by Lili Zander
I clasp his hand. He’s putting his life on the line for us. No, not for us. For Nero. The Merin Underground is mostly disbanded, and all the revolutionaries have jobs and families now, but they remember what Nero did, and they respect and love him for it. “Thank you.”
He nods. Two knives appear in his hands. Serrated dicar blades, seven inches long, two inches wide, an eighth of an inch thick. These are weapons designed to kill, and Riljor holds them in a way that suggests long familiarity with them.
Maybe he’ll make it out alive.
He whirls away toward the front entrance. The entire conversation lasts a fraction of a second. I look around. Tomas Cabal is pushing Ivar Karling up the ramp. Good idea. The spaceship has one entrance. Defend the ramp, cut down the attackers, and wait for backup. “Come on,” I tell Raven urgently. “To the ship.”
She’s halfway up the ramp when Marya sprints out of the haze, her sword slicing through the air, mere inches from my face. I jump backward and fling a pair of dicar blades in her direction. Unlike Riljor’s knives, these are designed to be thrown. Their center of gravity is at the center of the knife, and when I hurl it, the blade has a predictable trajectory in flight.
They bounce off her armor. Damn it.
It’s been many years since I’ve seen her, but when we were together, Marya trained with me. She thinks she knows my fighting style. She drops to the floor and rolls, moving closer to us.
“Give me your sword.”
Raven thrusts it into my hand.
The smoke is clearing. Bodies sprawl on the floor. Friend or foe? I can’t spare a glance to check. Fights rage all through the large open building, but I need to narrow my focus. Marya needs to go through me to get to Raven. One second of distraction and the woman I love will be in mortal danger.
Marya’s weapon has a long straight blade, best suited in combat in an open battlefield. It’s not the best sword for a close-quarter fight. A tactical mistake. Unsurprising, really. She might be known as the Dagger of the Shayde, but that has more to do with the trail of blood and carnage she leaves in her wake than her actual sword skills. Marya prefers guns.
She’s closed the distance between us. I swing the Old Earth scimitar at her in an underhand stroke designed to tear her from hip to shoulder. She brings her blade down to block the stroke. Her gaze falls on my weapon, and her eyes narrow. “Is that…?”
I thrust my scimitar at her neck. She dodges and staggers backward, and I go on the offense, rushing her. If she succeeds in beating me, she will take Raven to Harek Levitan, who will cage her, torture her, and then, once he gets what he needs from her blood, kill her.
Marya’s fighting because those are her orders. I’m fighting to protect the woman I love. The assassin might have superior numbers on her side, but she doesn’t have what I have. She’s not battling for something greater than herself.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” Baring my teeth into a savage grin, I launch myself into the air and bring my blade down. Had the stroke landed, it would have sliced her from head to toe. Just in time, Marya brings her blade up and blocks me. She jumps backward, somersaulting through the air and landing on her feet. I keep coming, moving down the ramp, taking the fight away from Raven. Swing. Dodge. Swing. Block.
Raven’s still frozen on the ramp. Damn it. Where the fuck is Cabal and why isn’t he pulling her to safety?
Marya puts distance between us. I notice the throwing knife in her left hand too late. I have a split second to react. I can’t duck. Raven’s standing behind me. If I step aside, the knife will cut into her. I’m a vampire. I’ll heal. She won’t.
Acting on pure instinct, I grab the knife out of midair. The blade bites into my palm and blood swells from the cut. Marya’s eyes widen. “How?”
“Ever give a shit about someone other than yourself?” I throw the knife aside and wipe the cut on my thigh. “That’s how.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls. “Always so fucking pure. You’re like the antique sword you like to use, Saber. A relic of the past. The world is changing. Power is being redistributed, and you’re too hidebound to see it.”
The Marya I knew was damaged but not evil. What has Levitan done to her? “So you condone genocide now? That’s a new low, even for you.”
She sucks in a breath. “Harek wants the girl. You can’t hope to protect her against the General.” She launches into an offensive, driving me backward. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Each stroke is precise and perfect, and it’s everything I can do to parry.
