The Bonded (30 page)

As his words trail off, the doubtful waer locks eyes with Quilici, nonverbally communicating that he has made a decision. He bows his head in respect then shifts attention to his friend, saying, “I will not fight you, brother, and I cannot in good conscience kill him without a hearing. Deadly force was only to be utilized if there was equal resistance; it was never a death sentence. The rules are being stretched to accommodate an agenda and I will not be a part of it.”

There’s a minute of dismay when I decide to get things started. I reach into my inner coat, grab the hilt of Angeion, and unsheathe it from the scabbard, the sharp zing of metal vibrating the air. With hatred leaking from my mouth, I say, “I’m tired of this shit. Who wants to die first?”

The foreplay is officially over and the remaining waer ferociously jumps on Quilici, flailing his arms like a kid in his first fight. Quilici is cool and collected from years of battle experience and rolls back, kicking him off with a powerful thrust and sending the young waer helplessly in the air. The waer gains a semblance of control and lands on his shoulder with a crack as ligaments rearrange themselves in response. To his credit, there is no cry of pain as he skids carelessly to a halt and indolently stands with his useless limb hanging limp to his side. While he is recovering from amateur hour, one of the vamps charges in with more finesse and sword raised to finish what the young waer started.

I shift focus to the remaining two vamps that are already circling me as vultures over a carcass. I hope their thinking is premature. I place both hands on the hilt and raise Angeion with my wrist to a vertical position with the top of the blade barely over my head. With a breath of relaxation, I put all the concentration I can muster into the fight and execute the only strategy that I like… offense!

I begin with the one behind me, knowing they would expect the opposite, and shift so quickly that she stumbles backward from the surprise. I take advantage of the misstep with a flurry of thrusts and lunges that would have made Seth proud. She is just competent enough with a sword to scarcely block each attack with befuddled parries, but I can see the fear dance across her eyes. In a reaction to instinct, I arch my back, feeling the prickly breeze created by the other vamp’s sword that was meant to render me disabled for a couple of months. I mule kick as a response and feel his ribs crack while he is launched in the other direction, surprised from an attack that didn’t utilize the sword. Now I know the weakness of their training. They only prepare for attacks from other vamps or waers, never with someone outside of their culture.

By this time the female has somewhat recovered, perspiration starting to gather around her hairline. She swipes with all she has straight down, trying to split me open. My natural speed is so much superior that I easily avoid the strike, moving to the side and twisting around and gaining momentum for my own attack. I scowl with blood lust, injecting more strength behind the move, and feel the skin and bone separate as her head wobbles for a moment then falls to the ground. The scent is too much to bear and I grab her headless body and drink her spewing blood like I’m parched at a water fountain in the park. Her blood is nectar, sweeter than a human’s and more invigorating as my body hardens in preparation of more.

With her lifeless body smoldering and twitching on the gravel, I look to my opponent with crazed lust, wondering how to crack that shell to drink his blood too. He is nothing, not a person or an animal; he is only food… and I’m starving.

Quilici has already killed his vampire with a tight squeeze that literally popped his brain from his head. It was a show of physical power that was meant to deter his young waer from any further aggression, but was lost on misguided loyalty. The waer had already healed enough from the shoulder wound to resume his attack and Quilici lets him assert himself. I’ve seen many accomplished warriors fight similarly. They fight with defensive patience, frustrating their aggressive opponents until a fatal mistake is made and capitalized upon. Quilici blocks and counters every white-belt move the other waer has practiced and is now disastrously attempting. It’s a master versus novice and I see the regret and sorrow in Quilici’s eyes that he will have to kill this one.

In rehearsed fashion, the waer does a simple combination of moves and Quilici accepts one slice, fawning with pain. Smelling the victory, he runs in for a killing blow and realizes at the last moment it was a setup, and he has been had. The rest only takes a couple of seconds as Quilici uses his claws to slice open his stomach, letting the entrails slide out, and with his other hand, severs his esophagus as air and blood shoot out, never to return. Quilici watches sadly as the young one falls to his knees and then face first into the blood-soaked gravel.

