This Side of the Grave

Chapter Twenty-­eight

Crickets chirped in a continual cadence around us, most of them hidden in the grass. Mosquitoes, though I could see them buzzing nearby, left me and Vlad alone. Guess they didn’t like undead blood, which was probably a good thing. The world had problems enough without hordes of immortal mosquitoes being added to the mayhem.

Vlad lounged on a headstone, watching me silently. I’d chosen to go to the older section of the cemetery, not just because it was farthest from the road and any random passersby. It was also because, quite irrelevantly, I thought it was prettier. The simple upside-down U-shaped headstones and crosses reminded me of the cemeteries around where I grew up. They were the first place I tried when hunting for vampires as a teenager, but I never found any in them. It didn’t take long for me to realize that vampires tended to hang out in places where the living gathered, instead of surrounding themselves with the inedible dead.

No other vampires or ghouls might be here except us, but we weren’t the only supernatural beings lurking in the dark. I felt the tingles in the air, hanging like an invisible fog, marking the presence of residual energy from nonsentient ghosts. Every once in a while, a stronger pulse would ride the air, and I’d glance toward its source just in time to glimpse a faint silhouette before it disappeared. This cemetery had more than just residual ghosts, but I’d worry about them later. After I found out if I could do what I came out here to do.

“While I’m young . . .” Vlad drew out.

“You haven’t been young since the fourteen hundreds, a few more minutes aren’t going to make any difference,” I muttered, but then tried to focus on that buzz of energy in the air. Maybe that was the door that led to wherever the Remnants slumbered, when they weren’t being yanked into this reality. I tried to drop all my emotional shields, leaving myself open to the magic that I knew still resided in my blood from Marie.

Flashes of silver zoomed right for me from all sides, so fast I wouldn’t have had time to draw my knife even if that would have done any good. In the next instant, I was staring at five ghosts, two of them male, the other three female, one of whom was a child. All looked back at me expectantly.

“Yes?” the ghost with the old-style bushy mustache asked, as if growing impatient that I hadn’t said anything.

“Ah, sorry to disturb you,” I began, feeling very weirded out by the ghostly little girl. She had on a cap with strings and a hazy gown that hung to her feet. A nightgown, I realized, one whose style hadn’t been common for a hundred years or more. I’d never seen a child phantom before, and it made me unsure how to respond. It seemed wrong to order a little kid away without an explanation, especially when I’d probably woken her up.

Behind the spectral figures, Vlad whisked his wrist in the universal gesture for hurry it up.

“I didn’t mean to call you,” I went on, before he said anything rude to them. “I’m, uh, here for something else. Sorry I bothered you. Please, go back to whatever you were doing, and don’t mention we were here tonight.”

Without a word, the ghosts dispersed, the little girl vanishing just as quickly as the others. I fought the urge to call them back and ask if anyone took care of her. We were on a timetable, and Vlad might set my clothes on fire if I started questioning whether the little girl floated out here alone, or under appropriate ghostly guardianship.

But after a solid ten minutes of standing there with my eyes closed, leaving myself open to the unearthly energy in the air and trying to will the Remnants into being, I opened them with a sigh.

“It’s not working. We need to try something else.”

Vlad arched a brow. “We? I can’t help you with this, Cat.”

“Yes you can,” I replied, coming toward him. “Nerves, anger, or fighting seem to flare up my borrowed powers. I’m nervous about this, but clearly not nervous enough. So hit me. Hard. See if that gets me mad enough to do the trick.”

Bones had kicked my flying abilities into gear by throwing me off a bridge—but there weren’t any bridges here. If Vlad and I had a fair sparring session, that might prove counterproductive because I’d probably enjoy testing myself against the Master vampire. But not defending myself while getting pummeled would go against all my instincts as a fighter, and I was betting pain would instinctively trigger my anger even if I knew the logic behind it.

I’d been on my feet when I made the pronouncement, but was on my ass in the next second, my chest burning from a punch that felt like it crushed all my ribs. Looked like Vlad didn’t need me to cajole him into doffing his chivalry long enough to comply!

“That’s a good one,” I managed, grimacing at the pain of my bones reknitting themselves together. “Do it again.”

Vlad’s brown hair fell across his shoulders as he leaned down to pull me to my feet. “As you wish.”

