The kukri bit deep, spattering the concrete with black ichor that used to be blood, chopping into her leg at the knee.
She dropped, screaming, though he had to admit that she sounded far more pissed than hurt. Still kneeling, Masters straightened up to look into her disfigured face, and he managed a sneer through the pain he was feeling.
“You’re one ugly bitch.”
He almost shut his eyes when he saw the look on her face, knowing that he was going to pay for that little comment. He didn’t so much as blink, though, when the blow landed on the side of his head — he just rolled with it to reduce the impact as best he could. He still saw stars, however, and black spots danced across his vision.
“That the best you can manage?” he slurred out. Note to self: Get checked for a concussion if you live.
She snarled, any hint of intelligence gone from what remained of her face, and he grinned despite himself. He couldn’t help it, it was a slip to be sure, but before she could make anything of it, the vampire’s eyes widened in shock as three inches of steel emerged between her breasts courtesy of Alexander Norton.
Unfortunately for both of them, the blade cleaving her heart had little more effect than the bullets had, and as she wrenched about, it was torn from Alex’s hands.
“You filthy, insignificant, pest!” she roared, batting him aside. “I’ll bleed you all! Do you hear me? I’ll bleed you all!”
Masters lunged for the handle of Norton’s knife, intent on twisting it in the wound. It was the only thing he could think of now, as they’d literally tried every other option they had, given their resources. As his hand grasped the hilt, however, she twisted again and smashed a backhand blow into his chest that lifted him from his feet and sent him flying across the room, right into the coffin that was the centerpiece.
“I am all right,” Hannah mumbled, shaking off her companions’ grip as she regained her feet and balance. The power in her voice was gone, as was the glow from her eyes, but her mind was clear, and she didn’t think anything was broken.
“Are you sure, Han?” Perry asked, concerned.
Hannah had come to the lodge at a young age, delivered through ice and sleet by…well, by an unusual sort. The lodge members, vagrants that some of them might be, had taken her in, and they’d all taken a shine to the girl. She was everyone’s younger sister, so to speak, for all her power and connection to the gods.
“I am sure,” she said, straightening as she eyed the situation.
It was far from good, clearly. The vampire was little affected by any of the weapons they had on their side, and even The Black himself hadn’t been able to do more than antagonize her. It had been the soldier, oddly, who’d done the most damage by taking her arm.
Zero-generation vampires, the originator of the curse, were monsters beyond the ken of most mortals, even those who crossed the veil with relative impunity. They were ravenous, nigh unstoppable, and only the fact that they were generally limited to extremely small areas of influence kept them from waging utter destruction on the world.
She wiped her mouth, clearing it of either blood or drool — honestly she didn’t know which — and focused on the situation at hand.
When the vampire struck Masters aside again, Hannah was granted a clear line of sight, and she refocused her mind and soul on the mission at hand. Her eyes changed to a solid icy blue, patterned like the deep ice of a glacier, and she touched two fingers to her third eye, then to her chest before extending them toward the target and incanting a command.
“Freeze.”
The air between her and the vampire roiled as condensed moisture was turned directly to ice crystals, forming a thick trail of mist that connected her to her foe. The deep-level command tore into the vampire, freezing her from the inside out as she stumbled under the assault.
Unfortunately, like everything else they’d tried, what worked on weaker members of the breed had far less impressive effects on the progenitor. The vampire twisted, glaring at Hannah from across the room, and hissed in anger.
“Haven’t learned yet, little priestess?” she asked, mocking. “You don’t have the power to stop me.”
“Perhaps not,” Hannah admitted through gritted teeth as power reverberated through her voice. “However, I will deeply enjoy trying.”
The two began to stride toward each another, only to be startled and stopped by a flash of light from one side that nearly blinded them.
“You know what, bitch? You’re really treading past the limits of my medication.” A tired voice said from one side.
Harold Masters groaned as he tried to peel himself off the coffin he’d been smashed into — every extremity of his body either ached or was worryingly numb. He rolled over, pushing himself up off the wooden box, glaring at it as though it were to blame for his current situation. Perhaps, in a bizarre way, it was.
The lid was still open from when Alex had tried ending the fight before it began, and he found himself looking down into the dirt-filled interior, eyes falling on the severed arm that was resting inside.
Crazy.
He felt like throwing up, but he suspected it had more to do with a concussion than the smell of the decomposing limb. In either case he forced himself upright and took a breath of fresher air before looking back down again. A memory flashed, something Alex had said, and he stared at the limb resting in the dirt for a long moment before a thought came to him.
He reached into his kit and drew out a flare in one arm and an incendiary in the other. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath and move, but he pulled the pin on the incendiary grenade and palmed the spoon even as he looked up to see the vampire and Hannah about to go head to head.
Masters slapped the flare down against the coffin, red flame erupting as the igniter flared, casting shadows throughout the building. With the flare in one hand and the grenade in the other, Masters glared at the vampire.
“You know what, bitch?” he asked tiredly, feeling the weight of the day’s work pressing down on him. “You’re really treading past the limits of my medication.”
The vampire turned to glare at him. “You wait your turn, pest. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll just cut the line.” Masters forced a grin, though he felt more like puking as the world spun around him. He lifted his hands, letting the spring pop the spoon on the thermite grenade.
The room went deathly silent as everyone stared at the explosive in his hand, and those who really understood what they were looking at began to fall back from him. His smile turned more genuine when he saw the two Asatru soldiers grab Hannah by the shoulders and drag her against her will.
“What do you think you’re going to accomplish?” the vampire hissed, clearly confused as Masters dropped the grenade over his shoulder, then slammed the coffin lid shut before he walked away.
“Do you know what thermite does to dirt?” he asked calmly, wondering in the back of his mind if he was going to get to a minimum safe distance. Honestly, he didn’t have a clue; as confused as his head was at the moment, he could barely keep one foot moving in front of the other.
The grenade exploded behind him, sounding more like a whooshing noise than the lethal crump he associated with antipersonnel explosives. He flinched as the heat washed over him, knowing that he was closer than he should be, but when nothing he was wearing caught fire he decided that diving to the ground would be superfluous.
“The same thing it does to everything else,” he answered his own question, noting with satisfaction the look of horrified rage on the vampire’s mangled face. “I’m sorry, did you need that?”