Vandar and Julian faced each other, both naked to the waist. Vandar’s blond dreads flowed down his back. Vandar was standing still, but he was strangely restless. He reminded Sky of a smoker who craved a cigarette badly. A broad belt ran around his waist, anchoring a leather scabbard with an iron hilt sticking from it.
Julian stood with his legs slightly apart, hands open, relaxing into the coming fight. Marek and Kraeyl stood between them, like referees in a boxing match.
“Do you, Azryal, as reaper and guardian of the Creed, consent to abide by the outcome of this match?” Marek asked.
“I consent,” Julian said.
Turning to Vandar, Marek said, “Do you, LaHaaz, as one who has abandoned the Creed, consent to be bound by the outcome of this match?”
Kraeyl looked ready to knock Vandar to the ground and sit on him till the clock ticked down. “This is against my counsel, my lord,” he said.
“Consent given,” Vandar said, his cool eyes on Julian.
His face fixed into careful neutrality, Kraeyl said, “Duly witnessed.”
“Very well.” Marek looked from one Shade to the other, then spoke again, his voice raised to echo off the garden’s stone ledges. “To all who stand witness, let it be known, as in times of old, that this honor fight is to the death.”
“What?” Sky surged forward against Viper’s impossibly tight grip, but he was too big, too strong. “They can’t. Not for me,” she said in her ghost of a voice. “Make them stop.”
Viper covered her lips with a cold hand and spoke into her ear. “You want to see Julian die today?”
Sky shook her head and tried to say, “No, no, no!”
“Then shut up. Let him concentrate.” Viper slid his hand away.
Below, Vandar and Julian circled each other. Marek and Kraeyl stood well back, legs spread, hands behind their backs, vigilant sentries. In a fight to the death, Sky wondered, what was the penalty for breaking the rules?
Julian moved his hands through a blur of motion. Then they were in front of him, knives out. He bent his knees, leaning slightly forward, watching Vandar.
Vandar drew his knife, a short, cruel-looking blade that looked completely at home in his big hand. They circled each other in what looked like slow motion to Sky.
In a move too quick to follow, Julian spun and kicked out, aiming for Vandar’s legs. Vandar jumped back, avoiding the blow, his face revealing nothing.
“I’ll enjoy her each day in my bed,” Vandar said, circling Julian. “After I drink from her.”
His face so hard it could have been made of marble, Julian said nothing. He lunged and scored two quick slashes to Vandar, one on each cheek.
“You’ll have a hard time draining more mortals after I rip out your fangs,” Julian said. With a low growl, he sprang forward and struck again.
Vandar ducked a roundhouse kick and rolled, then came to his feet. As she watched, Vandar, his dreads flaring out behind him, rushed Julian, weaving past his knives, and punched his throat.
Instead of staggering, Julian leaned into the blow, dropped the knife in his left hand, and grabbed Vandar’s wrist in a brutal grip. Using the caught wrist for leverage, Julian brought his right hand up and slashed deeply across Vandar’s chest.
Wrenching free, Vandar shot straight up into the air, curled his legs under him, avoiding Julian’s flashing blade aimed at his ankles. Flipping over in midair, Vandar landed behind Julian.
Whirling around fast enough to make his hair fly out around him, Julian faced Vandar.
“You’re ashes, LaHaaz.” A thin cut high on Julian’s left cheek dripped blood. He circled right, his empty left hand raised, palm out, his right hand holding his knife in a relaxed grip, close to his body.
Vandar maintained silence.
The two warriors moved around each other in a kind of slow dance, neither striking, neither speaking, both focused on one thing: killing.
Julian hunkered down, low to the ground, then launched himself at Vandar. In a tangle of bodies, they both hit stone and rolled, grappling and snarling.
Julian landed on top, his knife at Vandar’s throat.
“Yield,” Julian said through clenched teeth, “or I saw your throat clean through to your spine before I sink my blade in your left eye.”
“Not to the death?” Sky asked Viper.
“Julian’s choice,” he murmured.
Silent, Vandar glared at Julian.
“Why doesn’t he yield?” Sky asked in her horribly coarse voice.
“A warrior never backs down,” Viper whispered. “Better to die.”
