The Champion

by H. P. Mallory

  I bounded across the foyer and up the stairs until I reached Jolie’s door. I knocked a few times, and she opened it in seconds.

  “Well?”

  “It’s positive,” I answered, and then promptly burst into tears.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bryn

  Sinjin’s attempts at forcing me to stop training had the effect of making me double my sessions. I hated being told what to do. Especially by a man. Especially by a six-hundred-year- old vampire who didn’t believe that he was the father of my child.

  The asshole.

  On this particular evening, I was training some of the more junior members of the tribe. Their inexperience tested my patience— a lot. But I kept reminding myself that they were trying their best.

  “Right,” I said. “Next, we’re going to try … we’re going to try …”

  Oh God! I was going to be sick!

  Unable to speak, I held my hand up to the bemused-looking group and ran to the nearest grove of trees, where I promptly puked behind an enormous oak tree.

  Tears stung my eyes as I fought for breath and turned around, panting as I leaned against the tree.

  This must be the famous morning sickness that Jolie had warned me about. Although I didn’t know if you could get morning sickness in the evening. I’d have to ask Jolie, my font of pregnancy wisdom.

  Composing myself, I walked back to the edge of the grove and called out to my group.

  “That’s enough for now, guys. Well done, and keep on practicing. Same time, same place tomorrow.”

  After a mini-discussion, in which they were probably debating what the hell was wrong with their trainer, the group dispersed, leaving me mercifully alone. I walked to the nearest oak tree and laid my forehead against the trunk. I felt weak, and I still felt nauseous.

  “Lady Bryn.”

  I was so startled that I almost hit my head on a low hanging branch. I turned to face my least favorite member of the Underworld: Varick.

  Varick was a master vampire, like Sinjin, and had, in fact, been Sinjin’s former teacher and creator. But between Sinjin and Varick, it became a case of the pupil surpassing the teacher in terms of both status and power, something Varick didn’t like one little bit. He seethed with resentment for his fellow vampire.

  Sinjin claimed that Varick was only jealous of his stunning good looks, but, of course, Sinjin would say that.

  Varick had never been easy on the eye. He was thin to the point of being emaciated, with hollow, red-rimmed eyes and yellowed teeth. But I’d never seen him look so awful as he did right now. His skin had an unsavory grey-green pallor, and he appeared stooped over and frail.

  “Varick, you look like shit,” I said, shaking my head as I took him in. “Are you sick?” Was it even possible for a vampire to get sick? I wasn’t sure.

  “I am quite well, princess, but thank you for asking,” he muttered.

  His words were polite, but, as always, I sensed a hostile undertone. Even the way he said “princess” made my skin crawl. It would be fair to say that everything about Varick gave me the creeps. I’d tried my best to like him in the beginning, seeing as how he was an important member of the council. And as a master vampire, he was undeniably powerful in terms of both his magical abilities and physical strength. But I was learning to trust my instincts more and more, and now my instincts were talking loud and clear, saying stay away .

  “Oh.”

  “How’s my favorite pupil these days?” Varick asked.

  I frowned. “You mean Sinjin?”

  “Who else, my dear?”

  “Well, I’d hardly call him your pupil. It’s a long time since you had anything useful to teach him.” I took a breath. “And I’d hardly call him your favorite… anything.”

  Varick glared frostily at me. I set my shoulders back and stood up straight. I refused to be intimidated. I also wondered why I was bothering to defend Sinjin when he was so busy being a dickhead.

  Varick, who, up until now had been sauntering slowly towards me, suddenly dematerialized and reappeared inches away from me. He leaned up against the oak tree, towering over my body in what I supposed he imagined to be a threatening way. I backed away without even thinking about what I was doing.

  “Actually,” he said, “you are quite wrong. Sinjin has a great deal to learn from me, only he chooses not to do so. Only recently, I offered him extremely valuable information, but he foolishly turned down my remarkably generous offer. Still, what else would you expect from such a … buffoon.”

