by J. A. Saare
“This area is reserved for those facing my justice or when I want to share more, how should I put this, primal pleasures with my guests,” Revenald addressed me for the first time, taking the center seat as Anton sat in the chair to his right. “As you can imagine, this room doesn’t see justice happen often. Those who enter our fold are smart enough not to bring attention to themselves. Once you become a member of a vampiric household, you are loyal to it until death.” Revenald clapped his hands and the door to the left opened. I didn’t have a chance to see who entered the room, paying attention to Revenald as he continued, “Several years ago, another servant was taken to task. He was punished, of course, but it appears the lesson wasn’t learned. I’ve offered my assistance in teaching him a proper lesson. You see, he attempted to run from his mistress not once, but twice. That just won’t do.”
I only managed a brief glimpse of the man—a necromancer—who was dressed in the same manner as Goose before I saw the woman leading him toward us. My eyes went wide, my heart thundering in my chest. She looked exactly as she had in the future, dark hair, bright eyes, expensive yet slutty clothes. I knew our paths would cross one day. I’d actually warned her half-brother just before I killed him she would meet the same fate. She took the empty seat beside Revenald, staring at me, her bright green eyes full of hatred.
Victoria Delcroix.
The vampires accompanying her yanked on the arms of the man between them. He was in chains, complete with wrist and ankle cuffs. He stopped in front of the half-demons, chin lifted in defiance. His brown hair was heavy on his brow, nearly falling over his whiskey colored eyes. Even beneath his shirt, I could see the definition of his muscles, the broad lines of his shoulders. Standing at six-feet, he wasn’t huge, but he was deadly. There was a glint in his gaze I knew only too well, one I sometimes saw staring back at me when I looked in the mirror.
“Matthew Johnson,” Revenald said, flicking his hand at me, “meet Rhiannon Murphy. Rhiannon Murphy, meet Matthew Johnson.”
We didn’t say a word, sizing each other up. He was bigger and bulkier than me, meaning he would be slower on his feet. I glanced at his arms and hands. Jesus. I’d have to avoid those guns at all costs if he aimed them in my direction. Just the right punch could and would break bone.
“You’re dead,” Victoria chimed in softly and I looked at her. She was staring straight at me, her expression unreadable and set in stone. “Before the evening is done, I intend to drain the life from you.”
“Don’t start, Victoria,” Revenald chided. “The night has just begun.” He waved at the guards beside the chained man and they started removing the bindings. “Let us begin the festivities.”
Revenald motioned me forward and waited until I stopped beside the now-unchained necromancer. “This is your first test, servant of my blood. Matthew has defied his mistress more than once, meaning he is challenged by death—the same as you. I’ve been told you prefer violence, which works nicely in this case. The two of you will engage in battle in this room, but there’s a catch.” There was a sinister spark in Revenald’s eyes when he said, “Only one of you will survive. It’s a fight to the death. Win and you will be given the opportunity to absolve yourself of your crimes against my home. Die and, well...” He chuckled, shrugging. “You die.”
“Kill her and I’ll release you, Matthew.” Victoria tossed out. “Her life for your freedom.”
Why did she have to do that? My palm twitched, itching to connect with the side of her face. Matthew’s gaze went from intent to lethal. She was going to reward him with the very thing he’d done to get himself in trouble in the first place—the thing he wanted most.
Damn it to hell. I was as good as fucked.
“Stand back,” Revenald commanded. “Give them room.”
“You can do this,” Disco whispered in my mind. “End things here and now so we can leave this wretched place.”
“You got it,” I thought back, more than happy with the thought of leaving Revenald and The Land of Oz. “Let the games begin.”
Disco, Marius, and Paine moved away from me, so that I was alone with the man that looked like he was ready to bust my nuts. We faced each other, neither of us afraid.
Damn it. So not good.
Either he didn’t realize I could hold my own, or he knew and didn’t give a shit.
