As the last of the information finished transferring, Pakow ripped the chip from the slot and ran for the stairs.

He knew Wake was lying about getting him home, but that didn’t matter to him now.

If I play this right, maybe I can force him to give me my freedom.

Pakow took a left at the head of the stairs as another explosion rocked the compound.

Ducking falling debris, he thought about Wake’s command concerning the red button. He knew that Wake had mined the compound a year before with just such an emergency as this in mind. Explosives? Why bother? These people are serious about pulling this place down, and I think they’re well on their way.

He reached the tunnel entrance, a door on the sixth level marked “Janitorial,” and pressed his palm to the lock. A sharp prick and a few seconds for the computer to analyze his genetic code, then the door swung inward, showing a dimly lit tunnel carved out of bedrock.

“There!”

The voice came from down the hall behind him, and even as Pakow started forward, he heard the rattle of automatic gunfire.

Pain erupted in his neck and back, twisting him into the tunnel. He rolled onto his back, then used his left foot to push the door shut just as two men in battle armor reached it.

He was safe, at least for the moment. There was no way they could breach that door without major explosives, and it would only respond to his and Wake’s gene codes.

The pain in his neck caused his head to spin, but a quick self-examination let him know it was nothing compared to the wound in his back.

He flexed his knees, and his legs responded, though movement was excruciating. Pakow lay there for a second, letting the stone floor cool his suddenly hot face.

After a moment, the pain seemed to ease somewhat, and he realized he wasn’t going to die, at least not yet.

With a titanic effort, he pulled himself uptight, using the rough wall for support.

The tunnel was nearly four hundred meters in length, stretching out of sight in front of him. With labored steps, he began to move forward, concentrating on Shiva’s face to give him the strength to do anything more than lay down and go to sleep.

Marco’s eyes suddenly popped open. He was awake, and his head ached with the hunger for blood. That was the first thing he was aware of. The second was the smell of something burning, and the heavy dust in the air.

A mighty concussion shocked him upright, sending a ripple of agony down his spine and tangling him in the plastic tent over him.

With a vicious snarl, he ripped away the plastic and took account. He knew immediately what had happened, that he’d been tricked. The small, aching feeling in his chest came from being in stasis, Looking to his left, he understood how he’d escaped Oslo Wake’s planned double-cross. A gaping hole in the wall showed flashing light from outside. Someone, or something, had ripped open the wall and allowed air back into the room.

He could hear the sounds of gunfire and the screams of dying men and vampires. The compound was under attack again. He didn’t know who it was for sure, but he had a pretty good guess that Fratellanza men were fighting out there.

Julius must have found out that I’ve been kept against my will. He brought a force to free me. Together, he and I will make you pay for your treachery, Oslo Wake.

Willing his body to be lighter than air, Marco D’imato became a mist form that drifted out through the new opening in the wall, and straight into the battle.

36

Banshee. Noxplorator letalis. This creature is indistinguishable from an elf save that it may appear very gaunt. The creature wails, instilling fear to the point of blind panic in its prey, which will flee in mindless terror. The banshee rarely shows any restraint, almost always draining a victim in the initial attack.

– 

from Guide to Paranormal Creatures of North America: Awakened Animals, by E F. Paterson, MIT amp;T Press, Cambridge, 2050

The swirling black receded and Rachel found that she could stand. Again. She had watched Sinunu stake Truxa, and the banshee’s howl was still like an ice storm under her skin. She’d continued to fight until all the vampires were dead, and then had gone on fighting after that. She’d help Sinunu push what remained of their force toward the front of the building, hoping to crush the vampires between themselves and Julius’ men.

Rachel estimated that more than ninety vampires had died, though that number was skewed due to the fact that several of them were infected Fratellanza men from the assault a couple days ago.

And despite all the killing, despite all the anger she’d channeled into the fight, she couldn’t get Truxa’s last scream out of her mind. That howl haunted Rachel as she and Sinunu and de Vries made their way across the battlefield, pausing now and then to stake anyone, Fratellanza or not, who looked as if he or she might be able to get back up.

Dead bodies lay like chaff on ground, which had been dusty and gray, but was now a muck of volcanic ash and black blood. The shell-shocked survivors were still busy, staking men who had once been their friends and carring off bodies to the large pyres that were burning across the landscape. Short Eyes had slotted the priest chip at some time during the fighting, and refused to take the chip out. So now she was giving last riles to the ones about to be staked, her body soaked in blood and mud, her face filled with holy glee.

Across the grotesque landscape. Rachel could make out the loading docks and a trio of figures standing there, the center one being supported by the other two. Even without her helmet’s enhanced sighting, she could distinguished the silver hair of Julius on the right and the red hair of Biggs on the left. And in the middle…

Suddenly, her exhaustion was forgotten as she started to run. Sinunu stumbled behind her, but de Vries caught and supported her as they followed close behind.

Rachel reached the loading dock, and Julius flashed her a tight grin, full of pain. Biggs looked exhausted beyond comprehension as he and Julius laid Warren on the floor. “Killian!” Julius yelled. “Killian! Where the frag is that mage?”

“Here, sir,” came his voice.

“Heal him.” Julius said.

As the mage spoke in low tones, Rachel walked over to Warren, feeling a sense of apprehension she couldn’t quite place. Kneeling down, she put her hands on his face, which was hot and sweaty. “Honey?”

Warren’s head lolled for a moment, then slowly his eyes opened. Rachel felt a huge weight fall from her shoulders as she saw the light of sanity in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what Warren had been subjected to here, and she feared the worst.

“Rach?” Warren’s voice was slurred.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.” Rachel felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Had a bad dream,” said Warren.

“Go back to sleep.”

Killian finished his enchantment as de Vries walked up with Sinunu. “He’ll be all right,” he said. “Just needs rest.”

Behind them, de Vries held Sinunu, keeping her from collapsing to floor.

In front of Rachel Biggs looked up. “She gonna make it?” Rachel turned and looked at Sinunu, her white skin positively blue from blood loss.

“She’s about had it,” de Vries said. “Massive internal injuries, enough broken bones to make a combat biker blush, but she’ll pull through. I can help her, as long as we can get her some place where her wounds won’t come in contact with all the blood on the ground. Some of the virus might still be viable, and… He didn’t finish his sentence, but Rachel could tell by the look in his eyes that even the famed vampire hunter would have a hard time putting a stake in Sin if she were infected.