Blood Rules (40 page)

562 didn't stop snacking as Gabriel turned around.

He witnessed vertical-diamond green eyes, and in spite of the different shape of them, it was the same gaze he'd looked into that night in the Badlands when, as a full werewolf, Mariah and the others had come to his rescue. Though he hadn't known what she truly was at that point, he'd recognized her then, and he recognized her now.

But this time, Mariah was even more of a monster. She was a visual echo of 562, smaller, though not by much. Her hair—the hair that had always caught his fancy with its sheen and sharp edges—was still red, not silver, and it dusted her entire body, even her four arms. Her mouth and pointed teeth were slightly smaller, too, and her body had more of a womanly shape—waist, long legs, breasts—than the androgynous 562's.

Yet there was an even bigger difference. Mariah wasn't attacking the dwindling number of Civils jostling past her.

Why? Didn't she have the same appetite as 562?

As her gaze landed on him, he saw and felt the truth in her—the numbness of finding out the worst about a parent. The disgust and refusal of what she was supposed to be.

She looked into his eyes and sent a thought to him.
Without an army of monsters, we can't get the bad guys.
Then, deep in her mind, he heard the screams of her brother and mother as the bad guys murdered them.

Revenge. That was what had always defined Mariah, and killing Civils wouldn't provide that for her. Funny how her idea of justice still overrode everything else in that new full-moon body of hers.

But was that only because she was holding on to the last of her humanity, just as he'd been doing after becoming a vampire?

Linked to her like this, feeling her pain, her own longings, Gabriel momentarily forgot about 562's blood, the yearning for a liquid that might be his own remedy, making him faster, better.

She sent another quick thought to him.
562's death might reduce me to something so primitive and weak I'll never survive in this world, Gabriel. Help me contain her/him before the Civils regroup and go after 562?

He didn't want their origin to be terminated, either—if it could even be killed. Not when he was so close to wherever it was he was meant to go.

But . . . somewhere in his mind, Gabriel knew that its death might make
him
human.

Wasn't that what he wanted more?

Wasn't
it?

As his and Mariah's link wound through him, a vine that would tie him up and never let go with its buzzing wisps of energy, he kept looking into her, seeing a trace of memory she hadn't meant for him to discover—the kick of his boot, the fall she'd taken because he'd wanted Stamp's blood more than he'd wanted her at that one, red-crazed moment.

The last of his humanity rushed back, nearly strangling him.

I'm sorry,
he thought.
I'll do anything to help you.

A screech brought Gabriel out of Mariah, and they both looked at 562, who'd spied a Civil chameleon woman pasted near the ceiling back near where Keesie was still lying. The chameleon was blending into the concrete, where she'd hoped to go unnoticed.

At the discovery, the creature scrambled downward, toward a cell—Stamp's—and tried to suck itself to skinniness, easing between the bars. 562 huffed out a wheezy-banshee breath, then bounded back to Stamp's cell, tearing off those bars just after the chameleon squeezed past them.

With a thrust of speed, Mariah shot past Gabriel. He took off, too, as if the connection were pulling at him. He stopped in front of the bar-gaped cell just in time to see the chameleon using Stamp as a shield from 562, whose tongue kept flickering out, trying to snag the Civil monster.

Stamp was dodging that tongue, but his dark eyes were glued to 562, as if trying to figure it out. As if thinking of a way to kill it—

Mariah and Gabriel didn't even have enough time to get 562's attention before it wearied of this game and darted out an arm, clawing Stamp out of the way, slashing one of his legs clean off.

In what seemed like a carnerotica slow-motion clip, Stamp's leg flew one way while he flew another, blood spraying like a dissipating bridge between them.

As the kid crashed into the wall, he screamed, holding what was now a stump. On the other side of the cell, the leg spilled gore, steel plates, and gears, some of which spun like dying toys.

Across the corridor, Stamp's partner screamed, too.

But all Gabriel recognized was the blood.

