With a quick motion, he grabbed Betina by her hair and twisted her head. A sickening crunch echoed in the empty hallway. Jӧrg barreled out of the room and into Luca. Both of them were over six feet tall and the center of gravity wasn’t good when Luca’s back hit the railing. They went over and the wind was knocked out of him on impact with the hardwood floor.
Jӧrg was on top of him and practically foaming at the mouth.
The ancient samurai sword that hung above the fireplace in the living room wasn’t just for decoration. If Luca could get his hands on it…
Jӧrg landed a blow to the side of Luca’s head before he kicked the man off him. Jӧrg rolled backward toward the dining room, giving Luca time to scramble to his feet. He grabbed the sword off the wall and unsheathed it. Jӧrg stopped in place and stared at the blade. The light from the lamp glinted off the sharp silver edge. Before he gave it anymore thought, Luca swung the sword and lopped Jӧrg’s head off. It rolled to a stop next to the couch. It took a few seconds for Jӧrg’s body to catch up. Blood spurted out of his neck and he crumbled to the floor.
Luca’s back muscles tightened and a deep pain throbbed in his shoulder, but he raced back up the stairs. Time was limited and he needed to finish Betina off. She lay on the runner in the hallway, her head turned to the side. Her neck was broken, but she could heal from that with enough time and if she got some blood. Luca didn’t intend to give her either. But before he let her die, there would be one final act of redemption.
He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. A gurgling sound came from her chest as he carried her into the bedroom and deposited her onto the bed beside Collette’s still body.
Collette would probably think what he was about to do was magick or some kind of voodoo and in a way it was. As a young vampire, his blood wasn’t strong enough to change Collette, but Betina’s was.
Collette’s chest didn’t move and there were no sounds coming from her. Tears still clung to her eyelashes and a black streak of mascara trailed from the corner of her right eye to her hairline. Red bruises were evident around her mouth and nose made more pronounced by the deathly pallor of her skin.
Tears burned his eyes. He wished he had told her he loved her before he’d left last night.
He wondered what her last moments had been like, how afraid she must have been as that motherfucker squeezed the life out of her. Luca needed to focus. Thinking that way wouldn’t do either of them any good. He stroked Collette’s cheek with his knuckles. He gently parted her lips. Blood streaked her teeth and he opened her jaw. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
Betina groaned, but didn’t move. With her broken neck she was likely paralyzed. Luca took her arm and pushed the sleeve of her blouse up. His fangs had dropped as soon as he came into the house, so he was ready. He sliced them into Betina’s wrist. A spray of blood hit his tongue and he spit it on the floor and held her arm over Collette’s mouth. He’d never actually done this, so he wasn’t sure how much blood was needed. There was a formula based on body weight, and he had watched Betina change Jӧrg. He was at least a hundred pounds heavier than Collette and it hadn’t taken very long. He let Betina’s wrist drip for about thirty seconds.
He didn’t bother closing the wounds. With no further need for her, Luca carried Betina downstairs. The sun would be up soon. He put her on the floor in front of the picture window facing east. There were no neighbors that could see in. To make sure Betina couldn’t move, he dragged Jӧrg’s body over and put it on top of her. Two hundred pounds of dead weight should keep her immobilized. For good measure, he put Jӧrg’s head next to them. Luca opened the curtains. It was no secret that vampires didn’t fare well in sunlight and it was the easiest way to dispose of bodies. They’d turn into ash and he’d sweep them into the fireplace. Gone.
Exhausted, Luca slowly walked back upstairs. In the doorway, he stared at Collette. Her face was turned toward the wall, away from him. He sat down on the floor to wait and see if the blood would take.
It startled him when Collette gasped. She grabbed the blanket on the bed and her eyes opened. At the same time, there was an ungodly screech from downstairs and he smelled smoke. The sun must be coming up.
The tie was permanently broken now. He felt it snap. Thanks to Betina, he’d now be tied to Collette.
Luca crawled onto the small bed with her and put his arm around her. A low growl sounded from her chest. Collette flipped him over on to his back and straddled him. Her eyes were the color of whiskey when she grabbed his head and sunk her new fangs into his throat.
“I love you,” he said and settled his hands on her hips.
THE END
About the Author
Alyssa Breck
Alyssa Breck is an author of horror/urban fantasy, paranormal romance and erotic fiction. She grew up reading Stephen King and V.C. Andrews. The Shining changed her life and sparked a love of all things scary, spooky and spine-chilling. Add some romance to that and she found her niche weaving paranormal and erotic romance stories. Alyssa hangs her hat in the South with her family of humans and fur-babies.
Find out more about Alyssa:
Website: www.AlyssaBreck.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alyssa.breck
Twitter: https://twitter.com/alyssabreck
Check out Alyssa’s other books
Unraveled
Broken by Fate
Find redemption in the Union of the Snake.
Union of the Snake
by
KC Burn
Dedication
For the love of guyliner.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Louisa & Sabrina for inviting me to write this story.
A Note from the Author
Union of the Snake just seemed like an ideal song since I write gay romance and sci-fi, and the title lends itself to both. Also, I do so love the video - I may have watched my DVD version a number of times for "research" and "inspiration" purposes.
