Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  Razoz leapt forward. I darted to the side. Swung in anticipation. Missed. He landed in the water beside me, ducked down, leapt up. I sliced through the air, missing him completely, then felt his kick in my back as I flew forward, desperate to brace myself yet keeping both blades from skewering me.

  I rolled in the water and staggered back to my feet. My pulse drummed in my ears, drowning out the mayhem on the land. I swung one leg towards the shore, then the next, heaving with every labored step.

  The vampire landed on the water’s edge ahead of me. The fucker was pinning me in, making me fight the current as well as him.

  A rider sliced through two infantrymen behind Razoz, their bodies falling limp to the ground. A third was flown through the air – as weightless as a ragdoll. She landed with a heavy thump, her sword skittering to the side and her blond hair spread out across her face. She didn’t move. A blur of gray fur and dark cloaks shifted with incredible speed. A body leapt high over a pair of spears. A slice of a curved sword ended two more lives as the second vampire kicked one body to the side and dodged a wayward spear as it landed.

  I swayed in the knee-high water, my neck a lot more of a problem than I first gave it credit. I staggered forward, determined to reach the shore.

  The vampire jumped forward. I dived into the attack, hoping he was going to land exactly where I was aiming. His eyes widened just as he realized that I wasn’t trying to get away. He threw one hand up to shield his chest, the split second panic in his eyes enough to fuel me. I drove both his sword and my blade into him, into his chest, and met a concussion-inducing slam into my face at full speed.

  I must’ve tumbled through that water for a day and a half. By the time I came to I was on my knees with the waves lapping against my ankles. I had a crick in my neck that I knew would be permanent. My vision blurred like I had guzzled the cheapest of putrid spirits. I had a curved sword in my left hand and my blade in my right. I lifted one knee up. Couldn’t feel my foot on the black sand beneath me. I tried to get up. The sword dropped from my grip as a lightning bolt of agony ripped through my wrist.

  Broken, no question there. I could wiggle my fingers but couldn’t close my grip.

  The ass-faced vampire sloshed towards me with apocalyptic rage, a dagger in his left hand, his right now a mangled mess.

  The wind blasted the noxious smoke from the fire across me, stinging my eyes and blinding me.

  Instinct told me to dodge. Instinct was an asshole.

  I was slammed into the ground from the leap attack as a sharp warmth skewered my gut. The wind eased. The smoke lifted. The vampire’s dagger was now bathed in red. He sprung away as I threw all my strength into a swipe. I spun off balance, dropped to one knee and gasped with pain.

  “Yours will be agony …” he hissed, short of breath as he staggered forward. “And she will beg you for death like you will beg me for yours.”

  He leapt, I sprung into a charge, much to our mutual surprise. He had favored my left side before. My weaker side. Now was his chance.

  “Arras!”

  His dagger-hand sizzled. Mine checked and sliced. He snapped his knee up, breaking a couple of my ribs. I sliced across his throat – he reeled back, missing my blade by an inch. I dropped – a dumb move by any account – and slashed at his kicking leg. He brought it back, I launched up, he twisted, we stabbed …

  A wet slish of sound stung my ears as the vampire froze. I must’ve had the same look as him, both stunned at the simultaneous attack.

  My blade was buried in his left eye and had broken through the top of his skull, drenching his face in blood. I had even twisted it for good measure in a move I had been using for twenty years.

  His hand slipped from his dagger; the dagger that had landed clean through my armor, ribs, and was now hilt-deep into my heart.

  I staggered back, unable to wrench my blade out of his skull. I drew a breath in. Couldn’t without wishing for death. Worse than that, the vampire was still on his feet, twisting and groaning, like if someone could pull the blade out from his brain then maybe … maybe he could recover. Panic was setting in for the both of us. I slumped to one knee, held my hand against the slimy ground littered with seaweed as the tip of his dagger gnawed against the armor in my back.