Everything became a red-tinged blur of action for him: 562's tongue snagging the fleeing chameleon and popping her into its mouth. Stamp crying out and holding his bleeding stump. Mariah's connection flaring in Gabriel as he stumbled toward Stamp.

But Mariah couldn't hold Gabriel this time as he readied himself to jump at the Shredder. It was like he'd never promised to help her when she needed it the most.

One of her four arms hit him with as much vigor as he'd kicked at her last night, but she was stronger than any vampire, and she knocked him to the opposite corner of the cell, where the stab of rejection weighed on their link, pinning him for a moment.

Her message had been clear—if he wasn't going to help, he needed to get out of there, before he became part of the problem. She couldn't have him around this time to bring her down....

As that returning shame mixed with his bloodlust, he could only watch as Mariah engaged 562, jumping at it, creating a whir of hair, claws, and teeth. After what seemed an eternity of screeching, 562 finally swatted its child away, and Mariah busted into a wall, creating a four-armed imprint.

But Gabriel didn't look at the damage for long. His attention was too consumed by a line of blood marking the ground, as if a fatally injured person had crawled away.

Stamp.

Instead of wondering how the Shredder had managed this feat, Gabriel crawled to the blood. He couldn't stop himself, and he pressed his mouth to the ground, to the red.

He moaned at the taste of his enemy.

Then 562 let out another screech, and it was so ear-piercing that Gabriel put his hands over his ears and cringed. When he glanced back at 562, he saw that Mariah was facing off with their origin, hardly giving up the fight.

But it seemed that 562 was done with sparring altogether.

As it looked at Gabriel, its red diamond eyes even seemed . . . exhausted. It didn't seem to understand why its children weren't cooperating.

His hands lowered from his ears as 562 sent him an image/ thought: a baby in a mother's arms because children were all 562 had ever wanted. Then, a picture of Gabriel drinking its blood, just like it was mother's milk . . .

But the tempting offer broke off as Mariah jumped at 562, swiping out with her claws with such speed that all Gabriel could see was red, teeth, waggling tongue, and arms.

As Mariah landed on her parent, driving it to the ground, 562 let out a series of whines, holding off the attack by pushing at Mariah's four arms with its own and avoiding her teeth. It was trying to connect with Mariah's eyes, beseeching her, but Mariah was on a mission, snapping at 562 while the bigger, older monster dodged, ultimately rolling Mariah over, then opening its own mouth and letting out a rattling roar.

It was angry at Mariah.
Too
angry?

“562!” Gabriel shouted. He didn't know if he'd said it to redeem himself with Mariah or to get his origin to come to him so it could make good on that offer of its blood.

But 562 was beyond sweet talk now, and as Mariah jabbed up with her tongue, as if she intended to choke 562 into submission with it, 562 lashed out with its own tongue, splitting it in two, wrapping it around Mariah's long appendage and holding it, as if ready to yank it out.

No—

The threat to Mariah overcame all else in Gabriel, and he reacted the only way a lesser monster could in the face of its stronger parent.

Mind freeze, just as the older vampires had been teaching him.

He conjured up power in his mind, and it swirled.

A cold blast of ice. That was what the other vampires had told him. He had to at least try.

“562,” he whispered, and it peeked over at him, its tongue still capturing Mariah's.

With every ounce of energy possible, he forced out what felt like a mental icicle, fast, hard—

He reared back, feeling as if he'd run into a black wall and chipped away at a small part of it, leaving mental debris to crumble over him.

562's vertical red eyes flickered under its hair, as if it were surprised.

His and Mariah's link joined up again as 562 seemed to realize what it was doing to Mariah, its child. Its tongue loosened from hers and fell away.

A panting Mariah peered at him from under the cage of 562's arms.
What did you do?

Something I shouldn't have.
562 was more of a parent than even his maker. He hadn't meant to hurt it.

As Mariah held still under 562, waiting to see what it . . . and maybe even Gabriel . . . would do next, he heard a sweeping sound in the cell. When he peered out of the corner of his eye, he found movement.

