The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three! (7 page)

              She was at peace, comfortable even.  It was like slipping into a dream.  Her body longed to succumb to the warmth, let it consume her, but her mind screamed that it was wrong.  Her mind felt the pain through the numbness, the cold through the warmth, the darkness lurking in the soft white light behind her closed eyelids, and the bitter bite of vinegar to the sweet honey taste in her mouth.  It was then she understood why vampires were such efficient killers; from the first moment of the bite, their careful illusions convinced the victim that this was what they wanted, and they willingly gave up their life.  She didn’t think that she could deny the soft caress of death.  A voice resounded in her ears, but she couldn’t make out the words; were they shouted at her?  The voice was a tether to earth, a rope thrown to her that she traced back to her body.

             
All of the force she still possessed drew together in the whisper of a word on dying lips.  “No,” she said softly.  She felt the creature hesitate in surprise; no one ever resisted.  “No,” she repeated, drawing her life back into her.  With some feeling coming back to her physical being, she drew strength from the Shask, and with one great burst of energy, pushed the monster off of her, sending it flying through the air.  She whipped herself onto her feet, nearly falling as what blood she had left settled.  She bit her lip hard, but no blood welled in her mouth; the pain helped to clear the dizzy fog from her head.  The vampire wasted no time in regaining its posture, and it was then she saw it: her blood.  The pale skin of the monster’s face was ringed with blood around its thin lips –
her
blood
.  It was this that put her over the edge, broke the iron chains which so carefully imprisoned the part of her no one had seen.  She felt the rage stir within her, it may as well have been pouring out through her very skin; it did pour from her eyes based on the look of brief hesitation on the vampire’s face.  The creature had hair black as night, and the matching eyes that all of his kind possessed.

             
The creature, she knew, felt nothing but fear for self-preservation.  She knew the toll this fight would take on her weak body, only seconds ago snatched from death’s eager claws, but she cared for none of that.  The sword she had picked up already in hand, she closed the gap between them with terrifying speed.  The move the monster made for her neck was futile and nearly pitiful – nearly.  The vampire had scarcely moved before her sword had plunged through its still chest, and its expression transformed into one of pure, vicious malice.  Nameh’s only thought resounded as a wish that the monster could feel real emotion, that it could suffer a greater pain while writhing on the ground.  She tried to control her rampant thoughts and aggravated desires, but could not.  There was a vampire-like blood lust swelling within her.  It died with a shriek, and she pushed the sword harder into it until every last breath the monster had drawn was forced out in the scream.  Blood covered her hands, pouring out from the force of the blow, not a beating heart like a human; it was striking and terribly black.  She took all of its energy, reclaiming what had been taken from her, the cruelty she felt was unfamiliar and comfortable all in one moment.  Its lifeless eyes – though they had technically already been dead, she thought – stared up at the ceiling, dazed and unfocused.  Her seemingly unquenchable thirst for cold revenge had been satiated. 

The glimmer she saw at its chest brought her back to reality, a reminder of the world she had been away from for a time.  She ripped the medallion from the carcass of the creature.  The medal was small, cold, and foreign feeling; not a natural metal, for they could not bear most pure metals, but one created by magic.  She carefully tucked it into the sheath to her dagger, now absent.  For a moment, she panicked, where was it?  A flood of relief greeted her as she realized she had given the knife to Cal.  The relief drained from her as fast as it had come, like the blood stolen from her.  She didn’t see Cal.

              It wasn’t as though he was a child, as if he couldn’t take care of himself, so why was she suddenly panicked?  He had clearly been trained well, for despite his lack of real experience, he had fought skillfully earlier.  She took a breath to steady her breathing, silencing emotion as usual.  When had she last seen him?  Right before she was attacked, she concluded.  What had happened to him after that?  In the short time she had known him; she hadn’t taken him for one that would abandon her when she needed aid.  These abnormalities in her thoughts were mildly concerning.  Her usual detached calm was now mingled with feelings of…fear?  Fear was not something that was often prevalent, but when others were involved, she began to be concerned.

