Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3) (6 page)

I had a moment of blind, gut-wrenching panic, then the hot red haze of Laclos’ presence was gone as my Sense snapped back to my immediate surroundings. Probing gently, I came up with nothing, and relaxed slightly. He wasn’t here, then. Not yet. But I was sure he was coming. I looked at Cain, who seemed unperturbed.

‘Best keep away from the windows and fire escape,’ he shrugged.

He turned back to the food, though as he did he tugged at the gun in the small of his back, freeing it slightly, making it easier to pull out. I looked at that, and all that silver, and thought maybe he genuinely wasn’t worried about Laclos attacking, but he was certainly prepared. I closed my eyes again. My Sense can be an early warning system, but it’s not perfect, and it’s not a radar. I was trying to get better with it, to control it more and increase its range, as at the moment it could easily be overloaded or fooled, and I too often failed to pay attention to what it was trying to tell me until it was too late. So I rolled it out again, carefully, shutting out the distraction of Cain, that black hole against my Sense, his power too strong and immense for me to read, and the white noise of the city beyond my walls. I tried to focus on Laclos, to pinpoint him, but it was difficult: my Sense usually reacted so positively to his presence – sometimes, embarrassingly so – that it was hard to latch onto this new malignance. But I could feel him, Sense him, his hunger and his fury…

‘Jesus. He’s moving fast, Cain, and he’s getting closer. Fuck, he’s…’

My voice cracked as Laclos’ madness washed over me like heat from a furnace, and I barely had time to duck, pulling Cain down with me, as my back door exploded, sending shards of wood and glass flying like shrapnel from a bomb blast. When I looked up, the wall behind where we had been standing was pelleted and pocked, splinters embedded in the plaster.

Cain shoved me roughly under the kitchen table and stood up to face the man who towered in the ruins of the doorway like some dark, vengeful god. Laclos surveyed the room with wild eyes, his gaze skittering over me, then without a sound he launched himself at Cain, hands clawed in front of him. Cain didn’t flinch, but at the last minute he stepped sharply aside, grabbing hold of one of Laclos’ arms and using the vampire’s own momentum to swing him, hard, into the front of my fridge. I let out an involuntary whimper – my lovely, huge, American-style fridge that I had spent months saving up for now had a man-shaped dent in the front, as Laclos hit it with metal-crumpling force, his arm sizzling where Cain’s rings had touched flesh, and he bounced off the door and fell to the ground with an animalistic grunt. But barely was he on his feet than he flew at Cain again, this time landing a punch that would break a human neck. As Cain’s head snapped back, his expression stunned, Laclos leapt into the air with a vampire’s grace and, in a move I’ve only ever seen in movies and assumed was done with wires, he folded both of his legs in front of him as he jumped then kicked out, hitting Cain squarely in the chest with both feet before landing, silent as a cat, crouched for action as Cain crumpled in half, slammed back into the counter by the force of the impact. As Cain went down, Laclos moved in for the kill, but Cain lashed out with a kick to the side of Laclos’ knee that audibly broke bone. There was a sickening crunch and Laclos tilted as his leg gave way, but he reared up with a head butt that caught Cain right in the guts. It was an ugly, flailing scrap and I could do nothing to stop it, terrified of getting in the way: one stray blow from either of them could have killed me. Cain had grabbed a fistful of Laclos’ hair now, an inelegant, clumsy move, but as he coiled it around his fist, pulling Laclos’ face close, the silver on his rings burned Laclos’ cheek and the vampire let out a roar of pain and wrenched himself backwards, pulling free, leaving Cain in possession of a handful of those dark locks.

The anger in the room was almost palpable as the two men fell apart and squared up again, circling one another like wary animals. I felt useless, huddling like an idiot under the table, but it was clear whatever was happening had gone beyond my intervention, and all of our weapons other than Cain’s gun were in the other room. I hoped the fact that he hadn’t just shot Laclos outright was a good sign.

Laclos, eyes bright, fangs bared, looked unmarked by our last encounter, but for all that he was barely recognisable as the man who only days ago had kissed me in this very room. His chest might have recovered from the sword but his t-shirt hung in tatters, his hair was wild, standing up in clumps where Cain had pulled some out at the roots. He was leaning heavily on his good leg, clearly not healing as well as he should, and there were vivid red burns on his arm and face where Cain’s silver had scorched his skin. His glance flickered down to me, something in his expression shifted, and he seemed to pull some internal resource from somewhere and stand up, straighter, making a visible effort to calm himself, to at least assume the veneer of the Laclos that had been. After a long, ragged moment, he forced something like a smile, his voice brittle, and cast an apologetic look in my direction. Not that I was planning to come out from under the table any time soon.

