Page 28 of Helsing: Demon Slayer (The Dragon’s Paladins #1)

Two more men materialized in front of their car, each with other tools that they swung with desperate power at the little German sedan.

Ryan retained his cool, shooting and steering straight at the men.

From nowhere, another man smashed the passenger window.

Dianne screamed. He clung to the car using the tire iron as a makeshift climbing hook and began battering the window with his other fist.

Ryan swerved at the intersection, scattering attackers in the wake of their passage, except for the shockingly stubborn man on the right.

“Move,” he commanded Dianne as he slowed to shift the Glock to his right hand and the steering wheel to his left.

She ducked an instant before he shot the man clinging to their car.

Dianne heard the awful grunt and saw a spray of blood as the bullet pierced their attacker.

He fell to the pavement like a sack of potatoes, leaving the tire iron behind.

She pulled the impromptu weapon into the car. It could come in handy later …

A moment later, she sucked in a deep breath as Ryan said, “Good instincts, Beauty Queen.”

She scowled at him. “Can you stop saying that? I was never a Beauty Queen. That was Olivia, your commander, by the way. She was All. The. Things. All-State soprano, classical pianist, candidate for the Olympic archery team … Homecoming Queen whom everyone loved.”

Ryan looked at her. He looked pale, tired, and sweaty. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. Nicknames and call signs are just a way of life in the military. Take it as a compliment. I meant it that way. You’re turning into a solid team member.”

Dianne’s heart clenched. She kept her gaze on Ryan’s face, afraid to look at his side. “I’m getting hungry and thirsty. I could really go for a bacon cheeseburger right now.”

“Cooked medium?” he asked, looking back out the windshield. “With steak-cut fries?”

She nodded. “And onions and pickles and hot sauce.”

“And a beer? Sold.” Though he played along, Dianne saw the white knuckles of his left hand where it gripped the wheel. “But we’ll have to make do with enhanced chocolate and water for now.”

Dianne didn’t wait for more confirmation but grabbed Ryan’s backpack and pulled out the stainless-steel water bottle and another of the chocolate bars, this time one designated the ‘Harmony Healing Bar.” That sounded perfect.

She read the ingredients on the line under the name: cloves, cinnamon, turmeric, and dried Montmorency cherries.

Here’s hoping it helps , she thought, handing Ryan the bar and grabbing the last one for her, this time a bar with ginger and dried apricot.

They ate their chocolate bars in silence and shared the water bottle.

After she’d finished, Dianne felt a little queasy.

It was no surprise. She’d hardly had anything to eat since dinner last night, and the rich cacao of the gourmet candy after all of the adrenaline and fear of the morning didn’t sit as well as the white chocolate that she’d sampled before sharing a piece with Germaine.

Who’d gotten sick almost as soon as it she’d tasted it.

Could it have been spoiled?

Maybe you’re the one who’s spoiled , said a little voice inside her. These bars have been made by demi-angels with healing properties. Germaine was possessed. Maybe the two don’t mix .

Dianne shivered and shot a glance at Ryan, whose glazed gaze showed how much energy he focused on driving.

“I can drive,” she said.

He looked at her. “Might be a good idea,” he said. “Give the chocolate some time to work.”

He pulled the car over, grinding to a bumpy stop on the side of the road that made Dianne’s heart pound. She jumped out and came around only to find Ryan still sitting, the driver’s side door open.

“Just taking a moment to catch my breath,” he said, sending terror sliding down her spine.

He had to weigh almost a hundred pounds more than her. She’d never be able to get him out of the driver’s seat without help or a miracle.

Desperate, she decided to take a drill sergeant’s tack, or at least what she imagined a drill sergeant would say.

She put her hands on her hips and, glaring at him, lowered her voice to growl like a drill sergeant. “ No time to rest! On your feet and move! ”

Ryan, whose eyes had started to flutter closed, grabbed the steering wheel and stared at her.

“You’re unbelievably beautiful when you yell at me like that,” he said, a weak smile turning the corners of his mouth up. It didn’t reach the rest of his pale, sweating face.

“You gonna make a beauty queen carry your heavy ass?” she asked, ignoring his comment and her rising panic.

“No,” he said, sighing and getting his feet outside of the car and onto the grass of the berm.

Dianne couldn’t let up now. “Pain is just weakness leaving your body. Push through it,” she said, feeling heartless. “ Rangers lead the way , huh? Prove it.”

Ryan grimaced and pulled himself upright before catching himself on the doorframe.

“You’ve got this, Ranger,” she said, trying a little more encouragement. When he didn’t move, she followed inspiration. She lied. “Oh, no! I think they’re coming!”

Ryan lifted his head and scanned the area, his eyes narrowed and his posture alert. After a moment he began shuffling around the end of the car with Dianne at his side, her fingers hovering at his elbow but afraid to touch him.

“Clever,” he said as he finally maneuvered clumsily into the car and dropped into the passenger seat, but not before hitting his head on the doorframe.

“I aim to please,” she said as she shut the door, echoing his earlier response to Olivia. Her heart pounded at his unintentional head injury, but she stuffed it away. There was no time for her emotions.

Hurrying back to the driver’s side, she saw the handgun, which had slipped from Ryan’s lap to the seat. Throwing a look at the battle-hardened Ranger, now slumped against the side door, she sat on the weapon and slammed her door shut.

As she put the car in gear, Ryan said, “Aerie Actual, this is Demon Slayer.”

