Vampire Babylon - Break Of Dawn Part 33

Elites can walk in sunlight because of drinking the Master's blood, she thought, but would they truly die by fire?

She pulled the trigger, flame heaving across the room and catching the last falling paper on fire, just like Paul Aspen's body. He writhed, moaning and screaming in fits while he slid down to the ground, caught in a conflagration. He yawed in a screech, his angelic beauty only an echo in the flames.

Before water could begin raining from the ceiling, Dawn gave him another blast, crisping him to a modern art sculpture-an eternal work that would last through the ages. An Elite would appreciate that.As moisture from the sprinkler system came down, she dropped the flamethrower, reached for a machete, and c.o.c.ked it as she jumped at the vampire.

With one swing, his toasted head went flying.

Time seemed to slow into itself, and Dawn took in what she'd done, water sluicing over her face. Paul's separated head was blackened, his mouth gnarled in a whimper. If her earring hadn't been embedded in the freakish charcoal of his flesh, she would've taken it, even though she had no right to the item. Not anymore.

Unlike with Robby's death, she didn't feel any twinge of guilt.

Then, as time sprayed back to normal, Paul's body sucked into nothing.

After cleaning the machete in the water, she went back to collect her dropped weapons and secure them, then reload her saw- bow. The ceiling stopped spraying, and Dawn withdrew out of her bag a capsule of healing unguent that Breisi had once concocted, smearing it on her torn ear. It neutralized the bleeding.

Then she grabbed her revolver, her saw-bow in her other hand, and made her way out of the soaked room. The blood had washed away from her skin but stained into her tank top like a new, pale red emblem.

Detached, she continued in the direction she'd seen Frank and Kiko run, but she didn't get far. She was stopped by Jesse Shane lingering by the door of the emporium, as if on watch.

Eyebrow raised in something like surprise, he smiled that killer smile. "This time when I ask you to play, I'm not going to take no for an answer."

Based on what Paul Aspen had said, Dawn knew Jesse realized that she was now on the Underground s.h.i.tlist, so she didn't take his invitation to Tiger Beat heart.

This was just part of how Elites fought, both Below and Above: with mind games. With finesse, until their willing victims realized that they hadn't been anything more than a diversion. A toy.

There would be more Elites waiting in the emporium, so she wasn't about to go inside. Besides, she needed to find Kiko and Frank. And where were the Friends since they'd disappeared from the Limpet house along with Costin?

And speaking of Costin . . .

A bruise seemed to swell in her chest at his name. With every pumped heartbeat it hurt more.

Meanwhile, Jesse grinned as he opened the emporium door, looking around behind her at the same time. Had he been expecting Paul to escort her?

The silence from inside the room spoke terrifying volumes.

He jerked his head toward the entrance teasingly, making his summons all the more ominous. His longish golden hair gleamed around his face as he gave a perfunctory glance to her wet appearance, her weapons bag, her saw-bow, and her drawn revolver.

Then he lingered over the blood on her shirt and ear, his nostrils flaring only slightly. Maybe the red was too washed out or tamed by Breisi's healing gel, she guessed. It wasn't a fresh temptation anymore.

"Paul Aspen wanted to show me a good time, too," Dawn said. "But I suspect you already know that."

The star raised a bare, muscled arm and leaned it against the wall in a s.e.xy, naughty pose. His eyes began to swirl with the release of his Allure.

But when Dawn blocked it, he raised an eyebrow, startled.Then he got p.i.s.sed.

"So what'd you do with Paul anyway?" He was just now acknowledging that Dawn had earned a killing reputation, that she had some mind powers. That she was wandering the halls away from the vampire who was supposed to have taught her a lesson.

"Paul made his last mistake with me," Dawn said, acting! for all she was worth. She was Cool Hand Luke right now.

Jesse lost his photo-spread posture, going into a stiff, readied stance instead. Now she wasn't just a toy anymore.

For a loaded second, it was a standoff, neither of them moving.

Don't lose your cool; just draw when you're ready. . . .

He false started, and she brought up her revolver.

But, in a flash, Jesse took her by the waist and tossed her into the emporium. She dropped her saw-bow in midflight: it wasn't a choice if she wanted to land right. Skidding and then balling into a series of rolls, she balanced up to her bandaged knees, aiming her .45 at the first streak of movement to catch her eye.