Fuck, she’s fast. Faster than any bitten human I’ve ever met. She must be absolutely chock full of vampire blood, and she’s using it well. She sees my surprise and smirks. “I leveled up, Saber. Did you?”
She’s moved too close. Stupid. She’s out of balance from her lunge, and I seize the moment. I grab her right wrist with my left hand and slash, the stroke designed to take her head off.
Her left hand smashes into my wrist, knocking the killing blow away. She kicks out with her left leg, putting her entire weight into the kick, smashing into my jaw.
We both stumble backward. She wipes the sweat off her eyes with her forearm, then her eyes widen. “No,” she shouts. “We need her alive, you fool.”
I pivot too late to see a knife fly toward Raven.
I run. It feels like I’m moving through an Oensi tank. Not fast enough. The sunlight glints off the dicar blade as it hurtles toward Raven at the speed of death.
Then Nero’s there. The blade slices into his shoulder. Ignoring it, he reaches Raven and pushes her back into the ship. I have no time to thank him because Marya launches herself at me again, her sword twisting through the air.
I’m done playing nice.
Slice. Strike. Parry. Punch. We dance, back and forth, over the concrete floor of the spaceport. Battles rage all around us. I advance, determined to end this. To end her. “Yes,” I reply, answering the question she asked me. “I will protect her from Harek Levitan.”
She ducks, narrowly avoiding the swing that would have taken her head off. We’re both bleeding in half a dozen places now. Armor can only protect her so much. “The way you protected me? By pretending her past doesn’t exist? By wrapping her in a cocoon?”
We trade a volley of strokes. She’s fast, but I’m faster. I outweigh her by nearly a hundred pounds. Cold, crystalline rage has hardened inside me. That blade would have killed Raven. Every single one of the attackers will die today.
“She’s here.” I aim a roundhouse kick at her head. She tries to dodge, but the edge of my heel catches her ear. She goes flying across the room and lands against the wall. The impact makes me wince. It would knock anyone else out for good, but Marya’s back on her feet in seconds. “She carries the Daggers of Xerxes. Draw your own conclusions.”
Whistling blades collide. Steel flashes against dicar. She’s tiring. She’s lost some of her speed. The collision has slowed her down, and she wouldn’t be the assassin she was if she didn’t know it.
She won’t win today.
Marya pulls a knife out of its sheath. The blade is wickedly serrated. “You used to be in love with me. Could you kill me, Saber?”
Blood drips into my eyes from a cut on my temple. I shake my head to clear my vision. “I can and I will.” I bring the sword up in a death stroke. “I will do anything to protect Raven.”
The Dagger of the Shayde sees her death rush toward her.
She drops the sword. It catches me by surprise. Is she surrendering? No. She reaches into a pouch on her toolbelt and flings a powder into my face.
Anthurium.
Damn it.
I crash to the floor. Is it my imagination, or is the ground vibrating? A moment passes, and then another, and the vibration becomes the sound of dozens of people running toward the spaceport, not in a mad dash, but in a controlled assault formation. Reinforcements.
Marya hears them too. She’s making the same calculation I am. She might be able to grab Raven, but she’s not going to be able to
walk out of here.
Her expression contorts in a snarl of pure fury. “This isn’t over,” she says. Then she pivots on her heel, and she’s gone.
21
Raven
Wherever I look, there’s carnage.
Saber is bleeding from a dozen cuts. Zeke is cradling his arm and has a gash down his forehead. Nero’s shoulder is a bloody mess. Amara, who to my shock stayed and fought shoulder to shoulder with the other vampires, is on the floor clutching her right thigh.
The attackers have fared worse. Bodies are scattered on the floor, more than a half dozen of them. Blood pools on the concrete. So many people died today. All so Levitan could get his hands on me.
And instead of fighting, I’d cowered inside the spaceship along with Ivar Karling while my vampires put their lives on the line for me.
I shake my head to clear the fog of hopelessness that lurks in the periphery, waiting to overwhelm me. “Are you okay?”
