“Don’t pay attention to that. Stairwell anywhere nearby?”
He gestured across from her. “Why not go downstairs?”
“You would think that.” She sighed. “All right, Mikey Mike, things are about to get a tad bit messy.”
“What?” He stopped behind her.
“Whatever you do”—she reached the stairwell—“please do not shoot me accidentally.”
He snorted. “I have better aim than that, thank you very much.”
“I hope so.” She opened the door and stepped into the stairway. Thankfully, the lights were still on there. Although she could see fine in the dark, she wasn’t sure where Michael was with that, and she didn’t want him fumbling with the gun in the dark.
They weren’t in the stairwell for five seconds before the door busted open a floor below. She glanced down. “How many floors is this?”
“Ten.”
“And we are on what floor?”
“Five,” he responded a little impatiently.
Damn it, she hated running up stairs. “Mikey, get behind me.” When he gave her a me-man-you-woman expression, she physically pushed him up a step. It was just in time, because what sounded like a herd of elephants rounded the level below them. She leaned over, peering down.
Two possessed humans—deadheads—sprang around the corner, clamoring over one another. The younger one looked about twenty-five and was drooling. She grimaced. The other was fresh and frighteningly fast. Behind them was a minion calling the shots, and she knew there were at least two more deadheads and another minion somewhere.
A voice rang out, echoing through the brick stairwell. “Kill the female. Do not kill the male.”
Lily tipped her head back at the startled man behind her. “And I’m the one bringing you the bad shit?”
His eyes were wide in disbelief.
“Shoot them in the head. It will slow them down.” She turned back to the deadheads. “Don’t worry about their bodies. I’ll take care of them before anyone has a chance to call the police.”
The fresh one crested the landing, wearing gym shorts and Nike shoes. Apparently they had gotten her on an evening run. An iPod was still hooked to her arm, creating the illusion she was still human. It was all rather disturbing. Once she got a sight of Lily, she laughed hysterically. “Kill the female,” she sang. “Kill the female.”
Lily arched a brow at her. That one definitely did not have a singing career in her future. Or breathing. She leaned back just as a gun went off in her ear. She flinched as the bullet zinged past her face, smacking into the woman’s chest. Sweet baby Jesus! She patted her cheek to make sure he didn’t graze her.
The runner glanced down at her top. There was a hole in her shirt a few inches off from her heart. “Kill the female.”
“The head, Michael!” she yelled. “I said the head!”
He gaped. “Holy shit.”
Exactly. She leaned back, planting her foot right in the face of the woman. The deadhead stumbled backward, crashing into the slower one. A middle-aged man who had the appearance of a professor lifted his head, roaring a string of guttural words.
“Get up the steps, Michael.” She went down a step, kicking the runner again. This time the deadhead fell back against the wall with an enraged scream. “And don’t shoot again, okay? Just put the damn gun away!” With that, she hopped down next to the professor and slammed the dagger into his chest. He toppled over the railing and, as he fell, his skin began to flake off.
The woman struggled to her feet, and Lily whirled to face her. Instead of listening, Michael was now on the landing beside her.
Apparently, he’d decided bullets weren’t effective. He pistol-whipped the deadhead. Her head snapped to the side with a sickening crunch. Even with her neck broken, she managed to turn back to Michael and laugh.
“Screw this,” he whispered as he fired the gun at point-blank range in her forehead. She fell backward and slid to the floor, twitching and screeching.
Lily sidestepped the runner’s flailing legs, bringing the dagger down. Such a shame. The girl had been pretty.
“Stab them in the chest with this type of silver etched with holy symbols and they are done for. Anyplace else is just going to hurt like crazy and piss them off,” she informed him coolly. “Those bullets are pretty damn useless.”
Michael stared at her. “Are you trying to teach me?”
She pushed him up the steps. “Get.”
“Nephilim,” called the minion from the landing below, “wanna play?”
Taking a deep breath, Lily turned and smiled. Like the one from the previous night, this minion was young, but the similarities ended there. Instead of black hair, his hair was dyed ice blond, and he didn’t bare any of the gothic trappings. He looked rather preppy in his pressed polo and designer jeans, smiling up at her.
She positioned herself in front of Michael, hoping he didn’t bum-rush past her like an idiot. “William, how have you been? Grow back that finger?”
The grin slipped from the minion’s face. “Why don’t you come down here and find out?”
She pretended to consider his request. Most minions were all fight and no brains, but William retained his cognitive thinking skills, and he had a couple of scores to settle with her. One of them involved the four-fingered left hand.
Edging Michael back, she sensed another was coming up behind William. Stuck in a cramped landing wasn’t the ideal place to take care of business. “So who’s holding your leash, Willy?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Not convinced, she rolled her eyes. It was more likely for her to kiss William’s rosy butt cheek before one of the Fallen actually involved themselves in a fight. Her gaze darted toward the newest arrival. Practically a carbon copy of William, the other minion stepped in front of him. Ah, the pawn. Before her were the brains and then the brawn. The pawn rushed the steps.
Behind her, Michael shifted and raised his gun. Distracted, she called out a warning to him. “Don’t do that!”
She realized a second too late that he didn’t know any better. Trained to fire a gun when his life was threatened, it had to be hard for him to overcome the logic behind it. He squeezed off a round and bull’s-eye! The bullet struck the one on the steps right between the eyes.
She cringed inwardly, crouching. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
And she was right.
The minion roared to life, charging the steps two at time.
She launched herself at him, managing to block his attempt to rush past her. They crashed into each other, slipping down a step or two in a tangle of leather and pressed khaki. When the minion reared back, she twisted out of his grasp. The light from the bulb above caught the glint of silver in his hand. It wasn’t that he had a blade that jolted her into action. All of the minions had some sort of weapon. It was the intricate writing scrolled on the length of the blade that made her take notice. It was just like hers, which meant it could kill her.
Not having time to consider where they might have gotten their grubby hands on a Nephilim blade, she sank hers deep into the minion’s flesh. His weight fell against her. “Ugh,” she grunted.
Michael came down the steps two at time, plucking the minion off her. By the time he heaved the creature over the railing, the face had already begun to disintegrate.
She passed him a thankful smile. “Two down…”
Michael’s lips twitched. “One more to go.”
She snatched up the blade the minion had held and turned back to William. Three more deadheads surrounded him. And they were all brand spanking new to the world of possession. How many human lives were wasted tonight?
“Kill her,” William ordered coldly.
All three lifted their heads, stares fixed on Lily. Normally, she would have happily gone after all three and William, but there was Michael. The deadheads were surely a decoy to get to him. They would keep her busy
