by Lili Zander
19
Raven
We jump into training the next day. “It’ll take Tomas a couple of days to get to Merin,” Saber says cheerfully as he wakes me up. “Might as well use that time to teach you to defend yourself. Come on, Raven. Get out of bed.”
I was in the middle of a dream where I was flying. I had giant translucent wings, and I glided through the air, perfectly at peace. Four dragons, the mythical beasts that so captured the imagination of Old Earth humans, flanked me, and though they looked nothing like my vampires, I knew that they were Saber, Nero, Zeke, and Ragnar. We flew through the clouds, laughing, tumbling, diving, just playing with each other, without a care in the world.
I want to hold onto that feeling of well-being. I don’t want to wake up. If I don’t open my eyes, maybe I’ll be able to fall back into that dream. “Go away.”
He laughs and turns on the overhead light. There’s a ruthless streak in Saber. I make a protesting noise and bury my head under the pillow. “I have coffee,” he says persuasively.
I sit up, dragons forgotten. “You do?” There had been no coffee on the Valiant. I could have probably bought some in the night market on Antaras Seven, but I’d been too distracted by the abundance on display in the street stalls.
“Nero went out to the local market.”
No doubt Nero also checked the overall security of our hutong at the same time. I stand up, and Saber’s eyes run over me appreciatively. “I love that you sleep naked.”
“I’m not used to the warmth.” Merin is, like Antaras Seven, a much hotter world than Boarus 4.
His teeth flash in a grin. “I’m not saying that factored into our calculations on where to take shelter, but…”
“As if,” I scoff. “The three of you are too paranoid about security. Besides, you can have me naked anytime you want. All you have to do is ask.”
His eyes go dark. “It goes both ways, love. Any time you want me. Any time you want anything of me. All you have to do is ask.”
Love. My heartbeat speeds up. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we won’t leave this room,” I warn him.
He shakes his head. “As tempting as that sounds, it’s time to hone your fighting skills. Get dressed and join me outside.”
Hone my fighting skills? I don’t have any. I’m in for a long session of getting my ass handed to me.
After four bone-bruising hours of sparring with my stick, Saber decrees that I’m ready to learn how to fence. “You have got to be kidding me,” I say to him, puffing with exertion, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. “A sword’s far too risky. What happens if I cut you and somehow get my blood on you?”
“You’ll be holding a sword for the first time in your life,” he replies, as infuriatingly calm as ever. “You’re not going to land a stroke on me.”
Argh. “Arrogant much? I’m really going to enjoy proving you wrong one of these days.”
He grins lazily and picks up a pair of swords lying on the ground. Nero’s come out to watch us, and when he sees the blades Saber’s holding, his eyes go wide. “Are those…?” he asks, his voice strangled.
Saber glances at him. Nero shuts up. I look at the two of them curiously. “What?”
“It’s not important. I’ll tell you later.” Saber tosses one of those swords to Nero. “Come on, Nero. A rematch?”
Nero catches the sword out of mid-air. “I rushed Saber with a sword when I tried to kill him,” he says to me. “Saber was an officer in the Imperial Army. I knew he was a crack shot, but I didn’t think he’d know how to handle one of these.” He makes a couple of swishing strokes in the air, warming up his wrist and testing the balance of his blade.
“He did?”
“How was I supposed to know that every member of Family Hafsson is an elite-level swordsman?” Nero sounds aggrieved.
Saber smirks. “What have I told you, Nero? You have to look before you leap. My family’s obsession with swords is hardly a secret.” He eyes the man in front of him. “That was seven years ago. You’re better now. Are you good enough to beat me?”
It’s banter, and neither of them intends to hurt the other, but they also wouldn’t be the vampires they are if they didn’t enjoy a little friendly competition. This reminds me of Boarus 4. In the backyard of their Sector 1 guest house, heaters burning all around us, they’d taught me how to fight with a stick. Nero and Saber had sparred then as well, as had Zeke and Nero.
