leaking out black, oozing blood, massive bullet holes through their skulls, or their chests. That’ll slow them down a day or two.
I get to the bottom of the stairs and see two guys on Jean, hitting her with batons. She’s not a great fighter, but what she doesn’t have in skill she makes up for in not going down. It’s not entirely clear she can feel the blows.
I hit the closest from behind. Pull his neck back. Slice the razor deep through his throat. I knee him in the back as his eyes bug out. He stumbles, falls into his buddy. Jean grabs the opportunity, gives a vicious uppercut with an open hand, fingers splayed. Her nails are like spikes, punching up though his jaw. She pulls back, wiry muscles straining. Crack, twist, pull. The man’s head comes off his shoulders and she flings it aside like it’s a rotten fruit.
Every time I see a vampire fight I wonder how they haven’t managed to take over, and then I remember that they have notoriously bad judgment. Sure, they’re frighteningly strong, but they’ve got the addict’s mindset, a mess of neuroses. Driven by their addictions, they’re barely functional. Thank god for small favors.
I turn to see Gabriela going mano-a-mano with some mobster with a Bowie knife. Another coming up behind her. There are too many people fighting between me and her and a straight razor’s not exactly a throwing weapon.
There are a lot of corpses, and plenty of them are leaving ghosts, so I’ll have to make this fast. I break into a run toward her, three guys stepping into my path. Before I get to them I flip over to the dead side and pass right through them.
The new ghosts, some of the Russian’s men, some of Gabriela’s normals, see me immediately. Confused, frightened, too new to know what the hell is going on, they act on whatever passes for instinct in the newly dead and come right at me.
I sidestep one as it takes a swipe at me, get up between Gabriela and the guy coming up behind her and pop back into the real world. I sweep the razor in an S pattern, catch him across the eyes, widen his mouth and finish him off with a deep cut through his throat.
The distraction of my appearance surprises the guy with the Bowie knife and he misses Gabriela’s machete swing. Whatever she’s magicked that blade with is pretty fucking impressive. It cleaves clean through his arm. She brings the machete back around and chops through his leg, dropping him to the floor. She could finish him off, but instead she nods at me as she moves onto the next guy, leaving him to bleed out.
I immediately get into it with another of the Russian’s men, stepping in close to keep his baton from caving my skull in. I take a hit on my already bruised side, the magic in my tattoos flaring to spread out the impact. I catch him on the inside of the wrist with the razor as he brings his baton in for a second hit, but he doesn’t drop it.
That’s okay. I didn’t really expect him to. The important thing is that he’s bleeding. I shove my way closer, grab him in a bear hug that takes him to the floor and pop both of us over to the dead side.
The ghosts are on us in a flash. The blood from the razor cut is like chumming the water for sharks. One of them swipes at me, catching me along the back with a hand that bites like ice on fire before I can roll off the mobster and pop back into the real world. I leave him behind for his dead friends to snack on.
I’ve been hit by ghosts before. It’s not fun and my body’s not reacting to it well. My back seizes up momentarily, the wound a cauterized furrow in my flesh. It takes me too long to get up.
“Stay down,” Gabriela yells. I look up to see a guy with a hatchet coming at me. She’s a good twenty feet away but she throws the machete overhand, anyway. It sails end over end through the air and bites a good three inches into his skull. She gestures for it, and the blade pops out of his head like a cork to fly back into her hand. She has the coolest
I get to the bottom of the stairs and see two guys on Jean, hitting her with batons. She’s not a great fighter, but what she doesn’t have in skill she makes up for in not going down. It’s not entirely clear she can feel the blows.
I hit the closest from behind. Pull his neck back. Slice the razor deep through his throat. I knee him in the back as his eyes bug out. He stumbles, falls into his buddy. Jean grabs the opportunity, gives a vicious uppercut with an open hand, fingers splayed. Her nails are like spikes, punching up though his jaw. She pulls back, wiry muscles straining. Crack, twist, pull. The man’s head comes off his shoulders and she flings it aside like it’s a rotten fruit.
Every time I see a vampire fight I wonder how they haven’t managed to take over, and then I remember that they have notoriously bad judgment. Sure, they’re frighteningly strong, but they’ve got the addict’s mindset, a mess of neuroses. Driven by their addictions, they’re barely functional. Thank god for small favors.
I turn to see Gabriela going mano-a-mano with some mobster with a Bowie knife. Another coming up behind her. There are too many people fighting between me and her and a straight razor’s not exactly a throwing weapon.
There are a lot of corpses, and plenty of them are leaving ghosts, so I’ll have to make this fast. I break into a run toward her, three guys stepping into my path. Before I get to them I flip over to the dead side and pass right through them.
The new ghosts, some of the Russian’s men, some of Gabriela’s normals, see me immediately. Confused, frightened, too new to know what the hell is going on, they act on whatever passes for instinct in the newly dead and come right at me.
I sidestep one as it takes a swipe at me, get up between Gabriela and the guy coming up behind her and pop back into the real world. I sweep the razor in an S pattern, catch him across the eyes, widen his mouth and finish him off with a deep cut through his throat.
The distraction of my appearance surprises the guy with the Bowie knife and he misses Gabriela’s machete swing. Whatever she’s magicked that blade with is pretty fucking impressive. It cleaves clean through his arm. She brings the machete back around and chops through his leg, dropping him to the floor. She could finish him off, but instead she nods at me as she moves onto the next guy, leaving him to bleed out.
I immediately get into it with another of the Russian’s men, stepping in close to keep his baton from caving my skull in. I take a hit on my already bruised side, the magic in my tattoos flaring to spread out the impact. I catch him on the inside of the wrist with the razor as he brings his baton in for a second hit, but he doesn’t drop it.
That’s okay. I didn’t really expect him to. The important thing is that he’s bleeding. I shove my way closer, grab him in a bear hug that takes him to the floor and pop both of us over to the dead side.
The ghosts are on us in a flash. The blood from the razor cut is like chumming the water for sharks. One of them swipes at me, catching me along the back with a hand that bites like ice on fire before I can roll off the mobster and pop back into the real world. I leave him behind for his dead friends to snack on.
I’ve been hit by ghosts before. It’s not fun and my body’s not reacting to it well. My back seizes up momentarily, the wound a cauterized furrow in my flesh. It takes me too long to get up.
“Stay down,” Gabriela yells. I look up to see a guy with a hatchet coming at me. She’s a good twenty feet away but she throws the machete overhand, anyway. It sails end over end through the air and bites a good three inches into his skull. She gestures for it, and the blade pops out of his head like a cork to fly back into her hand. She has the coolest
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