The scent of the two establishments combined, to make one of the best odors Sloan had ever smelt. In a way, it was the best part of her childhood. Bouncing around from orphanage to foster home to orphanage hadn’t been easy.
As a child, she had never known her parents much less what a family was. The idea of people being related and caring for one another was as foreign to her as flying was to a fish.
In a way, the army had been the closest thing to a family Sloan had ever known, the queen the most similar thing to a parent. Sloan stopped in front of a massive house with peeling white paint.She leaned against the ill-kept gate. Weeds dominated the yard. Lights that would have shone in every window a few years before were now dark.
The orphanage sign was long gone, leaving a building abandoned to only the memory of what it had once represented. Sloan’s grip on the paper bag tightened as she was transported back in time to relive her childhood, like some kind of punishment.
“Excuse me, mum.”
A young girl’s voice broke Sloan out of her trance-like state. Sloan wasn’t sure how long she had been standing in front of the empty building—minutes, maybe; surely not an hour—but the sky was dark. The moon was full, huge and bright.
“Yes?” Sloan looked the girl up and down. She couldn’t have been older than eight or nine. Her clothes were worn, but she was clean. “What is it?”
“Did you live there?” The girl pointed to the dark orphanage. “I lived there for a time before it was shut down, and I was moved the Albright Orphanage down on Thirty-second Street.”
“I did live there.” Sloan knelt down next to the girl. “That makes you and I sisters in a way.”
“Oh, really?” The young girl’s face lit up. She smiled, showing two rows of crooked teeth. “My name’s Cherish.”
“Cap—” Sloan caught herself. Was she still prepared to be a captain in the queen’s army after the events of the day? “My name’s Sloan.”
“Sloan.” Cherish repeated the word with reverence. “You’re in the queen’s army, then? You must be so brave. I don’t think I could ever do that. Everyone says I’m not worth a damn.”
Sloan wasn’t the motherly type, but something much like motherly instinct caused her to reach forward and place a hand on Cherish’s shoulder. The young girl flinched under her touch.
“You decide how much you’re worth, Cherish.” Sloan looked deep into the girl’s dark brown eyes. “Not your friends, not your enemies. Every day you teach people how to treat you. People want to tell you what you can and can’t do, because that’s what they’ve told themselves in the mirror every morning. It’s easier to write something off as impossible, than to actually apply yourself day after day to accomplish that goal.”
“You’re saying I can be like one of those heroes who rescued Burrow Den from the beast?” The girl’s eyes lit up as bright as the moon. “I heard one of them was the queen’s own guard. She fights like a goddess incarnate. Fire shoots from her sword, and no one knows her true name.”
“Yes.” Sloan gave the girl’s arm a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I’m saying you can be just like her. You can be better than her. You should be getting along now, it’s late. Do you like burgers?”
Cherish accepted the bag, gave Sloan a quick awkward hug, then ran down the street.
Sloan was left alone for a moment. But just as thoughts that things would be all right had entered her mind, the screaming started.
Sloan
As the bloodcurdling noise continued, it became less of a scream and more of a howl. It was coming from somewhere close.
Bad day to binge eat and feel like a balloon, Sloan thought as she buckled her pants. Time to let some of this frustration out.
Sloan ran down the cobblestone street. She made two rights around a large building that looked like some kind of clothing store. Her path brought her into a wide alley.
There, her mind processed the events unfolding in front of her as fast as it raced to come up with a solution. The manic yells were coming from Aareth, hunched over double on her side of the alley. On the opposite end, a group of darkly dressed figures advanced.
“Aareth! Aareth, what’s happening to you?” Sloan couldn’t even glance at her friend; the group of strangers were coming at them too fast. “Are you hurt?”
Screams—no, howls—of pain ripped from Aareth’s throat. His body heaved on all fours as if he were being torn from the inside out.
