Blood Shadows (36 page)

As if the act of taking blood was not enough, she suddenly felt a sharp stab against her neck and instinctively knew that Ramsey was injecting her with venom even as she was feeding from his wrist: He was working to heal her injuries.

Deanna gathered her courage, summoned that all-pervasive innate will to live, and forced her body to relax, to continue to take—and receive—what Ramsey was giving her. All the while, she watched with rapt fascination, and more than a little fear, as her new brothers faced off with the Dark One who had tried to take her life.

Nathaniel faced Saber Alexiares head-on, even as Marquis flanked him from the rear, both appearing as if they could kill him with their eyes alone. Their bodies were primed, eyes focused, muscles twitching, each waiting for the enemy to make the first move.

Saber was as calm as a cucumber. “Haven’t we met before?” he asked, his weight shifting to his back foot as if he were simply copping a leisurely lean. He smiled a grin of pure derision.

Marquis’s eyes lit up with recognition and a frown creased his brow. “In the valley by the snake river…when the Lycans attacked outside the old cabin.”

Saber shrugged then. “Ah, yes.” He turned to eye Nathaniel. “I believe I met your wife.” He snickered. “She stroked my hair and whispered sweet nothings in my ear before that blond animal tried to have his way with her. Pity I didn’t have a chance to get to know her better.”

Nathaniel didn’t respond.

He didn’t even move, not even a twitch.

He just stared blankly ahead, and the complete absence of emotion on his face was far more frightening than any overt display of rage could have ever been. It was like watching a calculated robot—something that contained neither reason nor emotion—like death on two feet, simply waiting to strike.

Deanna winced.

Saber turned to Marquis then. “And you—you mated an original princess. Hmm, interesting. We did enjoy her visit in the colony, by the way. I hear she spent a delicious amount of time in the chamber of snakes—offering her body to the cobras for Salvatore’s amusement. If you ask me, the male is a couple cards shy of a full deck, but then, who am I to understand the mind of a sorcerer?” As he spoke, he very subtly rotated his body so that both of the Silivasi brothers were in his forward line of sight as opposed to surrounding him. His eyes took in his full surroundings—the placement of the other warriors, the carefully hidden weapons concealed in the warrior’s cloaks—and Deanna got the distinct impression that Saber Alexiares was neither insane nor maniacal but very,
very
calculated and intelligent.
Why don’t they just attack him?
she wondered.

Connected to her by physical touch as he was, Ramsey Olaru apparently heard her thoughts.
It’s a very delicate dance
, he whispered in her mind.
Saber may be from the house of Jaegar, and thus, an inferior-trained warrior, but he is Vampyr, which makes him extremely
dangerous. Not only can he render himself invisible, but if he moves faster than Marquis or Nathaniel, he could possibly dematerialize before they can anchor him
with a diamond collar, get hold of
a vital organ,
or bleed him out to
the
point of weakness.
It would be unheard of for a Dark One to retreat from a battle—regardless
of the odds stacked against him. They are much too arrogant, but one never knows…

Your brothers want only to fight. To kill.
They are waiting for that chance.

Deanna shivered at the thought, wondering if Nachari was anything like his brothers. Before she could contemplate the question further, she saw the slightest of movement in Marquis’s body—his left pectoral muscle twitched. “Do the cowards in the house of Jaegar always stand around and talk?” he asked, his voice thick with contempt. “Here in house of Jadon, we prefer to fight.”

Saber smiled broadly then. “Yeah,” he agreed, “hotheads one and all.” And then he flicked his wrist outward, sending a searing bolt of fire from the tips of his fingertips directly at Marquis’s chest.

As the Master Warrior deflected the flame with his hands, sending it back in Saber’s direction, the Dark One flew into the air in a calculated backflip, missed the arc of the flame, and landed on his feet behind Marquis. His hand shot out in a targeted effort to puncture Marquis’s chest from behind and grasp at his heart, but Marquis moved too quickly. He spun to the left, threw a lightning-quick punch with the spiked cestus, and landed it squarely against Saber’s jaw before the enemy could move out of the way. Saber’s jaw cracked audibly as he launched backward as a result of the punch. He shook his head furiously to diffuse the blow, and immediately flew back into the fray. Nathaniel met his approach with a sustained spray of silver-tipped bullets, emptying the clip in his AK-47.

