What ‘not in a fair fight’, Val wondered desperately? Had Lucas lost to Bruce before? Was he so weak he thought Bruce could kill him?
Shit! Val hadn’t really thought he could lose. Since the day she’d met him, he’d been larger than life. Bigger, stronger— invincible. When he’d said he was unkillable she’d believed him, assumed it was true and never questioned it.
But Marion and Rachel didn’t seem to think he was invincible. Bruce was willing to fight Lucas to the death. He must think he had a chance. And with Lucas injured, maybe he had a good one.
Marion had said Bruce was a renowned fighter. His goal was to win, but failing that, to harm. They’d overwhelm Lucas with numbers, each contestant pecking at him, tearing him down so that by the time Marion had to fight him he’d be too weak to win.
“My liege.” His voice was gravelly. Lucas inclined his head for him to continue. “We have walked this earth together for three hundred and fifty years. You were always reasonable. We all know how you have put the vampires first. Secured our place in the world, but the rumors— ” his gaze flicked to Marion, “say that you seek to bring back the wolves and the Fey. That you would create chaos, even jeopardize everything we fought for.” He lowered his head, deferential as he waited for Lucas to respond.
“You were not present when the Fey and the wolves roamed this world. You do not know, as I do, how our people have changed and lost because of their absence. Either you believe in me, as your Lord and Maker, or you Challenge me. If I am victorious I will do as I see fit. You must either fall in line or die.”
The man shook his head, still unwilling to look at Lucas but disturbed. His words were stilted, as though he wasn't usually prone to talking and wanted to make sure he had the words precise, nothing extra tossed into the world. “My Lord. Always you have had our interests at the forefront of your heart, but you are not the same as you were even a hundred years ago. We are not unaware of your weariness.”
Bruce looked at Valerie from under his lashes, “Happy I am that you think of creating a companion, but I fear it is not enough. Do you wish to kill us all?”
Valerie felt the uneasiness in the room encroaching upon her, constricting her chest like a snake. The crowd shifted uneasily while waiting for Lucas to respond.
None of the vampires seemed shocked by the question. Maybe his hold on the vampires was shaky. Lucas gestured for Bruce to be at ease and the man raised his head, staring intently at Lucas as he waited for his king to respond.
Lucas stood, descending the steps with inhuman swiftness. Bruce stepped backwards, trying to keep Lucas away from him. But Lucas moved forward in a small rush, slashing inhumanly fast, blood suddenly pouring from Bruce’s neck in heavy pulses. Bruce grabbed his throat, eyes wild, trying to keep his blood in his body.
Lucas reached for Bruce’s arm and pulled until the limb came away with a sloppy, aching sound. It was wet and deep, the pop of the bone resonating through Val unpleasantly, like she could feel the vibration of it in her body.
Lucas tossed the arm to Marion, who batted it away from her and tried to keep her composure while ensuring the arm didn’t land in her lap.
Blood spattered Lucas, dripping from his short hair as he lunged at Bruce again. The other arm came free, Bruce falling to the ground, totally shocked by the swiftness of the attack.
Shouldn’t someone have said “go”? Had she blinked and missed it?
Bruce was choking, saying something while Lucas stood over him, waiting for Bruce to die. He was like a little boy with an insect, taking him apart piece by piece.
Finally, when Val was one wet sound away from dry heaving, Lucas grabbed Bruce’s hair, raised his foot, rigid thigh muscles braced against the man's torso, and popped Bruce’s head off, tossing it onto the pile of limbs at his side.
As soon as his head came off, everything was silent.
No one moved or breathed. Bruce stopped moaning. His eyes were wide and then Valerie saw something terrible, something she knew she’d never forget.
Bruce blinked.
He was still alive.
Lucas snapped his fingers and a guard came forward holding a long wooden staff out to Lucas' waiting hand. With a casual move, like a gentleman tapping his cane against the sidewalk, he skewered Bruce through the heart, every piece of him turning to ash in a moment.
Lucas walked back to his throne and sat back down, as though nothing untoward had happened.
He settled himself, running a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his face, blood smearing in his golden locks. He looked at his bloody hand with mild distaste, wiping the blood onto his breeches.
“No. I do not want everyone dead,” he paused, “Come now, who will stand with Marion and Challenge me?” he said it in a happy voice, like he wanted dissent.
Some of the vampires let out shaky sighs. Moving again like a paused movie returned to play.
Marion leaned forward eagerly when the question was asked, waiting to see who would stand beside her, clearly hoping that no one had changed their minds about challenging Lucas.
