One Grave at a Time

Thirty-seven

Back when I had the full force of Marie’s borrowed abilities in me, I could shed my blood and call forth Remnants. But if I wanted to summon ghosts, I had to shed tears with my inner rallying cry. I didn’t have enough of the voodoo queen’s power left in me for my tears to compel ghosts near and far to rush to my side. But ghosts who were concentrating on me with all their strength to try to find me, like Elisabeth and Fabian would be doing?

Yeah, I still had enough juice in me for that. The lantern Kramer had on the ground, the one he sought to terrify us with because of that flickering flame and its ominous portent, would only make it easier for us to be found by anyone flying overhead.

Kramer recoiled, wiping his hand on his tunic as though my tears were poisonous. “I will burn them from you, Hexe!”

I trusted that my message had been sent, and now, it was time to quit playing possum and kick some evil ass.

“I’d like to see you try that.”

He grabbed the lantern, the look in his eyes telling me he wasn’t bluffing this time. What he felt in my tears must have warned him that it wasn’t worth the risk to rape and torture me first. But because he’d been off by a centimeter or so when he stabbed the silver knife into my chest, I didn’t hesitate to wrench my arms down, breaking the metal cuffs restraining me. It jostled the knife, but not enough to shred my heart, and before Kramer could correct that error, I yanked the blade out. Two hard jerks were my feet ripping free of the restraints, leaving nothing but the dried cornhusks at the bottom of the empty pole to catch fire when Kramer threw the lantern at me.

They went up with a whoosh, the gasoline Kramer doused me with having soaked them, too. I’d leapt back far enough to avoid any fumes on me igniting, but he’d spilled gasoline on Lisa and Francine, too. And the cornstalks around us, dried and crackling from the lateness of the season, were like tall, skinny matchsticks.

Kramer howled in frustration at missing me with the lantern. Sarah took one look at the flames and started to crawl away from the clearing as fast as she could. I ran to Francine, knocking her pole over with a linebacker tackle and ripping the metal off her wrists and ankles. She gasped in pain behind her gag, but Kramer hadn’t given up on his grisly intentions so easily. He snatched at the burning husks on the ground and threw one at us.

The spot where her pole had been flared with the contact from those greedy orange and yellow tongues, but I yanked her away in time.

“Run!” I yelled, giving her a shove for emphasis. Lisa’s muffled screams told me what I already knew—that Kramer was now focused on her. He grinned as he threw a burning husk at her, not even seeming to notice that the bottom of his robe dragged in the flames.

I didn’t have time to knock her out of the way. It had taken precious seconds to free Francine and get her safely out of the sodden, flammable circle at her feet. That glowing bundle arced toward Lisa and I knew, with crystal clarity, the only thing I could do to save her. Instead of aiming for the screaming woman helplessly chained to the pole, I threw myself at the burning missile, snatching it and taking it with me as I landed outside the triangular clearing.

Flames raced up my arms, blazing into an avalanche of fire once they reached my gasoline-soaked clothes. Pain so intense it robbed me of thought scalded over me, spreading to cover my body in an instant. In the brief moments it took them to reach my face, I realized I’d vaulted myself straight up into the sky, doing the worst thing possible by flying and fanning the flames. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision—all my primal mind knew was that it wanted away from this torture. With the willpower I had left in me, screaming as pain exploded in every nerve ending, I forced myself down into the fields and began to roll as fast as I could away from Kramer and the others.

You’ll heal, you’ll heal, you’ll heal. I clung to that litany while my mind exploded with the agony of my flesh being eaten away by those merciless flames. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, but I could feel everything, including the excruciating inner searing when I screamed again, and it drew flames into my mouth. Every instinct urged me stop rolling over what felt like razors ripping away at what was left of my flesh. To run from the overwhelming suffering that spared no inch of me, but with the last vestiges of my sanity, I ignored those urges and kept rolling.

After what felt like a thousand years, I realized I could see again. I was tucked into the fetal position, still rolling blindly across the fields. I used my blurry vision to spot the few remaining patches of fire on my feet where my boots had melted around them, then slapped at them. The movement sent riptides of anguish on top of what was already more pain than I could ever remember feeling, but I kept swatting at the flames until they were out and all the shoe remains were off my feet.