  “Sinjin is not a buffoon! He’s ten times the vampire you’ll ever be!”

  Again! The idiotic defense of Sinjin. Varick just stood there and laughed.

  “My, my,” he said. “You are clearly quite taken with Mr Sinclair, are you not? What a lucky fellow he is.”

  “I’m not taken with him at all,” I lied. “I just … don’t like hearing our people bad-mouthing each other. It’s not conducive to teamwork.”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much. But as you wish, dear. It is really no concern of mine.”

  I realized that while we’d been talking, Varick had moved imperceptibly closer to me again. Not taking my eyes off his hideous face, I inched slowly backwards. I wasn’t sure what his game was or why he’d come to visit me in the first place.

  “So, anyway, my dear,” he continued.

  “I’m not your dear, so don’t call me that.”

  He chose to ignore me. “This information I just mentioned still happens to be up for grabs. To the right bidder, of course.”

  “What information?”

  He smiled, and it was all yellowed, crooked and broken teeth. “A little birdie told me you were interested in removing Dureau Chevalier’s curse.”

  I felt surprise ricochet through me. Who had told him?

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  “For the right price …”

  “Before I agree to pay you anything, I need more details. What’s the nature of this information, and where did it come from? And what sort of payment are you looking for?”

  “Though my source must remain concealed, I thought you might be interested to know how Luce came to be aware of Dureau’s curse.” He paused—probably for dramatic flair.

  His words, meanwhile, hit me in the solar plexus. Yes, it was information I would very much like to know.

  “And your price?”

  In an instant, Varick transported himself right beside me. I could smell his foul breath as he whispered into my ear.

  “A mere taste.”

  I was just in time to see Varick’s vile, yellow fangs descending as he lowered his mouth to the side of my throat. I drew back in horror and shoved him in the chest with all the strength I possessed. He barely budged, but I was strong enough to make him miss his target and he had to right himself to keep from tripping over. Regardless, I was dismayed by how solid he felt. Varick looked as if he could be blown away by a strong breeze, but pushing him had felt like pushing a brick wall.

  “How dare you?” I yelled, feeling the fury rising up, knowing I could use it. I backed away and adopted a fighting stance.

  “Come on, Bryn,” he answered with another smile. “You know you want to.”

  “I can assure you it’s the last thing I would ever want.”

  “No need to be coy, now. I know you like it when a vampire feeds on you. And word on the street is that your blood is beyond compare. I’ve even heard tell that it contains remarkable properties. It’s quite a few centuries since I have been able to take a stroll in the sunshine. I should dearly like to do so again.”

  I was shocked. How did he know my blood could render a vampire immune to sunlight? Had Sinjin told him? If so, I’d kill him the next time I saw him. But first, I had to get through this situation. It didn’t help that Varick’s actions were bringing back, in vivid and horrific detail, the time I’d been imprisoned and used as a “breeder” in Luce’s camp.

  I would never let another man force hi
mself on me again. I could feel the Flame ignite somewhere deep inside me, but I immediately quashed it. What if it harmed the baby? I would have to fight Varick the old-fashioned way.

  “Come and get it, then,” I said, and held up my fists to show him I wasn’t going to go down easily. No, he’d have the fight of his life, and hopefully, he’d realize it wasn’t worth it.

  Varick threw back his odious head and laughed like a cartoon villain. “Quite the feisty one, are you not? I can see why Sinclair finds you so appealing. It is not just your alluring curves or your honey tresses or … your soft, warm, creamy skin.”

  And just like that, he was on me again, one hand on the small of my back, the other yanking my hair as he aimed for my throat with his hideous mouth again. Without missing a beat, I brought my knee up sharply and got him directly in the balls. Varick immediately let go of me and howled in pain. He grabbed at his dick and staggered for a moment or two. But he was only disabled for a distressingly short amount of time.

  Never underestimate your opponent! The words echoed in my head.

