Legends of Astræa_Cupid's Arrow

by Sophia Alessandrini

  I hated not being able to hear what Asmodeus spoke, but at least I could see the cloak and mask in the Count’s mind, hovering in the air without the need of wings. I wondered what Asmodeus had to hide. Maybe he was so demonic and unnatural looking, but I had seen him before in all his glory. No. He had an ulterior reason, such as… avoiding to be recognized? If so, by who?

  “He also says there is one way to know if you will ever go back to hell.” Count Me-Not had been truly brainwashed. Just like the crazy primordials, he truly believed I was evil. However, we noticed his demeanor had changed from the moment Ash had questioned him about my claim of not being a virgin. He had failed his master. WOW. Good luck with that one, buddy.

  “What now? Does he get on by watching?” I asked them. Of course, those words came out wrong and angry.

  Nicholas raised his eyebrows at my inappropriate remark but was somewhat amused.

  “No, Miss Pearson. Lord Aurous wishes a duel between the prince and me. If your evil protects him, then nothing will harm him… or you by the same token.” In his mind, he blamed my “evilness” that Nicholas hadn’t turned into a horrible beast that killed everyone. Count No-Brain-Cells was really in the dark, but he wasn’t going to accept any other explanation from me. How screwed up was that?

  Crap. In other words, we were so royally screwed.

  All of this was my fault. My gaze turned to poor Francis, fortunately, queen Anne found her way to reach him from where she was, but her gaze was somber. Crap.

  Francis’s life depended on me, and time was of essence. The imprint of the golden arrow would die if Nicholas was killed. If I was to show fear for Nicholas, then Ash would somehow suspect the imprint had not been completed. I inhaled and glanced with Herculean panic at Gavril and Nicholas, who stood next to each other.

  “No. The imprint will be destroyed if one of you has innocent blood on your hands before having sex,” Gavril said, correcting my assumption and making sure Nicholas understood what was at stake. In other words, Ash had found the loop hole for the golden arrow. Ugh. If I thought that I could ever stop the love spell, this was not the way.

  “Lord Aurous will let you go free, Miss Pearson, if the prince duels with me,” the Count repeated. Right.

  Ash wanted Nicholas to undo the imprint without my intervention. He was playing sick games again. Count Something-Sycophant probably didn’t know he was sheep to the slaughter just like he didn’t know who’d killed his Draugr.

  I exchanged glances with Nicholas. He nodded back at ghostly Gavril and werewolf Raphael. He was heroically sacrificing himself for me.

  “No, I don’t care what he says. I am not leaving you or Francis or the weres behind. I will fight the Count myself if I need to,” I told Nicholas aloud, for Ash’s benefit.

  Nicholas smiled gently at me and held my cheek tenderly. “Please, allow me to save my beloved princess this time around,” he said, trying to reason gently with me.

  The ground was shaking again. Ash hated our public displays. Our legs hardly attained balance. Demyan’s words rushed into my mind. Trust no one—including him.

  “I don’t trust Nugget Face, and I certainly don’t trust Count Dracula,” I said.

  “Who?” Nicholas was confused. Unfortunately, there was so much I had to explain to him. I swore it all came out of my mouth on its… own.

  “You know, Lord Vader with the gold mask and Scarface, the Count. I call him names.” Like Mr. I-hiss-like-a-Puss and so many other Countless names.

  Count Creepy-Something unsmiling, grim face took my insults very personal. I shrugged my shoulders apologetically. Crap. Like I needed to add more into the fire.

  “Let him fight Chicken-Little in a Suit,” Raphael said to me.

  I suppressed a sad chuckle. I had started the name-calling, and apparently, now it was okay for everyone else to do it too. I was just sorry Raphael hadn’t seen his other outfits.

  “Let me help Francis. Let everyone go, and I will give you the chance to fight me,” I asked Ash.

  Scary-face got closer to Francis’s body, that barely breathed, and took Francis’s sword—the one he never let anyone touch, including me. Crap. The Count had just made my avenging anger that much more personal. I was going to take Francis’s sword out his filthy hands, and I was bringing him a day of reckoning the likes of which he had never seen. The Count examined Francis’s katana with a provoking and distasteful grin directed at me. This was irreverent toward Francis, and he knew it.

