by Kiki Howell
"I can't do that." She stared at his once bright eyes then held her wrist to his mouth. "Now drink."
Tristan pushed it away. "No. Get Remelia and burn this place down."
"Listen to me. I have Remelia, but I need you. I can't do this alone." She bit into her wrist and let the blood trickle onto his lips. The heady taste alone was enough to make him open his mouth. Pressing her wrist to him, she sighed as his lips created suction, siphoning her powerful blood into him.
Tristan found a peace he dared to describe in taking in her blood. It was fire and rain at the same time. It spoke volumes to her power. Her gift of strength was gracious, but what he really wanted was her.
He pulled himself up and released her wrist. He looked into her eyes as she wiped the blood from his lips. "Don't you listen to anyone, Black Blood?"
She smiled. His scars were healing and the light in his eyes grew bright again. He was quite dashing when he wasn't half-dead.
"No. And you should be grateful of my rebellious behavior, vampire."
He pulled her into a kiss. Deep and hungry, he couldn't help but taste and want her.
"I am grateful." He stood up and looked around for his guns. "Where's Takeshi?"
Zoë pointed to the other side of the room. "He angered me."
Tristan saw his body limp on the floor. His neck looked like a string of cooked spaghetti. "Indeed."
Seeing his holster and guns on the other table, he grabbed them and slipped it on.
"Remelia has been freed."
"Good." He looked around. "Have you seen Christophe?"
Her eyes softened as she looked down. "I was too late. He's gone."
Tristan slammed his fist on the table. He knew Christophe for so long. He was trustworthy and fair, yet he died alone. "I'll make Dashiell pay for this. The funeral has started. There’ll be at least 200 vampires between us and The Three. Does that worry you?"
A wicked smile grew on Zoë's face. She slowly shook her head. "Not at all."
.
Chapter Twenty: The Fallen
THE HALL WAS filled with vampires coming from all over to pay final respect to Javen’s consort, Ivana. Mounds of lilies and monstrous banners flew high and adorned every area of the space. It was a farewell suitable for a queen, just as the people and The Three wanted it to be. They sat patiently on their respected thrones like dolls as vampires touched the sleek black casket where the last of her remained. Her final coffin. Constance and Drago turned to Javen, giving him a cue that it was time to speak. Javen straightened his tie and sash as he ascended the platform.
Tristan used his knife to quietly take out one of the guards near the hall’s entrance while Zoë took out the other breaking his neck. Laying their bodies quietly on the floor, they kept stealth as they moved to the other end. There were four more guards at the main door.
Zoë squeezed her body tight along the edge of the wall with Tristan right next to her. The guards were facing out, attentive and armed to the teeth. Apparently, The Three didn’t want any surprises.
Well tough titties. Cause they had one hell of a surprise to offer. Tristan turned to her. “If we trigger gunfire, the crowd will be on our ass and we’ll have a shit time getting to The Three.”
“You let me handle crowd control. First thing’s first. Let’s adios the guards. Quick and quietly.”
“That’s a long way to get to them before they sound the alarm, princess.” He eyed her suggestively, hinting at an opportunity.
She sighed. Seriously? “Ugh, must I do everything?”
“You’re the one with the great ass, Zoë. We can trade up if I get the gift.”
“What about you? It’s not like I can direct my enthrallment that way.”
“I’ll live.”
“No, I have a better idea.”
The guard jumped as they saw a curvy, figure walk up the hall from the shadows. The clomp of her boot heels against the marble floor held a slow, methodical rhythm. They stood at attention. Probably more ways than one, but Zoë was still too far away to tell.
“The funeral has already started and this is invite only.” One guard said.
“Well, that’s too bad. I’ve come a long way to pay my respects. I’m sure if you slip me in, no one would be the wiser.” She continued closer with wide, reflective eyes. Just a little bit closer...
“Are they expecting you?”
She paused as she finally got close enough to do damage. “Not really.”
Tristan only heard the swift sounds of a blade through both air and matter, before seeing one of the guard’s heads roll past him down the slope of the hall.
