Alex Van Helsing The Triumph of Death - By Jason Henderson Page 0,67

rapidly, barely able to move her face. They each went to opposite ends of the raft and widened their arms. He felt the cold leaching his strength. “Pull this side, hard, on three,” he said, indicating his right. “One,” and he bounced in the air, “two,” and she did the same, “three.”

They plunged hard on the edge, pulling the ropes and lifting with their other arms, and the raft strained against them. Alex felt his toes going numb as the raft swayed on its edge, and then finally fell back. “We get in at the same time, you on that side, me on this side,” Alex said. “Throw your leg up.”

She copied his moves and they crawled up, icy water tugging at them.

Finally they lay in the raft, exhausted, looking into the sunrise, freezing water pooling around their bodies.

Exhaustion crept over Alex, his body shaking, his knees wanting to curl up. He pressed his forehead against Astrid’s for a second and they lay there, shaking.

Needing to keep going, Alex forced his chattering teeth apart and spoke. “This thing has paddles. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 23

The emergency hut on the Brough of Birsay was a government-maintained cabin attached to the lighthouse, and as Alex broke in, his body numb with cold, it seemed to him the most wonderful place he had ever seen. The hut was simple and unassuming, with cheap plastic furniture and linoleum tile, but it had a fireplace and kitchenette and even first aid supplies, rendering it perfect. It would make a good headquarters to begin their search for the remains of Allegra Byron. Somewhere on this island, John Polidori had secreted away a body. They had a day to find it.

Wearing one of the dirty pairs of overalls he had liberated for himself and for Astrid from a supply closet, he surveyed their tools. They had laid out the material from Astrid’s bag and Alex’s go package on a countertop in the small building adjacent to the lighthouse. A fire crackled in the fireplace now, where some of their clothes hung drying, and he hoped that the vampires surrounding the island did not have sentries out to see the smoke of the fire.

Astrid was chanting over a nearby table, rolling wax paper—also from the kitchenette—into small cartridges with each incantation. “How many can you make?” Alex asked.

“I can do about ten push-backs,” she said. “That will stagger someone back, knock them off balance. If we were facing humans I could make about three heart-stoppers; those are costly. But our foes don’t have beating hearts. I have my staff, which is silver, wood, and enchanted metal. I can do about four fireballs.”

“Those will help.” Alex stacked Polibow cartridges as he counted them. “I have four cartridges of sixteen bolts, eight glass balls.” Finally he set down the vial gun, which was open and empty, waiting for a vial of whatever agent he could place in it. Next to this were the two vials, each one half-full of holy water, still waiting for the active ingredient. “I should have raided the armory when I had the chance.”

She looked up, smiling at his disappointment. “When? When you were stealing the computer or when you were trying to talk them into opening up the door?”

He smiled back at her and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, I don’t think having a machine gun is what will make a difference. Okay. We have our weapons. Any minute now we’ll have our clothes.” He padded over to the fire in his bare feet and felt at his jacket, shirt, and pants. They were still damp. Out the window, the Atlantic Ocean pounded against the rocky cliff beyond the lighthouse, and a thick fog lay over the land. “I don’t feel any static. I think they were watching for air traffic, but they’re lying in wait now.”

He sat down in the blanket on one of the plastic chairs, leaning his shoulder against the table. “Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked her.

Astrid looked up from rolling her spells, stopping the chant she had just started. “Why?”

A teakettle sounded, and Alex started, and realized he was still jumpy. What he needed was more sleep, but there wasn’t time for that. The nap on the chopper would have to do. He went over to the stove and poured himself and Astrid a cup of tea with a couple of the tea bags he had found in the cabinets. “The Polidorium is already prepared for the next step. They’ve