Vampire Down (Blood Skies, Book 7) by Steven Montano

Author:Steven Montano [Montano, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Darker Sunset Press
Published: 2014-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

“God dammit, Ronan. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His vision faded in, and Ronan found himself staring at the stars. The air was still and frozen, a shock to his skin. He was exhausted beyond measure, and even with the icy atmosphere Ronan felt himself barely clinging to consciousness. His mind was filled with haze and hurt, and voices echoed and faded like he’d fallen into a tunnel.

He was on a slow-moving truck, lying on the bed of a military grade transport which rumbled along the uneven hills, crushing stones as they drove near rows of dead trees. Untended fires off the sides of the road burned in the night, and Ronan spied slight warriors armed with razored bows patrolling the wastelands.

Lith.

Ronan slowly sat up. He tasted acid on the night current, smelled burning meat. The moon was full and bright.

There were others on the truck, armed men in dark armor seated in two rows of seats that ran the length of the walls around the bed. The vehicle shifted violently, but Ronan dragged himself up with aid of the chains on the rear door. If the half-dozen men didn’t want him to rise they made no motion to stop him. His clothes were soaked, and there was an uncomfortable tightness in his back. He felt drugged.

“That was a hell of a nice shop,” Abraham said. “I ought to take it out of your ass.”

The black marketer sat on the bench next to him, dressed in combat armor, his white eyes bright in the night. A thick bandage had been wrapped around his forearm where Ronan’s knife had sunk through.

Ronan rubbed his sore ribs and realized his weapons were gone.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked.

“Lots,” Abraham said. “Right now, we’re taking a ride.”

Ronan looked out across the broken hills and scattered dead forests.

“We’re heading towards Seraph,” he said.

“Close,” Abraham nodded. “Ath.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You’re not in any position...”

Ronan moved fast. The man seated behind him wore a Noveske N4 Diplomat slung over one shoulder; fatigued or no, Ronan had spent a lifetime training to kill others, and that meant making sure they couldn’t kill him first, so in a fluid motion he slid the rifle off and away from the other man, cracked his elbow against the soldier’s forehead and turned and aimed the gun at Abraham’s face before anyone else could move.

“I’m in perfect position,” Ronan growled. “Talk. Why did you try to kill me back in your shop, why didn’t you finish the job…and what the hell is going on here?”

“I can answer that,” a woman’s voice said. “But only if you put down the gun and stop acting like an infant.”

Ronan caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, a woman near the head of the truck. Her cloak was black and heavy, and she was surrounded by a tightly wound spirit which uncoiled and spread out in a dissonant grey and green fog. The specter solidified around her thin body as she stood and stepped forward, unaffected by the rocketing motion.

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