Amaranthine Special Edition Vol II

by Naylor, Joleene

  The man next to her was equally beautiful, the prince to match his princess. He looked to be in his early thirties, with shimmering chestnut hair that skimmed his shoulders. Like Jeda, he’d made no effort to dress in modern fashion. Instead, he wore a dark blue brocade vest over an old fashioned white shirt. His hands rested elegantly on his lap and his deep gray eyes studied the new arrivals.

  Observations complete, he stood and bowed with a flourish. He straightened, his smile too bright to be genuine, and said something in French that Katelina couldn’t understand.

  Micah, Torina and Loren slid through the door and moved to inconspicuous locations. Jorick nodded politely and greeted the other vampire, though there was no warmth in his voice. “Hello, Traven. What a surprise.”

  “Quite.” The suave brunette’s gaze moved to Katelina. “And this must be the human I have heard so much about.” His eyes revealed his distaste, but he smoothly caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Bonjour.” His eyes held hers a moment longer than necessary, probing their blue depths. Her cheeks flushed and she wasn’t sure how to feel about him. As disappointment flickered over his face, she guessed that he’d been trying to read her thoughts and, though he’d apparently found nothing useful, she instantly disliked him.

  He released her hand and turned to Jorick again. “I believe you all know one another?” He indicated the assembled vampires.

  There were murmurs of acknowledgement from all around, then Jorick asked disinterestedly, “What brings you so far north, Traven? Last I heard you’d forsaken places that had winter.”

  “Ah, yes, but perhaps I decided it was time to see the snow again.” He flashed a debonair smile. “Or perhaps I intercepted a most intriguing visitor.” He snapped his fingers and a slender male turned and hurried out the door as if commanded.

  “A visitor?” Jorick and Oren’s eyes met briefly, both surprised.

  The slender vampire reappeared, followed by a dark skinned male and a short Hispanic. His hands twisted nervously and his brown eyes darted around, just visible under his long, messy bangs. The slender vampire stepped away, but the other two stopped in the center of the room, the dark skinned male next to his charge or, more likely, prisoner.

  Traven smiled like a cat at Jorick and Oren, who both looked confused. “May I introduce my Mexican friend, Jorge.”

  “No Mexicano,” Jorge muttered in thickly accented Spanish. “Guatemalan.”

  Traven ignored his comment. “It was most interesting how we met. Perhaps you’d like to hear the tale, Jorick - or are you in a hurry to be on your way?”

  “I’m sure I have the time.” Though Jorick’s face was unreadable, Katelina knew he was all curiosity inside.

  “Very well.” He smoothly resumed his seat on the sofa. “Jorge and his friends appeared on my land roughly two weeks ago. It was no trouble to dispatch them for trespassing, but this one - ” he cleared his throat “ -he was a distinctly unique specimen with a most interesting story to tell. He insisted that he and his brothers were on their way north to join ‘a dark queen in her war’. Needless to say, I found this fascinating, especially when Jorge finally recalled the name of his ‘dark queen’.” Something in his eyes said that Jorge’s memory had been prodded in a none-too-gentle manner. “With Jorge’s help, we rounded up the other Mexicans Kateesha had persuaded to join her. I have to admit, I found the lengths she went to a bit extreme. Did she really need so many new allies?” He stared into Jorick’s eyes, his tone false friendliness. “Then my sweet Jeda returned with a tale of intrigue. Although she had gone to join Oren in a fight against The Guild, she said the coven turned instead to fight Kateesha. I must admit, I was amused to discover that the same vampires I’d so recently hunted were destined to owe allegiance to my dearest Jeda. How ironic that I’d already dispatched them before learning that they had any connection to her or her errand. I do wonder, Oren, why it was that Kateesha became a target when you had sworn revenge on The Guild?”

  Oren’s nostrils flared with irritation. “We thought she waged war against The Guild too.”

  “Did you? Or is it because she was after him?” He jabbed a long finger at Jorick. “Or rather after something he has! Where is it?”

  Jorick didn’t flinch under the attack. “Where is what?”

