Off The Grid (Kindred Series-3)

Off The Grid - 13

siege

 

            Remy sees bodies on the floor, and blood, people running.  The scene before her plays out quickly, slivers of images as she gets in a defensive position, watching for attacks.  The blood is everywhere. A splattering of it arches across her face as someone who is wounded careens by her.

“LENA!” she calls out without thought.  She spots a Strigoi just a few feet from her, his teeth are sunk in a young woman’s neck and she convulses as he feeds.  She searches the room again, her eyes light on the sickle and she dashes for it.  Shoving aside people as she does, spinning on her feet as the Strigoi reaches for her, his teeth bared.  She snarls at him.  His eyes widen.  She takes the opportunity granted to her and tears the sickle from the wall, in one hard movement she lobs his head off.  A gush of blood spurts as the body solidifies and falls to the side in a shattering thud.

            She catches sight of Lena across the room.  In her hand is a broadsword, her eyes ablaze with passion and fight.  Remy freezes.  In awe for just a moment as Lena runs from the oncoming Strigoi, takes two leaping steps against the wall, and flips over the Strigoi’s head.  Before her feet, now bare of the heels she’d been wearing, hit the ground she slices the Strigoi’s head off in mid-flip.  It collapses to the ground, the head rolling off to the side. 

            Lena looks around the room, brandishing the sword.  Their eyes meet and Remy smiles, Lena shrugs and gives Remy a smile so small and shy that Remy’s breathe ceases to come.  A body collides with hers and it’s Dom.  She hands him the sickle.  “What the hell is going on, Rem?”

            “No clue, kill them all,” says Remy.  She scans the room.  “Where is Dax?”

            “Getting everyone out to the water.  Papa and Mama are with him, I made sure of it,” says Dom.  His jacket is off and he has stripped off the white shirt, leaving him in a thin cotton tee shirt, which is covered in blood and gore already.  “I got two already.”

            “Lena!” calls out Remy.  As Remy passes a closed door, a hidden Strigoi explodes through it.  Remy rears her hand back, catches it in the throat, and tears half of it out, tendons and muscles dangle from the now open wound.  The monster roars gutturally.  Remy ducks and Dom finishes it off with the sickle.

            “Jesus, Remy, how did you do that?”

            “Practice,” says Remy, her voice deep and dark now.  She sniffs the air.  “There are two more, at least.  Both male.  Lena, kitchen with me.  Dom, go upstairs and get my groom to be, bring him a sword too.  Let’s go all medieval on these bastards, shall we?”

            Dom nods.  He dashes out of the room, most of the party goers are gone now, Remy hopes they are safe.  She finally picks her way through the arms and legs of the fallen to reach Lena’s side.  “With me?” asks Remy.

            “Always,” says Lena.

            Remy takes the lead.  No weapon, her senses leading her to the Strigoi that must have gone into the kitchen to go after the wait staff.  Lena places a hand on Remy’s shoulder, sticking close.  The trembling in her fingers alerts Remy that Lena may be acting like a warrior, but that she is still a girl.  Remy reaches back, covering her hand with her own.  “Lena, just follow me, don’t engage unless I falter.”

            “You never falter.”

            “And there you have it,” whispers Remy.  They advance slowly, and as Remy’s hand reaches out to the double swinging door of the kitchen she hears a slurping sound.  Then the sound of more tearing flesh and whimpers and pleading.  Remy closes her eyes.  A flash of something behind her darkened lids makes her gasp.