“He’s the first of his kind.” The lead figure drew back his hood, revealing a pale face with a long scar on the right side. “Just like I was the first of mine.”Sloan drew her saber. “What are you talking about?” She flipped the switch to begin heating the weapon’s blade and gripped the pommel so tight, her hand shook. The light from the full moon gave her enough illumination to count her enemies. There were seven of them, wrapped in dark clothing. The shadows cast by the buildings to either side of the wide alley clung to the figures, as if darkness itself welcomed them. “I know who you are. You’re the assassin, The Scar. You work for Doctor Livingston.”
“I did work for the doctor, but he has grown useless to my true master. He is a pawn in this game, much like you. I, however, am something much more different.” The man spread his arms wide, calling a halt to the advancing figures to either side. Without so much as a look in his direction, they stopped in their tracks. “Now, thanks to the experiments done on me, I am something so much more.”
Sloan slowed her breathing. She steadied the grip on her blade. It was shaking before, not because she was frightened, but from the flow of adrenaline that proceeded every battle.
Aareth pounded on the pavement, still screaming his rage. The thuds of his fists making contact with the ground soon came with an accompanying splash.
“Go ahead, look,” the man in front of her said. “We won’t kill you yet. To miss the transformation of such a wondrous beast would be a shame.”
A mix of concern for her friend and pure horrific intrigue made Sloan look to Aareth. What she saw chilled her to the bone.
The knuckles on both of Aareth’s hands were bloody. Ripped flesh hung off in red ribbons. And this wasn’t even the worst part. The irises of his eyes had gone yellow.
Sloan’s heart seized as she witnessed the impossible.
In front of her eyes, dark fur rippled across his body, while hands and feet transformed into paws. A snout sprouted from of his mouth and salivating teeth snapped an angry staccato.
In seconds, Aareth was gone. In front of her was a half-man, half-wolf creature. It swung its head to Sloan, then to the robed men, and back again. There was no sign of recollection in its hungry eyes, only madness. It shifted its weight onto its muscular hind legs, ready to spring. At who, was anyone’s guess.
“Truly exceptional,” The Scar breathed. He took a step closer. The moon caught his eyes, briefly showing blood red irises. “Both born from experiments; both similar, yet so different. Well, that’s enough admiration. Kill them both.”
Sloan took a step away from the monster Aareth had become to focus on the immediate threat. Two of the six still figures streaked toward Sloan, moving so fast she could only see one thing against their dark clothing: wide-open mouths with long, knife-like fangs.
Aareth was a wild card now. It was up to her and the steel she wielded to see this encounter through to the end. Her saber hummed with heat, and the sound gave her courage. Never the shy type, Sloan charged forward to meet the attack.
They were blurs of black robes and fangs, and The Scar seemed content to let these two members of his group attack Sloan. He moved with the rest, toward the beast Aareth had become.
Sloan slashed out with her sword, but they danced around her, laughing and sneering at her. Every time they came in for an attack, Sloan was a second too late to block or counter. They landed strikes with their knives or with their punches.
In a matter of seconds, Sloan bled from a cut above her eye and her lip. She was brought to her knees with a sh
ot to her kidneys and another to her left temple. Her sword clattered to the ground beside her.
Somewhere in the background, the fight of the century was taking place between Aareth and the remaining members of the Vampire Project. In Sloan’s mind, that’s what they had to be. The queen must have sent them to collect Aareth, when Sloan had stumbled upon the group.
Two more strikes landed across Sloan’s face. Pain exploded all over her body.
“Look at her.” One of the vampires removed his hood. He was the same man who had been part of the exhibit in the palace when the Vampire Project was unveiled. “Captain Charlotte Sloan, too slow and too old to keep up with the new recruits.”
“Stop talking to her, Hunter.” The other cloaked figure also removed her hood, showing her identity—the woman who had exhibited her speed for the crowd in the ballroom. “Leave her be, you know she’s the queen’s pet.”
“I don’t think that’s going to save her this time.” Hunter squatted down beside Sloan. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled up so hard, Sloan thought the roots would be ripped from her head. “I think this time, she’s killed in the confusion.”
