Out of the Shadows 024
A 5-star machine-augmented MIDNIGHT'S WAR novel
The blast was tremendous, turning the yellow cab into a ball of fire and twisted metal. Shrapnel whistled overhead, embedding itself in the restaurant’s facade. Car alarms shrieked. People screamed. Somehow in the chaos, Elliott’s newly enhanced senses picked up the specific threats—two figures dropping from fire escapes on opposite sides of the street, the homeless man throwing off his ragged coat to reveal tactical gear, the woman with the umbrella drawing something from beneath her raincoat.
“Airbows!” Marcus hissed, pressing Elliott lower as a carbon-fiber bolt sparked off the concrete inches from his head, followed moments later by another, then a third. The bolts were coming too fast to be traditional crossbows. “They know what we are.”
Elliott’s mind raced. Airbows, designed for rapid fire and powered by compressed air, meant the hit team knew they were dealing with vampires. The explosion had been a herding tactic, more designed to set them off balance and drive them into a kill zone than take them out. This wasn’t a corporate affair—this was something much more professional than that.
“Move!” the female bodyguard commanded, producing a compact submachine gun from somewhere inside her tailored suit. She laid down suppressing fire as Marcus hauled Elliott toward the burning wreckage of the taxi, using it as cover.
Another bolt hissed past, close enough that Elliott felt the wind of its passage. The shooter was good—perhaps too good to be human. Professional vampire hunters? But working for whom?
They ducked behind the twisted metal as more bolts sparked off the pavement, this time from two more directions. Dammit, how many of them were there? Elliott’s enhanced vision caught little details his human eyes would have missed—the bolts were tipped with silver, their shafts marked with symbols that looked ecclesiastical. Religious hunters? Or just professionals who were aware of one of his unexpected new vulnerabilities?
“We’re pinned,” Marcus observed with preternatural calm after firing two shots from his pistol. “Four shooters, elevated positions. They’ll have the car covered too.”
“Can you get to them?” he asked his bodyguards.
The woman—he really needed to learn her name—smiled, showing just a hint of fang. “Oh yes. But our priority is your safety. Medici was very specific about that.”
“I’m harder to kill than I used to be,” Elliott reminded her.
“Don’t be overconfident,” Marcus countered. “Those crossbow bolts are designed for our kind. Silver tips, probably coated with something nasty. One good hit and even an old one like me would be in trouble. A fledgling like you? You’d be ash before you hit the ground.”
Fledgling. The term rankled, but Elliott couldn’t argue with his logic. A few months of being a vampire didn’t trump centuries of experience.
A new sound cut through the chaos—sirens, still distant but approaching fast. The hunters would have to make their move soon or risk exposure. Elliott tensed, ready for the assault.
The answer was a coordinated volley of twelve bolts. Elliott’s bodyguards moved faster than human eyes could follow, deflecting some bolts and dodging others. But there were too many, coming too fast, from too many directions. One caught Marcus in the shoulder, spinning him around with a grunt of pain. Another grazed the woman’s thigh, leaving a smoking wound that made her hiss.
This was bad. Even with their advantages of vampire speed and strength, they were outnumbered and outpositioned. The hunters had planned the trap well, turning the urban environment into a killing field.
That’s when Elliott heard something else—a sound like silk across stone, coming from above. He looked up to see a pair of shadows detaching themselves from the buildings, flowing down the walls like living darkness.
The hunters noticed too late. The first shadow resolved into a figure in black, landing behind one of the sewer team. A hand blurred, and the hunter’s head separated from his shoulders in a spray of arterial blood. The other shadow took the second hunter in gloved hands, grabbing his head before twisting with lethal force.
Within seconds, the tactical advantage had reversed. The shadows—more vampire security, Elliott realized—mowed through the team of hunters like scythes through unsuspecting wheat. These weren’t just bodyguards. These were Medici’s special killers, old vampires who’d perfected the art of death over centuries.
One hunter managed to get off a shot, his crossbow bolt catching a shadow-vampire in the shoulder. The ancient creature looked down at the protruding shaft with mild annoyance, plucked it out, and threw it back hard enough to punch through the hunter’s tactical vest and sternum.
“No!” The last remaining hunter cried out in protest.
His cries cut off as the other shadow-vampire appeared behind him, moving faster than Elliott’s enhanced vision could properly track. A pale hand wrapped around the hunter’s throat, lifting him off his feet.
“Who sent you?” the vampire asked, her voice carrying the slight accent of Eastern Europe. “Who owns you?”
The frantic hunter spat something in Spanish. Elliott only caught the words for ‘devil’ and ‘hell’ before the vampire grew bored and crushed his larynx. She dropped the corpse with fastidious distaste, then turned to address Elliott.
“Lord Medici sends his regards,” she said formally. “And his apologies for the inconvenience caused by these would-be assassins as well. We did not expect a direct attack so soon.”
Elliott stood slowly, assessing the carnage. In less than twelve seconds, four highly-trained professional vampire hunters had been reduced to mutilated corpses. The efficiency was terrifying, even to someone who’d thought himself well-adjusted to the violent realities of his new existence.
“Thank you,” he managed. “I assume you’ve been following me?”
“Since you left the villa,” she confirmed. “Lord Medici anticipated that your withdrawal from the public markets might provoke reactions of one sort or another. Although perhaps not one quite so well-funded as this.”