  “You know very well! It disappeared at the same time you did! You can’t fool me! I know you have it, or did you give it to her? Did Kateesha already have it? Is that the real reason you turned to fight her? To get it back?” He stood and took a menacing step forward, but suddenly recovered his manners and backed down. “Forgive me,” he said breezily. “I allowed myself to be carried away by the moment.” He offered Jorick an insincere smile.

  Katelina moved closer to Jorick. What was it Traven thought he had? She surveyed the room and found that many of the onlookers had the same question in their eyes.

  Traven seemed eager to change the topic. He turned to Oren. “Has Jorick come to join against The Guild?”

  “No.” Oren’s jaw tightened. “He’s just passing through.”

  Traven brought his hands together in feigned delight. “What exceptional timing he has! And I am so glad he has his pet with him. When Jeda told me the story of Kateesha’s demise, I was shocked! Imagine such a scandalous thing!” His eyes shifted to Jorick. “Of course, all’s well that ends well, as they say, yes?”

  Jorick made a noise in his throat that was a cross between irritation and acknowledgment.

  Traven continued, fake joy in his eyes. “You’re sure you won’t consider joining our fight. I believe with our friend Jorge it will be quite interesting.”

  Torina pushed herself from the wall and came to a stop in front of the nervous Hispanic. She gave him a cool once over. “What’s so interesting about him?”

  “It’s his particular area of expertise. Our dear Jorge is an expert with all things flammable and explosive. He blew apart no less than five of my coven members before he was subdued, and he had enough gunpowder on his person to do considerably more damage.”

  “Won’t that be a bit conspicuous?” Jorick asked.

  “Yes. I intend for it to be.” Traven’s voice turned regretful. “Alas, I fear that discussing plans with one who refuses to join in the fight is unheard of. Especially when we know who his master is.”

  Jorick opened his mouth to answer when one of Traven’s vampires hissed, “Someone’s here!” The room went silent, and everyone visibly tensed. Katelina imagined the cold eyes she’d seen in the trees. As the seated vampires leapt to their feet, she drew towards Jorick. She didn’t have time to say, “I told you so” before the picture windows exploded in a shower of glass.

  Five black clad vampires landed inside, weapons raised and ready. The medallions around their necks winked under the electric lights. Twisted, silver medallions that Katelina recognized instantly.

  Someone shouted the word that she was thinking; a word that filled her with cold dread. “Executioners!”

  **********

  Chapter Eight

  Jorick shoved Katelina behind him, but not before she recognized two of the intruders: Senya and Bren. They’d been at Oren’s mansion in October and had helped murder his wife and children. Katelina would never forget their twisted faces lit by flickering fire light and smug righteousness.

  She wasn’t the only one. With a cry of rage, Oren seized a flowered armchair and hurled it towards them. The Executioners jumped out of the way; Bren and Senya to the right and the other three to the left. The chair shattered against the wall.

  A lone battle cry sounded from Traven’s ranks and the remaining vampires snapped into action. Traven neatly stepped in front of Jeda and barked orders to his seven vampires. They fell into formation around the three Executioners who’d landed on the left side of the room. Meanwhile, Oren grabbed the second armchair and flung it towards Bren and Senya. Fabian and Luna crouched low, waiting to spring and Jorge took advantage of the confusion to sneak towards the dining room.

/>   The sofa became an unspoken battle line. Behind it the fight raged, while in front of it Katelina clutched Jorick, and Traven and Jeda stood with impassive faces, separated from the chaos as if by sheer will.

  Torina took an uncertain step back towards the spectators. Her body was tensed and ready to fight, though her green eyes were fearful as she watched Bren and Senya neatly sidestep the second chair. Indecision was on her face, and Jorick made up her mind for her. “Stay here. There are enough fighting already.”

  At that moment Traven noticed Jorge’s escape. In a few steps, he grabbed his prisoner by the throat and slammed him into the wall. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Jorge pointed at the scene and declared, "Ellos están locos si pelean contra los Atormentadores!"

  The fight continued, loud and violent. Bits of broken furniture and knickknacks flew through the air and voices snarled together, like footprints in a snowy playground, one indistinguishable from another.

  An ear splitting scream sounded over the top of the chaos. One of Traven’s vampires crumpled to the ground, his chest a gaping hole left by an Executioner. Traven growled, and shouted something in French, but it was lost to a second scream.

