With slow and careful movements I eased out my new sword, unsheathing it as quietly as possible. The blue sapphire glinted bright as it came out of the darkness. I let out the breath I had been holding, and crept back to the bed. I held the sword behind my back, although, if he had been paying attention, he would have seen it. He held up his cup waiting for me to pour more sweet nectar for him.
What a stupid hog.
Everything that came next happened so fast, and so instantly - it became a blur. I raised the sword up over my head, and my arms quivered with the weight of it. Rohan looked up when he realized I wasn’t pouring, and seeing the wild look in my eyes, his gaze traveled up my arms to the sharp metal blade. I swung downward. His eyes grew wide for one second; he grabbed for the gun just as the blade came hissing down and hacked into his hand, knocking the gun onto the floor. Kicking frantically, I sent the gun spinning under the bed, almost slipping on the blood pouring from his hand.
As I staggered to regain my balance, in another split second he bounded from the bed, ripping off the pillowcase to wrap around his left hand. I stepped back and raised my sword for another swing at him.
He smiled incredulously, saying, “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you know how to use that thing?” His evil laugh tore into my eardrums like rusty spikes.
“It’s too bad you are so full of yourself, so greedy and selfish. You would have seen this coming,” I said, breathlessly. I gripped the handle of my sword with both hands. “I suppose I could just tell you to leave, but I’ve got a feeling you’ll never quit. So, you’re forcing me to kill you.” I watched closely for his response, not even sure if I could pull this off.
His face contorting with rage, he started to realize how serious I was, and his voice boiled over with hate as he sputtered,
“Too bad you decided to make me kill you, Scarlett. You could have been my woman.” He sneered and grabbed himself again, adding, “We would’ve had such fun times together.”
Filthy pig.
He moved fast. Quicker than I had given him credit for, and in a flash, he was at the front of the cabinet, pulling out another sword. As I ran at him he unsheathed it and circled around me to the middle of the room. His eyes fixed on my sword; he paused, ready for battle. I took a few paces back and held my position, studying him carefully, waiting for his next move.
“Come on, fight like the big man that you think you are.” I goaded him. “All you really are is that hideous clown I met all those months ago.” Gritting my teeth together, I added, “Nothing - more.”
He glared at me, the hatred in his eyes flaring. He had despised me at the gathering for not choosing him and it was obvious this hatred increased exponentially now; his already furious scowl turned ferocious.
He screamed out savagely, raging at me - what a liar and tease I had been. As he hurled obscenities at me, spit flew out of his mouth like a rabid animal. The veins in his temples bulged out and sweat poured off his brow. He had now completely lost any sense of control and he was letting his fury guide him. I had him exactly where I wanted him.
He leapt forward with a thud, lunging wildly at me. I slid to the right. His slashing sword missed me by a mile. He jabbed at me again. And then again. Frenzied grunting accompanied each move he made. I leaped onto the bed. His next swing was brutal, barely whistling past me. He lurched forward and slashed down, hitting the mattress, missing my foot by mere inches, but ruining my royal blue satin sheets. He grimaced as he realized my newest talent: speed. He may be a flyer, but there wasn’t enough room to fly. Speed would always prevail indoors. The only way he could escape now would be to fly out of the window, but I knew he was too full of pride to run from me, a mere woman. And he was controlled now by a consuming savage need for revenge.
“You know, you could just leave,” I suggested, my eyes darting to the open window.
“Not on your life, Scarlett,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “All I have to do is get that sword from you and you will be mine. Only this time, there will be no taking it slow. It will be my way. And as a matter of fact, my plan is to hurt you.” His lip curled in a sinister smirk and his tone fell low and threatening. “I believe I’ll enjoy that: causing you pain.” A glowering wickedness shadowed his eyes. The image he put in my mind was horrifying. But I held my ground and kept my cool.
