two.
The warrior in her wanted to shout out her triumph.
“Nobody could have deserved it more,” she called out, taunting the evil bitch.
“I’ll show you what you deserve!” Sylvie shrieked, throwing her hands into the air and then shoving them toward Ryan, who could feel the wave of magic even before she saw and smelled the stench of the dark shadows arrowing toward her.
“Nice try!” Ryan raised her own hands and built a wall of light with her mind a mere second or two before she built it in reality. The cloud of blood magic broke harmlessly against it like an ocean wave against a stone seawall. Even the rank stench dissipated.
“Good beats evil every time,” she shouted, laughing. “Now, let’s try this!”
With that, Ryan imagined a battering ram made of pure light and hurled it at the warlock, who watched, seemingly frozen with shock, only dodging at the last possible moment.
“Not so fast, Nephilim. I’ve been doing this far longer than you,” Sylvie purred, and then she started throwing spear after spear of magic, each more powerful than the last, at Ryan, who was using every ounce of her brand-new power to block them.
When Sylvie jerked her chin to the side, Ryan was too exhausted to even wonder why, until the zombies crashed into her from behind, taking her down to the ground, face first.
Suddenly, Sylvie was standing above her, and the last thing Ryan saw was the warlock’s boot coming for her face.
Behind her, Bram Stoker howled.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Bane saw Ryan go down, heard the dog howl when several of the undead started hitting him, and, still covered in the animated corpses attacking him, roared his fury out to the skies. Meara screamed and shot over to Bram Stoker, dealing destruction to the undead in her path, but more of them kept rising up out of the river, coming and coming and coming.
Bane spun in a 360-degree turn, slicing a pointed wave of magic around him as he went, decapitating and cutting any undead near him in half. Then he shot up into the air to go to Ryan, but another wave of necromancy smashed into him and knocked him back down.
“I expected more from a vampire who’s rumored to have defeated the Chamber before,” Constantin shouted, sneering.
A wave of black despair threatened to swamp Bane. Ryan was down. If she died…
If she died, the world could burn. A berserker rage rose in him and the tips of his fingers began to glow as red as he knew his eyes must be. The necromancers would die, now.
Everyone would die.
Before he could hurl the blast of power gathering inside him at the necromancer, Bane heard Ryan’s voice rise above the cacophony of the battle. “I’m fine, Bane. Kick his ass while I take care of this one.”
Relief and a fierce burst of pride swept through him and gave his magic far more power than he’d ever had before. He levitated up and up, until he was floating nearly six feet over the heads of the incoming dead.
“Oh, look, the vampire can fly,” Constantin sneered. “I don’t know why I was afraid of you. You’re nothing. You’re nobody.”
“Who I am is the vampire who’s going to kill you,” Bane told him, the fire of his rage amplifying his voice, until it boomed across the field of battle, making everyone freeze and look up at him. Then he smashed his magic out over the field in a bone-shattering wave that destroyed all the corpses between himself and Constantin.
Still more kept dragging themselves out of the river and onto the bank, though. More and more and more.
“You’re not powerful enough to defeat me,” the necromancer shrieked, forcing his magic into the dead, compelling them to do his bidding.
“You picked the wrong battle, necromancer.” Bane hurled a bolt of magic at Constantin and then shielded himself from the return shot. He leapt up into the air again, deflecting Constantin’s attacks, and sent another bone-crushing wave of power at the oncoming dead.
“There are more coming!” Luke shouted. “Look over there, behind the trees, in the direction of Bonaventure!”
Before Bane could locate the new threat, a roar like thunder preceded thirty or more motorcycles that poured into the driveway and yard. The Vampire Motorcycle Club had arrived—and they’d brought some of the werewolves with them. The vampires and wolves jumped off their bikes and started laying waste to the hordes of undead, smashing through them like the Georgia Bulldog offense on a really great fucking day.
Bane