The Slayer by Theresa Meyers Read Free Book Online

doesn’t want him anywhere near your charming influence.”
    Both the contessa and the envoy tensed, their fangs descending with an audible flick . “We are taking Mr. Jackson with us, with or without your employer’s consent, sir,” she said firmly.
    Winn had had enough.
    â€œThere ain’t a need to be so damn polite about all this,” he growled. “Look here, Morpheus. I ain’t goin’ with you.” Winn shifted his gaze to the vampires. “We done now? I thought we had a ship to catch.”
    â€œNot so fast, Mr. Jackson,” Dr. Morpheus said, his voice dropping a notch with expectation. “Rathe has plans for you.” The man began to swell, his belly growing. The buttons on his acid green vest popped off and flew in all directions.
    The sound of ripping fabric filled the air. Beneath Winn the horse whinnied and shied backward, the white of its eyes visible. Winn tightened his hold on the reins. “What the hell—” he breathed.
    Morpheus continued to swell, his grotesquely distended stomach shiny in the moonlight. He let out a bloodcurdling yell as his abdomen split open from waist to breastbone and thousands of small, shining objects poured out of him onto the desert sand.
    Winn wasn’t about to stick around long enough to find out what they were. “Run!” he yelled. He wheeled his horse around and kicked it into a full gallop.
    He glanced back and saw Morpheus standing, fully whole once more, watching them with a satisfied smirk right below his pencil-thin black mustache. For a moment Winn thought it a trick of the light. The desert sand seemed to shimmer and move, though it wasn’t midday and there was no heat wave; the tide seemed to be following them in a ripple across the valley.
    â€œWhat do you make of that?” he yelled at Enric.
    â€œThe ground is moving.”
    â€œImpossible,” the contessa shot back.
    Winn narrowed his eyes. “That ain’t the ground. There’s something moving on top of it.” The unnatural silvery sheen kept advancing.
    â€œCome on. The ship is just on the other side of this mountain.” The contessa motioned them forward with a sweep of her hand. Winn urged his horse to follow, but the animal had to trot to keep up with the rapid pace of the vampires. As they crested the mountain range they looked down upon a most unusual sight.
    An enormous silver dirigible, nearly two hundred feet long, sat upon the floor of the desolate desert valley, illuminated by the moonlight. On the pale surface he could easily see the sigil marking the side of the vessel, a red castle turret with a crenellated top in the Norman fashion, bracketed on either side by black bat wings. It fairly screamed vampires. “Hardly subtle,” he muttered to himself.
    At the base of the ship, beneath the large curve of the air balloon, rested a three-story gondola crafted with polished teakwood, brass, and glass. In a word, expensive. Clearly they were a well-funded group, which explained why they thought they could buy just about damn near anything they wanted—including him. Well, they had a surprise coming. He had his own reasons for joining up with these Darkin. He pushed forward, the loose rock and dirt on the downward side of the hills forcing him to move slower or risk breaking the horse’s leg or getting thrown.
    Behind them the silver moving tide crested the face of the mountain. The horse shied, tossing its head and whinnying in distress as mechanical spiders the size of a tin cup moved in a clacking swarm over the rocks directly behind them. “Move!” Winn yelled.
    The vampires darted down the uneven slope, and Winn did his best to follow without injuring the horse. While the spiders were close, the vampires and the horse were faster.
    The massive dirigible was even larger up close. Enormous creases marked the rigid frame latticework of ribs beneath the silver fabric skin of the ship.