by Imogene Nix
Across the hallway Cressida waved to him and he rushed in her direction. “One of our nests is under attack. Quickly.”
He noted she already wore her customary red leathers as the house vampires flooded into the hallway.
“The cars are on their way. Prepare yourselves for battle.” She stalked off and he trailed, her long legs eating up the distance.
“Which one?”
“The house Grimardi.”
Daniel’s father had moved there after he’d left Javed’s. Daniel’s blood thudded slowly in his veins, as if the fluid had somehow thickened and become sluggish.
“My father…”
Cressida laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “I won’t lie to you, Daniel. It’s bad. If he’s alive when we get there, you should find him immediately. If not, we’ll need your help to battle them.”
The urge to scream rose but he knew it would serve no purpose. He locked his shoulders. “If they’ve…” He stopped, unable to say the words that gave finality to his father’s life. “I’ll make them pay.”
She nodded, while through the link he could discern her fears and worry. For the nest, for his father and for him.
“I won’t fail, Cressida.” As he spoke, the cars drew up the path and the seething mass of vampiric warriors flowed down, finding cars and climbing within. They carried a variety of weapons, some swords, others whips, some chains, and attached to belts he noted the new ultraviolet pistols. Samra joined them in the lead vehicle, putting a tiny earpiece in.
Samra had insisted on the inclusion of these tools, claiming they would help with communications, and Cressida had agreed. Any advantage would be welcome, she’d said in their planning sessions.
The silence in the car was fraught as Daniel imagined the worst possible outcomes. Nothing, however, prepared him for the sight as they crossed the threshold to the estate.
Smoke billowed through broken windows as combatants spilled out of the doors onto the lawn. Some battled on the grass while the gravel crunched beneath them as they moved in some kind of macabre ballet.
Some vampires rushed from the vehicles, others glanced around to seek victims, and it was clear the rogue vampires hoped to take control of the nest.
The noise, a mixture of clashing steel and screams, married with the ripe scent of blood. Daniel’s teeth descended and his gaze narrowed. The pulsing of blood in his veins sharpened as the predator rose. With one task at the forefront of his mind, he moved, cutting his way through those fighting, shoving and pushing.
At the wooden front door, an unknown warrior blocked his path. “Move!” The guttural sound was unlike him. He didn’t care. When the warrior bared his teeth and lifted his sword Daniel had no qualms.
“They are ours. We’re no tame vampires. We take and we feed.” Those were the last words the creature before him spoke as Daniel raised the blade and the arc of steel sliced the air. It buried itself in flesh, the sword slicing through bone and sinew as easily as a knife through soft butter.
From the defeated vampire’s clumsy movements and inability to protect itself, he knew it had been untrained. The dead vampire crumpled in a heap at Daniel’s feet, but Daniel stepped over it, uncaring now, as smoke continued to pour from the building.
Any humans within were in danger of death by vampire, fire or smoke inhalation, and his father was likely there too.
“Father!” He roared the words, but in this hell no answer could be heard over the cacophony. He moved to the stairs and headed up them, two and three at a time. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Children, women and men of all ages.
Anger churned deep in his gut. At his father’s room he stopped, a sound within catching his attention. The soft wet thud, thud…
The door was locked and he pushed against it. Once. It jerked and bowed, but didn’t give. Again he pushed and it sagged, but held.
Daniel made one more charge with a primal roar. The collision hard, then the hinges bent. The door fell to the ground and Daniel with it.
He found his father on the bed, a vampire holding him from behind in the parody of an embrace. Her mouth at his neck as the final thud sounded.
“Dan…iel.” The whisper assaulted his senses as a glazed look descended on his father’s face.
The woman pulled back, a laugh tinkling through the air as she carelessly wiped away the trickles of blood off her chin. “Hmm, you’re a sexy one. Why not throw in your lot with us? The Master isn’t much fun, or good-looking.”
