Page 19 of Helsing: Demon Slayer (The Dragon’s Paladins #1)

M iles knew as soon as Beta Nagy walked into the ops center behind him.

An invisible shock wave propagated outward from her into the space, which was large enough for twenty personnel.

Turning in his chair, he watched her walk to Olivia in the far corner of the room.

Where Olivia exuded the confident command of a born leader, the black-haired Czech radiated a tightly leashed menace that always put Miles on edge.

It didn’t help that he’d seen her transform into a mythical dragon and rip another dragon to shreds.

But he’d also witnessed as she vowed love for and fidelity to András, the giant Hungarian Elioud , on the battlefield beforehand.

Beta was a threat, but she was their threat.

The two women conversed for a moment before Olivia looked over at Miles. Taking his cue, he got up from his desk and came over.

“Beta just spoke with Helsing.” Olivia paused, glancing at Beta as if seeking confirmation. The Czech said nothing. Olivia looked back at Miles. “Via harmonics.”

She waited while that sank in.

Crossing his arms, Miles studied both women. “I take it you don’t mean he used his comms.”

Olivia shook her head. “They weren’t activated. He spoke to her telepathically.”

“What does that mean?” asked Miles, looking back and forth between the two Elioud . “Ordinary people can’t use harmonics unaided.”

“Well, he did,” said Beta. She narrowed her eyes. The air vibrated around him, and he caught a hint of heat and ash. “Do you doubt me?”

Olivia ignored her. “We don’t know what it means. I sent a message to Miró to see if he can explain it. Regardless, before Ryan’s transmission ended, Beta read significant discord in his harmonics.”

“A daemon manifested nearby,” said Beta. “Within three meters.” She didn’t have to say inside the vehicle.

“One who bypassed the defenses on the transport vehicle. And Ryan’s system confirms Beta’s assessment. Now we can’t raise anyone in the transport vehicle on comms.”

Miles looked between the two grim Elioud . “The zoti is still thirty minutes from Trnbusi.” Trnbusi, a small Croat village on the team’s route, had been designated as the extraction point.

“Do we have any assets in the area? Any at all?” asked Olivia, a hint of desperation in her voice. “How about the truck? Is it really up on a lift right now?”

She was asking about the Eagle, a prototype truck that had a detachable, two-person harmonically powered helicopter that launched from its bed.

It was being built and tested in Kastrioti facilities in Shkoder, a process overseen by Miró’s second-in-command, Willem DeVries.

In theory, the cutting-edge aerial vehicle could transport its occupants several hundred kilometers within seconds.

In theory.

So far, the test pilots had only flown the little bird fifty kilometers outside of Shkoder in sixty seconds.

Still faster than Mihàil’s AW139—and that was one of the fastest private helicopters on the market—but Helsing’s vehicle was more than 350 kilometers north of the Eagle.

The fact that Olivia asked about it underscored the direness of the situation.

Miles considered his answer. “It’s on the schedule for test flights today,” he said, carefully choosing his words as he considered how to answer her real question. “They planned to extend the range another hundred kilometers.”

“So, it’s ready to go then?” asked Olivia, her gaze searching his face. He knew her well enough by now to read tentative hope in it.

He nodded.

“Then send it to Helsing ASAP,” she said. “Loaded for bear.”

“Copy that,” he said, pivoting to return to the ops director’s desk. It sounded like it was time to say a Hail Mary and hope the Eaglet was ready to fly far from the nest.

Thirty seconds after Germaine slid the square of white chocolate onto her tongue, she started gagging and retching.

A foul-smelling foam bubbled from her open mouth.

She began thrashing, ripping the IV from her arm in the process and loosening the stretch bandage wrapping her thighs together.

In an instant, Dianne understood that if not stopped, Germaine would make her injury worse, maybe far worse.

Then Germaine began hissing and growling like a cornered wild animal.

Dianne unclipped her seatbelt and swiveled in her seat even as Ryan yelled something.

The Range Rover leapt forward, throwing her into the rear with Germaine, whose hands had become claws.

One managed to scratch Dianne’s cheek. It was all she could do to duck her head under both arms as the injured woman struck her with unimaginable force.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that the gossamer jacket she wore radiated an ethereal blue light.

