Invincible (A Centennial City Novel)

by Fionn Jameson

  “Vincent’ll have your heads,” I managed to say with some modicum of dignity.

  Annabel exposed the long, pale length of her throat, running a fingernail down it as she pretended to observe the full moon. “Yeah, well, what he won’t know won’t hurt him, now would it?”

  Noir tried to pull free of her guards, but one of them kicked him in the back of his knees, forcing him back down. “So, this is how you planned on eliminating the Sanguinate? Take out his allies and then take him out as well? Tell me, my little vicious, betraying darling. Is he already dead?”

  For some inexplicable reason, she turned his dark gaze to me and for one terrifying moment, I thought she nodded.

  But she only smiled.

  What did that mean?

  “Not yet,” she said. “But who knows what will happen in half an hour? I’ve left him with someone who very much wanted to meet him.”

  My throat was dry, painfully dry. “Who?”

  She tapped her forehead with a long, elegant red fingernail. “Well, he’s always professed an interest in Sanguinates…especially since we killed the last one. Said something about how he never got the chance to study his own creation.”

  Noir tried once again to pull free but only succeeded in receiving a resounding cuff to the side of his head that would have felled a cow. “You stupid, silly bitch. You’re playing right into Matthias’s hands! Don’t you think this is what he wanted?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t care what he wants. Once I get rid of you and Vincent, I’ll be the one and only power to Centennial City. I am sick and tired of playing second fiddle to you buffoons. Do you think this constant pandering to the humans is good for our species?”

  “It’s the only way we can survive!”

  “Wrong!” she screamed and smacked a hand on the car roof. All of the windows blew out with a crash and a shard dug deep into my left cheek. “You think the humans are afraid of us? They think we’re some kind of joke, Noir! Well, no more. I’m not some kind of tourist attraction, you got that? I’m taking the fucking night back, do you understand me? The fucking sheep will learn to bow at our feet once again. Just like you and that human next to you.”

  Noir studiously avoided looking at me. Blood was beginning to trickle down my face again. Damn it. “So, what happens now?”

  She slithered off the hood, the moonlight casting a faint aura over her pale white skin. “Well, you die. Then she dies.”

  “And Vincent?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m sure the Fellow-thingie will take care of him well enough.”

  I choked on my own spit and sputtered, eyes watering. “You called the Fellowship on them?”

  Her eyes narrowed with malicious pride. “Oh, they loved it. Ate it up. Ate it up even more when I told them you were betraying them all along.”

  You were betraying them all along.

  In that instant, I didn’t want to kill anyone more.

  I would have given anything to feel her blood drip from my fingers.

  She clapped her hands. “Yes, yes! Look at me like that. Glare at me like you think you can do anything about me. God, I love it. I wish I could feed off hate. Fuck blood, give me hatred any damn day.”

  Marcus’s hand tightened on the back of my neck and I stopped breathing. One faint twinge of his fingers and I would breath no more.

  A frightening, sobering thought.

  Shit. I hated lose-lose situations like this.

  “Anyways, I’ve gotta go.” She waved a hand and proceeded over to a dark blue sports car parked a few meters away at the curb of the oddly quiet industrial parking lot. “Got a few vampire lords to overthrow. Have fun, hm?”

  Marcus’s body thrummed with nervous energy behind me. “What do you want to do with these two?”

  “I told you, kill them,” she said without a backwards glance and when she screeched out of the parking lot, I tasted dust, thick and heavy, in the back of my throat.

  Marcus sighed. “Jesus.”

  I shifted under his grip, to keep my knees from turning into hamburger meat on the rough gravel, but a single tightening of his forefinger and thumb stopped me from making any more zealous movements.

  “I, uh, wouldn’t move, if I were you,” he said. “I’m not exactly the most steady at the moment.”

  “Your eyes. They look better,” I said, my voice sounding even quieter in the silent night in which even the crickets declined to sing. “I was worried.”

  His laughter was husky. “Were you now?”

  “You are not my enemy. I have never considered you the enemy.”

  “Lady, you don’t even know me.”

  “And you don’t know me,” I said. “What kind of hold does Annabelle have over you? Didn’t you say that Vincent owned you?”

  He was silent for a moment. “You don’t know her. Vincent might own me, but he’ll at least leave a dead man’s body alone. She might be an idiot, but she’s a vindictive one. She’ll go after everyone I know. There are people I have to protect. If I tell her no, she’ll find a way to make me pay.” His breath seemed to hitch. “I’ve got a son. In second grade and I swear, he looks just like his mother. She threatened his safety. Knew the name of his teacher and his best friend. You have to understand, I would do anything to keep him alive.”

  Noir cleared his throat. “Including inciting a coup?”

  I wished I could see the expression on the werewolf’s face. “You don’t know her.”

  “Wrong,” replied Noir. Was that a pitying look on his face? “There is no one who knows her better than myself. She’s an idiot. A twit who doesn’t even know she’s being manipulated. And you’re playing right into her hands. Just as she’s playing into his.”

  His hand twitched and a sharp, sudden pain ran down my back.

  For one second, one breathlessly terrifying moment, I thought he’d broken my spine.

