The Font

by Tracy St. John

  He was regaining the extra strength her cursed blood gave him, making her weak as his power grew. Beyond the great head pressed to her throat, Naya could only see the curtains of her canopied bed. They rocked unsteadily, becoming blurry in the motion.

  Heriolf was taking too much. The curtains were rocking harder, as if on a storm-swept boat. The world was turning slowly all around her. She could feel the drunken sway of the bed beneath her.

  Naya welcomed the coming darkness. Gray flowers bloomed before her half-lidded eyes. She no longer fought, beckoning the death that would take her away from the monster who continued to devour her life. Her only thoughts were now centered on the man she loved.

  Please, Elisha, please fly away. Don’t come and die because of me.

  She had to make sure Heriolf killed her before he could do worse. As the ancient vampire fed, she whispered, “I don’t want you. You disgust me.”

  No response. He only continued to suckle at the wounds he’d made, but he was slowing. She was horribly weak and dizzy, but he hadn’t taken enough to finish her yet.

  Naya fought the despair that threatened to drown her, turning instead to fury at the murderer at her throat. “You can’t possibly be the man Elisha is. I gave myself to him. Over and over. I’d never want you after having such a man, even if I didn’t know what you’d done to my parents.”

  Heriolf reared up over her with a roar, scarlet liquid staining his chin. “You are mine. Mine! No other man will have you!”

  She twisted her mouth into a scornful smirk. “Another man already has, and it will be his touch that I dream of, his mouth on my body, his manhood inside of me that I will crave. Never you.”

  Heriolf’s face went purple with rage. Naya saw the madness in his eyes, and his fist rose, the clenched hand like a boulder, ready to descend and smash her skull. She stared up at him, ignoring the rising terror. She curled her lips into a sneer, willing him to end it now.

  Chapter 12

  Elisha kicked desperately, rolling on the ground in an attempt to get the thin silver links to unwind from his arms and torso. The hated metal clung to him like barbed wire, burning into his flesh. As he twisted, frustrated and furious tears leaking from his eyes, he caught sight of a man-shaped shadow. Blurred by emotion, he couldn’t make out the watcher’s features, but his Font-fed senses picked up the thoughts in the other’s mind.

  “Sebastian! Heriolf has Naya!”

  His dearest friend stepped slowly into the moonlit clearing. Elisha blinked until the other vampire’s expression of guilt and fear came into focus.

  Sebastian spoke slowly, as if forcing the words from his throat. “I know. I saw him fly with her on my way to find you.”

  For the first time in his life, Elisha felt something besides love for his lifelong companion. Fury. Almost hatred. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why aren’t you helping me? You were my friend! My brother!”

  Sebastian crouched beside him, the agony in his eyes apparent. “I still am. Which is why I’m not certain you should stop Mariel and the others from destroying Naya and Heriolf both. They are death for you, Elisha!”

  Calm yourself and talk to him. Sebastian hasn’t turned on you. What he does, he does out of the brotherhood we have formed. He will understand.

  Forcing himself to ignore the pain of his binds though they continued to eat into his flesh, Elisha said quietly, “Sebastian, please. I love her. I do not wish to continue my existence without her.”

  Sebastian closed his eyes. Elisha heard the arguments in his head, felt the monumental struggle within the other man. “I know Naya is an innocent. And I don’t believe she deserves death. But Elisha, if you keep her at your side I fear for your life. An army of vampires could rise against you just to take Naya for their own.” His eyes opened again, and his gaze on Elisha was sharp. “You’re not the warrior Heriolf is. Look how easily you’ve been taken down despite the extra powers of her blood. We’ve never been able to do that to him.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me. Love is not about being safe. It’s about daring all for even a few precious seconds of its embrace. Help me.”

  Sebastian looked down at him. The seconds slipped away, bringing death closer and closer to Naya with every tick of the clock. Elisha fought with everything he had to remain patient, to give Sebastian the time he needed to make the right decision.

  Elation swept over Elisha the moment before Sebastian’s shoulders slumped. The former slave sighed and shook his head. “Don’t get yourself killed and make me regret this.”