With a furiously violent twist, Vandar bucked, throwing Julian off balance. Hammering a punch just above Julian’s left ear, Vandar stunned him long enough to shove Julian off.
Vandar sprang to his feet, unarmed. He’d lost his knife in Julian’s attack. Blood welled from tiny cuts on his neck, his face.
Julian gave a battle cry and lunged, his knife aimed at Vandar’s belly. He jumped back, barely escaping Julian’s blade.
They retreated. Their gazes never left each other.
“She is mine, reaper,” Vandar said. “You fight only to gain that which already belongs to me.”
Julian aimed a hard kick at the side of Vandar’s head. He snapped his head back, but he was too slow. The blow landed hard enough to shatter his jaw. Vandar stumbled back.
A stifled groan of pain made Sky look to her right, where Harli was restraining Maggie, his arms at her waist. Misery was written all over the young vampire’s face. Tears stood in her eyes. A trail of pink slid down one cheek. Sky felt the same aching misery every time Julian got hit.
Oh God, Sky thought, no.
No.
Julian was winning. And if that happened, Vandar would be ripped out of Maggie’s life. She would be the one left behind. The way Sky had been left behind when death snatched her parents. She had to stop the fight. Because she loved Julian. Because Maggie loved Vandar. Because death would have to take Sky first before she stood by and let another be the one left behind.
All right, then, Sky decided. All right.
No more.
No goddamn more.
She raised her left foot almost to her waist, and with all her pent-up rage at death, drove back and down. She scored a direct smashing hit to Viper’s kneecap. Shadow Worlder or not, physics was physics. Sky’s blow threw him off balance for just a moment.
Surprised, Viper cursed like a demented sailor. His grip loosened a second. That was all Sky needed. She tore free and ran to Maggie.
“Do you love him?” Sky whispered from her pain-racked throat.
“I would die for him,” Maggie said through her tears.
“Get back with Viper,” Harli said.
“Let her go.” Sky backed away, moving to the edge behind her. “I mean it, Harli. I’ll let myself fall.”
Viper was coming toward her, but he stopped dead when he heard her threat. “You can’t fly yet, Sky. You’re too close to the edge.”
“No,” Sky whispered. “You’re too close. Back off.” She swallowed around the stone and forced herself to talk through the pain. “Tell Harli to let her go.”
Behind her, Sky heard the men clash again. And this time, she was sure she heard bones crack.
“Do it,” Viper said to Harli.
As soon as Harli released her, Maggie raced to the edge, ready to jump, but Sky turned and grabbed her hand. “No. Together.” She tried to say more, tried to say how this time death wasn’t going to win. But her throat clenched to the point of agony.
Maggie seemed to understand. She turned her fingers so she was holding Sky’s hand.
Viper sidled along the edge, parallel to Sky and Maggie. “Don’t, Sky,” he said in a tight voice. “You won’t die, but you’ll be hurt.” He came a small step closer. “If another male enters the field of battle, Vandar wins by forfeit. We can’t fly down after you.”
Concentrating on each word, Sky said, “Then don’t.”
“Think of being light,” Maggie said.
Viper rushed at them.
The first step was the hardest. Maggie gripped Sky’s hand tightly. Then…they were falling.
Air rushed past, filling Sky’s ears with a dull roar. Speed pulled her hair straight. She had time to see Julian break away from the fight. As the ground rushed at her, she closed her eyes and thought, I win.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Hard arms stopped Sky’s fall. Maggie’s hand was torn from hers, and Sky heard her crying.
Julian’s soothing voice flowed over Sky, murmuring, telling her she was all right. Eyes open, Sky tried to say she was sorry, that she’d just wanted the fighting to stop, but her agonized throat made words impossible.
Blinding pain, like red-hot glass spikes, ripped through Sky. It started in her mouth, then exploded through her whole body, as if she were shattering from the inside out.
Julian!
She tried to call out to him, but she couldn’t get so much as a whisper past her lips. Something drilled between her teeth, both her top and bottom gums. Pain was her world. Thirst ravaged her.
“Let it happen,” Julian said, stroking her cheek. “Don’t fight it.”
Suddenly Sky knew how to make the hurting stop.
