by Tanith Frost
She sees us as monsters. She’s not wrong, but I don’t care.
I will not lie down and die again. And I will not allow her to take the monster I love from me.
Helena’s finger tightens on the trigger again as I launch myself at her, drawing on every bit of my strength, pushing my muscles to move faster than they’ve ever had to before, trusting that I haven’t ruined my dark power by allowing it to be changed. There’s nothing thoughtful or graceful about my approach. My only thought is to shift the course of her shot.
She turns her head as I move, spotting my attack, but she doesn’t alter her aim. Her weapon goes off as I hit her full force, sending her and the chair flying. Daniel darts sideways. He’s moving slowly enough that it might have hit him if she’d had a clean shot, but thanks to my clumsy impact, the stake hits the wall at the far end of the room hard enough that it splinters the plaster and sticks in place.
She recovers quickly, rising to her feet. Daniel is already headed for her, lips pulled back in a snarl, ready to finish what he started years ago. I stand down, ready to jump in if he needs me, but not wanting to distract him.
Helena slams the end of her cane against the floor. The tip splits, revealing a clean, sharp wooden stake covered in intricate silver patterns. She pulls it free, then tugs on the cane’s handle with her other hand, unsheathing a long dagger that she holds in an easy, familiar grip. The cane’s hollow core falls to the floor with a clatter.
She’s like a fucking hydra. Take away one weapon and two more grow back in its place.
She slashes at Daniel with the blade. He stops short, and her attack misses. His fist takes her in the jaw.
Even in his weakened state, that blow should leave her unconscious, or at least dazed, but it’s like she doesn’t feel it at all. She attacks again, leading with the knife, holding the stake in reserve for the finishing blow. Though she moves stiffly on her bad leg, she fights with the confidence and grace of a master.
She’s human, though, and no match for the experience, strength, and power of a vampire. Whatever illness or injury Daniel has been fighting seems forgotten in the moment. His eyes are sharply focused, his expression cold and determined. My stomach climbs to my throat as he dodges her blade and strikes at her again.
But she doesn’t fall. It’s as though she really is guided by a greater power as she dodges blows and shakes off the ones that hit her.
It’s no wonder her followers think she’s blessed by angels. She’s claimed God’s will is guiding her, and has given them no reason to doubt.
They don’t feel what I do, though. The air is thick with that strange power now, and I have no doubt that it’s protecting her against Daniel.
I also understand that it’s not the same as the light that I left behind when I became a vampire. This is no gift from what any human understands as God.
There’s a mortal being under that armour, if only we can strip her power away. And I know where it’s hiding.
The next time Daniel hits her, she steps back. I dart closer and grab the chain of her necklace, then yank hard enough that it snaps. The chain is real silver, and it burns a line into the palm of my hand.
Helena turns and snarls as I whip the pendant around by the chain and smash it as hard as I can against one of the thick wooden posts that hold up the roof. The stone shatters, and I release the chain. The necklace clatters to the floor.
Daniel grabs the dagger from Helena’s hand and then plunges it sideways into her throat. She lashes out with the stake, but can’t land a good blow. He pushes her away as he withdraws the blade, and blood spurts from the wound. She drops the stake and presses both hands to her throat as she drops to her knees and then to the floor.
The scent of hot—and, I suspect, unpoisoned—blood fills the room, and my mouth waters. It hurts me to watch it spilling onto the floor, but I hold my ground and watch as the flow slows. I need to see her die. Need to know our enemy is defeated.
Her hands fall away from her throat. Her breathing stops.
“You did it,” I tell Daniel.
“Excellent,” he whispers.
I turn to him. He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, as though to see for himself. Dark circles have formed under his eyes. He looks like a real corpse, drained of power and strength.
“Daniel, are you—”
He collapses, hitting the floor hard enough that the rafters shake.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I run to Daniel, all thoughts about the dead woman on the floor behind me forgotten. I roll him onto his back.
An unconscious vampire, especially one in Daniel’s current state, is no different from any other dead body. There’s no breath or pulse to check for, no reassuring warmth—and no dark power that I can feel. I smack his cheeks, unsure of what else to do to bring him back.
He doesn’t move. The only thing giving me hope is the fact that he’s not turning to dust before my eyes.
I force one of his eyes open. “Come on, Daniel. It’s almost sunrise. We’ve got to get out of here. Please. I’m not leaving without you.”
His bloodshot hazel eye focuses on me. “What—the necklace?” he asks. He sounds drugged. I guess he is.
I brush his hair back from his brow, then look toward the stairs. I’m going to have to drag him out of here. He’s burned himself out fighting and doesn’t look like he can so much as hold his head up. I don’t care. I’ll fight our way out and carry him piggyback all the way to St. John’s if I have to. I’m so relieved he’s survived this that I could cry. “I don’t know what that symbol means or where she got it, but that’s where the power was coming from. I’m guessing that’s how she defied death for so long. She wasn’t lying about having powerful protection against vampires. She just lied about where it came from. I very much doubt there are angels in the jewellery business.”
