SURVIVAL (Fire & Ice Book 2)

by Karen Payton Holt

  The vampire’s own eyes glowed with excitement as he increased the pressure.

  Connor’s clenched jaw pulled the tendons in his neck into cables of steel, denying the vampire’s probing fingers purchase.

  As bewilderment glazed his attacker’s face, Connor stabbed an index finger hard into the notch at the base of his throat and crushed the vampire’s windpipe. His eyes widened in shock, and Connor said, “And there is your second mistake.”

  His fingers remained rammed into the vampire’s neck, who’s puffing breath splattered Connor in cold congealed blood. Waving the fingers of this free hand in front of the vampire’s face, Connor said, “Never release one restraining hold to gain another. You see, now, I can do this.”

  The conversational tone was psychosis in action as movement illustrated the words. He drove his fist up in a blow which detached the vampire’s jaw. The shocked white face disappeared from sight as his head rolled backwards.

  The vampire had an upside down view of Councilor Serge’s creaking form rushing forward, until the grass rushed up to fill his vision. His face was crushed into the field by his own shoulder blades pressed into the back of his head when his body hit the ground.

  A shift in air pressure indicated the distant approach of vampires hurtling through the forest at speed, and Serge’s frustrated anger galvanized his wasted limbs into agitated movement. His tumbling gait stumbled over every pothole in the ground, his arms waving like a crow in its death throes. Closing in on the focus of his overwhelming jealousy, Serge launched himself at Connor’s throat.

  You’ve gotta be kidding me. Connor cocked his head and decided it was payback time.

  He drew to his full height and waited until Serge’s clawed hands clambered up his body. He enjoyed the full visual impact of the tantrum as Serge’s nails skidded over the tight skin of his chest, and his shirt shredding under the attack.

  With a deadpan expression, Connor locked eyes with Serge, clamped his hand over one withered wrist, dragged the tobacco yellow fingers away from his face, and extended the thin arm upward.

  Serge’s anger collapsed into panic as his stretched tendons creaked.

  Connor suffered the stench of Serge’s breath as he smiled into his face. “Game over, Councilor.”

  The bones in Serge’s wrist crumbled as, with a sharp twist, Connor whipped the old vampire’s arm down at a sickening angle, dislocating the joint and snapping the shoulder blade like a twig. It was a symphony of delightful sensation for Connor as he focused on the vibration of crackling bone.

  Serge’s features folded into a hideous grimace.

  “Now, you were arrogant.” Connor released his hold, letting the dead weight of the arm drop.

  It swung, bumping against Serge’s thigh, hanging on by slack skin and stretching tendons. The fabric of his coat sleeve was all that prevented it dropping to the floor as the brittle capillaries in Serge’s skin snapped like strands of uncooked spaghetti.

  Clutching the limb to his side, Serge fell back, his mouth gaping in disbelief.

  Connor switched focus as a spike in the air current whooshed in his ears. Turning, he braced for impact as Captain Laurence appeared from the darkest shadow like a bolt shot from a crossbow. He hit Connor in the center of his chest. He was too late to save Serge’s arm, and Connor grinned as he realized the delay was driven by his reluctance to help the councilor at all.

  Connor’s ribcage shuddered beneath the force of the captain’s shoulder charge and his voice whistled through grinding teeth. “You don’t want to do this.”

  His flight through the air landed Connor on his back. He plowed a path through the grass and soft mud, coming to rest like a half-buried corpse with his head resting on a dune of earth.

  As Captain Laurence bore down upon him, Connor surged to his feet and feinted left.

  Overrunning his mark, the captain pivoted on the spot and, crouching low, the two vampires circled each other.

  To flee would concede power, and neither would do that. They lunged and dived in explosions of blurred movement, looking for weakness and applying pressure which could force a mistake. Blocking and parrying, neither vampire gave an inch.

  “I was not always captain of the guard, you know.” Captain Laurence’s fierce countenance gathered shadows as he rocked in a hypnotic rhythm. “Special Air Services, ‘Operation Nimrod’. Ring any bells, Doctor?” he sneered.

  “And yet, arresting me is not as simple as it seems. It must be frustrating for you. How is life without an MP5 sub machine gun on your hip? Hmm?” Connor taunted. “1980’s London and the Iranian Embassy are a long time ago.”

