Brave the Tempest (Cassie Palme) - Karen Chance Page 0,73

fluid arms just poured around the spears that had been pinning it down, and then slid off, leaving the vamps looking like they were trying to stab water. The latest version of the creature had also finally neutralized the old soldier, sucking him in and leaving him floating in the gelatinous mass of its body, unable to fight or even to move.

We were losing, I realized in shock. Two demigods, a consul, and a small army of senior vampires, and we were losing. How was this possible?

But it was, and I’d brought that thing here; this was my fault. I had to help, but I was out of power, to the point that I couldn’t even stand. I tried anyway, but only flopped back down, sliding in blood when my legs gave out from underneath me.

Billy popped up beside me as I stared at the battle helplessly. “Cass! What are you doing? They need you!”

I just looked at him numbly. “I don’t . . . have anything . . . left.”

“But I do!” he snarled, also staring at that thing. “Use it well, ’cause it’s all I got.” And the next second, I felt it—something like the outpouring of power that took place whenever I fed him to increase his stamina or range. But this time it was pouring back into me, a rush of strength, of life, that practically pulled me off the floor and onto my feet.

I felt Billy flow into his necklace to keep from fading, while I staggered and almost fell, my body trying to adjust to the sudden, dizzying return of power.

But not much of it. Billy was a ghost, not a god; he only had so much to give. But it was something, maybe enough for a single spell. Not a time stoppage; no way could I manage that. But maybe one of the easier ones—

My thoughts cut out and I hit the ground again as a blast of blood and body parts exploded through the air above me. The latest group of guards, I realized, as legs and arms and other things began raining down everywhere, battering me like fleshy hail. And then scrabbling around and kicking out after they hit the floor in a hundred squirming pieces, because they were vampire body parts, and they weren’t dead.

Not yet, I thought sickly.

But we were all going to be pretty soon, because this latest incarnation of the creature was laying waste.

Rafe’s beautiful sketches were splattered with gore as another wave of guards arrived—just grist for the mill. The guards couldn’t handle this any more than the regular soldiers could. Call the army, I tried to scream, but there was blood in my mouth, a great gout of it sliding down my throat, threatening to choke me.

I spat it out, but before I could try again, I saw Mircea yelling something at the remaining troops. I couldn’t hear him, but I didn’t have to. The gestures were eloquent.

And I suddenly realized that we had a bigger problem than I’d thought.

The tent city was just outside, filled with soldiers who not only didn’t have a demon partner yet, but in many cases weren’t even really soldiers. The blond musician whose thoughts I’d drifted through had been right. Many masters weren’t sending their best; they were sending those they considered expendable, the ones they didn’t care much if they never saw again.

And if that thing broke through a few more walls, they wouldn’t.

There was a good chance that the only reason the creature hadn’t gone after them yet was because it didn’t know where it was. It had been outside before, in the tent city, when it was possessing the redhead. It hadn’t been in here, and shifts tended to be disorienting anyway. It might not know how close it was to its former prey.

But any minute now, it was going to find out.

And then it did, because a bunch of soldiers decided to take a shortcut, tearing open a tarp rather than finding a door. I saw Mircea curse, and he must have sent a mental command—a harsh one, judging by how fast they tried to correct their mistake. But it was too late.

The creature turned, and for a second, I could see it clearly as it paused in shock at the sight of the flapping tarp and open air. And all those tents, arrayed in neat, orderly rows, just outside. Rows where an army of mostly non-masters were sleeping or playing cards, huddled out of