by Amy Miles
Her chestnut hair is matted with blood and her violet eyes are glazed with pain and terror. “Please,” she gurgles as blood bubbles from her mouth.
Fane nods and rises to his feet. Ambrose lowers her face to the ground as he swings his mace, bringing it down squarely over her heart. She doesn’t scream or thrash. She just falls silent, at peace.
He stumbles backward, horrified by her death. How many others have they lost?
Turning around, he stares across the battlefield and spies Daelyn’s flaming red hair, her head nearly five feet from her body. Julian Le Roi’s tall frame has been cut in half. His only remaining eye stares up at Fane, accusingly.
Fane’s stomach lurches as he falls back, landing beside the stricken face of his friend, Enoch. The immortal’s black hair has been used to choke him while his stomach has been sliced cleanly open.
Enoch’s chest rises and falls unsteadily. Fane rushes to his side and grabs the hunter’s body, ignoring the fact that Bodgan Ardelean would be the last hunter to want to save an immortal with his own blood. “Drink, friend. There is still time.”
A sword surges up through Enoch’s chest, sending Fane sprawling backward. Bodgan’s body flops to the ground as Kuma withdraws his samurai sword from Enoch’s chest. Kuma yells in a foreign tongue and leaps straight for Fane.
Fane rolls to the side, narrowly missing the slashing sword. Kuma’s brother, Aiko, attacks from the opposite side, forcing Fane back into a pile of bodies. Blood clings to him, coating every inch of bare skin and making it harder to move.
Fane leaps to his feet, his mace already swirling overhead, as a scream rises behind him, high and definitively feminine. “I’m here,” Roseline shouts, pressing her back against his.
The clash of steel is sudden and evenly matched. Fane has never fought Kuma or Aiko in battle before, but the tales of their deadly skill is proving to be highly accurate.
Sweat forms along Fane’s brow as he fights off Kuma. He is desperate to keep track of Roseline, but her movements are steady and sure as she presses Aiko back.
“Watch out,” she shouts as she shoves him to the side, narrowly missing being pummeled by a falling angel. Its enormous body slams to the ground, sending Fane sprawling. Roseline regains her footing first and slices at Aiko. Blood gushes from his arm as he retreats, leaping backward over the angel.
Roseline immediately follows, remaining on the attack. Fane kicks out his foot, taking Kuma unaware. With a slash of his mace, he buries the spikes into the samurai’s back, downing him with one blow. Kuma’s grip on his katana slips as he falls face first into the crimson muck.
“Behind you!” Fane shouts as Roseline lunges toward Aiko. She screams as a metal tipped dart slams into her shoulder. Her sword falls from her right hand and she goes down, momentarily disorientated.
Mastus leaps at Fane, his white toga stained with the blood of his friends and family. The Greek screams as Fane locks his hands around Mastus’ head and pulls. Fane can feel the flesh of Mastus’ neck protesting, then slowly giving way as he yanks the head free.
He tosses it aside as Mastus’ body slumps to the ground. Fane turns and feels his heart stop as Mateo crawls atop a pile of bodies and turns, spikes first, and leaps backward toward Roseline. Locked into a fierce battle with Aiko, she can’t see the coming attack.
Without thinking, he shoves her aside and grunts as the impact slams him to the ground, crushing him under the weight of the bear-like immortal.
He blinks, fighting to see as suffocating pain debilitates him. The spikes have buried through his back from tailbone to skull. He can’t move, can’t breathe. All he can do is scream.
Twenty-Eight
Roseline’s mind shuts down as she watches Mateo slam into Fane. Her friend’s cry of pain wrenches at her heart as she stumbles to her feet. Sounds fade around her until all she can focus on is Fane’s muffled cries. They rise higher and higher each time Mateo rocks to free himself.
“You’re not going anywhere.” She shoves her sword down through his thigh, staking him to the ground. Mateo’s wild red eyes meet hers as she grabs her other sword and stakes him through his arm. He growls and snarls like a wild animal but his thrashing eases as rivulets of blood seeps streams down his leg.
