by AD Starrling
Up ahead, Bruno cried out and almost fell. He clamped a hand across the fresh bullet wound on his thigh and kept running. Anatole draped an arm around the bodyguard’s waist and dragged him forward, their breaths leaving their lips in hoarse gasps.
Fear drenched my body in a cold sweat. The shadows between the trees were drawing closer. The enemy was flanking us on all sides: we were being herded inside a closing circle from which there would be no escape. ‘We need to split up!’ I called out to Victor urgently. He cast a quick glance around and nodded in agreement. Seconds later, we divided into pairs and headed off in different directions.
My gaze strayed to the blood dripping down Reid’s left arm as we continued running north. ‘You okay?’ I said anxiously.
‘Yeah,’ he replied with a grimace. ‘The bullet went through the flesh.’
Another explosion rocked through the night. It was followed by a bloom of brightness between the trees behind and to the right. Hungry flames painted the sky above the burning house with an orange glow. My eyes narrowed. The light also revealed the dozens of figures closing in on us.
Shots rang out from somewhere close. Reid looked over his shoulder, grabbed my arm and dragged me down into a thicket. We lay frozen on the ground, struggling to silence the sound of our harsh breathing. A second later, footsteps thundered past the bushes. Reid raised his head slightly and peeked through the low branches. He glanced at me and nodded once, the Glock gripped tightly in his hands. We rose to our feet and shot the four Hunters several feet ahead before they could sense our presence. The immortals fell with hardly a cry. By the time their bodies struck the forest floor, we were already running.
Muzzles flared repeatedly in the gloom. We darted between trees, bullets peppering trunks and showering us with fragments of wood. A splinter sliced through my scalp. I blinked blood out of my eye and focused on where my feet were landing.
Though only minutes had passed since the first explosion tore through the safe house, I could feel a wave of sluggishness creeping through my body. Out of the corner of my eyes, I sensed that Reid’s movements had also grown slower. Considering the events of the last week, this was hardly a surprise. Yet, although we were both still functioning at over eighty percent of our abilities, I knew that we desperately needed to be closer to a hundred if we were to make it through the night.
The darkness ahead grew lighter, distracting me from my grim reflections. I studied the landscape with narrowed eyes. The trees thinned out. A glade materialised out of the gloom.
We burst into the open space, our breaths coming hard and fast as we raced for the cover of the trees two hundred feet away. I suspected the same thought had just crossed Reid’s mind: if the Crovirs found us now, they would shoot us down like fish in a barrel.
We were halfway across the clearing when Reid gasped and fell. I skidded to a halt on the muddy, leaf covered ground and stumbled back towards him.
He lay on his back in a shallow puddle of inky water. I reached him in time to see blood bloom across his shirt from a fresh bullet wound.
Reid blinked at me blankly. He lifted a hand to his chest and stared at his crimson fingers. I dropped to my knees by his side. His gaze shifted to my face. ‘Damn. This is definitely not good,’ he murmured. His eyes fluttered close and he lost consciousness.
‘No,’ I whispered brokenly. I dropped my guns and pressed my hands against the bubbling hole in his ribcage, disbelief numbing my senses while I gazed desperately at his pale face. His breathing grew laboured, the air rattling in and out of his lips in shallow pants. I felt and heard the faint whistle beneath my fingers and pushed down harder.
Heat exploded on my right flank.
A shocked grunt escaped my lips. I was already reaching for the guns when the second bullet hissed through the night and grazed my forehead. I blinked fresh blood out of my eyes and twisted on my knees.
A man walked out from under the line of trees to the west of the clearing. As he crossed the ground towards me, he put away the gun and suppressor in his hand and reached for the sword at his waist.
I gritted my teeth, climbed to my feet and drew the katana from its sheath in a double-handed grip. Wet warmth coursed down my side and leg. I didn’t have to look to tell that I was bleeding heavily.
The stranger paused a dozen feet from where I stood, swaying slightly. ‘We meet again, half-breed,’ he said calmly.
I studied the dark clad figure in front of me and blinked repeatedly to clear the blood from my vision. Hundreds of years of instinct warned me that this was not a man I dared look away from.