~KC Burn
Chapter 1
"GET IN THERE, you human scum. Your first fight is tomorrow."
The larger prison guard slammed the base of his lance into Zerek's shoulder blade, sending him stumbling into a cell. He caught himself, barely, before slamming his head against one of the rough, uneven rocks that formed the walls of the tiny enclosure.
The Hilruda guards had done nothing to loosen the bonds, which held Zerek's wrists during his sentencing. With a bit of determination and strength, he should be able to use those damp, lichen-covered rocks to work his way free. Otherwise, he'd be fighting the next day with a fairly severe handicap. More severe than the concussion making his vision blur.
Motherless, cheating, sons of oxen humpers.
Once the guards left, the only light left was the dim orange flicker of torchlight. Barely enough to see his hands in front of his face, but he'd heard enough stories about the Stony Gate prison facility to know the comfort and well-being of the inmates were immaterial. Especially the human ones.
His twin life goals had been to both avoid ending up in Stony Gate and to be prepared in case he did. Fortunately, he'd failed at only one of those goals, so he was confident he had a decent chance of surviving the pit fights until he could figure a way out of this cesspool. Escapes weren't unheard of, but they were quite rare. Zerek intended to become the feature of whispered stories told around the work camps. Well, he already was. He had a reputation to live up to, and it didn't include engaging in prisoner exploitation combat to gratify the increasingly rapacious appetite of the Hilruda.
Forgoing the ratty and likely parasite-ridden bed for now, he settled on the chilly floor by the most lethal outcropping of stone and began the laborious process of cutting through his bonds.
Soon, he fell into an almost hypnotic rhythm, the rasp of rope on rock giving him something to focus on besides the echoing sounds of human suffering. He'd never heard how many people Stony Gate could hold, but what did numbers matter? Humans had been ground dow
n to little more than slaves of the Hilruda over the past couple of generations. No one could take the Hilruda to task for their ill treatment of any human, never mind overcrowding in a facility filled with people deemed criminals. Even if most of them were innocent.
"Hey, newbie." The whispered words startled him enough that he allowed a momentary pause in his work, but staying calm and being able to assess new information as quickly as possible were key ingredients to surviving to his ripe old age of twenty-nine.
"Yes?" Zerek wasn't about to get friendly. Not until he had a better idea of what he'd be facing.
"Whatcha in for?"
"Smuggling." Most people in here were innocent. He wasn't one of those people, but his life's work fell on the right side of his own moral compass, so he didn't feel a smidgeon of guilt about breaking any of the Hilruda laws imposed since the Bitter Silence. Neither was he in here to make friends. If he could, he'd free everyone, but those were lofty goals for another day, another life. He had to get himself out of here first.
"Smuggling? I heard the masters say they'd arrested a whole crew of smugglers, including Zerek himself."
Zerek's teeth clenched and he put more effort into separating the rope between his wrists. With the Hilruda—no way would he call them masters—advertising his capture from one end of the planet to the other, restoring his reputation was going to prove difficult. But not impossible, especially if he escaped Stony Gate unscathed.
"A whole crew?" If that toad loving son of a goat who'd betrayed him managed to get his entire crew captured, Zerek's first stop would be to Gress's misbegotten hovel where he'd strip his skin to make new boots.
"Oh, yes. Some of the guards were practically giggling, they were so happy." The disembodied voice coughed. "Uh, I guess you knew them."
Zerek shrugged, even though it was likely his new friend couldn't see. The guards that had brought him down from his sentencing hadn't giggled. He wasn't even sure they knew how to laugh, but then, most Hilruda looked like they'd swallowed their own teeth. "Dunno. I don't even know if Zerek's real. Must be propaganda." Despite the fact he was involved in a lot of illegal operations, Zerek was well aware the story of his exploits gave people a small sliver of hope and made the Hilruda rabid. His capture alone was a huge victory for the Hilruda. Even the rumor of his crew's capture would grind the spirit of his fellow humans into the mud.
"Zerek exists. I know a guy who did business with another guy who sold him something."
He bit his lip against a rueful chuckle. He much preferred that sort of ephemeral "proof" of his existence. But another guy who sold him something had also sold him out to the fucking Hilruda. When he got out of here—and rescued his crew, if their capture wasn't just propaganda—he was going to have to revisit his entire network and reassess them.
A hacking cough lasting for several painful seconds prevented his companion from speaking, and when the episode was over, ragged breathing followed.
The damp, chill, and lichen spawned illnesses and prevented healing. He doubted many of the inmates received medical care. They'd be lucky if they received full rations of food and water.
Zerek concentrated on his bonds again, ignoring the sting of raw flesh on his wrists. After a few more minutes of intense exertion, the rope parted. With some effort, he held in a shout of triumph. Bringing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted.
Now that his arms were free, he noticed the knotted muscles in his shoulders and the ache in his neck. He'd been bound for almost a day—his capture and sentencing had been alarmingly swift, and he thanked his lucky stars that they hadn't bound his hands behind his back. Otherwise, he'd be in much worse shape for a fight tomorrow.