I kicked off my heels, sending them sailing toward the center of the room, when Matthew lunged. Fuck me. He was faster than I thought. His knuckles grazed my cheek as I dove to the side, out of his range. The big bastard didn’t give me time to decide what to do next, charging me like a bull intent on staking its horns through a red flag.
Crap.
I hated running in circles and fleeing like a coward, but the truth was I had to wear this one down. I couldn’t let myself get anywhere near his fists. His first punch told me exactly what I was dealing with, someone who’d trained in the ring on a daily basis. Street brawlers and gym boxers were the worst types of people to fight. They had no rules—anything goes. I heard Revenald’s jeering taunts as I bobbed and weaved, dodging the asshole who had to kill me or die. It wasn’t easy. Despite trying to stay one-step ahead, Matthew landed a couple of bruising blows to my shoulders and ribcage.
“Enough of this,” Revenald said after a few minutes. “Corral them.”
I heard footsteps and saw the vampires who had been standing at the far wall form a circle around us—closing us in.
No, no, no!
I had to rethink my strategy. Balls to the wall the motherfucker.
This time when Matthew came at me, I waited, timing it so I went into a saddle split just as he stopped inches from me. To my relief, my leather pants didn’t rip or tear, gliding with the motion like a second skin. I reared back, aimed, and delivered a punch to his family jewels.
Boo-yah.
He grasped his newly crushed balls, howling in pain.
Bringing my legs together, I rose to my feet. The next part of my plan was something the movies made look easy—total bullshit, by the way. Breaking someone’s neck was damn hard, nearly impossible. Matthew tried to pivot when I swerved around and launched onto his back, wrapping one arm around his throat and fisting fingers through his hair with my free hand. Although I tried to get my legs around his waist, I failed. I shook it off, focusing on the positives instead of the negatives. I’d practiced this move afterhours with my trainer and self-defense coach, Mike, but I knew it wasn’t as simple as putting weight behind a swift jerk and getting the job done. The angle had to be just right, the motion along with the pressure in equal amounts.
I screamed when Matthew lowered his head and used one of my own dirty moves against me—biting down hard on my forearm. His teeth broke the skin and he didn’t ease up. It hurt, a pinching sensation that radiated up to my shoulder, but I couldn’t let go. He’d kill me if he gained the upper hand. All he needed was a nice, level punch to my nose. He’d send bones into my brain and it would be game over.
He wrapped a fist in my hair, twisted his wrist and thrust his upper body forward. I slid with the movement, my abdomen resting against his head, and the world spun as I landed on my back. Within a second, Matthew had his hand around my throat, his thick fingers applying pressure. He didn’t want to break my neck, he wanted to fucking strangle me.
Dots swam before my eyes and I reached out with both hands, trying to grab onto something—anything. A couple of times my fingers swept over feet which quickly moved away. I brought my hands up and tried to gouge out Matthew’s eyes. He prevented the connection, using his elbows. Left with nothing else, I clawed at Matthew’s fingers, digging my fingernails into his knucklebones.
“Next to your head,” Disco thought frantically. “Let him go and reach above you.”
What position was I in to argue? Abso-fucking-lutely none.
I released Matthew’s fingers, reaching over my head. I came in contact with a thin piece of wood—one that was attached to a shoe: the heels I’d removed before the f
ight. It was a miracle, a saving grace. Grasping the heel in my right hand, I gripped the shiny layer of leather and made my decision.
Thank you God and Christian Louboutin.
There was no way to aim with my eyes, so I arched my back and felt for Matthew’s face with my left hand. When I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go, I brought my arm to the floor, tried to take a deep breath, and brought the heel around with as much strength as I could muster. The impact was odd, like pushing a spike into sand until reaching the hard earth beneath. Matthew immediately let me go, using the hand he’d had around my throat to keep his balance as he fell forward.
I scooted away from him, searched for and located my other shoe, and rushed for the high heel. After I had the fashionable weapon in hand, I turned toward Matthew. He’d pulled the heel from his ear, creating a fountain of blood that oozed from the shell and down his throat. He was wobbling, as though he’d lost balance. I hated what was coming next, but it had to be done.