  “You know what you are dealing with then.”

  “You must have hung back, or they would have known you were a vampire. Such a shame.” Connor’s sympathetic shake of the head was designed to irritate.

  The captain’s white face tightened in response. “On the contrary. I spiced things up.” Laurence grinned. “Putting my foot through that window was not an accident. It forced the commander to give us the go, and I was first one in. I enjoyed killing.” He cocked his head to one side, and the blackened coal of his eye sockets homed in on Connor’s face. “We’ve passed the point of arrest, wouldn’t you say? Attacking Councilor Serge changed that.”

  “Ah, so we are back to summary execution?” Connor laughed. “Have you got time to carry out that threat?”

  Certainty settled in Connor’s chest. Julian and the jurors are almost here. A pulse of compressed air rushed ahead of their hurtling mass and Connor picked up their approach in the way a bat collects sonar waves. The trees made it impossible to get a clear signal, so timing was not precise. But they are coming.

  A sneer drifted across the captain’s face as he, too, heard the commotion in the woods.

  Connor grinned. The clock’s ticking, he’ll make a mistake, and I’ll be ready.

  “Principal Julian won’t allow it,” said Connor. “I calculate you have thirty seconds.” He straightened to his full height and extended his arms in a deceptively casual invitation. “Do you still think you can take me?”

  “I lived by the creed ‘Who Dares Wins’.” The captain laughed. “I’ll take you, or die in the attempt.”

  Laurence disappeared suddenly, and Connor rotated fast. Predicting the move, Connor tracked the trajectory as the captain hurtled out in an arc around behind, and then closed the distance again with devastating speed.

  Connor did not quite complete the turn, and the force of the captain’s skull ramming into his side exploded a kidney. A pulse of pressure punched into his diaphragm as the captain’s iron grip closed around his middle, and the unfamiliar sensation of being winded whooshed the breath from between Connor’s teeth.

  Grabbing the back of the captain’s coat, Connor rode the wave of momentum which spun him around. The death-grip tightened around his waist and his lower ribs creaked under the vise-like pressure.

  As Laurence’s head burrowed under his arm, Connor slammed an elbow down on an exposed shoulder blade. Connor felt it crack. Twisting sharply, he punched the tensed blade of his knuckles into the base of the skull which was grinding into his hip. Connor’s feet left the ground when the captain reared, and the crushing bear hug hoisted him upward.

  Kicking out hard, Connor crunched his boots into the captain’s knees. Laurence hissed when a second blow took his feet out from under him.

  As Laurence fell, Connor’s feet hit the ground. The captain’s clawed grip dragged away and the pressure tore the intercostal-muscles between his lower ribs, and Connor felt the blades of bone crack and collapsed inward.

  The captain dropped to his knees, and his dead weight buried him thigh high in dirt. Connor planted a boot between his shoulder blades and delivered an explosive forceful kick. Laurence’s bulk shunted forward, excavating a crater when he fell face first into the soft ground. His head snapped back when his chin hit a rock, and the crack in his shoulder blade opened into a crevice.

  Regret crossed Co
nnor’s mind, and in that moment, his respect for the captain grew. I’m amazed he’s still fighting.

  The crater of earth cradling Laurence’s body abruptly spat dirt into the air as the captain flipped over onto his back.

  Too late to retreat, Connor jerked his chin down hard, protecting his throat. The captain lunged, going for a stranglehold but settling for a tight grip below Connor’s cheekbones. Forced onto his knees into the tumbled earth beside the captain’s prone body, Connor stiffened and resisted being pulled down to share his grave. He stared down into eyes, hard with steely determination. Dirt sat in clumps on the face looking back, and fell into his mouth when he grinned.

  The pressure of the Captain’s thumbs crushed Connor’s bottom lip and his teeth began to creak.

  Gripping the captain’s wrist, Connor dug his own thumb into the soft tissue of the joint until bone crumbled. He clenched his jaw tightly shut because if he relaxed, it would be torn away. The glint of ice in the captain’s eyes told Connor there would be no mercy.

