The Chalice (Luna Vampire Series) (32 page)

             
"Quit sniveling and fight!" she boomed, hovering nearby.  "You need to land a couple blows, send me home with a modest amount of damage, or uncle won't believe we played fair."

             
Rage spiking.
 
Lungs burning.
  I refused to give up as I inched forward onto my knees and tried to right myself.
  Fuck that evil skank!  If she thought I was simply gonna roll over and die, she had another thing coming.
  Nevertheless, to my second wind's discredit, I slipped in the blood that'd begun pooling beneath me, falling flat on my ass once again.

             
"Oh, cousin, you're quite entertaining!" Isabella sniggered, bursting into more of her incessant cackling.
 
"Alas, we must end this.  I guess I'll command one of my guards punch me.  You're so damn pitiful; you hardly deserve to be called
vampire
."

             
Shortly thereafter, she brandished her sword high above her head and smirked at me arrogantly.
  The prelude to my demise.
  Then the blade descended in slow motion, crunching past my rib cage and piercing my heart with a single blow. 

             
In short order, I knew its abysmal ache.  I languished in life's liquid energy, feeling it drip in crimson beads from my mouth.  And I understood the finality of my last breath, the immortal regret over my unfulfilled destiny.  In the end, my death was accompanied by her laughter, a superfluous declaration that she'd won. 
She'd bested me.

             
Moments later, I shoved the façade into the bitch's mind, exactly like I'd done with William back at high court.  And, almost instantaneously, fabricated pride saturated her gaze.  Readily leaping at the opportunity, my instincts took control and I plunged my sword into her heart.  I moved quickly, snatching the larger weapon from her grasp and tossing it out of reach.  Then, with a bit of struggling, I stood on trembling legs while my vanquished enemy collapsed to her knees. 
Wordless.
 
Face ashen.

             
I remembered Lucien mentioning the necessity of removing both the head and heart.  Unfortunately, I had no knowledge of how to accomplish the task or properly use a blade for that matter.  So, I held my sword baseball bat style and swung with every ounce of remaining energy.  And, as it turns out, I didn't need to put forth that much effort. 
I guess my new vamp strength was good for a few things.

             
As a result, her head bounced off her neck effortlessly, plopping onto the floor with a wet thud before rolling several feet away.  At the same time, blood spurted from her gaping wound and her twitching body crumpled, causing my tequila filled stomach to lurch.  Regardless, the familiar pounding in my temples increased to a new plateau.  A signal that my energy was running dangerously low. 
C'mon, stay stopped a little longer! 

             
With shaking hands, I hastily moved around to each of Isabella's guards. 
Stabbing hearts and lopping off heads. 
The consequent sickening smell of vampire blood permeated my very being, even when I breathed through my mouth.  It seared my subconscious, letting me know that I'd endure nightmares of this horrific scene for the rest of my life.  And, despite Lucien's information about their hearts needing to be removed, I didn't have it in me. 
Too much blood already.  I only hoped that a skewering would be sufficient.

             
And so, I hurriedly exited the bar, leaving my sword behind as I was unable to continue carrying its weight.  The cool night air nipped at my blood drenched body and, after barely a dozen steps, I was forced to release my hold over the world. 
I'd drained every last ounce of energy from my system.
  Nonetheless, I staggered forward on quivering knees until I finally made it to the hotel's front doors.  And that's when Lucien found me.

             
"Girlie, where are you injured?" he asked, voice panic stricken as he looked me up and down.

             
"I ran into Isabella, she cut me pretty bad," I groaned as I motioned to the bleeding gashes on my hand, shoulder, and neck.  "We have to go, though, I'm not sure if she brought more guards with her.  They could be out here watching us as we speak."  Refusing to waste any more precious time with words, I shoved the memory of what'd just transpired into his mind.

             
Immediately, his eyes grew large with recognition.  "You're correct, we must depart at once.  We're
all
in grave danger..."

Chapter
22

             
Lucien wrapped his arm around my shoulders, steadying me, while we walked through the hotel's large glass doors.  I barely had the strength to keep myself moving, although I still found the mental wherewithal to cringe at the scrutinizing glances coming from the line of nondescript travelers checking in at the front desk. 

             
Hastily perceiving my embarrassment, he hugged me protectively against his chest.  "It's okay, we're almost to the elevator.  Keep walking," he soothed.  And then, in a voice that carried, he shouted, "She's been in a car accident.  No worries.  Ignore us and go on about your business."

             
Regrettably, his mind mojo wasn't nearly as effective as Isabella's.  Our audience didn't hurriedly return to their affairs.  In fact, many of them stared at us even more.  Nevertheless, their faces did shift from appalled horror to disgusted annoyance. 
A sign that they'd accepted his explanation of the car accident at least.

             
Hopefully it'd be enough to stop 'em from calling the cops.  Either way, the authorities were sure to track me down at some point.  I mean, as we moved, I literally left behind a trail of blood.
  A crimson line connecting me with the pile of decapitated bodies at the bar.
  It'd only be a matter of time before people started asking questions.

             
"Oh, shit!  Ouch!" I yelped, holding onto my hand as I simultaneously trembled in agony. 

             
"Come on, keep going," Lucien coaxed, pulling me into the elevator.  "I realize you're injured but we must move.  A couple more steps."

             
"Crap!  I know, it's just that..."  Head spinning, I paused to inspect my fingers.  Strangely, other than the gash across my palm, nothing seemed wrong with them.  My pinky, which throbbed like it'd been severed, appeared to be perfectly normal. 
Okay, maybe I was going crazy.  Sigh.

