Free (The Push Chronicles (Book 2): Indefatigable by J.B. Garner Page A

triumphant snarl.
    Tank furiously tried to right himself with faint luck.  The beast pounced at me, either to bite or just snap me like a twig.  I vetoed both of those proposals, kicking up with both feet and launching the corpse against the rafters, making a nice crater in the plaster.  Clambering sideways to avoid gravity's inevitable pull, I rummaged for my second stake.  As the vampire crashed back to the floor with barely any obvious damage, my hand came back with a snapped and mangled stake.  It had (back to my usual bad luck) been in the path of at least two of those rubber bullets and was now a mostly unusable mess.  I spun the remains of the sharp end and held it in between my knuckles, hoping that Tank would get up, even if I knew that was probably not going to happen.
    "Boss wants you, but I'm too hungry, sorry," the thing hissed as it blurred towards me.  I could barely understand it, with how fast it spoke.  As I twisted away from it's initial grab, delivering a sharp scratch with my wooden poker in return, I had a realization.  They had been talking, coordinating this entire time.  The speech had just been so fast, so high-frequency, human ears couldn't hear it.  Hopefully I would live long enough to use that fact.  Fortunately, even with my stakes broken, I had an ace in the hole as I reached for my neck.
    Or I was supposed to have.  In my fevered state earlier, I had forgotten the crucifix from Underground.  I cursed my human weakness as a vampire's hand grasped my throat.  I instantly responded by driving the sharp nub of wood deep into it's forearm, but the creature didn't relent, despite the pain.  Just like a human could try to ignore his instincts to pain, these rational vampires could do the same.
    "Milady is NOT on the menu, you scallywag!"  There was the distinct twang of the Argent Archer's mechanized crossbow and the vampire grew a wooden arrow through the chest.  The choking grasp around my neck abated as the corpse fell to the floor.  Archer was standing in the hole Tank made, having fired a bolt with pinpoint accuracy through the finale of the melee between Medusa and the other vampire, the now debris-laden bar, and with just enough force to punch through the beast but not impale me in the process.  It wasn't a bad shot, not at all.
    Unlike most Push Heroes, I didn't make time for chatter, so I simply nodded to Archer and, with a grunt of exertion, helped Tank get himself upright again.  Medusa drove a bar stool leg first into her half-stone-half-flesh opponent, which caused the creature to turn entirely into very bizarre lawn sculpture.
    "Party is hot outside, if you lovely people could come help?" Ex queried in his harried, 'the-plan-is-falling-apart' voice.  Yes, we had been in enough bad situations that I could pick that voice out.  I hopped on Tank's back and clapped his shoulder.
    "They coordinate.  High-frequency speech," I got out over the mic.  My voice sounded like hell and I still felt very wheezy from the rubber bullets earlier.  I had a feeling something might be cracked or bruised worse than I wanted.  "We're coming."
     
    The largest part of the vampire pack had hit outside in an attempt to escape.  I could only guess there was some sort of limitation to their ability to turn to fog, as it was obvious that several had done so but couldn't escape the dome, despite the lack of an air-tight seal.  Still, the unnatural mist didn't help with the raging melee.  The shadowy figures of the corpses seemed to vanish and reappear in the billows of fog at will to make attacks.
    Hexagon and Extinguisher were back-to-back, while Mind's Eye hovered above their heads with an honor guard of several telekinetically controlled shafts of wood.  None of my friends were unscathed.  Even Hexagon's nigh-invulnerable skin had bloody scratches and holes from fangs in it.  There was a messy circle of at least six corpses around them, mostly staked but two were simply