“Demon Slayer, this is Aerie Actual.” Dianne was surprised to hear a male voice on the other end. Who could have taken Olivia’s place? “Slow going, huh, Ranger?”

Ryan sighed and shifted painfully in his seat. Dianne saw the strain around his eyes and tight lips before he answered. “You can say that again, Aerie Actual. We may not make it to Shkoder before sunset. Sitrep vis-à-vis the flare damage?”

“We’ve had scattered reports from assets via the harmonic network.

It doesn’t look good for most of Europe, though there are some signs that it reaches beyond the continent.

We’re still scouring the neighborhood for older model vehicles to conscript.

And Miró has been assessing the damage to the AW139’s starter-generators and electronic components. ”

“So no Quick Reaction Force extraction?”

“No, not for the present. Your vitals are holding steady, Demon Slayer. You’ll have to push on to the safehouse but be warned. We haven’t heard from the housekeeper in two hours, not since she went out to help a stranded teammate.”

“Copy that,” said Ryan.

“Stay off comms unless absolutely necessary to conserve harmonic energy in your system. Looks like you need it.”

“Wilco.”

“Aerie Actual out.”

Silence descended between them, Dianne to her vigilance and Ryan to his injury.

An hour and a half later, they arrived in Podgorica.

It was early evening. All of the vehicles they’d passed along the highway had been abandoned, and no more ambushes awaited them.

The absolute stillness and silence were eerie, even if the mountain route was never well traveled.

When Dianne twisted the power knob for the radio, nothing but static filled the car interior.

What would it look like in a city? Especially at night, without any power.

Ryan read her mind. “We must be prepared for what we’re likely going to encounter.”

He seemed better after the brief interlude, less pale, though she could smell the warmth of his sweat. It was clean and masculine and layered with a bitter-green herbal scent that she'd started to identify as uniquely Ryan.

“We have to get gas,” she said. “We’re running on fumes, but I didn’t see a gas station before now.” She looked around at the widely spaced buildings along their route, many of them single-story cinderblock of indeterminate purpose. “Doesn’t look so promising here, either.”

“Not a problem as long as we can find some tubing. Know how to siphon gas?” asked Ryan.

“What?” asked Dianne, startled. She looked at him.

He closed his eyes. “Well, we’re not going to get gas from a station, not without power. We’ll have to steal it from another vehicle.” He sounded tired.

Dianne’s heart squeezed. “No. I don’t know how to siphon gas. I think I saw someone doing it in the movies once.”

Ryan sat upright with a grunt. “Never mind. I know how.” He gestured with his chin toward a low white commercial building set back from the road coming up on their right. “Should have what we need in there.”

Dianne didn’t question why they’d find what they needed at a veterinary hospital.

She knew enough to know that it would have medical tubing that they could repurpose.

She parked next to a dirty van, whose gas gauge showed half a tank through a side window.

It didn’t matter, though, how much they got in one attempt.

Once they had the tubing, they had an endless supply from all of the deserted cars they came across.

When they got from their sedan, Ryan managed it without Dianne’s ordering him around like a drill sergeant, but his unsteady gait belied his regained strength. Seeing this, Dianne tucked the gun in the back of her waistband and waited for Ryan, who never asked for the weapon.

Not a good sign.

Ten minutes later, they’d returned from scrounging through the unlit facility, and Ryan bent next to the van as the sunlight faded. Dianne, a sensation of evil creeping over the back of her neck and arms, scanned the empty lot.

After a moment, she slipped the gun into her hands, its warm polymer weight comforting against her palms. Nevertheless, she kept her finger from the trigger, terrified that she might shoot Ryan or herself.

Ryan had the tube in his mouth and had just begun sucking the toxic liquid when a couple dozen people emerged from several stands of trees on either side of the lot.

Most carried items, but in the gloaming, Dianne couldn’t be sure what those were except when the setting sun glinted on metal.

Weapons of some sort, in all probability.

Swallowing hard, she stepped forward to block access to Ryan, raised her hands and said in a loud, confident voice, “Stay back or I’ll shoot.”

Whether they understood English or not little mattered. They apparently understood the muzzle of a handgun, at least long enough to pause.

And then several of the menacing strangers continued toward Dianne and Ryan.

Four hundred miles west in the Italian city of Prato, Liú Xiù eased from the lengthening shadows that hid her under the Porta Pistoiese and moved along the walls of the medieval monasteries lining the Via San Vincenzo.

She touched a fingertip to the small, warm disc hidden under her blouse, praying to its patron to protect her from the lurking dangers.

The power had gone out earlier in the day in the industrial park of Macrolotto di Iolo, north of the Tuscan city’s Chinatown, known locally as Santo Beijing.

Xiù had felt the invisible energy that rushed through the garment workshop that she managed for her cover as an immigrant owner of a medium-sized clothing exporter.

She’d known right away what it was: an electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, and wondered if a foreign agent had triggered a device to shut down the Chinese clothing industry in Italy—and along with it her operation.

Now a rainbow of lights danced overhead in the night sky, and her St. Michael medal burned the skin of her chest.

This was no short-lived, ordinary high-voltage surge initiated by human antagonists.

It was a new era in the far-reaching and consequential war between St. Michael’s warriors on Earth and the daemonic forces that plagued humanity.

And she was being recalled by her handler, from deep cover as a Chinese spy. Somehow, she must survive this new dystopian situation and find Olivia Markham, the American CIA officer that she’d saved in Macau more than a decade ago.