  “No. I will fight him for you,” Nicholas argued, leaving no space for argument.

  I inhaled and exhaled. I didn’t want to offend him, but this was the twenty-first century, and the ones with the XX chromosome had capacity and potential to do whatever they wanted to do, including a duel with a cruel immortal that needed to be straightened up… inside a coffin of course. This conversation was going to take long; Nicholas was very old-school.

  “Remember, you cannot have blood on either of your hands,” Gavril reminded us—me. Crap. Maybe I should let him duel with Mr. I-Hiss-like-a-puss instead. Or maybe I shouldn’t. It spelled trouble of the highest degree.

  The Count had no scruples to kill Nicholas’s father, the king, nor did he touch his heart to alter Nicholas’s blood with that dangerous poison. Yet Nicholas wanted to protect me. Nicholas, who had never trained like Francis or had been in a battle like his father or the Count had. I loved him more for his chivalry, but this was not that time. I couldn’t allow Nicholas to lose control.

  “Together, we are stronger,” I negotiated with Nicholas.

  “I will not allow you to,” Nicholas argued. Allow? Great. His Royal Highness was back again showing the signs of a controlling macho, chauvinistic, and XY chromosome Neanderthal.

  “Stop me,” I said, defying his authoritarian ways.

  He frowned, arching his eyebrow. I mimicked him. At this point, Ash was having another word with Count Useless-And-Clueless. Once more, it annoyed me profoundly the fact that everyone could see and hear Ash, except Nicholas or me.

  “Raphael, what is he saying?” I asked Raphael who was in a better position to listen.

  He is laughing. He says you aren’t too smart, but he accepts playing Russian roulette with you—Ow. Raphael dropped on his knees, holding his ribcage.

  Ash couldn’t hear Gavril, but he was able to listen to his brother, Raphael… Crap. Gavril had a soul but not Raphael.

  “Stop it right now,” I shouted at Ash.

  I am so sorry, I apologized at Raphael. I guessed Ash had figured out how I could see or hear him. My faux pas had caught up with him. Angry, Raphael rolled his eyes at me from the floor, panting and heaving in pain. I didn’t even ask him if he was okay. He wasn’t. And there was absolutely nothing I could do to help him. No one could. Crap.

  “He will allow you to stand by the prince, and if the prince wins, he will let you save Lord Tarbelli,” the Count said, repeating Asmodeus’s words.

  I pulled my katanas out and offered one to Nicholas.

  Ailie, this is a trap, Gavril warned in my head as I watched his brother folding in terrible pain. “You cannot even as much step on a spider, or the power of the imprint will be destroyed. Neither of you can kill an innocent, or it will leave you completely vulnerable to Asmodeus’s evil,” he explained to us.

  Holy crap… The thing was if Nicholas became an unpredictable creature—like someone who could lose his compunction or his morals to defend himself or his girl, then Nicholas could lose his control and kill. So Nicholas couldn’t kill or be killed, or the power of the golden arrow would be gone. What other choice was left?

  My gaze fell again on Nicholas. He nodded back at Gavril, acknowledging his words. Although he didn’t know anything about imprints or arrows, he was willing to listen to Gavril’s warning.

  Wait… Francis had said that if I died before crossing any of the seven gates, gates would never open. I had to be the one fighting… Ash would make sure I didn’t die. He had punished the Count’s
Draugr for trying. Although, there was so much to say about his crazy and fanatical monks, the primordials.

  Since Ash was still looking for the medallion, my best guess was that he was going to let Nicholas be the one killing. Nicholas was valuable because according to Ash, he was the one left with the knowledge of the medallion. Boy was he and the Count really wrong—not that I was going to correct them. Nuh.

  After that, then Ash would kill Nicholas, whether we had imprinted or not. Just because he was evil. He had planned all of this to be that way.

  I realized then I had to make a serious choice. I had to eliminate myself from the formula.

  I had to die.

  The terrible truth was too deep, too cruel, and too ugly.

  Chapter 56

  We were so-o royally screwed, particularly me.

  “If any of us wins, you will release Francis alive,” I renegotiated my terms. Gratefully, he was still alive.

