The third vampire scanned the room quickly, growled, and came for Lee.
He dropped the box he’d been holding. Something inside shattered as it hit the floor, and he held his breath, knowing that the next two seconds would decide his fate. Quickly but calmly, he drew the pistol from the holster beneath his left arm, dropping into a shooting stance as he brought it up and out, cupping his right hand with his left, and firing before consciously taking aim. He’d been a crack shot ten years before when he’d left the SIS, and he’d kept up the practice in his soundproofed basement, working so hard that gunplay eventually became natural for him. The gun was an extension of his hand and he punched with it, once, twice, tracking the shadow as it thrashed in midair and fell amongst a mess of torn boxes and spilled contents.
The gunshots were explosive, the recoil punching back into his shoulder and chest, and his hearing only faded back in slowly, whistling and humming as sound returned from a distance.
Lee gasped and sucked in another breath, then took two steps forward. The vampire was writhing on the floor, arms thrashing through the detritus as it tried to drag itself away. One bullet had blasted away most of its left hip, taking out a chunk of meat and bone that spattered somewhere across the room. The other had struck its stomach; judging from the exit wound on its back, Lee guessed it had shattered the base of the creature’s spine.
Good. Fucker. One more shot and—
A whole tier of shelving to his left started to tumble, frame tilting, shelves falling like scattered playing cards. Lee retreated a little, left arm held up to ward off the metal falling toward him. He let off a wild shot at the crippled vampire, but his line of sight was already blocked by the fallen shelving, its base now lifted from the floor and propped against the next tier.
Lee ducked down as the tier jarred to a halt at an angle just above his head. Then he went on his hands and knees and followed the vampire. He could hear the noise of fighting from elsewhere through the hum of his damaged hearing, but he could do little to help Patrick and Connie. His only hope was that they were stronger than the vampires… but surely that was a vain hope? Humains denied much of their nature, and that could not help but make them weak.
He squeezed beneath the tilted tier, gun hand held before him, and when he saw a shadow shifting to his right, he fired twice. There was no sign that he’d hit anything. On the other side, he felt around on the floor to heave himself upright. He felt the edge of a broken metal container and his hand slipped inside, touching something wet and thick.
Blood. But warm?
In the poor light it was difficult to see, but he thought the box had likely fallen from the very top of the shelving tier as it had been knocked aside. Right then, many things should have crossed Lee’s mind: What pushed the tier over? Where did Connie and that vampire go? I should take it and run, hide, because I know what this is really, don’t I? I know what this is. But instead he tipped the box and spilled its contents, then tugged at the thick wet cloth that wrapped a heavy, circular object. The cloth fell apart in his hand. Wet, rotten, it crumbled in shreds to the floor, exposing a glimmering arc of metal underneath.
Flipping the box over, he saw a familiar name scrawled in fading marker.
Lee knelt and picked up the Bane in his left hand. A rush of despair hit him, and its source was a mystery. He sobbed, coughing up an anguished gasp that seemed to reverberate all around the room. And then he saw the flapping legs of the crippled vampire disappearing beneath the next tier of shelving, and he had purpose.
Dropping his gun, he fell across the space between shelving banks, grasped one ankle, and pulled. The wounded vampire slid out on his stomach, clawed fingers struggling to gain purchase on the floor. When he was clear of the shelving, he rolled onto his back and opened his mouth wide, displaying those terrible teeth.
Lee held the handle that sat at the center of one side of the object, swung it in an arc over his head, and slashed through the vampire’s throat. With one more heavy strike, its spine shattered and its head bounced away, eyes still wide, teeth still chomping.
Lee stared at the Bane, and the slick of impossibly warm blood that coated its surface. He saw his vague reflection in there, and he was human. I’m holding all the power now, he thought. And then he heard the voice.
“Oh, that’s not nice,” it said, and it was the most unnatural voice he’d ever heard, forced from a throat that was made for swallowing blood, not spewing inanities.
To his left stood the tall bald vampire. The decapitated head had struck one of his boots and come to rest looking upward, mouth still moving. The bald vampire’s right hand was buried to the wrist in Connie’s throat. Her body hung limp beside him, legs trailing back and arms hanging down, relaxed fingers just touching the floor.
Lee held the Bane up before him.
The vampire laughed, threw Connie to one side, walked to Lee, and knocked his arm aside as he swung the Bane, sending it clattering from his hand and falling against the leaning tower of shelves.
Lee panicked, reaching for the gun beneath his right arm. The vampire was no longer laughing. His face was split into a grin, all teeth and darkness. He now swiped the gun from Lee’s left hand, and Lee watched it reflecting weak light as it spun out into the room. The vampire watched, too, and that allowed Lee the half second he needed to snatch the other gun from the small of his back and press it into the monster’s gut.
He pulled the trigger twice before the vampire grasped his arm and snapped it at the elbow.
Lee cried out and went to his knees, and the vampire took two swaying steps backwards. He looked down at his gut, and Lee could see all the way through, pale light from beyond finding its way past the swaying curtains of shattered insides and splintered bone. The heavy dumdums had done their job, and there was one more thing to do. With his left hand, he plucked the gun from his right, but only after forcing his clawed, insensitive fingers apart. Every movement was agony. White bone poked through at his right elbow. Head shot, he thought.
The vampire fell, and for one glorious moment Lee thought he had won. But then the monster grabbed the Bane and stood again in one unbelievably quick, fluid movement.
“Human!” he spat.
Lee paused in horror and disbelief, because this could not be.
“Lee!” someone shouted. Rose’s voice. There was a flash and a scream, and then the vampire fell upon him, the Bane falling in an arc toward his face.
He felt it strike. There was no pain—the shock was too great—but he heard his skull rupture, and in the moment before everything ended he thought, My blood on the Bane. There was no implication, only the knowledge. And then there was nothing at all.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…
Rose saw the tall vampire pull the object from Lee’s caved-in head, and she knew instantly what it was.
I have to tell you, Rose, that from what I’ve heard of the Bane, and if it’s actually for real, you have to find it before those vampires. You have to.
To her left she saw a flutter of movement, and then a woman vampire disentangled herself from Patrick’s embrace and limped to Duval, her features blurred as a result of terrible violence. She stood close to the tall vampire as he turned around, staring not at his face but at his hand, and the thing he held there.