This time, I was braced, but all that meant was I stayed on my feet instead of landing on my ass when Vlad unleashed another sledgehammer, this one into the softer area of my stomach. Technically, body shots were easier to recover from than a blow to the head, so he was being courteous in that regard, but technicalities faded into insignificance at the pain blasting through me. At least it wasn’t followed by the sound of my ribs snapping like the last time.

“Goddamn, that hurts,” I muttered, bending over in reflex.

A snort ruffled the top of my hair. “I assumed you weren’t looking for something that would tickle.”

So saying, Vlad let fly another blow, this one to my side. I staggered back, anger flaring.

“You can’t even give me a second to recover in between? It’s a wonder you’re still single, Tepesh!”

“Getting pissed now, though, aren’t you?” he replied, without the slightest hint of remorse. “Quit bellyaching, Reaper. I’ve seen you in battle. You can take far worse than this.”

Yeah, well, in battle it was kill or be killed, so adrenaline kicked in, acting like morphine for the pain. This, on the other hand, just hurt seven ways from Sunday. But he was right. The pain and frustration over not letting myself fight back was making me angry. In the past, that was a good sign when it came to accessing my borrowed powers.

“If this is the best you can manage, I suppose it’ll have to do,” I said, to egg him on. I’d need a rougher attack than this to get me good and steamed. “Just thought you should know, though—Bones hits so much harder than you do.”

He gave a bark of laughter before another blow sent me flying into a tree before slumping to the ground. Now my entire front and back hurt. I was definitely getting riled, yet still nothing happened as far as Remnant activity. Either this wasn’t working or I had to get a whole lot madder, fast.

I shook myself off as I sprang up, watching Vlad approach with far more slowness than he’d use if we were sparring for real.

“That last one was better, but quit punching like a girl,” I said. “Take off the leash. Just don’t knock me into any of the headstones. This is a nice cemetery. Breaking them would be disrespectful.”

Vlad let out something that sounded like a sigh. “You asked for it.”

I fought my instinctive urge to defend myself when I saw his arm wind up. I didn’t even let myself brace, the thought flittering through my head that it was a damn good thing Bones couldn’t see the two of us right now, or he’d be furious.

Then all mental reflections cleared my head at the exact same instant that Vlad’s fist landed there. Stars exploded in my mind, followed by a flash of searing pain and blackness. When I could see again, I was vaguely amazed that little blue birdies doing a slow circle above me weren’t the first things that met my vision.

“Again,” I said, wondering if it was actually possible for me to throw up. From the throbbing in my head, it might be.

The next blow took me across the jaw. My teeth snapped together hard enough that I was surprised I wasn’t chewing them. Blood dripped from my mouth. Vlad saw it, gave a slight, dismissive shrug that made me want to thump him, and raised his fist for another strike.

It never landed. I felt like ice flashed through my veins even as a shield of transparent bodies formed over me, deflecting Vlad’s blow as if they were made of solid diamond instead of only vaporous air. He stared at them with grim triumph as that shield of Remnants grew into a wall—and then fell on top of him.

“Good, it worked,” Vlad gritted out even as his whole body was smothered by them. “Magnificent weapon. This hurts . . . absolutely everywhere.”

Voices echoed all around me, some as low as growls and others in pitches so high they sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Vlad was right; it obviously worked. Now came the really hard part. I’d raised them, but I had to get them off him. It was hard to concentrate with them bombarding my mind with more voices than I could ever count. If I had any hope at controlling them, I needed to use the same techniques I’d developed while learning to keep humans’ thoughts from overwhelming me. Focus on one voice. Tune into it. Make everything else fade into the background.

“Vlad, talk,” I urged him. It was better to stay focused on his voice instead of getting lost in the myriad whispers of the grave. I scrambled to my feet, only then realizing that I’d been on the ground with his last blow.

“Rather busy . . . at the moment,” I heard amidst the whirl of other sounds.

“I need your voice,” I insisted, shivering convulsively. I was so cold. So tired. So hungry.

Vlad began to sing, words hoarse from his obvious pain. It took me several moments to feel in control of myself enough to focus on him alone—and to be amazed that Vlad knew the lyrics to “Run This Town.” I shook that off as I stared at him. His entire body was covered in Remnants, and I tried to ignore the tie I felt to them. The icy, ravenous hunger that threatened to blind me to everything else.

“Get off him,” I said to the sinuous, writhing forms.

Nothing happened. Not one of them even paused in their assault on him to look at me.

