by Lisa Ladew
He leaned in close to her. “Your scent stirs my blood,” he whispered. A poor excuse for, “I love you,” but it was the closest she would allow. He would not upset her whilst there were vampires about.
Anna licked her lips, stole a glance into his eyes, then looked up at the window above them for a long moment. Her scent flared strong, making him struggle to hold still. She was aroused. Great Bear. Growler lived to see Anna aroused, her color high, her hair twirling, her body flexing as she unabashedly sought her own pleasure from his body and dared him to do the same with hers. But here, now. It was enough to collapse him.
Instead of speaking of her arousal, Anna stared through him for just a moment, her eyes shimmering, her voice soft and sad. “You are always there for me, Growler.”
Growler had the perfect growl ready for Anna but he held it back. Sometimes she misinterpreted his growls, on purpose he thought. He spoke, instead. “We mold your future together, Anna. It is all I think about. I will always be at your side. Until the day death parts us.”
Blue magicks surged at the window above them. “They swarm,” Swan called, her voice quiet but projected. For Anna and Growler to hear?
No time to wonder. Vampires popped into being all around them, daggers and swords in their hands, and the switches and Growler fought for their lives as the battle cries below them indicated the rest of the cosh did the same.
17 – Cosh No More
Growler shifted, a thousand pounds of bear making the beams of the roof sag and creak as he ran across it, bold as alpha. He ripped through the vampires on the roof, pitching most over the edge, cracking their heads on the stones placed below for just that purpose, before Anna had a chance at any of them. Someone would have to do clean up below, or those vampires would eventually be up and walking, then stupidly fighting. Shifters flooded onto the roof which was a good sign that inside the cosh was at least a little under control, unlike the mass of twisting, hissing vampires the shifters and switches on the roof were fighting through.
Anna crouched, slicing through the vampires that Growler hadn’t managed to throw to a crunchy nap, eyes open, swiveling. She saw no Fatherborne vampires, which was lucky for her, or she’d be burnt bread quicker than even Growler could save her.
She couldn’t kill a Fatherborne. Only Blood switches could, and then only Antimony could do so every time. Fatherborne vampires were strong and old and bursted with magic and evil. That white stripe in their hair that they always had, even if they shaved their heads bald, it pointed to where something was wrong in them. Where something was off. Fatherborne vampires were dark and twisted in the way Blood switches always seemed to have a touch of. But nobody talked about that. Switches only whispered about that kind of thing.
Anna knew how much switches loved their secrets and drama, and the sisters liked to whisper that someday a Blood switch would fall for a vampire. The king for the peasant, but which was which? Some whispered that Antimony already had. Others said that was a lie, a myth, a legend, a story vampires told when they wanted to feel better about themselves. Vampires can suckle switch honeypots if they want. Never happen, vampire. Not even in your dreams, vampire. Don’t display thine idiocy, thusly, as Sir Dewey would say. A switch will never mate a vampire. It’s not possible. But only the switches know that, because only the switches could understand the defiant agony that burns inside switches when vampires are near.
Slice. Stab. Crouch. Nerves firing. Pain from the nearness of the vampires stayed at bay as long as she kept killing. Whoops, he got to close. Blow him back with some magic. But Growler already had him by the throat. Crash to the flagstones. Like watermelon, vampire heads were.
Oh no. A white stripe in dark hair. Down from the right temple to the nape of the neck. Anna grasped for his name. Zdakar, Zvakar, Zvain. No. Swive it all!
Zver. Not him, he was in the north, gone to ground months ago. It wasn’t Vant. Vant had a twisted nose and a scar above his eye that Swan and Anna had given him. They hadn’t been good at lightning two years ago, in that battle, hadn’t even known what they could do together, but they’d managed that scar. Now they were phenomenal with lightning. They’d practiced for years, tearing up the forest with the thick, blue bolts that were always stronger and thicker when Anna lent Swan her magic.
Anna wanted another try at Vant fiercely. But this was not him. She crouched behind a moving, heaving Growler, to get a better view of the Fatherborne. A black cape whistled out behind him, screaming at her to grab it and slam her knife into his chest like the idiot deserved. There were a few cape vampires and Anna and her sisters made fun of them relentlessly. Vant was one, as was this fashion casualty.