For a dazed moment as I looked down at myself, I thought I was somehow still wearing my black jeans and blouse. But then I realized the dark tatters hanging over me weren’t clothes—it was my own charred skin. In the midst of the searing pain, I wanted to vomit and scream out of sheer horror, but Francine and Lisa were still fighting for their lives against a maniac determined to murder them. No matter what I looked like or how much it hurt, I didn’t have the option of panicking over the fire’s ravages or waiting until I finished healing to move. I had to act now, or burning myself to crisp by running into that fiery projectile had been for nothing.

I got up, unable to stuff back my gasp at what moving did to my blackened and cracking skin. You’ll heal, I repeated ruthlessly, then tried to force myself into the air. At the first attempt, I flopped back down immediately, cornhusks tearing into my still-partially-charred skin when I crashed. With another pained gasp, I got back up and tried again, flinging myself forward.

This time, I made it about thirty yards before I crashed, but it was enough for me to pinpoint where the deadly amber glow was. I ran in that direction, giving up on flying, the pain slowly starting to ease. Normally vampire injuries healed almost instantly, but with the extent of the damage the flames had caused both to skin and muscle, the healing was taking several minutes. Or it hurt so badly that it felt that way.

I burst into the triangular clearing right as flames licked the dry vegetation at the base of Lisa’s pole. Without slowing down, I barreled into her and lifted upward at the same time. The pole stayed in the ground, but the impact ripped Lisa free of the metal bindings. When the gasoline ignited and shot up the pole, she was already several feet above it, safely free of the flames.

That didn’t make her muffled screams decrease. Right before we crashed down, I saw that she stared at me with abject terror. Then I flipped so I’d take the bulk of the landing, stuffing back a shout as the impact reverberated through me, and the husks felt like they ripped all the new skin off my back.

Lisa expressed her gratitude for me sheltering her against the worst of the crash by punching and kicking me as soon as we skidded to a halt. The rough fall had knocked her gag loose, so she screamed between huge gasps of breath. Normally a human smacking and kicking me would have laughably little effect, but I fought the urge to crawl back into the fetal position and concentrated on catching her hands instead.

“Don’t hit me, that really hurts right now!”

My voice was hoarse to the point of being unrecognizable. Breathing in a lungful of fire will do that to a person, even if that person is a vampire. Lisa stopped fighting me, but she still had fear reeking from her pores even over the stench of gasoline.

“Cat?” she managed, sounding like she didn’t believe it.

“Who the hell else would it be?”

To make up for my sharp words, I tried to smile, but then stopped when that made her recoil. A glance at my arm showed I had a layer of soot over mostly healed skin, but there were still some grisly patches of charred flesh. Okay, so I looked like a crispy demon fresh from the pit, but it was still me.

A fresh river of tears spilled onto her cheeks. “B-but I saw you burn.”

“As Bones would say, right you are,” I told her with a shudder of remembrance. “I healed. Mostly.”

She still looked too shocked to believe me. “But . . . but . . .”

“No time for chatting, we need to get you out of here, and I have to find Francine,” I muttered, grasping her again. This time, she didn’t try to fight me off, but she did yelp when I lifted her and ran toward where my last aerial glimpse showed me the nearest stretch of road was. She’d be safer in the street, away from the fire that might start to spread even more if it wasn’t put out soon.

As soon as I saw pavement, I let her go, dashing back into the cornfield. The pain was almost gone now, to my vast relief. That allowed me to run faster, trying to listen for any sounds that would lead me to Francine. But just like when I walked in here with Sarah, the natural sounds of the drying husks rubbing together combined with the crackles from the nearby fire and the confusion in the other section of the fields as people started to notice the orange lights, my senses were effectively blanketed.

I was about to propel myself over the field and try flying again when a sharp crack rang out, and the stalk next to me exploded. I whirled in time to avoid the next bullet aimed at me, charging toward Kramer with vicious intentness. He’d landed those shots before because I was walking very slowly with Sarah bracing herself on my shoulder, but he wouldn’t get that lucky again.

I wrenched the gun away from him, taking ruthless pleasure in sending it sailing off as far as I could throw it. Silver bullets wouldn’t hurt him, so the gun was useless to me. He snarled as he tried to force me to the ground, but I used his wide stance against him by ramming my knee into his groin with enough force to pulverize his parts.

