“Not all of them,” he said. “Just the ones without death dates, I think. This one is 1449.”
Sierra and Carter exchanged looks. To see all the stones, at least one of them would have to leave the cover of the mausoleum.
“I can see two from here,” said Adi. “1517 and 1580.”
“Hold on,” said Sierra. “I need something to write this down. What can we—”
“No, I’ve got it,” said Carter. She closed her eyes, face scrunched in concentration. “We’re at 4,546 so far.”
Sierra shot her an impressed look, then glanced at Beck. “How many Draculas do we think there are?”
“There were six dinner guests,” he answered. Three more.
“I see another one,” said Sierra. “1702.”
“6,248,” Carter murmured.
Beck scanned what he could see of the cemetery, not knowing if the two remaining gravestones were to his left or right. Closer to the mausoleum . . . or closer to the gate.
He dared to lean forward enough to spy Adi against the stone wall. Adi met his gaze. His brow creased—Beck must’ve been looking pretty awful, if the worry in Adi’s expression was anything to go by.
Then Adi set his jaw with a look of grim determination. Beck had a flash of understanding seconds before it happened. “Adi, wait—”
Adi raised the sword and hollered, shoving the blade through the bars, straight into Fitzy’s gut. The gun dropped, skittering back toward the table.
Fighting his instinct to stay hidden, Beck grabbed the gravestone and used it to propel himself to his feet.
While Symphony howled a string of insults, Beck darted down the row of headstones, ignoring the first stab of pain in his side. Searching, searching . . . there!Vali Voyvoda.
“1537!” he shouted, skidding around one marker, ignoring the gargoyles leering down at him.
“Get the gun!” Fitzy grunted. “We’ll tell the police it was . . . self-defense.” His voice was garbled with pain. “Sierra attacked us. You were trying to protect your son.”
“You better not be dying, Fitzgerald,” growled Symphony. “I’ll need your testimony.”
“Just finish this!”
A gunshot made Beck jump. Adi was yelling and Carter was screaming and—there!Kristoph Draconem.“And 1655! That should be all of them!”
“9,440!” said Carter.
Sierra darted around the corner of the mausoleum. Beck met her at the door, but she was already inputting the code.9-4-4-0.
The door unlocked, the most glorious sound Beck had ever heard.
“Adi, come on!” Sierra shouted.
Beck stumbled inside. Sierra and Carter followed. More gunfire. Beck lost count of how many bullets had been shot. He pressed his hands to his side and looked back, afraid he would see Adi lying face down in the graveyard, swathed in moonlight and mist.
But no—Adi was running, gripping the handle of the sword as he hurled himself over the nearest gravestone, charging into the mausoleum. Behind him, still trapped beyond the gate, Fitzy was on the ground, covered in blood where Adi had stabbed him. Symphony had the gun now, her face set with determination.
Another bullet pinged off the heavy marble door as Carter shoved it closed.
Beck followed the others down a set of stone steps, expecting to be free. But when he reached the foot of the stairs he found exactly what was advertised—the inside of a mausoleum.
And no apparent means of escape.
50