“Swan!” she yelled, decision made. Life was an adventure, and all that. Fate favors the bold. Something. Anything she could tell herself to get herself moving. But after all that, Growler jerking his gaze to her was what did it. Got her in motion. She jumped out from behind Growler, running headlong on the roof toward the Fatherborne, praying that Swan would hear before she reached him.
“Swan, a Fatherborne! Send out your light, for focus!” She felt her sister respond from the crow’s nest where she fought with her own weapon, ducking and running so she could free herself from the fight and send Anna her magic.
Blue lightning crackling in the air as Anna ran, a moving target, as fast as she could, sending out physical magicks to knock lesser vampires out of the way. Growler had seen her sprint and followed, his claws out, his bear eyes rolling wildly, a growl rippling from his chest and throat. No time to think how strong his bear was. Anna sent out a focused beam of her own magic on a current of the bond she had with her sister, Swan, her sweetly passionate sister with the smile as bright as the sun.
Anna’s campfire orange magic flowed out of her, wrapping around her sister Swan one time, then gathering and shooting toward the vampire, where it funneled Swan’s blue lightning into the vampire’s twisted chest and black heart. The Fatherborne tripped, flailing forward, his face crumpling, his gaze searching for a way out. He was still alive. But beat? Could they possibly do it? Anna’s momentum carried her past the heap of a vampire and she skidded and tried to turn. If they could kill a Fatherborne, Antimony would not have quite so much power in the cosh.
Anna didn’t want much. She just wanted this one thing. Just Growler. The right to pick him. So she had to kill a Fatherborne. If she could, she would show the Blood switches, and Antimony in particular, that the other elements were powerful, too. Fate was fluid and favored the bold. She would be bold and trust Fate to see it her way.
“More lightning, Swan! More!” Anna yelled, stilling herself, focusing all her magic into the still sizzling and striking lightning bolt. The roof smoked under the vampire. No one could care. They were all going down, the only question was exactly how.
Pink light tore through the air between Swan and the vampire, and Antimony appeared on the roof. One second not there. The next second, there. Phazed in like a vampire? Could it possibly be? Anna had never seen such a thing before. Never imagined it could happen. But it had, right in front of her.
Swan and Anna’s curl of blue lightning coated in orange magic slammed into Antimony’s belly. She absorbed it easily. Stopped it cold. Behind her, the vampire staggered backward, released from the magic. He recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to phaze away. But he was slow and logy. The shifters near them: Growler, a lean jungle cat from Blood element, and the alpha from Belief element, all grabbed for the vampire, two legs and an arm captured and muscled flat until the vampire was on his back on the roof. Strong shifters could keep a vampire from phazing, hold them for the killing blow from a switch, any switch.
Antimony stared at Growler, pinning the vampire’s leg down, for a moment and her face contracted, a conniving smile touching her lips. Anna’s mouth dropped open as Antimony actually threw a look at Growler, then Anna, then back at Growler. A look that said, I could decree him to come to me this night. Mayhap I shall. I like thick bear meat as
much as anyone. If it would show you what a fool you just were.
Anna lost her hold on herself. It was too much. All of it. She couldn’t take it for one more moment. She plowed at Antimony, her fingernails out and going for Antimony’s throat. Antimony would dare, Antimony would die! Anna bared her perfectly normal canine teeth and willed that they would turn to fangs. She would tear Antimony’s- But no, she would do nothing. Antimony’s magic caught her by the middle and threw her into the air, slamming her into the unmoving side of the crow’s nest, knocking the thought from her head.
Growler launched himself to his feet, staring at Antimony, eyes hard and angry, as the other shifters gaped at Anna and Antimony cat-fighting there on the roof. Even the vampire stared, his mouth open. Antimony waved her hand and her magicks tumbled two halves of the bloodsucker over the edge of the roof.
