Unbitten (44 page)

Pierre and Roxanne had woken from their latest feed, having
also made love three more times. They were feeling languid
and intoxicated with newfound happiness. Pierre put his
hands over her ears to protect them from the ear-splitting
bird calls, then bent his head to kiss her.

“You raven-haired
goddess
,” he said.

Roxanne said nothing, but grinned at him.

They fell into another kiss–not one with any urgency
behind it, they were too sated for that, but a kiss of
love, of connection, of all the things neither of them had
had in their lives for a very long time, and were
astonished to have now, there in the dark forest on the
edge of the Château.

When the shrieking intensified, they both moved to peek out
between branches to see what was making that horrible
noise.

“What the fuck?” said Roxanne. They watched as
the witches continued their slow walk, calling and hooting.

Pierre shifted to a more comfortable crouch and turned in
the other direction for a moment.

“Shit,” said Pierre. “Maloney! Look this
way, towards the stable! He’s walking
along–see?–there, just on the edge of the
forest. Dominic’s probably right behind him.
I’m worried he’ll smell us. If the breeze goes
the right way, he’ll find us in a second.” He
cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, long and
slow.

Roxanne broke from the kiss, lifted her nose, and inhaled.
“I can smell
him
,” she said.

“Stay here,” he said to Roxanne. “I am
going to take care of those assholes,” he said, as he
moved some branches out of the way. He turned back and
looked at her, his eyes glowing, “I love you,”
said Pierre.

Roxanne smiled back at him. “Fucking watch what
you’re doing,” she said, affectionately.

He crawled out of the cozy bower and bounded towards
Maloney with lightning speed. When he got close, he
suddenly dove headfirst at Maloney’s ankles, biting
into one of them all the way to the bone, causing Maloney
to scream in agony.

The scream made the inside of Pierre’s head feel like
it was exploding, but still he used his hands to claw at
Maloney’s legs and held on with his teeth as Maloney
tried unsuccessfully to kick him free.

Dominic watched from the sidelines, as he usually did,
preferring not to get his hands dirty if it could at all be
avoided. He did not sense Roxanne. And he was distracted by
the witches, who kept walking, slowly, carrying the litter
with the body on it. The air had the strangest smell, he
thought.

Jo turned her attention away from the witches when she
heard Maloney scream. Over behind the stables, on the edge
of the forest, she saw Pierre–he was fighting with an
enormous man she had never seen before. She certainly
wasn’t glad to see him, but at least Pierre had his
hands full and had not noticed her. Her focus was on
Callie, if that’s whose body that was, and she walked
more quickly towards her and the witches.

Henri watched and waited in the shadows. He had been
following at a distance, trying to figure out how he could
get Jo to listen to him, to believe him when he explained
that all his kind were not killers, and that even the death
of Callie Armstrong had been a terrible accident.

Having no idea that Pierre had ever attacked Jo, Henri
wanted to give Pierre some help, but Pierre seemed to have
that mammoth beast in hand. The witches–who knew what
they were capable of, or what they wanted? They had
bothered Jo once before, and Henri was ready to spring
forward and protect her if need be.

Roland had run up to the corner of the stable and was
staring at the witches, trying to catch his breath. Tristan
was back on the path, walking closer, deliberately not
rushing. Whatever was unfolding here, and it appeared to be
quite an unfolding, required cool heads and rational
action.

Pierre wanted Dominic and Maloney out of Roxanne’s
life, and he fought like a vampire possessed.

He flipped Maloney onto his back and sprang into the air to
jump on his chest.

Dominic deeply regretted leaving whipster behind. Things
were looking bad for Maloney and he was going to be forced
to step in. He surged out from the trees, surprising Pierre
and grabbing him around the neck.

Roxanne had been watching the fight through a space in the
branches, and when she saw Dominic get his arm around
Pierre’s neck, she burst through the roof of the
bower and sprinted to where the three of them were tumbling
together on the ground.

“Hey asshole!” she screamed, and Dominic
whirled around, at first startled, but then grinning to see
that it was Roxanne. He shot his arms out to grab her,
letting go of Pierre.

Pierre came back at Dominic, yelling, “Don’t
touch her!” He reared his head back, showing his
fangs, snarling.

Roland, who had been straining to see in the murky
darkness, saw the fangs. Quickly he crouched down on one
knee, loaded a stake, and aimed the launcher.

But Maloney, smiling, came up behind Pierre and the two
were wrestling, tumbling over one another, and Roland could
not get a clear shot. Maybe they are both vampires, he
thought hopefully, and it won’t matter which one gets
the stake. Dominic and Roxanne were rolling around on the
ground as well, Roxanne fighting as dirty as she could:
pulling his hair, kneeing him in the balls, and putting her
mouth over his ear and screaming at the top of her lungs,
the noise on his sensitive vampire ears making him go limp,
at least momentarily.

The witches kept walking forward as though the fight taking
place nearby held no interest for them whatsoever. Their
bird calls were forming into a sort of song, a harsh melody
with a repeating chorus, building in intensity and volume.
The swans from the lake had swooped down and were following
behind them.