A crack so brutal came from the conflict between Aareth and the rest of the vampires. Both Hunter and Sloan turned to look.
Blood painted the pavement and both sides of the alley in grisly fashion. The five vampires trying to bring down Aareth were having a difficult time. Aareth was shaking one of the vampires in his jaws from side to side like a rag doll, the cracking noise coming from the body as he broke ribs.
“Bring him down!” The Scar screamed, rushing in with the remaining four members of his group. Much as Sloan’s own attacker had done to her, they jumped in and out, slashing with knives and hammering Aareth’s body with fists and kicks.
Aareth bled from a dozen wounds. His dark fur was matted with both his own blood and that of his enemies. It was The Scar who had landed the final blow to the underside of Aareth’s jaw. Aareth dropped the body from his jaws and stumbled back, stunned. At once, the remaining vampires dogpiled on top of him—two controlling his head, while the other two bound his legs with iron bracers they drew forth from within their cloaks.
Sloan focused past the haze that had come with so many blows landed to her skull. She had to make the most of her enemy’s temporary lapse in attention.
Sloan grabbed on to Hunter’s throat with her left hand, and with every ounce of strength in her body, she squeezed.
It wasn’t enough to make her pale-skinned attacker gasp, but it was enough to make him release his hold on her hair.
“What are you trying to do?” Hunter grinned, showing off his elongated canines. “You have no chance against us. Did you think grabbing me around the throat would do anything besides piss me off?”
He grabbed Sloan’s wrist so hard, she thought for sure he would break her bones. With the other hand, he grabbed Sloan’s own throat.
“I wasn’t trying to piss you off,” Sloan gasped. “I just wanted you to let go of my hair so I could reach down with my free hand to grab my sword.”
Hunter’s expression went from one of smug pleasure, to confusion, to terror, as he realized what Sloan was implying. He looked down just in time to see the blade turn red.
With all the strength she could muster, Sloan shoved her blade through the underside of Hunter’s jaw, through his open mouth and skull, and out the top of his head. The mage sword hummed with a hungry glee as it traveled through the vampire’s body.
“No!” The vampire woman with Hunter ran forward, slamming into Sloan so hard, Sloan flew across the alley to crash against the brick wall.
Sloan’s vision exploded with bright lights. She landed on her hands and knees, trying to wrestle her consciousness from the fingers of oblivion. Somewhere, she could hear Aareth being dragged off, still thrashing under his bonds.
“You did extremely well.” The Scar came to stand beside Sloan. He lifted her up by her neck. Her feet dangled off the ground. “I’m impressed, captain. It’s too bad you weren’t selected for the Vampire Project. I have a feeling you would have made one killer vampire.”
Sloan didn’t even see the knife in The Scar’s free hand while a piercing pain unlike anything she had ever experienced took her breath away. All of her other injuries paled in light of this new sensation. Breathing became difficult as warm blood spread over her uniform. The knife slid cleanly out from between her rib cage.
The Scar dropped Sloan to the ground without a second thought.
“You’ll have a few minutes to live before you bleed out.” The Scar cleaned the blade on his tongue. “More, if you try to staunch the flow. But there’s no hope for you. Your wound is life-ending. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I have a wolf to skin back at the palace. Have a nice afterlife.”
Sloan watched the back of The Scar retreat as he directed his remaining vampires to drag Aareth down the alley. Darkness came for her soon after.
Sloan
“Wake up, wake up.”
Sloan opened her eyes, ready to see what life after death looked like. To her wonder, it looked exactly like the life she just left.
“We have to get you to a doctor.”
Sloan focused on the voice. It was Cherish, the young girl she had met before the fight.
“I saw everything.” Cherish pushed a empty paper bag against Sloan’s wound. “Come on, we have to get you help.”
“I’m past help.” Sloan didn’t try to regain her feet. She knew what a wound like hers meant. “There’s not a doctor in New Hope who could save me now.”
