Reckoning (The Arotas Trilogy #2)

by Amy Miles

  “Grudges do seem to be his thing.” Gabriel coughs, batting away the dust. “Can we go now? It feels wrong to be here.”

  “Agreed.” Elias kneels, facing the altar as he whispers one last apology for desecrating the church. He leads Gabriel back up through the bell tower and out onto the roof. Seneh waits silently, always watchful.

  Although Gabriel has not been around Elias or Seneh very long, he has no problem recognizing his guardian’s agitation. Elias is instantly at his side. The scroll disappears into a brown leather satchel draped over his shoulder. “What is it?”

  Seneh points to the forest where a great noise rises into the night. Elias grimaces as he looks back at Gabriel.

  “Something isn’t right,” Gabriel whispers, staring hard at the castle turret. He strains to hear. Screams rise then fade away. Glass shatters. Wood splinters. His hears the distant clanging of swords. “The castle is under attack.”

  Gabriel moves to the end of the building, perched nearly over the edge. He turns his head and closes his eyes to focus on individual sounds. Male grunts meld with female shrieks. Gabriel picks out one sentence that makes his heart stutter to a halt.

  “He’s going after Sadie!”

  Gabriel’s breath hisses as he whirls around. “That’s Nicolae. Sadie must be in trouble.”

  Elias hangs his head. “Yes,” he whispers.

  Gabriel rushes to his mentor’s side. He grasps Elias’ arm, shaking him. “We have to go to him. Nicolae needs our help.”

  Sorrow filled eyes raise to meet his. “This is not your path, Gabriel. There is too much at stake right now. You must not intervene.”

  “Watch me.” Gabriel turns and leaps from the building. Wind whips at his hair, flapping at his clothes. He lands gracefully in a crouch, palms pressed against the street. He turns and stares back up at the angels perched atop the cathedral roof. Some part of him knows that leaving Elias and his training will put more lives in danger, but he can’t think beyond right now. His friends need him.

  Gabriel sprints ahead, winding out of sight, heading straight for Bran Castle.

  Chapter 37

  An explosion knocks Roseline off her feet. Rubble and splinters of wood rain from the sky. She curls into a ball to deflect the debris from her face. Muffled screams rise all around.

  As the sound of pattering stones begins to trail off, Roseline peers through a crack between her arms. Brick dust hangs in a thick cloud before her eyes. She coughs, inhaling the chalky residue.

  Tiny splinters have embedded themselves in the tender flesh of her arms. She wipes them away, ignoring the ones that stay behind. She rises to her knees, searching for her friends. Across the other end of the courtyard, black clad hunters pour in through the gate.

  Ropes are hurled over the top of the walls as men begin to scale the sheer castle walls. Gunfire pierces the air. Immortals flail to keep their footing, some turn to flee while others leap onto the hunters, tearing into their flesh.

  Fane rises from the cloud, stumbling back against the wall. Blood trails down his neck. He shakes his head, slapping his deafened ear. He was less than twenty feet from the blast.

  Slightly glazed eyes raise to meet Roseline’s. He smiles, raising a thumbs up sign. He pushes off the wall and begins shifting rubble in search of Malachi.

  Roseline finds him first. The serpent ring glints in the overhead lights as Malachi’s hand fumbles over the top of a large chunk of the wall. Judging by the angle of his hands, the majority of his body is trapped underneath.

  Her head droops with sorrow. There is no way he can survive such an injury. Even if they could move the stone away, the chance of blood being able to restore his extensive damage is slim. Roseline winces. She might not have trusted him completely, but he certainly did not deserve this death.

  Roseline hisses as her cheek is struck, peeling open. Heat and blood pour from the wound, dripping from her chin onto her blood stained neck. She whips around, glaring up at a girl whose sword bounces wildly in her trembling hands.

  Her rust colored hair is clumped with blood and crushed stone. Her ruby lips are painted with mortar dust. She could not have been much more than fifteen when she was turned. Hazel eyes widen with terror as Roseline rises with her swords in hand.

  The girl’s arm bears Vladimir’s mark - a small blackened cross, seared into her flesh, a symbol used to set apart girls he has personally selected for his entertainment. No doubt Vladimir’s mistress, Lavinia, was furious over this newest addition to his personal harem.

  Roseline’s fingers flex around the sword hilts as she rises to her full height.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  The girl shakes her head, her lower lip trembling as she glances about her. She looks frightened and completely out of her depth. “Can you understand me?”

  The girl darts another glance her way, eyes wide with confusion. Roseline slips easily into an English accent. “Can you understand me?”

  The girl nods. “I’m American.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Color seeps from the girl’s face as a mewling sound escapes her throat. “I’ve heard rumors. They say you’re a traitor, an immortal killer.”

  The girl’s body quakes as she pinches her knees together, most likely to control her bladder. Roseline inhales heavily, reigning in her anger. This is no warrior. She is a newborn. Roseline lowers her swords. “What is your name?”