Only one of us would walk away, and by God, it was going to be me.
Ripping the heel from the shoe, I started forward. Matthew lifted his head when I stopped in front of him, gazing up at me in disbelief. I didn’t give him time to ponder what was coming, lifting my hand, bringing it down and stabbing him in the left eye with the five-inch heel. I didn’t stop until my palm was flush against his face, despite the fact that the rough edge and nails that were once connected to my shoe cut into my palm.
When he collapsed in a heap at my feet, I remained standing over him. They’d asked for a battle. They wanted death. I refused to make what I’d done anything less. I wasn’t backing down from these pieces of shit. If they wanted to break me, they’d have to try harder. I wouldn’t cower before them. They could only take things from me if I allowed them to.
“Well done,” Revenald applauded. “Excellent.”
“Bitch!” Victoria screamed, coming out of her chair.
The world went into slow motion, but I wasn’t fast enough to avoid her, taken instantly to the ground. Wind left my lungs in a painful exhale, allowing her to drastically cut off my oxygen supply. The way she gripped my throat told me I’d lost; I’d won the fight but not the war. I was going to die, just as Disco and Paine feared. Remorse struck, knowing I was leaving them behind. But behind that sadness was anger. Killed off by Victoria—Victoria—of all fucking people.
Oh, the irony.
Then, unexpectedly, Victoria was gone, leaving me staring at the ceiling. I gagged as I tried to breathe, heaving for air. I heard noises that only came from fighting. Turning on my side, I located the source of the sounds and gasped. Disco had engaged Revenald while Paine had taken on Anton. Victoria was all the way across the room in a heap on the floor, the plastered wall above her cracked from her body’s crash-landing impact.
“Do it,” Paine thundered, circling Anton. “Now!”
“Burn,” Disco whispered, watching Revenald. I felt my strength sap as they clashed in battle and he reversed our mark, taking from me as he yelled, “All of you. Burn.”
Red chaos erupted around me, flames reaching out. The fiery path spread, expanding in waves. I gasped, jumped away from harm, then realized I wasn’t on fire.
Everyone else was.
One by one, the vampires around me started turning in circles and screaming. In moments, they flopped their hands, patting areas of their body, hopping around like frogs. Their servants soon did the same, consumed by orange licks of flame, flailing their arms, wailing in horror, pain, and confusion. Disco said burn, they were on fire...except not. Even his own family wasn’t immune, screaming in agony and rotating in circles.
“Run, Rhiannon.” Disco’s voice sounded like a lion’s roar in my head. “I don’t know how long I can sustain the illusion. There are too many of them.”
I was a guppy: a pet fish tossed out of her bowl. Taken from safe waters and thrown into the fire. Oh, and it was fire. That much I did understand.
I just couldn’t believe it.
Disco was controlling the minds of all the vampires and their servants. Over forty people. Making them see and feel what he wanted them to. If the image he’d given me was one of peace, the one he shared with them was hell. They didn’t stop screaming, as though their skin was blistering and peeling from their bodies. So much pain for something that wasn’t even happening.
If he could make them believe fire was real, what else was he capable of?
The thought frightened me more than it should have.
I wobbled as I attempted to stand. The energy he was using to maintain the illusion was massive, so much so I felt him weakening. I tried to run but only managed to take a few steps, my breathing becoming heavy.
“You have to hurry.” I could hear the drain in him, the sapping of his strength. “I...can’t...hold...them.”
“I’m trying,” I thought back, wanting to do as he said.
My legs refused to work, the muscles exhausted from the strain of the mark between us. I knew why he kept it open, that he was calling on my reserves to buy me more time, but it had the opposite result.
I couldn’t run if I couldn’t walk.
In an instant, the mark was broken, and I nearly sobbed with the loss. Disco had severed it, to give me one last chance to escape. Scrambling, I tried to force myself upright, to gain my balance. The shock of having the connection wide open and then having it slammed closed was disorienting. The screams continued, stinging my ears like needles, as did the noises from the fight taking place.
I made it a few feet, ready to run, when the room went quiet.