I return to my situation and find the vampire panting heavily with concern. I stare into him and say, “Don’t worry; it’s just you and me.” I could pull out some electricity, or maybe some wind, but I’m afraid it will drain me before the real fight begins so I stick to swordplay as my only strategy.

He starts this time with a lethargic attack and I am more than capable of avoiding it with his friend’s blood coursing through my veins. I catch his anxiety when I let slip from my control a small spark that runs from my hand to the tip of Angeion. In that moment he hesitates and I make a bold thrust with a swiping low leg kick as he crumples to the ground off balance and vulnerable. As I make a full circle, my sword follows, missing his neck by a centimeter, but severing his sword hand at the wrist. His look is fear mingled with resignation as he says, “You will never see her again! They will…”

I ram the sword through his mouth to shut him up and withdraw it as fresh thin blood steadily drips from the edges. I know it isn’t enough, so I slit his throat and watch in pleasure when he struggles to cover the wound with his remaining hand while slowly bleeding to death. I glance over to Quilici, squinting through the smoke and ashes as they mix in the stagnate air, and hear him say, “This is only the beginning. Here they come.” He nudges his enormous head, pointing me in the direction of the third house so I can watch as Cassius steps into full view with earned confidence.

Behind him, walking around the corner, is Seth, Franz, Reuben, and finally, about a dozen more vampires join him in a crescent shape that emulates the houses around them. We are not surrounded because there is no need. They know we’ll not be retreating.

I say with venom on my tongue, “Let her go, Cassius!”

A soft laughter billows from his loser minions, and with a hand gesture from Cassius, they instantly cut it off. He replies, “No more games, Adriel. If you will surrender right now, I will make his
and
her death quick and painless, but if you decide that a futile challenge to all of us is in order, then they will die in tremendous agony.” His smile begins to slither upwards, delighting at the thought, and I look over to Quilici for confirmation.

He corrects his slouch, assuming the posture of an Alpha, and says, “I’m with you, Adriel. A waer dies in battle, not as a coward!”

I shift my focus back to Cassius and whisper through my teeth, “I’m going to kill you.”

His smile reacts in disbelief that someone would actually defy him or even threaten him in public. He snarls, “Seth, you may beat him to his last breath, but no more. Reuben, kill your pathetic, dethroned leader.”

To my surprise, Reuben warily approaches Quilici, giving him a fighter’s respect, and says, “I’ve spent the last hundred years in your service, Quilici, and take no pleasure in killing you this night, but make no mistake; the orders have been given and you will be exterminated.” He hulks over Quilici by about three or four inches up
and
across and has no signs of pre-battle anxiety. It’s just business, but very, very serious business.

Quilici considers his words and sighs at Reuben’s determination, knowing it would be impossible to utilize mediation at this point, so he says, “I understand, Reuben. Let this begin.” He growls so deeply that his throat vibrates in response. They start to circle each other, feeling for timing and distance to ensure they don’t overextend or create an opening for an advantage. Reuben is the initiator, diving into Quilici and wrapping his gorilla arms around his waist and pressing his shoulder into Quilici’s stomach to knock the wind out of him. They scrape the ground, slashing and grunting in a no-holds-barred fight so raw and powerful that all of us pause for a moment in fearful appreciation.

I refocus, searching for Seth, and find him directly in front of me, holding a poker face that has only one tell, an arrogant disdain buried deep within his eyes. With sword already unsheathed, he lowers the tip in slow motion, stopping an inch above the greening grass, and says, “Are you ready for your final lesson, Adriel?”

I have no clever comeback. We both know he’s the superior swordsman, so I dismiss the conversation and get to it, relying on speed and luck for survival. I fling myself to him so quickly that he lives only due to his immense skill and experience. I chop down while flipping over his head. He wastes no time in admiration and reacts by dodging and then lunges for my heart.

There’s no banter or words to fill awkward silences—we just fight. Swords are clinging, gravel is thrown from shuffling feet, and we move together in a ruthless dance to death. He moves in for a disabling thrust to end this expeditiously, but I can see his movements in high definition, just slightly slower than real time, so I adjust my weight to my back foot and reverse swipe, slicing his chest from left hipbone to right shoulder. His shirt is absorbing the blood and turning a darker shade of red as he retreats to evaluate the injury.