“So what, you’re just going to give up?” Anger filled Cherish’s voice. “What about all that motivating stuff you told me? Was that all lies? Do you want to live, or do you want to die? You decide that, no one else.”
A light bulb went off in Sloan’s mind. The chances of it working were minimal, but at this point, she didn’t have a whole lot to lose.
“Help me up.” Sloan motioned to Cherish. “Is that the hamburger bag you’re using to stop the bleeding?”
“Yep.” Cherish herself nearly fell helping Sloan to her feet.
The pain upon standing was the worst Sloan had ever felt. Her breathing came in short, wheezing gasps, and every second was accompanied by not only numbing agony, but also a consciousness that worked against her to drag her back into the blackness.
“The palace.” Sloan winced, trying not to put too much of her weight on the girl. “Do you know how to get there? I mean, the back entrance through the garden.”
“I do.” Cherish leaned down to gather Sloan’s sword. “We can stick to the shadows. Let’s go.”
Sloan and Cherish made their way down the blood-soaked alley. Although the street on which the battle had taken place was located in the business district, a handful of people still dared to look out their windows, a few even brave enough to peek around a corner. No one besides Cherish had offered assistance.
The next few miles were ones Sloan didn’t remember, having faded in and out of a conscious state. The only thing on her mind was putting one foot in front of the other. She knew if she could do that enough times, she had a chance of making it to the palace.
“You’ll be all right. You’ll be all right,” Cherish repeated like a mantra. “We can get you to the palace.”
Sloan didn’t say a word. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with Cherish; she just couldn’t spare the extra effort without either falling over or passing out altogether.
Time proved Cherish right. Staying in the shadows, they somehow managed to avoid running into any patrolling soldiers. Likewise, the citizens they did come cross were either too busy talking to one another or wrote Sloan off as a drunk being aided home by a younger sibling.
Soon, the back of the palace was in front of them. A black, wrought iron gate guarded the queen’s garden before opening up to the palace itself. The same moon that had witnessed the fight earlier still shone bright, unhindered by the few clouds roam
ing the night sky.“You saved me tonight.” Sloan pushed herself off of Cherish. She wobbled on her feet under the pressure of the pain pouring over her body from her right side. “Cherish, thank you. I owe you my life.”
“I can go with you,” Cherish said, trying to take Sloan’s arm again. “I can help you.”
Sloan’s eyes wandered to the two soldiers standing guard by the gate entrance. It was impossible for Sloan to tell what they had been ordered to do once they came in contact with Sloan, if anything at all. Was it simply The Scar and his vampires who had been eager to kill Sloan in the process of capturing Aareth, or was there a standing order to kill Sloan on sight?
Either way, there was only one way to know for sure.
“You’ve done more than your part tonight.” Sloan winked at Cherish. “But I may call on you soon. Will you be ready?”
“I will.” Cherish’s eyes widened in wonder. “Anything you need.”
“Perfect. Go now. I’ll come find you when this is all over.”
“Do you promise?”
“You have my word, Cherish.”
“All right, then.” Cherish turned to go. “And thanks again for the burger.”
Cherish vanished into the night, back down the path they had taken to reach the palace. A trail of blood marked the way.
Sloan tried not to think of how much blood she had lost in the process. One thing was certain, she felt weak and cold. If the guards on duty did not welcome her, she was out of luck.
As she limped closer to the two guards, familiar voices drifted to her on the wind.
“And then I told him that if he didn’t move out of his mother’s house, I was going to leave him.” Private Pia breathed a heavy sigh. “I mean, we’re not kids anymore. Is it too much to ask? I can’t support us both on a private’s salary.”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir over here, girlfriend.” Sergeant Harrison shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’ve only just begun to get my life together. You can’t let people pull you down. It’s just so hard ending relationships, because you want to help them, but not at the cost of losing yourself in the process.”
House of Blood: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 2) Page 14