Yet, before she could fire, a whirlwind cry came from Jesse, and Dawn knew he'd gone into Danger Form.

He swiped at her with a tentacled arm, but she antic.i.p.ated him, jerking back just in time.

A blow from another one of his arms blasted her off her knees, sending her through the air, and she slammed into . . . something- she couldn't tell what it was at first because everything, including her bones, was ringing.

In the vibrating craziness of her vision, she focused on where she'd landed.

But she couldn't see much. Not unless you counted the Elites circling her, all in misty, flowing, ghost-angel Danger Form. Maybe thirty of them, if she wasn't seeing double.

Out of panic, Dawn pushed out with her mind to swat them away, yet nothing happened.

Angrier, she thought, you've got to be angrier. . . .

But, at the sight of their surrounding beauty, she wasn't. No, all she saw around her was the usual reluctant temptation, the in crowd, the startling perfection in every Danger Form.

You can be one of us. She witnessed that in their mist, and she was drawn to it down to the depths of her soul. It was something she couldn't resist, no matter how hard she tried.

Her head tilted as she felt peace hush through her, felt the inebriation of being accepted, even if it was only a fantasy stirred up by dis...o...b..bulation. . . .

Then she felt her body being picked up by cold tentacles, and an Elite vampire whipped her around to face its heavenly countenance. As Dawn recognized Rea Carvahal, something told her to grip her revolver. But she'd already dropped it.

Dawn tried not to get lost in the Elite's breathtaking beauty. Instead, she told herself to concentrate on the vampire's prideful ire shining through the mist.

"t.i.t for tat," the gorgeous vamp said, batting Dawn upside the head with a cloudy limb in imitation of what Dawn had done to Rea earlier.

The cuffing had a gonglike effect. In fact, when Rea tossed her away, Dawn didn't even realize it until she was halfway across the Elites' circle. Another vampire swatted her in midair-gong. Then another. Another.

They laughed at her, laughed and laughed.

With each smack, she flailed in helpless instinct, trying to grasp on to something but catching only air. With each progressively harsher punch, she groaned, her ribs sore, her body pummeled with more than just physical violence-with mortification, too.

They laughed harder. And harder.

Finally, one vampire missed, and Dawn hit the floor, barely avoiding dinging her face on the marble. There, they allowed her to gasp for breath. She felt pulverized, shamed.

"What about Eva?" she heard one of them say in the fuzz of her hearing. The voice was ethereal-angelic and demonic at the same time.

More laughter. Then someone answered in that same preternaturally tinged tone-male, female, Dawn couldn't think what gender it was.

"Screw Eva," that vamp said.

Hilarity ensued, and Dawn's throat tightened at the cruelty. She was back to being twelve, teased by the other Hollywood kids for being a tomboy and not having a mother to go home to.

Between the strands of their laughter, Dawn thought she heard something distant, out in the hall. A yell . . . maybe a cry.

The Groupies, the Guards . . . Was it them? Were they coming now, too?

As a pressure built from her chest to her throat, making her perspire with damp panic, she tried to push away from the floor. But a tentacle snapped out to slap her down. The side of her face met the marble, making it spike with pain.

A different Elite spoke up. "We heard you've been a bad, bad girl, Dawn. The Master's supposed to be mad at you-that's the rumor. And thinking you could walk around with weapons to use on us . . . ? Who do you think you are?"

Weapons-she needed them, just one of them. . . . Face smashed against the floor, Dawn snuck her hand under her belly, toward her bag.

"Do you think the Master would like to be in on this?" another asked.

Dawn touched something hard near the top of her bag. A silver-tipped stake-a close-range tool. She tried to dig deeper.

"He can tell us later, when he gives us an update about what's exactly happening now," yet another vamp said, extending the lazy discussion that had gone from surreal to rude, now that Dawn's head had stopped buzzing.

"Update?" Was that Jesse Shane's altered voice? "We kick a.s.s on anyone who enters with a bag of weapons; that's what the Master would want. That's my update."

They all laughed again, like they were at a c.o.c.ktail party listening to the action hero talk big. It gave Dawn the opportunity to squirm her hand way down into her bag.

