Sebastian fixed his gaze so his eyes gave an amenable answer to that question.
Codrin looked at the woman next. Her face wore a scowl.
“Unless you wish to sit here with him while he gets a few winks, we’ve wasted enough time.”
She began walking and the red cloaks shuffled with her, leaving Codrin usurped and standing with his shoulders slumped.
The forest path carried them until the day was spent. At last, they reached a clearing that stretched greenery as wide as they could see. The rain had stopped somewhere along the way, leaving the air breezy and raw as the sun pulsed from behind one last tuft of grey clouds.
The cloaks stopped at the forest’s edge. Their captives swayed in the confined space between them. A valley sat across the way, and when Sebastian squinted, he saw roofs reaching up out of it. Getting there would consume the rest of the daylight and beyond.
Their final destination.
The opportunity to rest lasted only a moment, and Sebastian’s legs wobbled. The cloaks urged them into the clearing with a few slow steps, the way a person wades carefully into cold water. The grass was slicked from the pouring, and their boots left obvious footprints in the mud puddles.
Each step made it easier for Raven to find them, provided she was alive. The sun slid out from behind the straggler clouds, drying them as they stepped.
Garrick made the move so fast that even Sebastian was startled by the hunter’s speed. He lunged for the female cloak, who had taken point on the march. He yanked the hood off her head and pulled her arm back, swiveling his body and hurling her to the ground. She snarled and tumbled into the grass, frantically reaching for her hood.
Smoke rose off her body as her skin cracked like eggs against a buttery griddle. Her grey hair wilted and her pale skin blackened.
Then she burst into flames.
“Get them,” Garrick screamed, already moving onto the next.
Timothy was faster than Sebastian was, pulling the hood off the rear guard and sending him down with a kick to the knee. The flame engulfed his cloak as if it had been doused in whale oil.
Sebastian lunged for one, but his target was faster. The cloak’s dagger ripped through his shoulder and twisted. Blood bubbled outward with force that matched his scream. His attacker’s tongue dangled; yellow eyes widened with greed.
Timothy came rushing. He tackled the blademan and yanked his hood away, rolling free as the killer ignited.
The two remaining cloaks scrambled off in the direction they had come.
There wasn’t time for Sebastian to stop and consider the blade jutting from his shoulder, or the blood sliding down his shirt. He went fumbling for the sack that housed their confiscated belongings, and tugged Garrick’s six-shooter free of the musty fabric. He sighted Codrin’s retreating cloak at the end of the gun barrel.
He squeezed off two shots, and then a third and a fourth for good measure. Each hit their targets, but the cloaks barely stumbled over the impact. They kept moving until the tree line swallowed them whole.
“Forget them,” Garrick said between huge breaths. “If we’re not somewhere else before nightfall, more will come.” He plucked the blade from Sebastian’s shoulder and tossed it aside, offering a few encouraging slaps on his cheek. “They’ll smell you faster than a thirteen-year-old girl at red tide.”
“The hell were they?” Timothy fished his blunderbuss out of the sack and looked across the way like a bloodhound.
“You know exactly what they are, pup.”
Sebastian motioned to the far off rooftops. It hurt to lift his injured shoulder and he cupped a palm down over it. “Is that where they were taking us?”
“Seems so,” Garrick said. “This land is under perpetual siege. The Ottomans from the east occupy it, but the Russian Empire swoops down from the north to try its luck for nothing beyond a desire for expansion. Villages like that suffer the most. Probably nothing left save for those bloodfeeders.”
“What then?” Timothy said. “Go back for Raven?”
“No. There’s no telling what else answered the wolf’s call,” Garrick said. “We had the element of surprise and squandered it. It’ll be years before I can get that close again.”
“We’ve left an obvious trail from the lake,” Sebastian said. “If the wolf intends to find us, she will.”
“And if those red cloaks come back with friends…”
Garrick nodded. He chewed his bottom lip. “Follow me,” he said. “We’ll need to find shelter before dark.”
Weary sighs circled them.
They fell in behind the hunter and headed east, away from the village.
***
It was almost dark before Elisabeth moved.
She’d fallen back into mud. It was cool enough to soothe her irritated flesh. Her body ached even as the scars receded.
The physical ones, at least.
Tears had sapped most of the day’s energy. Outpouring of emotion that wore a cathartic effect, even as her spirits remained stomped. Today she couldn’t feel anything but self-pity.
The sun disappeared behind the mountain, producing the beautiful foreboding of dusk.
What needed to be done could no longer be ignored. Only reticence kept her in place. Leaving here meant that Aetius was really gone, and she wasn’t ready to accept that.
Elisabeth didn’t wish to say goodbye, because like her mother before, it meant that his memory would fade over time. He’d sacrificed his life so that she could escape. The idea that she’d one day lose the details of his face, forget the muscled lines of his body, and never again taste his lips, brought crippling dejection.
She looked at the dimming sky with watery eyes and wondered, where am I supposed to go from here?
Of course, she knew. Knew that certain things were expected of a huntress—even one with a waning sense of duty.
This cloak of night brought none of the expected calm and comfort; only advantage. Unlike humans, her eyes didn’t fail in the shadows.