“Who’s crying now, motherfucker?” I spat, using that same knee to blast into his face when he doubled over. Those impacts hurt me, but not as much as they did him, and knowing that made my pain sweet. I sent another brutal hammer into his side, then another one, and another one.

Kramer fell back, unable to protect himself against the blows that came faster than he could react. The ghost had spent centuries dishing out punishment, but from his ineffective counterattacks, he hadn’t spent enough time learning how to defend against it. Battle lust surged through my veins, fueled by the rage I’d held back while Kramer was pawing at me and the knowledge of all the people who’d been unable to fight back due to the superstition and unfairness of the age they lived in. My blows rained down harder and quicker, every nasty, effective trick Bones taught me bearing glorious fruit in the hoarse grunts of pain coming from Kramer as he tried to shield himself.

No, you don’t get away! I thought, increasing my attack when he attempted to crawl out of range of my fists and feet. Especially not tonight.

Just when I was at the height of the euphoric high from delivering a well-deserved beat down, calamity struck.

. . . light over there . . . that’s fire! . . . got to get out of here . . . where are the kids? . . . oh my God, the crops! . . . help, someone help me!

A hundred different voices assailed my mind at the same instant, as debilitating as a karate kick to the face. I clutched my head before I could stop myself, backing away from Kramer in a blind attempt to run before he noticed that I’d stopped beating the shit out of him. But that merciless cascade of voices chased me as I went, growing in volume as if fueled by my agitation.

Kramer launched himself at me with the same single-minded determination I’d showed with him. This time, it was me who couldn’t field the blows fast enough as those voices hammered away in my mind, taking my focus away during the critical split seconds between ducking a kick or punch and having one land with devastating effect. His tackle brought me to my knees, and then a sharp crack to my back had me bent over with pain shooting up my spine. Kramer drew back his foot to kick me again—and his leg was yanked upward. He fell back and was pounced upon by a beautiful brunette who, at the moment, was as solid as he was.

“Run, Cat!” Elisabeth urged me, pounding away at her murderer.

I didn’t run. I waited with overflowing gratitude while Elisabeth gave me the precious moments needed to force the voices down to levels where they didn’t cripple me with distraction. By the time Kramer had regained the upper hand, throwing her to the ground and landing punishing blows to her midsection, I was on my feet, a fresh surge of determination cascading through me. If Elisabeth was here, then Bones couldn’t be far behind.

I launched myself onto the Inquisitor, ripping my fangs through the back of his neck hard enough to sever every tendon. The foulest taste filled my mouth—not blood, but something damp and moldy like it had come from the ground. I spat it out but kept ripping at his neck because it made him scream with pain and stop punching Elisabeth. She vanished underneath in the next moment, appearing beside me in her usual vaporous, hazy state.

“I can’t help you any more!” she said in anguish. “I don’t have the strength to remain solid.”

Kramer tried to get up, but I rammed my knee into his back hard enough to cripple a normal person and tore a larger hunk out of his neck, spitting it out before answering her.

“You already gave me the help I needed.”

Kramer said something to her in German, unbelievably able to talk despite what I’d done to his neck. I caught the word “hure” amidst the others and snaked an elbow around his throat, pulling up with all my might.

I felt an abrupt lessening of tension, fell backward from my momentum and not having anything to grasp anymore, but when I sprang to my feet, Kramer was also on his. Not only did he still have a head, but the damage I’d done to his neck looked completely healed.

“You can’t kill me, Hexe,” Kramer said, poison dripping off each word. “I am beyond your powers.”

“I’m going to show you that you’re not,” I snarled.

“Why do you fight?” he demanded. “Though you and the others live now, you cannot run from me forever, and you will never trick me into one of your cunning traps.”

I looked up at the sky behind him and smiled, feeling a familiar swell of unadulterated power wash over me.

“You’re right. I’m in no shape to fly you 250 miles to where our new trap is.” Kramer’s victorious smile ebbed when I added, “But I bet my husband’s up for the job.”

Kramer turned around just in time to have a dark form blast into him with enough force to dig a deep furrow into the ground.

“And they say I can’t land without making a mess,” I commented to no one in particular.