But when one of the Elites spanked her with a tentacle, Dawn froze, mouth opening in a stifled cry.

Don't you let them see your shame. Don't, Dawn.

"Bad girl," the random vampire said. Actually, it sounded like Rea Carvahal. "I'll get you again if you don't tell us if Limpet came in with you." "The Master would let us know if he knew," yet another vamp said, leading to even more comments.

"Maybe the Guards have already taken care of the rest of them?"

"Or maybe the Groupies did."

"It'd be nice to have that update. . . ."

Another smack on the b.u.t.t made Dawn flinch. The burn in her throat made her choke back threatening tears.

Her head began to tighten.

"Tell us, you little b.i.t.c.h!" Another spank from what had to be Rea. Then another.

Outside the emporium, there was a shriek, this one closer. Dawn didn't know if it was in her own head or for real.

Another spank. With every one, her poise took a hit. But her helpless outrage flared.

Something barged into the other end of the emporium, making most of the Elites gasp and stir, but Dawn could only feel a tentacle sneaking beneath her body to undo her jeans for a bare-a.s.sed whack.

A furious sob came from Dawn, and her mind exploded.

Vision blurred, she levered to her hands and knees, directing her fury at Rea. Meanwhile, the rest of them were whirling around the room, frenzied by whatever had come into the emporium.

At Dawn's mind punch, Rea's mist and tentacles had spun away like an unraveling ball of silk threads. The vampiric ma.s.s crashed into a pillar, then banged to the ground.

Quickly, Dawn groped over the floor, toward her dropped revolver, aiming at Rea and plugging it in the heart.

As she squeezed off a shot at another vamp that was fleeing toward the door with the rest of the herd, the room went to an even higher level of chaos. Something had clearly won their attention away from Dawn.

Her silver bullet pierced her target's heart and, just then, Dawn realized which Elite she'd gotten. Charity Flynn screamed and clutched her chest. Then, like a career gone into free fall, her celestial beauty sucked into where the bullet had struck, a star collapsed into nothing.

Wobbling to her feet, Dawn began to stumble toward a pillar for cover. But one Elite wasn't letting her go anywhere.

Jesse Shane.

She aimed at him. Bam-her bullet caught the silver fringe of his Danger Form, and he jerked back but didn't implode.

d.a.m.n-silver anywhere but in the heart poisoned but didn't immediately kill.

Shaking his head, Jesse got into a compacted attack position, then charged her. Dawn rolled away, shooting again, missing altogether this time.

He whizzed above her, intimidating her by hovering, then zoomed down to attack, his mouth opening in a silvery, fanged grimace.

"Costin," she said under her breath as she raised her revolver. Probably her last word, and she'd spoken his name.

It all came rushing back-an avalanche of emotion that destroyed all the containers where she'd been keeping her real feelings: a flash flood of heat, remorse, bewildered anger.Cra.s.ssshhh!

At her mind punch, Jesse spun backward, as if hitting a shield.

Steeped in everything she'd always tried to white out of her, Dawn now opened herself to the anguish Eva had initiated, the self- hatred Dawn herself had nursed all these years. She used every burst of it to pound back at the ever-weakening Jesse, wielding the fear of not knowing how long she could keep this up to feed her even more.

But each mental smash was losing power. . . .

Costin, bait, using each other-?

Now her repulsing grew in strength and, soon, Jesse dropped to the floor, swishing back to his more human form while he held his waist where her bullet had nicked him, poisoning him.

She sprang up and came to stand over his body, leveling her revolver.

"Mercy?" He was still playful, grinning at her as if his charm could win the day. But he was nervous, too.

Aw.

Dawn planted a bullet in his heart and his smile disappeared in an inward rush of full-body oblivion.

Then she ran-no, tripped-to the other end of the emporium, where shrill cries strained her ears. What she found surprised the tar out of her: the smell of jasmine-Friends!-plus the sight of all but two Elites frozen statue still in their more human forms: she recognized Tamsin Greene among them before she realized that two remaining vampires had flown up to the golden dome, plastering their Danger Forms against it like filmy webs.

What the h.e.l.l? They were afraid of the Friends, even though the vampires knew how to captivate them . . . ?

Then the truth hit. Duh-these Elites didn't want to be statued like the others. But how were they getting statued?