The immortal was tall and lean. His shoulder length ash blond hair gleamed dully under the pale moonlight drifting in slivers through the clouds that marched across the sky. A scar carved a jagged path from the corner of his right ear all the way down to his mouth. Despite the radiance that bathed the clearing, it was too dark to fathom the colour of his eyes.
Though I could not recall ever having met him before, the stranger looked disturbingly familiar. And it was evident from his words that he knew me. I pushed this troubling feeling aside and focused on his feet. I knew they would betray his next move. Already, my vision was starting to blur.
I almost missed the first swing of his blade and lurched backward awkwardly. The edge of the sword glinted as it whispered past my face. The flow of blood from my flank doubled.
Metal clashed against metal when our blades met a heartbeat later. I parried his blows unevenly. Barely ten seconds passed before I found myself forced back a step. Despite the haze of pain and the blood loss that dulled my senses, I recognised his expert swordsmanship.
A mocking smile dawned on the stranger’s face as he continued his relentless attack: he had barely broken into a sweat, while I could feel beads of perspiration trickling down my back. His expression grew childishly gleeful when I stumbled. A moment later, I was down on my knees.
I raised the katana and blocked the fatal blow in time. Still, I felt a sharp sting across my shoulder; he had managed to cut me.
‘Give up,’ growled the immortal. He pressed down with his sword, teeth gleaming in the gloom as his lips parted in a feral snarl. ‘You know you’re going to die, half-breed!’
I saw Reid’s chest rise and fall shallowly out of the corner of my eyes, his breathing slow and irregular. A spasm of guilt and anguish racked my body, almost paralysing in its intensity. Tears rose in my eyes. Reid was going to die.
A wave of unrelenting rage surged through me at the thought of the immortals who had brought us to this. I frowned, my knuckles whitening on the handle of the katana. A grunt left my lips. I slowly rose to my feet.
I was unprepared for the ring of blackness that closed in around me. I shook my head dazedly and blinked in time to catch the glint of the blade.
The stranger’s sword entered my chest just beneath my right ribcage. My eyes widened in dull incomprehension. I looked down slowly and saw the metal embedded in my flesh. The immortal took a deliberate step forward. I gasped and stiffened as scalding pain tore through my body: the sword had gone right through my chest and out of my back. A gush of frothy blood rose in my throat and spilled past my lips, choking my breath.
The stranger smiled wildly, raised a booted foot to my thigh and pulled the sword out.
The blade left my body with a sickening wet noise. I stood frozen for a moment, before falling to my knees once more.
The immortal grabbed my bowed head and leaned down, his lips stopping inches from my ear. ‘And now,’ he hissed, spit flying from his mouth and striking my bloodied cheek, ‘in these final seconds of your long and abominable life, I shall tell you the name of the man who killed your parents and who is about to end your loathsome existence.’ A crazed grin washed across the stranger’s face; it flickered distortedly as a veil of darkness clouded my vision. ‘Tell your mother and father that Felix Thorne says hi!’
Moonlight shone on the edge of his sword as he raised it high above his head. I stared past him
at the star-filled heavens, a strange sense of calm and acceptance washing over me as I faced my inevitable fate. Though I was grief-stricken at having led Reid to an untimely death and for having been the cause of so many others dying, I knew I had done my utmost to protect the ones that I cherished.
My one remaining regret on leaving this world was not having had the chance to get to know Anna Godard.
The blade pierced my heart in a single savage blow. My vision dimmed. The pain and coldness that shrouded me faded. As the last breath left my lips and my body thudded to the forest floor, an image of my parents rose before my open eyes.
PART TWO: RESURRECTION
Chapter Thirteen
For a long and immeasurable length of time, there was only darkness and a sense of absolute weightlessness. I drifted through a seemingly endless space, unaware and nonexistent. At some undefined moment during my everlasting sleep, I became conscious of an all encompassing presence that seemed to float around me, cocooning me in warmth. An overpowering feeling of peace washed over me and I found myself crying. Except that I was no longer an “I” and I had no body to cry with.
