Blood Rock by Francis Anthony

Author:Francis, Anthony [Francis, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books
Published: 2011-08-09T04:00:00+00:00

Calaphase disappeared, then burst forth from the opening in an incredible burst of speed, sailing through the opening, the flames. But the flames grabbed at him, tripped him up so he tumbled and fell short, fell into the parking lot, fell into the tag—

—

And fell a thousand feet to his death below.

Trick of Perspective

Calaphase stared up at me, lifeless, body broken on the tagged parking lot in a vast splash of blood. I couldn’t believe it. He’d just jumped from the broken window of the little hot-dog stand, tripped as magic flame caught his feet, and pitched face down in the pavement—but instead of hitting the pavement, he’d seemed to fall forever into the vast chasm depicted by the tag, disappearing into the painted distance in some horrible trick of perspective.

But it wasn’t just a trick, it was magic, and seconds later Calaphase had splatted into the pavement right in front of my feet with more force than if he’d fallen from an airplane. I stared down at him from the safety of my strip of grass, stared at the twisted body that had been so strong in my arms, at the broken fangs that had sipped my blood, into the lifeless eyes that an hour ago had stared back into mine as he told me he loved me.

His body twitched, and for a brief moment I felt a flicker of hope: maybe blunt trauma wouldn’t be enough to kill a vampire. But then the vast splash of blood gurgled obscenely and began sinking into the pavement, blotted up by the graffiti, draining into the cracks painted in the rock, turning the glowing lava blood red. There was the power of the graffiti—these monster marks were feeding off of vampire blood, literal blood rocks. How dare they. How dare they!

My nostrils flared, and I looked up.

Zipperface stood at the far end of the parking lot, his misshapen head canted beneath his huge cap, his tiny eyes glowing, holding his baseball bat down and out like a sword in challenge. My face flushed with rage as I read more and more clearly off that exaggerated body language one clear emotion: saucy, self-satisfied glee. Suddenly a jagged, cartoony grin spread across that inhuman face, and he swept his paint can across the air in a clear gesture: I tagged you.

“Like hell,” I said, stalking out across the grass towards him.

Zipperface raised his hands, and flames surged from the blockhouse, a wash of mana driving cracked lines out across the parking lot, extending the lava landscape that had killed Calaphase. No matter—I was still going to kill him. But I’d have to get past the lava to do it—and then I realized the magic was reaching my skin before the heat.

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