  “Brooke,” she whispers. Her wide eyes dart around at the figures slowly emerging from the ruins.

  “How old are you?”

  The girl’s brow furrows. “I just turned sixteen a few weeks ago.”

  Roseline stifles a groan of impatience. “How long has it been since you were turned?”

  “Oh,” she whispers, “about a month. I got separated from my parent’s tour group. Vladimir found me on the street and said he could show me the way back to the hotel, but then he led me here-” she trails off. Her story tugs at Roseline’s heart. Another innocent girl destroyed by Vladimir’s greed.

  “Listen to me very closely, Brooke,” Roseline says, inching closer to the girl. “I want you to leave, now. Go out through the back door and run. If you do that, I will spare your life. Do you understand?”

  The girl’s head bobs rapidly and her sword falls to the ground. The thick layer of dust coating the castle grounds muffles the metallic clang. “Thank you-”

  Brooke’s eyes bulge and her mouth gapes open as the tip of a sword protrudes through her chest. Blood pools around the wound as the blade severs the arteries that hold her heart in place. Crimson bubbles burst from her lips.

  Roseline’s raises her swords as Vladimir appears over Brooke’s shoulder. He yanks his sword from the dying girl and chucks her to the side. Her head smashes against the well. “Traitorous wench,” he growls, wiping her blood onto his pants.

  “You didn’t have to kill her,” Roseline snarls, bracing to fight.

  “You’re right,” Vladimir nods, twirling his sword before him, “but it was fun.”

  As soon as he steps back, Roseline attacks. Her swords flash before her face, slicing through the air as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Vladimir grunts as he turns and spirals through the arched, wrought iron dome that adorns the well.

  Roseline leaps over the top, slashing at him the instant her feet touch the ground. She sweeps low, kicking out his legs. Vladimir drops, rolling to the side as he holds up his sword to defend himself. Roseline’s blades score the stone as she attacks, slicing a large chunk of hair from his ponytail, barely missing his scalp.

  He parries Roseline’s attack and springs to his feet. He drives his shoulder into her waist, slamming her back into the wall. The stair railing overhead jostles in its foundation as parts of the wall crumble down on top of them.

  Roseline groans, clutching her stomach as she crumples to the ground, her cheek pressed against the cold flagstone. Vladimir shoves his sword into the sheath at his hip as he leers over her. Clasping his fin
gers together, his fists slam down onto Roseline’s spinal cord.

  A wet gurgle rises from her throat as she spits out a wad of blood. She rolls onto her back, crying out in frustration as he kicks her swords out of reach.

  Vladimir turns and leaps to her side. She tries to roll away but she slams into the wall. He crows in triumph, slashing at her lower back with a concealed dagger. The lace, trimming the bottom of her corset, flutters to the ground as a shallow line cuts across her spine. Blood seeps from the wound, pooling into the waistline of her pants.

  Using both hands, Roseline thrusts off the wall, knocking Vladimir’s feet out from under him as she slides back several feet. She rises to one knee and slams her elbow into his side. The sound of his ribs cracking rebounds off this more secluded section of the courtyard.

  Vladimir howls, rolling on top of her. He twines his hands through her hair and bashes her skull into the ground. Darkness shrouds the edge of her vision. Time seems to slow down. She frowns, staring up into the night sky. A dark shadow appears to pass across the stars.

  Intelligible words gurgle from her throat as pain flares in her abdomen. Vladimir’s dagger sinks deep into her flesh, shredding her intestines. Roseline gasps, sucking in air as she fights against the pain. Her husband leans over her, grinning manically. “I guess this means you lose.”

  “Roseline!” Nicolae screams, racing toward her.

  Vladimir’s head snaps up and the corner of his upper lip peels back into a menacing sneer. “You,” he growls.

  He pulls his sword from his sheath and pounces on his new victim. Roseline rolls her head to the side, blinking away the shadows that are closing in. Vladimir writhes on top of Nicolae, snarling as he fights to claw Nicolae’s eyes out.

  Roseline’s head falls to the other side. It is hard to breathe let alone move. Agony swells as her pierced skin stretches taut around the dagger. Blood bubbles from her wound, staining her pale skin as she extracts the knife from her stomach.

  She heaves to the side, grimacing as she flops onto her chest. Bloodied nails claw into the stone as she pulls herself across the path. The vacant eyes of a hunter meet her stare. Roseline clambers forward, screaming out as dust and stone bury into her wound.

  The sloshing feeling in her stomach worries her, as well as the cold numbness that has begun to nibble at her fingers and toes. Vladimir has punctured something vital.

  Her arms give out on her and her cheekbone crunches as she slams to the ground. Her vision blanks out for a second.

  The sound of Nicolae’s pained cry spurs her on. She reaches out a trembling hand and grasps the newly deceased hunter’s hair. Tugging with all her might, she inches his body toward her. Roseline places a finger against the hunter’s neck. No pulse, but the blood is still warm.

  “I’m so sorry.” She sinks her teeth into his neck and drinks deep.