Was this Heaven, or was this Hell? Or yet still, was this the anteroom where my final fate awaited me even now?
Then, rather unexpectedly, came the voices. They were faint but insistent, like echoes in a vast and watery tunnel. Muted words drifted tantalisingly in and out of earshot. Someone spoke quietly in Czech. Slowly but steadily, I started to perceive my own consciousness. It was dim and ill defined, but nevertheless there. After waxing and waning for an eternity, it faded once more. I sank back into the dark oblivion and felt a strange sense of loss.
Something soft and warm glided over my face. I opened my eyes.
A sea of green hovered above me. I blinked and became aware of the tears that clouded my vision. The greenness resolved into a pair of pale, olive-coloured irises, flecked with a thousand gold and brown specks. They were framed by thick lashes and long, luxuriant chestnut curls.
‘Hi,’ said Anna softly. She sat back slightly, the sun cross pendant glinting at the base of her throat.
‘Green,’ I mumbled, the word spilling out before I could stop it.
A faint frown marred her brow. ‘What?’ she murmured in a puzzled tone.
‘Your eyes. They’re green,’ I repeated slowly. My voice sounded weak and raspy even to my own ears.
Her lips curved into a wry smile. A pair of dimples appeared in her cheeks. ‘Yes. They are,’ she acknowledged with a chuckle.
The sound of her laughter stabbed through my chest. Then, coldness gripped me as my memory returned. I stiffened and stared at her. ‘I died,’ I stated bluntly.
Anna’s expression sobered. She nodded silently.
Another image rose in my mind. ‘Reid!’ I tried to sit up and gasped when pain tore dozens of fiery trails across my body. There wasn’t an inch of me that did not seem to be hurting.
‘Don’t! You might reopen your wounds,’ said Anna, pushing me gently back onto the bed I lay upon. A tired smile crossed her face at my stricken expression. ‘Reid is fine. He’s resting in the next room,’ she added.
A wave of unspeakable relief washed over me at her words. Reid was alive. As was I, incredibly enough. But how? A myriad of questions clouded my mind. I glanced around and asked the most immediate one. ‘Where are we?’
Sunlight streamed through a pair of gauzy white curtains framing a tall window to the left. It illuminated the faded wallpaper that covered the walls of a bedroom and sparkled off the crystal chandelier hanging from the middle of a high, elaborately corniced ceiling. Cobwebs populated the distant corners of the room. The furniture was sparse and utilitarian; whatever there was of it looked antique Bohemian, old but in good condition.
‘We’re in a safe house outside Prague,’ said Anna. She poured some water from a carafe on a bedside table, lifted my head carefully off the pillow and brought the glass to my lips. I sipped, then gulped the cold liquid down quickly, suddenly aware of my thirst. ‘Not so fast,’ she said firmly and took the glass away.
I settled down in the bed and stared blindly at the ceiling. My thoughts were clearing. A single question now occupied my mind, far ahead of the queue of others. ‘That was my seventeenth death.’ My gaze switched to Anna. She glanced away, looking as confused as I felt. Silence fell across the room. ‘What happened?’ I said finally.
Anna rose from the bed and walked restlessly to the window. I gazed at her profile and the elegant lines of her neck while she spoke, her hands twisting fitfully together. ‘When grandfather and I realised that the Crovirs had found us, we started the fire in the house outside Vilanec and escaped through the underground passage in the cellar,’ she said quietly. ‘It took us to the woods on the other side of the hill.’ She paused and looked at me. ‘We heard the explosions and the gunshots. We suspected Victor had returned with Reid and you, and that you had engaged in a fight with the Crovirs. We came to look for you afterwards.’
I frowned, then winced. Even my face hurt. ‘What of Victor and the others?’
‘They all made it,’ said Anna, ‘but not without some injuries.’ She turned then and stared me straight in the eye, her gaze unflinching. ‘When we found the two of you, Reid was almost dead. You had no detectable pulse.’ A frown marred her brow again. ‘By the time Bruno returned with a car, you were breathing again.’ She hesitated. ‘This is a stupid question, but you’re absolutely positive that was your seventeenth death?’
