Beneath the Night

by Jen Colly

  “We won’t be pushed back,” Navarre said coldly.

  “Then we bring justice,” she said, leading him through the tunnel and to the high justice entrance.

  They slowed when they neared the tunnel door to the arena, and Cat shifted the grip on her sword and said in low whisper, “Navarre, I may kill your friend.”

  “I may let you,” he said honestly. “But I need to know what’s happening here. Dead men don’t answer.”

  “No promises.” Her dark voice shifted on the last word, floated through the empty air as she vanished from the tunnel.

  Then from the other side of the door Navarre heard a man cry out in pain, the shout quickly silenced. Cat had left him out of the fight and on the wrong side of the door. Again.

  * * * *

  Cat opened the door to let Navarre inside, then stepped over the demon she’d skewered. She’d come back for its head later. Right now her focus was on Dulcina. In the center of the arena, Vidor held Dulcina, pressing a knife against her throat as he turned to face them. Two men flanked Vidor, their eyes not consistently red, but flickering. Demons.

  The arena floor was large, and Vidor had spread out his men, unable to predict where she would enter, how she would react. Eight total demons, and six were headed straight for her and Navarre.

  Vidor had brought this fight to the arena? Wrong move. Battling on this sand was like breathing to her. Second nature. Effortless.

  Navarre moved to the other side of the downed man, quickly taking note of what they were up against. She could take out all eight demons, but not if she was distracted. “Navarre, you need to go.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” The finality in his words brought her eyes to his. Navarre wasn’t going anywhere. “And I will not leave Dulcina.”

  Cat lifted her arm to the side, releasing her sword lightly so it practically floated in the air. He caught it.

  “Keep it.” Eyes on the nearing demons, she slipped two throwing knives from her belt. “He made this personal.”

  “Cat,” Navarre cautioned. “If Vidor is your father—”

  “He put a knife to my girl’s throat. He’s not leaving here alive.” She stalked toward the demons and purposefully lost track of Navarre, narrowing her focus to her own fight.

  Navarre might very well be injured or die before she could get back to him. It was a reality she had to accept, because, bottom line? If she couldn’t get past these demons, she couldn’t save Dulcina.

  Cat charged toward the demons, and at the last moment slid feetfirst in the sand, slipping between them. Now at their backs, she rolled, then surged to her knees. They turned just in time for her to let her throwing knives fly.

  One blade nailed a demon through the eye, and it dropped to the ground screaming. The other missed, sinking into the demon’s chest, the shorter blade causing little damage. That could be corrected. In an instant she was back on her feet. A sharp kick to her blade sank it deep into the demon’s chest, puncturing a lung. It gasped for air and clawed at the blade as it fell.

  Two down. Another demon came. She took that tiny window of opportunity and whipped a throwing blade at Vidor, sinking it into his shoulder. He gave a short cry, then tugged the blade free and threw it to the sand near his feet. Shifting his position, he placed Dulcina squarely before him, using her as a shield.

  The next demon took a swing at her. Cat deftly slipped beneath its thick arm, gained height by stepping on the back of the demon’s leg as its knee bent, and locked her arm around its neck. Cat twisted, throwing her weight, and leaving it temporarily off balance. It struggled to stay upright as another demon charged them.

  Releasing the demon she held with a shove, she rolled out of the way. The charging demon realized too late that she’d slipped away, and unable to gain footing in the sand, it caught the other demon in the ribs, tackling it to the floor.

  Already on her feet, Cat stood over the entangled pair. She pulled the short swords from the sheaths on her thighs and stabbed the first one in the heart. Quick as a snake, she sliced through the other demon’s femoral.

  Yes, they could regenerate, but injuries this severe would take hours. She’d be finished by then, and free to come back for their heads. She once again headed for the center, and Dulcina.

  She dared a sideways glance to Navarre. Bodies, broken and spilling black blood, formed a jagged circle around him. Lord Navarre Casteel was a damn fine swordsman, his style seemingly adapted from something showy to real life application, but it worked for him.