I had thought they were fast then. They’re even faster now. They collide in a blur of blades. Nero charges. Saber dodges and thrusts his own weapon, but Nero’s already dancing away, a grin on his face. “Got to try harder than that, Saber.”
They slash and pivot, thrust and retreat. They glide over the ground, their movement so fluid it resembles flight. The dragons from my dream come to life. Their blades glimmer under the floating lanterns, and when their weapons clash, it sounds like a violent, primal symphony.
They’re mine. My vampires. Somebody pinch me, because I must be dreaming.
A sword flies through the sky. Before it can crash to the ground, Saber moves with vampire quickness and plucks it out of the air. “Nicely done.” There’s not a drop of resentment in his voice. No, all I can hear is admiration. And pride.
Nero’s eyes glisten with triumph. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with exertion. “You taught me well.” He pivots to me and hands me the sword, hilt first. “Now, teach her.”
Break time is over. I get to my feet, ignoring my screaming muscles. Ragnar’s voice sounds in my ear. Learn to fight and defend yourself. Absorb every lesson Saber, Zeke, and Nero teach you. Spend hours on the InfoNet, because the moment your relationship with Saber becomes public knowledge, the assassination attempts will start.
“Tell me something,” I ask Saber, swishing the blade the way Nero had done. “Why not teach me to shoot instead? A gun will beat a sword every single time, won’t it?”
“It will,” he agrees. “And you will learn to shoot. But there are several planets that prohibit guns. Antaras Seven was one of them. Merin’s another. When we were part of the Imperial Army, those prohibitions didn’t apply to us. Now, since we’re traveling under false identities, they do.” He grins. “Blades are always easy to find on the black market. It’s a good idea to know how to use one.”
He walks me through a basic position. “Bend your knees,” he instructs. “Move your right leg forward. Good.”
I crouch as he indicates, feeling foolish. Zeke must be taking a break from trying to hack into Levitan’s secure network, because he’s come out to watch too. No pressure at all. “Ignore them,” Saber advises. “Your focus should be on your feet and on your footwork. Don’t dwell on the sword. It’s just an extension of your arm. Okay? Now move forward. Lead with your dominant leg.”
To my surprise, Saber’s a really good teacher. He’s patient, and he doesn’t throw too much at me. By the time we’re done for the day, the sword doesn’t feel foreign in my hand. But I’m painfully aware of how raw I am, and how much further I have to go to. “All I’m sure of right now is that I won’t accidentally stab myself,” I say ruefully to Zeke as we make our way inside. “I guess that’s a victory of sorts.”
He chuckles. “You’re a lot better than I was on my first day,” he says.
“I am?”
“Oh, absolutely. I was hopelessly uncoordinated as a child. I was good at hacking and not much else. I got picked on a lot.” His gaze is distant, and I feel another surge of anger at the thought of Zeke’s family.
“You’re a crack shot now.”
He comes back from whatever dark place he was in. “Hours and hours of practice.” He smiles at me. “It’s instinctive now, but I had to work at it. You have an innate sense of balance. It’s what made you so good on your ice boat.”
He’s such a nice person. A nice person who can spank me like a champion. My vampires have layers. “Thank you, Zeke.”
A week passes in a blur of h
ard training, good food and drink, and amazing sex. Nero leaves the safe house every couple of days, but the rest of us stay indoors.
Zeke’s busy trying to locate the missing boarium, but Harek Levitan’s security thwarts him at every turn. “You’ll get through,” I tell him during one of his moments of frustration. “What you’re trying to do isn’t easy. Levitan is committing treason. The evidence is going to be hard to find.”
“You’re right.” His eyes are red-rimmed. Too many hours in front of a screen. “How’s the training coming? Sorry I haven’t been able to help much.”
“It’s frustratingly slow,” I grimace. “Yesterday, I held onto my sword for three whole minutes before Nero disarmed me. It’s humbling.”
He gives me a wicked grin. “What you’re trying to do isn’t easy,” he says, echoing my words. “You’ll get through.”
Jerk.