Several men looked to Marion furtively before quickly glancing away. Val guessed that they had been the undecided ones, and after Lucas’ little display, they were not going to Challenge him. She wouldn’t. As far as torture went, he’d put the evil back in medieval.
Marion was furious, near vibrating in her chair as she stood and began to shout. “Non! It was not a fair fight. The Challenge had not yet begun. You killed him in cold blood!”
Lucas stood, turning to Marion, smile feral. “I don't see how that can be fixed now. As powerful as I am, you expect me to wait? To play your petty games? This is mine. Everyone here is mine! I killed the Fey and the wolves! I brought us out of the dark ages and made us prosper. No one takes from me.” The final words were furious and guttural.
They leaned forward to make sure they caught every syllable, most of the vampires falling out of their chairs to the ground, abasing themselves before him.
He’s a scary bastard and I almost slept with him! Mortified, didn’t begin to cover it.
Marion shouted back at him, “You kill him because you are weak! Admit it, you may not win a fair fight and so you seek to evade the rules, clutching at the throne like a petty tyrant.” Her tone was bitter, but changed to placating and wise, “You are above this Lucas. Let your memory remain untainted. The greatest king who ever ruled does not go out as a cheater, as a shadow of the man you once were. Take your death with honor.”
Lucas chuckled darkly. “Your time will come, my dear. Pray you are right, that I cheat out of weakness rather than disgust at being bound by rules. Or else it will be your ashes in that fireplace.”
Lucas turned from her and hesitantly, another Challenger moved forward.
He was bald, with huge muscles and dark skin. He looked like a genie and Valerie became afraid. This man was just as deadly as Bruce except Lucas wouldn’t have the element of surprise, would have to fight him fairly.
Could he win?
The man was soulless, evil coming off of him in dark currents that polluted the air around him. He was a killer, a figure to inspire children to stay in bed, the threat that lurked in the dark.
“I challenge you because you deserve the final death. You took her from me and I'll kill you for it.”
Lucas was still for a bare moment then gave an ugly laugh.
“Lucretia? You Challenge me because of that bitch? Good god! You are a fool. She could wipe out a village in a night and still want more. She was never satisfied...and she certainly wasn't satisfied by you.”
The bald man clenched his fists in rage, long white fangs extended as he hissed at Lucas angrily.
Lucas regarded him calmly, voice chill and flat. “She asked me to do it. She'd been your companion for only twenty, thirty years? But she welcomed me into her body and before she died, she thanked me.”
The bald man lunged forward, a beefy fist flying towards Lucas' face.
Lucas gra
bbed the man’s arm and threw him forward, using the man's momentum against him. The fight happened so quickly Valerie could barely see the individual movements, the two of them moving in flash choreography, like the fast flicker of a camera lens, each still a violent instant as they pummeled each other.
The man stumbled and Lucas kicked him in the back of the head before he could stand, neck snapping at an unnatural angel. The bald man shook it off, the terrible sound of bones grating against each other as they were forced back into place was like popcorn popping in the cavernous room.
He gave a cry of rage and turned, fury driving him on. Lucas gave ground, let the man push him backwards.
“You know, she wasn’t a real red head.” Lucas taunted casually.
His opponent yelled in rage, swinging harder and faster until his punches and lunges became sloppy.
Val had never seen him like this: playful and murderous. Was this the real Lucas?
Lucas grabbed the man's arm and threw him to the ground, pulling until the man’s arm broke and hung at an odd angle. His foot was on the back of the man's head, and another sickening crunch reverberated off the walls, as his neck re-broke. And then Lucas flipped him over, his hand in a fist as he slammed it into the man's chest, punching through his ribcage.
Everyone seemed to draw a breath at once, one woman clutching her chest sympathetically. Then they exhaled and the action resumed, the audience rustling like disturbed snakes, honing in on the death before them. Lucas pulled his hand out of the vampire’s body, the heart clenched tight in his fist. Then it was all ash, and it spilled from Lucas’ fingers like confetti.
Val stared at Lucas. His face was haggard, harsh lines bracketing his mouth as he dusted his hands. He was half turned from the crowd and she could see his profile, the intensity and determination of him but also, a growing black stain at his side.
It was the wound from the night before and it was seeping, expanding as she watched, like an oil slick in the ocean. Was there something she could do to interrupt the Challenge? Some way to take a break and bandage his wound in hopes that no one else would notice?
As though he knew what she was thinking, he turned to her and shook his head once.
No.
There was no stopping. He turned and faced the crowd. Marion grabbed Rachel’s hand excitedly and whispered in her ear loudly, a stage whisper that carried throughout the room, “Look, he’s hurt. Didn’t I tell you he was weak.”