‘Obviously, darling girl, I plan to pay for the door,’ he said, which was so unexpected I actually laughed, and Cain straightened from his fighting stance, watching Laclos warily. Had it worked? He’d stabbed him, burned him and broken his bones – was that enough to make him use up Cain’s blood in self-repair? But my Sense was still cowering, and I saw Laclos’ gaze slide between Cain and the hole in the wall where my door used to be, and realised he was contemplating not attack, but escape. All I Sensed from him was madness – hunger and fear and a twisted form of lust, but I was shocked to realise the fear was winning. Not just because he was scared of Cain – and in that moment, he truly was scared of Cain, in a way he never had been before – but because the creature that Laclos had become, howling beneath his usual urbane façade, was terrified of itself. Cain seemed to pick up on it too, because he appeared to relax, leaning back against the kitchen counter, regarding Laclos casually, as if he hadn’t just ripped a clump of his hair out, though there was a slight tension to his movements that made me realise that kick to the chest had hurt him far more than he let on.

‘Gotta say, fangs, I was a little disappointed by how easily you fell for that whole routine last night,’ he said, almost conversational. A nerve jumped in Laclos’ jaw, but he smiled, pleasantly.

‘Yes, I admit I allowed wishful thinking to overcome my better judgement. Rest assured I won’t make the same error twice.’

Great. Seems even batshit crazy Laclos couldn’t resist bad guy banter.

‘Fair enough,’ Cain nodded, as if they were just a couple of guys, shooting the breeze over a couple of beers. Then he tilted his head and looked up at Laclos with a glance that was almost coy, but his smile was a razor, and my Sense recoiled. ‘But we both know you want me so much right now you can barely stand it. So what’s stopping you? Big bad vampire, top of the food chain. You’re a predator, right? And I’m right here.’ Then, as if mocking Laclos’ trademark gesture, he opened his arms wide, a welcoming Christ. Laclos’ eyes narrowed, and I saw specks of blood on his lips where his fangs had gone through skin. If he was a dog he’d have been drooling, but it would have been one of those terrifying Rottweiler types, ready to take your hand at the wrist because you’re offering a juicy steak. Something in him was perfectly aware he was being goaded, and he knew that Cain knew he knew that; but Cain’s smile was a threat and an invitation, the challenge of a trap you know is there but can’t resist.

‘Not gonna lie to you this time. I’ll fight you. I’ll hurt you,’ Cain’s smile widened, and I felt a hot pulse of hunger from Laclos, so fierce that it felt physical. ‘But let’s not insult one another by pretending you won’t enjoy that. Do you know why my blood is doing this to you, vampire?’ he asked, his tone light. Laclos, somewhere beyond speech, made a noise of curiosity. ‘Because it’s taking you back to ancient times. To what I was. To what you were. Unfettered by civilisation, taking what we wanted, just because we wanted it. It reminds you of who your species is meant to be.’ He smiled. ‘So I imagine you’re about 10 times as strong as I am right now. Drained as you are.’ His voice turned to a low rumble, caressing the next word. ‘
Hungry
as you are.’

Laclos flinched, and flecks of blood blossomed in his eyes. He was fighting this. I could Sense some inner keening as the last part of who he was scrabbled at the walls of what he had become. But his gaze followed Cain’s hands, like a man trying to spot a trick, as Cain reached behind him and pulled one of the knives from the wooden stand on the countertop.

‘Don’t worry. It’s steel, not silver,’ he assured Laclos, then to both of our astonishment he ran the blade lightly across his wrist, and Laclos’ hands clenched into fists as a line of red bloomed there. Cain lifted his wrist to his mouth, running a tongue pensively along the wound, pulling a face at the taste.

‘Can’t say I get the appeal,’ he muttered, shrugging. Then he slid his arm over his face, smearing it with blood, and flashed a crimson-stained smile at Laclos, before holding his wrist out, as if for his inspection.

‘This is what you’re after, right? This is what you want from me? So why don’t you come and try to take it.’

