Raphael flowed through the door, following the stink of the other vampire's fear as he pounded up stairs and strode unerringly down halls, brushing aside the flimsy illusions that were all Pushkin offered in defense. The final door fell before him, revealing his enemy crouched fearfully within his stronghold, a young woman dead at his feet, her blood still running from the coward's chin, a last ditch attempt to buy strength enough to survive. Raphael regarded him with disdain.
"You thought to buy your freedom with such a meager life, Pushkin?"
The Russian vampire snarled like a trapped animal, pushing himself deeper into the corner, all semblance of human appearance gone, leaving only the beast within.
"You have forsaken your long life, old friend, but you may buy an ounce of mercy from me yet. Where is she?"
Pushkin's eyes widened and he began to laugh, his mouth gaping open like a fool. He stopped suddenly, madness in his eyes. “She is dead by now, my lord,” he said in a sly voice. His eyes cleared for a moment and he looked down at his bloody clothes, frowning without comprehension. When he looked up, he stared at Raphael as if wondering why he was there, before the madness took him once again. “Albin has killed her by now, her and your new lover. She escaped me the other night, but no longer. So sad, Raphael. Nothing left for you."
Raphael knew it wasn't true and still he howled with rage, his power throwing Pushkin down and crushing him to the floor as the traitorous vampire squealed in pain and terror. His limbs strained outward until his joints snapped with audible cracks of bone, and blood gushed from his body. Raphael drove a huge fist into Pushkin's chest and crushed his beating heart, holding the rebel's terrified gaze as, with a small exertion of his will, the heart burst into impossible flame. Pushkin screamed in agony as his body followed, incinerating from within, the fire spreading until nothing was left of the famed Pushkin but a pile of greasy ash.
Raphael stood, brushing his hands in disgust, his mind already reaching out, calling for the one who made his own blood burn.
* * * *
Cyn waited until Raphael's vampires were gone, until they'd all rushed off to do battle. Elke lingered a moment longer than the others, clearly torn between waiting for Cyn and the battle she could hear already underway. She paced back and forth, trading long glaring looks between the trees, where Cyn should have appeared by now, and the sounds of growing violence at Pushkin's lair in the distance. She finally gave a loud curse, threw up her hands in disgust and was gone, speeding toward her fellow vampires and the promised bloodshed.
Cyn gave her a two minute head start, which was probably not necessary, given the speed with which vampires moved. But she wanted no interference in what she was about to do. Vampire or not, she didn't need a f**king baby-sitter.
Taking the route through the trees she'd identified on her earlier reconnaissance, she followed the line of pale wall, barely visible now beneath the moonless sky. Water from the earlier rains dripped steadily from the leaves overhead, and the ground was soft and wet, pitch black beneath the thick branches. On the street far below, she could hear sirens winding up the hill, fading in and out as the fire trucks took the sharp curves leading to the burning house. The fire was a deep, steady rumble that shot gold sparks into the black sky. She circled around the house, glad for the dark night, stopping when she saw the red-tiled roof of the small guest cottage jutting over the wall. And then she waited, listening.
The darkness was alive as Raphael and his vampires swarmed the compound. The sounds of battle filled the air, the roars of angry vampires, grunts of pain and screams of terror, as Pushkin's cohorts discovered they were not the only, nor even the most dangerous, ones hunting tonight.
Cyn ran for the wall and leaped up to grip the edge, the Uzi riding her back as she spider-crawled to the top. She didn't pause this time, but rolled up and over, immediately dropping down to land behind the cottage with a jarring crunch that sent sharp spikes shooting through her shin bones. Once on the ground, she crouched, listening. Leaving her thermal goggles in place and bringing the Uzi down in front of her, she edged closer to the cottage wall and peered around it. The rear of the main house seemed deserted. Apparently, none of Pushkin's vamps had thought to make a run for it. Or maybe they hadn't had time to think about it before Raphael and his forces were upon them. She wondered if he'd destroy all of Pushkin's men. It seemed likely. Not that she cared either way, as long as that bastard Albin was one of the dead ones.