             
She wiped the blood off of her sword; there was now a certain darkness to it, strange and foreign though it was her own, as if it were now tainted.  Around her, bodies still ebbed and flowed in the seemingly endless and savage dance of battle.  Screams hung in the air, thickening it so that one had to struggle to draw a breath into heavy lungs.  The fact that she was nearly dead, maybe still dying was barely an inkling in her head.  It was not only Cal missing. 
Mira, Max, Wyd, Talar, Seth, Cal, Gwen, Eve
.  How many of their faces had she seen for the last time full of life? 
No
, she thought, she would not let a single one of them slip through her fingers; they all deserved better.  Even if it killed her.

             
She cut through the crowd easily, even in her weakened state; slicing through opposition that hung like foliage in a forest.  She tried to sense them one by one, but the magic here was too thick, and her mind too clouded with that blasted emotion.  Her heart was beating faster, thumping at the inside of her ears.  She searched faces, but found none that were familiar, and continued on.  Seth was the one she sighted first, his strong, sharp features ablaze with intensity.  He plunged through a pixie to his right before turning his eyes on her, his relief as clear as hers must have been.  Both were scratched and cut up, dried blood crusted to bare skin, especially on Nameh’s hands which had nearly been inside her vampire assailant’s chest.

             
“You made it,” he said, his voice betraying happiness. 

             
“So far.  Have you found anyone else?” The words spilled from her lips, and she was unable to contain the hopefulness in them.  He cringed at the words; she knew his answer.  “We’ll find them,” she said, not sure who she was trying to reassure.  In this brief moment of refuge, she noticed what she hadn’t before: less pixies and vampires now flooded about them.  They were winning.  But at what cost?

             
“I was trying to protect Gwen and Eve, but we got separated.  It’s hard to see anything in here.”  As he spoke, they were now moving, weaving through confrontations, almost at the back of the room now.  Having a familiar face by her side was a comfort, and she was glad that it had been Seth; he had an air of confidence that was penetrating.  Something silvery caught her eye, flying gracefully through the air and landing with a clatter at her feet.  She bent and picked it up with a swift movement, keeping her eyes up to avoid a surprise attack.  She cradled the thing in her hands as it dripped blood onto her already crusted hands.  The familiar shape of the object felt right in her hands, and she replaced it in its sheath. 

             
“The dagger I gave to Cal,” she explained before he could ask.  “He’s got to be near here.”  Determination filled her voice as it filled her mind, engulfing her thoughts.  He gave her a steady and knowing look, the unbroken gaze that she had found nearly disarming before.  Now, she found it comforting and understanding, but comfort was not what she sought.  What she sought was pain.

             
She turned from his cool blue eyes and scanned her surroundings.  From the corner of her eye, she saw a dark group, denser than the rest of the crowd.  Three ominous vampires and two bleached pixies were gathered into a small circle, creating a queer contrast of colors.  The sight was too strange to pass of as coincidence, the way they held their bodies, and the way they stood together told her something was amiss.  She motioned for Seth to follow her, and they plunged through the crowd again toward the circle.  As they approached, she could make out a shadowed figure facing the small menacing crowd, the black hair falling about his face was the first thing she recognized.

             
“Cal,” she breathed.  He stood, fighting bravely against his heavily advantaged opponents.  They did not all attack at once, but rather in turn, creating a continuous cycle of blows.  He struck out at one of the vampires, taking it by surprise and cutting through its heart.  She couldn’t help but grin at his kill as she rushed to his aid.  She and Seth worked in perfect tandem, each cutting down a pixie, the enemies that were closest to them.  Cal took advantage of the attention drawn to them, and struck through another vampire.  This left just one, now fearful for its life, but still looking leagues away from pitiful.  Out of a sense of deepened sorrow, she briefly scoured her heart for some shred of mercy, some desire to preserve the life of some monster that had once been human.  She hit walls everywhere she searched, finding nothing but sheer destructive force and dark intentions.

