The monster lands like an anchor. I continue my awkward backstroke, waiting for it to resurface. When it doesn’t, I spin onto my front and thrash my arms through the water. My feet hit the sandy ground, and I sprint out of the sea as if it's on fire.
This part of the beach is unoccupied with tall rocks that lead to a boardwalk and then a highway. Its high tide, and the waves crash against my ankles. I head toward the boardwalk, looking for some stairs. I must have drifted miles from the flare, but I’ve got to get out of here in case the monster recovers.
A large figure rushes toward me from the left with a smaller figure giving chase. My heart leaps, and I hurry toward them, hoping they’ve come from the stairs.
As we get closer, I make out the horrified face of a man in his twenties. The woman behind him opens her mouth, flashing gleaming fangs. My heart sinks. It’s a vampire playing with her food.
He grabs my arm and twists me around. “Get out of here.”
“No,” says a teasing voice from behind. “She can stay and join the fun.”
“Let go,” I say to the man. “I can help.”
He’s not listening and only quickens his pace. I clench my teeth and pull my arm out of his grip, trying not to hurt the man attempting to save my life. He grunts and hurries down the beach, and some of the tension in my muscles fades.
With the flick of an arm, I ease another stake from the seam of my jacket and turn to the vampire. She’s a dark-haired female who looks about nineteen, clad in a yellow bandeau top that exposes her tight midriff and denim booty shorts. The vampire leers at me as though I’m an aperitif.
“There’s a monster out there that kills your kind,” I say to her. “Leave before it catches up with me.”
Her mouth widens into a grin, and I can’t tell if it’s blood around her mouth or badly applied lipstick. “Round here, I’m the monster.”
“Die!” The man charges toward us, wielding a zombie knife with a serrated edge.
A heartbeat later, the vampire rushes at the man and backhands him across the face. He flies several feet and crashes against the rocks. His knife clatters to the rocks and gets consumed by the high tide.
“Run,” I shout.
The vampire spins and reaches for my neck. I block, punch her backward and sidekick, my foot landing on her jeweled belly button.
“What is this?” she snarls.
“Get out of here.” I hold out my stake.
She lunges. “You interrupted a perfectly good meal. Now, you’re going to—”
A blur of black races behind the vampire and tears her head off. Before she even hits the sand, her entire body combusts into ash. I gasp and stagger toward the water. The monster recovered.
Before my next step lands, a plank of pain slams across my back, sending me flying through the air. I stretch out my arms and land by the rocks on my hands and knees. Sharp pain lances through tiny cuts on my palm, and a roar rattles my eardrums.
I twist around to find the creature looming toward me. Its wings have retracted, but blood no longer spills from its guts. All the blood races from my face to my clattering heart. I curse the monster’s fast recovery and ball my aching hands into fists.
Street lights above illuminate rows upon rows of triangular teeth that cover the creature’s mouth from its lips to the back of its throat. It’s like a lamprey, except for the strong arms pinning me to the wall of rocks. I turn my neck to the side, slam my knee in its groin but only hurt my leg. Warm liquid drips on my skin, and the scent of burning sears my nostrils. There’s no pain, and I can’t bear to look at what it’s doing.
The monster’s high shriek pierces my ear, and my head snaps up. It’s the man from before, holding a knife dripping with blood. His eyes bulge as the monster turns toward him.
I wriggle within the creature’s grip. “Run.”
He won’t move. His gaze is locked with the monster’s, who keeps me pinned to the rocks.
Traffic rumbles past, but the pulse booming between my ears muffles the sound.
“I’ve found something,” shouts a familiar voice in the distance.
Hope surges through my muscles, and I throw my body against the monster, knocking it back several paces. Footsteps race over wooden boards, and I rush toward the man. “Get out of here, now.”
The knife slips from his fingers, and he bolts toward the steps. I turn to find a dark figure rushing out of a black van parked by the boardwalk fifty feet ahead. Something heavy lands on my back, knocking me into the sand. I rear up, trying to break from its grip, but it's too strong, too heavy, too determined to keep me down.