  One last demon blocked her path to Dulcina. It had stepped away from Vidor to engage her, and she met it halfway. Its sword came down, and she raised her two shorter blades, crossed them to block the blow. She twisted her body, forcing the tip of the demon’s sword down to the sand.

  The demon elbowed her in the jaw and she reeled back, spinning, before she landed facedown in the sand. Pain didn’t matter. Only that her blades were still gripped tight in her fists.

  No thought. Only reaction. Her toes dug into the sand, she pushed her body up and then back, until her knees bent beneath her. She flipped her blades, the tips pointing down.

  Cat lunged forward, her momentum her greatest weapon. She ducked under the demon’s sword and leaped up and into its arms, launched her body against the creature. Throwing her arms over the demon’s shoulders, she drove her blades into its back, pulling them toward her in a deadly embrace.

  Mouth open, eyes wide, the demon struggled to breathe against her. It tried belatedly to swing its sword, but its muscles no longer responded well. Cat let go of her blades, hooked an arm around the demon’s neck, and pulled it to the sand face-first.

  She placed one foot on the demon’s lower back, the other between its shoulders. Standing on the demon, Cat gripped both her blades and pulled them free. Black blood coated her short swords, dripping from the sharp tips.

  She turned, stalked toward Vidor.

  Cat dropped her chin, eyes leveled on the man holding Dulcina, assessing the situation. Dulcina was a champ. No crying. No struggling. No talking. Her eyes were wide and staring directly at Cat, alert and waiting for a signal, an opportunity.

  Cat sheathed her short swords and slipped a throwing knife from her belt, but she hesitated.

  “I see you mean to kill me.” Vidor laughed, glancing at his shoulder, his red blood seeping onto the white shirt he wore beneath his expensive vest. The blade she’d thrown still lay in the sand at his feet.

  “Kill you?” The sound of clashing swords behind her meant Navarre still lived. She didn’t have time to be relieved. “No. I just wanted to see what color you bleed.”

  She couldn’t hit him from this angle. Dulcina was tall, and Vidor kept her in front of him now that he’d seen how accurately Cat threw her knives.

  “You think I actually want to harm this child? No, of course I don’t, but should I need to harm her to gain your cooperation…” Vidor’s dark words trailed off as he gazed thoughtfully at the delicate skin of Dulcina’s neck. He bent close to Dulcina, gilded knife on one side of her neck, his teeth dangerously close to the other side. “I will.”

  “You hurt her,” Cat said, her lips curling in a confident and threatening smile, “and I’ll show you why your demons fear me.”

  “This is very fascinating,” Vidor said, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “But you should be dead. It’s your neck I want under this blade.”

  The arena fell silent behind her. The fighting ended and Vidor’s attention shifted to the winner. Cat held her breath.

  “Navarre, well done. I didn’t know you had it in you. It makes me wonder why you didn’t put up a better fight when I put my sword through your chest.”

  Navarre didn’t take the bait. Instead, he came to stand at her side and whispered, “I changed my mind. I want to kill him.”

  “Dulcina first.”

  Navarre nodded slightly.

  “Good.” Resolve flooded her body, a strange he
ad to toe calm. “No matter what happens to me, you take him out.”

  His head turned sharply to her. “What?”

  “It’s all right. I get it now,” Cat whispered. “Sometimes there is no fight.”

  Cat pulled her blades from her thighs and dropped them, then unbuckled her belt, the leather hitting the sand with a soft thud. Fighting didn’t guarantee Dulcina’s survival, but dying would. Arms spread, hands up, she walked toward Vidor.

  “No! You can’t do this!” Navarre called behind her, but she was already in motion, her mind made up.

  Cat knew he wouldn’t follow her, trusted him to secure Dulcina before interfering with her plan, and by then it would be too late.

  “Stop right there,” Vidor said, and Cat obeyed. “Would it surprise you to know that I don’t trust you? Turn around, hands on your head, then down on your knees.”

  She did as she was told. Knees in the sand, hands folded on her head, she waited. He could have killed her right then, stabbed the knife into her back and she’d be done. Vidor’s hand clamped over her forearm with a strength she hadn’t expected.