Julian had been right. She didn’t have a choice. She grabbed his face and forced his head to one side until she could see his pulsing vein. She spat out the stone, raised her head, and fastened her mouth to Julian’s neck.
Warmth flowed down her throat.
Then she was falling again, but Julian was with her. He was everywhere, holding Sky, keeping her from the fire.
* * * *
Even as Sky fed from Julian, his beast rampaged inside him, driven by battle lust. He’d been close to bringing Vandar down for the last time. Viper landed in front of Sky and Julian, shielding them from Vandar.
“Where were you?” Julian said, not moving, keeping his neck against Sky’s lips. “I left her with you.”
“She’s got a hell of a kick,” Viper said, drawing his knives, turning his back to Julian. “Can she drink enough?”
“Her fangs are thin,” Julian said, “but they’re not breaking off.”
He didn’t move until Sky’s mouth fell away. She went limp in his arms. He laid her gently on the grass. Her head lolled to one side. She wasn’t breathing. But color was rising to her cheeks. He checked her teeth and saw four thin fangs. The bite she’d given him was already healing.
Sometimes a revenant was overcome by the first thirst, and they drank before their fangs were strong enough to feed them. Sky’s scent hadn’t changed. There was no way for Julian to know if she’d drunk enough to turn her blood poisonous.
Julian let himself think over the last few seconds. Sensing Sky falling, he’d broken away from the fight. Vandar had run after him toward the ledge, and they’d stood shoulder to shoulder, arms out. A detail came back to Julian now. Sky and the female Vandar had brought with him—Maggie—had been holding hands as they fell. When Julian caught Sky, he’d seen Maggie grab Sky’s hand tighter, then let go, as if she were saying thank you.
A few feet away, Maggie was standing on shaky legs, leaning against Vandar. Julian had never seen his brother like that with a female. Blood dripped from cuts on his cheeks and arms. He winced in pain from the deep gash in his chest every time Maggie moved. But Vandar was holding her, running his hand slowly up and down her back, murmuring in her ear.
Kraeyl ignored them, stepped in front of Vandar, and said to Marek, “You have lost. Your combatant was the first to leave the ground of battle. Prepare the female SkyLynne to leave with Lord Vandar.”
“Of course,” Marek said. “I’ll send for the contract and sign it here. Then you may take SkyLynne and leave. No reason to further inconvenience you.”
“No,” Kraeyl said. “Your tricks are at an end, Belayth. We will go to your audience chamber. You will execute the contract, and Lord Vandar will take what is his.”
“It sounds to me, Vazzago,” Marek said slowly, “as though you are doubting my word, questioning my honor. I hope I am mistaken.”
Julian knew Marek. When he wanted to do something, he moved like lightning through ice. He was stalling for time they desperately needed, so Julian’s blood could take hold in Sky, if she had enough in her.
“Yet another honor fight?” Kraeyl was livid. “Enough. This farce has run on too long. I will not allow—”
“Let him bring the contract,” Vandar said. “Is the female not mine to take?”
“It is now twelve minutes past the agreed-upon contract deadline,” Kraeyl said to Vandar. “You have won the contest by forfeit.” He turned to Marek. “Very well. Have it brought. As counselor to Lord Vandar, I hereby advise you. Should you fail to execute the contract, I will consider it a declaration of war against the Dominion.”
At a nod from Marek, a sentinel leaped down from a ledge behind Julian and moved in a flicker through the arch that led out of the gardens. His sleeveless black uniform showed a red double dagger tattoo on his left bicep, the mark of the king’s personal guard. They killed on Marek’s command, without question. And they never worked alone. More of them had to be hidden in the gardens, waiting for a signal from Marek.
“Sit down with her, Vandar,” Marek said, indicating a nearby bench. “The effort of preventing SkyLynne from crashing to the ground has left Maggie weakened.”
Now Julian knew what had slowed Sky’s fall. He watched Vandar lift Maggie and carry her to a bench. Kraeyl followed, nearly baring his fangs at Marek as he passed.
Silence settled over the gardens.
Marek stood perfectly still.
Kraeyl paced.