A male and female pair jump down into the sand and race hand-in-hand toward the creature. Gold magic encases us in a dome. The monster places a hand on the back of my neck and jerks my head to the side.
“Get off me.” I raise my arm and slam it into what I hope is the monster’s neck.
It gurgles and chokes and then spews fluid over my jacket, which fizzles and pops.
“What’s this?” Evangeline stands over me, holding onto Kofi’s hand.
“Help me,” I say from between clenched teeth. The monster bites my neck, which pinches but doesn’t penetrate the skin. I grunt with the pain and try to crawl out from under its body.
“What’s going on?” shouts another voice from the boardwalk.
I glance up and get a glimpse of a blonde-haired woman. It’s Sigrid. If I can see her, she can see me.
Evangeline turns around. “Just a pair of mating dogs. Take this guy off the beach and tag him.”
The creature continues holding me down. I don’t know if it's ignoring Evangeline or if Kofi has enchanted them both invisible, but it doesn’t even acknowledge the pair standing over us. It keeps gnawing at me, only to get frustrated when it doesn’t taste blood.
I draw in a sharp breath through my teeth and glower at Evangeline. “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replies with a chuckle.
“Use the decapitating garrote while I hold it steady,” says Kofi.
“No,” Evangeline replies.
“What?” we both say at the same time.
The creature rears back with a howl of frustration, making all three of us flinch. I wriggle within its grip and crawl toward the edge of the golden bubble, but it flips me onto my back. It lunges at me again, and I block, trapping its jaws against my forearm. The monster growls around its mouthful of leather.
Evangeline throws down a stake that lands close to my ear. “She’s an Augustine. An Augustine doesn't need the help of common slayers. You’ll be fine unless you lose the tactical jacket.”
A gasp of disbelief escapes my throat. This can’t be happening.
Kofi shakes his head. “Eva—”
“I’m doing this for both of us.” She slaps him across the chest. “Do you want to be the conciliar to a Blessed slayer?”
He jerks his head away, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“Kofi!” I scream.
As the monster gnaws on my leather jacket, Evangeline wraps a comforting arm around her conciliar and guides him through the beach and toward the van. A moment later, its engine roars to life, and it races down the highway.
Rage courses through my veins, hot enough to burn through the creature trying to chew through my jacket. I grab the stake and plunge it into the creature’s eye. It releases my forearm and screams. With the flick of my arm, another stake shoots from my sleeve, and I stick it between the monster’s ribs. It goes rigid and falls onto the sand.
“Finally!” I stumble to my feet, resisting the urge to run.
It’s not dead. Dead would mean disintegration. Dead would mean lying still, but the tips of its clawed fingers twitch. I rifle through the pockets of my jacket, looking for a way to sever its head, but there’s only the spool of a decapitating garrote. I kneel beside the monster, wrap the string taut around its neck. Its magic is supposed to slice off a vampire’s head, but nothing happens.
&
nbsp; The clouds part, and the moon shines down on the beach, reflecting on something metallic—the zombie knife. I stretch my arm through the golden bubble and snatch the weapon from the sand.
With a scream, I plunge the knife in the creature’s neck, and its fingers stop twitching. Relief washes through my veins, and all the aches and pains from the struggle seep to the forefront. I step out of Kofi’s enchantment and hobble across the beach. The van has gone, and I curse under my breath.
As soon as I return to the convent, I’m going to have Evangeline discredited. No slayer should ever put personal ambition before her sisters, and no slayer should ever walk away from a supernatural threat unless her life is in peril.
My heavy feet sink into the sand, and I glance over my shoulder at the beach. Kofi’s enchantment conceals the monster, and waves crash against the sand, washing away the signs of a struggle. I’ll make sure the Magus hears about Kofi’s stunt. He’s supposed to keep his slayer from killing innocent supernatural creatures, not helping her.