Rage overwhelmed him and Daniel threw off any shred of humanity as he raised his sword. “I’ll kill you.”
The woman’s face hardened. “Try it.”
She leaped at his shoulder. He moved, sidestepping and whirling, just as Samra had taught him. His blade cracked against bone and the vampire crumpled on the ground. The blood-red veil that invaded his senses demanded justice. A quick downward thrust pinned the woman to the floor.
“You’ll never take another.” He tugged the dirk from his belt and with it in hand, he took her head.
As Daniel stood there, looking down, the last vestiges of endorphins leached away. Hate, despair and anger filled him. They were mainly directed at himself. He’d killed. In anger, in fury.
Dropping the head to the floor now seemed important. It took willpower to release his fingers. The head hit the wooden floorboards with a wet thud while his soul ached with grief.
He spun and stepped heavily in the direction of the bed. It was as he reached for his father that he heard the call. “Daniel!” It was more of a shriek.
“Cressida!” He roared, feeling her fear and something that froze him. Now he moved faster than ever before. The connection between them was dimming. Hold on! I’m coming!
Tearing down the steps became nearly impossible as the bottleneck of fighting warriors blocked the way. He jumped over the railing, thanking God it was only one story. The landing jarred, but he pushed himself up and kept moving.
The thread of their connection wavered but he followed it. She lay on the driveway, curled in a fetal ball, arms wrapped around her stomach. Blood soaked the pebbles below her while bodies littered the ground around the battle zone.
Three vampires, not yet dead, lay nearby, their bodies hacked and slashed. Clearly Cressida had put up a fight.
Even as he crouched down, thoughts of how to save Cressida’s life came to the fore. Just as he raised his wrist, ready to slash at it, Samra arrived, lifted her gaze to Daniel and nodded. “Blood. That’s what she needs.”
Their gazes clashed then he jerked his head in the direction of the engagement. “Finish it!”
She gave a single nod before returning to the fray.
Daniel tugged Cressida’s arms from the wound in her abdomen. It pulsed and he knew he had to feed her or she’d die. Daniel used the dirk and made a single deep slice across his wrist. Blood fountained and he urged her lips open. “Drink, my love. Drink deep.”
For a moment she didn’t and fear ate at him. “Drink, dammit.” He thrust his wrist roughly against her mouth and watched as the blood seeped between her lips. Her body convulsed and she gagged before latching onto to the deep gouge. Teeth sliced through his flesh and she fed.
Her body was stiff and unresponsive until she’d taken several deep draws, then he felt the tension ebb away. Her breathing eased. When he looked down, it was to see the flow of blood had stopped.
Around him, the sounds of battle calmed. A pair of legs, black leather-covered, filled his view. Samra.
“It’s done.”
He nodded before glancing at Cressida. Having taken her fill, she now lay limply in his arms, her golden hair matted with blood and other matter he didn’t want to consider.
Scooping her up into his arms, he surveyed the damage. “We’ll need a report. Secure the perimeter and arrange for any…” Now words escaped him. Survivors? How could there be any in this carnage?
Samra nodded as if she knew his thoughts. “I’ll arrange billets for the survivors. Take care of Cre
ssida.”
* * * *
Her body ached. Every move reminded her of the battle they’d fought, and, according to Samra, had won. Daniel, however, was noticeable by his absence and she fretted.
The healer pushed another goblet of blood wine in her direction. “This should be sufficient to heal your wounds. They were extreme, and you lost a lot of blood.” The man rose slowly.
“The others?”
He patted her hand. “The ones I can help will make a full recovery, my dear. Like you, it will take time. Your warriors have been…diminished.”
She made a face at his words. He was right, and she’d now depleted the security of her nest. It was a beginner’s mistake and she conceded that she’d grown unused to battle readiness.
“The other nest?”
His face paled. “Very few survived. Some of the children holed up in the kitchen, climbing into the refrigeration system. Several show signs of hypothermia but they too will recover from their physical injuries. The rest…” The doctor sighed. “Too many dead for these old bones to face, I’m afraid.”
