Queen Of Blood Part 19

"Yes. It is part of the bargain I made with the death G.o.ds."

Dream stopped laughing. "You're not kidding, are you?"

The Master shook his head. "I am not."

Dream s.h.i.+vered. It was a strange thing to contemplate. Suicidal impulses had plagued so much of her younger years, and now she was looking at a potential lifetime stretching across centuries. The concept was initially jarring, but the more she thought about it--and the more she stared into her lover's intense eyes--the more right it felt.

She smiled and touched his face. "Okay."

He took one of her hands in his, kissed the back of it. "I love you, Dream."

She tugged at the sash around her bathrobe and pulled open the flaps, exposing the front of her body.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pale in the alien sunlight. The sound of the gunfire was growing louder as she said, "Come f.u.c.k me."

The Master smiled again.

And did as his Queen bade.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Marcy was in the bathroom with her sister. Ellen was perched on the toilet, with her jeans down around her ankles. Marcy knelt in front of her and coaxed her sister with words she almost certainly didn't understand. Hygiene was a big problem for Ellen. It had been hard to get her to understand that she couldn't just squat and s.h.i.+t on the floor any time she felt the urge to go. Nor had it been easy to instruct her on proper use of the toilet. You had to watch for signs indicating she was on the verge of needing to take a dump. She would get restless and start pacing about their room, panting and whimpering like a dog in need of going outside. In fact, the process had been very similar to potty-training an animal.

Ellen whimpered again. "Muhmuh...muh--"

Marcy sighed. "Come on Ellen. Squeeze. You can do it."

"Muh...muh--"Tears of frustration welled in Ellen's eyes. "Muh--"

"Oh, the h.e.l.l with it."

"Oh, the h.e.l.l with it."

Marcy stood and extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with dumb grat.i.tude, a drool-flecked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ellen stood, and Marcy helped her get her jeans tugged back up and snapped shut. They had just reentered the bedroom when Marcy heard the faint sound of something she needed a moment to recognize as heavy metal music.

She frowned.

It was the first time she'd heard recorded music of any sort since arriving at this place. Though the music was m.u.f.fled, she had a sense that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. She was moving toward the bedroom door to investigate when the boom of the first explosion sent a hot spike of fear through her heart, freezing her hand on the doork.n.o.b. The sound was ma.s.sive and the concussion seemed to rattle the whole house. It was followed immediately by more explosions, just as big and loud, which was followed by the stuttering sound of gunfire. Ellen screamed and threw herself against Marcy, jarring her hand away from the doork.n.o.b. Her hands clawed and scrabbled against Marcy's clothes as she mewled inarticulately. Marcy shoved her away, sent her tumbling to the floor. Ellen landed on her a.s.s and let out a pained squeal. The sound ripped at Marcy's heart, but the panic engulfing her was too immense to allow any room for coddling her simpleton sister. She had to figure out something to do, and fast, before whatever was happening downstairs got any closer.

Then she had it. The only answer possible.

Dream. We've got to get to Dream.

"Upstairs." She looked at Ellen. "Get your a.s.s up. We're going upstairs. NOW."

She hurried over to the nightstand beside the bed, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out her Glock. She checked the magazine. Full. She popped it ba ck in and turned around in time to see her sister moving toward the door. Ellen's hands fumbled with the doork.n.o.b for a moment before seizing it. A burst of adrenaline sent Marcy das.h.i.+ng back across the room.

The door came open and the sound of gunfire grew abruptly louder. Screams and confused shouts echoed down the hallway.

Ellen stepped into the chaos and Marcy followed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

The straight razor felt good in her hands, like it belonged there. Alicia flicked it open and moved to the head of the bed, where she stared down into the wide eyes of the girl tied to the headboard. She was a young thing, slim and blonde, with a cute face and a nice figure. The ball gag affixed to her mouth and face enhanced her prettiness in a perverse way, emphasizing her youth and vulnerability.

Alicia sat next to her and pushed sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair away from the girl's forehead. The girl s.h.i.+vered at Alicia's touch.

Alicia smiled. "Once upon a time, girl, I was in your place. Tied up for no good reason other than the pure h.e.l.l of it. A d.a.m.n shame, ain't it? That there are people in this rotten world who get their kicks this way?"

