Shackles of Sunlight

by J. Daniel Layfield

  His sword clashed against hers, knocking it to the side, leaving her body undefended. He lowered his shoulder and rammed into her, sending her several meters through the air until she crashed against a column.

  Her breath came in hard, ragged gasps, and she strained to keep the blackness at the edge of her vision from spreading.

  Gotta move! she growled to herself. Get up! she told herself through gritted teeth. Cannot let him find you like this.

  She rolled over on her stomach, and pushed up with her good arm. A foot came from the shadows, swept her arm from under her and sent her head free-falling to the ground. Her chin slammed into the ground, cracking her teeth together, jarring her entire head, and filled her vision with bright, white stars.

  Lesson learned, she thought as she sat up on her knees and gently shook her head to clear it. She still wasn’t in any position to defend herself. She put her back against a column, and slowly pushed herself up. Her head still felt a little light, but her legs were steady. She spit out a thick trail of blood, wiped the excess from her chin, raised her sword, and waited for the next strike. It wasn’t until the pounding in her ears began to fade that she heard the footsteps.

  They weren’t very loud, but she assumed she was meant to hear them. They trailed haphazardly away from her, meandering back towards the other side of the room. She tightened her grip on the sword, rubbed her still throbbing jaw, and began cautiously following the trail.

  The sounds stopped almost immediately. He’s doubling back. She held her sword ready, so even though it was a surprise when Samuel reappeared only a moment later, she wasn’t caught off guard.

  She kept both hands firmly on the hilt of her sword as she crossed blades with Samuel. He was fast, keeping her on the defensive, but she didn’t allow him to push her backwards. She was just beginning to gain some confidence back, feeling like she might actually survive this, when her legs were knocked out from beneath her.

  She had been concentrating so intently on his sword, she never saw the sweep coming. Her legs flew up over her head, and Samuel cut a slash across the back of both calves before she crashed flat on her back.

  So much for steady legs, she thought as a deep pulsing pain radiated out from the wounds. Samuel had disappeared again. A hard cough brought back the familiar taste of her own blood, and she wondered just how long she would have survived if he was actually trying to kill her. At least the cut on her arm was healing, she thought with a shrug, though it wasn’t going to matter much if she couldn’t stand on her feet.

  She made it onto her knees again, and slowly stood. The dull throb in her legs rose to a roar, but they were holding. She took a deep breath and began moving. The first couple of steps were shaky, uncertain, but she quickly regained trust in her legs when they didn’t send her tumbling to the ground. The pain was there, but she could feel it lessening already.

  She passed several columns unassaulted, and refused to be distracted by the dancing shadows on the ground. Instead she kept her eyes forward and her sword readied. She was nearly back on the other side of the room when he attacked her again.

  Her sword blocked his swing almost of its own accord, and she saw his otherwise empty eyes register a hint of surprise. It quickly changed to a fiery anger when she pushed forward and managed to open a deep gash across his arm.

  She did it! She actually cut him! Her excitement was cut short when Samuel pushed her sword away, and followed it with a kick. She was watching his legs this time and moved beyond their reach. Wounded arm at his side, Samuel stepped forward, and again Liz found herself struggling to block the barrage of strikes.

  Struggle or not though, she was blocking them. She even managed to throw in her own attack or two, which seemed to anger Samuel even more. Her mistake was not realizing just how quickly a vampire can heal.

  Her arms went up, blocking an overhead chop aimed for her skull, and that’s when she felt the sharp stab in her stomach. She looked down and stared a moment, not comprehending what she saw. It was Samuel’s wounded arm, the same one that had been hanging lifeless at his side. Only now it was extended and his hand gripped tightly to the hilt of a knife, the blade buried in her body. She had been shot, and even cut, making her no stranger to the sensation of metal tearing flesh, but stabbed was an entirely new sensation. It was surpassed only by the next new feeling, the blade being removed.

  Her mouth open and closed, no sound escaping other than her surprised gasps for air. She couldn’t look at it, couldn’t watch the blood-covered knife materialize from her stomach. She looked up at Samuel’s face, and found herself looking straight into his eyes. The anger was quenched now, replaced with what looked like joy. He was enjoying this. His face was still covered, but there was no denying he was wearing a smile underneath.

  Unable to look at him any longer either, Liz stumbled backwards, coming to rest against one of the columns. She pressed her hand against the wound, another sharp inhale at the explosion of pain in her belly. There was blood everywhere, spreading across her abdomen, and even spilling down her legs. So much blood. How much could she lose before she lost consciousness? If that happened she had no doubt she would simply bleed out and die here on the floor. She pressed harder.

  Samuel disappeared again, and as she gained control over the pain, and the pounding in her ears, she listened for him. That was when she heard the laughter. It wasn’t Samuel, she was almost certain. She wasn’t even sure Samuel could laugh. No, she knew exactly where it was coming from, and she thought it might just be time to finally take care of that one loose end.

  “He is kicking your ass!” the vampire taunted as soon as he saw Liz shuffle into view. “Not so tough now, are you?” he added, catching sight of her wound. “And when he’s done playing with you, he’s got a whole world of hurt in store for your master.”