  “Thank you, my dearest friend. You will never know the depths of my gratitude.”

  Sebastian searched around until he found a large mass of Spanish moss heaped on the ground. Using it to protect his hands, he pulled the silver chain out of Elisha’s flesh. Elisha’s lips were tight against the pained groans that came with being freed.

  Naya’s blood helped the healing begin immediately, but Elisha knew it would be hours before the worst of the wounding disappeared. No matter. He would have to face Heriolf and Mariel injured. Hungry too, because he still had not fed. He hoped the vicious thirst gnawing at his senses would help him fight with extra brutality.

  The instant the chain fell to a sparkling ribbon on the ground, Elisha’s strength flooded back. He leapt up and grabbed Sebastian, pulling the surprised vampire close for an embrace. “Thank you again. No matter how this turns out, I will forever be in your debt.” He released the other man. “Heriolf was taking her to his mansion?”

  Sebastian nodded. Elisha was relieved to discover his friend’s thoughts were all for rescuing Naya now. “That’s the direction he was headed in.”

  With Sebastian at his side, Elisha took to the air.

  * * * *

  Heriolf’s fist opened wide as it descended, not dealing a death blow as Naya had hoped, but to grasp the front of her souvenir tee-shirt. He crumpled a handful of material in his paw and yanked it with brutal strength. The cheap fabric shredded, leaving Naya naked from the waist up. She screamed and folded her arms over her breasts, but the beast was already moving to the sweatpants, ripping them from her and leaving her exposed to his greedy gaze.

  Naya scrambled desperately to escape. Heriolf caught her by her long hair as she lunged from the bed and threw her back down. Then his hand did strike her, slapping her hard across the cheek to send sparkles dancing before her eyes. Naya’s head swam, and she wished for unconsciousness. The fuzziness receded however, leaving her face pulsing with the heat from his blow.

  Heriolf tugged at his pants, loosening them to unleash his cock. It sprang free, looking like a battering ram, so thick and swollen that Naya was sure the vampire would disembowel her with the first thrust. She screamed and fought him with all she had.

  Chuckling as if the impending rape was nothing more than lighthearted play, Heriolf pinned her wrists over her head and used his muscled thighs to spread her legs wide open. He covered her body with his, and Naya sobbed to feel the sickly fevered heat of him poised at her sexual opening. He pressed against her.

  Screams and cries sounded from beyond her closed door. Heriolf paused, his head lifting to listen. The unmistakable sounds of fighting filtered into the room.

  Rather than looking alarmed, Heriolf grinned. His vampire fangs tore through his gums once more to make him more monstrous than ever. He directed that fearsome gaze at Naya. “Time to end this once and for all. Then, my bride, we will consummate our eternal union.”

  With that he leapt to his feet, fixing his pants as he rushed out of the room. Naya heard the door lock behind him.

  Shaking, she slipped off the bed. Refusing to let her quaking legs slow her, she hurried to her armoire, yanking out a dress without even paying attention to which one she’d grabbed. She pulled it on, the blush pink fabric’s silkiness not registering for an instant. Then she reached up to the top of the armoire, finding the key she’d hidden long ago behind the trim.

  Naya was weak from shock and blood loss. It didn’t
matter. What mattered was making sure Heriolf would not get another opportunity to rape her. If that meant dying, she would welcome it.

  She unlocked the door, judging by the furious sounds beyond it that the battle was taking place only on the first floor. Naya swung the door open and stepped into the hall. She’d been right; the hallway and the top of the stairs were clear of anyone else.

  She spied the double-bladed battle axe on the wall, one Heriolf claimed to have used to destroy entire villages when he’d lived as a Viking. She pulled it from the nails it rested on, her weakened arms straining to hold the surprisingly immense weight. Then she went to the stairs.

  The melee below was a riot of vampires beating each other senseless. Heriolf stood in the middle of it, taking on two of his enemies at a time. He’d retained some of the power of the blood he’d stolen from her over the years, power he’d added to when he’d fed so hard on her minutes ago.

