Chapter 19
They took his T-Bird, the rumble of the big engine in competition with the guitars ululating from six overpowered speakers. Apparently they were through with casual conversation. Holly was quiet, wrapped in a sulk like a cozy blanket.
The guitars died midshriek as he killed the engine. St. Andrew's spread out before them, draped in a mantilla of sea fog. Holly got out and buttoned her coat against the clammy wind.
'I can't see a damned thing,' she complained.
'Then stay close to me.' Alessandro pulled out the gun, the holster making a whispery rasp of metal on leather.
The sound made Holly's skin crawl, but then her eyes adjusted enough to see the gun properly. It was one like Mac had, made for silver bullets. He fitted a suppressor onto it.
Cold sweat slithered down her back like an inquisitive snake. 'What are you afraid of?'
He turned, his features lost in the darkness. 'Not much. But I am cautious.'
Walking around the long nose of the car, she put herself on his left side, away from the gun. He gripped her hand.
'Follow me,' he said, and he led Holly between the graves.
Short iron fences enclosed many of the plots, just the right height to trip over. Holly strained all her senses, trying to keep from stumbling. Water dripped from leaf to leaf. She could smell the sea, the cold mist salting her lips and turning her cheeks to ice. Above, the clouds thinned and rolled, the moonlight fading in and out, making gossamer trails in the fog.
Alessandro stopped, and she bumped into him. With a brush of his arm he swept her behind one of the small mausoleums that dotted the cemetery. Gun poised, he crouched. She ducked down behind him, bracing herself on the gritty stone of the building.
'What is it?' Holly whispered.
He pointed. To their left shadows moved in and out of the fog. Shifting backward, he put his lips close to her ear. 'Ghouls, and not the college crowd.'
Her next breath shook. A pack of ghouls was something to fear. Never needing an excuse to snack, they would shred and eat a lone human in a matter of minutes. She blessed Alessandro for bringing the gun.
Twin notes of a foghorn moaned. She put her hand on Alessandro's shoulder, leaning in close. 'What do we do?'
He shook his head, the brush of his hair soft against her skin. 'We wait and watch. They don't normally come to St. Andrew's. It's too far into the city. If they're sniffing around here, somebody sent them.'
'If they're being good little soldiers, then who's the general?'
He held up a hand for silence. The creatures were crossing in front of the mausoleum, drawing close enough that Holly could see their outlines against the moon-whitened fog. She felt the glide of muscle and bone beneath Alessandro's jacket as he took aim. The physical contact was comforting, but she drew back to give him more room to move.
There were half a dozen ghouls moving in a close-packed clump. Each about the size of a twelve-year-old human, they looked gangly and skinny, walking with a boneless, slumped posture. Many had ball caps and baggy pants, but ghouls never wore shoes. Their fingers and toes had long, curving claws that would shred through any canvas or leather in seconds. Holly shuddered, pressing against the rough, mossy rock of the mausoleum, wishing she could dissolve into it.
Then she felt Alessandro tense. Pointing again, he indicated a figure that was pushing forward to assume the lead position in the pack. It was not a ghoul. Holly stared, squinting as if that would somehow make what she saw prettier.
If it could have straightened up, it might have been as tall as a man, but the creature's spine curled over until the head seemed to thrust forward. Barrel-chested, hairless, and nearly naked, it half ran, half waddled in a rolling gait more animal than human.
It stopped, turning to the ghouls. It hissed something at them, gesturing toward the ocean side of the graveyard. The ghouls milled in confusion until it cuffed one on the ear, knocking it to the grass. Then it waved a long, malformed arm again and turned to lead its charges away. As the pale light caught the thing's face, she could see enough of its features to make her stomach roll. It had no nose or mouth, just a slitlike opening full of needle-sharp teeth. Holly cringed back, sweating with petrified revulsion.
A long minute passed before Alessandro spoke. 'They're gone.'
'What was that thing?' she asked, feeling cold beads of perspiration run down her ribs.
He turned, his eyes flashing gold in the moonlight. 'That was a changeling.'
'A vampire?' she said, aghast.
He rose to his feet, looking around. 'We do not acknowledge them as vampires.'
'Where do they come from? How did
Alessandro peered around the corner of the mausoleum before answering. 'We do not speak of it, so do not repeat what I say.'
'Okay.' Was this confidence her consolation prize, to make up for all the things he couldn't tell her?
'We do not gratuitously make vampires. We control our numbers. There can be only so many, or…' He shrugged.
'Too many wolves for the number of sheep?'
He shifted his feet as if embarrassed. 'Precisely. But it is also a complex process. It can easily go wrong, and if it does, the results are abominations.'
'The changelings.'
'Yes. Things happen during the Turning. Centuries ago there were blunders. The mistakes were allowed to perpetuate. Those were the changelings.' He turned and looked around the corner of the building again. 'I think it is safe to go on.' He glided out of sight.
Holly crept after him, her tennis shoes quiet in the long grass. She threw her senses open for a moment, testing the immediate area. She could feel Alessandro, a dark, still presence. His vampire mind was closed to her, but palpable. All around the spirits of the dead whispered to themselves, a low level of consciousness punctuated by the occasional restless mind. It was like any other graveyard. She could sense nothing else. Where, then, were the ghouls and their changeling leader? She should have been able to sense them if they were still on the grounds.
Alessandro stopped and whirled, gun rising and braced in both hands. 'Holly, get behind me!'
Four changelings emerged from behind the tombstones, two on either side of the path. 'Ssssandro!' one of them hissed. It might have been laughing, but its batlike face made it hard to tell.
'Giuseppi,' Alessandro replied. 'How lovely to see you. It's been so long.'
He aimed his gun at the creature's forehead and pulled the trigger. Even with a suppressor, the noise seemed huge in the still, fog-laden night. Holly flinched away, but she still saw the back of the changeling's skull explode all over a stone angel. The silver bullet was pretty much gravy. A shot like that would kill anything, supernatural or not.
There was a microsecond of suspense, the aftershock of violence shushing through the cedar trees. Then ghouls exploded out of the greenery, loping on all fours, gibbering and yipping like monkeys.
Already Holly was behind Alessandro, moving as he moved, backing into the trees. He fired again and again, dropping a host of ghouls and one more changeling.
Holly had no gun. She was her only weapon. With her senses open she felt the space around her, seeking a source of energy to use. The air of the graveyard was thick with ambient force, the magic of death and departing souls—no shortage of raw material. She just had to figure out how to use it.
Power swam under her feet, viscous and sweet as syrup, a vein waiting to be tapped. She reached for it, but wavered.
The gun clicked empty. 'Holly!' Alessandro shouted. 'Quickly!'