  Liz pulled one of her pistols and suggested, “Why don’t you keep the one hole you have any control over closed, before I put a bullet in it.”

  The vampire’s eyes widened and his smile quickly faded. He looked back and forth between the barrel and her eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “Please, don’t.” He was a killer, ready to end her life without a second thought, just as he’d ended countless others over she had no idea how many years. Still, she paused. He was pitiful, a beast trapped and stripped of his power. As his taunts echoed in her mind, she realized he was also right. Samuel was toying with her, wasting time until his own ‘main event’.

  “He doesn’t know,” she said to herself. “Samuel doesn’t know.” She was doing this all wrong. She had let herself get drawn into his game, let him stalk her, even as he let her believe she was the hunter. There was a better way. She turned to what appeared to be an empty room. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Braughton’s not here,” she called out. “He left to stop Malock, and while you drag this out, he’s getting farther and farther away.”

  “Um, what are you doing?” the vampire behind her asked.

  “Baiting the hook,” she mumbled, though she didn’t even turn to acknowledge the question. There was no answer from the room, so she continued. “But you’re stuck here. Commanded by your master to ‘deal with me’, but not kill me. I wonder what he’ll do when Braughton finds him?”

  She paused, but the room remained still.

  “I can think of a few possible outcomes,” she offered. “The best possible one for you would be that Braughton kills Malock. I mean, any other way, and Braughton’s going to be the one that winds up dead. Then what will you do with all those plans of revenge you’ve been making for the last few centuries?” Still nothing. “Too bad you’re stuck here with me playing babysitter.” She was out of ideas. If that didn’t draw him out, she had no idea what would.

  “Ho-ly shit. You must have some kind of death wish.”

  “Holy shit,” she repeated as she turned back to the wall-bound vampire. “I like the sound of that. I think that’s what I’ll call you.” She pointed her pistol at h
im again. “Hey, Holy Shit, here come some more holes.” Three gunshots heralded the appearance of three more holes in the vampire, who simply slumped his head, defeated.

  Liz holstered the pistol and drew her sword. Why hadn’t she ended his existence already? She only took two steps before stopping and lowering her sword. She knew the answer. An emotion – pity. A human emotion, and one she was glad to find she still possessed. Anything that made her feel more human was a welcome feeling. She wondered if the vampires still felt such things. Did Braughton?

  The question was forgotten when she turned and nearly crashed into Samuel. The hatred in his eyes was easy to see, and would have at least partially answered her question, but it would be a long time before her frantic brain could focus on anything besides panic.

  Her plan had worked, but now she wasn’t sure it was such a good plan in the first place. She tried to raise her sword, but Samuel’s hand covered hers, keeping it firmly in place. He stepped closer, the distance between them mere inches, but he felt even closer. She considered letting go of the wound in her stomach to reach for her pistol, but there was no point. She could see it in his face (what wasn’t covered), and feel it in the tension of his body. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he was ready for it.

  You’re just going to hurt yourself.

  She could read the thought in his … wait. Did he speak? That can’t be right, yet she was sure she had heard a voice. His voice.

  It’s not your fault, really.

  There it was again. His voice. In her head.

  You trusted him. Just as I trusted him so many years ago.

  Her eyes grew wide as she looked into his. The hate was gone, replaced with an empty, black nothingness. She could feel their pull, urging her to listen, to obey.

  And now he’s left you all alone, just as he did me.

  She couldn’t think when he spoke. His voice, broadcast in her mind, drowned out and pushed aside her own thoughts.

  I know what you’re trying to do. His hand cradled the side of her face, and she couldn’t pull away. But it won’t work. Master promised I would get my revenge against Braughton, and my master has always kept his promises, even when I begged him not to. She tried to turn her head, to pull her eyes away from his, but he simply tightened his grip on her face, and a tear streaked down her cheek.

  Since you seem so eager to discover your master’s fate, I think we should just go see for ourselves. Together. But first. His other hand reached up and loosed the mask from his face, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth. You need to change.

  One hand pulled her head to the side while the other pushed down on her shoulder, exposing the flesh of her neck. He slowly lowered his mouth down to her neck, savoring the feeling, and Liz could still hear his thoughts. This would be his first act of torture against Braughton, turning his beloved slave into a true vampire, breaking the bond between them. He wondered if Braughton would be able to feel it happen to her, and he hoped there would still be pain and fear in Braughton’s eyes when he saw her with her new master.

  There were other, darker, thoughts that followed, but when his eyes released hers, she was able to push them aside. She had only one thought then, and she acted on it before Samuel realized his mistake.

  Her sword hand, now free from Samuel’s grip, tightened and plunged the blade deep into Samuel’s chest. His head shot up, eyes searching for hers, but they were full of confusion, and held no power over her now. She looked deep into them and pushed up on the blade, driving it towards his eyes.

  It didn’t travel far before Samuel’s hands wrapped around the blade and pushed against Liz, stopping its progress. Ignoring the pain in her stomach, she put her other hand on the hilt and pushed up with all her strength. The blade didn’t budge, and Liz didn’t see Samuel’s hand flying towards her head until it was too late.