  Dulcina tumbled, suddenly loose. She gained her footing easily and raced for Navarre. He caught her and hugged her tight, and unimaginable relief washed over Cat.

  Dulcina’s wide-eyed stare fixed on the blades Cat had left in the sand. The girl wanted retribution. Navarre had seen the direction of her focus and drew her attention away to whisper something at her ear. Dulcina looked at her one last time, then ran for the door. She was safe. Cat closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing that happened here mattered now.

  Vidor grabbed Cat’s arm, pulled her to her feet, and put his knife to her throat. The blade was still warm from Dulcina’s neck.

  Chapter 20

  Navarre was desperate to draw Vidor’s attention from Cat, but he had to be cautious. He’d never seen Vidor like this and had no way to predict how he would react when pushed too far. Attacking him was out of the question, and angering him to draw his focus didn’t seem wise either.

  Vidor seemed to be in his own strange world, oblivious to Navarre for the moment as he played with the knife at Cat’s neck until he found the spot he liked, right over the major artery. Vidor pressed the blade in slightly, broke her skin enough to draw a few drops of blood.

  Suddenly, as if he’d just remembered something, Vidor pulled back, sneered as he grabbed Cat’s hair in his fist. “Josette had that same red hair. You look like her.”

  “I lived in Balinese for seven years and you did nothing.” Her skin moved around the blade as she spoke, and Cat didn’t even flinch.

  “You were never a threat to my plans. It’s amazing, really. My demons spent decades searching for you, and somehow you land on my doorstep.” Vidor’s eyes left Cat and fixed on Navarre. “And it is my doorstep. Balinese is mine.”

  This was the opening Navarre had been waiting for, a chance to shift his focus and anger to him. “Demons will not have Balinese.”

  “Demons don’t want Balinese. I do. And I want my city pure. Only vampires will dwell within these walls.” The corners of Vidor’s lips lifted in a nasty smile that hid his teeth. “Nothing of mixed blood will live here, and your heirs will not be born.”

  “Vidor, you speak of my heirs as if they block your right to rule Balinese.” Then Navarre drove the point home. “You have no legitimate claim to my city.”

  “No claim!” Vidor’s jaw clenched, his cheeks mottled. “This city was built by Casteel and Wesleyan hands, yet a Casteel reigns indefinitely. How dare your line rule when mine owns the very ground this city is built beneath!”

  “Those terms had been decided long before you or I came into existence, and the Wesleyans have a permanent seat on my council. There is nothing you lack. You are wealthy, respected, and included in every decision regarding this city.”

  “Included, but never heard. I’ve had to watch you make a veritable parade of poor decisions.” Vidor paused only to take in a deep breath, his hand tightening on Cat’s shoulder. “One of the very first was to give Soren complete control over the Guardians, as if his judgment or skill was better than that of any other individual or committee. Then you allowed that filthy Stalker into the city, made him captain, gave him complete access and control over your Guardians and city. You put a murderer in charge of the protection of your people!”

  “I know for a fact Savard has murdered,” Navarre said easily. “But all sins and crimes are forgiven once a man enters this city. This is Balinese law, and I will not deny any man or woman seeking refuge.”

  Vidor eyed Cat distastefully. “Yes, like the murderer you would mate.”

  Cat moved, ever so slightly, Vidor’s blade still pressed into her skin. She’d been so still, silent, but now Navarre could see her searching for a way out. Her gaze landed on him and he shook his head, trying to stop her from getting hurt by whatever scheme was taking form in her mind.

  Vidor caught the exchange. “You want to protect her?”

  “You should be the one safeguarding her. How can you harm your daughter?” Navarre asked harshly.

  “Daughter?” Vidor sneered, spitting the word from his mouth. “She’s a failed experiment. One of many I have since put down.”

  Cat had that look in her eye. Defiance. Victory no matter the cost. Navarre fixed his gaze on Vidor, made no show of emotion or attention toward Cat.

  “You cannot punish your daughter for circumstances out of her control,” Navarre said.

