A gust of night air blew past me as the rear door yawned open. The ramp began to lower. Bright artificial light sliced into the plane. Sounds came next—the rhythmic beeping of a truck backing up. Voices. They were speaking Italian but the tone was universal—the sound of people shooting the breeze as they worked.
The ramp was halfway down when I heard a furious metallic clatter and saw a sleek black blur. Shadow launched herself out of the plane with the same flair for drama as her horseman, her long legs pushing her into the air, her tail lashing like a black whip.
Then there was just … shouting.
CHAPTER 35
I took in the scene as I ran down the ramp.
About twenty meters away, Shadow ran in tight circles, trying to find a way past the people, trucks, and other obstacles that framed her in. Every single person in the vicinity had stopped what they were doing to watch her. Two cargo handlers stared in shock, ignoring the shipping boxes that tumbled from a conveyor belt to the asphalt. A woman jumped out of a van and fumbled for the radio at her belt. Closer, a bald man dropped to his knees and made the sign of the cross.
Daryn grabbed my arm. “Gideon, look!”
About fifty meters away, two Italian customs officers burst out of a car, both carrying rifles. Sebastian saw them too, and made a break for Shadow.
“Hold on!” I caught a handful of his shirt. “She’s your horse, Sebastian. You panic, everyone panics.” I pressed the rope into his hand. “Get out there and get her under control.”
Sebastian gaped at me. “I can’t use this on her!”
“Do it, Sebastian.”
“Gideon, this won’t work!”
Marcus looked from me to Sebastian, swore, and then tore away at a sprint.
It was the worst possible thing he could’ve done. Until then, Shadow had done what Daryn had hoped—created a diversion. The second Marcus ran, we were on everyone’s radar, too.
“Stai fermo!” yelled the two officers. They unshouldered their rifles and split targets—one on Shadow, one on Marcus.
“Go!” Daryn said. “You get Marcus. I’ll help Bas.”
It was the right call. I’d already made a snap decision to follow Marcus, sensing the greater potential for problems there. I ran after him, holding up my hands so the officers could see them. “It’s okay! It’s okay!” I yelled. “He just got scared!”
“Fermati!” they shouted. “Stop!”
But Marcus kept running toward the terminal, so I did too. The rifle squeezed off three quick rounds—pop, pop, pop—and Marcus tumbled to the ground. All I could do was turn it up another notch.
Shots fired again just as I reached him. He was already getting up, but I slammed into him, putting him in an instant sprint. We made for the nearest cover, a van, throwing ourselves behind it. I pulled him against the vehicle.
“I hate you,” I said, panting for breath. Blood rolled off my fingers. Mine or his? Marcus clutched his shoulder. His shoulder was bleeding. His blood.
He grimaced, in obvious pain. “Man, shut up.”
The van was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition—first good break yet. I slid the rear door open and pushed him inside. “Put some pressure on it. Maybe you won’t die.”
When I rounded the van again, Sebastian and Shadow were nowhere to be seen. They’d disappeared. Daryn hunkered beneath the cargo plane’s ramp, but everyone else had disappeared, too. Gunfire did that. But then I looked again, and saw two dark shapes on the tarmac. The customs officers. Facedown on the ground, with bone-colored blades sticking out of their backs.
No.
Daryn saw me, popped from behind the ramp, and came tearing over the same stretch Marcus and I had just crossed.
“No! Daryn, no!” I yelled.
The Kindred were here.
Samrael walked up to the officer’s prone bodies casually. Four other Kindred flanked him. Pyro, the younger one, with skittish energy. Ronwae, with the red hair. Malaphar, the weasel-looking one in his oversized suit. And a demon I hadn’t seen yet. A female in her thirties. Tall, with dreadlocks and a muscular build.
Samrael reached down and pulled one of the blades free. Then he straightened, looking from me to Daryn.
Daryn was halfway. Hauling. But it felt like she’d never reach me. Instinct took over and I shot toward her. I had no weapon, no way to give her cover. I did the only thing I could, putting myself between her and the Kindred.
Somehow we reached the van alive. We rounded it and I swung the passenger door open.
She jumped inside. “Let’s go, let’s go!” she yelled.
In the back of the van, Marcus sagged against a stack of boxes, holding his shoulder.
I shook my head. “Bas.”
“Gideon! We have to go!”
But I was already moving, dropping low and peering around the front of the van.
The Kindred hadn’t moved. They stood in a loose group around Samrael, whose eyes were fixed on me, his lips pulled into a smile.
I scanned the tarmac, the giant cargo planes and service trucks. Where the hell had Bas gone?