Running ahead, he saw the carnage left at her feet as she turned around to face him. An arterial spray of blood slashed across her beautiful olive face.
“There’s a side entrance that leads up to the catwalk. That’s the best way inside without disrupting the herd.”
A gunshot ruptured through the silence as Zoë was kicked back against the wall. She yelled as the white hot blaze from the bullet burned into her chest. Tristan turned to find Dashiell smiling holding a large caliber rifle. “Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it bitch!”
Tristan aimed his guns at him but darted between Zoë sliding down the wall, subdued.
“I gotta tell you, Tris, you hang with a pretty strange crowd. At first, I only thought Black Bloods were a myth. I mean, come on—a badass demon that eats vampires? Sounds like a bullshit boogeyman, right?” He scoffed. “That was my bad. I knew she was hot and you were probably the lucky guy fucking her, but after she nearly destroyed me and my crew, I knew something was up. So I started looking in the Three’s old armory. These blessed rounds pack quite a wallop.” He inclined in head over to where she laid panting. “Shake it off, cupcake.”
“Your shit is with me, so let’s finish this.”
Dashiell grinned. “You know, you are something else. Still the gentleman.”
Tristan moved and Dashiell cocked his gun. “If I put a shot to the head with a round like this, it’s over for her. So drop your weapons.”
Tristan dropped both guns on the floor. “You and I both know that only one of us is going to be alive before daylight, Dashiell. Don’t prolong the inevitable.”
Dashiell laughed. “For a morose, vampire with obviously a death wish, I expected you a little less...involved in these events.”
“Shit changes.”
“Indeed they do.” Dashiell looked around and shrugged. “You know? What the hell, right? We can settle this the old way. I imagine it’s just a formality, really. So everyone knows you fell by my hand.” He dropped the gun and prompted him to come. “That is, if you can handle an audience.” He threw a dagger and missed Tristan, laughing as he went up to the side stairs into the rafters taunting.
Tristan turned and leaned over Zoë. The wound didn’t close and she writhed in pain. “Let me help you.”
Gritting through the pain, she pushed him away. “I’ll make it! Go! Get that son of a bitch!” She leaned back as he ran up the swirling stairs after Dashiell. Her skin kept throbbing into a black hue, trying to heal, but it was no use. A blessed round couldn’t be dug out or pushed out. When Black Bloods got hit with blessed rounds, they either did one of two things: find a man of the cloth or go home where the wound could heal. Panting, she tried to sit up. She wasn’t ready to go home. She had a job to do. And Jay was too far away for another emergency call. It was time to nut up or shut up.
Pulling herself slowly to her feet she called to her hunger. That deep hunger that if not fed triggered something darker within her.
Dashiell and Tristan fought hand to hand, grappling, punching and kicking to inflict the greatest pain. Tristan caught Dashiell, flipping him over onto the catwalk. Jumping after him, he landed a punch. Then another. Dashiell pried away from his hold and caught Tristan with a jab. Running his tongue across his lips, he smiled. “That’s all you got?” Dashiell growled and charged to him, releasing a series of blows that pushed Tristan again
st the rail. “Well, that was fun. Not as fun as it’ll be to enslave that cute little Black Blood bangtail after you’re gone. Now she has a taste for vampire cock, maybe she’ll be my new entertainment after The Three gives me a cut of enemy land.” He stretched his body and advanced on Tristan, but paused as he ran his dagger forcefully into Dashiell’s chest. “That’s for Ivana.” He shoved the blade deeper. “That’s because you’re a dick.” He released Dashiell and let his body plummet to the bottom of the hall alerting the vampires below.
To the screams and growls, The Three looked up to see Tristan on the catwalk.
Javen pointed. “That insolent bastard! Shoot him!”
Everyone scattered at gun fire rang out through the hall, including The Three. Guards, both house and Royal came out of the woodwork. Javen turned as Constance grabbed his arm.
“We need to get out of here!”
He pulled his arm back and hissed. “I’m not going anywhere except going up there to kill him! It’s time he’s finished!” He pushed her away and went to grab his sword.