  She tumbled sideways under the force of the blow, her hands releasing their grip on the sword. Liz rolled once, twice, and on the third she came up with the only weapons she had left. Pistols in both hands, she let loose a hailstorm of bullets against Samuel, who was working on removing the sword from his chest.

  The bullets struck all parts of his body – legs, arms, chest, and even head. Liz pulled the triggers until the last echoing gunshot was replaced with the dry click of a spent clip. Samuel stood still, arms at his side, head bowed, unmoved from the spot where Liz had stabbed him.

  Keep shooting! her mind screamed.

  Why bother? another part argued.

  It had a point. The multitude of tiny spikes seemed to have no effect on Samuel. Perhaps hearing her thoughts, Samuel raised his head and flashed his toothy smile at her. The sword forgotten for the moment, replaced with thoughts of revenge, he moved towards her.

  His foot froze in mid-step. The malice filled grin on his face faltered as he strained to move. He looked down and noticed his other foot beginning now to slide backwards. He looked back at Liz, who raised a hand, gave a small wave, and mouthed the word ‘bye’. He answered with a roar, reaching an arm out towards her, but it was being dragged backwards now as well. His heels skidded across the floor for a few feet before his entire body was lifted and pulled towards the wall. He smashed through several columns before finally crashing against the wall. The impact was hard enough to create a spiderweb of cracks around his body, and ejected the sword from his chest.

  She had to get up, had to finish the job. The bullets weren’t fatal, and Samuel would be all too willing to remind her of that if she gave him the chance. She holstered the empty guns, then pushed herself up to her feet. Fresh blood spilled from her stomach, and she pressed a hand against it as she shuffled towards Samuel.

  Her eyes remained fixed on him, watching for any sort of movement, any sign of consciousness. She would have to act quickly if he started struggling against the stakes. As she drew closer, she noticed she had another problem: how to reach his neck. He was suspended at least a foot off the ground.

  Now where did I put that footstool, she wondered idly as she knelt down in front of Samuel to recover her sword. She wasn’t even sure which wall Braughton had been bound to anymore. Convinced she had seen no signs of life from Samuel, Liz turned and scanned the wall behind her.

  There. She spotted the restraints hanging from the wall, and below them was the stool, right where she had left it. Her relief was quickly eclipsed by a rising growl. She swung her head back around, wondering if she would have enough time to reach the stool, but she barely had time to even see the attack.

  The growl became a roar as Samuel launched himself from the wall. Chunks of his flesh were left behind, staked to the wall, leaving gaping holes over his entire body. Directly in the path of his outstretched arms, and the object of his rage, Liz’s first thought was ‘swiss cheese vampire’. She might have laughed, but if she opened her mouth she knew a scream would be the most likely sound to exit first. Instead, she did the only thing she could: she raised the sword, tucked her head, and rolled to the side, turning herself into a sort of buzzsaw.

  His arms missed her, and his body crashed against the floor, but she felt her sword definitely cut something. She just hoped it was enough to slow him down. She uncurled herself, turned, and nearly screamed when she saw Samuel staring up at her with bared teeth. She scrambled for her sword, knowing she was too late to defend herself, and expecting the sharp pinch of teeth against skin at any moment. But it never came.

  Sword in hand, she turned to face him, and realized why. His body lay on the ground right where she had been, arms still reaching for her. Samuel’s head, however, still glared up at her with nearly two feet of floor separating it from his body. She reached out with her sword and gave his head a flick, sending it rolling farther across the room. Better safe than sorry, she thought with a shrug.

  She lowered her sword, shuffled towards the wall, and slumped down, resting against it for a moment. The blood from her stab wound had finally stopped, and the pain was a deep thr
ob she could feel over her entire body, but she was alive. It was more than could be said for everyone else in the room. She raised her head and spotted movement across from her. Well, almost everyone.

  “Holy Shit, did you see the way he just popped off that wall?” she asked as she drew closer to the struggling vampire. “I mean, with all the trouble you’ve had over here, I really didn’t expect that.”

  Streaks of blood covered the wall around him, but he was still no closer to being free than when she had last seen him. He didn’t bother to look up at her, choosing instead to continue tugging against the stakes. Liz stopped in front of him for a moment, just watching. She flexed her hand on the hilt of her sword a few times, and even swung it through the air once or twice before sighing to herself. She slowly put the sword away and drew a pistol. She needed him alive.

  When he noticed the gun in her hand, the vampire paused and looked up. Good. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. She pointed the barrel at him and asked, “Where’s Malock?”

  He stared at the gun as he answered, “How am I supposed to know?”

  She pulled back the hammer, hiding her smile at seeing him flinch. “I don’t have time for this.” She stepped forward and pushed the barrel into the side of the vampire’s head. “Tell me where he is.”

  “I already told you, I don’t know!” he screamed. Sweat streamed down his face and his eyes strained to the side, trying to see the gun.

  “Well, maybe you can tell me this: what happens if I pull this trigger? Will the back of your head get pinned to the wall, or will it spin your head like this?” She pushed against the side of his head with the barrel until the opposite side touched the wall.