I jumped onto the floor as the fight continued. Each time he lunged at me, he missed as I ducked and sidestepped. By the surprised look on his face, I must have moved faster than he could have imagined. I protected myself, blocking with my sword, the clash and clang of the heavy metal ringing through the room. No matter where he thrust or swung, I eluded or deflected his attack. Fighting with violent and uncontrolled emotions only weakened what little skill he had in his knowledge of fencing. At one point he swung out so wildly, his blade struck the lamp on the side table, knocking it to the floor and blasting shards of glass everywhere. I wasn’t anywhere near the lamp by the time it shattered.
I moved closer to the window, hoping he would take the hint and just bail out of it. He jabbed, just missing me, but stabbed a hole through my dark blue drapes. By the time he turned around, I was already behind the chair, out of his reach - again. I shook my head. It was almost pitiful, how poorly he fought.
He jumped onto and immediately over the lounge chair, slashing, thrusting, poking at me like a wild man, but I danced behind him swinging my sword and slashed his arm. He winced when he realized he was wounded again, although the gash was superficial. I could have cut clean through his arm, but I held back. Quite unexpectedly, the fight had started to give me a bit of a rush, and I didn’t want it to end - just yet. I disguised my wicked laugh with a dissatisfied gasp.
“What’s wrong, Scarlett? Is your blade too dull to cut through bone?” I hoped this idea would give him false confidence. His mocking tone, that I had grown to hate, returned full force now. “Or are you too afraid of a little blood on your floor?” He glanced down for one second as his blood began to run down his arm and drip onto the carpet, apparently trying to divert my attention from his next move, but I never took my eyes off him.
He advanced suddenly and sprang at me, sword extended. I whirled around and away from him, but not quite quick enough. The tip of his blade hacked off a lock of my hair.
My hair!
I watched it falling downward like a black feather, floating, gliding, seemingly in slow motion. And now I was really pissed. It’s one thing to slice my sheets, stab holes in my drapes, shatter my lamp and spill blood on my carpet...but no one...ever... cuts my hair!
Seeing my momentary pause, he started hacking furiously into the wind, hurling himself at me, calling me names, taunting me, egging me on. “Come on, little Scarlett. Come and get me if you think you can...your arms are getting tired, aren’t they?”
I was sick of the jeering, and the stupid nickname was getting so freaking old. His fruitless lunging and slashing into the air went on for a few more minutes, but each time I was able to escape his thrusting, retreat out of his reach, or deflect his attack. Suddenly, something dawned on me. It became crystal clear: this fight could only end one way. No more pussyfooting around. No more holding back.
I had to kill him!
Obviously, if I let him get the better of me, he’d have his way with me. Which meant Emrys and I would be finished. Or he could kill me. Either way I would lose Emrys. My sudden realization gave me strength. Strength mixed with speed.
Taking the offense rather than the defense - I finally progressed to attack mode and began my assault. His eyes became crazed now that he realized my strength and speed had increased. Beads of sweat poured from his forehead as I took the lead, pursuing and lunging at him, backing him up, forcing him to retreat and guard. He jumped onto the bed, back to the floor, back around the chair - only to find me there, unrelenting, unforgiving, and unmerciful. And then something else dawned on me:
This was it! Sibelle’s prophecy!
As I now became the aggress
ive one, chasing him around the room, her words came back to me - so clearly now…and making all the sense in the world.
On this eve a shrewd deception - is viewed within betrayed reflection.
And as I looked into his eyes, I could see it plainly now.
A cold black heart engorged with hate.
And now I understood: I had to trust my skills, and the only way to end him, would be with my sword.
He was out of breath, panting now. But I felt fantastic! And all the more so when, for one millionth of a second, a flash of an image came to me, and in my mind’s eye I saw the final and abrupt outcome of this battle. This vision gave me the needed strength to go on, the ability to know exactly what to do next, which of his mistakes to watch for, and exactly when to strike. All I had to do now was look for his movements to line up with my vision and I could end this - once and for all.
A few moments later I backed him into a corner. Raising his arm to swing at me, he smashed his hand into the wall and his sword clattered to the floor. The quick metallic sound shot through the air.
“Mistake number one,” I muttered quietly. I readied my sword using both hands, raising it up high over my head.