Drago and some of the guards sneaked out the back. “Hurry and get me the fuck out of here. Take me to my safe house immediately.”
“Yes Sir,” an anonymous guard acknowledged. Walking down the hall, the guards led him to the limousine and opened the door for him to get inside. Taking a breath, he looked up to see Otto sitting in the back with him.
“Hello Drago.”
Confused, Drago looked around. “What the hell are you doing here, filthy sobaka?”
Otto smiled with full upper and lower fangs ready. He took off his shades. “Just...contributing to the cause. I warned you long ago that if I ever got close to you, I would make you pay for the atrocities of my shifters.”
Drago shook but growled at the gall of the age old Were-shifter “Otto!”
“No sympathy for the Devil.” Otto morphed and teeth were the last thing Drago saw as terror tore into him.
TRISTAN CLIMBED DOWN to the bottom as the patrons spilled out the pandamonium and the guards remained. He pointed at the only remaining monarch in the hall. “I’m challenging him and him alone. But if you stand in my way, I will cut you down.”
The guards stood like a sea between him and Javen, who stood seething at the podium. “You’ve got a lot of balls coming in here, Tristan!”
“I wonder if your Royal guards would stilll respect you knowing you fooled them into supremacy by having your own companion murdered. Tristan called out.
Some of the guards looked at each other.
Javen scoffed. “You are no longer of the Royal guard, commander. You’re delusional and toxic to our vampire ways. You’re a traitor.”
“And you’re a liar.” He gestured him to come. “You no longer have Dashiell to do your dirty work. If you want me dead, you have to work for it.”
Javen looked at the group of guards and protection at least forty deep and replied with an arrogant smirk. “So do you.”
Everyone’s attention turned behind Tristan as the hall doors opened and a pair of bright violet eyes shone past pitch black skin. Her fangs were longer than usual and belonged to a face that was fuming. The air around Zoë snapped and hummed with energy as she slowly walked in with a sword in each hand.
“Oooh,” she cooed in an otherworldly, demonic voice. “Looks like you guys want to play. Hmm?” She inhaled the scent of vampire blood in the room. “Good. So do I.”
Javen stepped back in horror as he watched her “Holy shit.”
Tristan’s hair rose on the back of his neck as the static in her presence was absolutely palpable. She was beautiful. A venus flytrap of a woman—deadly and gorgeous.
Zoë inclined her head to Tristan and tossed him the other sword in her hand and smiled. It was the first time, he’d seen her beast and commended him for not running away. Admirable. “Need a path, cowboy?”
Tristan nodded.
“Kill them!” Javen ordered.
A wicked grin grew on her face as she twirled her sword in her hand. The room began to shake as her wings grew and extended and with superior strength, one beat of them forced a wind through the hall that blew the guards back several feet.
Tristan took that opportunity to slash through the guards to leap onto platform where Javen waited for him.
Not giving the guards an opportunity to recover, she readied her sword and began cut through the fray.
CONSTANCE PUSHED PAST the swarm of vampires and out the back hall, trying to catch her breath. Javen and Drago had to be somewhere in this chaos. It was Javen’s fault this crumbled, she thought to herself.
“Leaving so soon?” A firm, female voice broke Constance’s concentration.
Turning around, her eyes focused on a woman with jet black hair and dark furious eyes. Her dark red dress still had salt embedded in the cloth.
Constance scoffed and straightened her body to face her. “Remelia.” She crossed her arms. “What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Something I perhaps should’ve done a long time ago.” As she walked forward, her body began to glow. “You want my head?” She stopped and frowned. “Then come take it...if you can, vampire.”
Constance gripped the dagger behind her. “Little green girl bitch!” Anger rising, she unsheathed the knife and with a shriek, she ran charging towards Remelia, who held something behind her back. “I’ll see you dead like the others!”
With a swift strike of the silver hand-held scythe, Constance silenced and staggered backwards. She gasped at the burning slash against her throat, bracing against the wall.
