I cast a quick glimpse at the approaching horde. They weren’t moving very fast. I wasn’t sure why. But I was glad.
“Stay here,” I ordered, and after grabbing my keys to make sure she did, I hurried to the trunk where I eyed the biggest knives I had. I possessed one sword, and I wished momentarily for two. I was going to have to do some beheading.
I took the sword in my right hand and a bowie knife in my left then shut the trunk. The girl was gone. A quick glance across the road revealed her running across a recently shorn field of unidentifiable crops. She was making excellent time.
Good. I wouldn’t need to worry about one or more of them flanking me and getting to her. I didn’t need to think up a plausible excuse for what she’d seen—not that there was one.
I returned my attention to the problem far too close at hand. Beheading usually discouraged the most determined vampire, but I’d met things in the past that were capable of picking up their head and putting it back on. I hated when that happened.
The vampires closed in, and the smell of death intensified. “What are you?” I asked.
They were either smart enough not to answer me, or incapable of speech. I counted fourteen—all men, all blond, blue-eyed, offensive lineman–types—six-seven or more, no necks, huge biceps and legs like oak trees. They looked like Vikings.
“I hate Vikings,” I muttered—both the NFLteam and the ruthless invaders from the north—then swung my sword at the nearest one.
He grabbed the blade before I chopped off his head. I managed to slice several fingers, but that was nothing more than a shaving cut to a vampire. He reached for me with his uninjured hand; I ducked then rolled.
I was back on my feet in an instant—a state champion gymnastics medal had turned out to be the most useful part of high school. Add to that supernatural speed and strength and I could hold my own.
Sensing a vampire creep close, I spun; sweeping out with my sword, I managed to slice his neck. Blood sprayed, but he didn’t die. His damn head hung half on and half off.
Three others were near enough that I could smell their rancid breath. I flicked a hand, and they bowled over two more who hovered behind, all five going down like pins on a lane. I finished off the wounded one just as he began to heal. The instant his head separated completely from his body, both halves burst into ashes.
“Yes!”
Whirling, I kicked another in the chest. He flew several feet and landed on the hood of the Impala. I winced at the resulting crunch. Summer was going to make me pay for that in ways that had nothing to do with money.
I kept flicking, kicking, and beheading, but I didn’t seem to be making much progress. They were like the proverbial fishes. The more I killed, the more seemed to appear. I thought of the Iyas spilling over the horizon in a never-ending stream. Was this going to be the way every battle went from now on?
I was beginning to tire, to wonder what I was going to do when I ran out of gas. Then I felt a ripple in the air around me. Not the wind. There wasn’t even a trace of a breeze.
In that instant of distraction, a vampire slunk close enough to bear-hug me from behind. He tried to sink his teeth into my neck and got a mouthful of dog collar instead. The necklace was good for more than just demon containment.
Howling—I think he lost a fang—he dropped me. I landed on my feet swinging and nearly took off the head of a man with a distinctly different appearance from all the others.
Though blond, he was sun-burnished instead of winter-pale. His eyes, while blue, were more indigo than sky, and though he seemed short compared with the others, he was still several inches taller than me, which put him over six feet. Wiry and quick, he brandished a sword in each hand, and he knew exactly what to do with them.
As I continued to gape at his sudden appearance, the man hacked off the heads of two vampires at once before moving on to two more.
I couldn’t stop staring. Blood trailed over his bare chest and back. Copper armbands engraved with fleurs-de-lis cupped his biceps. He wore a necklace of silver charms, and something shiny hung from one ear, tangling with the golden length of his hair.
Strands of white threaded the gold and fine lines of age creased his eyes, but his body was honed and hard. He might be anywhere from thirty to fifty.
One of the half demons managed to grab him by the throat. The Nephilim’s hand got tangled in the necklace, and he screamed as first fire then smoke flared from his fingertips. I really wanted to know what that guy wore around his neck, and then I’d get me some.
“Duck,” the man shouted, so I did. A vampire’s arms slapped together above my head. “If you can’t help, you’re hurting,” he snapped. “Run and hide.”
“Like hell,” I muttered.