“These are just flesh wounds,” Saber says, dismissing his injuries with a shrug. “Nero? Zeke?”
“Nothing major for me,” Zeke replies.
We turn to look at Nero. He jumped in front of a knife meant for me. Of the three of us, he’s most seriously wounded.
Unsurprisingly—this is Nero, after all—he waves away our concern. “It’s just a shoulder wound. It’ll heal soon enough. A week, max.”
Thank the Great Spirit. A week for a vampire is not an insignificant wound, but it could have been so much worse. I flashback to the fight. This morning, I was ecstatic that I was getting comfortable holding the sword. Seeing the fight between Saber and Marya Revit… Saber’s ex-girlfriend moved faster than I thought possible.
It’s a chastening reminder of how far I have to go.
I’ve been in training for a week. At the rate I’m going, it’ll take me years of constant practice to be in the same league as Saber’s ex. When Marya comes for me again—and I’m sure that today’s not her last attempt—I’ll still be useless, incapable of defending myself.
I’m a huge liability. Over and over again, the vampires keep getting hurt because of me. What if one of them gets killed? Bile fills my mouth.
“Hey.” Zeke’s voice pulls me out of my pit of despair. His eyes search my face. “Remember what I told you? When I joined Saber’s team, I was useless. You’ll get there.”
“You’re right.”
My voice is flat. I don’t sound the slightest bit convincing. Zeke moves closer to me. “You won’t be a target much longer,” he whispers. “Dr. Karling is here. This is going to be over soon.”
Oh. In the tumult of the battle, I’d forgotten all about the scientist. A weight lifts from my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
The reinforcements are marching into the spaceport. One of them separates himself from the others and peels toward Nero. “The MSF is behind us,” he says. “You need to get out of here before they drag you in for questioning.”
Marcus Riljor pushes his way forward. The young vampire is deathly pale and sways on his feet. “I have skimmers waiting in the back.”
Zeke lifts his hand. “The spaceport’s security feed,” he says succinctly. “It recorded the fight. Right now, they’ve matched our faces to our fake identities. Soon, they’ll dig deeper.”
Tomas pulls out his screen. “The fake identities will hold up; I created them myself. I’ll erase the recording though. Just in case.”
“No,” Zeke says. “A missing recording will draw attention to us. Can you blur our faces instead? Make it look like an equipment malfunction.” He nods in the direction of the bodies. “If any of them are alive, I don’t want them freed because there’s no evidence to hold them.”
Tomas grins. “Nice. I like the way you think.” He fiddles with his screen as we pile into the waiting skimmers and head back to our safe house. “Done,” he announces by the time we pull up at the front.
Zeke looks impressed. “Is it that easy to hack into the feed?” I ask, eying Tomas curiously. I’m having trouble adjusting to seeing a somewhat familiar face in a very different context. The last time I saw him, Tomas was on Boarus 4, taking part in the Night of the Shayde. He was the Overlord’s chosen contestant, widely expected to win the tournament, a rich, Sector One bitten human who had grown up steeped in privilege.
There had been signs that it was a cover. Tomas had been there when Lula Kenner had liberated the re-education camps. He’d stood his ground as the guards poured out, and I saw him fight, competent and lethal.
And of course, he’d thrown the tournament, setting in motion a chain of events that had been designed to cause Overlord Zimmer to snap and betray Harek Levitan.
Even though I’ve known he’s Ragnar’s operative for more than a week, it still disconcerts me. I think I know why. When I lived on Boarus 4, my worldview had been simple. Vampires were the enemy. They were powerful, and they were to be obeyed, because to disobey them was death.
Tomas is human, and he’s working for Ragnar. Marya Revit is human, and she’s in league with Harek Levitan. I stood up a week ago, and I claimed Saber, Nero, and Zeke as my own. The galaxy isn’t black and white anymore. It’s so much more complicated than that.
“We were lucky the attack happened indoors,” Tomas replies. “The drone network is much harder to hack into, but because of privacy laws, the spaceport is monitored by private security.” His teeth flash in a grin. “Much easier to break in.”
