glanced down at my blade and smiled through gore-stained lips. Its fingers pressed tighter and tighter against my neck.
“Boo!” The shadows overhead coalesced into the falling form of Bethany the Rogue. She dropped onto the vampire’s shoulders, one dagger in each hand, and went to work. The sound of punctured skin and breaking metal filled the air, along with a haze of black ichor that flew up in plumes from the dozens of puncture wounds inflicted on the creature’s back.
The vampire dropped me and grabbed at Bee, but she was too fast. Somersaulting off the beast, she danced across the flour-dusted table, pirouetting in a blur of steel and skin and sparks. It lurched after her, slowed down by the frost clinging to its flesh, but also by the accumulation of sliced tendons and ruptured muscles. I hopped to my feet.
“The engine!” I croaked. “Break the engine!”
Bethany heard and responded. With each vaulting leap, she came down behind the vampire, striking a dozen times at the machine perched on its shoulders, then dancing away when it whirled to face her. Finally, with one scything blow, the machine came loose.
It dropped to the floor with a slithering whir. A half dozen snaking tendrils ripped free from the vampire’s flesh with a meaty schlup. The brass pincers that had held it in place, still slick with blood, twitched as the scarab-like engine clattered on its back. The vampire stood dumbstruck, weaving back and forth on its feet.
“That’s enough of that,” I said, lifting my shield overhead. The engine smashed into a hundred pieces, carapace and body shattering with a very satisfying crunch.
The vampire leaned forward and slowly, like a tower collapsing in on itself, crashed to the ground.
“Ready!” Tembo called. He balanced a spinning ball of light on the point of his staff. “Just point me to . . . Oh.”
“Sorry, Tem. Already killed it,” I said. “Better luck next time.”
“Hey, have you guys seen all these pancakes?” Matthew asked as he strolled into the kitchen. “They’re not bad. Oh, hey. Kind of a mess in here.”
I mean . . . healers, right?