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His take-down would be a pleasure for Miller, a personal coup as well as a plus for the good guys.
The Brit was here with the Amazon because a caller had tipped off the army, saying a bunch of vamp blokes were sweeping through this Northern California countryside. Matty, busy elsewhere, relayed the message to Kole who assigned Galena and him to check out the intel. After stalking the vampires for miles, they were sidetracked by four hellhounds who had surrounded a human. Dispatching those beasts, they ran across the harpy. In the meantime, the vamps had raided several farms before this one. No one left breathing.
Miller whispered, “A plan would be good, luv. Ideas?”
Galena tapped her D-chip, calling for backup. She sent their coordinates. “Help is on the way. Too many bloodsuckers for us to tackle alone. Besides, we can’t risk Lort escaping.”
“Agreed, but look what I see.”
Galena followed Miller’s pointing finger. “A church. So what? You suddenly got religion?”
He smirked. “Behind it. A graveyard.”
Miller closed his eyes, his chest heaving while he concentrated. A chill ran up Galena’s arms when he fed on her to gather power for a spell. A dust cloud formed in the cemetery. It crossed the deserted highway. Moving through the dried cornfield, it bent stalks. When it rolled into sight, fifty or more corpses walked. Actually, they shuffled. The long-dead were nothing but bones draped in tattered rags. The newly departed wore in-tact pants or dresses, rotting flesh an accessory.
“That’s creepy,” said Galena.
He grinned. “I know, but I work with what I’ve got.”
The trampling of feet eventually caught the attention of the Arisen Dawn vampires. They stopped their little tete-a-tete, twisting toward the shrieks and loud keening moans from the advancing corpses.
“What the fuck?” shouted Lort.
Miller sent a silent attack order to the conjured dead, who were surprisingly quick. Despite limping. Dragging. Stumbling. “Should we join them?” he asked.
“I’m going to have nightmares for years.”
“Don’t worry, luv. I know just how to comfort you.”
Galena checked the ax at her belt, raised her shield, and gripped her short spear. “Let’s do it.”
Miller clasped a gun in one hand, his sword in the other. “Ready.”
When the graveyard army surrounded Lort along with the other bloodsucking lads, Miller and Galena raced from cover. Firing off shots, he dropped two soldiers. With his blade, he took down another. The Blood Coven warlock ran an obstacle course through the dead toward Cerberus’s general.
The vamp was busy fending off several of Miller’s risen. Lort’s blade couldn’t stop the attackers, his fangs were useless, and a booted kick to the knees of one only set his opponent back temporarily. The general was up shit creek in a leaky boat. Needless to say, he had no oars.
Since Miller wanted to finish the job himself, he called off his zombie guys to greet the general. “Hey, arsehole.”
Lort turned, a smile stretching his thin, cruel lips. “I should have kept you locked up.”
“Hindsight is a bitch.” Miller holstered his gun, ready to go blade to blade with the Arisen Dawn vamp.
Lort thrust his weapon. Miller blocked the attack with a parry, launching himself at his opponent. The general side-stepped the assault.
Happy his throwback aristocratic father had insisted on sword instruction, the Englishman matched blow for blow, assessing his attacker with each move.
Lort was good. Not excellent. Strong. Intelligent. But impulsive. The Blood Coven warlock used the intel. As the general came in for an overhead strike, Miller mirrored the action. Instead of slashing downward, he threw a kick to Lort’s groin. Nothing said loving like a foot to the boys. British intelligence had taught Miller one thing well. Fight to win, not to score fairness or finesse points.
Lort jumped away, hunching over in pain. Nevertheless, he protected himself by swinging his sword in an arc. A lucky swipe caught Miller’s upper bicep.
With blood dripping from the Brit’s wound, Lort’s eyes went red and fangs filled his mouth. He licked his lips as if Miller was a frosty pint on a hot day.
Not happening. Time to let Daddy’s lessons pay off.
Miller lunged, arm out straight, driving the vamp backward. He followed through with a downward slice. The general tried to fend off that move but took a hit to the leg. A deep cut. Lort stumbled, allowing Miller an opening. His blade entered the vampire’s chest, sliding into his heart.
Cerberus’s general dropped his weapon, disbelief clouding his eyes, his hand clawing at the wound. Staggering, he fell to his knees, echoing Cerberus’s dying words. “This isn’t my destiny.”