  “I can take you, and a broken wrist won’t stop me,” said the Captain. His fingertips hooked into the base of Connor’s skull until the vertebrae screeched, cartilage rubbing on bone.

  Connor drew back a fist and drove a punch down into the captain’s belly. The first blow separated the muscle wall. Laurence automatically raised his knees in protection, tightening the oblique muscles and opening them up. Connor’s second blow, with fingers pointed in a blade, sliced through the transverse abdominals and entered the abdominal cavity. One shove, driven by the force of Connor’s braced shoulder, pierced a hole in the diaphragm.

  The captain’s clawed grip slackened in shock.

  Connor pulled away and, resting back on his heels, he stared into the smooth expressionless face of the defeated vampire.

  “Finish me.”

  As the moon came out from behind a cloud, Connor looked down into eyes the same steel gray as his own. He spanned his hand over the smooth forehead and applied the pressure needed to crumble his cranium and stirred his fingers through the blancmange-like texture of his brain.

  Connor rose to his feet at the same moment Julian stalked into the clearing.

  Julian registered the depleted row of stunned guardsmen before seeking out the figure of Connor standing amidst a field of fallen opponents. As he absorbed the scene, Serge hobbled over.

  “Principal Julian.” Serge’s anger tightened face unfolded to speak.

  Julian silenced him with quiet authority. “Stand down, Councilor Serge.”

  As Connor walked forward, wiping Laurence’s congealed blood from his hands on the tattered cloth of his shirt, the councilor scuttled away.

  Julian raised a brow and said, “You have been busy.”

  Connor’s fingers probed the bottom edge of his ribcage through his shirt and pulled it back into alignment. “Not entirely unscathed. It’s a shame he had to die.”

  “Laurence? Damn. I’m sorry, Connor. I hoped to get here in time.” Julian’s head jerked round at rustling in the woodlands behind him. “Fall back, Connor. It’s show-time.”

  Connor backed into the shadows, smiling at the withering glance Julian shot in Serge’s direction.

  Marius and Alexander entered the clearing in unison, the biting autumn breeze whipping their robes into frenzy. Marius’ black hair glistened like the pelt of a sea lion as he put his hands to it and scraped it back into a slick skull cap. He surveyed the scene with black eyes, his blown pupils swallowing their usual lively spark, expanding them to dead pools of censure.

  Arriving on Julian’s left shoulder, his glance sharp, he said, “A battle? The forty humans had a champion?” Disapproval compressed his lips. “Who would be foolish enough to fight the decree of the council?”

  Alexander’s stride was more deliberate. The moonlight burnished his hair to the color of wet sand, and the spark of interest in his eye was like the sun’s rays breaking through early morning mist. Everything about him spoke of rain soaked splendor. He put the puzzle pieces together as he breathed in the stench of battle, tasting fine particles of dirt emulsified in the air and smelling decaying congealed blood as spice in the cocktail.

  While Marius waited for an answer, Alexander’s brows climbed in shocked surprise as he recognized the distinctive silhouette of Doctor Connor.

  The jurors’ arrival prompted Serge to rush forward again. Spraying saliva, he stated the obvious. “Doctor Connor is alive.” Serge turned, tried to indicate with a wave, and abandoned the move when releasing the hold on his wrenched arm let it slip further from his sleeve, towards the ground.

  Marius’ gaze doused the guardsmen in disgust. “What’s going on here?”

  Julian silenced them all as he called softly, “Doctor Connor.”

  Connor stepped forward. His face wore gray smudges where the captain’s fingertips had dug into flesh and compacted the tissue fibers. A row of scythe shaped cuts ran down his nape from hairline to collar like a tattooed line of stitching, evidence of where his spine had been compressed.

  He pulled the shredded shirt from his shoulders, making a final effort to clean his hands before scrubbing the cotton fabric over his features. The movement wiped all expression from his face. This is it. Rebekah’s life hangs on the next few moments. Connor closed his eyes for a moment, and a fleeting frown tightened his muscles. She’s in pain. The pinched expression biting into her features was as clear to him as if she was standing right beside him.

  “Jurors Marius, and Alexander.” Connor inclined his head respectfully, flint-gray determination glittering in his eyes as impatience knotted his stomach. I’m not sure how much time I have left.