Shadows.

Within a second, the forms of several shadow people coalesced in his gaze. What were they doing?

The answer shaped itself gradually. They were wiping the floor of Stamp's blood, leaving behind a medicinal smell that made Gabriel's nose sting.

Then he heard Taraline's voice from the corridor. “562,” she said in that low, assuaging tone.

Gabriel couldn't believe it. The shadow people had come when most of the monsters had run. They knew that no preter was stopping 562 on its rampage, but maybe a different sort of defense could do it.

Mariah just stared with that half-human Kali face, the diamond-green eyes, the jutting teeth. He could feel that she wanted to scream at Taraline in warning, but for some reason, she wasn't doing it.

When the shadow woman came into the cell, Gabriel saw why.

She'd taken off her veil, and the sight of her tightened a vampire's throat.

Dymorrdia had stripped the skin off Taraline's head, nearly down to the skull, save for a few jaundiced patches. Her forehead and cheekbones were high, but her cheeks contained bones that had broken and shifted, small and piled upon each other like crisscrossing splinters. Her nose looked like an inward snout, but her eyes and mouth . . .

Those eyes were a watery, heartfelt blue while her mouth was perfect, pink-lipped and full. It was the eyes and mouth that told Gabriel just how beautiful Taraline had once been.

562 whimpered, and it was strange to see that sort of sound coming from a mouth with killer teeth and a face with a bloodred gaze.

Mariah still bided her silent time underneath 562 while it was transfixed on Taraline.

“Chaplin wanted to come to you, Mariah, but we told him we needed him to round up the vampires and other Reds down below,” Taraline said, obviously trying to reassure everyone while she also calmed 562 with her smooth tone.

Even in her monster body, Mariah's love and longing for her dog wavered outward, smacking against Gabriel.

“They were excited by all the blood,” Taraline added, “so my friends and I are cleaning it away. And one of us was in here to remove Mr. Stamp and his partner after his unfortunate accident. We still need to see if they have information about a government attack.”

Gabriel's fangs were long, his gaze reddened, even though the blood had been scrubbed away. “You need to get out of here, Taraline.”

562 puppy-dog panted, as if trying to get the shadow woman to come closer.

“No, 562 could use some soothing,” Taraline said. “So, actually, you two are the ones who should leave.”

Gabriel had met brave people who'd risked themselves for a higher cause before, like Zel Hopkins, and now Taraline joined their ranks as she walked to 562, just as if she weren't a bit afraid of the consequences.

He knew exactly what she was doing. She'd taken it upon herself to placate the creature by giving it another child. Or maybe Taraline had just chosen to take part in an exchange, and now was as good a time as any to do it if it assuaged 562.

562 held up all of her arms, welcoming Taraline, and it was almost beautiful to behold, a fan of silver-glinted limbs wavering with the grace of preter movement.

As the creature leaned toward Taraline, Mariah slipped out from underneath it, rolling away and arching her back as she balanced on all sixes.

Taraline offered the sacrifice of her neck while 562 tenderly laid its four hands on the shadow woman's arms. It bared all its teeth, giving Mariah the opportunity to slide over to Gabriel faster than even his vampire eyes could track.

He didn't know what was going on until Mariah touched his skin, imprinting, linking to him with such ferocity that he felt tunneled out, as if she were using all of him to fuel her.

His mind spun, because it didn't even feel like his own anymore. Mariah . . . becoming him . . . becoming his body, and now his brain . . .

She'd seen him stun 562 with his mind freeze, and she was making him do it again—but on her terms.

He was barely aware of 562 cupping Taraline's face, then bending to her neck as two long fangs flicked out from the center of its upper gums like lethal, slender needles, because Mariah joined with him full force, their link spinning, picking up speed, binding and blazing—

562 drank from Taraline as the shadow woman gripped two of her predator's free wrists. Her knees buckled, and she gasped in pain, sinking to the ground. 562 tenderly let her go, extending one of its long nails to slash into its own skin for a blood exchange.