Saber deflected each bullet with the ease of a camper swatting away a swarm of flies before they could land and do any damage. Nathaniel tossed the gun aside, launched into the air, and leapt on the Dark One’s back, wrenching his neck in an unnatural position even as Marquis plunged a hidden dagger into the center of Saber’s gut and began to twist the blade. Saber struck back with a fury, connecting a high, balanced kick with the Master Warrior’s jaw and following it with an immediate strike to the groin. One, two, three lightning-quick strikes followed, all connecting with Marquis’s manhood. As Marquis doubled over in pain, Saber grasped both of Nathaniel’s hands by the small pinky fingers on the end, rotated his wrists outward to break both digits at the carpal ligaments, and freed himself from the choke hold. He immediately flipped Nathaniel over his shoulder, slammed his body hard into the ground, and pinned him down beneath iron, contracting thighs.

Nathaniel’s eyes became two focused beams of light—red, lethal lasers boring a deep, horizontal incision into the Dark One’s forehead, cauterizing toward his brain, but incredibly, Saber ignored the pain. Blood dripping into his eyes, he plunged a set of deadly claws into Nathaniel’s chest, breaking several ribs upon entry, and tunneled toward the heart. Nathaniel grasped Saber’s arm with both fists and wrenched in opposite directions, snapping the bone in half like a mere twig.

Saber grunted in pain as he withdrew his arm.

His hand hung limp at the end of his wrist, but he didn’t stop fighting. Lunging forward, he dove at Nathaniel’s jugular. As horrible fangs sank deep, he snarled in a crazed effort to tear Nathaniel’s throat out.

Nathaniel’s left fist slammed against the back of Saber’s head, over and over in quick succession, like a jackhammer, even as he fought to gouge at the Dark One’s eyes with his free thumb. While the two vampires struggled for advantage, Marquis crawled to a nearby mountain pine, ripped the tree out by the roots, and sprang to his feet, ignoring the pain in his groin. In the space of an instant, he brought it behind his shoulders like a baseball bat and swung. The resounding whack was deafening, stunning the Dark One stupid for a moment before he collapsed on Nathaniel’s chest.

Slithering out from under his heavy body, Nathaniel crouched low on his feet and watched as the Dark One who had tried to kill Kristina and Deanna slowly slumped to the ground, landing on his side. Marquis kicked him over onto his back and squatted down beside Nathaniel. The dagger Marquis had stabbed Saber with was still protruding out of his stomach, and Marquis took the blade by the hilt and removed it. Reaching into his waistband, he tossed another matching dagger to Nathaniel and nodded. “You take the head, while I remove the heart.”

Nathaniel removed the blade from the scabbard, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wide grin of anticipation. “My pleasure.”

As the two warriors began to wield the sharpened blades in unison, the sky grew at once overcast, and a faint but discernible wind swept through the air. As Deanna looked up, she had to blink several times in order to understand what she was seeing.

Descending from the sky like a warring angel from heaven was a powerful, stately male with burnished skin, chiseled features, both handsome and fearsome at the same time, and long silver-and-black hair, which whipped about his face like a medieval halo.

“Wait.”

One word.

The male spoke one word, and both Marquis and Nathaniel released their blades, bent to one knee, and bowed their heads.

Who was this guy?

The male strolled forward with the authority of one who owned the entire world—no, the entire universe—and held out what looked like several diamond-studded collars.

“Milord?” Nathaniel asked, looking at the collars skeptically.

“We will question him before we kill him,” the male said in an imperious voice. He wasn’t asking. He was telling.

Marquis visibly wilted. He was clearly biting back his anger in an effort to show obedience. “Milord, this Dark One attacked our sisters…my first mate. The right of blood vengeance is ours.”

