Page 53 of The Shadow of the Count
He grabbed the doctor, intent on getting them somewhere safe before the light failed completely.
Richard started babbling at him, but it made no sense, and he could hear Jeb cursing roundly as he reloaded.
The count was hissing in some foreign language, the air itself seeming to disappear from the room.
He was so cold. So damn cold.
“Peter! Come help me.” Clark was holding the count off by sheer will, a big, ornate cross in his hands.
Leaving Richard with Yvgeny, he dragged himself there, climbing Clark’s body to lay his hands on the cross as well. Adding his will. “You leave us alone! You can’t have him!”
“I’ve already taken him! He’s lost to you!” The count’s roar cracked like lightning, the words like a death knell.
“No!” He grabbed the cross and charged at the count, running full tilt into the beast man’s chest with it.
When Peter hit him, he heard the count scream, and the asshole grabbed him, the bones in his arm snapping.
“Goddamn it, Clark, can’t you bless the bullets or something?” Jeb screamed.
Clark rushed toward them, more holy water sizzling the count’s skin.
The count released him, and Peter fell, gagging with the pain and with the scent of blood in his nose. Not his, either.
Then, with the strength he had left, he slammed the end of the metal cross into the beast.
That did it, the beast turned and ran.
“Up! All of you lazy bastards get up and help us!”
Jeb was shouting, and Peter wanted to scream back, but then he realized Clark and Jeb were helping him and Jeb was waving his arm at Yvgeny and Richard.
“We have to get out of here!” Clark added. “We’ll clear the crypt tomorrow.”
Peter didn’t think he would be doing much of anything tomorrow, but that was beside the point. He told his feet to move. “Donnie.” He tried to say it aloud but wasn’t sure he could.
“We’re going to him,” Jeb told him. “I swear it. Douglas has his back.”
They headed back to the cars, and Peter’s throat felt as if it was nearly squeezed shut tight. What on earth? His arm should have been his biggest concern, but he was a little numb all over.
He wheezed some, and Clark eased him down so his head was tilted back, opening his airway enough for him to keep breathing.
They reached the house, finding the manor an ant’s nest of panic.
Jeb snagged a passing servant. “What’s going on? We need a doctor.”
The man gave him a wide-eyed stare. “The ambulance just left.”
“I can look at Peter and assess if he needs the hospital.” Richard said, coming to face him.
“You back with us, Doc?” Jeb asked.
Richard looked shamefaced. “I am.”
“Who was in the ambulance?” Clark asked sharply.
“Both of the Misters Fitzhugh.”
Charles came sprinting out. “The count attacked us! He ripped Donnie’s throat and Douglas—we need to go to him. He can’t walk!”
