That made my four-year pin look kinda pathetic. The tall, broad-shouldered vampire who’d been my boss for eight months and my sverhamin for two carried within him an arsenal so formidable it had allowed him to survive nearly three hundred years, eighty of which he’d spent with the CIA. Though he looked a lot more vulnerable than I did at first glance, his opponents were never deceived for long. Vayl held the cane he always carried, an artisan’s dream that hid a sword as lethal as its owner. Everything else sat in the worn black case I wore on my back. I’d tucked three throwing knives up my left sleeve just in case, and a bola inherited from my great-great-granddad rode in a leather pocket that ran down my right thigh. A syringe of holy water nested in the spring-loaded sheath I kept strapped around my right wrist. I also carried my usual array of backup weaponry.
My gun, Grief, the Walther PPK Bergman had modified for me so it could take down humans or vamps, rode in my shoulder holster. Most of our gear was still packed, including the new high-tech weapons Bergman had brought for the Special Ops guys - which would’ve come in pretty damn handy. We stood a hundred yards from the tiny white farmhouse at which we’d arranged to meet the elite troops who would help us complete our next mission. As we’d watched our Chinook fade into the night sky the monsters had attacked. My boss, Vayl, and I had just finished unloading our supplies with the help of our three-person crew. I nodded, appreciating the fact that he’d listened. “They drop like stones if you hit ’em in the forehead.” Gunfire boomed in my ears, the sergeant crouched next to me yelling with triumph as his target fell. “Vayl,” I whispered, my eyes somehow tracking straight to his in my final moment.įor Ben. The reaver, a live one, grinned wide enough to show the gap between his front teeth as his finger squeezed the trigger. Is that possible? Oh Jesus, was that Terrence’s leg? Don’t turn your head. Is anybody murmuring a spell? How the hell can I tell? We are so outnumbered! Did Ashley just go down? My God, I think the semi is farther away than ever. So should I just run off into the night like some rabid raccoon and hope I luck into him? How stupid is that? Plus, it’s not him. He could be around here somewhere, pulling their strings. Oh Jesus! Oh crap! Zombies! The Wizard’s a necromancer. Not all of them made sense, but a skilled translator might put them in the following light: Multiple thoughts streaked through my mind simultaneously. “The dead are rising!”Īll around us the reavers we’d defeated the first time around had rediscovered vertical. Jennifer Rardin - Jaz Parks Book 3 - Biting The Bullet
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