Page 74 of The Shadow of the Count
I will. I swear.He lied, and he knew it, but he needed the count off balance.Hopefully, the man would hear and believe only what Donnie wanted him to.
Peter crept up behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Yes. This was the man he would protect with his life. So he took a deep breath and pushed the door open, hoping the count still slumbered and was just communicating in his sleep.
As soon as those black eyes pierced his soul, he realized he was wrong.
The count was fully awake, aware, and out of his coffin. Waiting for them.
“Beloved! You betray me!” The booming voice was freakishly loud.
“I’m not yours!” he screamed, holding the cross up so that that creature couldn’t touch him. “I never have been.”
Gasoline splashed on the count’s coffin, the flames immediately bursting up behind him. Those crazy eyes widened, and the count looked behind him in disbelief. Peter had done that.
Peter stood there, eyes blazing with defiance.
The count roared, hands clenching into fists, and the rafters seemed to shake.
“Get back from us, you foul creature!” Clark shouted. “Back to your burning coffin!” He moved forward, cross held high.
Donald did the same thing, stepping forward, and the count turned toward Peter, reaching for him.
“No!” Donnie leaped ahead, putting himself between the beast and his lover, who only had the use of the one arm and wouldn’t be able to defend himself. “You leave him alone!” He held up the stake, ready to strike.
“Come with me, and I will spare him.”
“No.” That was Peter, voice raw but real. “No. He will not.”
Clark strode forward, the count flinching back from him, his face a grimace of hate. Yes. Clark was their true believer.
“I will tear your heart out.” The count didn’t glance at Clark, though, because his eyes were on Peter.
“You can try.” Peter was at his side then, right there, pushing them forward as the count hissed.
Then the count rushed them, sending Yvgeny flying. Clark managed to duck, and holy water splashed the count’s face, burning him.
Then Peter’s hand wrapped around his, the stake sinking into the count’s chest, all of their weight and strength behind it.
The shriek that sounded made his ears feel like they were bleeding, and he staggered back when a blast of dust hit him, almost making him choke. The count seemed to swell, a cloud of black stench surrounding him.
“Get back!” Clark yanked them away, and the count disappeared into ashes, which fell in a blanket of black to the floor.
“Salt it, Yvgeny!” Clark cried, sprinkling the ashes with holy water.
Yvgeny began to pour salt from a bag, the scream going more and more quiet as they worked.
Finally, Richard and Clark flung the salted ashes into the fire. “We have to get out of here!” Clark shouted. “Every old timber in the place will go up.”
“What about Jeb?” Donnie asked. He would not sacrifice one of them to this evil. He would not.
“I’ll get him,” Peter croaked, then disappeared into the smoke.
“No!”
“Come on!” Clark yanked at him, and Yvgeny propped up Richard as they all staggered for the main stairs that would take them up and out.
Smoke billowed around them, darkening the plaster, and destroying untold riches and knowledge.
Donnie felt a pang for that library Peter had been so eager to catalog. They could have asked M. Grant to move it into his archive. But the thought was fleeting.