When Maloney and Pierre, growling, broke apart for a
moment, Roland seized his opportunity. He let fly the
first-ever stake from the new launcher, piercing Pierre
straight through the heart and turning him, instantly, into
a pile of ashes. The heavy smell of decomposing roses
filled the air.

Roxanne leapt up, shaking off Dominic, and ran to the spot,
staring, disbelieving.

Maloney ran to the ashes and looked down, and then lifted
his head and roared, angry to have been cheated out of the
rest of the fight.

Overexcited from killing his first vampire, Roland let fly
another stake. His aim was perfect. The stake hit Maloney
right in the chest, and he looked down at it curiously, as
though he had just felt a tickle. He staggered a few steps,
then staggered towards Dominic who ran up to him, and held
him despite the risk of more flying stakes, murmuring to
him, and tried to drag him into the privacy of the forest,
forgetting all about Roxanne for the moment.

David had come down the gravel path, also drawn by the
piercing cacophony of the witches, but when he saw Roland
with his launcher, he went around the other side of the
stables and faded quickly into the forest. He was
interested in the witches, but not that interested.

Henri was running full-out for Jo. When he saw Roland fire
the launcher, he bounded towards her, making inhuman,
undisguised vampire leaps, intending to take her to safety
whether she wanted him to or not. It was Henri himself who
was most in danger from the stakes, but he was not thinking
about that. He had to get her away from all of it–the
witches, the dead body, the unpredictable Dominic, and the
flying stakes–and he had to get her away
now
.

“Stop!” said Tristan to Roland. “Hold
your fire!” He caught up to the younger man and put
his hand on the launcher, aiming it to the ground.

Roland was panting with excitement. “I want to get
them,” he growled, trying to raise the launcher up
again. “All of them!”

“We don’t know who’s who!” Tristan
shouted.

The shout seemed to break Roland out of the sort of trance
he had been in, and his arms relaxed.

“I got one,” he said. “Did you see the
pile of ash? Did you hear that weird
click
, when
it happened?”

“Yes,” said Tristan, his expression admitting,
for a moment, that it had been an astonishing turn of
events. “But we must be cautious. We don’t have
any idea who that other man is that you shot. You’ve
got to settle down!”

“Yes, sir,” said Roland, getting more control
over himself. He looked guiltily in the direction of
Maloney, but he wasn’t able to see into the forest
well enough to make him out.

“Damn this cloud cover,” said Roland, just as
it lifted, and everyone was briefly lit up by moonlight.

“What is on that litter?” asked Tristan, and he
began to walk slowly towards the witches.

Jo had reached the witches, but they did not stop walking,
so she followed alongside, looking at the pale body on the
litter. She felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, sorrow for
this poor girl whose life had ended in such a horrible way,
and who was now nothing more than a plaything for these
strange creatures from the forest.

“This is Callie?” Jo said to the witches.

They increased their keening calls.

Henri ran up to her, panting, and said “Jo!”
Come with me!" and he held out his hand.

“Not bloody likely!” said Jo. “And by
that I mean, when hell freezes over!”

“Jo!
Come with me!
” pleaded Henri. He
took her by the elbow and pulled, but she wrenched away,
glaring at him.

With Tristan’s calming influence gone, Roland brought
the launcher back up. He felt such a powerful urge to make
more piles of ash that he could not stop himself. Looking
through the sight, he aimed at what he thought was Dominic,
in the trees.

“
THWANG
!” was the
sound the stake made as it was launched.

There was a slight break in the clamor of the witches, and
Jo heard the stake, and she looked, and saw it embed in a
tree not far from where they were standing. It made a loud
thock
as it hit the tree.

Stakes. Vampires.
Jo knew whose life was in
danger, and it wasn’t hers.

She sprinted straight towards Roland, Henri shouting at her
to stop.

Roland was sliding another stake into place. He was
feverish in his desire to stake another vampire, to see
that unbelievably satisfying pile of ashes form at the
instant his shot connected. His hands shook as he drew the
launcher up and squinted into the sight.

What he saw was a jumble. The witches, straight ahead,
carrying their litter; Tristan, nearly reaching them,
walking straight towards Henri–Henri, Marquis de la
Motte, brother to a known vampire, almost certainly a
vampire himself. Roland pictured that pile of ashes once
more, and without allowing the blur coming at him to
distract him from his shot, he released the trigger, and
THWANG
another stake flew.

Then bedlam. Jo spun to one side and fell to the ground;
Roxanne was on her knees, filling her hands with
Pierre’s ashes and rubbing them on her face; Henri
was leaping to where Jo lay. Tristan running towards
Roland, his face grim.

And all during, the witches continued their cries, their
calls, their raucous hoots.

Henri knelt next to Jo, and saw the pool of blood at her
side.

“My love,” he said, tearing off his shirt and
trying to stanch the wound.

“Get…away…” she murmured, her
eyes closing. “Get
somewhere…safe…”

Henri moved his body so that it was between Roland and Jo,
although he realized that if he got hit, he would be no
help to her then. He stroked the hair back from her face,
and murmured to her that she was going to be OK.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, feeling a
surge of power and fury course through his body, an animal
response to seeing the woman he loved shot down, bleeding,
unconscious. “I’ll be right back.
I
promise,
” he said.