Page 104 of Close Quarter
He didn't have to say that twice. They tore down the hall toward the other set of elevators, Anaxandros's laughter pounding off the walls behind them.
Rhys hit the door marked STAIRS and pushed it open.
"Down," Silas called. They both half ran, half jumped down to the next landing.
And then Silas screamed.
A knife jutted from his shoulder, and he bounced off the stairwell wall into Rhys, nearly sending him tumbling down to the next level.
"Get it out!" Raw words. Silas flailed wildly but couldn't remove the blade without dropping his sword that he clutched so hard his fingers had turned white. Rhys wrapped his hand around the hilt of the knife, and it seared into his flesh. He shouted as white agony traced up his arm, but he ripped the knife out of Silas anyway. The flesh of his hand didn't blacken--it turned gray, then white, rimmed with red. His whole hand hurt as if he'd stuck it in glowing coals.
Silas shoved him. "Go!"
Too late.
Anaxandros landed on the platform and kicked Silas down the next flight. The cry and the sick thud that followed turned Rhys's vision red.
He dodged. The vampire's black sword screamed as it cut nothing but air.
Rhys gripped his sword like a bat and swung.
The tip scraped along Anaxandros's chest. Smoke curled into the air. The vampire hissed and stepped back.
That gave Rhys enough time to flee. He jumped down the stairs to where Silas stood near the door to deck nine.
Silas stood.Thank God.But his left arm was bent in a way no bones should ever be. Silas kicked open the door. "Aft. There's a deck aft."
Sunlight. They sailed east. There'd be sun behind them. As they ran, Rhys didn't dare look back. From the thudding footsteps, the vampire had to be close. At the same time, they pushed through the double doors to the small observation deck and shot out into the sunlight. Silas crumpled against the rail. Rhys turned to face the vampire.
Aside from a few deck chairs, they were alone. But the murmur of passengers on deck eight filtered up from below.
The vampire was still fucking tall, still had hair the color of the sunlight.
Anaxandros stood just inside the shaded part of the deck, his lips pulled back to expose his jagged teeth. It might have been a smile. "This," he said, sweeping the tip of his black sword through the air, "is your doing. Quintus would never dare hunt during the day, never approach a lair."
"Yup," Rhys said. "My idea." Swollen flesh peeked out from the cut Rhys had made in the vampire's shirt. It pulsed and wiggled like a nest of maggots. "By the way, how's your head?"
Anaxandros's expression darkened. "I'm going to enjoy cracking open your bones and drinking your marrow, Quarter."
"And I'm going to enjoy watching you turn into a pile of ash, you fuck." Rhys stepped back until he stood next to Silas. "Can you stand?"
"Yes." And he did. Once on his feet, he faced the vampire. "It's just you now, Anaxandros."
The vampire shrugged, a movement that was eerily close to Silas's own. Rhys felt ice flow down his spine.
"It was only ever you and I, Quintus."
"Perhaps. But no longer."
Those words drew Rhys's attention away from the vampire for a moment. Silas moved his left arm and winced, and the angle of Silas's wrist made Rhys's innards twist. Silas couldn't fight the vampire, not like this. The moment he stepped into the shade, Anaxandros would be on him. Rhys turned back.
"No, you went and found yourself a Quarter."
He twirled the sword. "How's the shoulder?"
Silas said nothing.
Rhys looked at his own hand. The wound had spread.Shit.He looked up. "I found him."