Tears welled in the girl's eyes and spilled down her flushed cheeks.

Alicia wiped the tears away and licked them off her fingers. "Mmm. Anyway...as I was saying, it's a shame there are people like me in the world." She laughed and placed the blade flat against the girl's white belly. "A shame for you, anyway."

She pressed the blade into the girl's flesh, penetrating just slightly, perhaps an eighth of an inch, and drew a red line all the way down to her hip. It wasn't a mortal wound by any means, but the girl squealed and rocked against her restraints. Then she was panting in agony behind the ball gag. Her whole face was red and Alicia wondered whether it was possible to scare a person this young enough to induce a heart attack. It didn't seem likely, but she supposed it was possible. It would be regrettable.

She was just getting started on her.

It was funny. This thing she was doing to this girl, some anonymous runaway she didn't even know, was exactly what she'd planned for Dream back when she'd first recorporealized. But things had changed somewhere along the way. Being with Dream made her stronger and made all sorts of interesting things possible. The time she'd spent on the road with Dream and those kids had even been kind of fun. So she'd stuck with them, resisting the sometimes powerful urge to kill them all, and things had worked out just fine. She was in a perfect situation now, in just the right place for indulging the dark compulsions that were always lurking in the back of her mind.

Strange.

She'd never had impulses like these in her first life. The original Alicia Jackson had been just as tough and no-nonsense, but she'd also been a highly moralistic person. That conscience had not made the journey back from the other side of death with her. It bothered her a little, that some piece of her essence was missing, but not enough to matter.

There were three black-clad Apprentices in the room with her. Two young men and a slender girl about the same age as the runaway tied to the bed. The men were lounging in chairs. They looked bored. This wasn't anything they hadn't seen a thousand times by now. The girl, though, was sitting in a chair close to the bed, an avid expression on her face, her eyes glittering with a dark, eager hunger.

Alicia smiled again. "Sophie? Could you do me a favor?"

Sophie looked at her. "Yes, Mistress?"

"There's a bottle of perfume over there." She nodded at the vanity sitting against the wall behind Sophie. "Fetch it for me, would you?"

Sophie grinned. "Of course."

She hopped up and bounced over to the vanity, displaying an adolescent enthusiasm Alicia found charming. She found the bottle and brought it over to Alicia. "Here ya go."

"Thanks, Sophie. Now sit down again and watch. This will be fun."

Sophie did as ordered and Alicia looked into the bound girl's eyes again as she removed the stopper from the bottle. She moved the bottle into position over the long incision. "This is another thing that was done to me years ago. Let me tell you something, girl. You may think you're hurting now, but--"

The blast of bludgeoning heavy metal riffery startled Alicia and the bottle slipped from her fingers. The music was very loud. Very close. She thought about it a moment and realized she'd been hearing another, lower sound prior to the intrusion of the music, a sound she now recognized as the rumble of engines.

Alicia stood and moved toward the bedroom door. "Just what the f.u.c.k is going on out there?"

She opened the door and stepped out onto the second-floor landing. She peeked down the stairs and saw a number of Black Brigade soldiers heading into the foyer. Curiosity got the better of her and she started down the stairs. The gunfire was already starting by the time she was halfway down. Then the first AT7 sh.e.l.l slammed through the door, pa.s.sed through the foyer, and detonated when it struck the wall arch outside the living room. The explosion ripped apart bodies and rocked Alicia off her feet, sent her tumbling down the stairs.

She was just getting to her feet when the next sh.e.l.l came streaking in. The next explosion knocked her off her feet again and for a moment all she felt was a stunned confusion. She heard loud voices and bullets buzzing by everywhere. Then she felt an immense pain and lifted her head to look at her stomach. A piece of shrapnel had ripped through her abdomen, eviscerating her.

Then the black boot of a fleeing Black Brigade soldier came down on her face as she died a second time. In the last moment before she expired, she experienced a surprising--and intense--feeling of relief.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

The invading force stormed through the demolished entrance to the house and spread out through the ground floor. The sound of gunfire was ceaseless, the stuttering eruptions blending into a cacophonous din.