  The breath hissed from between Marius’ teeth as a flood of moonlight brought the carnage strewn across the field into sharp relief. “This is a surprise.” Marius’ glance bored into Julian’s profile. “What are we really here to witness? Right now, I favor arresting Doctor Connor and sweeping this nest for the forty humans.” He glanced at the guardsman to his right. “I see nothing here to change my mind.”

  Without taking his eyes from Connor, Alexander said, “I agree. We are on thin ice. I vote for Doctor Connor’s summary execution, and sweeping the nest. Anything less leaves us open to charges of perverting the course of justice for our own ends. Unless you have any objection, Principal Julian?” Stirring the currents of contention in the clearing, Alexander’s tone invited his leader’s confidence.

  Marius took in a deep breath, and with flared nostrils and slackened jaw, he washed the night air over his palette. “We are wasting time. Let’s first determine the size of the capture, because one thing is certain,” He glared at Serge as he continued, “there are far less than forty humans here.” Marius waved the nearest guardsman forward. “Sweep the tunnels for... ”

  Julian raised his hand and Marius’ order was left hanging. “Let us hear what Doctor Connor has to say first.”

  “He escaped from storage, and killed and maimed council guardsmen. We do not negotiate, Julian, you know that.” Emotion colored Marius’ voice for the first time in the hundred and twenty years since Julian had known him. Julian smiled. It seems we all crack eventually.

  “Even if he holds the key to our survival?” asked Julian.

  “What performance is this?” Marius was irritated. “What exactly have you brought us here to witness?”

  “You would not believe me if I told you,” he muttered. “Connor?”

  “I’ve been accused and convicted of ‘threatening the food supply’.” Vehemence resonated in Connor’s chest. “Councilor Serge leveled the accusation at me on many occasions without proof.”

  Connor waited for the jurors to accept this as a truth.

  Marius inclined his head. “Until, as I recall, you admitted to it.” His tone was cold and closed.

  Connor ignored him, knowing that what happened in council that day no longer mattered. “The failure of our breeding program means we are immortals faced with certain death. We need soluti
ons, not empty rivalry.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “While I can’t pretend to know how at the moment, we do have the capability to breed.”

  An exasperated breath interrupted him. “A very nice tap dance, Doctor Connor, but theories are not enough to save you now.” Marius looked at Alexander. “Surely you have heard enough?”

  Connor’s calm tone cut through the air like a knife. “And what if the theory is proven?”

  “Proven?” Marius expelled a derisive laugh.

  “You will see,” said Connor, and, in a whisking tornado which made Serge cling on tighter to his useless arm, he disappeared back into the tunnel mouth.

  The guardsmen twitched, reluctant to see their quarry disappear. They looked at Julian. “Let him go. He will be back.”

  As the seconds ticked away to minutes, the assembled vampires forming an arc of standing stones, Alexander said, “How can you be so sure?”

  Julian met the young juror’s eyes, raising a brow. “You are about to discover that Doctor Connor has more to lose than his life.”

  Chapter 24

  The lynching party waiting outside in the meadow was of no consequence. With every step Connor took along the tunnels, he felt Rebekah’s pain more acutely. Shit! Time is running out.

  Her ribcage creaked and Rebekah scrunched her eyes closed. Gripping the edge of the wooden bench, she doubled over, groaning. Without warning, cold sure hands covered hers and, when Connor’s distinctive aroma rode the cool breeze moving her hair, she opened her eyes.

  He looked up from where he knelt on the floor in front of her, and she knew she was hallucinating.

  “It’s time, honey.” His slate gray gaze was gentle. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  He scooped her up and with an easy gliding gait, he powered towards the doorway.

  “What about Oscar and Leizle?”

  Connor chuckled, and the rumble through his chest made her breath hiss when the baby kicked. “Sorry, honey. They are safe. They know what to do.”

  Holding on tightly to his shoulders, she welcomed the chilled breeze on her hot skin as Connor moved swiftly through the tunnels. He finally stopped, lowered her gently to her feet and held out his hand, smiling as he said, “It will be okay. They are not going to hurt you. I won’t allow it, and Julian is there.” Connor cocked a comedic brow. “He knows I’ll have his ‘guts for garters’ if he lets me down now.”