Billy the Kid & the Vampyres of Vegas (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5.5) by Michael Scott Page A
Authors: Michael Scott
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“You fulfilled your destiny.”
“And now it’s time to fulfill yours—it is time to die, Shadow.”
Scathach turned.
Setanta was standing in the center of the room, holding a spear as tall as he was. The head of the spear was a pyramid-shaped wedge of barbed and hooked metal. The shaft was a pale white bone. “Recognize this?” he asked.
“The Gáe Bolga,” she whispered. The Death Spear. She hadn’t seen the legendary weapon in millennia. Any wound from this weapon—no matter how minor—was fatal. “I gave that to you a long time ago.” She turned back to the window as if unconcerned. “What will you do when you kill me, Cuchulain?”
“I am Setanta,” he insisted. “There is a war coming, Shadow. The Elders will reclaim this Shadowrealm. I have been told to build a vampyre army, to create legions of cucubuths and hold them in readiness to unleash them on San Francisco and Los Angeles. When the war is over, I will control the entire West Coast of America.”
“You could stand against them and fight with me,” she suggested. “We’ve faced down monsters before.”
“I prefer the winning side.”
“Did you ever wonder why I loved you, Cuchulain?” Scathach asked.
“Everyone loved me,” he said arrogantly.
“I loved you because I once saw in you the very best of the new human race. But that love blinded me to what you really were.”
Setanta ignored her words. Drawing back his arm, he flung the Gáe Bolga. It screamed through the air. “Time to die.”
“Time to die,” Scathach echoed. Without looking around, she stepped to the side, caught the spear in midair, turned and flung it back at the young man.
Setanta managed a single horrified scream before the spear took him high in the chest. The weapon vibrated, the bone-white shaft shimmering with bands of color. Setanta’s golden hair turned gray, then white. His smooth skin ran with wrinkles. “You said you loved me …,” he breathed.
The Shadow’s face was a mask. “I loved Cuchulain, but you’re Setanta.” She clapped her hands sharply together and the man exploded into fine white powder. For a single moment, a cloud hung in the center of the room, a vaguely man-shaped outline in dust.
The door burst open and Billy the Kid appeared. The sudden draft of air sent the powder curling past Scathach, through the broken window and out into the morning air.
Billy was red-faced and gasping and his entire body was covered in filthy grey-black grit. “You okay?” he wheezed.
“Fine.” She turned back to the window and watched the Crow Goddess swoop over the city, following the almost invisible twist of dust in the air.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
Scathach crossed the floor and lifted the Gáe Bolga, tapping the head against her boot. “In a manner of speaking.”
“And the person you came to rescue?”
“Set free,” she said. She looked Billy up and down. “I am pleased that you survived.”
“I’m rather pleased myself.” Billy grinned. “The vampyres—with a—were so intent on fighting me, they forgot about the sun!” He brushed some of the filthy grit off his clothes. “You should have seen it. One moment they were getting set to eat me and the next it looked like an explosion in a flour factory!”
“And then you raced up here to rescue me,” Scathach teased.
Beneath the gritty ash, Billy the Kid’s cheeks flared crimson.
The Shadow squeezed his shoulder hard. “You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.”
19.
“You never did tell me what’s in the jar I delivered,” Billy said as they pulled out of the garage.
Scathach nodded. “Yes. The jar. Have you ever heard of Pandora’s Box?”
“Sure,” the Kid answered, then jerked his thumb behind him toward the trunk of the car. “But that’s a jar, not a box.”
Scathach smiled, showing her vampire teeth. “Well, pithos was a bad translation. It doesn’t mean ‘box.’ It means ‘jar.’ ”
“So we just
“And now it’s time to fulfill yours—it is time to die, Shadow.”
Scathach turned.
Setanta was standing in the center of the room, holding a spear as tall as he was. The head of the spear was a pyramid-shaped wedge of barbed and hooked metal. The shaft was a pale white bone. “Recognize this?” he asked.
“The Gáe Bolga,” she whispered. The Death Spear. She hadn’t seen the legendary weapon in millennia. Any wound from this weapon—no matter how minor—was fatal. “I gave that to you a long time ago.” She turned back to the window as if unconcerned. “What will you do when you kill me, Cuchulain?”
“I am Setanta,” he insisted. “There is a war coming, Shadow. The Elders will reclaim this Shadowrealm. I have been told to build a vampyre army, to create legions of cucubuths and hold them in readiness to unleash them on San Francisco and Los Angeles. When the war is over, I will control the entire West Coast of America.”
“You could stand against them and fight with me,” she suggested. “We’ve faced down monsters before.”
“I prefer the winning side.”
“Did you ever wonder why I loved you, Cuchulain?” Scathach asked.
“Everyone loved me,” he said arrogantly.
“I loved you because I once saw in you the very best of the new human race. But that love blinded me to what you really were.”
Setanta ignored her words. Drawing back his arm, he flung the Gáe Bolga. It screamed through the air. “Time to die.”
“Time to die,” Scathach echoed. Without looking around, she stepped to the side, caught the spear in midair, turned and flung it back at the young man.
Setanta managed a single horrified scream before the spear took him high in the chest. The weapon vibrated, the bone-white shaft shimmering with bands of color. Setanta’s golden hair turned gray, then white. His smooth skin ran with wrinkles. “You said you loved me …,” he breathed.
The Shadow’s face was a mask. “I loved Cuchulain, but you’re Setanta.” She clapped her hands sharply together and the man exploded into fine white powder. For a single moment, a cloud hung in the center of the room, a vaguely man-shaped outline in dust.
The door burst open and Billy the Kid appeared. The sudden draft of air sent the powder curling past Scathach, through the broken window and out into the morning air.
Billy was red-faced and gasping and his entire body was covered in filthy grey-black grit. “You okay?” he wheezed.
“Fine.” She turned back to the window and watched the Crow Goddess swoop over the city, following the almost invisible twist of dust in the air.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
Scathach crossed the floor and lifted the Gáe Bolga, tapping the head against her boot. “In a manner of speaking.”
“And the person you came to rescue?”
“Set free,” she said. She looked Billy up and down. “I am pleased that you survived.”
“I’m rather pleased myself.” Billy grinned. “The vampyres—with a—were so intent on fighting me, they forgot about the sun!” He brushed some of the filthy grit off his clothes. “You should have seen it. One moment they were getting set to eat me and the next it looked like an explosion in a flour factory!”
“And then you raced up here to rescue me,” Scathach teased.
Beneath the gritty ash, Billy the Kid’s cheeks flared crimson.
The Shadow squeezed his shoulder hard. “You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.”
19.
“You never did tell me what’s in the jar I delivered,” Billy said as they pulled out of the garage.
Scathach nodded. “Yes. The jar. Have you ever heard of Pandora’s Box?”
“Sure,” the Kid answered, then jerked his thumb behind him toward the trunk of the car. “But that’s a jar, not a box.”
Scathach smiled, showing her vampire teeth. “Well, pithos was a bad translation. It doesn’t mean ‘box.’ It means ‘jar.’ ”
“So we just
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