Daniel gives me a faint smile. “And she called us liars. At least we’re not claiming to be something we’re not.” He looks past me and his eyes widen. “Aviva, she’s—”
I don’t hear the end of his sentence. Something heavy hits me in the side of the head, sending me crashing to the floor. I roll away more out of instinct and training than any conscious decision, but land hard on my side. My ears are ringing, drowning out every other sound, throwing my balance off, and my cheek burns where silver hit me.
The pain of the impact is bone deep, like it rattled my skeleton.
I force my eyes open and pull myself up into a crouch, ready to fight.
Helena stands over Daniel with a heavy silver chain in each hand. She drops one onto his chest, pinning him to the floor, and wraps the end of it around his wrists.
Not that he could have fought anyway, but she’s covering her bases. The silver will sap his strength, or at least prevent his recovery.
“Stay,” she rasps. The red wound in her neck flexes with her words. It’s ugly, but it’s closed now. And though she looks pale and weak, Helena Slade is very much alive. She rises and steps toward me, carrying the other chain.
“Impossible,” I whisper, and glance at the broken necklace that still lies on the floor.
But Helena is in no mood for further discussion.
I glance up at the skylights. I can take her down again, but what good will it do me? I didn’t feed on her soldiers, and I’m not sick like Daniel is, but I’m getting weaker. Fire can’t burn forever, and my void power still needs blood.
I need her immobilized, and I need to get myself and Daniel out of here before sunrise.
I grit my teeth. Immobilized isn’t enough. This woman has hurt my friends, threatened my species, and tried to end me. She’s claimed her personal grudge as God’s mission and used tricks and false miracles to drag others along with her. I don’t want her captured. I want her dead, and for real this time.
The power faded when I broke the necklace. It weakened her long enough to let Daniel hurt her, maybe kill her, but here she stands. There has to be an angle I’m not seeing.
&n
bsp; She limps toward me. She’s looking at what has to be a visible burn mark on my face, considering it carefully. She knows our kind well enough to recognize this is unusual, but if she’s got questions, I’m not about to answer them.
She swings at me again and I dodge the attack, stumbling sideways. I’m still dizzy. I move away from her, pacing backward, drawing her away from Daniel.
My skin prickles. The sun is rising, and there’s nowhere to hide.
Helena looks like she’s happy to continue this slow chase around the room until I have the decency to burst into flames, though I have no doubt that putting a stake through my heart would be far more satisfying for the old hunter. She watches me with narrowed eyes, her chest rising and falling with deep, desperate breaths.
She’s weak. And, I think, terrified of the nameless monster she sees before her. Not Aviva. Not a being who questions her purpose, who doubts, who fears, who loves, who’s as desperate to survive as any human. I’m just another bloodthirsty killer to be brought down so she’ll feel a little safer sleeping at night.
I wonder whether she knows she’s my monster. My threat. My nightmare.
I move past her chair, back to the spot where she fell. The floor is still wet with her blood, as is the handle of her stake when I pick it up.
The silver filigree patterns cover the weapon from base to tip, and I take a sharp breath that hisses through my teeth. It feels like the flesh on my palm is melting into the wood.
No more hesitation.
I leap at her and hit her across the side of the head with the blunt end of the stake. She stumbles back, but doesn’t fall until I kick her legs out from under her.
She’s still moving slowly, probably from the blood loss, and she winces with every movement as though she’s in incredible pain. I’m not about to let myself feel sorry for her.
Her right sleeve pulls up as she hits the floor, revealing lines of thick scar tissue. She swings the chain at me. I lean back out of range as the bright metal flashes past my face, then drop on top of her, pinning her body beneath mine.
Another wave of dizziness washes over me.
I squeeze my eyes closed, just for a second. When I open them, I meet her gaze.
The life in her glows as bright as I’ve felt in any of the stock I’ve fed from at the Inferno, as bright as it burned in me when I lived, when it was so present that I never thought to be thankful for it. A gift. A blessing.
And such a fragile one.
I draw hard on my strange, transformed power and focus on the speed and precision of my movements. There’s no room for doubt. None for fear.
I raise my weapon and leap to my feet, dropping back into a crouch over her as I bring my arm down and plunge the silver-laced stake into the centre of her chest.
She opens her mouth, but the scream she releases is silent. Maybe pain like this—like what she’s unleashed on countless vampires over her decades of hunting—can’t be measured by sound. Her lips pull back from her teeth and her eyes go wide as her head whips from side to side and her body twists like it’s trying to free itself from a trap.
I wait for her to stop moving, but she won’t. She claws at the stake buried in her chest.
“Fucking die!” I scream.
She rolls her head toward me. A terrifying clarity comes into her eyes, sharp and aware. She seems to be trying to speak.
Her sleeves fall back again, and I catch a clearer glimpse of the scar.
Not a battle scar, but a knot of twisted lines.
