My apologies for not getting this out in the usual weekly period, but, as I'm sure you've guessed by now, I'm terribly busy with law homework. I really should just stop apologizing and let it be assumed that all delays are because of school lol.
If you're just coming to A Darkness Below, you can check out the previous chapters here:
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18
The notion that he could take on two unimpeded bloodsuckers by himself was laughable, but he had to give McKenna and his group enough time to arm and equip themselves.
It wouldn’t be much, but if they could get a hold of some firearms, they’d at least stand a fighting chance. Just like in France, if one could put enough rounds down range, it didn’t matter how many people the enemy sent in a charge.
He went for the door that lead to the stairwell down into the basement. He doubted he’d get any sympathy from Jasen, but, at the very least, he could lock himself in with him. Jasen, at least, was still locked up and he could bide his time waiting for McKenna to clear the castle. If nothing else, he’d have some conversation; based on what they’d discussed before, Jasen had very little appreciation for his own kind and viewed them as little more than petulant, savage children by comparison. Ignoring the pain that was threatening to drop him to the ground, he made it to the stairwell door. As he went to open it, the beasts to his rear finally caught up with him.
The one that caught him first tackled him through the door, sending the two of them tumbling down the stairs. Every impact with the stone steps sent fresh, hot pain shooting through his mind; at least one of his ribs was cracked, if not broken, and his right leg was practically useless. Still, he held on, trying to jostle for position so he’d end up on top of the bloodsucker. Fortune favored him in this instance, and when they came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, he landed on top. It was a simple matter of putting a bullet through the leech’s skull, which he was only too happy to do. The slide locked back after he buried the round in its skull, signalling to Sullivan that he’d have nothing left to fight off the creature’s companion, who was now barreling down the stairs.
Straining with the effort, he rolled over, using its body as shield just in time to greet the other beast that now landed down on top of him. It impacted with enough force to break a few more ribs, sending the air out of his lungs and robbing him of the breath he desperately needed to fight back. Wheezing, he turned the pistol in his hand and swung it around, trying to jam the sharp tracks on the inside of the slide into the beast’s throat. They might have been immortal, but they were as susceptible to exsanguination as human beings were. If he could bleed this one, he’d be able to at least survive long enough to make it to Jasen’s cell and lock himself in.
Unfortunately, his strikes proved futile. He did manage to take a good chunk out of the creature’s neck, but his weapon didn’t find its mark. All it did was enrage it, and the bloodsucker threw off the body of his companion, slamming it into the stone wall beside them. Now it bared down on Sullivan, fangs gleaming in the low light of the dungeon. Dragging himself back, he stared up with grim determination; if he was going to die tonight, he wasn’t going to die screaming.
“Defiance,” the leech snarled, stalking toward him at a leisurely pace.
This particular one was short and rather skinny to have been wielding the kind of strength it commanded. Likely it had been a street urchin once upon a time, before it was twisted into the horrible form that now stood before Sullivan. “That’s good. Fight to the end, you sack of shit. Fight until you die!”
When it lunged for him, Sullivan rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding what would have certainly been a fatal strike. He brought his arm around, swinging the back end of his pistol down into the back of the beast’s skull. This time, his aim was true, and the slide buried itself into the back of its head, splitting the bone and digging into the soft, dead tissue beneath. It let out a shriek and spasmed, spinning around and swiping as it tried to grab at the invading object interfering with its muscular control. Unfortunately, in that fit of rage and panic, its strike picked Sullivan off the floor and threw him down the hall. A bright flash blinded his vision, and he was aware of searing heat in the back of his head.
The creature continued to twitch and spasm, unsuccessfully trying to marshal its limbs to remove the impediment.
Sullivan watched from the end of the hallway, dazed and shuddering from a hacking cough. His lips felt wet, and as he looked down he noticed a spray of blood across the front of his night shirt. Likely one of his ribs had punctured his lung. Worse still, he couldn’t feel his legs. Not having to deal with the pain was a blessing, but it indicated to him, even in this state, that he’d never use his legs again - if he survived at all.
“Sullivan? Still with me,” came a voice from his right, and he rolled his head a little, straining to make out anything. His vision was blurry, and he was fairly certain that he’d split his skull open against the rock.
“Jasen,” came his reply, before he was racked with another cough. He was certain now. One of his lungs had certainly been punctured, and, though it was tolerable at the moment, it was beginning to impede on his ability to breath.
“What the hell is going on,” Jasen asked, the sound of chains rattling indicating that he was moving from his seated position.
“Under attack. A whole host of them,” Sullivan responded, blinking his eyes to try focusing his vision.
“They’re upstairs as well? How many of them have breached the walls?” Sullivan was amused by this line of questioning; Jasen never cared what happened to the Order before, but perhaps now, given the circumstances, he’d likely bonded with him enough for the beast to care.
“Good twenty, maybe thirty,” he offered, inhaling sharply and gritting his teeth. “McKenna made it to the armory. We’ll see if he survives.”
“...he can’t get to it, can he?” The question was voiced with no small measure of concern.
“Doesn’t matter at this point,” Sullivan said, spitting blood to the side. “If he even survives, he won’t make it far. It’s...it’s a different world out there, Jasen.”
“That blade is cursed, and it will turn him into a nightmare,” the vampire retorted. Sullivan merely shrugged, exhaling slowly. He likely wasn’t going to make it out of the dungeon now, and it was just as likely that Maggie had been killed. It was apparent to him now that those field missions that had been organized for this evening had been ruses to get their most experienced hunters out in the field and away from the castle.