  His greatly diminished guards and at least a dozen other supporters battled the conspirators determined to see Heriolf suffer his final death. Mariel was in the fray, using a large blade that flashed silver as she fought to get to Heriolf. Her party had grown until there were more conspirators than Heriolf’s people, but with the vampire king’s enhanced strength, the rebels were still going down frighteningly fast.

  Naya tightened her grip on the battle axe. She started down the stairs, her gaze fixed on Heriolf, the axe held high.

  She was halfway down when Mariel’s voice rose above the shouting. “The Font! Get her! Her death will free us all!”

  As conspirators surged towards the stairway, Heriolf bellowed, “Protect her at all costs! If she dies, you all will!”

  The loyalists and Heriolf fought to put themselves between Mariel’s desperately battling group and Naya. The elf-human raised the axe higher and kept descending towards them. Every one of the vampires stood against her in one form or another, none willing to hear her pleas. Naya decided in that instant that anyone between her and the door was fair game in this fight for survival. She dearly hoped Heriolf would remain in her path.

  * * * *

  Elisha and Sebastian heard the fighting before they caught sight of the old mansion. The front entrance door hung open, and some of the battle spilled out on the cracked front steps.

  None of the combatants outdoors was Heriolf, but Elisha caught sight of the vampire lord through the open doorway, standing at the foot of the stairs. He was throwing Elisha’s co-conspirators about like dolls, breaking their bodies with each thunderous swing. Elisha read Heriolf’s mind, felt the giant Norseman’s triumph. He also felt Heriolf’s strength had returned. The bastard had fed on Naya.

  Dropping to the ground at the bottom of the grand entry steps, Elisha spied Naya inside the mansion. The collar of her dress was stained with blood. She was two-thirds down the staircase, drunkenly swinging an ancient battle axe at both sides of the fight. As he stared in open-mouthed shock, Naya split the skull of one of Heriolf’s guards, the blow landing more by luck than skill. Elisha’s heart swelled with pride for his little elf. Drained and outnumbered, she was still fighting with all she had.

  He also noticed the conspirators were not concentrating so much on destroying Heriolf as they were trying to get to Naya. He readied to charge the whole crowd.

  Sebastian grabbed his shoulder and shouted to be heard over the cacophony. “I will go to her. You must stop Heriolf!”

  Elisha’s instincts fought against it, but he knew his friend was right. Only he himself could hope to defeat Heriolf. He would have to trust Sebastian to protect Naya.

  “Go!” he shouted. Forcing himself to concentrate on his enemy, Elisha launched himself at Heriolf, fangs bared.

  * * * *

  Naya’s arms ached with fiery agony as she swung the heavy axe. No longer able to lift it over her head, she indiscriminately chopped at the waists of Heriolf’s loyal henchmen and the conspirators overwhelming them. As Heriolf’s enemies swarmed at his blockade, the polished wood rails on either side splintered and broke. Staggered posts accusingly pointed at the ceiling like stalagmites.

  Elisha suddenly appeared like a force of nature, smashing bodily into Heriolf. Naya loosed a scream of combined joy and terror to see her lover join in the fray. The struggling pair fell down the stairs, holding onto each other as they crashed down to the marble floor at the bottom, clearing a swath of vampires as they went.

  For an instant everyone stilled, shocked as the evenly matched foes went at each other in a maelstrom of violence.

  Mariel’s voice rang out in the startled hush. “Let them fight! Let them destroy each other! She is the one that must fall.” Her arm rose to point, indicating the exhausted Naya.

  In a blur of movement, Sebastian suddenly stood before Naya, a silver-bladed knife held out in front of him, warning off the conspirators. They gaped in turn at him and the thrashing Heriolf and Elisha.

  Gratitude for the former slave’s support somehow made giving up easier for Naya. She touched his shoulder. “Let it happen, Sebastian. They’ll turn on Elisha and kill him if he wins and I’m still alive.”

  Mariel smirked. She stepped closer, within arms’ reach of Naya’s would-be protector. “She’s right. Step aside, Sebastian. Let us end this now.”