Chad and Allyson were among the last through the entrance. They came in charging, then fought not to stumble over the strewn body parts and debris. The large foyer had been transformed. It was now a h.e.l.lish slaughterhouse. Blood and pieces of bodies everywhere. Chad had seen the aftermath of brutal, violent death before, but never in such abundance, not even during that seemingly endless firefight through the tunnel to the Master's house years ago.

He saw the body of a brown-skinned woman lying still in the middle of all the carnage. He frowned and moved closer. "It can't be."

The dead woman looked just like Alicia Jackson, Dream's long-dead best friend. And it wasn't just a strong resemblance. That wouldn't have troubled him. No, this woman was a precise replica of the woman Chad remembered. He knew Alicia had no siblings--identical twin or otherwise--so he was unable to make sense of what he was seeing on any level. He stared at Alicia's slack features and forgot his surroundings. The moment nearly cost him his life.

He detected a blur of movement in his peripheral vision and looked to his right in time to see Allyson raise her weapon and send a burst of automatic fire at the second-floor landing. Red dots blossomed across the black s.h.i.+rts of two armed men. The men fell backward against more black-clad men behind them. Allyson hurried to the foot of the staircase and kept firing the whole time. More men in black fell dead before they could get a bead on Allyson with their own weapons, and in a moment the landing was clear, the surviving enemy combatants retreating to a safer position.

The sound of gunfire became more sporadic and eventually died down to the occasional pop. Allyson seized Chad's arm and tried to tug him back toward the front entrance, leaning close to whisper into his ear. "Come on, G.o.ddammit, this is our chance, let's get out of here."

Chad was numb. Part of it was the mystery of Alicia. The wall-to-wall gore was another part of it. But a bigger factor was this firsthand experience of Allyson's total willingness to kill anyone in the way of what she wanted. She'd done it before, of course, starting with the men who'd broken into his house. Then again on the way up here, dispatching the men who'd been her traveling companions. But now he'd watched her mow down at least four more men, acting with deadly precision and concentration, not stopping until she was certain the threat was gone. In a flash, Chad realized no one had ever cared for him as intensely as Allyson did. No one had ever been so willing to step into harm's way and sacrifice for him.

So he let himself be dragged toward the door. He would follow her anywhere now. They reached the door and would have stepped through it if not for the presence of the older Asian man and his younger male sidekick on the porch. The men regarded them with even, unreadable expressions. Each held an identical silver sword. Chad immediately understood that they had a.s.sumed this position to prevent the very thing he and Allyson were attempting.

"f.u.c.k. We're not going anywhere yet."

Allyson started to raise her weapon. "G.o.ddammit."

Chad pushed the barrel down. "Don't. You'd be dead before you could squeeze the trigger."

Allyson made a sound of frustration and twisted away from him. "Fine. f.u.c.k them. Let's finish this thing."

A number of the Camp Whiskey soldiers had filtered back into the foyer. Jim was among them. There was a bright splash of blood across the front of his s.h.i.+rt, but he did not appear to be wounded. Chad a.s.sumed he'd killed someone in close combat. Bai reappeared, too, her sword dripping blood. She pushed her way to the middle of the throng and rattled off a quick set of instructions. "The ground floor is clear. Now we advance. You. And you." She pointed at two of the camo-attired men. "Up the stairs. Get close, but not close enough to draw fire. You know what to do."

The two men nodded and wasted no time following her orders. They unclipped gas masks from their belts and slipped them on. Then they crept up the stairs one careful step at a time. They stopped at a point about halfway up and hunkered down. One man kept his weapon trained on the second-floor landing while another man unsnapped two stun grenades from his belt. He tossed one up to the landing. It landed with a loud thump on the hardwood floor and rolled down the hallway. The second one bounced off the wall beyond the landing and for one tense millisecond Chad was sure it would come tumbling back down the stairs. But the grenade caught a funny bounce as it hit the floor and went backward down the hallway. This all happened in the s.p.a.ce of maybe five seconds. Terrified screams resounded in the second-floor hallway as several people saw the bouncing black objects and recognized them for what they were.

Then there came a loud, teeth-jarring BANG!

And another.