  And whatever you do, don’t ever, ever underestimate a master vampire.

  Varick launched himself at me once more, his face contorted with rage. I reached for the dagger I kept concealed at the back of my shin and raised it threateningly. But rather than being deterred, Varick grabbed me by the wrist and twisted the dagger out of my grip. Now it was my turn to howl in pain. Our eyes met. His glowed almost completely white: a bad sign.

  I was in trouble, as I was no match for his enormous strength, and he was intent on his prize. Inches away from becoming Varick’s latest donor, I made a snap decision. My baby couldn’t live if her mother had no blood to give her. So I called forth the Flame.

  I watched as Varick’s expression changed from ravenous to horrified, as the fire danced on my skin and burnt through to his. He released me instantly, and I saw with satisfaction the fear and pain in his eyes.

  “Don’t you ever come near me again, you pathetic fucking bastard,” I spat.

  I saw the hatred written all over his face.

  He as good as hissed at me before dematerializing and leaving me alone with the trees. I forced myself to take deep breaths and gradually extinguished the flames that danced and lapped on my skin. As usual, I was left unscathed. I could only hope the same could be said for the baby.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sinjin

  I must admit that this vampire knew not what to do with himself. Bryn’s pregnancy had caused so many conflicting emotions to arise within me. But, by now, my anger had more or less burnt itself out and been replaced with a deep sense of ennui.

  We were on the brink of war with a most formidable enemy, and I knew I should be doing everything I possibly could to prepare for such an eventuality. But all I wanted to do was lounge about on my bed like some ineffectual teenager and feel sorry for myself. I could not actually remember what it felt like to be a teenager—it was a frightfully long time ago, after all. But I had been observing Damek of late, especially in his mooning after Dayna.

  Damek was half-Daywalker and half-Elemental, and she was pure werewolf. Surely the stars were not aligned with such a pairing? I could not imagine it was meant to be. But there was no telling Damek that. Teenagers always thought they knew everything, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

  But really, the situation with Bryn and her pregnancy was eating me up inside. Was Audrey correct about her brother never having consummated his love for Bryn? Audrey had sounded utterly convincing. Yet how? … If Chevalier were not the father, then who? … I decided to silence this infuriating internal monologue once and for all by going straight to the horse’s mouth. Or rather, the frog’s mouth.

  I knew just where I should find Chevalier, as he was under house arrest at Mathilda’s. I mused that if I had to choose somewhere to be under house arrest, I might well choose Mathilda’s—her cottage had a tranquil, comforting feel to it. Thus, I did not feel too much sympathy for him. None, actually.

  I saw Chevalier immediately, through the window in Mathilda’s sitting room. He was leaning back into the corner couch, an arm stretched out on either side of him and his legs casually crossed. I could hear strains of Mozart coming through the open window. I was partial to a bit of baroque myself. Regardless, I could not fault his taste in music, or women, as it so happened.

  Upon my approach, he saw me and immediately stood up. I waited at the door for him to open it.

  “Sinjin.” He nodded formally. “If you’re looking for Mathilda, she …”

  “Actually, it is you I am looking for.”

  Did the words sound threatening? I certainly hoped so. A few seconds of silence followed, interrupted only by the ticking of Mathilda’s grandfather clock. Chevalier opened the door a little wider.

  “Come in, then.”

  I strolled past him, hands clasped behind my back, and into the sitting room. Once there, I settled myself into an overstuffed armchair and regarded him coolly as he sat down opposite me. This time, his posture was not quite so casual. He switched off the music with a remote control and turned his full attention to me.

  “What do you want, Sinclair?”

  “The truth.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “The truth? As in, the meaning of life? I’m quite flattered you’ve come to me.”

  The bloody tosser.

  “I am referring to the truth about you and Lady Bryn.”

  He flicked back his ludicrous mop of hair and glared at me. I returned the glare forthwith.

  “What business is it of yours?”

  Arsehole.