  It was the end. I knew it too; the way you know someone is creeping up on you as you sleep, the way you hear your name being whispered within a noisy room … some things you just know.

  I wish I could say that my final thoughts were of something noble. Maybe a parting word to Alysia, Día, Zara, Kel, Lieutenant, Greaser, to Sesta Silvia or – hell – maybe even something that wasn’t an eternal fuck you to my asshole father who kept sending me back to the orphanage without ever telling me why.

  Instead, my last thoughts were of a prostitute named Tala shaking my hand. She had a lazy eye and her fingers were like icicles. That was it. A cold handshake with someone I saw twice and hadn’t thought of in ten years. That’s what went through my mind as I breathed in my last breaths on the shore of the Dead Lake.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Razoz staggered as he turned, holding one hand against his face as he tried to flee. He moved like a man having just downed a gallon of wine. Drunk from the feet up, his center of gravity shifting, determined to reach a make it to a specific location that was well within reach yet utterly incapable of maintaining a straight line.

  The only mantra burning through me was: ‘Don’t let him live.’

  The sound of my own voice surprised me, as though someone else was doing a poor job mimicking me. As the vampire made it five yards, then ten, struggling with every step, I uttered my final fuck you. “Farewell.”

  His body flung back towards me, hurled from an invisible catapult and crashing head on into my face.

  According to the only survivor who saw it happen, I was still as a corpse for the count of ten. The vampire flopped one arm to the ground as he tried to right himself, then my legs started to move, followed by my hand. I clawed at his arm, trying to hold him down. He wasn’t having any of it.

  I pried his dagger from my chest, expecting a blast of cold but instead receiving an overwhelming burn of heat. I buried it into his throat and yanked back. Licked both sides of the blade.

  He slumped onto his ass, clutching his new wound, then decided that I was too much trouble to abandon. His lips broke apart, spewing blood over me – and not the ideal type of vampire blood as this was riddled with a paralyzing venom. I drove his dagger through his open mouth, his eye shooting open with surprise as he spluttered, choking on the hilt and handle of his weapon, the blade itself bursting through the base of his skull. He fell, slumping to the side with a cough, gag, and – if I could believe my luck – about to die.

  I threw my mouth over his throat, drinking in as much of his blood as I could. Bile collected around my tongue as the burnt copper-tasting molasses made it across each and every taste bud, flaring them in unison. The rush of cold blood made it to the back of my throat as I forced it down, chilling my esophagus and sliding into my gut. More and more I drank, guzzling it down as I feebly pressed one hand against my chest to hold my wound closed.

  I must’ve drunk too much and too quickly. My stomach spasmed, pinching itself shut and forcing me to clamp a hand over my mouth as I swallowed it all back down again. And then I fell, slumped to the side as I stared at the gray skies, my vision clouding over, a tingle forming in my fingers and toes as a gentle numbness started to spread. I lost feeling in my most of my body, the only thing remaining was my head, buzzing with a building high.

  A face peered over. Adalyn’s. A spray of blood covered her forehead as she huffed. “Raike?”

  I must’ve murmured.

  “Holy shit, you’re still alive.”

  “… Vampire …”

  “He’s not moving.”

  “… Hurry …”

  She knelt down, trying to throw one of my arms around her neck.

  “No … Vampire. Blood.”


  She dropped me down. Called out to Wilbur.

  “Ad … lyn?”

  “Shh, shh, you’ll be okay.”

  “… Healing …”

  “That’s what I’m doing.”

  I clicked my thumb and finger together, demanding her attention. “Vampire … blood … heals … But hurry. Dead vampire … poison …”

  She stared back at me, the cogs finally working in unison. “You drank it?”

  I’m pretty sure I nodded.

  She peered at the vampire, uncertain, pressed one finger against his neck and wiped a trace of blood away. “This won’t turn me into one of them, will it?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Explain … later …”

  She tested it, dabbing the smallest amount onto the tip of her tongue, pulled a face, then sucked it clean, swallowed, and presumably waited to see if she was going to be sick, fall unconscious, or turn into a vampire herself. She took another wipe along her finger. Started nodding with every swallow. “It’s ... okay … I can see this …”

  “Aphrodisiac,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Drug. Makes you horny.”