Ryan somehow maneuvered his large body into the rear, shielding Dianne from her crazed friend. She couldn’t see well through her hair and watering eyes, but she had an impression that he pinned Germaine under him before struggling to capture the other woman’s hands.

The speeding SUV abruptly swerved across the other lane before Barts yanked it back, throwing Dianne against the rear window. She shoved her hair from her eyes in time to see Germaine’s head strike Ryan’s forearm like a cobra. The other woman bit down, hard.

Before crying out and pulling away as she choked on foam and virulent curses.

Ryan, whose arm bled from the bite, grunted before grabbing both of Germaine’s hands.

She moaned, whipping her face from side to side, but she was otherwise trapped under his weight and could no longer move anything else.

He gripped her slender wrists in one massive hand while his other scrabbled for the med kit next to Dianne.

“What do you need?” she asked, her heart beating so tight and fast it felt like a vibrating golf ball lodged at the base of her throat.

“There’s a syringe with droperidol in the kit. You’ll have to inject her.”

Dianne nodded and turned to lean over the large black utility box that their rescuers had brought filled with medicines, bandages, and emergency medical devices.

It took her several tries with shaking hands to open the kit’s latches, her heartbeat now a rapid pinprick against her shallow panting.

She scanned the contents of the kit, landing on the compartment with prefilled syringes, but as she opened its separate lid, the SUV lurched sideways again, knocking the heavy box on its side and sending its contents across the rear of the vehicle.

A car passed in the other lane, its horn blaring.

“Shit!” she yelled as black started to edge her vision. Oh, Lord, please let me find it.

“You got this, Markham!” Ryan’s no-nonsense tone snapped Dianne back from the precipice.

Dianne’s eyesight clarified and landed on a syringe marked droperidol . She snatched it up and removed the protective cap from the rather evil-looking tip.

Twisting, she said, “Where?”

“Her thigh.” He shifted backwards to reveal Germaine’s legs, his free hand now pressing into one of the other woman’s shoulders. “Here. Before she does any more harm.”

As Dianne leaned over, her friend began speaking in a deep, guttural voice that crawled over Dianne’s flesh. She ignored it and gripped Germaine’s uninjured thigh.

“That’s nice,” hissed Germaine. “You like touching me too, don’t you? Yes, you want to stroke me. Yessss .”

In shock, Dianne realized that her fingers had started to caress Germaine’s smooth skin.

“Markham,” said Ryan, again focusing her. “Do it now! It needs time to take effect.”

Dianne jerked and plunged the needle into Germaine, who screamed hoarsely before laughing. The sound made the hair stand up on Dianne’s whole body.

She looked up at Germaine’s face and froze. The other woman’s blue eyes had dilated and turned an eerie frosty color. Her lips were an ugly shade of purple, and her fine hair stood away from her head in a static halo.

This new Germaine clamped a hand on Dianne’s wrists and lifted her face within inches of Dianne’s despite Ryan’s effort at restraint. “Wanna party?”

“Dianne!” yelled Ryan, pushing at the levitating woman at the same instant the driver jerked the wheel, sending the Range Rover careening into the vehicle next to them.

Germaine laughed again and continued laughing while their driver struggled to keep the SUV under control and from rearending a truck. Pressure built inside the vehicle’s cabin, making Dianne’s head pound and her ears ring.

Ryan pulled her from Germaine, who clung to Dianne with a viselike grip totally unnatural to her physical size.

When he tugged one of Dianne’s hands free, Germaine followed and struck at his side with stiffened fingers.

Ryan grunted but only shoved the deranged woman away from them and pulled Dianne into his other side.

Dianne saw blood glistening on Germaine’s fingers, from the base to manicured fingertips.

The driver slammed on the brakes, sending all three of them tumbling around the back. The med kit hit Dianne in the head, while Germaine continued to grasp her wrist so hard, she thought her bone would bruise.

“That tunic won’t save you, Little One,” said Germaine through a sly grin.

The SUV lurched forward.

Ryan hit Germaine in the face. Releasing Dianne, she rolled to the side and vomited. Their vehicle shuddered to a halt once again.

“Helsing!” yelled Markos. “We’ve got company.”

Dianne strained to look outside the Range Rover’s cracked front window. What she saw did little to relieve her terror.