  Like a shot of adrenaline, the healing blood bursts through her veins. Cells begin a rapid rejuvenation and blood vessels knit back together. Flesh and sinew seal over while strength begins to return. Still, she drinks, not out of thirst, but out of self-preservation.

  Roseline pushes aside the hunter, silently thanking him for saving her life. His veins can no longer be seen just under his skin. She has drained him dry.

  Rising to her feet, Roseline sways unsteadily. Healing warmth gushes down to her toes, reviving her. Never before has she drunk so much. Her skin feels alive, like water dancing on a hot skillet. The veil over her eyes dissipates, revealing a crystal clarity she has never experienced before.

  No wonder it is so easy to become addicted to human blood.

  Nicolae’s grunt tugs Roseline forward. She leaps for her swords, tucking them into her back harness before sprinting toward Vladimir. Ducking low, she hits him with the full force of a semi-truck. He tumbles end over end, slamming into the far wall. His eyes roll back in his head. His sword falls free from his hand.

  Roseline drops to Nicolae’s side. His face is ashen but intact, apart from a few nail tracks along his cheek. Blood streams from a gash along his waist. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” he grunts, accepting her hand up. “I think I’ll live.”

  He slumps against the wall, gazing at the war-strewn courtyard. Bodies lie everywhere. Black clad hunters continue to spill in through the doors while others rappel down from the tower.

  “What is Fane doing?” Nicolae grunts, his hand clutching his side.

  Roseline spins around, searching for her friend. She finds him, locked in hand-to-hand combat near the front gate. The arched wooden doors they entered through less than half an hour before no longer exist. Its remnant splinters stick out of the bodies that scatter the courtyard grounds.

  At Fane’s back, a group of hunters fight to contain the flow of immortals desperately attempting to flee the castle. One glance reveals the reason for Fane’s wild fight - many of the immortals are wounded, some possibly in the process of dying. There is only one place they will head now - Brasov.

  “He’s trying to protect the humans,” she says.

  She swivels her head back toward Nicolae and freezes. Vladimir has vanished. Nicolae turns to follow her gaze and color drains from his face.

  “Oh god!” he cries, rushing forward. “He’s gone.”

  Roseline sprints around Nicolae, reaching the spot where Vladimir fell. A splatter of blood remains on the white wall.

  A narrow hallway veers off just a couple feet away. Roseline dives for the opening, arriving just in time to see Vladimir’s coat flapping behind him as he rounds the corner.

  “Vladimir is heading for an upper level,” Roseline relays.

  “He’s going after Sadie!” Nicolae roars.

  Chapter 38

  Nicolae races for the hallway. Roseline leaps in front of him, pressing him back from the doorway.

  “Think, Nicolae. If you run in there, terrified that something terrible will happen to Sadie, Vladimir will use that against you. You are not strong enough to beat him right now. He is high on human blood. Trust me, I know.”

  “What do you expect me to do,” he shouts, struggling against her grasp. “I can’t just wait around here and hope she’s ok.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Nicolae’s lips purse together. “Yes.”

  “Then let me go after Sadie. Fane needs your help. If those immortals get past him, there will be a lot of deaths in Brasov tonight.”

  She can tell he wants to push the issue, to find a way past her and rush to Sadie’s side, but he deflates. “You’re right. Just promise me you’ll stake Vladimir to the ground.”

  Roseline grins. “Count on it. Now go!”

  Her boots slap against the floor as she rushes through the house, searching room by room. It is only when she reaches the main part of the castle that she realizes Nicolae never told her where he hid Sadie.

  “Roseline!”

  She whirls around, weaving through the hallways, following William’s call. A grunt of pain steers her into a back sitting room just off the formal dining room. Vladimir’s black eyes flare at her over William’s shoulder, using his body as a shield.

  “Let him go, Vladimir.” Roseline steps cautiously into the room.

  Her husband inches to the right. His back slides along the wall until he reaches the doorway into another room. A small golden dagger adorned with rubies and diamonds presses against her friend’s neck. William stumbles backward and blood beads under the tip of the blade as it nicks his flesh.

  William rises onto his toes in an effort to ease the pressure of the knife. His eyes are wide with terror.

  “I told you to hide,” Roseline says.

  “I did,” he grunts as Vladimir jabs his neck again. “He found me.”

  “You should have taught him how to hold his breath,” Vladimir snickers. “Even a newborn could have spotted him in that broom cupboard.”

  Roseline grinds her teeth. Hasn’t William learned anything about immortal’s freakishly good hearing? She
stuffs away her annoyance. William needs her. “So what now? You’re just going to run him through and then take me out?”

  Vladimir eyes her closely. She knows the flush in her cheeks betrays her recent healing. Energy and strength course through her veins. She is stronger, faster, and more agile than he now is.

  “No. I suggest a trade.” He backs to the far wall and finds his elbow touching a wide pane of glass covering a tall window. “I make my escape and your little human learns how to fly.”