She drops to the ground, reaching under Mateo for Fane’s hand. His grasp is weak as his eyes clamp tight against the pain. She can hear fluid filling his lungs as he struggles to speak.
“I’m…sorry,” he croaks, wincing at the effort it takes for those two words.
“No.” Her heart is wedged in her throat as she snuffs back her tears. “I’m sorry. I should have seen him coming.”
“Not…your…fault.” Fane gasps for breath, wheezing. His eyes are glossed over when he looks at her. He cries out as Mateo lurches to the side. When Mateo falls back, the spikes burrow deeper into Fane’s chest.
Tears fall freely down Roseline’s cheeks as she grasps his hand in hers. “I’m going to pull him off and then get you some blood.”
“No,” Fane says hoarsely. “Too…late.”
Mateo wrenches again and Roseline rises up to punch him in the face. He growls at her, spittle flying from his mouth as he tries to bite her. This time she makes sure to take a few teeth with her. He subsides, but not without several threats of dismemberment.
She lowers back down and sucks in a breath at how pale Fane is. “Hold on. I’ll save you.”
Biting into her wrist, she goes deep, making sure to sever an artery. Blood flows freely from her arm as she presses against the ground, inching her arm toward him. “Drink!”
His eyes flicker toward her arm and then shift away. “Kill…me.”
“No!” She struggles to lift Mateo’s weight so she can get closer to his mouth. The hulking immortal feels unbearably heavy as he flails, beating at her with his sharp nails. She slams her fist into his face and he falls still. When she drops to her knee and tries to reach Fane, he doesn’t try to reach for her. She can see sadness in his eyes and realizes that he’s saying goodbye, giving her a chance for survival. A healing now would greatly weaken her, but she doesn’t care. “I’m not going to lose you!”
“Sword…kill…Mat…” his eyelids flutter closed as blood seeps from the corner of his mouth.
Roseline chokes back her tears as she struggles to reach him. “Fane, please! Answer me!”
He lies still, barely breathing, but he never answers her again. She sobs as she wiggles out from under Mateo. Rage mingles with loss as she rises to her feet. Mateo follows her movements as she shifts to stand between his feet, her hands gripping the hilts of her swords.
Mateo giggles like a mad man, salivating. Roseline’s expression grows cold as she wrenches both of her swords from his leg and arm and holds them together over her head. “Goodbye, my dear friend.”
She clamps her eyes shut as she slams her swords into Mateo’s chest, skewering his heart. She pushes with all her strength until she feels the blades piercing through his back and into Fane. Her hands tremble as she falls back, stumbling to the ground.
She lifts her face to the sky and screams, one long shriek of remorse for Fane.
When Nicolae and Sadie find her, surround by blood and death, her chest rises and falls rapidly. Rage burrows deep into her soul, incinerating what little mercy she might have shown to her enemy.
“Rose?” Sadie whispers, stretching out her hand to touch her friend.
“Don’t,” Nicolae warns, drawing back her hand. “Let her be.”
“But she’s nearly catatonic,” she protests.
Nicolae pulls her away as Roseline rises. Her aqua eyes are dark and her expression is tight, void of emotion. She slowly shifts her fiery gaze toward Nicolae. “I’m going to need a new weapon.”
***
Roseline spins the battle-ax in her hand, getting the feel of its weight. It is sturdy, forged from Romanian steel. Although it is not as finely crafted as the Brules dagger Nicolae loaned her as a backup, it will certainly do the t
rick. “Stay here. I don’t want either of you getting in my way.”
“No way,” Sadie protests, pulling against Nicolae’s grip. “I’m not letting you go out on a death march with no one watching over you.”
“Sadie,” Nicolae hisses through his teeth, tugging on her arm.
“It’s insane,” she continues. “She’s completely out of her mind.”
“Sadie!” Nicolae shouts.
She turns, her face reddened by blood and gore. It clings to her cheeks, matting down her hair. “What?”
“This is what she is best at. Trust me.” Nicolae says, offering Roseline an encouraging smile. “She’s going to tear this place apart to get to Lucien.”