‘Yes,’ I said flatly.
Footsteps sounded outside the room. The door opened and Victor Dvorsky appeared. His eyes widened when he saw me and he stopped in his tracks. ‘So, you’re finally awake,’ he said evenly. There was a fresh dressing on his forehead and a bandage around his hand. He favoured his right leg slightly.
‘How long have I been out?’ I glanced from him to Anna and tried to sit up again. This time, I was successful. I swung my legs off the bed and leaned heavily on the edge of the mattress when a wave of dizziness hit me. That was when I saw the bandages encircling my chest and flanks.
‘Two days,’ Anna replied. ‘You lost a lot of blood.’ I reached for the glass of water with a shaky hand and grimaced when the movement pulled on strained and damaged muscles.
Victor leaned against the doorjamb and watched me closely. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’ve been better,’ I said blithely, trying not to show my anxiety at Anna’s words. Considering the events of the last week, two days was a long time to lose. ‘Although, technically, I shouldn’t even be here,’ I added.
‘True,’ said Victor guardedly.
A figure loomed in the doorway behind him. It was Reid. His left arm was in a sling and I could see the outline of dressings beneath his shirt. A faint grin tugged at my lips when I observed the cigarette clamped firmly at the corner of his mouth. He looked pale but otherwise seemed to be his normal self. ‘I heard voices,’ he said with a grunt.
Anna’s eyes narrowed when she saw the cigarette. She strode briskly across the room and snatched the roll from his lips. ‘I removed a bullet from your chest barely forty-eight hours ago. The least you could do is not smoke,’ she said sharply.
Reid looked down at her without a trace of remorse on his face. ‘You do realise this will only delay my recovery, don’t you?’ he said glumly.
Anna’s frown deepened. ‘How, exactly?’ she said skeptically.
‘By not letting me smoke, you’re causing me undue stress. I’m sure I read somewhere that stress slows down wound healing,’ said Reid.
Anna rolled her eyes and opened her mouth for what was likely going to be a scathing riposte when movement next to Reid interrupted her. ‘What’s going on?’ said the figure that came into view.
It was Tomas Godard. Although the old man looked like he had recovered from his wounds, he seemed to have aged even more since I last saw him.
‘Your granddaughter’s infringing on my rights,’ Reid explained blandly.
> ‘She’s your doctor. You should listen to her,’ Godard retorted with a distracted expression, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘Besides, you owe her your life. She gave you her blood.’
Reid’s eyes widened. He stared at Anna. ‘You did?’ She nodded, her cheeks colouring. ‘Oh.’ Reid looked fairly stunned.
Anna brushed a hand through her hair and squared her shoulders determinedly. ‘Right,’ she said in a tone that bade no argument. ‘All of you, leave, now. He needs to rest.’ She shooed the three men out of the room and paused on the threshold. ‘There’s a bathroom across the corridor. The clothes in the wardrobe should fit you.’ Her eyes softened. ‘Come down when you’re ready,’ she added gently and closed the door behind her.
The light outside was fading when I finally made my way to the head of a grand staircase. Already, I could feel strength flowing back into my limbs.
The safe house was a manor. From what I had glimpsed through the window of my room, it stood on a deserted estate. I paused on the landing and studied the paintings that lined the walls of the entrance hall. It was a deliberate distraction: my mind was not quite ready to deal with the overwhelming subject of having survived my seventeenth death.
Something about the pictures piqued my curiosity. They were all portraits, each depicting an austere noble dressed in fashions that spanned centuries, dating as far back as the early Renaissance period. Their eyes looked vaguely familiar.
I crossed a foyer at the bottom of the stairs and paused. Voices rose from a dim corridor to my left. I followed the sounds to a large kitchen at the back of the house.
There was a lull in the conversation when I paused in the doorway.
Reid, Victor Dvorsky and the Godards sat at an old, scarred walnut table that dominated an extensive flagstone floor. A fire crackled briskly in the hearth behind them, filling the room with the woody smell of burning logs and washing its white walls with a golden light. Reid silently drew out the chair next to him.