One moment Disco was fighting, using his power, controlling the vampires in the room. The next he was trapped on the ground, beneath Revenald, and the vampires had stopped their maddened yelling, perplexed as they gazed at each other. A few moved to block my path, preventing me from leaving. I turned and saw Paine pinned against a wall, Anton’s hand around his throat.
“Remain silent.” Disco’s mental order was abrasive and abrupt. “Do not bring any attention to yourself.”
“Silver manacles!” Revenald demanded, no longer refined but barbaric, ready to chop us all to bits. I noticed Disco wasn’t fighting at all now, harmless beneath him. “I will no longer tolerate this nonsense. This ends now.”
“Sire, please,” Marius said and took a hesitant step forward, standing before the family whose apprehensive faces conveyed their fear. “He was protecting his servant who did only as you instructed. He wouldn’t have used his power if he didn’t feel her life was threatened.”
“Enough!” Revenald thundered. “I would have torn Victoria apart limb from limb if she broke the rules set this night. Yet even if she had, a servant is a servant. Nothing more. Your progeny—both of them—have forgotten that. They reacted without respect for the power I hold. Emotion has ruled my home for too long. This is not the example I have set. No more.”
Victoria made it to her feet and looked at me. I wanted to rush to Disco and Paine. Odds were she was going to come at me again. If she was, I had to be ready this time. I wasn’t going to let the bitch kick me when I was down.
“Don’t even think about it.” Revenald growled at Victoria, his eyes turning from green to yellow as he brought his lips back and showed her his fangs. “I’ve told you that you will have your revenge. Question me again, and you’ll never again be welcome in my domain. Are we clear?”
I could tell it hurt her to nod, damaging her pride, but she managed to make the jerky motion with her head. The remaining vampires were quiet as they waited to see what Revenald would do next.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” he told Disco as leaned forward, their chests inches apart. “The penalty will be harsh.”
“Coming from a half-demon who’s scared of a human female, that’s rich,” Paine retorted, answering for Disco.
I looked at him in horror, this time afraid for him. Didn’t he know better? Did he want to play with fire?
“You
must feel quite badass with those odds,” he continued. “Who wouldn’t? I guess they don’t have manners or teach you in Hell that it’s not nice to pick on girls.”
“I can’t wait to have a taste of that pet of yours,” Anton intruded, moving closer to Paine, grinning with menace. “She smells exquisite.”
“Be careful.” Paine’s reply was confident, perhaps a bit arrogant. “She bites back.”
“Excellent.”
“If you say so.”
“Is her cunt as tight as that fine ass of hers? Does she like it rough? She looks like a slut who likes it rough.” Anton’s words were intended to shock, and they did. I rocked back, taken off guard. Paine didn’t seem the least bit fazed.
“You sure you want to know?” Paine grin was meant to convey amusement, but I knew better. He was goading Anton, dangling bait in his face. The question was: why?
“Humor me.”
Paine’s grin broadened, making me queasy. Anton lost his smile when he purred, “She’ll make a half-demon bitch like you cry for mercy while she cuts off your balls. Then she’ll feed them to you, one by one. How’s that for rough?”
“It’s a start.”
“I like to think of it as the beginning of your end.”
I couldn’t see Anton’s face or hear what he said when he leaned in close and spoke into Paine’s ear, but Paine’s expression went from calm to outraged. Considering what Anton had previously said, it had to have been bad.
Very, very bad.
I watched, stunned and horrified, as Paine spit in Anton’s face and snarled, “You’re going to die. She’s going to kill you. My angel of vengeance rips you a new one. I’ve seen the way you go. I’ve seen what she does to you. And it’s brilliant, positively glorious.”
“You test me,” Anton said, words clipped.
“Paine,” Disco rasped, despite Revenald’s fingers around his neck. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell this egotistical piece of shit that his time is almost up? Because it is.” Paine’s grin was one of pure, unfiltered provocation. What was he thinking? Provoking Anton? Was he insane? The heaviness in the room built, settling all around me.
