This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

Still the Remnants slithered over Vlad, coiling on and through him. His body arched in a way that was all too familiar, telling of his agony even if
he wouldn’t let himself scream. Flames broke out across his hands, but the Remnants didn’t move to avoid them, nor did the fire seem to do them
any damage when they slithered over them. Why would they? my mind supplied in rising fear. Remnants were made of energy and air. Two things
that had never been harmed by fire before.
“Go back to your graves right now,” I tried again, this time desperation edging my tone. Still, they didn’t even slow in their movements, or seem to
hear me at all. I’d pulled them from the other side, but just as I feared, I now had no control over them. My worst-case scenario was playing out right
in front of me as I saw Vlad twist in a futile effort to get away from the Remnants that just kept right on devouring him, growing stronger from his pain
and energy while he grew weaker.
Then an idea seized me as I watched the flames on his hands. They did nothing to harm the Remnants, but they would sure as hell hurt me.
“Vlad, hit me with a fireball,” I breathed. “Passing out last time was what severed my connection with the Remnants, I think.”
It was worth a shot. If I was no longer connected to them, maybe they’d automatically go back to where they came from. I had to try something
new. My commands were useless and Vlad couldn’t last much longer like this.
“No.” The single word was filled with pain, but no less emphatic. “You’ll learn . . . to control them . . . if it kills me.”
“It will kill you, dammit,” I snapped in growing panic.
“Less bitching . . . more learning,” Vlad grated. Then he closed his eyes, as if dismissing me. “I know, I’m delicious. Nummy . . . nummy,” he
muttered to the Remnants feasting on him. Fire continued to drip from his hands, but he didn’t send any of those flames my way. Terror and anger
rose in me at the sight of the Remnants moving even faster through his body. They were growing stronger, gaining the energy they’d need to kill
him, and he was letting them.
“You’re going to die if you don’t flame me out of commission! Think of your people!” I yelled, growing desperate as nothing I did, even pulling on
the Remnants with my hands, seemed to make them leave Vlad alone.
At that, his eyes snapped open, emerald green and sizzling with both agony and resolve. “I am . . . so learn,” he rasped.
I let out a scream of pure frustration. Nothing I said would convince Vlad to harm me. Not if he thought he was protecting his people by sacrificing
himself.
Fine. If Vlad wouldn’t deliver the blow that would take me out of commission, I’d do it myself.
I curled my fist and rammed it as hard as I could into the side of my head. Grass met my vision as I knocked myself over, but one glance at Vlad
revealed the Remnants still hadn’t budged from him. Son of a bitch. I needed something harder than my hands.
A wide headstone caught my eye, an angel carved into the surface. I sent a mental apology to whoever’s grave it covered even as I also cast a
fast prayer upward to please let this work.
Then I ran toward the tombstone as fast as I could, my body bent, leading with my head like it was a red flag and I was a bull.
Pain exploded in my mind. That wasn’t the only thing that shattered, judging from the shards of granite I saw when my eyes opened. I’d plowed
right through the grave marker to land in the grass beyond. I shook my head to clear it, feeling blood running in a few thin lines down from my crown,
and swung around to look for Vlad again.
A sharp cry of relief escaped me when I saw all the Remnants had picked their heads up from him. They were looking at me, their deadly assault
on him suspended. Vlad began to back away and they didn’t move to jump on him again, but kept staring at me in frozen expectation. For a
stunned moment, I wasn’t sure what had done the trick. It wasn’t passing out; they were all still here. Was destroying a tombstone with my head
somehow the magic word to them? But then, as I felt those wet trails edging further down my face, it hit me.
Blood. That was their remote control. The Remnants had only appeared after Vlad bloodied my lip, just like they’d only appeared after Marie
sliced her wrist with that little mini dagger in her ring. She must have cut herself with it again to draw them off when I wasn’t looking. That would have
been easy; I’d been staring in horror at Bones more than focusing on her. The fresh blood from my head was enough to get them to stop chewing
on Vlad, but it would soon heal like my lip had. I couldn’t let them turn on Vlad again. He couldn’t take much more.
I didn’t bother taking the time to pull out one of my knives, but slammed my hand onto the jagged, sharp remains of the headstone, inflicting
another deep laceration.
“All right, you deadly little ghostlings,” I muttered. “Mama says go back to bed!”
Chapter Twenty-nine
I shut the car door, leaning against it for a second, thinking that if life were fair, I could go upstairs and take the longest, hottest shower on record
to help chase away the chill that still permeated every cell of me. Instead, we were back at the town house just so I could quickly change clothes.
Couldn’t quite pull off my happy bar hopper disguise if I went out covered in my own blood.