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I spun and left them to it. But I resisted the urge to bolt after the children. It was better if I kept some distance between us, just in case the vampires broke through again.
Which they did.
And this time, they also shattered the light tube. As the light in the immediate area went out and darkness began to chase its way up the rest of the tubing, I spun and started to fire. Vampires screamed and went down, only to be replaced by three or four more. I kept firing until the weapons grew hot in my hands and the low-ammo light began to flash in warning. One weapon clicked over to empty. I flung it away, but before I could grab another, they hit me. We went down in a mass of screaming, biting, clawing flesh. I swore and fought with everything I had, battling to get one arm free so I could at least flick a knife down into my hand. But they grabbed it, tore at it, chewing at my flesh like dogs do a bone. I screamed and became darkness, hoping in that form I’d at least have a chance of escape. But they felt it and changed with me, and the attacks were somehow worse because it felt as if they were tearing me apart from the inside out.
Damn it, I wouldn’t die like this! I couldn’t do it to Cat and Bear and all my other little ones. I forced a hand through the stinking mound of flesh, pulled a gun free, and began to fire. There was no finesse, no aim; I just pulled the trigger and kept on firing. Bloodied vampire bits bloomed into the air, and the weight holding me down shifted. Not much, but enough. Energy surged from Rhea knows where, and I forced my way upright. I flicked the knife free and kept on firing as I slashed left and right, cutting limbs and faces and bodies. But there was no end to them; I would die here if I didn’t move.
The ghosts arrived, and vampires were picked up and flung away. “Thank you, thank you,” I said, then leapt over the pile of bloody, broken bodies in front of me and ran like hell.
This time, the line of ghosts didn’t hold very long at all. No matter how fiercely they wanted to fight, they were no longer flesh, and beings of energy could do only so much.
I kept on running. It was pointless doing anything else now. My trunk was a maze of bloody wounds, there were chunks out of my arms and legs, and my strength—like that of the ghosts—was ebbing. I needed to reach the sunlight. It was my only hope.
The vampires surged closer; the wind of their approach buffeted my spine, but I had no more strength, no more speed. I gripped my knife and gun so tightly my knuckles glowed. This was it . . .
They hit me. Again we went tumbling, but this time, I somehow twisted, firing nonstop at the stinking mass surrounding me. I hit the ground back first and slid several yards, firing all the while. Then the gun clicked over to empty . . .
Something whistled through the air, and a heartbeat later, light exploded into the tunnel. The vampires screamed and erupted into flame, their flesh becoming ashes that rained all around me.
Then a hand grabbed mine and hauled me upright. Jonas, I realized in surprise.
“What in Rhea—”
“Explanations can wait,” he said, voice tight. “The children are safe, and we need to run. That light bomb is only going to hold them off for a couple of minutes.”
As if to emphasize his words, the bomb’s light began to flicker and fizz. It was all the encouragement I needed. I ran as hard and as fast as I could. Jonas kept behind me, his hand lightly pressed against my back, as if to encourage even more speed from my aching, weary body.
We pounded around another long, curving corner. Up ahead, like a distant star, sunshine beckoned. We were close, so close, to safety.
Behind us, the light bomb went out, and the black tide was once again on the hunt.
“Faster,” Jonas growled. Despite the urgency in his voice, the pressure of his hand against my spine didn’t alter, though it must have been tempting to simply shove me.
But I had nothing left to give. My breath was little more than ragged gasps, every bit of me was bruised, bloody and sore, and I really had no idea how I was even managing to remain upright, let alone run.
But I didn’t want to die. It hadn’t been only my DNA that had kept me alive when the Draccid had killed everyone else—it had also been willpower. That same willpower was undoubtedly the only reason I was even functioning now.
Jonas began to fire over his shoulder. I kept my eyes on the ever-growing half circle of light, determined to reach it.
The wind of the vampires’ approach began to batter us. Jonas hissed, a sound filled with fury and no small amount of fear, but he kept his hand on my back, kept pushing, even though he could have so easily left me and saved himself.
A silhouette appeared in the bright circle up ahead. A heartbeat later, several flaming arrows shot past us and buried themselves in the flesh of the nearest vampires. They immediately exploded into fire, creating enough light that the mass behind them hesitated.
It was enough.
Jonas finally shoved me, and I went tumbling, rolling, into the sunlight. I came to a jarring stop at the edge of the old riverbed, and for several minutes didn’t move. I simply stared at the sun and sucked in its bright energy. Against all the odds, I’d saved the children and survived, and if I’d had the energy I would have whooped in sheer and utter delight.
Then a rush of dark air hit me, followed closely by the sensation of fury. The vampires had not finished with us yet. I somehow scrambled upright, my knives in my hand as I stood and stared at the sewer’s entrance. Jonas and Branna stood twenty or so feet farther up the embankment but far enough away from the entrance that the sun shielded them. Their bodies were tense and their guns raised. Nuri was farther away to my left, and the five children were with her.
A black tide of flesh spewed from the tunnel. They burned almost as soon as they hit the sunlight, but one or two broke through the gathering cloud of ash and ran at me even as their bodies exploded into flame and began to disintegrate. These ones, Jonas and Branna coolly shot.
Eventually, the tide became a trickle, then died. As the final gunshot rang out, I said, “Is that the last of them?”
“Not quite,” Branna said.
Then he looked at me and, in one smooth motion, lifted his gun and fired.
I threw myself sideways, but I was on the very last strands of my strength, and I simply had nothing left in the way of reflexes or speed. Even so, the bullet that had been aimed at my head tore through my right shoulder instead, spinning me around and throwing me to the ground. A second shot rang out, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the end to come.