Elisabeth hoisted herself and shook the atrophy from her muscles. The lake was a mass of dark and shifting water. It lapped clean her blood-caked thighs and cooled her sweaty form. A dip beneath the surface jolted her mind from the shackles of self-pity, rejuvenating her with a sense of purpose.
This was Aetius’ parting gift. Life. It must not be squandered on brooding. Love and sorrow were for humans—distractions from the doldrums of their brief and pointless existence. A side of them that Elisabeth wished she could jettison. Because she was more than that.
The varcolac were so much more.
She cleansed herself in the water as best she could, wishing for a bar of soap. They’d often found them stockpiled throughout the Holy Roman Empire’s estates, most of the time while the lorded villages lived in filth and squalor. The cruelty and oppression of it was amusing, even if she couldn’t understand why so many of them allowed it.
She stepped from the lake feeling refreshed. There was temptation to return to the queen—Alina’s soft spot for the first huntress was such that she’d be welcomed with open arms and legs. However, that was far from the type of ecstasy she craved.
Elisabeth lifted her nose and searched the air for them. Every human’s scent was unique, and the familiar man’s was one she’d never forget; arrogance personified. Even now, as the smell drifted to her, her heart drubbed with rage.
They’d been here, but she knew that already. Worse, the graveyard stench was heavier now. Her nose wrinkled at it. The only way to sort through these conflicting odors was to reach higher ground. The idea of seeing that campsite once more stung worse than any of her injuries, but it was the only way.
It would mean one last chance to say goodbye.
Ascension up the narrow and winding path was slow. It afforded her prey an opportunity to distance themselves further, though that didn’t matter. The wolf would make up the distance once it came time for the chase. She imagined them enjoying a victory celebration of loose whores and dribbli
ng mead.
Let them think they won. If they didn’t see her coming, her vengeance would be sweeter still. She’d kill them and lay waste to every hospitable village along the way.
Throughout the years, Elisabeth had trained her ears to ignore the forest’s constant sounds. Most animals stepped light and the ones that didn’t, such as bears, were distinct enough to disregard. Man sounded obvious, moving with steps that were graceless. Finding them wasn’t terribly challenging.
There was nothing out of the ordinary in her ears tonight, but as she climbed the mountain, the rancid whiff of decayed flesh grew until she felt like vomiting.
Scorched animal pelts hit her nose so hard that she coughed reflexively. Her feet were callused and sore by the time she reached the former sight of Nightfall, but she ignored the pain. As soon as she allowed the wolf in, it’d be gone within minutes.
Two cloaked figures sat beside the remnants of her dream, ghostly reminders of it. Dual pairs of yellow eyes pierced the night, though faces were obscured beneath hoods.
“Forgive us,” one of them spoke. He rose and took a knee. “We did not realize what had happened until we reached this peak. You grieve. Is it for this one?”
These parasites were of no interest. Theirs was an image so far removed from the queen that they were merely demons in human form, and their rotted presence only annoyed her. She pictured them scampering up here in the hopes of finding a fresh body to suck from. Imagined them sifting through the fire-kissed remains with disappointment.
“Speak quickly, vampire.”
The brazen one got off his knee, and the other followed with hesitant steps.
“Codrin,” he said. When it was clear that Elisabeth was nonplussed by his name, his words became hurried. “We heeded the wolf’s call and found the ones who injured you.” The vampire’s yellow eyes dropped to the embers. “The ones who murdered him.”
“Where?”
Silence. Their sunken faces awash with defeat. Their lips flicked open and shut, as if the proper words couldn’t be formed. It was obvious why.
“You lost them,” she said and felt like crossing a hand over her breasts when she noticed them leering. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of shame, however.
“Our elder ordered us to return with them…”
“Them specifically? Or any scraps that you could muster? From the look of it, you two are nothing more than dried-out rinds.”
This prompted the shameless vampire to stop and re-shuffle his words. “You have to understand, we are a starved people. Many have not tasted blood in a year…maybe more.”
“Tell me where they are.” Elisabeth cared more for the prosperity of wild lynxes than she did parasite plight.
“They slaughtered four of us…we barely escaped.”
“You do not know where they have gone?”
“No, but we wish to ally with you. To find them and avenge those who were taken.”
If they’d delivered the familiar one as a gesture of goodwill, she might’ve rewarded their deed. But a malnourished elder somewhere figured he could siphon fatigued men in order to feed his followers. She knew it wasn’t their intent to interfere in this, but they had, and it was infuriating.
Elisabeth closed the distance between them. The vampires only stared at her curves as she approached. They yearned, despite being depleted. What little blood remained in their systems flowed to their loins and dictated their thoughts.
Another insult.
“I am faster on my own,” Elisabeth said. It was clear the loud one didn’t intend to leave the topic at that. He started to speak once more, and so she did what needed doing. She punched his silent partner in the chest. His rib cage exploded around her fist as she burrowed through his innards and took his heart against her palm. Her nails wrapped around the muscle, squeezing from it what few drops of life remained.
The creature dangled off her limb, impaled. When she retracted her arm, the shriveled heart looked like a prune in her hand. She pitched it straight into the air like a fox toss, as her victim watched helplessly for a moment before keeling over.