  Fabian fell to the floor and curled in a ball, clutching his midsection. A pool of crimson spread out from him and soaked into the carpet. Bren stood over him, a bloody blade clutched in his hand and a gloating smile on his lips.

  Micah and Loren quickly took Fabian’s place. Micah shoved Luna out of the way and tackled Bren. He ripped and clawed, but was no match for the older, faster Executioner. Bren raised his short sword and neatly severed Micah’s hand. The appendage fell to the floor and Micah howled in pain. Blood poured from the stub, but he attacked again, his eyes bright coals of rage.

  The sight made Katelina sick. Since Kateesha’s death, she’d told herself she was tougher and stronger. Faced with the carnage, she realized she wasn’t. Killing Kateesha had been a fluke. If she had to fight one of the Executioners she wouldn’t be so lucky.

  Another of Traven’s vampires shrieked in agony. He was pinned to the wall by three long, sharp daggers in his shoulders and his stomach. One of the Executioners made to slam a fist into his chest, but the fatal blow never landed. The dark skinned vampire, who’d guarded Jorge earlier, threw the Executioner to the ground in a squirming, shouting heap that was blocked from view by the couch. One of his fellows dropped quickly to join him and the Executioner screamed.

  Traven’s two vampires were on their feet moments later, blood on their faces and shirts. The dark skinned one gripped a handful of gore that Katelina knew was a still beating heart. He crushed it to pulp in his hand. The remaining Executioners, one female and one male, shouted in outrage and threw themselves at the pair to avenge their comrade. In a single stroke, the female removed the dark vampire’s head. It bounced on the carpet and rolled to a stop near one of the wrecked chairs. The eyes continued to stare, as if the vampire could still see what was happening.

  Katelina shuddered.

  Loren attacked Bren from behind. He managed to wrest the sword from the surprised Executioner’s hand. Bren slammed him in the head with his fist and knocked him to the floor. Before he could attack further, Oren tackled him and they fell back, wrestling and clawing.

  Micah hurried to Loren and stood over him like a guardian. He held his bleeding stump against his side to stem the flow, but his skin had a strange, clingy quality to it. Katelina had seen a vampire drained of blood before, and it was a terrifying sight.

  Loren rolled over slowly, a hand to his head. Red seeped from between his fingers. His mouth moved as he spoke to Micah, though the words were lost behind the noise of the others.

  Katelina felt a bizarre sense of relief. “He’s all right?”

  Jorick didn’t answer. His attention was on Senya, who stalked towards Loren and Micah. Blood ran down her cheek from a gash in her face. Her features were twisted in loathing, and in each hand she held a dagger. Behind her, Luna closed in.

  Weaponless, Bren snatched a nearby vase and swung it at Oren. The lion-maned vampire deflected it with his hands, though it shattered on impact. Bren threw aside what was left of it and snatched up a piece of the splintered chair. He brandished it like a stake.

  Torina started forward. “I’m going to help him!”

  Jorick thrust Katelina at her instead. “Protect her!” he commanded and bounded over the couch.

  Katelina shrieked after him and snatched at the place he’d been. Torina pulled her back angrily. “Stay put!”

  Jorick landed next to Oren and Bren. The Executioner spun to face his new foe. He didn’t have time to raise his weapon before Jorick wrapped an arm around his neck and jerked sharply. With a snap, Bren went limp, his neck broken.

  Jorick let go and Oren caught him. With a savage cry borne of vengeance, he tore at Bren’s throat with his fangs. The Executioner’s blood poured over his face and into his opened mouth. Katelina fought the urge to throw up. She wanted to blot out the scene, but her eyes betrayed her. Oren appeared half mad; his untamed hair fell around his face and his amber eyes were wild. His face was twisted into something animal like and blood ran down his chin and soaked his shirt. Even as he drank, he clawed at Bren’s chest, digging through cloth and skin for his heart.

  While Jorick snapped Bren’s neck, Luna tackled Senya. She wasn’t strong enough to take her down so she rode on her back and squeezed her throat. Senya swung her blades wildly, trying to slash her. One of Traven’s vampires shrieked a death scream and scarlet splashed onto the couch. The far reaching droplets sprayed Katelina and Torina. The contact was too much for the vampiress. She threw Katelina towards Traven and Jeda and leapt to join her brother. She grabbed Bren’s limp body and bit savagely into his shoulder, fighting for her share of the blood.