Saltwater drips down my face and gets into my eyes as I limp toward the stairs. The other slayers—Sigrid, Taylor, and Natalia—they must have seen me struggling on the beach with that thing. Why didn’t they investigate closer? They had always been cordial with me in my first years at the convent and only turned cold when Evangeline got shortlisted to receive the Blessing. I shake my head, hoping they didn’t intentionally leave me here to die.
With another glance over my shoulder at the empty beach, I ascend the steps, taking them two at a time. Things are going to change. I won’t fight dirty, but I will do everything I can to make sure Evangeline never gets to hold a stake. I reach the top of the stairs and turn to survey the beach.
A hand hooks beneath the collar of my jacket and rips it off my shoulders. I turn around to find the monster throwing the garment aside.
My stomach drops.
It punches me hard across the jaw, sending me tumbling down the stairs. I fall on my side, my head crashes on the rocks, and pain explodes through my skull.
Cold terror permeates my veins. Without that tactical jacket, I’m exposed. I scramble to my feet and sprint across the beach. It’s futile—the monster wraps a hand around the back of my neck and slams me face-down into the sand.
Its heavy mass knocks all the air from my lungs in a pained scream.
“No!”
Teeth pierce my skin, sending bolts of agony into my head, my neck, my shoulder, my chest. It’s like white lightning, electric agony, and my teeth clench. I buck against the dead weight, but those teeth fuse to my flesh. My one free arm flails, and I punch the creature on the head.
It releases my neck, turns me around, opens its jaws, and lunges again.
My body goes numb, and my senses turn cloudy. All I can feel is the creature’s terrible body shifting on mine. I can’t tell if it’s biting my flesh or consuming my blood, and I don’t know why it doesn’t just tear off my head and let me die.
Waves crash around us and the water subsumes our bodies. The monster hauls me across the sand, lays me on a flat stretch of rocks, and starts again. I want to scream, but that would require the use of my lungs. Right now, only the barest of breaths flitter in and out of my nostrils.
Death is coming, and this monster is going to make it slow. As my eyes fall closed, the pressure holding me down releases, and I fall face-first into the sand.
I don’t know how long I lie like that, conscious of my surroundings, conscious of the crashing waves and the rising water. It's going to enter my lungs, drown me slowly, and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.
As far as demises go, this is the worst. I didn’t even get the chance to share my intel about the powerful creature, to warn Presbytera Driver of the viper within our ranks, to thank Poppy for being my friend. Grandma will be distraught at having lost another daughter, as will Aunt Clarissa and Uncle Fred.
And Alaric… My muscles go slack as I think about the mage. We never did get a chance to fight.
A pair of hands lifts me off the sand and props me against the rocks. My eyes peek open, and a pale face fills my vision. Worried dark eyes stare into mine, and his brow draws together in a frown.
Alaric?
“Do you want to live?” His deep voice fills my heart with hope.
Air whistles from my unmoving lips.
His hands tighten around my shoulders. “Blink once if the answer is yes.”
I close my eyes, but it takes an eternity to force them open.
He pauses. “Good enough.”
Before I can work out what that means, fangs descend from his mouth and he lunges at my neck at an alarming speed.
Chapter 10
The pounding of my head pummels me out of a dreamless sleep, and I wake with a scream. Bright light floods my eyes and Memories rush to the forefront of my mind like a broken kaleidoscope—Poppy smothered by vampire mist, the monster that stole me through the air, Evangeline’s betrayal, and…
A breath catches in the back of my throat.
“Alaric!”
My body jerks forward, and the fog of sleep clears from my mind. Alaric is a vampire. If he asked if I wanted to live, does that mean he turned me? Dread rumbles through my belly. I suppress a moan and try not to think about Grandma being forced to put me out of my misery.
I’m lying on the firm mattress of a Victorian-style bed complete with four iron posts topped by brass knobs. They meld into an iron head and footboard. My gaze darts around a huge, windowless room with white walls and oak parquet floors. I sit up, and a cream-colored, cashmere blanket slips down my chest, revealing iron manacles around my wrists with chains nearly as thick as the bedposts.