The other refused to run. He fell again to one knee, babbling about allegiances.
Too late, greedy creature.
She threw her palm down over his bald and rotted skull, raking her fingers over his head. Dead skin coiled beneath her nails like carved wood.
The vampire whelped, but fought to repress the display of weakness.
“Why did you leave me on the beach, vampire? You could’ve had me as easily as a game bird.”
“We are hungry…”
“You said that.” Her voice rose over his. “And I do not care.”
“We knew that we could never take a varcolac…not in our condition.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Yes.”
“Would you feed on me…given the opportunity?”
The vampire’s yellow eyes narrowed, leery of the question. “We would. Your blood is stronger than man’s. Strong enough to bring my people back in full.”
“You would try drinking from the huntress?” Elisabeth’s features darkened in succession with her thoughts. She released his head and the vampire grabbed her arms without a hint of strength. His hands slipped from her wrists and dropped limp when he realized that his pleas wouldn’t work.
The creature cried. An arousing display of fealty that made her feel powerful once more. Her bloodlust rekindled.
The wolf’s change started on faster than she might’ve liked; her hands swelled. They throbbed as thick claws pushed through the tips of her cracked and shedding fingernails. She didn’t want this yet. Her bubbling throat and shifting muscles ached, though the wolf came no closer to the surface.
She lashed at the vampire’s neck with frustrated confusion. The parasite’s yellow eyes bulged as his head came loose, dangling off his shoulders like a hood. A weak stream of blood sputtered and, thinking that her point was made, she left him writhing.
There was no reason to put him out of his misery. Without blood, he couldn’t regenerate with any serious pace and the sun would eventually rise to finish the job.
His body flopped around inconsequentially as Elisabeth walked to the cliff and inhaled. The familiar one’s smell hung there, the way an extinguished fire lingers above the hearth. She sensed anxiety on their bodies—a smell more prevalent than perspiration. They’d be all the more difficult to track because their defenses were high. Surely they'd be expecting her to hunt them. But they were further provoked by clumsy vampires and their desperation to feed.
They moved fast. In retreat.
“You fools,” she said with balled fists. The sight of the almost-decapitated vampire seizing in the dirt brought no gratification for what she felt. She stepped over him, in a hurry to catch her enemies. The cowards. How many more lives would they wreck along the way? How many more families would they obliterate by stealing daughters away from their ailing mothers in the name of good and God?
And yet, you did nothing to prevent their crusades when you had the power and ability to do so.
“Shut up,” Elisabeth said, hostile to the contradictory thought.
You raised an army of wolves, and for what? Rather than do battle with them, you sought to terrorize homes similar to the ones your enemy ransacked. You both destroy lives, innocent lives. You’re no better than they are.
“My army was for Alina,” she screamed. The justification was for her benefit, and not even she bought it. Elisabeth pretended her intentions were noble, insisting to herself that she’d raised that army as one final pledge of devotion to her queen. Truth was, it was all she could do to walk away from the role of huntress without enervating guilt.
And even that hadn’t worked.
Elisabeth knew her thoughts were spot on. She was evil and was never meant to be happy.
Aetius’ remains were strewn across the spent fire. His flesh was so charred that his limbs resembled scorched logs. It hadn’t been eno
ugh for the hunters to slay him. This ritualistic cleansing, mutilation before burning, had been done to ensure he never rose again. Short of covering him in salted earth, they had taken every measure.
She knelt and gasped over his blackened skull. His teeth had been bashed out, leaving jagged pieces of dentin behind. She sifted through the ashes and collected the undamaged ones in her hand, closing her fist around the longest pair of killing teeth she could find.
How many lives had ended because of these? How many times had his ravenous bite pierced her flesh in passion? That menagerie of insurmountable pleasure mixed with searing pain was as if her virginity was being taken again and again. She was never more alive than when the wolf was inside her, filling her until his girth could barely be groped.
That’s when the pleasure truly began.
She circled the mountaintop like the animal she could be, sniffing the slender air and teasing the animal to her surface.
Reaching them would be simple. Killing them, harder.
Blue eyes lifted toward the moon as the tremors took her.
“Change me,” she whispered. The pearly object up there held no genuine sway over the wolf, but the animal was often encouraged and enticed by the darkness it promised. Her arms stretched and reached for it. Dark hair lifted off her slender appendages and her hands became pointed once more. She dropped and landed on her knees. The pain surged, but that one final push never came. Then she was left watching her mane recede back into her skin. Her human lungs sucked desperately for air that was hard to get.
Becoming wolf had never been more painful, the turning and regression falling on her in rapid succession. None of the benefits, but all of the bodily pain. Even her very first transformation had been easier.
Aetius’ fangs were clamped in her hand, but she left them in the dirt. Despite her discomfort, she took the time to push them down into the soil and place a noticeable stone over it.
The wolf would come no further than this, it seemed. Elisabeth crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders. Squinting into the forest below, she thought she saw the flicker of torchlight well in the distance. It forced her thick lips into a perverted smile.
DEVIL’S ROW Page 6