  Katelina caught herself on the wall and met Jorge’s eyes. He muttered something in Spanish and shook his head. Neither Traven nor Jeda acknowledged her presence. Their attention was on their coven, who still fought the other two Executioners.

  Meanwhile, Jorick dodged Senya’s daggers and tried to take her legs out from under her. His eyes slid sideways to where Oren stood, lips locked on Bren’s neck and the dead vampire’s pulpy heart squashed between his fingers.

  “Oren!” Jorick barked. It was a command, and at the sound, the blonde’s face cleared; the momentary madness gone. Wordlessly, he dropped Bren’s body to the floor and scraped the remains of the squashed heart onto the carpet. Torina knelt jealously over the corpse, still drinking.

  Oren moved towards Senya, his face and shirt shiny with Bren’s blood. “Move!” he bellowed at Luna. She let go of the Executioner and leapt away just as Oren crashed into Senya and threw her to the floor.

  Though she was pinned down, Senya slashed furiously with her twin blades. The daggers cut into Oren’s cheek and shoulder. Luna knelt next to them on the floor and grabbed Senya’s arm. She twisted it and snapped the bones.

  “Kill her!” Oren shouted to Jorick, fighting to hold her bucking body down while Luna grabbed her other arm.

  “Sword!” Jorick shouted to Micah.

  The bald vampire grabbed Bren’s discarded weapon and tossed it.

  Before Jorick could catch it, a new vampire leaped through the shattered window. His motions were so fast that he was just a blur of color as he bounced once off of the floor and landed neatly on the back of the couch in a crouch. In one hand he held Bren’s sword, snatched from midair on his way past, and in the other a medium length sword that reminded Katelina of a ninja movie. Perfectly balanced on the back of the couch like an acrobat, he rose to his full height. Without words, the twisted medallion around his neck said what side he was on.

  He raised both arms, a weapon in each hand. “That’s enough!” he commanded, his voice thunder. The battles around him ceased, suspended by pure shock. With all eyes on him, he broke into a grin and slowly lowered his arms. The terrifying, commanding presence was replaced in an instant, like
he’d changed a mask, and his tone turned conversational. “There’s been enough blood spilled, don’t you think?”

  Katelina was too shocked to comment, but Traven hissed an angry breath between his teeth and snarled, “The Wind Walker!”

  Jorick was also far from speechless. “You!” he bellowed and lunged towards him.

  Verchiel neatly jumped out of his reach and landed in front of the couch. “You don’t look very pleased to see me, Jorick.” Then he raised his voice to address the room. “The fight is over. The Executioners have no argument with most of you, we only want them.” He indicated Jorick, Oren and Katelina. “Put down your weapons and you’re free to go.”

  Katelina gaped at him. The necklace meant he was an Executioner, so why had he helped her and Jorick before? And what did he mean he only wanted them?

  What remained of Traven’s coven looked to their leader. The suave brunette deliberated silently and then nodded. Katelina thought they would resume their attack. Instead, they moved as one and stepped away from their combatants. The two surviving Executioners moved back from them as well, both battle stained and irritated. The female shouted at Verchiel, “It took you long enough!”

  “I thought you’d enjoy some fun, Griselda,” he answered innocently.

  As Traven’s coven moved away from the fight, Katelina’s heart sank. She looked desperately to Oren and the others. Fabian was still curled up on the floor in a sticky pool of congealing blood. Loren clutched Micah’s good arm and stood. He held his friend’s severed hand like a prize. He tried to take a step forward, but swayed on his feet. Micah caught him and held him up. Despite their injuries, their faces reflected defiant determination.

  Torina dropped Bren’s body and rose to a crouch, ready to strike on command, and Luna clutched Senya’s good arm. Oren made an angry noise in his throat, but he reluctantly released Senya and stood. He looked from the new comer to his bleeding companions and defeat flared in his eyes. Silently, he held up his hand, signaling them to back down. Loren sank to the floor wearily, relief on his face. Luna released Senya and moved quickly to Fabian’s side. She tugged him into her lap, and ran her hands over him, seeking his injuries.