             
Cal struck out at the final assailant with a smooth, fluid motion that connected to his last.  The sight created the effect of watching a bird of prey, graceful and powerful in the same moment.  The three stood with chests heaving for a moment, separated from the main battle by a few feet.  They were all covered in the tiny, razor-like cuts from claws that were much more painful than they appeared.  She found it amusing that the first thing out of Cal’s mouth was an apology.

             
“I’m sorry,” he breathed.  “The one that attacked you was the leader of a small band.  The rest of them, there must have been ten, tried to bring me down.”  He paused, breathing and searching for the words, “I should have been able to take them, and then help you.”  She couldn’t help but laugh at the words.

             
“I’m a big girl, you know.  I can take care of myself.”  She gave him a grin and raised her eyebrows.

             
“No kidding.  You shouldn’t have lived through that.  I’ve never met anyone that’s lived through a vampire bite.  What a story, huh?”

             
“If it didn’t have dark magic though, I would be in the process of becoming a bloodsucker right now.  Good thing, then I guess.  Werewolf, I could live with, but vampire?”  Her voice didn’t contain the grim tone it should have.  She knew that she couldn’t be turned here; the Shask protected them from dark magic.

             
“You seem to have left that out,” said Seth with a casual air.  She liked it when people weren’t so concerned with her well-being. 

             
“Sorry, but between the onslaughts of Guild attackers, I must have forgotten to give you a synopsis of the occurring events.”  Her voice held a sarcastic twinge, a comfort she receded into.  They were silent for a moment, hesitant to return to the fight.  The cloud formed again in her head, threatening to pull her into it.  She needed rest; that much she knew, but she would not until she found the others.

             
“I think I saw your friend over there,” Cal said with a point.  He must have been talking about Mira, the one he had seen her with earlier.  Silently, she took his advice, and headed in the specified direction.  The sea of movement was thinning like a morning fog, leaving spaces interspersed throughout.  Her consciousness was coated with a thick oil as she tried desperately to hold onto it, slipping through her fingers.  The only thing tethering her to the warehouse scene was her concern for Mira; she
wouldn’t
lose herself now, not when Mira needed her.  She could feel the two behind her, a reassuring feeling in the field of doubt before her.  It was the glint of gold she saw first, lighting her heart on fire and sending chills down her spine.  The fire and ice mingled together within her, knotting her stomach in anticipation: Mira.  She rushed to her friend’s side, scarcely aware of the blows she was receiving to her pumping arms.  The uncovered scene was comparable to that of freshly fallen snow.  The sight of it brought such joy and peace to her, that she thought she might instantly fall to the ground and succumb to the warmth that tugged playfully at her awareness.  Surrounding Mira were Max and Wyd; somehow, they had managed to stay together. 

             
It took her a moment to realize that Talar was also part of the group, or who she assumed to be Talar.  This was the first time she had seen him in a shifted form, all muscles and thick hair of a deep brown hue.  His lips were pulled back in a snarl to reveal rows of knife-sharp teeth of a startling white.  The power with which he moved immediately made her envious, and she began to reconsider her decision to wait to become a werewolf.  Nearly the entire group was now reunited, it seemed like an impossible dream; she still waited to jolt awake and find that the reality was none so sweet.  Admittedly, the pixies weren’t the best of fighters, but they were vicious, and the vampires had their weaknesses.  Despite this, she had been doubtful of their survival.

             
Mira and the other three cut down the last of what she assumed to be a long line of attackers, and caught their attention.  She almost wanted to embrace her friend, something utterly uncharacteristic, but knew that this was neither the time nor the place.  She reveled silently for a beat, not wanting to ruin the moment with feeble words.