Eight days after we arrive on Merin, Tomas Cabal lands in the local spaceport with Ivar Karling. We’re all there to greet the two men. For security reasons, of course, but also because we’re going a little stir-crazy cooped up in the cramped quarters of the safe house.
Marcus Riljor and Amara Zuboff come with us as well. Amara eyes the twin daggers strapped to my belt, and her lips curl into a sneer. “Are those decorative, or do you know how to use them?”
Bitch. “Try me.” I’ll get the shit kicked out of me—even with Saber’s training, I have not become an expert in a week—but she doesn’t know that.
Marcus puts his hand on hers. “Let’s focus, shall we?” he says evenly. “We are not here to start a pissing match. We’re here to provide security.”
She snarls in my direction but backs down. We leave the hutong and load ourselves into two waiting skimmers. Wisely, I choose the skimmer that doesn’t have Amara in it. In less than an hour, we arrive, without incident, at the spaceport.
Tomas raises an eyebrow when he descends the ramp of his spaceship and sees the six of us waiting for him. “Should I be flattered or nervous?” he asks, and then he grins. “Wait, it’s not me you’re interested in. It’s Dr. Karling.”
Ivar Karling is a tall, thin vampire with a shock of white hair around his face. “Good to meet you,” he says, smiling at all of us. “Especially Raven.” He shakes my head enthusiastically. “Your blood is fascinating.”
“Have you been able to create a cure for the virus?” I ask hopefully.
The smile is wiped off his face. “Not yet. We have a couple of hopeful results but nothing conclusive. The pressure is somewhat overwhelming.” He straightens his shoulders. “But we’ll get there. The prince has given us every resource we could possibly need. My colleagues are brilliant scientists, all of them. I have full confidence in them.”
Guilt stabs me. “We’re pulling you away from your work.”
Dr. Karling shakes his head. “No, no. It’s quite alright. I couldn’t pass up the chance to study the way the virus interacts with your blood. And a transfusion on this scale will provide us useful insight. Have you identified a hospital with the equipment I need?”
The vampires don’t reply. I look up, just as Saber dives over my body. “Get down,” he shouts. “We’re under attack.”
Then the bombs go off.
20
Saber
The bombs aren’t explosives. They’re smoke grenades, designed to obscure the dozen armed combatants pouring into the spaceport. A thick, heavy cloud fills the air between us and the main exit.
Damn it. The building has two side exits, but I have no doubt that they’re guarded. The instant we open them, we’ll be met with a hail of bullets or arrows or whatever they’re using to attack.
We’ve got to fight our way out.
I’m already on my feet, helping Raven up. Marcus Riljor appears next to me. “They’re jamming our comm signal,” he says crisply. “I’m going to fight my way out and get reinforcements.”
The odds of him slipping past the cordon aren’t high. He’s signing his death warrant, and he knows it. But there’s no choice. The spaceport is open to the sky, but we can’t pile into the ship and take off; we don’t have enough time.
I clasp his hand. He’s putting his life on the line for us. No, not for us. For Nero. The Merin Underground is mostly disbanded, and all the revolutionaries have jobs and families now, but they remember what Nero did, and they respect and love him for it. “Thank you.”
He nods. Two knives appear in his hands. Serrated dicar blades, seven inches long, two inches wide, an eighth of an inch thick. These are weapons designed to kill, and Riljor holds them in a way that suggests long familiarity with them.
Maybe he’ll make it out alive.
He whirls away toward the front entrance. The entire conversation lasts a fraction of a second. I look around. Tomas Cabal is pushing Ivar Karling up the ramp. Good idea. The spaceship has one entrance. Defend the ramp, cut down the attackers, and wait for backup. “Come on,” I tell Raven urgently. “To the ship.”
She’s halfway up the ramp when Marya sprints out of the haze, her sword slicing through the air, mere inches from my face. I jump backward and fling a pair of dicar blades in her direction. Unlike Riljor’s knives, these are designed to be thrown. Their center of gravity is at the center of the knife, and when I hurl it, the blade has a predictable trajectory in flight.