I scramble away from her, searching frantically for the knife she pulled from her throat just a few minutes ago. I spot it on the floor near Daniel’s leg and rush toward it, stopping only to kick the chain off Daniel’s chest and unwrap it from around his wrists. The links sear thick, red lines into my skin, but I’m beyond caring about the pain.
Daniel’s skin bears no burn marks, but the silver has weakened him. Still, he rolls over, forcing himself to his hands and knees, sheltering his face from the creeping sunlight outside. He’ll be able to access his power now, but not quickly enough to save me from what I have to do.
“Stay down,” I tell him. “Or get out of here.”
I grab the dagger. Its handle is sticky with blood, and blessedly free of silver.
I stalk back toward Helena, who’s still wrestling with the stake. She pulls it free, and the sucking noise of her flesh releasing its hold on the wood turns my stomach.
She’s still breathing. Her heart must be in ruins, but her chest rises and falls in deep gasps. Then she stops and lies still. I can’t feel the life in her now.
If I hadn’t felt the power that’s keeping her alive, if I hadn’t recognized how different it is from the natural life of a human and the light I felt when I was alive, I might believe her lies about her divine mission. And if I didn’t still feel it humming through her, I would be making the same mistake others have before me, walking away, believing we’d won this battle.
Yes, she’s dead. But she won’t be for long.
I sink to my knees and grip her right hand hard in my left, lifting her arm to examine the scar. I press the blade of her dagger to her flesh.
Her eyes open wide, revealing terror that goes far deeper than the fear I saw in her when she faced me before.
When she still had a secret.
“No,” she gasps as she struggles to pull away.
I tilt the tip of the blade at her forearm and slice through the centre of the scar, dividing the symbol in two. Helena squirms and hits me with her other hand.
Another slash, this one dividing the loose knot into quadrants, severing the strands that hold this strange power.
She collapses back onto the floor, taking shallow breaths. “Evil will never win,” she whispers.
I dig the tip of the knife in deeper, cutting a portion of the scar free, and let the lump of flesh fall to the floor. My hands are covered in blood.
I feel nothing. I think nothing. There’s only the heat in my skin and the sick sensation of the sun sapping my strength, the silver burns on my aching hands and face, the duty before me.
She closes her eyes as the last piece of the scar falls to the floor. Her breath fades.
When I close my eyes and let myself fall into the depths of the void, I feel nothing. No weird power. No life.
Not good enough. I slice up the front of her shirt and expose her skin so I can examine every inch. I search for tattoos, for scars, for anything that looks like a magical symbol.
There’s nothing. She’s covered in scars that cross her skin like lines on a map, detailing every pain she suffered in her determination to rid the world of my kind. Her left leg is bent and twisted. I search every inch of her flesh, only vaguely aware of the indignity I’m imposing on this lifeless body. She’s tried to take everything from me. I don’t owe her anything.
I sit back and bury my face in my arms. My body feels heavy. If I had a soul, I suspect it would feel worse.
I’ve killed again. I’ve taken a life.
Daniel rests his hand on my shoulder. “We have to go. Is she—”
I nod without lifting my head. “There was a scar. It’s gone. She’s gone.”
He helps me to my feet, though he can barely stand. We lean on each other, looking down at the scarred, mangled body of our enemy.
“Tenacious bitch,” I mutter, and rest my head against Daniel’s arm. “She’s gone, but it doesn’t feel final yet.”
Daniel walks slowly toward the stairs leading to the dark bedroom below, and I follow. But he passes them, headed for the cabinets at the other end of the room. He opens them slowly, methodically, searching until he finds a massive axe that he drags back toward her. It obviously takes every shred of strength left in him, but he positions the blade carefully over her throat, then raises it high over his head.
I don’t watch as it falls, but the sound of metal biting into wood sends a wave of relief through me.
It’s over. The monsters have won.
&nb
sp; For now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I don’t make it to the bed downstairs.
My feet won’t quite carry me that far. I stumble and let my body collapse to the carpeted floor, then push myself up and turn to lean against the side of the mattress. I close my eyes and focus on the softness of the comforter against my cheek, ignoring the fact that I’ve just murdered the last person to sleep under it.
I want to sleep for at least a month, to feed from virgin stock, to get laid and have a fantastic cup of coffee, in that order if possible. Anything that will build me back up, recharge my power, and make me feel something.
Daniel sits beside me, and I force my eyes open. My hands are resting on my crossed legs, and his dangle over his knees. Drying blood streaks our skin.
I relax into my power, observing it without trying to control it. It’s still there, though I can barely feel it. Hints of bright gold remain, diffused through the dark depths of my void power, flowing through me. There’s no scar. No heat.
And there’s no going back. I could no more rebuild the dam that held the fire back than I could will my skeleton to separate itself from my body.
And right now, I don’t care. My power feels at peace as I let its darkness cleanse and restore me. I’ll be weak until I feed, but I will survive.
Daniel and I don’t speak as we rest in the darkness, waiting for our strength to recover. There’s no need. I suspect we’re thinking about the same things.