Stretching, he sifted through what he knew about the pit fights. Almost all of it hearsay, as he'd never been able to track down any of the people who'd supposedly escaped, assuming they were still alive somewhere.
Zerek listened carefully, but couldn't hear the murmur of voices, or nearby sounds of any other inmates aside from the still labored breathing of the guy who'd spoken to him.
"Hey, you still there?" Maybe he shouldn't have been so dismissive of his companion. There was no point in asking if he was okay. Anyone in here wasn't okay, and what was he going to do if the guy needed help? Call a healer? Be like trying to capture the wind.
"Yes." The voice was weak, and Zerek steeled himself against caring. If he had the wherewithal to rescue every damned person in the building, then burn this cesspit to the ground, he would.
"You been in the pit? Got any tips?"
"Yeah. Don't lose."
* * * *
THE GUARD’S THREE FINGERS bit into Zerek’s bicep as the fucker helpfully “guided” Zerek through the winding tunnels of Stony Gate. He’d been rousted from his cell as unceremoniously as he’d been locked in. Although neither of the guards said anything, it was obvious the time for his fight had come.
He took careful note of the path and landmarks, but nothing struck him as an escape route. The couple of passageways they passed appeared to lead to nothing except wings with more cells. Judging by the oscillations of sound, these wings held far more captives than his.
If there had been the slightest hint of a way out, he’d have tried to break the guard’s hold and make a break for it. The clammy touch of skin more amphibious than human made his skin crawl like nothing else. All three sentient species that coexisted on the planet were humanoid in shape and appearance, but the Hilruda were built to nightmare specifications.
Three fingers that ended in bulbous pads gave them an excellent grip. Their jaundiced skin was moist and clammy, like the rocks in which they preferred to make their home. Their eyes were small and beady, but their mouths were circular and fleshy, the only thing about the Hilruda that wasn’t reminiscent of a long-dead cadaver. There was a reason people called them leeches, at least when no Hilruda was within earshot.
But the guards, for all that they were cadaverous, were taller and stronger than most humans, even Zerek, who was big for a human. Breaking away—even if he could—would gain him nothing.
Their journey ended at the edge of a circular open space, a thick layer of dirt covering the stone ground.
With a shove that seemed to be the guards’ standard method, Zerek ended up on his hands and knees in the soil. A cheer rose up above, and Zerek pushed himself to his feet. Roughhewn stone walls surrounded most of the circle, with three other openings much like the one he’d arrived through.
The cheering came from a point well above his head, where several rows of seats ringed the stone circle. The seats were filled with more Hilruda than he’d ever seen in one place, each of them noxious in their fevered anticipation. A sneer curled his lip.
Ignore the crowd—they’re a distraction.
After Zerek’s cellmate had given him the obvious and extremely unhelpful advice of “don’t lose,” he’d gone on to provide more specific tips, in between bouts of wracking coughs that left him without breath to speak for several minutes. Zerek hadn’t understood the crowd reference until now, as he hadn’t wanted to push the man for explanations that would require more words. Distractions in a fight were bad news, but Zerek had trained a long time in preparation for this moment, even if he’d never quite expected it to come.
He shook out his arms, holding back a wince. That mold-sucking blight of a guard had likely left bruises from his grip.
“Greetings, my fellow Stony Gate patrons.”
Trying to control his curiosity, Zerek shot his gaze around the stadium, searching for the speaker. The way the sound echoed and amplified around him, it wasn’t easy to pinpoint, but the dramatic arm waving quickly drew his attention.
“We have a special treat for you today, fresh from his capture and sentencing yesterday. Zerek, the smuggling scourge of the human infestation, stands before you.”
The cheering swelled, and the expression on the speaker’s seamed face could only be interpreted as gleeful satisfaction. The speaker went on to
announce the long list of Zerek’s so-called crimes, but Zerek did his best to ignore it. He knew exactly what the fuck he’d done to foul up the Hilruda, and he needed to focus on surviving.
This time, the announcer addressed him directly. “Welcome to the pit, Zerek.”
As much as he liked being a pain in the Hilruda’s collective asses, he wasn’t keen on his species being described as an infestation. If only his ancestors had known how much contempt the Hilruda held for them, they might have chosen a different planet to settle on.
Don’t kill anyone. That’ll just get you punished.
Zerek pulled his shoulders back and bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting. That was advice he’d actually been pleased about. Unless he ended up fighting one of the odious Hilruda. Nothing could hold him back in that case.
He’d heard rumors that some of the contests involved fighting beasts, and Zerek wouldn’t sacrifice his life to save them, but he’d be happy if he could put them down without killing them. After all, they were here under duress just as much as he was. Still, he had to remember that even if he wasn’t intending to kill anyone or anything, he had to assume that his opponents might have other ideas, and he needed to be prepared.
Asking for clarification of that tip, though, had been thwarted by a particularly vicious coughing fit that Zerek believed had ended in his cellmate spitting up blood. He’d merely waited, letting his cellmate regain his composure, and speak more only if he felt up to it.
Don’t let them see your emotions.
That one didn’t make sense at all, and he had wondered if his cellmate’s illness had turned to delirium.
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