  She breathed in with an energized rush, scooped up another finger’s worth of blood and swallowed. “How long do we have until it turns into poison?”

  “Until … stops bleeding. Get everyone … over here.”

  Adalyn shouted out to the survivors, though few, if any, actually moved towards us.

  I rolled onto my side; my back, chest, and heart stinging like there were poisoned barbs burrowing through me. “Hurry … up.”

  She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Twelfth Army! And civilians! Bring your wounded here now!” She pulled her knees in together, almost like she needed to use the bathroom. “Woah …”

  “Welcome to paradise,” I muttered.

  She nearly had to squat down as well. Instead, she sprung to her tiptoes and hurried forward. “Who needs a doctor? You?”

  As Adalyn busied herself by coordinating a mass aphrodisiacing, I remained on my side, dealing with one wave of euphoria after another while still bleeding out. I had only tasted vampire blood once before, but there’s no mistaking the effects. It was often sold as ‘bliss’ and it was living up to its name. A spoonful could cause you to shed your garments in a matter of minutes. It could ease the joint pain of the elderly for days, heal old wounds, turn your gray hair brown, and reduce your suffering on the privy whether you struggled to go every day or were forced to go every hour. It was a shame then that I was spending my most wonderful of moments lying on my side, barely able to move as my chest tingled and blood continued to seep from me.

  I was able to make a haphazard count of folks dead or alive. At least a dozen in my line of sight were face down, unmoving. Two dozen staggered among the suffocating smoke, either dragging or carrying their loved ones. Soldiers still alive ran to help the villagers out of their homes. Others tended to wounds. Several sat in a heap, stunned as tears streamed down their faces.

  Wilbur crossed my line of sight, kneeling down in front of me. “Sir?”

  “How many did we lose?”

  “I don’t know. There are five dead soldiers, twenty alive, four missing. Of those still alive, fourteen are injured. The rest might have made it onto the ship with Lady Kasera Lavarta.”

  “And the civilians?”

  “I don’t know. At least sixty are dead. Lots more are injured. A few of them have fled so the numbers might be worse.”

  “Agnarr?”

  “There’s still no sign of him.”

  “What about Draegor’s people?”

  “Thirty five dead. Two of them are vampires.”

  “Two? Who got the other one?”

  “We all did, thanks to you.”

  “I didn’t kill yours.”

  “You trained us, sir.”

  “You didn’t need me to tell you to aim for the neck, head, or chest. Are there any of Draegor’s people left?”

  “We’ve caught a couple of the injured ones, sir. We might be able to interrogate them.”

  “Good. Get on that quickly.”

  Wilbur wasn’t exactly rushing away.

  “I’m okay. Just leave me here for a bit.”

  “We can’t find Lieutenant Loken. Did you see him go with Lady Kasera Lavarta?”

  I rolled onto my back. It turned out to be an instant mistake as my chest wound had yet to close. An electric agony splintered along the dagger’s wound. “Loken didn’t go with her. He stayed behind.”

  “He’s not among the dead.”

  “What about Sergeants Bren and Saskia?”

  “That might be a little complicated, sir.”

  I managed to lean up. “I’m not exactly feeling my best right now so let’s skip on the ‘sir’s and just tell me how bad it is.”

  “Bren was mauled to death. Saskia is convulsing. There’s blood all over her neck and face. Blood seeping out of her mouth as well. The vampire got them both.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment while my limbs continued to tingle. “Choose your answer to this very carefully because it better not be me. Who’s next in command?”

  Wilbur held his tongue.

  “No.”

  “You were a lieutenant, weren’t you, sir?” There was always one person who knew exactly how to ruin a good euphoria.

  “Who the hell said I was a lieutenant?”