The question she really wanted to ask trembled on her lips. “Daniel’s father?” The man shook his head silently and Cressida placed the drink on the bedside table before slumping backward.
Was that why he hadn’t been in to see her? Or was it something else entirely?
Weariness weighed her down. She should be up and dealing with things, not hiding in her chamber like some helpless invalid. She started to straighten, to lever herself up, when the wooden walking stick of the healer found its way to her chest, pushing against her breastbone.
“You will rest, Cressida, otherwise that great lion outside will be in and skinning me alive, I have no doubt.”
“What great lion?” Hope surged.
“Daniel. He’s been pacing the hallway for the last however long since you were brought back. Now lie down, so I can send him in.” As the doctor reached the door, he turned. “I mean it. You need rest, otherwise you’ll relapse. Then he really will be out for my blood.”
She sighed, wincing as her body reacted sluggishly. When the door opened though, all those thoughts fled. The man in the doorway was pale, his face and body streaked with blood and soot.
“He said I could come in now.”
Cressida gave a tiny smile and he returned it, but she noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. I honestly hoped…”
She let the words trail away when he tensed. “It’s not your fault, Cressida. I should have moved him well before this. Petitioned for a place here.”
He blamed himself, she realized. “Would he have moved?” She urgently needed him to understand it wasn’t his fault. None of this was.
Daniel blinked slowly, and the ache she felt now wasn’t anything to do with her body. “I…” He shrugged. “I could have made him.”
“Daniel, a wise person once told me that I can’t fix what’s been. I just have to make the best of it. I’m passing that wise advice along to you now.”
The dark hair on his head flew around his face as he shook it. “No. It’s not that simple.”
“It is. It has to be. Otherwise you’ll be like me. Bitter and cold. Trying to distance yourself from life. Don’t push me away, Daniel.” Frustration and fear filled her. Surely he wouldn’t make the mistakes she had.
When he gulped she stood up and moved from the bed then moaned as pain lanced her.
In that instant he was there, helping her back to the bed. “Oh God! I’m such an idiot. You’re right. Of course you are.” The grip of his hand on hers warmed her through and he lifted the goblet to her mouth. “Drink this while I tug my head from between my cheeks.”
She snickered at his unfamiliar comment. “So men do sometimes admit they’re wrong?”
“Not often. So don’t get used to it.”
She drained her drink and raised a hand to his face. It was both dear to her and incredibly sexy. “You should shower, then rest. What time is it, anyway?”
“Nearly dawn. We have the last of the survivors billeted. The house is a write-off. There was a fire tonight and most of it is unsafe.” He shrugged and she wanted to hug him close and tell him it was all right. But they both knew nothing would be all right until Creedar was defeated.
“Go shower. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”
Then he was gone. She strained to hear the sounds of water running and imagined him washing the remnants of the night away. When he reappeared in the doorway, he wore a pair of drawstring pants that rode low on his hips. In silence he padded to the bed and sat down carefully. “If you don’t want me here tonight…”
She reached out a hand, gripping his. “Stay. Hold me today and tonight we’ll talk.” When they finally settled down she scooted into his embrace and thanked God for another day together. She lay like that until his breath evened and she knew he slept.
* * * *
Creedar stalked from one end of the room to the other, seething as he tossed the plans that had failed over in his mind. Even so, he listened to the report from his second.
“How many did you lose?” He whirled suddenly, his gaze focusing on the face of the shaking man in front of him. Idiots! They were all fools and he’d be better off without them! Except right now his numbers were once more depleted.
His second flinched at his Master’s anger but Creedar didn’t care.
He needed rest, he needed sustenance and he needed an army. This loss meant he’d have to make more vampires. It would take blood, time and resources, all of which were running low.