And he grinned that scarlet smile, and what was left of Laclos snapped.

***

He flew at Cain with a feral roar, hands clawed in front of him. Cain, expecting the attack, simply leaned back from it, reaching up and grasping Laclos’ face in both hands, silver scorching skin. For a moment, they seemed suspended, a tableau that almost looked tender. Then Cain jerked his hands sharply to the right, there was horrifying crunch of gristle and bone and Laclos, neck broken, fell lifeless to the floor. I gasped, my hand to my mouth, but Cain looked down at the body at his feet with an exasperated shake of his head.

‘Wow. I really did
not
think he’d fall for that again.’

***

He reached down to me and helped me up from under the table. I was trying not to freak out. He’d promised me he wasn’t trying to kill Laclos, and I didn’t want to lose it again, but the crumpled, broken thing on my floor looked pretty damn dead, and my Sense was no use to me. The shock of what Cain had done had hit me like a blow, so I was shaking as I stood, but it had overloaded my Sense like a surge on a circuit, and I felt shorted out. Cain cast me a sympathetic look and sat me down, pouring us both a glass of wine, stepping over Laclos – Laclos’ corpse? – as casually as you’d step over shit on the street. He pulled one of my tea towels from the rack and wiped the blood from his face (great, more blood soaked household linen!) and took a long drink. Seeing my stunned expression, he gave an impatient huff.

‘He’ll be fine. It’s just a broken neck,’ he said, in a dismissive tone that probably nobody, ever, has used in that phrase before. ‘C’mon. Phase two.’

‘You couldn’t have given me a heads up on phase one?’ I frowned, but Cain was already making himself busy. He slung Laclos over his shoulder like he was carrying a bag of spuds, and nodded towards the fridge.

‘There’s a load of blood bags behind the bacon. Bring some.’

So, clearly, he hadn’t just been shopping at Tesco.

***

I followed him into the living room, where he dropped Laclos on the sofa, not particularly gently. I cringed to see how his neck seemed to flop, boneless.

‘Uh, maybe get a towel for this bit? I don’t want to make a mess of your place.’

Biting off the words ‘it’s a bit bloody late for that’, I complied. I was already out some bedding, a door and a very expensive fridge, I really didn’t want to have to replace the sofa as well. Not wanting to use any of my better towels, I picked up a slightly ratty blanket that I used for the cat, figuring Laclos wouldn’t know and Cain wouldn’t care, though he did pull a face when I handed it to him, clearly amused by my choice. It did, admittedly, look like something Dante spent a lot of time sleeping on, but if Laclos could recover from a broken neck, some cat hair wasn’t going to hurt him. Cain crouched down beside Laclos, putting the blanket under his head and tipping it back until his mouth fell open. I’d found a stack of blood bags in the fridge – lovely – and handed him one. He snapped the seal with medical efficiency and started squeezing it into Laclos’ mouth. I grimaced as the liquid pooled, spilling over his lips and chin.

‘Won’t he choke?’

‘Vampires don’t breathe. Even if it goes into his lungs, he can absorb it that way.’

He lifted Laclos’ head slightly, presumably to encourage gravity to do what Laclos seemed incapable of doing himself. A cold fist of fear gripped my heart. What if he was wrong? What if Laclos couldn’t recover from that level of damage? But then, as if hearing my thoughts, there was the tiniest movement in Laclos’ throat, then he started to swallow, gulping down the blood in great gulps, eyelids fluttering. Cain squeezed the bag empty, then lowered Laclos’ head back to the sofa, slightly more gently this time. He snapped the seal off another blood bag and handed it to me.

‘I don’t want to be in here when he’s coming round in case my presence triggers a relapse. Your Sense should be able to pick up on whether it’s worked – if he’s clear, he should be OK around me. But Cass, if he wakes and he’s not himself, he’s not through this… then we’re out of options. Do you understand that?’

I managed a nod, but started, horrified, as he handed me his gun.

‘He comes round and he’s still crazy – even just a little bit – you have to shoot him. Can you do that?’

‘Are the bullets silver?’

Cain’s expression gave me my answer, and I quailed. He frowned, his face stern.

‘I’m not leaving you in here if you’re not willing to do this. If you can’t shoot him, then I’m barricading him in here and leaving him to starve, whether he’s saved or not. So are you up for this?’