More vampires swarmed them. Anna picked herself up from where she had landed, stalking through vampires, her wooden dagger held out, casually flicking vampires out of her way. This was not over between her and Antimony. Not by a long shot. Her blood pounded in her ears. Antimony twisted away after a vampire. Anna followed, only hearing the cries of her sisters as if from far away. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she knew there was no way it would end well.
Antimony saw her coming, dispatched a swath of five vampires who had been sneaking up on her from the left in one blow of pink, glowing magic, then squared off with Anna. Antimony’s hand shot into the air then came down, her magicks smashing Anna to the roof in a heap, then turning her physically on the roof so she could see a Fatherborne had come up behind her, had been about to grab her by the throat. “Stay down, Anna,” Antimony sneered, killing the Fatherborne without even physically touching him. Her pink Blood magic did all the work, shrieking out in front of her, slicing easily, leaving her to speak, a sneer in her voice. “You don’t want to lose your pretty head, now do you, Anna? Growler wouldn’t make it through the night.”
Anna froze, and Antimony’s magic on her evaporated, its hold gone. There it was. Out in the open. Anna wanted Growler. Growler wanted Anna. Antimony knew about it. Had said so. Sideways, sure, but she had said it.
Anna stood completely still on the roof in the nighttime, breathing hard, waiting to see what Antimony would say now.
Was Anna out of the cosh? If Anna was, was Growler also?
A whoosh sounded, then light popping sounds. Antimony’s decree would have to wait. A second wave of vampires came from everywhere, up the ladder, dropping straight out of the sky, climbing up the sides of the building, appearing in thin air a step away from the cosh and grabbing for it, mostly catching it and launching themselves at the switches and shifters, who fought and slashed and prayed for their very lives, Anna losing Antimony in the fray, but feeling Growler always there, to her left and behind. The vampire surge never stopped. The more they killed, the more showed up, until the roof ran with vampire blood and Anna had to tether the shifters to the roof beams with magical bonds that held them tight.
Anna’s magic waned. She’d used so much. Replenished so little. Pulling at the bonds of those she cared most about only gave her a boost for so long. A vampire came in from the side and she swung her dagger. She’d killed a lot of vampires with that dagger. But never a Fatherborne. The one time she’d tried (without Swan’s help), the Fatherborne had laughed at her and ripped her knife and her magic right from her hands. Antimony had swooped in, having to save her. The memory burned Anna, made her reckless. She pushed too hard at the vampire with magic that was fizzling, and lost her balance, rolling herself right off the roof! She thrust down with all the magic she had left in her, to keep herself from smashing on the pavement. She still hit hard, then twisted around to yell to Growler she had no magic left, that she wouldn’t be able to soften his blow if he came down twisted. They both knew she’d scrape some up from somewhere if he were really in danger. But Growler wasn’t coming. She lay on her back, breathing hard, arms outstretched, her small wood dagger clutched in her right hand, and watched for him. He would come. He always did.
Her head-on-the-ground position showed her a vision she would not have seen if she had been standing: feet in the forest, mostly hidden by foliage. Black boots scraping. Dark dandy pants. Mincing steps. A Fatherborne. Anna jumped to her feet and ran for the woods, crouched. She would know those steps, those black boots anywhere. It was Vant, he of the Anna-and-Swan-turned-thee-over-his-knee scar. Everything else flew from her head. She had no magic left. No shifters at her back. No Blood switches with her who could make the kill. She was going to die hard, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She would kill that vampire with her very will alone. She would try.
But the vampire called his magicks to himself, glowing black like they did just before they phazed. She had no shifters to hold him. She jumped for him, her fingers hooking onto his stupid black cape as he disappeared. What would happen? Pain seared her and wind shook her as blackness consumed her. Just that quickly, the world came back, one of her shoulders and one of her thighs wrenching from their sockets. She had ahold of Vant, and Growler’s bear had ahold of her. He’d come. Her Growler. She might live, after all.