Roseline doesn’t grin nor does she acknowledge his words in the slightest. She just turns and walks away, winding a path through the carnage.
Bodies litter the ground. Some are still moving and moaning while others lie still. Fingers, toes and other various assortments of limbs scatter the ground before her. She doesn’t try to step over them. She just stomps forward, her gaze ever alert for Lucien.
The haze has begun to lighten and the sounds of the dying dragon have faded away. When did it fall? she wonders but quickly dismisses the thought. It doesn’t matter when or how. All that matters is that it won’t be throwing any more fireballs at her.
Through the shifting smoke, she can see small battles still raging. The battle is not over, but as far as she can tell, neither side has won. Hundreds lay slain, possibly more. Too many good men and immortals were lost today.
A creature with slimy skin and oil slick black eyes deeply set in its head slithers out and wraps its fingers around her arm. She reacts with hardly a thought, slicing cleanly through its arm. It squeals and retreats back into the smoke to lick its wounds.
A shout from several feet ahead causes her to break into a run. Her feet slosh through the melted snow as she stomps through the inch of blood that coats the ground.
“Get back here,” a masculine grunt greets her as she emerges from the smoke to find Grigori locked in fierce battle with Keli. The immortal’s pointed teeth have shredded through much of Grigori’s right arm, tearing his muscles nearly down to the bone. It hangs by his side, completely useless.
“Grigori, no!”
Her cry comes too late as Keli whips out of Grigori’s grasp and tears out his throat in a single bite. Blood sprays in all directions as Keli pulls back with the hunter’s flesh dangling from his teeth.
Roseline snarls as she leaps forward and buries her ax deep into Keli’s back. With both hands, she wrenches it to the right, severing his spinal cord. She shoves him off her blade and kicks him onto his back.
His eyes are wide and bright with rage. His arms and legs fall to the side, unusable.
“Go on,” he croaks, blood seeping from his toothy grin. “Kill me.”
She bends now, kneeling with her weight against the butt of the ax. “For the sake of my friend that you just murdered, I’m going to let you live.”
Roseline rises, ignoring his pitiful wails as she works to move all bodies away from him. Death would be too easy for him. Now he will suffer, lying paralyzed in the middle of the arctic tundra with no hope of ever getting the blood he needs to regenerate. Revenge is sweet.
Searching through the remains of the two armies, Roseline grows fearful as she reaches the edge of the battlefield. Lucien is nowhere to be seen and neither is Gabriel.
“Lucien,” she screams at the top of her lungs, cupping her hands around her mouth. Let him find her. She’s itching for a fight.
“Roseline!”
She turns at the sound of the cry. Narrowing her eyes, she sees Claudia sprint through the smoke. The instant she spots Roseline, she swerves and races to her side.
Claudia shows little sign of exhaustion when she comes to a stop before Roseline. Her fair skin is stained red and her clothes are badly shredded. Small wounds line her arms and neck, slowly seeping blood, but for the most part she seems to be fine.
“Have you seen Gabriel?”
“No,” Claudia shakes her head. “The main part of Lucien’s army has fled to the trees. Theus has followed them, as have the remaining hunters. I believe Costel is leading that group.”
“And who remains on the battlefield?” Roseline turns and looks to the horizon. The twilight sun has begun to poke through the layer of cloud. A single plume of smoke rises from the east where Maelstrom is taking his last breath. A wide river of blood flows out before her as far as she can see.
“Where is Fane?”
Roseline turns her face away, shaking her head. Claudia’s sigh is heavy, weighted under the unconceivable loss. “I’m sorry,” she whispers
Wiping away her tears, Roseline nods. “Where is everyone?”
“Your friends are alive. They are working to round up the survivors as we speak. Our kind will be fine, but I worry about the hunters. We are not prepared to care for so many wounds. Many of them may still die.”
Roseline gives Claudia a hard look. “We will not turn any that do not wish it.”
“Of course, I just thought…”
“No,” Roseline cuts her off. “We owe it to them to give them a choice. Immortality is not something to be chosen lightly.”
