Bryce intercepted me and stepped between us. He gave me his back and ran his hands over the muscles of Devereux’s chest.
‘Don’t look at her.’ He frowned. ‘Look at me. I told you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate. This is all your fault.’
Devereux rubbed his eyes. ‘What is this spell? You are not powerful enough to summon me.’
Bryce swung his arm flamboyantly in a wide arc, indicating the robed participants. ‘When you have the right bargaining chips, anything is possible.’ Then he hollered at Raleigh, ‘Now!’
Raleigh hit the ‘stop’ button on the CD player and the lullaby abruptly ended. I hadn’t realised how loud it had been – what a counterpoint the lullaby was to the chanting – until it was gone. I had a vague idea of what Bryce had in mind, but I couldn’t figure out anything I could do to help Devereux. Or myself. Part of me still couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
‘Raleigh, bring me one of the blood-sacks. Now! Move it!’
Raleigh, who enthusiastically enjoyed his role as Bryce’s flunky, smiled – or more accurately, leered – as he scurried over to the corner where Midnight, Ronald and Alan waited. He grabbed Alan by the neck of his shirt and pulled him to the edge of the circle, then dropped his head with a loud thump.
I was glad Alan was unconscious because that had to have hurt.
The bearded vampire with the sword reached his hand through the invisible entrance and mimed holding a curtain open.
Bryce seized Alan and dragged him inside, then picked up a ceremonial knife, an athame, which had been placed strategically in the ritual space. The confident, wicked smile on his face faltered as he darted a glance in Lucifer’s direction and found him standing. Moving towards us.
I wished there was a volume-control knob to turn down the chanters, because the repetitive sound was giving me a headache.
Devereux’s voice whispered in my mind, ‘Stand back.’
Bryce was distracted by Lucifer’s approach and finding the knife to bleed Alan, and he’d underestimated Devereux’s powers of recovery. He knelt down next to Alan, raised the athame and chanted some words in Latin. Before the blade reached Alan’s skin, Bryce was forcefully lifted into the air by Devereux’s arm around his neck.
The blade flew from Bryce’s hand and clattered to the floor. The two of them tore at each other, snarling and swearing. They levitated, then wrestled down to the floor, pounding on each other like human fighters on angel dust.
I stood frozen, feeling like a helpless idiot.
As Devereux and Bryce flailed they crashed into the chanters, who had nowhere to go because the circle was protected by its own weird forcefield. Apparently, the only way in or out was through the imaginary opening. The fighters struggled back to their feet, separating long enough to hiss and growl at each other.
Devereux spoke, deep and slow. ‘You are the mistake I have paid dearly for. It is finished.’ With a ferocious roar, he launched himself at Bryce and ripped his throat out.
Bryce crashed to the floor like a felled tree.
Blood spurted everywhere, drenching the circle. A sizzling sound, like butter in a hot pan, could be felt as well as heard. Faint static electricity raised the hairs on my arms and tiny sparks ignited around Devereux.
I pulled Alan as far away from the oozing blood as I could.
Although copious amounts of blood still flowed from the wound, the skin of Bryce’s throat had already begun to knit itself back together.
I shifted my eyes away from Bryce in time to see Lucifer plough into the circle and grab Devereux.
On a good day I was sure Devereux could hold his own against the ghoulish vampire, but he was weakened, and the outcome looked bad. Lucifer lifted Devereux into the air, holding him by his hair as he tried to sink his fangs into Devereux’s neck.
Bryce’s throat was healing so quickly he’d be back on his feet within seconds, and I didn’t think Devereux had a chance of fending off both his enemies together.
I cast around frantically, searching for anything I could use to help Devereux.
My eyes caught movement in the mirror. The waistcoated violinist, still holding his instrument and bow, was waving his arms excitedly to get my attention. He moved his mouth, offering more silent words, and pointed his bow at something on the floor.
My eyes tracked where he was pointing, but I didn’t see anything except the sword.
I glanced back at the image in the mirror; he nodded and mouthed, clear enough for me to understand, Yes! Pick it up!
The sword!
I really am dense.
What happened to the ZZ Top vampire who was guarding the opening?
I scooped up the blade, which was much heavier than I had expected. I intended to stick it in Bryce’s chest, because everyone knew you could kill a vampire by puncturing his heart. I hoped that wasn’t another movie myth.
Bryce’s neck was almost completely healed. He had just lifted his head off the ground when I brought the sword down, aiming for his chest.
I whacked his head off instead. This time the blood oozed instead of spurted.
‘Bryce!’ Raleigh screamed.
The collective gasp of the now-silent chanters made me raise my head. All their surprised eyes were on me. A few of the vampires moved a step forwards, as if they intended to take the sword away.
I didn’t care about that. My brain had clicked onto ‘automatic’. All I knew was that I’d missed my target. Before they could do anything, I raised the sword again and plunged the tip directly into Bryce’s heart, holding the hilt with both hands.
The Sword in the Stone in reverse.
In my prevailing shocked and traumatised state, that decision made perfect sense. I’d never again scoff at a story of a mother lifting a car to save her child. That was one heavy sword, but I’d wielded it like it was made of aluminium foil.
The electrical sensation increased and the sparks of light surrounding Devereux ignited with the sound of crackling fire. Bryce had said the blood was the final part of the ritual. He just never thought it would be his blood. But what would it mean for Devereux that the circle had been saturated with the thick red liquid?
He’d managed to prise Lucifer’s hands off his hair, but he wasn’t making much progress in getting free.
‘Kismet?’
I turned to find Alan sitting up, staring at me, his mouth open. He was still wearing the fake fangs. He shifted his eyes to Bryce’s body – both parts – then to the sword, then back to my face.
I could only imagine how I must’ve looked.
Well, I probably looked like what I was: a blood-soaked, traumatised, barefoot, ghost-seeing vampire slayer.
In my demented state, I wondered if I should add ‘vampire slayer’ to my business card, but then I figured it wouldn’t do much for my vampire therapy business.
I wasn’t even particularly surprised that Alan had rejoined the land of the living. Since Bryce had been the one to put the whammy on him and he was now undergoing an accelerated decomposition process, it made sense that Alan might be released from his evil eye.
It’s funny how lucid you can become in the midst of a psychotic break.
Bryce’s handsome face had regressed to his true age, and the massively wrinkled skin slowly began to crumble like ancient papyrus, exposing his skeleton. Chunks of his now-grey, brittle hair blew across the floor in the air currents caused by Devereux’s continuing struggle with Lucifer.
I turned towards my ghostly helper in the mirror and mouthed the words, Thank you. He bowed from the waist, raised his violin to playing position and moved the bow vigorously over the strings. I wished I could’ve heard the tune.
Apparently, seeing ghosts is another one of my skills. Who knew?