My nostrils flare, and a panicked palpitation resounds through my insides. Why on earth would someone who wanted to save my life dump me in an upscale, luxury dungeon?
“Alaric,” I snarl. “Where the hell are you?”
I kick the blanket to the wooden floor and drop my gaze to my body. My jeans and shoes are missing, even though I’m still wearing the same tank top from last night.
Frantic breaths heave in and out of my lungs, adrenaline courses through my veins, and every limb in my body trembles. If I’m hyperventilating, that’s a good sign. Alaric hasn’t turned me… Yet.
“Stay calm,” I whisper to myself.
We’ve covered scenarios like this in Slayer Warfare—what a slayer should do when captured by a master vampire. Disgust ripples through my inside at what these fiends like to do to women. According to Sister Bradford, slayers skip the fledgling stages when turned and transition to a vampire as powerful as their master.
I clench my teeth, remembering what else she said in that lesson. A master vampire wanting a powerful minion will use any method at his disposal to manipulate the love and loyalty of the slayer, from seduction to forcing a warlock skilled in necromantic magic to perform a love spell that will extend beyond death.
Saint Julia of Thessaly was a slayer in the Twelfth Century who became the hostage of a five-hundred-year-old vampire. He held her for forty years, using every trick at his disposal to secure her loyalty, and her only means of not becoming his slave was to play along.
When he turned her, she rose from her grave a rejuvenated, powerful vampire and tore through his entire lair of minions before returning to her slayer sisters for absolution and a quick execution.
My breaths become ragged. Thanks to Jude’s machinations, Alaric won’t be able to try a love spell. When Poppy unpicked the magic she sealed the energy pathways a mage might exploit to sway my heart. At least if Alaric turns me, I might be able to kill him in revenge.
“Brielle?” says a voice in my head.
“Poppy,” I say back. “What’s happening?”
“Brielle?” she repeats over and over. In the time since we Bonded, she has never been able to speak telepathically without skin-on-skin contact. She must be borrowing the power of some other slayers to broadcast her thoughts.
I gulp. If I had
worn my foci-ring and not left it in the pocket of my jeans, I might be able to reply.
“Bree, if you can hear me, do whatever you can to stay alive.” Her voice breaks. “We’re searching San Diego and all the vampire hotspots from Tijuana to LA. Driver has sent teams to Nicodemus’ Hollywood lair.”
Anguish burns down the back of my throat, making me choke on a gasp. “It’s Alaric, not Nicodemus!”
I rub at the metal cuffs around my wrists and breathe hard. How could Evangeline and Kofi let the Order waste time and resources in the wrong direction just to conceal their treachery? That monster is still out there, unkillable, and wanting to do goodness-knows-what to slayers.
My anguish turns to fury, which courses through my veins. I’ve got to leave this prison before someone gets themselves hurt infiltrating the stronghold of such a powerful vampire.
Forcing deep breaths in and out of my lungs, I work myself into a sitting position. The iron chains clank with the movement, and I examine the manacles. They’re the standard medieval dungeon fare, secured by padlocks and I’m not even sure they’re enchanted. I pull out an earring, squeeze the silver bar, and out springs the lock-pick.
If I ever get out of here, I’ll thank Uncle Fred for the thoughtful gift.
I place the pick in the padlock’s keyhole. The mechanism whirrs, and the lock opens with a click, allowing me to free one wrist.
Outside, the creaking of a door causes me to freeze, then footsteps approach. Panic shoots through my heart like New Year’s Eve fireworks, and I flop to one side atop the newly released chain, arrange my body in the fetal position, and remain still.
Whoever stands outside the door and stares at me appears satisfied because they move away, but I don’t budge until the footsteps recede down the hallway, and the door slams shut.
Vampire Bonds (Darkbloods Book 1) Page 10