Growler’s bear launched himself over her, all thousand pounds of him, onto the vampire who was still reeling from the added weight in the phaze. Growler pulled the vampire away from her, the two males rolling on the forest floor, Growler steering the Fatherborne into a tree. They both fetched up against it, but only the vampire seemed injured, slow to get to his feet. Growler was up immediately, his bear throwing a hard look at Anna, keeping the vampire in his peripheral vision. Growler stooped, his bear eyes on Anna, and took the time to press the ingrav on his side with one claw. Anna clutched her dagger in her hand and advanced on Vant.
Vant shook his head of dark hair with thick white stripe like a skunks down the middle, and recovered quickly, his eyes glowing red as he regarded Anna, who was hesitant, knowing she was not a match for him, no matter how much she might wish to be so. Orange light spilled onto Vant and Anna as Growler lit up the night, his entire body glowing campfire orange.
Vant turned to him, an inquisitive look on his face, making the scar above his eye twist. They were still in the forest, somewhere, five or six scent miles to the west of the very center of the forest, or something, Growler would say, while Anna waited for someone to tell her which way to go.
Anna regarded the vampire Vant with contempt and grudging admiration, but mostly contempt. He was as fake as the forest was real. Fake from his slimy smile, like a bullfrog's. Wide, and hard to miss, but it meant nothing. It was a lie in plain sight. Fake all the way to his cape. A cape, for goodness sake. His fangs and his greasy disposition weren't enough, he had to wear a cape to make sure even the spiders in the leaves of the ferns knew he was a vampire, and that white streak in his hair! She shook her head. The Fatherborne were vain enough to dye it that way with magic and plants.
Thinking of him dyeing his hair made her almost smile. She thought of sharing the little joke with Growler and magic surged inside her. Just a little. Not enough to knock Vant on the head with. But maybe enough to get them out of there.
Vant stepped back, hands open and raised, showing Growler he would not go on the offensive for a few moments. Growler did not relax a muscle. He regarded Vant with a deadly stare. Vant spoke, lifting a hand to point at Anna, while he addressed Growler. “Your entire body glows for this switch. The one I could kill with a swipe of my claws. I know the meaning behind such a thing.” He struck out at Anna, lazily but precisely, making her jump back and Growler growl and lunge. Vant held up a hand, barely stopping Growler. “Joking, sorry. I do that. Ask anybody.”
The Vampire Vant regarded them with a smirk on his face that he should not be allowed to wear. “Do switches care when a shifter grows sweet on them?” he said, pressing his lips together hard and phazing with no warning. He came up behind Growler and ran him through with a knife before Growler could react or Anna could shout a warn
ing. Growler was on the ground, shifting at once, healing the wound, doubling back on the ground to sink his teeth into Vant’s thigh and hip. But Vant was phazing again, over to the left, feinting behind Anna, who lost herself at the wound in Growler’s back that no longer existed. She shrieked a war cry to the sky and ran for the impudent, loose-lipped vampire, spewing magic before her too quickly. The Vampire Vant was waiting for her. He feinted again and parried and sliced his knife down her side, her magic shooting harmlessly past him. Growler snarled into the sky and ran for them both, desperate to protect Anna. Vant shot out black magic that caught Growler around the middle, pinning him to the ground. Growler struggled but could not move. He recognized the magic as the same that had strengthened the bear trap. And still, Vant’s magic shouldn’t be so strong against him!
Vant advanced on Anna, who knelt on the wet ground and used Growler’s fear for her to heal the wound on her side. Campfire orange energetic bandages sprang from her hands and took away her pain and covered and healed her side. Fear smelled bad and burned to the touch, but it made strong magic for a short while.
Vant spoke, nodding his head theatrically, moving to the side a bit. Vampires always wanted to battle with their tongues before the real battle. Vain worms. Anna hated that about them. She liked her men strong and sure and quiet, unless they were speaking of love.
“Headstrong Anna,” Vant said. “Where’s Swan, Anna? You two witches have been practicing long hours. You Bond switches aren’t too strong on your own, maybe you should call for her.” He grinned at Anna. Growler snarled out anger and rage to the sky as he struggled with the magic holding him to the ground a few feet away. Anna probed at the magic holding Growler. How best to approach it with Bond magic? Neutralize it? Cut it? Swarm it? Bond with it?
