Page 24 of Helsing: Demon Slayer
Ryan couldn’t worry about whether any of the possessed would overwhelm her. His sole focus had to be on Dianne.
Somehow Germaine broke free of the creatures and raced down the sidewalk in front of the station. Dianne followed in her wake, Ryan a few meters behind. They passed the next three buses withdaemoniacsof all ages chasing them. Most ended up turning on one another, snapping and growling like a pack of wild dogs, but a dozen with a little more innate intelligence still driving their actions kept pace with them, looking for any opening to swoop in.
It came at the last bus in the line. Germaine halted as a team of three large males cut off her escape on the other side of the bus. Dianne, caught unaware, ran into her friend. Ryan stopped five meters back from the women, his gaze scanning the area as the remaining males, theirdaemonhosts clearly restrained, took care of the wilder ones blocking their approach. They twisted necks in a trained, disciplined manner.
A medium-height male with fathomless brown eyes gestured to the others using quick, crisp movements. The rest of the men fanned out around him in a two-tier perimeter, blocking access to the street, their hard gazes fixed on Ryan.
Ryan recognized fellow soldiers.
His palms grew slick with sweat. His harmonic system had been seriously depleted after the numerous high-energy discharges. The unexpected transfer of power to Dianne’s protective tunic moments before would have left him only minimal juice for critical functions like autonomous vitals tracking or beacon pings.
Police sirens blared as multiple cars passed them on the nearby D410, heading south toward the pier with their cruise ship and the scene of the first attacks.
“Harlequin, can you send a little law enforcement help our way?” he asked.
“Copy, Demon Slayer.” She paused. “Don’t make me assign you a new call sign, Helsing.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, bracing as thedaemoniacin charge flicked two fingers, and two of his men moved forward as a coordinated unit.
A moment later, one of thedaemoniacson the other side of the bus grabbed Germaine, who shrieked as he pulled her toward him, struggling.
Ryan flicked his wrist, opening the custom carbon-steel knife that he’d secreted in a pants pocket. Miró had encased the folding knife inside a harmonic damper that kept the ship’s metal detectors from recognizing it. He’d rather have a combat rifle, but in close quarters, it would do.
And Ryan had mastered the art of knife fighting as a Ranger, then taken that skill to another level with tips from Beta Nagy.
One of the approaching pair nodded at the other, who abruptly rushed Ryan.
Followed half a second later by the other man.
Ryan held steady until the last second, swiveling to shove the attacker’s head into the bus next to him with his free hand before pivoting toward the second man with the knife.
He plunged the blade into this attacker’s thigh before the first attacker, shaking his head and blinking his eyes, rushed back at him. Ryan took multiple blows to his ribs and back as bothdaemoniacspummeled him despite his repeated vicious strikes with the knife.
Sweat sheeted into his eyes, and his fist gripping the combat knife grew slippery with blood.
Behind him, he heard Germaine fight with one of the three males, who seemed to be playing with her as a cat plays with mice.
He broke free of his attackers long enough to see that Dianne stood, motionless and alone, her eyes wide in her bloodless face as she watched her friend’s torment.
Please, St. Michael, let me get to Dianne, thought Ryan.
Almost as soon as he thought this, two squad cars screeched to a halt in the street beyond. Officers jumped out a moment later, shouting and pulling handguns. One officer, who’d remained on the driver’s side of his vehicle, aimed his weapon over its hood.
The men attacking Ryan paid no attention. They just kept coming, trading blows for wounds.
As he shoved one of the attackers from the embedded blade of his knife, Ryan caught sight of thedaemoniacleader glancing over his shoulder before nodding to his men, who peeled off in hunting teams of two.
One team for each of the three police officers facing them.
The officers began yelling, and then one after another began firing their guns as thedaemoniacsignored their commands to halt.
The next moment, Dianne screamed, a ragged sound that drew Ryan’s gaze like a lodestone.
To his shock, she rushed toward the tall male who’d grabbed Germaine and dragged her backwards with an arm across her throat. Ryan glimpsed the male’s head snapping back, followed by his aiming a cruel grin at Dianne, now struggling against the grip of another male.
Then thedaemoniacRyan had stabbed in the chest grappled him in a bear hug while the other began jabbing him in the lower back with sharp knuckle punches. Ryan’s knees began to sag under the relentless onslaught.
Until the air vibrated around him, supporting his weight.