They bounce off her armor. Damn it.
It’s been many years since I’ve seen her, but when we were together, Marya trained with me. She thinks she knows my fighting style. She drops to the floor and rolls, moving closer to us.
“Give me your sword.”
Raven thrusts it into my hand.
The smoke is clearing. Bodies sprawl on the floor. Friend or foe? I can’t spare a glance to check. Fights rage all through the large open building, but I need to narrow my focus. Marya needs to go through me to get to Raven. One second of distraction and the woman I love will be in mortal danger.
Marya’s weapon has a long straight blade, best suited in combat in an open battlefield. It’s not the best sword for a close-quarter fight. A tactical mistake. Unsurprising, really. She might be known as the Dagger of the Shayde, but that has more to do with the trail of blood and carnage she leaves in her wake than her actual sword skills. Marya prefers guns.
She’s closed the distance between us. I swing the Old Earth scimitar at her in an underhand stroke designed to tear her from hip to shoulder. She brings her blade down to block the stroke. Her gaze falls on my weapon, and her eyes narrow. “Is that…?”
I thrust my scimitar at her neck. She dodges and staggers backward, and I go on the offense, rushing her. If she succeeds in beating me, she will take Raven to Harek Levitan, who will cage her, torture her, and then, once he gets what he needs from her blood, kill her.
Marya’s fighting because those are her orders. I’m fighting to protect the woman I love. The assassin might have superior numbers on her side, but she doesn’t have what I have. She’s not battling for something greater than herself.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” Baring my teeth into a savage grin, I launch myself into the air and bring my blade down. Had the stroke landed, it would have sliced her from head to toe. Just in time, Marya brings her blade up and blocks me. She jumps backward, somersaulting through the air and landing on her feet. I keep coming, moving down the ramp, taking the fight away from Raven. Swing. Dodge. Swing. Block.
Raven’s still frozen on the ramp. Damn it. Where the fuck is Cabal and why isn’t he pulling her to safety?
Marya puts distance between us. I notice the throwing knife in her left hand too late. I have a split second to react. I can’t duck. Raven’s standing behind me. If I step aside, the knife will cut into her. I’m a vampire. I’ll heal. She won’t.
Acting on pure instinct, I grab the knife out of midair. The blade bites into my palm and blood swells from the cut. Marya’s eyes widen. “How?”
“Ever give a shit about someone other than yourself?” I throw the knife aside
and wipe the cut on my thigh. “That’s how.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls. “Always so fucking pure. You’re like the antique sword you like to use, Saber. A relic of the past. The world is changing. Power is being redistributed, and you’re too hidebound to see it.”
The Marya I knew was damaged but not evil. What has Levitan done to her? “So you condone genocide now? That’s a new low, even for you.”
She sucks in a breath. “Harek wants the girl. You can’t hope to protect her against the General.” She launches into an offensive, driving me backward. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Each stroke is precise and perfect, and it’s everything I can do to parry.
Fuck, she’s fast. Faster than any bitten human I’ve ever met. She must be absolutely chock full of vampire blood, and she’s using it well. She sees my surprise and smirks. “I leveled up, Saber. Did you?”
She’s moved too close. Stupid. She’s out of balance from her lunge, and I seize the moment. I grab her right wrist with my left hand and slash, the stroke designed to take her head off.
Her left hand smashes into my wrist, knocking the killing blow away. She kicks out with her left leg, putting her entire weight into the kick, smashing into my jaw.
We both stumble backward. She wipes the sweat off her eyes with her forearm, then her eyes widen. “No,” she shouts. “We need her alive, you fool.”
I pivot too late to see a knife fly toward Raven.
I run. It feels like I’m moving through an Oensi tank. Not fast enough. The sunlight glints off the dicar blade as it hurtles toward Raven at the speed of death.
Then Nero’s there. The blade slices into his shoulder. Ignoring it, he reaches Raven and pushes her back into the ship. I have no time to thank him because Marya launches herself at me again, her sword twisting through the air.