He crouched down, scrabbling to retrieve the sword, and for one second he took his eyes off of me.
“Mistake number two,” I hissed. Tightening my grip for the final blow, I took a step forward just as he glared up at me, horrified.
His eyes grew wide with sudden terror as his fingers fumbled blindly for the fallen sword, and he called out, “Wait, Scarlett…”
I couldn’t help myself - I gave him a wickedly triumphant grin. And just before I started the coup de grâce, I screamed, “My name is Elizabeth, you stupid fucking idiot!” Using all of my might, I slashed down – cutting clean through his neck.
The sounds came almost simultaneously: a lightning fast swish as the blade whizzed through the air, the rupturing crackle of snapping bones as the blade severed through all the tissue, cartilage and spine, and a dense heavy clang when my sword came to a slamming halt. The top edge of the blade went through the carpet, stopped abruptly, and became wedged firmly in the floor. I had swung so hard and fast that Rohan’s severed head rolled away like a grounded baseball leaving a trail of brilliant red blood in its wake. His body toppled forward with a quiet thud. I stood silent and still as the blood from his lifeless, headless neck pumped out forming a puddle: first spraying in spurts, then oozing out slowly, and finally, dripping like a leaky faucet. The carpet was now a slimy red pond. I glanced back under the edge of the bed. Rohan’s face stared out at me. His eyes were frozen in horror and his mouth agape - crimson covered. He looked more like the ugly clown than ever before.
I canvassed the scene, taking it all in. There was blood and glass everywhere. My bedspread, sheets, lamp and curtains were ruined. There was even a red splash on the chair where he must have dripped blood from his arm. The room was reminiscent of a scene from a slasher-movie where the evil foe has murdered everyone in sight. Only in this case, I was the killer, and I wasn’t sure how this made me feel. I gazed down, inspecting myself. My hands were shaking. My nightgown was ripped. My legs were splattered with red that began to run down and pool under my feet, wet and disgustingly warm. A short, hysterical laugh escaped as I remembered Sibelle’s words again:
One final slash brings forth the flood; two feet will stand upon the blood.
My feet!
My arms ached and quivered from not only the weight of the sword, but more so from its violent slam into the floor. My legs felt weak and rickety, and my whole body began to tremble convulsively as the reality of the scene sunk in. I glanced back into the pool of thick red blood. The tiny ripples came slower with each drip and, there - floating like a dead fish right in the middle of the lake of red sludge, was the chunk of my own hacked off black hair.
I imagined myself collapsing in a heap and crying. I toyed with the idea of screaming bloody murder and running in circles in complete insane panic. I thought about running out of the door and down the hallway to my sister’s room seeking comfort and safety.
Instead, I did what anyone would do who found themselves covered in nauseatingly vile blood from an evil, wicked vampire. I went and took a long, hot, and well-deserved shower.
* * *
Standing in the shower and letting the hot water stream over me, the violent shaking slowly eased down to more of a subdued trembling. It took a long time, although my insides still vibrated offensively, making me queasy and anxious. I thought that if I ended the shower too soon, shock and panic would set in and I’d be cold and shivery the rest of the evening. My goal was not only to wash off the stain of Rohan’s blood but also the memory of his disgusting touch. After scrubbing until my skin felt raw I continued to stand in the hot flowing water, now hoping to warm myself to the bone, and a myriad of thoughts coursed through my mind.
How will Emrys feel being married to a murderer?
Even though it was actually self-defense, I assumed I’d still have to stand before the whole board of elders. In my half-hysteria, I laughed, thinking about how ridiculous it sounded: a vampire trial. Then, reflecting over what the rest of our family would think of me, I speculated whether or not I’d feel any guilt after everyone knew, and the reality of taking a life set in. I even wondered how hard it would be to get my carpet clean.
I wrapped myself in a large towel, stepped into a pair of slippers, and walked back into the blood-drenched room. Averting my eyes from the mess, I gingerly moved toward the door and unlocked it, peering out cautiously. No guard in sight. Without a second thought I headed straight for my sister’s suite.