The handsome vampire nodded his head, his eyes strong with compassion yet determined. “Indeed, Marquis,” he responded in an almost lyrical voice, “but it is time that we make an example out of our enemy for all to see.” He handed the diamond-studded bands to Marquis and glared at the vampire on the ground. “Bring him to the Chamber of Torture—The Blood is not the only power around here capable of exacting a pound of flesh. We will get whatever information we desire out of him, and then we will stake him to a post in the Red Canyon on the Sunday after this next and feed him to the sun, so that even those cowards hiding underground in the colony will hear his screams and know his agony.”

Nodding his understanding, Marquis took the bands from the male’s hand and began to affix them around Saber’s throat, ankles, and wrists.

Nathaniel sat back and watched. “This is the male who saved Jocelyn that day in the shed. From the Lycans.” He shook his head in disgust. “I told her he had no soul.”

The vampire nodded and turned to eye his surroundings. “Kristina?” he asked.

A vampire with light, ash-colored hair stood up from his place about fifteen feet away, where he knelt beside the thin redhead’s body. “She’s still unconscious, but she will live,” he said, answering the king.

“And she will be questioned,” the king said.

“And throttled as soon as she gets better,” Marquis grumbled.

The king placed a firm hand on Marquis’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. “Debriefed, Marquis—not throttled. She is young and new to our ways. And no match for the cunning of a Dark One. No doubt, she will feel tremendous shame and remorse.”

He released Marquis’s shoulder and took a step toward Deanna then. Instinctively, Deanna stepped back.

“Greetings, Ms. Dubois-Silivasi. I am Napolean.”

He held out his hand as he approached even closer, and Deanna just stared at it. As ridiculous as it was to consider her appearance at this moment, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious—she was standing before the sovereign leader of the house of Jadon in a torn bikini, with puncture holes in her neck and bloodstains around her mouth; and her knees were literally knocking together.

She swallowed, pushed a clump of matted hair away from her eyes, and wiped her hand against her thigh to remove some dirt. “Hi.” The word came out hoarse, so she tried again. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Napolean held her hand for a second longer than was customary and then gently released it, giving her the distinct impression that he had taken something from her mind. Perhaps her memories…or information about Nachari? “Thank you for your commitment to the Master Wizard, Nachari. What you have done—coming here to Dark Moon Vale of your own accord—took tremendous courage, and we are all praying that the gods will smile upon both of you for your kindness. I am sorry you had to go through such a horrible ordeal tonight.”

Deanna nodded. Or at least she thought she did. The male was simply too intimidating, even for a confident woman like her. Jocelyn had previously mentioned that there was just something about Napolean Mondragon—something that made a person want to take off running in the opposite direction—and now, Deanna understood completely. “You’re welcome,” she managed to reply.

With that, Napolean seemed satisfied. Turning to face the sentinels, he said, “Saxson, you and Santos remove the prisoner and take him to the holding cell outside the Chamber of Sacrifice and Atonement. I want him carefully guarded at all times. Ramsey, take Kristina back to the clinic so Kagen can attend to her, and then gather the warriors in my conference room to discuss a defensive strategy. We must be prepared in the event that the Dark Ones attempt to come after their missing soldier. Marquis”—he turned to face the Ancient Master Warrior—“you and Nathaniel accompany Kristina and Deanna to the clinic and debrief everyone, including Braden, thoroughly. I want to know everything that has happened these last weeks, since the Dark One began impersonating Ramsey. If you must, view each person’s memories firsthand—I want to know
exactly
what was going on inside of Kristina’s head and why the Dark One chose her as a target. No one’s
destiny
is to venture out without an escort until I say otherwise. Understood?”

“As you wish, milord,” Nathaniel answered.

Marquis nodded his head. “Trust me; we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

As the vampire with the ash-colored hair, the one called Saxson, joined Ramsey and the other warriors, Deanna couldn’t help but stare at the redheaded girl still lying limp in his arms. She took a long measured look at Kristina and all her many bruises, and winced.
Holy cow
, she thought.
Could
we
have come any closer to dying tonight?

Suddenly, all of her certainty and conviction—deciding to come to Dark Moon Vale; trusting her instincts to go forward with the conversion; even waiting anxiously, if not somewhat fearfully, for Nachari to return—came into question. And she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

More lost and confused.

What in the world had she gotten herself into?