Page 580 of Shadowblood Souls
It should be an increasingly urgent approach as the rogues chase the illusion of monster hunters. Andreas watched all the video footage he could find of the vigilante groups so that he could project accurate images from those memories into the rampaging shadowbloods’ minds.
If it all worked out, they’ll have caught glimpses of their prey ducking out of view up ahead here and there, leading them on toward this construction zone. Confirming the story that the hunters thought the site was ideal grounds for an extermination.
Ajax’s voice peals into my head again, sounding louder amid the outer silence.We can see the first of them now. They’re just coming into the cul-de-sac. There’s a minivan… A big pickup truck with a bunch of them sitting in the cargo area… A little delivery truck it looks like they stole from a flower shop.
As he rattles off that list, the first of the vehicles creeps into view. The black minivan looks like a shadow itself on the darkened street.
It rolls to a halt by the curb only a couple of buildings into the dead-end area. Of course, the rogue shadowbloods still think they’re hunting the hunters. They’ll need to be on foot for their main attack.
Which also works in our favor. We don’t want them close enough to their vehicles to make a run for it like last time.
Of course, it won’t be long before they can’t get anywhere on those wheels anyway. As soon as they’ve left the vehicles behind,Jacob will be applying his ability to the engines, snapping and cracking vital components so the motors won’t run.
I suspect he’s looking forward to breaking a few things, even if none of them will be skulls.
The figures gather around the vehicles before prowling forward as one large mass. I make out facial features here and there as they pass the pools of lamp-glow.
It looks like the criminal shadowbloods are still using the kids as a sort of shield. Nadia, Devon, and Tegan walk on the edges of the group alongside other teens and preteens.
I catch sight of the skull-and-snake tattoo emblazoned on the scalp of the group’s apparent leader, who we now know is named Cutler. The hazy light glances off the scarred brow of the man Griffin spoke to briefly, who he said another of the shadowbloods called Omar.
There’s a lamppost with neon orange caution tape wrapped around its middle, about two thirds of the way down the cul-de-sac. That’s our tipping point—when the last of the shadowbloods is past it, we launch our attack.
Most of them are staring into the shadows at the dead end of the street. They pick up their pace, maybe seeing another projected memory that suggests the hunters are in the buildings down there.
My palm turns clammy against the siren device. I wet my lips, keeping my body tensed and motionless.
The group moves past the marked lamppost—the first several figures, then more, then the last forms bringing up the rear…
I wait until that last foot steps past the post’s thin shadow. At the same moment, Ajax’s voice rings through my mind.Now!
I hit the button with more force than it probably needs. The device shivers in my hand.
Its siren wail splits through the night, so loud and piercing I can make out a faint screech even with the industrial earplugsblocking the sound. I can only assume that Sorsha and Crag have set off their devices too.
The mass of prowling shadowbloods breaks apart. Kids and criminals alike stumble, their hands clutching their ears, their faces twisted with agony.
A few of them swipe at their eyes too. Andreas will be filling their heads with a jumble of other remembered images now, a nonsensical mishmash designed to confuse.
I bolt past the door and race toward the group of them, setting the siren device down on the curb. My hand reaches to the syringes hooked on my belt.
The faster we can get them all knocked out, the safer we’ll all be—them included.
The shadowkind are doing their part too. Stretching roots ripple across the pavement from where Willow has appeared by one of the saplings. One body and then another crumples to the ground as Steel and the lamia send out their talents.
The plump woman with sleeping powers is just reaching toward Devon when a massive figure looms in the middle of the chaos. My heart lurches.
One of the criminal shadowbloods has morphed into an unnerving blend of giant man and snake. His hairless scalp gleams with mottled scales—which cover his head like a shell except for his slit-pupil eyes and tapered muzzle.
He’s got no ears. The siren isn’t affecting him.
In the instant I realize that, he aims a contraption that looks like a blend between a crossbow and a gun at Steel. I’ve seen those before—in the hands of the would-be monster hunters.
A gleaming metal bolt that must be silver and iron shoots from the weapon and stabs straight into the demon’s broad forehead.
Twenty-Four
Riva