  “The experiment is over, and it’s far past time the evidence was destroyed. She’s the last.” Vidor shrugged, “She’s Forbidden. All Forbidden must die.”

  “Not in my city!” Navarre shouted, his voice bouncing around the arena walls.

  Cat’s body suddenly went limp. At first he’d thought Vidor had done something to her, but Vidor was unable to support her weight with one arm, couldn’t stop her from sliding to the floor. As she fell, the blade sliced open the vein at her neck.

  When she hit the floor, Cat reached out, searching in the sand. Navarre saw a flash of silver in her palm a split second before Cat surged to her knees and double punched Vidor’s thigh in short bursts. Vidor let out a yelp and reached for his leg. She’d popped his femoral artery at least once, and blood gushed. Vidor stumbled back, already weakening.

  Cat crumpled to the sand. She was down, vulnerable, and Navarre couldn’t tell how badly she’d been injured.

  Though he still held his knife, Vidor squeezed his leg with both hands, trying to stem the flow of blood. Navarre approached, sword in hand, cautious of the madman he’d once called friend.

  “You kill me and demons won’t stop attacking your city. I am their king! I promised them Jericho!” Vidor laughed as he adjusted his weight to his good leg, tightened the grip on his knife, and staggered toward Cat. “Choose. Your city or your half-breed.”

  Navarre’s sword fell from his hand and he raced to Cat. On his knees in the sand, he shielded her with his body, curling his arms protectively around her. She wasn’t conscious. Her neck, shirt, and the sand beneath her were soaked in blood. She was all that mattered to him. Navarre covered the gouge with his mouth, sweeping his tongue over the wound, coaxing her skin to heal. The cut had gone deep, and she’d lost more blood than he’d thought.

  Navarre cried out against Cat’s neck as a sharp pain seared between his ribs. Vidor had stabbed him, his wounded leg making the attack clumsy. Navarre didn’t move, kept Cat tucked beneath him.

  He expected another blow, but when it didn’t come, he glanced up to find Vidor nearby, on his knees and swaying from the loss of blood. Knife gripped tight in his hand, his knuckles had turned white. He couldn’t have more than a minute or two left.

  “When I kill you,” Navarre said, pulling the throwing knife from Cat’s bleeding hand, “I’ll lay your broken body at her feet. She will decide how deep to bury you.”

  “Kill me? The mighty lord will fall, but the demon
blood I drink will bring me back to life.” The ultimate insult of being buried had riled Vidor, but his voice had gone weak, breathy. “That creature’s soft heart put her under my knife, and you chose her over your city. She put you under my blade. You’ll die because of her.”

  Vidor raised the knife above his head, and Navarre curled his body over Cat, prepared to fight back on the downswing, to catch him by surprise.

  “Lucky you.” Dulcina’s calm, level voice carried across the arena sand. “I don’t have a heart.”

  The sound of a single gunshot echoed off the arena walls and Vidor fell, his face bloody as his lifeless body crumpled to the sand. A bullet had gone through his head.

  Dulcina stood in the doorway to the jail, legs braced, the gun still aimed at the spot where Vidor’s head had been a moment ago. Her wild, short curls eerily framed the dark satisfaction in her pale green eyes.

  * * * *

  The loud pop jarred Cat back into consciousness. She was cold, her body jerking with small shivers. Cool sand formed to the side of her face. In the sand meant she was down.

  Afraid to move, to breathe too deeply, she lay still, waiting for the world around her to come back. Her hand throbbed, her fingers likely sliced and torn. She’d used the throwing knife in a way it hadn’t been intended.

  She sensed no movement around her, heard no voices, and had no clear sense of time. The numbness cocooned her body, making it impossible to determine if she had any strength left.

  “Dulcina?” Navarre called from somewhere close, but above her. She tried to look, to see why Dulcina had returned.

  “What?” Dulcina asked, her voice dripping with defiance. “I waited until you were clear. It was a damn good shot.”

  If they were arguing, then Vidor was no longer a threat. Cat swallowed, instantly regretting it as pain radiated through the muscles and tendons of her neck.