With a mental slap to the head, she focused her attention on her own situation. If Alexandra was still inside this cottage, it was unlikely she was alone. A quick scan of the yard showed nothing. Even a vampire showed on thermal. Not as brightly perhaps, but they registered nonetheless. She rounded the corner and started down the long side of the guest house, past the boarded up windows. She ducked quickly when she heard movement inside, a bare scrape of metal, nothing more. But it confirmed her suspicion that someone was in the cottage. She frowned. This was all a little too easy. Pushkin had to know by now that his plan had failed, so why wouldn't he have tried to hold Alexandra as a bargaining chip of some sort? A last ditch attempt to save his treacherous hide.
She inched up to the next corner and took a darting look out and back. The door had a single window, but no light was showing inside the cottage either. Damn. The vampires’ night vision gave them a distinct advantage. Her night-vision goggles helped, but left her incredibly vulnerable. If her enemy did something as simple as turning on a light, she'd be completely blinded. It would last only seconds, but seconds would be enough if a vampire was waiting inside. On the other hand, would they expect a human to come through that door? Raphael himself dismissed humans as useless even though he employed a number of human guards on his estate. She crept over to the entrance as quietly as possible and drew a deep breath.
Cynthia hit the door with her body, slamming it open and rolling inside in a single movement. As she rolled, she scanned the room. Two people, one large, one small. Correction. Two vampires, their eyes glowing hot. She kept moving, coming up behind a chair of some sort.
"Well, isn't this a surprise.” The voice sounded familiar. Cyn looked around the chair to see the larger figure reaching out. She braced for movement, recognized what he was doing and tore the goggles off just in time. The vampire hit the switch on a standing lamp, and a dim, yellow glow lit the small room.
"I'd really expected Raphael,” Albin said. “Though I must admit, Cynthia, I had hoped to meet you again before this was over.” He stood on the far side of the room, Alexandra half sitting on a rumpled daybed, her arm held in one of his thick, pale hands. The female vamp was gagged, her hands bound with wide metal bands linked to a heavy chain running to an eyehole bolt set directly into the concrete floor. The chain was long enough that she could reach what looked like a small bathroom in the far corner and a couple of feet in front of the bed, but little else. Heavy curtains covered the boarded up windows to the left and Cyn was crouched behind a large, overstuffed chair which was the only other furniture in the room.
"There, Alexandra, you see how little Raphael cares about you? He sends this puny human to rescue you, while he busies himself elsewhere."
After more than a week of imprisonment, the petite vampire was definitely worse for wear. Her elegant, peach satin gown was dirty and torn, the ruffles limp and the underpinnings ripped away. Delicate white skin appeared pasty and unhealthy rather than pampered, her face and arms bearing obvious signs of mistreatment. Her eyes, when she looked at Cyn, showed exhaustion and an almost confused fear, as if she couldn't imagine how this had happened to her.
"You seem to have recovered nicely from our encounter the other night, Cynthia,” the red-haired vamp said, drawing Cyn's attention. “I confess I'm happy to see it. I do like my toys to last a while.” He gave her a vicious grin. “I heard the explosion. Tell me, did Pushkin's grand plan work?"
Cyn stared at him. He stared back, studying her reaction. “No, I think not,” he said finally. “I told the Russian it wouldn't. But he dismissed me, just as Raphael did,” he added with a snarl.
"You know your problem, Albin?” Cyn interjected.
He gave her a look of mocking inquiry.
"You talk too much.” She whipped the Uzi up from behind the chair and emptied the clip into the big vampire, all but severing his head as he fell away from the horrified Alexandra. Cyn didn't wait, but ran over, stake in hand, and stabbed downward, taking the convulsing vampire in the heart. She stood and immediately moved back, uncertain of Alexandra, wanting to get beyond the chain's reach.
Albin's body decomposed with amazing speed. She'd seen Matias on the video playback, but watching it happen before her own eyes was incredible. There was no other word for it. She swallowed against the bile trying to choke her, then blindly ejected the empty magazine on the Uzi and slapped in a fresh one, before turning to Alexandra.
The female vampire had scooted as far away from Albin as possible, holding her skirts away from the gore in a fastidious movement that was completely out of place in the dismal cottage. Her dark eyes lifted to regard Cyn.
"Alexandra?” Cyn confirmed unnecessarily. She spoke in a low, soothing voice.
Alexandra stared blankly for several seconds. She nodded.
"My name is Cynthia Leighton, Alexandra. Raphael hired me to find you.” Alexandra's eyes closed in a slow blink, her chin dropping to her chest in what looked like relief.