Claudia’s pained smile makes her think of her own transformation. Roseline places a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “We weren’t given a choice. They deserve better.”
“I agree,” Claudia nods. “I’ll let Nicolae know.”
As Claudia jogs back up and over the small rise, Roseline turns her gaze to the trees. There is no sign of movement and no hint of her prey, yet she feels drawn to the forest. Looking back over her shoulder, she knows that she is needed here, but she can’t shake the feeling that Gabriel is somewhere out there.
She tightens her grip on her ax and sprints toward the trees, terrified and exhilarated at the same time. With each step she takes, the surer she is that Gabriel waits for her.
***
Gabriel stops and sniffs the air, checking to make sure he is on the right track. He caught his father’s scent not long after he took down the troll. It was faint, but definitely there. He instantly turned and ran back into the woods, away from the battle, away from his friends.
With each slap of his foot against the ice, he knows that he might never see Roseline again. Is she still alive? Does she search for him?
He grits his teeth, increasing his speed as he burrows deeper into the woods. He promised never to leave her side, but loyalty to his sister and desire for revenge drove him to break that oath. Guilt riddles him as he presses on, knowing that if he survives this day and she does not, he will never be able to live with his decision.
Take care of her, he silently whispers in prayer.
He has no idea if there is anyone listening, but if angels and dragons can be real, then why can’t God?
A glint of steel flickers before his gaze a split second before he feels blood seeping down his chest. He winces in pain as he turns and stares at his father.
Lucien tsks, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I would have thought Elias had trained you to expect a trap.” He moves forward, surprisingly light on his clawed feet.
Gabriel realizes that his father’s arms and legs have doubled in size since he last saw him. Lucien’s long hair has begun to fall out of his scalp in large clumps. His lips have smoothed out into long lines and his ears have shrunken back into his head, giving him a more reptilian appearance.
“But then, I wonder if perhaps you were merely thinking about something else. Perhaps a certain someone?” His words come out as a soft hiss as he sways in the tiny clearing. His tail swishes back and forth against the ground, unearthing twigs and fallen pine needles from the snow.
“Leave Roseline out of this,” Gabriel roars, reaching for his sheath. He withdraws his sword, its blade igniting the instant it touches the air.
“She was never yours to have. She was meant for me.” Lucien’s too
thy grin stretches wide across his face. Gabriel can hear the scales around his mouth shifting to allow this expression. “I planned this hundreds of years before you were born, and I don’t appreciate you messing with my plans.”
Gabriel lunges. His sword creates a fiery arc through the air, but Lucien easily sidesteps his advance. “I expected better from you, though. You left her to fend for herself today. That’s poor manners, son. Who knows what could have happened to her?”
Gabriel fights back his growing fear. Does Lucien know something I don’t? Is Roseline really gone?
With a mighty roar, he spins and attacks. Lucien’s blade parries with ease, shifting to toss him off balance. He tsks and twirls again, beginning the beautiful dance of dueling swords. For every attack Gabriel makes, Lucien blocks and slips away.
“Stand still and fight me like a man,” Gabriel growls.
“Ah,” his father raises a finger as he moves around to face Gabriel. “But I am not a man. I never have been.”
“Then what are you?”
Gabriel braces for some sort of snide comment, but Lucien surprises him by lowering his sword. “I am the first among the Fallen Ones. The one who was first cast out. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
“Sorry, didn’t really care to spend much time thinking about you.”
Lucien growls and launches himself at Gabriel. When their blades clang together, tongues of fire drop from Gabriel’s sword. “Insolent boy. You are nothing to me. Do you honestly think your foolish little sword can defeat me?”
Gabriel grins. “Actually, I do.”
With a mighty shove, he pushes Lucien back and cuts his sword across Lucien’s stomach. His father’s haughty grin contorts into a grimace as the fire begins to spread. Like a match set to gasoline, it quickly eats away at his clothes.
Lucien stumbles backward, clawing at his chest as the flames rise higher. His screams turn to shrieks as he stares wildly at Gabriel. “What magic is this?”
Gabriel holds his sword aloft. “Only a Holy sword could take down something so wretched.”