We get out of the skimmers. A crowd of people waits inside the compound. Most of them are human. The only person I recognize is the male vampire who had been there to greet us on our arrival in Merin. Big, bulky and intimidating, Corvan Tofegaard is standing in the center of the courtyard, his legs shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed over his chest, a truly menacing scowl on his face. When we enter, he strides over to Nero. “I failed you,” he says bluntly. “I was in charge of protecting you, and I failed.”
Nero meets his gaze squarely. “I don’t want your guilt,” he says, his voice harsh. “I don’t want your penance. Find out how they were able to land on Merin without our knowledge. There’s a hole somewhere, Corvan. Plug it.”
“You trust me with this task.” Tofegaard sounds like he doesn’t believe his ears.
Nero sighs wearily, his hand pressed on his shoulder, blood seeping through the wound. “Corvan, I’ve trusted you all my life. I trusted you to protect us; that’s why we’re in Merin. I’m not going to stop now.”
The vampire stands taller. “I’ll find out how they got through,” he vows. Then he pivots on his heel and strides out.
The group of humans with Corvan were silent during the exchange. The moment Corvan leaves, however, one of them, a man with dark skin and curly hair rushes toward Marcus Riljor. “Show me,” he demands.
Marcus slumps to the ground. “I’ll be fine, Antonio,” he breathes. “Don’t fuss.” He lifts his hand from his abdomen. I can’t see the wound from where I am, but from the way Saber sucks in a breath, it’s not good.
The human goes white, then sinks next to Marcus, baring his neck for the vampire. “Drink.”
“I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”
“There are others, Marcus. Corvan rounded us up. There’s plenty of blood. Just drink.”
Marcus looks up at Saber. “You’ll pull me off if I can’t stop?” His breathing is shaky, but there’s a note of desperation in his voice. “I don’t want to put Antonio in danger.”
“I will,” Saber promises. He crouches next to the man and puts his hand on his shoulder. “You fought bravely and well, Marcus, but the battle is over. It’s time to heal now. Lower your fangs. I will make sure you don’t take too much blood from your partner.”
A man goes up to Amara and offers blood. Another man approaches me. “You’re the one who claimed Nero, aren’t you? What are you waiting for?”
I blink in confusion. The man huffs impatiently. “None of us can give him blood, not until he drinks from you first.”
The cloud of despair returns in a rush. I can’t fight. I can’t give them blood; if they drink from me, they will die. I keep putting them in danger, over and over again. No wonder Amara came on to Nero, Saber, and Zeke. She was smart enough to see something I’ve been in denial about. She’s a much better partner.
Nobody knows about the virus except my three vampires, Ivar Karling, and Tomas Cabal. Nobody knows that I’m a walking, talking weapon of biological destruction. Everyone is waiting for Nero to drink from me. If he does, he will die. If he doesn’t, he might still die from his injuries.
“On Raven’s planet, feedings are private affairs,” Saber intercedes, his voice cool and calm. “The four of us need to be alone. Please excuse us. We’ll be back outside as soon as we get the blood we need.”
Vials of blood from some unknown donor, because I can’t feed them. My feeling of inadequacy deepens, but I push it back down and follow them. My vampires are wounded. Now is not the time for me to whine about my hurt feelings.
Three hours later, things are slowly getting back to normal. Amara and Marcus have been fed. Both of them looked visibly better after a few pints of fresh human blood. They’re gone now, as are their donor humans.
Tomas and Zeke have both been searching for the missing boarium. The two of them are hunched over their screens, comparing notes. Ivar Karling is talking on his comm. Saber and Nero are sitting in front of the holo, glasses of slenti in their hands.
I enter the room, and they move aside on the couch, making room for me. “Want a drink?”
“Yes.” Saber starts to get up, and I stop him. He’s made light of his cuts, but I saw him naked earlier when he was cleaning them. More than a dozen wounds decorated his torso, biceps, and thighs, all courtesy Marya. The bitch. One day, I will make her pay for what she did today. “I’ll get it.”
Pouring myself a drink, I settle between the two of them. “What are you watching?”