I still had the iron spear in my hand, and brought it up to block the shadowborn’s katana. I lunged before it could swing again. The shadowborn vanished a split second before the spear pierced its chest.
Chaos raged around me. Bethany’s gunshots echoed in my ears. Isaac blasted fire from his hands. The shadowborn popped in and out of the material plane all up and down the stairs. And through it all, I watched Reve Azrael in Thornton’s body creep closer to Gabrielle down below. Gabrielle had finished off all the revenants but one, a skinny corpse with a mohawk and a leather vest. It backed away as Reve Azrael approached.
“You can put the sword down now, baby,” Reve Azrael said. Her approximation of Thornton’s speech pattern was eerily perfect.
“Don’t call me that,” Gabrielle said, shaking her head defiantly. “You’re not Thornton.”
Reve Azrael smiled. The red glow danced in her eyes. “No. Even you would not be so foolish as to fall for that. But the memories housed in this body, his thoughts of you are so sweet. So exposed. Did he ever tell you the nickname he had for the mole on your lower back?”
Gabrielle’s face hardened. She drew back her burning sword. “You leave him be!”
“Or what? You’ll strike me down? Do it, and you’ll destroy your lover’s body. All that remains of him. Are you prepared to do that?”
Gabrielle gritted her teeth, the muscles of her arms tensing.
“Your beloved, cleaved in two by your own hand,” Reve Azrael said. “Could you perpetrate such violence on him? Could you live with the memory of it for the rest of your life?”
The burning sword seemed to tremble in her hands, and her face registered a mix of emotions: confusion, outrage, revulsion, grief, and a paralyzing uncertainty.
Swing the damn sword, I thought, but I could tell she wasn’t going to. Reve Azrael had gotten to her. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy the body of the man she loved, the man she’d planned to marry. If we didn’t do something to help, she was going to get herself killed.
I hurried down the steps, but Philip sped past me. But as fast as he was, the shadowborn were faster. One materialized in Philip’s path and swung its katana in a wide, forceful arc. The blade caught Philip in the chest, knocking him backward onto the steps. His shirt had been sliced open to reveal an angry red gash across his chest.
It could have been a lot worse. Frankly, I was surprised it wasn’t. A blow like that from the shadowborn’s katana probably would have cut me in half, but Philip, who looked skinny enough to wriggle through a roll of paper towels, only seemed to have suffered a flesh wound. Just how hard was a vampire’s skin?
Bethany opened fire at the shadowborn again, covering Isaac as he bolted down the steps. He grabbed Philip under the arms and dragged him back up the stairs to the landing.
“If you’re going to strike me down, do it now,” Reve Azrael taunted Gabrielle. “Cut Thornton’s head from his shoulders.”
Gabrielle’s eyes glistened with tears. She slowly lowered the blazing sword. “I can’t.”
Shit. I started down the steps again, but this time both shadowborn appeared before me, blocking my way. Damn. The higher ground of the stairs had been perfect for fighting the revenants earlier, but now we’d inadvertently trapped ourselves. I backed away. Bethany came storming down the steps, pulling the triggers on both guns, but they were empty. She tossed them away and reached for her vest. The shadowborn stalked up the steps toward us.
I’d lost track of the mohawked revenant below, but now I saw it again. It was holding something in its hand. A gun. My gun. It must have picked it up from the floor. Now it was pointing it at Gabrielle’s back.
“Behind you!” I shouted.
Gabrielle spun around, lifting the burning sword again, but it was too late. The gun went off. She jerked back, a red splotch blossoming in the spot between her shoulder and chest. She spun from the shot, and the burning sword took off the mohawked revenant’s head. Gabrielle crumpled to the floor. The burning sword extinguished itself. She lay so still that I was worried she was dead. Then I saw her take a shallow breath and knew she was only unconscious. I felt a surprising amount of relief. Apparently, I was starting to care about these people. It was a new feeling.
Reve Azrael loomed over Gabrielle, a cruel smile twisting Thornton’s features. She picked up the gun, and aimed it squarely at Gabrielle’s head.
“No!” I shouted.
Reve Azrael pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, empty. I let out my breath. I’d never been so relieved to run out of bullets.
She tossed the gun aside. “No matter. She will be dead soon enough, just like the rest of this accursed city.” She looked at Thornton’s hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “Oh, but I like this body. Dead, yes, but whole. Strong. Thank you for making it so much better than the rotting carcasses I’m used to. I think I’ll keep it a while. It has so many useful memories to draw from. And one in particular that I am most thankful for.” She walked to the bookcase that hid Isaac’s vault, and pulled the small leather globe. The bookcase swung open. Isaac’s face remained defiant as he watched her punch in the combination on the keypad of the metal door behind the bookcase. Then the metal door swung open, too, and bright light spilled through the doorway from the vault, accompanied by the strange, deep hum I’d heard before.
“Ah, such marvels,” Reve Azrael said. She walked inside.
With the shadowborn between us and her, there was nothing we could do to stop her from helping herself to the contents of the vault. All we could do was retreat up the steps to the landing. The shadowborn stayed where they were at the bottom of the steps, keeping us penned in. Either they were awaiting further instructions, or they were just toying with us, knowing they’d won.
Isaac was crouching over Philip, keeping pressure on the vampire’s wound. “We can’t just let her take it,” I said, but Isaac didn’t answer me. Philip groaned in pain. “We can’t just let her win!” I insisted.
“Did you really think it would end any other way?” Melanthius asked, stepping forward. The rictus smile of his golden skull mask looked like a smirk.
Reve Azrael emerged from the vault, carrying the box. My heart sank. This was it, then. We’d lost. Reve Azrael had Stryge’s head.
“Picture it, mage,” she said as she joined Melanthius in the center of the room. “An entire city of the dead. It’s almost enough to make me want to spare your life, just so you can see it before you die. Almost.”
Isaac’s eyes were cold and hard. “There are ten million people in this city, Reve Azrael. Someone will stop you. If not us then others, but someone will stop you.”
Reve Azrael laughed. “Who? The Guardians? They do not care. They will sit on their hands and watch, as they always do. Or perhaps you think the wretched denizens of this city will rise up to stop me, these selfish, blind, and craven fools who swarm the sidewalks like mindless vermin, who cower in their homes in fear of each other? None of them will move against me. No one will risk their own lives. Even you never did, mage. Oh yes, I am aware of your clandestine activities, the thefts of artifacts from all over this city. I have been aware of you and your operation for some time now. Did you really think no one would notice? How foolish you are, how shortsighted. No wonder I defeated you so easily. Next, I expect you will beg for your life.”