* * *
I rapped lightly on Melinda’s door, shivered - now feeling chilled - and rapped again.
“Come in,” Lindy called.
Finally, a familiar, comforting voice.
At this point, any voice would be a comfort. Any family member, anyone but the evil I had left in my room. I opened the door and paused before entering, suddenly aware of my lack of clothes. I spotted Melinda sitting on the sofa, next to Gavin.
“Elizabeth!” Lindy’s eyes bugged out when she discovered me standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel, still dripping wet. They both jumped up, staring. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, already heading toward me.
I stood frozen, like a melting ice sculpture, just about ready to turn and bolt back to my suite. Suddenly my legs turned to liquid. Faster than lightning, Gavin caught me before I crumpled to the floor. He sat me down on their sofa and Melinda threw a blanket over me. Uncontrollable shivers rolled through me again and I could no longer control the shaking.
So much for warming myself to the bone.
“What’s wrong, sis?” Lindy asked. The fear in her voice matched her wide questioning eyes. “Are you sick? Are you hurt?”
With my teeth chattering so hard, all I managed to get out was: “Rohan.” My voice sounded rough and my head reeled as the scenario played over again. Everything had happened so fast. I actually wondered if it was real or imagined, and began questioning my sanity as my mind swirled with confusing thoughts.
Gavin jumped up and sprinted for the door. “He’s back?” he fired. “Where is he?”
“Lizzy, did he...?” Lindy began. “Oh my God! He didn’t...” Lindy’s face was a combination of horror, anger, and sorrow. She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me back and forth. I felt her shaking as she imagined the worst. Although her arms were a warm comfort to me, I pulled back with sudden clarity. I certainly didn’t want them to think that Rohan had gotten the better of me and I bristled, saying, “No, oh no! No way!” I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Gavin took his hand off the doorknob, waiting for my explanation. Lindy drew back looking relieved, but curious. She put a hand on my knee and said, “Explain then.”
“He’s dead,” I announced with a long sigh and another shiver.
A look of confusion came over Lindy’s face and I gla
nced at Gavin. His brows pulled together as a frown set in, equally as confused as Melinda.
“And why do you care?” my twin asked using her most sarcastic tone.
“Why indeed?” Gavin echoed.
There was no way to put it - other than to be blunt. I took a big breath and said, “Oh, I don’t care that he’s dead. As a matter of fact, I’m glad of it.”
Lindy began to speak, but I held up a shaking hand to silence her. “I did it; I killed him.”
“You did what?” Gavin spoke first; quite loud and clearly shocked, followed closely by Lindy’s jolting gasp.
She put a hand to her chest and repeated, “Are you serious?” several times before I could calm her down enough to speak.
“He showed up in my room. He tried to....you know,” I said, giving Lindy a look I knew she’d understand. I was too embarrassed to say it in front of Gavin. “I managed to trick him into thinking I was actually interested,” I said with a shrug. “And...then… I used my new sword.”
Melinda turned her attention to Gavin and suggested, “Shouldn’t someone go check to make sure he’s really dead?”
“I’ll take care of everything. You two sit tight.” He reached for the doorknob again.
“Oh, he’s dead alright,” I said. “You’ll find his head under my bed.” I chuckled at the unintended rhyme, but then added soberly, “But wait a minute.”
Gavin stopped and faced me again.
“I need you to do me a favor before you... dispose of his body. Get Emrys’ ring back for me, would you? He’s wearing it on his left thumb.” It may have sounded like a cold-hearted request, but the thought of how he came to be wearing it in the first place made my skin crawl. He must have been watching us from the other side of the fireplace the day the ring went missing, and the very idea of it made me so angry that I wished I could kill him again.
Gavin nodded in silence. His white hair swung over his shoulder as he turned back to the door and left the room. I knew what he meant by taking care of everything. He would have to burn the body and the head separately, and then bury the ashes in different areas. It was the only way to be sure Rohan stayed dead.
The Ravenswynd Series - Boxed Set Page 65