make sure you pay for it.” When he gave me a smal smile I said, “Now let’s find Vayl and get the hel outta here.”
I’d like to say my extra sense led us right to him. But the big crowd surrounding the snarling creatures pretty much gave it away.
Cole found us just as we’d muscled our way to the front.
“Should we cal this progress?” he asked
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Did a word like that fit on a street that had heard the screams of invaders and absorbed the blood of defenders so often in its history that the battle waging across its bricks now wouldn’t even make the footnotes of its autobiography? I watched Vayl confront the leader of Ahmed’s guard pack, his wound already nothing more than a pink puckered spot mostly hidden by his thick black fur and the fal of drying blood on his head and neck, and understood how little the world would ever care about what happened in the next five minutes. Hel , even finding out that Luureken weren’t just fairy tales wouldn’t make them blink. Most of the crowd around us were seeing the leader’s froth-mouthed little berserker with their own eyes, and al they could think about was what an awesome story it would make when they final y found a computer cafe so they could post it to their travelogues. But for me and my crew, Vayl’s victory here meant everything.
We watched like guest surgeons at an operation while amateur bookies took bets and the people with money on the fighters screamed al around us. We’d already missed the first few moves, so we could only guess what had happened from existing injuries. The Were, bleeding from new wounds across his shoulders and flanks, was going after Vayl like my
The Luureken, whose shoulder stil slumped from the slug Cole had shot through it, hadn’t escaped the sharp edge of Vayl’s weapon, a butcher’s cleaver he must have stolen from Chef Henri. Because he’d sliced four spikes off the Luureken’s head, leaving behind freely bleeding stumps.
I cal ed from the front of the crowd, “Lord Brancoveanu, it’s us. We need to get moving. We have Ahmed.” He ignored me. I understood. This was his battle now. It should’ve been over a lot sooner. Except Vayl was…
savoring… the violence. His eyes bright red with bloodlust, he repeatedly wounded when he could’ve kil ed. And al I could do was admire him. Because no one had forced him to become the vampire Pete had partnered me with. The quiet, control ed creature who never hunted, and kil ed only for his adopted country. He’d pul ed himself out of the mire without help. That took guts. And strength. And honesty. I couldn’t remember when I loved him more.
But there was such a thing as overkil . And the longer we waited, the more likely it would be that the other two Luureken-mounted Weres would show up to swing the odds.
I murmured, “Keep a sharp eye out. The other guards could be—”
A scream and a thump on the back stopped me. I turned around, raising Vayl’s cane like a club. What I saw was Bergman being dragged away, gaping members of the crowd leaning in to get a good look and maybe a camera-phone shot of whatever had hooked him through his side.
“Miles!” I bolted after him, shouldering past muttering bystanders who’d only now begun to realize that they weren’t watching a performance set up just for them. In my favor was the fact that the wolf was slowed by the crowd as wel . Plus he had a rider and dead weight to drag. I caught up with them less than a minute later when he tried to swing around orange juice cart number twenty-seven and col ided with a red-robed water sel er, sending the man, his enormous tasseled hat, and al five of his shiny golden cups crashing to the ground.
I threw myself at the Luureken, so keyed on vengeance for Bergman that no amount of cute could veer me off, not even the lumpy-headed-pup look this one wore. I brought the rider off its mount, our impact making it drop the raes and sending Vayl’s sheath flying. Bergman screamed again as the hook jarred inside him.
“Miles! The bolo! For chrissake, use it!” I yel ed.
Losing its rider had staggered the wolf. But it recovered fast. And its chest wound wouldn’t keep it from turning on my friend. I prayed that he wasn’t too deep in shock to react as I jammed the sword into the Luureken’s neck, felt muscle give, and then bone. It fel to the street like an abandoned dol .
A scream, more animal than human, and yet I wasn’t sure whose mouth it came from until I saw Bergman trying to shove the limp Were off his chest. I ran over to help, and together we slid it aside, stil breathing, but not for much longer.
Bergman gazed up at me, his face so bloodless I’ve seen pinker corpses. “How bad is it?” he gasped.
My eyes did not want to drop to that wound, to take in the torn and bleeding flesh. But we both needed to know. I froze my face into an unreadable mask. Leaned over him and pul ed up his shirt.
My relief put me on my ass.
“What is it?”
I looked up at him, smiled at his bravery. My good Miles, not even crying like he would’ve been only a few months ago. “I don’t know how you did it. Probably al those hours you spent sitting in front of computer screens. But your limited amount of body fat has al commuted to your love handles. And that’s what the Were snagged. It’s going to hurt like a muther for a long time. And we stil have to worry about infection. But I think you’re going to make it.” We grinned at each other. I’d have hugged him, but I figured he’d had enough shocks for one day. Then his smile vanished. “What about Ahmed?”
“The others can take care of him.”
“Not with the rest of the wolves on the loose!”
“Dude. I’m not leaving you bleeding on the ground in freaking Marrakech! Besides, there’s only one or two left that we real y have to worry about, and they’ve both been shot—”
He shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight. Vayl might never come back to you if you’re not there tonight.
Monique gave me her number. I’l cal her. She’l help me get to a hospital.”
