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“If things end up playing out the way we think they are, I wouldn’t worry about him disappearing.
He’s pul ed to this area. I worked up a quick profile based on everything we talked about. He’s probably feeling so much guilt over either fucking a hooker, or even thinking about it, that he’s compel ed to stay here. He’s constantly searching out his sire, and—in his mind—kil ing her over and over again. But because she’s a vampire, she can’t die and his subconscious knows that. So he has to strike again and again. In a sense, he’s trying to cope with a feeling of impotence since he can’t seem to strike her dead.”
I stared at Wade. “We real y need to talk more often. Crap, that’s good. And we are dealing with a priest.” I told him what Chase and I had found out about Charles Shalimar.
“That adds a whole new layer of guilt. I guess we’re good to go.”
I brought out several wooden stakes, handing him a couple of them, fixing several in my own belt. Then I handed him a cross.
“What the . . .? Religious objects don’t work on us.” He took the wooden T and frowned at it.
“What should I do with this?”
“Ah, it won’t work on you or me, but remember—he was a priest. He’s had a psychotic break.
The cross may very wel carry some impact with him since he is a believer and he sees himself. . ..
wel , hel . . . I don’t know exactly what he thinks he’s thinking, but it can’t hurt to try. The crosses won’t actual y hurt him, but he might think they wil . And that could buy us valuable time.”
“Bril iant. So, shal we?” He motioned to the gaping hole.
I flipped open my phone and cal ed Chase. He might be only a block or so away, but it was easier to cal than run over there. He answered. “Chase, Wade and I are headed down. I suggest you keep some of your men in the area for a while.”
“I’l stay myself. We’l be over in a few. And, Menol y—”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
I slid my phone back in my pocket and looked at Wade. “Time to go hunting, babe.” And I jumped into the hole, floating down, hoping that this time we’d successful y bag our quarry.
CHAPTER 21
The tunnels were becoming al too familiar. Old friends, almost, or rather—frenemies. They were comforting in their darkness, and I felt at home in the dusky passages, but they were also fraught with danger and my common sense kept me alert.
“I smel something,” Wade said. “Blood.”
I inhaled deeply and the coppery scent spread through my body. “Blood. Of course—he has to be covered with her blood. You didn’t see . . .” Visions of her mutilated body raced through my mind and I tried to shake them away. “He has to be covered in her blood. Fol ow the scent and we fol ow him.”
And so, silent, we tracked him through the tunnels. We headed in the direction of the passage where we’d found the shadow men, but fifty feet or so before the fork, the scent led us to the left wal of the passage. It was brick and seemingly solid. I frowned, running my hands over the aged tablets. And then I felt it—a thin line, running vertical y.
“I think I found it,” I whispered, keeping my voice so low that only another Supe could hear me.
Wade nodded as I traced my hand along the crack. It was in the shape of a door, and there must be a trigger stone. But as I felt for some indentation, protrusion, or other anomaly, a shriek behind us caught me off guard.
I whirled to find myself staring at a wispy cloud, tendrils emerging from a vaporous cloud that coiled like a serpent in front of me. Wade slowly turned, and I could feel him stiffen, staring at the creature. The tentacles of fog danced, serpentine in the darkness, glowing with a faint incandescence. They spiraled, reaching out to brush my face. I steeled myself, forcing myself not to move. Until we knew what it wanted, whether it would be friend or foe, I didn’t want to startle it.
The form stretched, writhing in the air, as if in slow motion, and brought one slow tendril around to hook over my shoulder. I didn’t want it to encircle my neck and quickly stepped back from the wisps of fog.
As I moved, there was a sudden hiss from the creature and the tendril that had been trying to loop around my neck lashed back, then whipped across my face, leaving a stinging slash.
Crap. Not good! I suddenly realized that, vampire or not, Wade didn’t have any formal training in how to fight. I’d have to protect him as wel as take care of myself.
But he surprised me. He did a quick cartwheel out of the way and came up in a crouch, reaching into his jacket for something. I didn’t have time to see what, but I decided that if the spirit could materialize long enough to touch me, I could touch it. I whirled, kicking toward the center, and was pleasantly surprised when my heel made contact. The cloud form moved back, just a little, but enough to tel me that we could fight it.
It was materializing even more as we watched. The vaporous shape was condensing, congealing into a creature right out of Lovecraftian nightmare. Hideous olive-green tendrils streamed out from every side—there must have been fifty of them. Visions of the Karsetii demon flashed through my mind, but this was no Karsetii. Ghost or demon—I did not know, but it was after us and that was enough for me.
As I tried to aim for the center, Wade darted in, a Taser in hand, and he managed to make contact. For a moment, the creature blinked in and out, then two of the tentacles snapped at him, knocking him back against the wal with a resounding thud.