Remelia held it up and smiled. “You’ve always underestimated your enemies, Constance.” Before the wound closed, she pulled her hand back, using magic to keep the wound open. Constance gagged as blood continued to spill out. “Your reign ended the moment you sent death to my daughters’ door. The moment you killed and tortured your own.” Constance couldn’t speak only held on for survival as Remelia walked up to her. “That is for Ivana and me.” She dropped the scythe from her other hand and a white ball manifested into her palm. Constance’s eyes widened in terror. “And yes, is for the green girls you’ve slaughtered.” She pushed the white glowing ball into her mouth and walked away casually. “Ab intus illuminet.”
With a shrieking, painful cry and bright light, Constance turned to ash behind her.
TRISTAN STALKED AROUND Javen with his sword drawn. Both wouldn’t take their eyes off each other. As the lightning struck, both of them ran and clashed metal to metal, fighting as if it was the end of the world. With a furious slash, Tristan hissed at the slice at his skin. Javen shrugged. “I admire your bravery, Commander. But your age is only a drop in the bucket compared to me!” He punctuated his statement with another clash of swords. Overpowering Tristan, Javen pushed harder against the blade until Tristan grounded his teeth and used his power to shift him away and planted a solid kick to his face. “Things change, highness.”Javen staggered back and in frustration, swung high to try to take Tristan’s head from his body. Ducking, he moved back and rebound to engage tit for tat, the blades reflecting against their eyes. Javen’s face twisted in disgust. “You think the vampires will be able to make it without us? Hmm? When we formed The Three, there was nothing but a bunch of covens fighting for survival! Scavenging and hiding from humans! Is that what you want your people to be?” He swung his blade against Tristan’s in a heated block. Tristan felt Zoë’s blood deep within him dying to be released. It scorched his veins and tensed his muscles. Tristan looked at the ground below then at Javen before moved in to strike. “You don’t give us enough credit.” Clink! Clink! He forced Javen back with each hit. Javen could barely keep himself protected holding his sword with both hands. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty resilient!” Javen swung and knocked the sword out of Tristan’s hand and off the balcony. Javen smiled and shook his head. “You’re so noble, Commander. I hope you rest in peace. Javen raised the blade over his head and swung down with all his might. His eye
s widened at Tristan catching the blade between his hands. The incredible strength from Tristan not only stopped the blade from contact, but with a straining body, he shifted it to the left. Javen’s body shaking, he growled. “You son of a bitch! I am a king!” With fluid motion, Tristan kicked the sword out of his hand, grabbed it and sliced across Javen’s throat.
His surprised expression frozen, he fell to his knees and his head fell beside him. Tristan looked down at his body and threw the sword down next to it.
“Long live the king.”
WALKING OUT OF THE hall, he saw Zoë leaning against the wall, holding herself. Running to her, he caught her and cradled her as she fell. “Dammit Black Blood. What have you done?” He looked her over and frowned as the wound as still open and bleeding. “Why did you lie to me?”
Zoë opened her eyes and sighed. “You needed help. I helped you. What do you want from me, vampire.”
“My name is Tristan.”
She grunted with a smile. “Tristan.” She closed her eyes as he smoothed her hair back. A gentle caress that once again felt so intimate and foreign to her. “Blessed rounds are a bitch to remove. I have to leave. I figured that if I couldn’t plug the hole, I’d at least keep my feeding up to offset.” She shivered in his arms.
“Did it work?”
Zoë looked up at him. “Saved your ass, didn’t I?”
“That you did.” Tristan picked her up into his arms and carried her out to the foyer, where there was a mix of vampires, Were-shifters and Remelia present. “How can we get you back?” he asked.
“Jay’s.” She started to lay her head against him.
“No, that’s too far. You won’t make it.”
“Why do you care?” She mumbled against his chest.
Tristan didn’t answer. He walked her over to Remelia, who turned in alarm. “What happened?”
“Blessed round. She has to go back. You pulled her from her plane before, can you send her back?”
Remelia looked at the wound, then at Tristan and nodded quickly. “Yes, I can.” She opened the grimoire in her hand and looked around til she picked up a piece of stone from the obliterated statues.