Lucas ignored them and another man shuffled out of the crowd. He was a thin man of medium build who was so nondescript that as soon as Valerie looked away from him she could barely remember what he looked like. She imagined he’d been a tailor or an accountant in a previous life. He certainly didn’t seem like a threat to Lucas.
“Edgar.” Lucas put a hand on his shoulder. “You Challenge me of your own free will? A contest to the death?”
Edgar flushed and opened his hands nervously. “Yes. Yes I do. The Fey, the wolves. It's lunacy, Lucas. I stood by you as we cut them down. One after the other, all that time ago.”
His voice was wistful, as though lost in remembrance of the battles they had fought together. “Remember, the moon guiding our blades to victory...and you... when the Black Witch took my son, you were there. You cried with me. But now you are not the warrior you were. To seek out that which we destroyed, make them prosper again—why?
Surprisingly, Lucas bowed to him. “My friend, I ask you to rescind your Challenge.”
The man gave a rueful smile. “My Lord, for the love I bear you, I beg you to not pursue the Fey nor the wolves. Life is still exciting enough without creating danger.”
Lucas shook his head in soft denial. “There you are wrong, my friend. We have become like petulant children, destroying the world and humans for a pleasure without boundaries. If anyone is to understand my motives, it should be you.” The man gritted his teeth and looked away from Lucas, the conversation at an end.
Lucas stepped back, no longer the friend, but the king. “How would you Challenge me?”
The man gave a little nod and called for his weapon. A guard came forward, offering a sword. He took it, raised it to his lips and kissed the blade, the silver metal smoking as it made contact with his flesh.
Another guard came forward, handing Lucas a huge broadsword. It was so large and heavy that Valerie knew she wouldn't be able to lift it, let alone wield the thing.
Not that anyone wanted her to fight.
Lucas swung the sword in a lazy arc, testing the heft of it in a practiced move before meeting Edgar in the middle of the room. The people in the front row, closest to the action, looked a little nervous about the two men fighting right in front of them. A guard thumped the ground with his staff, signaling the start of their fight.
Lucas smiled grimly and assumed a fighting stance, giving no indication that he felt the wound in his side, which was now dripping onto the floor. With a harsh clang Edgar’s sword crashed into Lucas’.
Lucas braced himself and turned, twisting his weapon so that Edgar’s blade was deflected to the side. He thrust forward, but Edgar danced back, blocking the thrust and twisting into an attack that pushed Lucas backwards, his sword flashing through the air like lightning.
Lucas was graceful, his body well balanced, the moves and steps more like a ballet than a fight. With each lunge his back was straight and rigid, his thigh muscles bunching with each step.
Valerie was disheartened to realize that she was fixating on Lucas’ hotness instead of the battle to the death that was going on in front of her. She closed her eyes, wanting to block him out: like looking away from the sun.
Edgar was good. Even if he did look like a harried businessman. He was stealthy and fast. But Lucas was a force, unstoppable and inexorable, parrying the blows easily, toying with Edgar until Edgar put a foot wrong, allowing Lucas to lunge in for the kill.
But the smaller man feinted to the side, dropping to the ground heavily while thrusting his sword into the side of Lucas' already bleeding body. With a roar Lucas recoiled, Edgar’s blade glinting with blood.
Lucas gave a snarl of rage, like a wounded animal, as Edgar rolled to his feet and tried to press his advantage, rushing forward and aiming for Lucas' heart.
Lucas stumbled to the side, tilting away from the killing blow so that it ripped his shirt and grazed his chest but didn't enter his body. The force of Edgar's missed thrust carried him forward, into the emptied chairs. Lucas whirled, his sword sinking into Edgar’s torso, just above his belly button, before exiting out near his shoulder.
Lucas didn’t draw his blade free, but stood close to his friend, almost like he was shielding him from the crowd. A look of sad surprise crossed Edgar's face as his features dulled and then dried, falling towards Lucas who, discarding his sword, attempted to catch him before he turned to dust. But it was too late. Edgar was gone, ash raining down on Lucas’ arms and feet.
He wiped the ash across his chest, over his heart, smearing the bloody scrape Edgar had made with the man’s ashes, as though making Edgar a part of him.
Valerie felt Lucas’ pain crash into her as his mental shields lowered for a moment. His side blazed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the grief that overcame him for having to kill his friend.
A dozen images passed through her mind, like rocks skipping over the still surface of a cold lake: Lucas and Edgar on horseback talking, them both drinking blood from the same woman, Lucas pressed to her front as Edgar was pressed to her back, Edgar kneeling over a body and weeping while Lucas watched and stood guard, protecting his grieving friend. Then the memories were zipped away from her and she felt like a voyeur.
Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel) Page 26