  Sebastian’s deep voice was easily heard over the grunts and crashing bodies of Elisha and Heriolf. “I cannot. He loves her, Mariel, and you know Elisha will not make himself king. Let her live. Let them be happy.”

  “It is not worth the risk. But if you will be the fool, then you may die with them too.” With that, the hand she’d kept hidden behind one thigh flashed out. Mariel thrust a long silver-infused knife into Sebastian’s chest before he could react. Sebastian gasped, his own knife falling to the stairs and bouncing down to the landing. Mariel yanked her blade free and metal flashed again in the flickering light of the chandelier and sconces. Sebastian’s head flew through the air and disappeared over the side of the stairs.

  Naya’s heart filled with rage at the sight. “No!” she screamed. Before his body had finished crumpling where it stood, she swung the battle axe with a rush of furious energy. The next instant, Mariel’s head went in the opposite direction of Sebastian’s.

  * * * *

  Elisha had no idea how well Sebastian and Naya were doing on their end of the fight. He still hadn’t fed since rising, and Heriolf had glutted on Naya’s blood. Elisha could smell his beloved all over the hated tyrant. Anger, even more than desperate animal hunger, helped to make up for the slight edge Heriolf had on him in strength.

  The more ominous threat was Heriolf’s warrior cunning when it came to fighting. A thousand years of battling enemies for what he wanted had given him far more skills than Elisha possessed. The vampire lord was dealing out a greater deal of damage than he was taking. Elisha knew he was in grave danger.

  They’d fought to and fro in the entryway, staggering over bodies that lay already dead. Heriolf had Elisha backpedaling. The bastard had gotten hold of a sword, and he brandished it with ruthless expertise, seeking to make Elisha’s body into two parts. Elisha ducked and elevated over Heriolf’s head in turns, trying to find a way to get past the flashing blade and somehow hurt his foe. When Elisha flew, Heriolf followed him up, his grin savage as he chased the younger vampire.

  Elisha landed on the gore-slicked tile floor then bulleted towards Heriolf’s exposed midsection. The Norseman had raised his sword high over his head as he descended down, and Elisha took advantage of the lapse in self-protection. His shoulder drove into Heriolf’s belly, making the would-be king grunt satisfyingly.

  Elisha shot backwards just in time to avoid his quickly recovering enemy’s stab. Unfortunately, the younger vampire’s feet tangled in one of the bodies underfoot, tripping him. Elisha fell hard to the floor.

  His gaze met Sebastian’s glazed eyes. His dear friend’s bodiless head lay face to face with him, mere inches separating them.

  With a victorious roar, Heriolf charged at Elisha
. The vampire king’s sword poised over his head to deliver a skull-separating slash, one that would make Elisha like the man who had been his brother of the heart. Not even thinking about what he was doing, Elisha rolled towards the onrushing vampire, coming to a stop and driving his feet with all of his strength into Heriolf’s midsection. With a look that was more surprise than hurt, the king of Savannah flew backwards in the air towards the stairs. He landed on the upward stabbing slats that had so recently supported the hand rail.

  The splintered mahogany staves impaled him, one stabbing through his spine. The combination of momentum and gravity sent the wood traveling through his heart until it exited out of his chest. Heriolf stared at the thick splinter. It seemed to grow out of him as his weight drove him further down onto it. Horror registered for a brief instant before his eyes went blank. Heriolf uttered a strange wheeze, like the cry of a distant storm wind. He made no other sound. His body slowly slid down the railing impaling him, skewering him deeper and deeper.

  Heriolf, vampire king of southeast Georgia, was dead for the final time.

  * * * *

  The conspirators seemed to be in equal shock over Sebastian and Mariel’s beheadings and Heriolf’s staking. They were frozen in that unearthly motionlessness only vampires are capable of. The triumphant howl Naya initially felt rising in her belly died unvoiced in the face of that terrible stillness. She waited to see what would happen next, the rush of strength gone from her body, the pitted double blades of the battle axe resting on the step between her feet. It was all she could do to remain upright. She couldn’t have lifted her weapon at this moment had Heriolf risen from his bow-backed arch to snatch her away once more.