I know that this may be the only window of opportunity, so I charge in while he pats his chest making certain no vital organs have spilled out. I bring down Angeion with enough force to slice through his thick bones, but he moves to the side, avoiding my effort and rewarding me with a fist to the jaw. His eyes are burning with enmity now. His chest is healing, but his pride sports a fresh wound. I know I have just emancipated him from restrictions.

He strikes blow after blow in a flurry of combinations that leave me panting from exertion. He slashes through my Achilles heel with a low cut and turns, slicing a line parallel to my spinal cord the entire length of my back. I arch in pain, fall forward to a modified shoulder roll, and fortuitously land on my feet, grimacing with pain. He feints, then lunges, lacerating my cheek with one move and slicing my neck with his hardened fingernails. I’m bleeding profusely from multiple injuries and fall to my knees. My defenses are unraveled, my arms are too heavy, and I just don’t have the time to generate my other gifts. He approaches slowly, savoring the moment, and raises his sword with unhurried pleasure.

I wince, readying myself for the last blow and to the left I see Quilici and Reuben bloodied and bruised from a hard-fought battle as two juggernauts collide. Reuben grabs his throat preparing to feast on Quilici’s neck when Quilici straightens his elongated fingers and shoves them, claw first, into Reuben directly under his ribcage. Wet and sticky sounds of fingers probing through intestines penetrate the silent air and Quilici’s eyes widen with jubilant discovery. I hear a snap and then a pull, and Reuben’s eyes fade from bright yellow to mocha as Quilici raises his hand, cupping a still-beating heart. He lets out a bellowing roar that sounds more animal than human while crushing the heart in his powerful jaws, letting the delicate tissue string through his sharp teeth. The blood squirts out both sides in a jet stream, spraying his wild hair with dark red and creating modern art on the gravel.

The scent hits all of us with such force that gulps and lip smacking are warning me of a feeding frenzy. The vampires don’t bother pulling their swords out because their hunger can only be satisfied with their teeth. Cassius yells a command. “Control yourselves!” It’s too late, as they begin stalking over to Quilici for their midnight meal.

I regain my composure, return to Seth, wondering why I’m not dead or unconscious, and discover that even one as old as he still falls victim to the alluring pull of blood. His face contorts, untamed with savage hunger, and I realize that I won’t survive this. He’s going to kill me. So I close my eyes and welcome death, knowing Percy will soon follow. I hear a swish as his sword cuts through the air and Cassius screaming a hapless “NO” in the background when the ring of metal striking metal stings my ears. In confusion, I open my eyes to find his sword an inch from my nose, blocked by another. Seth speedily jumps back to a safe distance and Bryn says, “You didn’t think I’d miss this party, did you, mate?” I grin and simply nod a thank you while he reaches out, grabbing my hand, and pulls me up while I stagger on one foot with the other dangling from a sliced tendon that is lethargically healing due to other wounds. There is no time wasted; he turns to face his opponent.

Seth says, “You should have kept out of this, Bryn. I was content to let you live until the burn took you naturally, but now you have forced my hand.
And
if I’m being honest, I’ll enjoy this.”

Bryn responds, “
Let me live?
I’m afraid that you may be delusional, my young student.” He slides away from me, intentionally giving me time to recover, and reaches into his long coat… surprise, surprise, another sword. Seth’s countenance shifts from confidence to apprehension as Bryn drags both swords centimeters from the gravel and suddenly raises them in a swirling blur of silver, launching a precision attack. With Seth occupied, I peer over to Quilici and my heart pounds with a shot of adrenaline as vampires are biting and tearing at him in a twist of irony as they play the part of wolves and he the prey. Quilici is shaking, his legs and arms trying to sling them loose. It’s total chaos and his screaming is a death rattle when he falls to one knee, depleted of the will to fight, but that’s when we hear it.

A high-pitched roar punctures the night immediately followed by a female waer that jumps out of the edge of darkness into the battle. It’s Stella! She tears at the vampires feeding on Quilici, pounding their heads with closed fists and clawing through skin with her clawed feet. She is a whirlwind of rage, kicking up dust mixed with fresh blood, making the scene even more confusing.