             
So, with Lucien's help, I stepped into the elevator.  He pushed the button for our floor, while I tried to blink back the pain and catch my breath.  Then, right as the bell signaled that we were on our way up, I got a really bad feeling.  This was above and beyond what I already felt from being stabbed multiple times.  It permeated my consciousness down to the deepest level of my soul. 
Death.

             
"Lucien," I mumbled, examining him with hazy eyes.  "Um, I'm a little out of it.  But, uh, I'm getting an awful vibe."

             
He nodded in agreement, however, his attention remained centered upon my wounds.  "Yeah, the shit just hit the fan.  Here, I better take a look at..."

             
"My finger," I panted, interrupting him by holding my blood-soaked hand close to his face.  "And stuff's going weird in my head.  It's like I'm dying."

             
"Try clinching your fist, it'll slow the bleeding," he instructed, prior to ripping a piece of fabric from his t-shirt and fastening it tightly around the gash on my shoulder.  "Your neck's clotted.  It's superficial."

             
"Seriously, I don't think this is from blood loss.  It's something else.  I can't quite..."
Oh my God!  And I instantly knew; it was Amelia! 
"C'mon on you goddamned elevator!" I screamed, shaken to my core. "C'mon!"

             
"Amelia's in trouble?"

             
"Yeah, it's definitely her."  My heartbeat pounded as I sensed her strength slipping away.  She was losing blood, fading from this existence.
We had very little time...

             
And so, I waited impatiently as the elevator completed its journey and the doors gradually slid open.  Then I summoned every last ounce of remaining energy and ran dead-on toward our suite.  I vaguely recollect Lucien yelling, warning me to let him enter first.  Regardless, his words didn't register.  All I could feel was that small life, that life for which I was responsible, sucking in its final breath.

             
Sprinting, I arrived to find our room's door ajar and burst in without breaking pace.  Although, when I saw the living room's horrific scene, I lurched to a halt.  Chills promptly slithered along my spine and I thought I might toss my cookies. 
Amelia, my poor sweet Amelia.
 

             
She lay lifeless on the couch. 
Pinkie finger missing.  Blood everywhere.
  I took in her ashen skin, a sharp contrast to her red flannel shirt, as I examined her chest.  My eyes prayed for the slightest movement, even the smallest signal of her breathing. 
And I saw nothing.

             
Adding fuel to the fire, Dawn was situated to her left.  She wore the same dingy club clothes she'd arrived in earlier that day, except now they were coated in congealing blood from a jagged cut that extended across the entire front of her neck.  Deceivingly, her blue-tinged lips parted into a peaceful expression, while the fresh mascara streaks glistening on her colorless cheeks told the real tale. 
Her death had been a painful one.  She'd been afraid.

             
"They're dead," an irritatingly familiar male voice drawled from behind me.

             
Immediately about-facing, I saw William and Petrus standing side-by-side.  The smug looks on their faces accompanied their pretentious black suit and red tie uniforms flawlessly. 
Fucking William!
  Of course, he was up to his elbows in this macabre chain of events.  And, Tsedaka, well, he'd probably sent Isabella to hunt me down in the first place. 
That sceezy bastard!

             
Just then, before I could take action, Lucien placed himself between me and our attackers.  He brandished his pocketknife, holding it like a sword.  After which, he discharged a menacingly guttural growl as his fangs extended.  The kind, boyish face I'd grown comfortable with morphed easily into one of a ruthless killer ready to trade his life for mine.

             
Despite everything spiraling out of control, one goal presented itself above all others. 
And that was saving Amelia's life.
  So, I ran to her and felt the nonexistent pulse at her neck.  She wasn't breathing, yet her skin retained its warmth which meant she hadn't been unconscious for long.  As a result, I fiercely dug my trembling fingernails into the partially clotted wound on my palm. 
Bleed, you piece of shit!  Bleed!

             
Wasting no time, I leaped onto the couch and lifted Amelia into my lap.  And, yeah, I know this sounds disgusting but, as I did it, Dawn's body slipped forward and gurgled loudly.
Air escaping her lungs.
 
Jeesh.
  Nonetheless, I grimaced only briefly prior to repositioning Amelia's head so that my blood would be able to trickle down her throat unhindered. 

             
"As I said, they're dead," William grunted, attempting to delay the progress of my half-baked scheme.  "You can't change her, princess.  She's too far gone."

             
"Screw off!" I snapped, hating him with every bone in my body.  Granted, my understanding of  vamp life was rather limited, being newly made and all.  Still, I had to try my best to save her.  And I definitely wouldn't believe that creep. 
He was a total liar.
 

             
The memory of dancing for him at the club and our consequent sexual attraction, caused me to shudder.  I despised my own foolishness, my ridiculous acceptance of his phony act. 
Perhaps Isabella'd been right, maybe I was nothing more than a naïve little girl...

             
"Princess," Petrus interjected apologetically.  "It wasn't our intention to kill your slave.  We merely wanted to learn your location.  The unsanctioned one's life, on the other hand, had to be terminated per the king's instructions."

             
"So what?  It's okay to take a life if the stupid
king
orders it?  And it's acceptable to have done this to Amelia seeing that you only
intended
on torturing
her? 
You sick sons of bitches!
  You cut off her finger and let her die in a puddle of her own blood." 
Plus, why'd they keep calling me princess?  I mean, they knew I abhorred being referred to by the pompous title the old man forced upon me.