“That one’s mine,” Jin seethed.
Gradually, the guards in the hall across from them began to turn, their dart weapons facing the opposite way as the floor continued to rumble. That was the direction of their exit. In the halls to Jin’s left andright, the guards mumbled in confusion, torn between keeping their eyes on the three of them or aiding their brethren.
Arthie seized the distraction. She was already running with a glance at the chandelier. “Cover me.”
I aim to make that chandelier a main attraction.
Jin and Matteo followed. They pulled out the revolvers Arthie had given them and squeezed out a round of shots as the guards moved to fire. Darts zipped past them.
One caught in Jin’s shoe; one whizzed through his hair. Arthie dropped to her knees to avoid the guards’ line of fire and slid the rest of the way to the opposite hall, where she pulled out Calibore, swung a wide arc to intimidate the guards nearest her, cocked it, and fired straight at the ceiling. At the ornate chandelier.
“Arthie, it’s metal,” Jin shouted.
“And we’re on an island,” she replied.
The link crumbled at the impact, rusted just enough. The chain gave way, and the chandelier rattled to the floor where it crashed, glass exploding in every direction.
The destruction rang out, casting a deafening silence for one long, excruciating moment.
Matteo reached into the mess of it—the chandelier was almost as tall as he was—and ripped one of the arms free, giving himself a mangled semblance of a spear and running back amid a spray of darts.
In Arthie’s hand, Calibore became a spiked shield.
“Brilliant,” Matteo said.
Arthie picked up a fallen knife. “I would like to never hear that word again. Rush them. Our exit is at the other end of this hall, the vampires too.”
She charged forward, shoving her shield against the first line of guards. They stumbled, firing their weapons as they fell on the menbehind them. The shield was barely wide enough for her, let alone three people, and Jin hissed when one of the darts caught on his sleeve, dampening it with the strange green serum.
“They’ll surround us, Arthie,” Matteo warned as he glanced back. Sure enough, guards were making their way past the fallen chandelier.
The ground rumbled louder. Shouts echoed not far from them.
Jin arced his umbrella, knocking the nearest guard’s weapon from his hand. Jin caught it before it fell and shoved the end against the guard’s nose. He stumbled before Jin kicked him square in the chest, knocking him into the man behind him and dropping them both.
Another guard went flying past and Matteo dove straight after him into the crowd, ramming the butt of his revolver into heads to knock them out of his way.
Shouts began anew, screams echoing from—behind them.
“It’s him,” Matteo said, breathless.
The Ripper vampire was thundering to the fallen chandelier.
Something told Jin that was a fight they could not win.
Panic spread like wildfire to the front of the guards. Bloodworth’s tinny voice rose from the din, saying something Jin could not make out other than its terrified tone. No one wanted to fight the vampire, and possibly, terribly worse was the realization that it seemed no one was equipped to fight him either.
“Arthie,” Jin warned.
“I know,” she replied, and pushed through. One moment, her spiked shield was up, the next, Calibore became a flail. Jin ducked out of her swing with a huff.
“A little warning would be appreciated next time.”
She swung it again, and Jin realized what she was doing: The guards were backing away. Arthie was clearing a path. Jin pressed close at her heels, pulling Matteo behind him and swinging his umbrella,ramming it against skull and weapon alike, until he tripped, coming face-to-face with the barrel of one of the guns, the wretched captain’s face sneering behind it.
The rest of the world slowed and melted away. Jin acutely recalled this feeling before, when he was staring down the end of the Ram’s miniature revolver, suspended between life and death for an eternal, insubstantial moment.
He heard the captain’s finger fall to the trigger, heard the click of the metal as he pressed down on it, the compression of the springs coiling tight, the green dart readying to launch.