  I leaned forward in my seat. “I will tell you.”

  “Please do.”

  “Lady Bryn is with child.”

  It was clear from his stunned expression that he had not known about her condition. He looked up into the air above him, as if for answers.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” he said, mostly to himself.

  I felt my ever-present fury, which until now had been dormant, rear its ugly head once more. It brought me to my feet.

  “And why would she tell you, Chevalier, unless she owed you an explanation of such a subject?”

  He looked at me in surprise. Then comprehension dawned on his stupid face. “You believe I’m the father.”

  “Well,” I continued as I wrapped my arms against my chest, “Are you?”

  He laughed. Laughed!

  “You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

  The fury was unleashed. Without consciously intending it, I dematerialized and reappeared inches from the man, my hand gripping his throat. I could see the fear in his eyes. Such fear was rapidly replaced by his own anger.

  “Get your filthy hands off me, vampire.”

  And with that, he dematerialized also—all the way to the other side of the room. I had forgotten he had received such lessons from Varick. I was impressed, in spite of myself. But did I show it? Of course not!

  “I can assure you, Monsieur Frog, that my hands are never filthy,” I said in a seething tone. “I take the precaution of carrying hand sanitizer with me wherever I go.” Irrelevant, perhaps, but I felt compelled to make the point, all the same. I was certainly not filthy.

  “You needn’t worry,” he said, testily. “There is absolutely no chance of me being the father of Bryn’s child.”

  “You mean ...?”

  He nodded. “We’ve never had intercourse.”

  “Oh.” I could not conceal my delight. This was welcome news indeed. That delight faded somewhat as I turned to face the mystery still afoot—that being, just who was the father of the child?

  “I would have backed off way before now, had I known she was carrying another man’s child,” Chevalier continued in that insipid manner of his.

  Just so. I nodded, understanding the sentiment absolutely.

  He approached me slowly and warily. I was on high alert, scanning his body for signs of concealed weaponry. But the fop m
erely held out his hand.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  “What …?”

  “On the baby. And on winning the affections of Lady Bryn. I concede defeat.”

  I hesitated for a moment but then shook his hand, even as I was perplexed by his commentary. His shake was surprisingly firm for such a dandy.

  “I appreciate your congratulations, but clearly, I am not the father of this infant,” I said, eyeing him narrowly. “Obviously.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said as he shook his head and walked to the other side of the room. There, he picked up a decanter that stood upon a tray beside the sofa. He poured himself a drink of something that smelled like gin.

  “How can you not know about that ?” I asked.

  “I’ve learned in the last few years that nothing is impossible,” he said as he returned with his beverage and held it up to me as though to toast. “I would offer you one, but we both know liquor is not the beverage in which you indulge.”

  “Quite so.”

  “As I was saying,” he continued, and he swirled the contents of his glass quite thoroughly. “The world of magic is a weird and wonderful place. It’s best not to discount anything, as… impossible as it may seem.”

  I considered his words. Could he be correct?

  “I consider the option that I am the father of the babe to be highly improbable,” I responded, even as a congenial smile spread across my face. “However, I appreciate this … frank discussion. I wish you well in fortifying your mental defenses against Luce.”

  He nodded at me, looking mildly surprised. Not to mention amused.

  Idiot.

  I was scarcely down the garden path when a high, shrill voice called out my name in greeting. It was immediately recognizable to me.

  “Mathilda. I thought you were out.”

  “Just collecting plants in the woodland, my dear. Were you looking for me?”

  “Actually, I was just having a word with Chevalier.”

  “Now, Sinjin. I hope you two weren’t having unfriendly words. I don’t like that sort of negative energy in my home.”

  She looked up at me fiercely. Or as fiercely a woman four times smaller and lighter than me could look. But I would have been a fool to underestimate her magical Fae powers. I was struck once more by her ethereal beauty, quite exceptional in one so ancient. As always, she appeared to glow, and her long, silver ringlets seemed to move of their own accord.