  I screamed. Long. Loud. My voice cracked in the night.

  “Jesus Christ!” Marcus let go of my neck in surprise and I fell on my hands, moisture pooling at the corners of my eyes.

  No. I was okay.

  I had used my arms.

  I was alive.

  Alive.

  I turned on my knees, the bi-su's abrasive handle cutting deeply into my palms.

  But not as deeply as it slashed across his Achilles tendon and brought him down to eye level.

  He had healed, but not well, the scars puckered underneath his eyes like something was trying to burst out from underneath his skin.

  Behind me, I heard thuds, the sound of a blade leaving its sheath, but all of that faded into little consequence when Marcus reared back, mouth open in a silent cry.

  A flailing arm caught me on the left side of my face and pain burst across my vision, bringing forth fireworks of black and white.

  “You have to die!” he howled, face raised to the moon. “My son is the only thing worth living for.”

  I didn’t want to.

  I did not want to kill.

  With his Achilles tendon severed and blood pooling over his shoes and into the gravel, he was hobbled, crippled. It seemed more than a possibility he would never be able to walk on his own power again.

  He howled again, the sound long and low, arms held up as though he thought he could reach out and embrace the moon.

  I realized what he was doing too late.

  Fur shone on his body and I watched in sick fascination as he fell on his hands and knees, the bones breaking and knitting underneath a skin stretched far too thin for it to stand the stress.

  Noir shouted. “Kill him! Kill him now before he turns!”

  I had no time to go for the sword; I turned the bi-su in my hand and stabbed downward, the point over the base of his neck.

  I worried the blade would simply connect with a bone and deflect into his neck.

  My worry was all for nothing because he swept his hand up and knocked the dagger out of my hand.

  The force wa
s enough to send reverberations through my body and I staggered back as my arms seemed to shake enough to be in grave danger of falling out of their sockets.

  "You have to die," he said.

  No.

  Growled.

  Werewolves were never my prey.

  So this was what it felt like to be faced by a seven foot tall humanoid being with claws long enough, sharp enough to eviscerate me.

  So this was what it felt like to be faced by a shifter whose eyes glowed red in the moonlight, whose body dripped some kind of strange fluid down the form that had gone completely furry.

  There was nothing that looked remotely familiar about the monster in front of me.

  There was nothing that looked remotely human about the monster in front of me.

  And there was no way I was going to fight the monster with a three inch throwing dagger.

  Well, fight and expect to live, in any case.

  But that didn't mean I couldn't give it, forgive me, a stab.

  And I did.

  Give it a stab, I mean.

  I scrabbled in the gravel for the dagger, knees digging deep, trying to gain the traction to cover the six feet that separated me and the thin but sturdy length of metal.

  A paw the size of a dinner plate stepped in front of me.

  I supposed I should have been gratefully it didn't step on me.

  Perhaps there was honor in wolves, after all.

  “Get up, worm.”

  At least, that's what I thought he said. It was hard to make out a single word when being uttered by a snout the length of my forearm, the serrated teeth glinting in the faint moonlight. Every one of the teeth looked more than capable of going straight through my arm and I slowly backed up, staring at the monster that loomed over me like the worst possible nightmare.

  “You think that potato peeler is going to help you?” he asked.

  It looked like he was smiling. It was hard to tell with all the teeth and hair getting in the way.

  I took a moment to stand up, keeping my eyes on his chest. I'd be able to see any blow he threw my way although how I could possibly counter any attack, I hadn't the slightest idea.

  “You're just a pawn,” I said. “How does it feel to be so manipulated? Is that how you want people to remember you?'

  There was no mistaking the raspy exhale-inhale for anything other than laughter. “How I want people to remember me? Are you implying I'll be dead soon?”

  I chanced a look behind me.

  It was a stupid, life-risking move, but I had to know the reason for the lack of sound. Had Noir won? Had the vampires won?

  And if Noir was dead, where did that leave me?

  Did I still owe an allegiance to the Fellowship?

  Although, if what Annabelle said was true, maybe they no longer wanted me. Maybe I was now persona non grata. That or someone on their Wanted list. I didn't know which was worse.

  And did I still owe Jason? If Noir, my original purpose, no longer existed, where did that leave the two of us?

  Questions laid thick and heavy in my mind and I couldn't not look.

  I had to know.

  But as it turned out, all of my questions were for naught.

  The parking lot was completely empty.

  “Where do you think you're looking?”

  Without thinking, I ducked.

  Instinct and training paid off.

  An inch or two higher and I would've lost the top of my head.

  Even so, I felt the wind from his passing claws ruffle my hair and with my heart in my throat, I tripped over my own feet, trying to put as much distance between myself and the werewolf.

  “If it's the bloodsuckers you were looking for, they made for the forest a long time ago,” he said. “Hah. Noir was running with his tail between his legs. Just like the bloodsucking coward I always knew he was.”

  Noir is the most frightening one of us all.

  Vincent's voice echoed in my mind.

  Why had that come to mind now? “I've heard otherwise.”

  I sounded almost normal. Well, that was something. Father would have been proud of me. Mother would have lamented.