  “Ailie, I will not argue with you, woman. Let the men fight,” Nicholas said emphasizing the word men. Good Lord, I wasn’t exactly a little weak girl anymore.

  Except, there wasn’t any space to spare. If it came to a fight, we were isolated on a plank of a bridge at the edge of some volcanic hell—literally. Very discretely, I moved my foot to touch the empty space. I wanted to see if it was all an illusion or we were really over the precipice to hell.

  The crumbling ground of the edge plunked into the red bubbling lava. Great. It was as real. Within the depths, I watched with horror the hundreds upon hundreds of demonic ghouls climbing out to reach the surface, like crabs in a bucket pulling each other down but advancing like an army of ants. They had the same type of childlike, red eyes and small sharp teeth that had tried to have a bite of me before.

  I gasped. Nicholas saw them too. We were surrounded by hot lava and demonic ghouls climbing out the depths of hell. Yeah, a real holiday spot.

  Although Nicholas and I were holding swords, and that gave us an advantage, it all spelled of trap for both sides. We cautiously stepped off the precarious plank and into the Count’s larger circle.

  This was the Count’s last chance. I would suggest he desist this, but somehow, I knew it was a waste of words. Idiots never listened to reason. I waited for the Count to step closer. He didn’t know he had to die to undo the imprint or die trying to kill me. Nicholas was still valuable to Ash. Without the medallion or me, no one could open hell. I stood on guard, prepared to fight him or anyone else.

  “I think it is time I show you what a real Strzyga can do to you, since the little prince here is unable to make you his wife.” His smirk grew larger and scarier, challenging Nicholas for the possession of my body. Eew.

  “Must I remind you I am already his, but you are such a brainless old fart that you already forgot. I promise I will be the one teaching you what this girl can do,” I dared him back.

  Nicholas stared at me with wide open eyes, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. I had openly said I was his and that I wanted to fight a seasoned male Strzyga. Of course, Nicholas had never seen me fight. I wasn’t that bad. Count Hiss-like-a-puss exploded with pretended laughter. Crap.

  “A dainty, silly girl protects you now?” He gave me a once-over with his despicable and cynical mug, provoking Nicholas further, which was exactly what he wanted.

  Nicholas made a guttural growl,

  “Silly, but I’ve already fixed your jaw before, and I will do it again,” I provoked him back. I had to retain the fight between the Count and me.

  “NO-O,” Nicholas, and Raphael shouted simultaneously.

  Count Chocula stepped forward, grinning shamelessly at our open disagreement.

  “Why my, my…” The Count tsk-tsked, smirking at us. “Are you telling me the prince is a coward that hides behind your courageous silly words?” he mocked both of us.

  Nicholas gave me his shut-your-mouth glare and set me behind him. He was infuriated.

  “Your father wasn’t much of a fighter either.” Count Ragabash was throwing more fuel into the fire. The irony was that he was the one responsible for killing Nicholas’s father, I was almost sure of that.

  “How did you expect the king to defend himself when you stabbed him in the back? He was unarmed at a party. You are nothing but a murderer and a traitor,” I accused him.

  Not helping, Gavril warned me.

  A tad too late, I realized I knew something no one else knew—especially Nicholas. Nicholas gasped and clenched his jaws angrily at the information. He was so furious, his fangs were showing out of his mouth, and his face was transforming into Marcum’s twin. Crap.

  “All right, fight Count Scarface, but promise me you are not killing him and that I am not leaving this fight until you and I are safe,” I whispered to Nicholas.

  He nodded, and at the same time, he was growling and swishing my katana up in the air. He didn’t like the way Something-Something was looking at me, like a piece of meat. I shook my head at his intimidating display of testosterone.

  We exchanged glances. Nicholas sighed and handed my katana back to me. I frowned apologetically at him.

  “I will settle this, like a man,” Nicholas said to me. I wanted to complain, but he was doing the right thing, even when the Strzyga in front of us had done such a low thing like murdering the king, and my hearts soared with love for him. He wasn’t going to kill the Count, just because I had asked him.

  He loved me… that much.

  Count Fancy-Armani-pants thrusted Francis’s sword on the ground, took his own raincoat and his fancy suit jacket off, folded them neatly, and left them next to the sword. Then he rolled his white sleeves that were getting soaked with rain. He was going to fist fight with Nicholas. There was some relief in that, though, we all well knew he wasn’t someone to play clean. I slid my katanas back into the holster.