Then smoke was billowing from the hallway and a number of Camp Whiskey soldiers went racing up the staircase as Bai screamed at them:"UP! UP! UP! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

To Chad she seemed like a madwoman herding human cattle. Then she was at his back, the heel of her hand slamming between his shoulder blades, driving him forward. "GO! FIGHT!"

Chad's feet found the staircase and he began to move up even as he heard gunfire erupt anew above him. He fumbled with his own gas mask and somehow managed to get it on. Then Allyson was racing up the staircase, hurrying past him to put herself between him and the bad guys yet again.

Chad ran after her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

Marcy burst through the bedroom door into a hallway choked with black-clad Apprentices and a handful of Black Brigade soldiers who were attempting to herd the frightened s.a.d.i.s.ts back into their rooms. She looked to her left and right and saw no immediate sign of Ellen. s.h.i.+t. She went up on her toes and lifted her chin in an attempt to see above the heads of the babbling morons in her way. Sometimes it was a real pain in the a.s.s being a short girl. Then she finally caught a glimpse of the bobbing head of a person weaving between the gathered Apprentices.

Ellen.

She was heading toward the staircase to the second floor. Toward the source of all that gunfire. Marcy shoved people aside with one hand and waved the Glock around with the other as she set off in desperate pursuit. She ignored the frequent shouts of protest and pushed her way forward with reckless abandon. One big male Apprentice glared at her and moved back into her path. He was opening his mouth to say something when she shot him between the eyes. She hopped over his falling corpse and continued forward with greater ease, the Apprentices and Black Brigades shrinking away from her, creating a wide path straight down the middle of the hallway.

Marcy caught sight of Ellen's back. She had reached the staircase landing and showed no signs of slowing down. Marcy put on a burst of speed as her sister started down the stairs. Some part of her was aware of how crazy this was. The thing she was risking her life for wasn't really her sister. Dream could conjure another one into existence if it died. But some deep, familial instinct drove her forward anyway.

She reached the staircase and went full-throttle down the stairs. The second-floor hallway was choked with smoke. Ellen reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into that billowing white cloud. G.o.d alone knew what was driving her. She was heading into the worst of the danger rather than away from it. The only thing Marcy could figure was she was trying to get out of the house. Too bad she lacked the intelligence to recognize the impossibility of escape by that route.

Marcy leaped over the last four steps and landed hard on the floor. Pain exploded in her ankles, but she ignored it and moved into the hallway. A lot of Black Brigade men were in front of her now. And Ellen. Bullets whined in the air, punching holes in the walls, blowing out lights, and occasionally shredding the flesh of the soldiers. The smoke wasn't as thick at this end of the hallway, and Marcy was grateful for that. She figured they had a few moments of relative safety, a narrow window of opportunity of which she meant to take full advantage.

She grabbed Ellen by the wrist and spun her around. The girl yelped and looked at her with eyes wide with fear. She didn't seem to recognize Marcy at first. Then she cried out and threw her arms around Marcy in a rough embrace. Tears welled in Marcy's eyes. She broke the embrace and grabbed Ellen by the wrist again. "Come on, girl, back upstairs. We're gonna go see Dream."

Ellen opened her mouth and said, "Muhmuh...muh--"

Marcy began to drag her back toward the staircase. "Yeah, yeah. Tell me later, okay?"

Then Ellen let out a startled wheeze and Marcy turned to look at her. The front of Ellen's s.h.i.+rt was red, and there was a big, ragged hole between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. A stray shot had caught her when Marcy had her back turned.

Ellen dropped to her knees and Marcy dropped with her. She put her hands on her dying sister's shoulders and tears filled her eyes again as she said, "Ohno. Ohnononono. Not again. Not again."

Then Ellen sagged forward into her arms and Marcy guided her gently to the floor. The battle continued to rage ahead of them, but for the moment Marcy was oblivious to it. She stroked Ellen's hair and continued to utter her desperate denials. Ellen's breathing was shallow and uneven. Blood spilled from the corners of her lips. Her eyes were gla.s.sy and Marcy could see the life seeping rapidly out of her. She would be gone within moments and there was nothing she could do about it. Not a single G.o.dd.a.m.ned thing. It was that night in that f.u.c.king hotel room all over again.