Viper held his knives in a grip that promised quick death. Beside him, Harli looked ready to kill hard and fast. Down on one knee beside Sky, Julian waited with well-practiced patience. All around them, grass whispered.
Sky shifted and opened her eyes. Julian bent and kissed her temple. “Remind me not to make you mad when you’re hungry,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said in her still-coarse voice. “I wanted the fight to stop. Don’t be mad, Julian. I couldn’t let—”
Quieting her, Julian said, “Don’t talk for a while. Let your throat heal.”
The sentinel returned and presented a rolled parchment and a wet quill to Marek. He unrolled it and took the quill.
Julian got to his feet.
“Sentinels won’t attack if a female’s with us. They’ll chase,” Viper murmured. “We’ll lose them in the tunnels. Give it a few more seconds.”
Marek signed the contract.
It happened from one instant to the next.
Sky’s scent changed.
To Julian, it was the scent of forever. Sky’s blood was now poison to every Shadow Worlder but him.
* * * *
Vandar felt the promise of red gold evaporate like mist at dawn. Even from afar, he could smell the poison running through SkyLynne’s veins.
Using the Influence, coming to the gardens, staging the honor fight. It had all been part of Marek’s tactic to gain time for SkyLynne’s fangs to grow in. And if Vandar had died in the fight, so much the better for Marek the Good. Vandar should have seen that Julian would be desperate enough to try the Dark Kiss. He’d been so distracted by Marek’s use of Influence, he’d missed the higher strategy.
What to do now? How did he preserve his empire in the face of this defeat? Slowly, he remembered an answer Oracle had given, Victory comes to those who have the wits to behold it. Before sunset, Vandar’s warriors would learn of this, and when they did, it was crucial that he look like the Lord of the Dominion retreating with honor, not a warrior skulking away in defeat.
Focusing on what could be salvaged, Vandar said, “Well done, Marek.” He came to his feet, watching Julian help SkyLynne up. “You’ve proved once again that your reputation for staying within the law is exaggerated and unfounded.”
“Bring it before the council,” M
arek said, all of his polite reservation gone.
Vandar saw that he had woefully underestimated the king’s love for Julian.
Love. A stain of this world. Useless. He felt Maggie’s light weight pressing against him. He thought of how he’d actually stood beside Julian, refusing to take his eyes off Maggie as she fell. She wasn’t strong enough to help another fly yet. She’d risked grave injury jumping with SkyLynne. She’d behaved foolishly. It seemed foolish behavior brought on by abysmal insanity was the main purpose of love.
And perhaps he’d fallen victim to a kind of insanity. If he had struck as Maggie fell, Julian would be dead, and SkyLynne would belong to Vandar. Maggie’s body would have been very broken. She would have healed, but somehow Vandar knew she would have never given herself to him again. And since he had no intention of letting her go, he would have had to take her by force. No intention of letting her go? When had that come about?
He knew the exact moment. It had been as he watched Maggie fall. With a single step from a high balcony, she had risked incurring his deadly wrath to save his life.
Squeezing close to him, Maggie asked, “How badly are you hurt, my lord?”
He allowed her into his arms. The blood thirst hurt far worse than any wound Julian had inflicted, but with Maggie so near, the pain was bearable. “As younglings say,” he told her, “I’m not dead yet.” Her hesitant smile let in more light than the dawn sun.
Kraeyl held out a hand to Marek, open and demanding. “The contract,” he said.
“The territory and SkyLynne are both property of Lord Vandar.” Marek handed the parchment to Kraeyl. “Unless he chooses to cede either of them.”
Furious, Kraeyl said, “This was grievously done. The council will hear of it.”
“I am sure they will be much interested in Vandar’s sudden quest to acquire red gold,” Marek said, giving an elegant bow of his head. “I look forward to reading your arguments, counselor.”
His eyes glowing crimson with rage, Kraeyl said to Vandar, “Bring the new revenant. She is yours by right.”
Vandar gave Julian a long look. SkyLynne stood beside him. She was walking poison. It was pointless to take her now except as a gesture of defiance. Vandar wasn’t above doing that, but it would serve no purpose. His reaper brother would pursue him relentlessly. Better to search again the territory that was now his and seek out a mortal with A sub D.
Reaper's Dark Kiss Page 23