  The smile was almost obscene and I would be lying if I didn't say it knocked my heartbeat up to the triple digits. “Oh?”

  It was getting hard to talk in a normal voice. “Someone once told me Noir is the one you need to look out for. That he's not the meek lamb everyone seems to think he is.”

  “And what do you think?”

  My head was still attached to my shoulders. That was a good start. “I think you should be glad I'm the one in front of you. Not him.”

  The hwan-geom was back at the car, fallen out of my hands as Marcus dragged me from the car.

  I needed it.

  I couldn't take on a seven foot beast with my bare hands.

  Unfortunately for me, I didn't have much of a choice. Not when the shifter reared back and then charged.

  At that point, the sword seemed kind of moot. Especially when he had the equivalent of ten, one for each of those claws that could turn me into raw meat, ready to be hurled on the grill.

  I waited until I could count the individual lashes on his eyes.

  Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.

  I hurled gravel into his face, fighting to buy time.

  He howled, those sharp claws trying to swipe at the grit in his eyes, and that was all the time I needed.

  I took advantage of the slippery, tiny rocks and ducked as the werewolf made a sudden swipe in my direction. I let the momentum carry me over the gravel and slid to the car, almost hitting my forehead on the back bumper as I slid, perhaps too well.

  But the sheath was in my hand, and that was half the battle, wasn't it?

  The hwan-geom made a beautiful sound as I pulled it free from the lacquered sheath and the blade glittered in the moonlight.

  Just like the werewolf's claws.

  The dark red eyes narrowed and a globule of saliva dripped off his muzzle. “That's a pretty sword, girl. Think you can use it?”

  I hefted the sword, the weight of it comforting and for some reason, calming.

  I always felt better with it in my hands.

  I wondered what it said about me.

  “Want to test me?”

  One blink of an eye and he was off the ground.

  I thought I had lost him.

  And once you lose an enemy, you might as well say goodbye to your life.

  But my vision grew dark for just an moment and I looked up, sword arching up over my head.

  It was enough to keep him from raking the face off my head.

  Barely. His left index finger, tipped by a five inch claw, raked down the right side of my face, missing my eye by just an inch.

  I slid backwards, but somehow, the sword kept him away.

  My face felt like it was on fire. But I had felt worse, and survived worse. “Paying me back?”

  His laughter made things worse. How could a human's breath smell like he'd been eating garbage for half a day? Or maybe it was just one of those things that came with having claws and fur. “Maybe? Maybe not. Either way, you're not going to be so pretty anymore.”

  And even though I felt Death's scythe resting softly on my neck, I managed a tight smile. This was what I lived for.

  The fight. The battle. “Then it's a good thing I wasn't very pretty to begin with.”

  With a low cry, I pushed up and out, enough to force Marcus off balance and giving myself enough breathing room to take the offensive.

  I couldn't remember the last time the sword felt so light in my hands, adrenaline pulsing through my body, giving me a beat to time my swings and thrusts.

  Marcus was not an alpha for nothing.

  With mind-boggling athleticism, he dodged every strike I threw his way, all the way laughing at me.

  “Maybe the sword is too much for you.”

  Despite the freezing air that made my breath white, sweat dripped down my spine.
“Hardly. Are you ready to stop playing?”

  The cut on my face burned incessantly, while my forehead throbbed from the beating I'd received back at the Sanctuary.

  A corpse would've looked better.

  You'd make a hell of a corpse.

  Pushing away that highly disconcerting thought out of my mind, I ducked and then felt a sting on my upper arm.

  It had been a paltry pain, something barely felt, but the werewolf stepped back.

  Surprising.

  I looked at my left arm, saw the blood dripping like rain off my fingers.

  Then it felt like fire had erupted inside my body.

  The pain was bad enough to bring me down to my knees, and for the second time in an hour, coarse gravel ground almost straight through to my bones.

  Marcus shook his head.

  “I don't understand it,” he said quietly, and I watched my blood drip from those claws that could slit my throat as easily as shredding a sheet of paper. “In layman terms, I've got you against the ropes. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you. Give me one good reason why I should spare you when my only child's life hangs by a thread.”

  My left arm was completely useless and it dangled like a discarded marionette by my side as I levered myself back up to a standing position, the sword shaking precariously as the blade took my entire weight.

  “I'm right handed,” I said.

  “I know,” he replied and shook his head. “You just don't give up.”

  “Can't. I made a promise.”

  Ah, but how bitter that sentence tasted on my tongue. I hated everything, hated the fact that I had ever taken the contract for Noir's death.

  The moment I met Jason, everything had changed.

  I did not like change.

  “Promises?” He laughed. “I thought promises werwe made to be broken.”

  I hurt everywhere. Even talking hurt. I felt like a giant, walking bruise. “Not me. I never break a promise.”

  “And you promised to keep that vampire of yours alive, didn't you?”

  There seemed no point in lying. “Yes.”

  He shook his head, almost mournfully, clucking under his breath. I hadn't known such a sound was possible with a snout, but it just goes to show that new things can be learned every day. “Your loyalty is to be commended. But this is the end of the line for you.”

  The ground swam in front of my eyes. “I understand. I'm sorry, Marcus.”