  “Now I understand why you were hesitant of marrying that sweet mouth. But you will not have to worry, Your Highness. I will put that mouth to better use after I am done with you.” The Count was relentless, and he got what he was waiting for.

  Nicholas lost it and charged him.

  It wasn’t just me who had anything to prove now. It was Nicholas. He couldn’t allow the Count to destroy the kingdom that his ancestors had left for him. The Count had murdered his father, and kidnapped his mother, who at the moment, was attending poor Francis. And Nicholas wasn’t going to let that be unpunished. Hands down, I knew who the stronger fighter would be—Nicholas. Which was the core of the problem. I gasped as they collided into a mess of wrestling punches.

  Nicholas struck him with brutal force, almost knocking the Count down. However, Count Ice-Heart was a better seasoned fighter. In a one-two, he countered Nicholas’s strokes and evaded Nicholas’s fists after that.

  Nicholas stood bravely and fought, but every punch in the head was slowing his defenses. I had been lucky I had taken the Count down before. He had at least five or six centuries of bloody battles. He had survived Francis, Demyan, and possibly Torquemada during the inquisition, even when he was a clear candidate for the stake. Although, I suspected he had survived with the protection of the king.

  The Count continued to dance around, taking advantage of Nicholas’s unskilled defense like the predator he was. Everything Francis had taught me to avoid fighting, was crucial. His detestable punches pounded into Nicholas’s head like a sledge. It didn’t matter Nicholas was stronger. It all came to not being punched so many times. God, every punch in Nicholas’s body and face hurt me, but I couldn’t interfere, even when both of them were dancing like a couple of drunken sailors. I glared angrily at Ash even when I couldn’t see him. I hated him for putting on such a show for me.

  The Count punched Nicholas in the nose then in his gut, another one-two. Crap. Nicholas stepped back, oscillating before falling to the ground. At the same time, Count Hammer-Hands fell on his knees and pulled a dagger out of his boot.

  I knew that was my cue. I placed my sword on his throat. “Drop the knife, or—”
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  Unexpectedly, Count Scary-Face made short twisting move, grabbing me by my legs and slamming my body onto the floor, gratefully not into the pit of hell down there. Except, my head had missed the floor and hovered in the empty space, and I felt every groove and shape digging into my back from the leather holsters and my katana. He laughed as he posed himself over my body. Crap, he caught me not paying attention.

  “Or what, my little katyonak?” Not willing to find out the translation to the Russian endearment, I focused instead on what Francis had trained me for. This was it, my chance to prove the dastardly Count, he didn’t have me yet.

  I raised my right hand, aiming my fingers directly at his eyes, but he anticipated my move, dropping his dagger to hold both my hands. That pissed me off. I launched my forehead as hard as I could and knocked his nose, using his shock to push him off and steal his dagger.

  “Good move,” Raphael cheered me from his side.

  Count Hiss-Like-a-Puss held his nose but just for a moment. He wiped it then with his wet, muddy white sleeve. He was bleeding. His despicable and chilling face was now full of hatred for me as he took possession of the katana I dropped when he’d pushed me onto the ground. I had hurt him again, me, that silly girl. How dare I?

  I sighed, stretched my neck, and reached for my second katana still inside the leather holster on my back. Now, we had equal advantage.

  “Stop babbling and focus. Dracula with a sword. Hello-o,” Gavril said to me, plunging me back to reality.

  I nodded back, agreeing with him. I watched Raphael and his brothers watching. Poor Francis, I couldn’t imagine how bad his condition was. Judging from what I’d seen with Émil, this was far worse. I swallowed hard.

  Francis gave me his usual instructions. Don’t hesitate, Ailie.

  “Ladies first.” Count Chocula’s last words, I hoped.

  My katana made first contact, holding my ex-katana back. I was ever so grateful for Émil’s armor. I had the ample opportunity to use the small dagger, but using what I had studied with Francis, I had to aim for places where I wouldn’t kill him. It appeared it was more difficult trying not to kill someone than to kill someone when your opponent’s vital organs were moving constantly to avoid getting stabbed.