“Get off him,” I repeated, putting all my fear at what would happen if they didn’t into my voice.

Still the Remnants slithered over Vlad, coiling on and through him. His body arched in a way that was all too familiar, telling of his agony even if he wouldn’t let himself scream. Flames broke out across his hands, but the Remnants didn’t move to avoid them, nor did the fire seem to do them any damage when they slithered over them. Why would they? my mind supplied in rising fear. Remnants were made of energy and air. Two things that had never been harmed by fire before.

“Go back to your graves right now,” I tried again, this time desperation edging my tone. Still, they didn’t even slow in their movements, or seem to hear me at all. I’d pulled them from the other side, but just as I feared, I now had no control over them. My worst-case scenario was playing out right in front of me as I saw Vlad twist in a futile effort to get away from the Remnants that just kept right on devouring him, growing stronger from his pain and energy while he grew weaker.

Then an idea seized me as I watched the flames on his hands. They did nothing to harm the Remnants, but they would sure as hell hurt me.

“Vlad, hit me with a fireball,” I breathed. “Passing out last time was what severed my connection with the Remnants, I think.”

It was worth a shot. If I was no longer connected to them, maybe they’d automatically go back to where they came from. I had to try something new. My commands were useless and Vlad couldn’t last much longer like this.

“No.” The single word was filled with pain, but no less emphatic. “You’ll learn . . . to control them . . . if it kills me.”

“It will kill you, dammit,” I snapped in growing panic.

“Less bitching . . . more learning,” Vlad grated. Then he closed his eyes, as if dismissing me. “I know, I’m delicious. Nummy . . . nummy,” he muttered to the Remnants feasting on him. Fire continued to drip from his hands, but he didn’t send any of those flames my way. Terror and anger rose in me at the sight of the Remnants moving even faster through his body. They were growing stronger, gaining the energy they’d need to kill him, and he was letting them.

“You’re going to die if you don’t flame me out of commission! Think of your people!” I yelled, growing desperate as nothing I did, even pulling on the Remnants with my hands, seemed to make them leave Vlad alone.

At that, his eyes snapped open, emerald green and sizzling with both agony and resolve. “I am . . . so learn,” he rasped.

I let out a scream of pure frustration. Nothing I said would convince Vlad to harm me. Not if he thought he was protecting his people by sacrificing himself.

Fine. If Vlad wouldn’t deliver the blow that would take me out of commission, I’d do it myself.

I curled my fist and rammed it as hard as I could into the side of my head. Grass met my vision as I knocked myself over, but one glance at Vlad revealed the Remnants still hadn’t budged from him. Son of a bitch. I needed something harder than my hands.

A wide headstone caught my eye, an angel carved into the surface. I sent a mental apology to whoever’s grave it covered even as I also cast a fast prayer upward to please let this work.

Then I ran toward the tombstone as fast as I could, my body bent, leading with my head like it was a red flag and I was a bull.

Pain exploded in my mind. That wasn’t the only thing that shattered, judging from the shards of granite I saw when my eyes opened. I’d plowed right through the grave marker to land in the grass beyond. I shook my head to clear it, feeling blood running in a few thin lines down from my crown, and swung around to look for Vlad again.

A sharp cry of relief escaped me when I saw all the Remnants had picked their heads up from him. They were looking at me, their deadly assault on him suspended. Vlad began to back away and they didn’t move to jump on him again, but kept staring at me in frozen expectation. For a stunned moment, I wasn’t sure what had done the trick. It wasn’t passing out; they were all still here. Was destroying a tombstone with my head somehow the magic word to them? But then, as I felt those wet trails edging further down my face, it hit me.

Blood. That was their remote control. The Remnants had only appeared after Vlad bloodied my lip, just like they’d only appeared after Marie sliced her wrist with that little mini dagger in her ring. She must have cut herself with it again to draw them off when I wasn’t looking. That would have been easy; I’d been staring in horror at Bones more than focusing on her. The fresh blood from my head was enough to get them to stop chewing on Vlad, but it would soon heal like my lip had. I couldn’t let them turn on Vlad again. He couldn’t take much more.

I didn’t bother taking the time to pull out one of my knives, but slammed my hand onto the jagged, sharp remains of the headstone, inflicting another deep laceration.

“All right, you deadly little ghostlings,” I muttered. “Mama says go back to bed!”