Crimson Debt Read online

  As fast as vamps move, I shouldn’t have been able to get off a single shot. But for some reason—maybe because he was wounded or maybe because he wanted to play with me—Roderick was just slow enough for me to squeeze the trigger.

  At the same time I shouted, “Corbin, down!”

  The gun roared. Corbin dropped like a stone just in time for the bullet to whiz by and bury itself in Roderick’s left shoulder.

  Now, a bullet to the shoulder isn’t normally a killing shot. But as I’ve said before, my bullets are special—hollow points filled with liquid silver nitrate that acts like acid once it touches vamp flesh.

  So what should have happened was this: the bullet should have ploughed into Roderick, exploding and expanding, vaporizing his shoulder and a good part of his chest. Then the silver would spray everywhere, eating into his flesh like a fast acting acid, gouging holes in his face and arms and hands—everywhere it sprayed on impact. At this point, Roderick should have fallen to his knees, screaming and clawing at the burning silver that continued to eat its way into him like a rat gnawing cheese. He should have continued in agony until the silver reached his heart or brain or I had mercy on him and shot him again—this time in the head.

  That is not what happened.

  Oh, the bullet did plough into him and it made a very large hole—one big enough to see through, actually. I knew because I could see the tasteful Klimt painting Corbin had hanging on the wall behind his desk through it.

  But then, instead of expanding, the hole began to shrink. And instead of eating into his skin, the silver nitrate seemed to dissipate. It was as though he was somehow repelling it. Or maybe his flesh was actually taking it in—ingesting it and neutralizing it, somehow.

  For whatever the reason, shooting Roderick did nothing—well, nothing but enrage him.

  “You little cunt,” he snarled. “That hurt!”

  His face grew white and frightening and his eyes, already blood red, blazed like flames. Looking into them, I was sure I could see my death—the only bright side was that I had probably pissed him off enough to kill me immediately instead of toying with me first. Still, I wasn’t going to stand there and wait for death to come to me—I was going to fight it.

  I fired again and again, squeezing the trigger reflexively, but Roderick was too fast. He dodged around the room as I shot, always one step ahead of my bullets. One of them went wild and I saw the priceless Ming vase, which Roderick had put carefully on a chair earlier, shatter as a result. Oops. Well, that was probably the first and last time I would do over a million dollars' worth of damage with one shot. Too bad I was too busy trying to stay alive to enjoy it.

  I kept squeezing the trigger until suddenly the gun clicked instead of roaring. I stared at it, uncomprehending at first. Finally it hit me, empty—it was empty. I had nothing to defend myself with now.

  Roderick realized it too. Suddenly he was right in front of me, leering like a death’s head, his face a white horror mask of rage and greed.

  “Well, my dear, it seems you’re all out of ammunition.” His voice was distorted to a weird, shrieking howl and the breath blowing in my face smelled like the snake cage at the zoo. Ugh.

  “Looks like it.” I looked at my gun. Well, even without bullets, it could still be a weapon, though I doubted Roderick realized it. And he was so busy leering at me, he probably wasn’t expecting another attack.

  If you’ve never pimp-slapped a vampire with an empty Glock, well, I can’t say I recommend it. It might break their nose—I heard Roderick’s crunch as I slugged him with the gun as hard as I could. But that doesn’t help when they heal almost immediately—it only pisses them off.

  “Little bitch!” he hissed, coming for me again. “You’ll regret that—for a thousand years you’ll regret it.”

  “Roderick!” Corbin called from behind him.

  Looking over the angry vampire’s shoulder, I saw Corbin pulling something out of his inside suit jacket. Something long and sharp and lethal looking—a black metal stake. My eyes had a brief instant to notice that the stake was carved all over with intricate silver curlicues and markings, almost like runes—and then Corbin plunged it into Roderick’s back.

  The vampire Inquisitor gasped, stiffened, and dropped to his knees. Such was the force of Corbin’s blow that the black and silver stake protruded a full three inches from the front of his chest.

  Finally! I thought with a surge of relief. Something that affects him—something to take the bastard down!

  And he was down—down but still moving, which disturbed me. A stake through the heart—especially one with any kind of silver—was usually the end of a vamp, no matter how powerful they were. But Roderick was still hanging on. His eyes opened and closed and his mouth moved like a fish trying to breathe air instead of water.

  I frowned—he should have been completely dead. I could tell by the placement that Corbin had skewered his heart like a piece of steak on a shish kabob. The silver rune-like markings were covered in blood—blood so black it looked like tar. As I watched, they began to move—writhing like centipedes along the black shaft protruding from Roderick’s chest.

  And then the unthinkable happened—Roderick grasped the stake and pulled it free. He rose to his feet, the jagged wound in his chest sealing itself as I watched. What the hell? Could nothing kill this son of a bitch?

  Turning to Corbin, he began to laugh. At first it was a breathless sound but then, presumably as his lungs healed themselves, it was more full throated.

  “A silver-worked stake,” he cried. “Is that all you could think of? You thought you could kill me with this?” And he threw it point first at Corbin, like an athlete tossing a javelin.

  Corbin caught it in mid-flight and flipped it, turning the point toward himself. It made me nervous to see that wicked silver tip hovering so near his heart.

  “I know I can,” he said coldly.

  And then he drove the stake into his chest.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Corbin! Oh my God, Corbin, what did you do?” I gasped as he sank to his knees. There was red blood on the stake now—Corbin’s blood and, as before, the silver rune snakes were writhing and curling along the black shaft that protruded from his chest.

  “Addison,” he whispered, his voice strained.

  “No!” I rushed to him, heedless of Roderick or any danger he might still represent. “No! Oh, no, no, no.”

  Horrified tears filled my eyes. Emotions were flooding me—regret for all the harsh words that had passed between us, overwhelming sorrow at the idea of losing Corbin, anger at myself for my own stupidity in pushing him away…

  “No,” I cried again. “No, I won’t lose you like this—I can’t!”

  I reached for the stake, prepared to pull it out but Corbin knocked my hands away.

  “Stop,” he muttered. “Must give…enough time to feed. A life for…a life.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded, blinking away tears. “What has to feed? These things?” I touched one of the writhing silver runes and pulled my hand back immediately. “Ow! The damn thing bit me! Corbin, what the hell is going on?”

  “Did…what was…necessary.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry…I’ll…be fine.”

  “You’re kidding—you just drove a stake through your own chest! How the hell are you going to be fine after that?” I demanded.

  “Fine,” he insisted and even had the nerve to smile at me.

  “What—?” I began but then a strangled moan from Roderick tore my eyes away. I nearly choked when I saw what was happening to the vampire Inquisitor.

  Roderick had sunk to his knees again and this time he didn’t look like he was going to get back up. His face, formerly white, had turned a dirty gray and veins were standing out all over his body like worms crawling just under the surface of his skin. As I watched, his eyes turned from red to black and then they simply dried up and caved in, leaving empty sockets staring back at me. His skin dried up too—wrinklin