  “Someone said you were primo delta.”

  “Oh, fuck you, fuck them, and fuck all of this. After Sergeants Bren and Saskia, who’s in charge of the general’s vanguard?”

  “Jarmella, I suppose …”

  “Is she still alive?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  A shout broke through the choking smoke of the village massacre. Two soldiers threw themselves down on top of an ally, pining them down like a surgeon was on his way and there was no time to get them liquored up before a leg was coming off.

  I threw one hand up to Wilbur. He helped me onto my feet. I retrieved my blade from Razoz’s skull – careful to avoid his fangs, and searched the lake. It was consumed with mist. Wherever Alysia was, I hoped to all hell that she was safe.

  I needed one arm over Wilbur’s shoulders to steady me. Each breath was still agony. My chest twisted and constricted with every step. My pulse thumped against my ear drums and there was still a reasonable chance that I was still going to die.

  A ‘reasonable chance’ was an understatement for Saskia. Her face was slashed to pieces, the poison-tipped claws of a vampire had raked down from her forehead to her chin. Her armor had been broken apart along her left hand side, wrenched open by the overwhelming strength of her attacker. The side of her neck pulsed with blood as one of the mages ditched a bloodied rag and applied a fresh one to the wound.

  Jarmella rifled through Saskia’s pack. “You’ll be okay.”

  “Please …” rasped Saskia.

  “Don’t talk … you’ll be okay … we’ll get you … where’s the fucking elder leaves?” At last she had it. A small wooden tub with a brown paste inside protecting a fresh luminescent blue leaf within. Volbrig pulled the fresh rag away from Saskia’s neck. Jarmella smeared the paste across the wound, slapped the leaf over the bites marks, causing the skin to sizzle just as Volbrig applied a fresh rag. Saskia shrieked in untold agony, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she went out like a candle in a storm. Jarmella leaned back, her hands covered in blood. Looked to Volbrig. He shook his head at her.

  “Someone needs to take care of her,” said Menrihk. “Anyone?”

  Saskia regained consciousness, now with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t …”

  “You’ll be okay,” blurted Jarmella, now shaking herself.

  The vanguard were starting to draw people together, making a defensive line, keeping the unknown northerners from getting too close.

  “Where’s Loken?” I aske
d.

  Jarmella held onto Saskia’s hand, trying to provide some comfort in her friend’s dying moments. “They took him.”

  “You saw this?”

  “I saw a female vampire knock Loken down and throw him onto the back of a horse with a human rider.”

  “He was still alive?”

  “I’m busy, okay?”

  Saskia blinked back at Ewen, one of the soldiers standing over her. Her face crinkled up, her mouth trembling. “Do it. Please.”

  Ewen drew his sword. Held it over Saskia’s neck.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “Sir, she’s …”

  “Our best chance at survival. We’re bringing her with us.”

  Jarmella shook her head at me, pale and distraught. “We can’t let her turn into one of them.”

  “We have to. We need her blood. And if we’re lucky she’ll turn quick enough to help us find Loken.”

  Wilbur leaned in. “Sir, we’re done here. We’re Miss Kasera Lavarta’s escort on a diplomatic mission. That mission is over and she’s already left.”

  “Yeah, she left on the only ship we had,” I said.

  “The rest of Agnarr’s fleet will return.”

  “Not soon enough. We need to get Loken back before they turn him.”

  Jarmella spoke through gritted teeth. “Sir, I appreciate the gesture but the lieutenant made our orders very clear. We were to keep Miss Kasera Lavarta safe. She’s our mission. Rescuing the lieutenant is not.”

  “Tell me, what secrets does Loken know about the Kaseras? Or about Syuss? Where exactly is General Kasera stationed? What’s the layout of his villa? Who runs it? Who’s the general’s chief of staff? Or Governor Gustali’s? Where are the biggest forts in Syuss? Where is the province weakest? When do the food caravans arrive? When do troop rotations end? What paths do they take when they’re walking back home?”