I only needed five.
I whipped both arms over his and boxed his ears with full-power blows of cupped palms. The sudden inward pressure burst his eardrums, and he screamed and let go, reflexively grabbing his pounding head. I kicked him in the groin as hard as I could, channeling everything I could muster into the blow. I thought of Lilith and the Mothers and every wretched thing they had endured. I thought of the threats he made against my sister-in-law, Jenny. I thought of all the women the Upierczi had tormented. I took all of that and kicked him with the tip of my steel-toe shoe. Over and over again. Without mercy. Without stopping. The impact shattered the underside of his pelvis, pulping any tissue that was in the way. His shriek went ultrasonic and he froze, eyes goggling in their sockets.
Nice targets.
I used my thumbs on those.
He fell screaming to the floor. I stood swaying over him. He was blind, broken. But as deeply as I looked inside myself I could not find a single splinter of mercy. Inside, a black voice howled from the cold furnace of my soul. The sounds of gunfire and screams echoed down the hall.
I bent close to Grigor and whispered in his ear. “A bunch of women are chopping your master race to pieces. Bet that really fucking stings.”
I straightened.
“This is for the Mothers of the Fallen.”
And I stomped him to death.
Somewhere along the way I went crazy. Broken things inside me shifted and there were bursts of color and walls of darkness. I could hear myself laughing every time a bone shattered under my heel. While I was in that bad, bad place, the damage in my chest and the damage in my head caught up to me. I coughed and spat blood on the wall.
I reeled away from Grigor and went toward the sound of the battle, but I kept hitting the walls.
I heard a woman’s voice. Familiar.
“Grace!” I yelled.
That’s what I thought I said, what I tried to say. But my words came out slurred as I wandered sideways on feet that no longer understood their purpose. I made it as far as the metal stairs, but when I tried to step down I forgot how my feet worked. I fell. Rolling, tumbling, hitting the metal, spilling and sprawling as the cavern swirled around me.
I don’t remember landing.
I thought I heard voices. More knights? No… was it the cold voice of Mr. Church speaking in the meaningless language of the knights?
My dead mother smiled at me from behind the stacked crates, her eyes weeping blood.
Rudy whispered in my ear, “I was so sorry to hear that you died, Joe.”
I said, “No!”
But the darkness said, “Yes.”
I fell forward into its embrace.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four
Aghajari Oil Refinery
Iran
June 16, 6:43 a.m.
I heard someone calling from the other side of a wall. The wall was a million miles high and made of darkness.
I thought I heard a woman speaking. She was close, kneeling beside me, whispering in my ear, but her words made no sense.
Then silence.
A moment later…
“Cap’n? Jesus, Cap’n… are you dead?”
I knew that voice. Male, gruff. Filled with emotion. But I had no label to hang on it.
Dead?
“No,” I thought, or perhaps I said it aloud.
Then there were hands on me. Another vampire? I screamed and tried to fight them off.
“Watch!” barked another voice. “Hold his arm. Hold him.”
My wrists were caught. One, two. Held, though I fought against it.
“Hold him!”
“I am holding him, Farmboy!”
“Christ, he’s a mess.”
I tried opening my eyes, but the world was filled with lights that were too bright to look at. Then someone forced my eyelids open and let the burning sun blast me.
“Look at his eyes!”
“They’re hemorrhaged. Concussion… might be a skull fracture.”
I wondered what that was. I knew that I should know.
More hands on me, under my arms, lifting. Pain was a defining characteristic of the whole universe.
“Watch his head.”
I heard a dog barking. Funny. I used to have a dog when I was a kid, but he died. How could he be barking now?
“He’s coming out of it… watch, watch!”
“Top, hurry the fuck up. They’re coming!”
A rattling sound. Loud pops. Some screams too. I wondered what movie we were watching.
“Warbride… get those cocksuckers!”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I had the weirdest sensation, like I was floating along on just the toes of my boots. Gliding.
More pops and bangs.
“Go- go! I’ll hold them here. Get him out of here.”
No, I tried to say. I wanted to see the movie. I tried to pull away.
“Don’t let him go!”
“Juice him, damn it. Give it to me. I’ll do it, give it to me.”
There was a pinpoint of cold heat on the side of my neck.
And then nothing again.
This time the nothing was wonderful. If it was death, then I liked it.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five
Aghajari Oil Refinery
Iran
June 16, 7:49 a.m.
I woke up in a truck that smelled of diesel oil and fertilizer. The first thing I was aware of was pain.
Everything hurt.
Every.
Single.
Thing.
The worst was my head. It felt like the Hindenburg after the fire started. Even my eyebrows hurt.
