The ledge was wide but sloped outwards a little; it ran crookedly, steeply upwards. Echoing cries still rang from far below where the mist boiled as before; fewer screams now, mainly the signal calls of monstrous searchers and the answers of their fellows. Then –
Zek gave a massive start, drew air in a plainly audible gasp of terror. ‘Vyotsky – he’s coming!’ she said. ‘He’s following us – and Shaithis himself is not far behind him!’
‘Keep still!’ Jazz grabbed her. ‘Shhh!’
They listened, watched. Down below at the edge of the tree-line, the mist parted and Vyotsky came into view. He looked left and right but not up, started toward the base of the cliffs. Perhaps he thought they’d skirted the cliffs, and maybe they should have. But at least on the ledge no one was going to surprise them.
Jazz aimed his SMG, scowled and lowered it. ‘Can’t be sure of hitting him!’ he whispered. ‘These things are for close-quarters fighting – street fighting. Also, the shot would be heard.’
Again the mists parted and the awesome cloaked figure of Shaithis flowed out of them. He looked neither left nor right but inclined his head back to stare directly at the fugitives. His eyes glowed like small fires under the stars.
‘There they are!’ the vampire Lord shouted, pointed. ‘On the ledge, under the cliff. Get after them, Karl. And if you’d be my man, don’t let me down . . .’
As Shaithis glided forward, Vyotsky passed out of sight into the angles of the cliff face. Jazz and Zek heard shale sliding, Vyotsky’s surprised yelp and his cursing. He was on the ledge and had discovered how slippery it was.
‘Move!’ said Jazz. ‘Quick – climb! And pray this ledge goes somewhere. Anywhere!’ But if Zek did pray, then her prayers weren’t answered.
Where the cliff was notched and bent back sharply on itself, the ledge narrowed to an uneven eighteen inches. In the ‘V of the notch a chimney of rock had weathered free, leaning outward over dizzy heights. Behind the chimney scree had gathered, forming the floor of a cave. The stars gleamed down on the ledge, but in the deeps of the cave all was inky blackness.
Shaithis, too, was on the ledge now; his commands came echoing: ‘Karl, I want them alive. The woman for what she may be able to do for me, the man for what he has already done to me.’
Edging along the ledge toward the chimney and the cave behind it, Jazz asked Zek: ‘Why hasn’t Shaithis called up more help?’
‘Probably because he’s sure he doesn’t need it,’ she groaned. Even as she spoke a knob of rock crumbled underfoot where she stepped, causing her feet to slip. Her legs and lower body shot sideways, out over empty space. Jazz let his weapon swing from its sling, grabbed Zek’s flying hand. He dropped to one knee, raked the cliff with his free hand to find a hold. His fingers contacted, grasped a tough root in the instant before the girl’s weight fell on him.
Zek was dangling now, one elbow hooked over the rim of the ledge, the rest of her kicking and swinging. Only Jazz’s grip on her offered any stability at all. ‘Oh, God!’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Drag yourself up,’ Jazz groaned through gritted teeth. ‘Try not to put too much leverage on me. Use your elbows. Squirm, for Christ’s sake!’ She did as he said, came slithering up onto the ledge in front of him. He grabbed her belt, hauled her unceremoniously against the face of the cliff. ‘Now go on all fours,’ he said. ‘Don’t try to stand up or you’ll be over again. If we can just make that chimney . . .’ Oh, and then what? But he refused to think about that.
Finally Zek crawled onto the scree beneath the overhang, collapsed face-down there and spread-eagled herself, dug her fingers deep into loose rock fragments and hung on. Jazz stooped, caught her under the arm and drew her upright. ‘We have to get under cover, he said, ‘otherwise -‘
Ch-ching! came that unmistakable sound from behind them.