“Sire, I believe…we lost forty-seven warriors.” Jastin bowed low, his greasy black hair nearly touched the floor, and lightning-quick, Creedar struck. He flung Jastin back against the wall and the warrior hung there before slumping.
“You failed me! Now we must rebuild the army I created.” The cramp in his stomach felt like a copper cord tightening in his gut and his teeth ached to sink into human flesh.
“Sire…” Jastin crawled up to hands and knees. “I will fix this.” The breathless promise filled Creedar’s mind. He wanted to roar that it could only be fixed with Jastin’s death, but that wouldn’t work. He needed warriors too much. Instead he swung around once again.
“Bring me the cattle to slake my thirst.”
Jastin nodded quickly, his movements urgent, before he sped away. Within minutes he returned with a whimpering teen just budding into womanhood.
“Please, don’t hurt me. Please…” Her green eyes were round and the hair scraped back from her neck gave him an excellent view of her artery. It pulsed wildly as her blood pumped faster.
Fright always made feeding so much more pleasant, he conceded.
He tore the girl from Jastin’s grip, ripping the skin of her upper arm, and the essence of the rich blood drove his hunger to higher peaks.
She struggled against him and he touched his fingers to her down-covered cheek, pleased with the feel of her. Maybe he should—
Before he could complete the thought, the stench of urine rose in the air, becoming stronger.
Anger coursed richly. “Take her away! I want no piss-covered wench to sate my hunger!”
The girl sobbed as Jastin dragged her back to the holding cells, the sounds echoing in the empty building while his stomach continued the gnawing, roiling hunger that ate him from the inside out. When he returned this time, he dragged an older man behind him.
Creedar took one look then lurched across the room. The paper-thin skin gave beneath his incisors. The blood tasted old, musty even, but Creedar didn’t say a word as he drank every drop.
The carcass slumped to the floor when he was done and Creedar looked down at it with distaste. “Next time, bring me something younger.”
Jastin cowered against the wall. “That’s… He and the girl were all that’s left.”
“The others? Where are they?” His harsh demand set his second to shaking, and he avoided Creedar’s gaze.
“
You’ve either… You’ve turned them or…fed.”
“Then bring me more!”
“But, sire… We have no extra warriors fit to hunt. Most who returned are injured.”
Creedar didn’t care how dangerous their situation was. He didn’t want to hear about the injured. He hungered.
“Let me make this clear to you, Jastin. I hunger. You. Find. Sustenance.”
Jastin bowed deeply. “Yes, sire. I will find sustenance for you. What about the girl?”
Creedar flicked his hand. “She is soiled. Get rid of her.”
His energy nearly spent, Creedar slinked to the dais bed he’d had them prepare and laid his body down. Every inch of him ached, as had happened in the past when his hunger hadn’t been fully alleviated. How long until I have more food?
He’d survived this kind of hunger before and he could again. He’d just need to twilight, so his body could rest.
The meditative steps were easy to follow—his mother had taught had taught him in childhood. First, relax the muscles, letting go of pain. Then rest the mind so it is quiet.
In that state he waited for Jastin to return.
* * * *
“You really don’t have to hover over me, Daniel. It’s not like I’m going to collapse.” Cressida spoke softly, with more than a hint of amusement, and Daniel groaned, aware there was no escape from what lay ahead. He knew what he had to do, but the fear of leaving Cressida behind when Creedar was still loose left his stomach in knots. He pushed away the fear.
“I thought I was being discreet.” He shook his head. I wonder what I did that tipped her off?
“Oh. Well, if you hadn’t been thinking so loud, I wouldn’t have guessed.”
He noted the grin she could barely contain and it lightened his heart a bit, before the emotion melted away, leaving him with the sadness that had dogged him for the last few days. “Maybe Samra could…?”
Cressida shook her head. “I really don’t need a babysitter.”
The memory of her lying there on the ground slammed into him. Ever since the battle at the nest, he’d fretted whenever she wasn’t in his sight. “No. But I need to make sure you’re safe.”
