The Prince of Cups (Villainess Book 2)

by Melos,Alana

  “Of course,” I said, impatiently. “How do you want to do this?”

  “You can’t use your powers,” he responded.

  “Then you can’t use yours,” I replied, making a hurry up gesture with my hand.

  “Since I’m the one challenged, I choose the weapon,” Nazferatu said, tasting victory. He eyed me for a moment, seeing the knife on my hip under the jacket, and figuring I was probably wearing a gun, which I was. “Swords.”

  It was a struggle to keep my face completely impassive. Regulus kept shaking his head, muttering to himself, “Doomed, we’re doomed. I knew this was a bad idea.” Yet he’d changed his mind with the choice of weapon and played up the annoyance he’d displayed before to undermine them, make them overconfident. How good are you with a blade?

  Pretty good, I sent. If you could rank me in kendo, I’d be the equivalent of a nanadan… maybe a hachi-dan. Of course, it takes time between each rank, and a lot of my knowledge came from… well, you know.

  I didn’t know her when she used a blade, he replied, and I have no idea what those words mean.

  It means I’m good, I replied. I nodded to Nazferatu, “I’ll have to borrow someone’s sword, I guess. I don’t have one.” Adira smirked, an air of smug superiority about her. I cut a glance to her, then back to Nazferatu, “And if I win, you help stop the invasion, and the Siren’s safe. From all retribution. Regulus and myself as well, of course.”

  “It is agreed,” he said. He snapped his fingers Adira’s direction, “Fetch my weapons. I will allow her to choose which she wishes to use.”

  “Your own sword? I’m honored,” I said, and meant it. That was a big deal to any weapon wielding person. Allowing someone else to use their baby? Unthinkable. Those were probably the only swords nearby though, and he felt confident in his victory.

  He inclined his head to me,and retreated, moving back to where his regiment sat and talked quietly with them. Some of them peeled off of the main group and took up places by the passages, ensuring no one would escape.

  “What are you doing?” Rebekah hissed, grabbing my arm and turning me to look at her. “They’ll kill you!”

  “No, he won’t,” I said. “More than likely, he’ll want to keep me as his pet for a while and then maybe turn me.” I spat the words out and huffed, trying to look upset, even though I was gloating inside. I knew they could hear us with their greater than human hearing range, so even if I wanted to set her at ease, I couldn’t. Plus, this way, she’d owe me.

  “Just let them do...well, whatever to me!” she said. “I knew I couldn’t outrun it… I just didn’t think I’d march right into the vampire’s den and….”

  I put a hand on her shoulder, noting we were about the same height. “Don’t ever give up,” I said. “You have to fight for everything. You’ve come this far, so why are you wussing out now?”

  “When you said you wanted to talk to the vamps, I knew it would come to this,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s… either way it goes, I’m screwed. Either I get killed here, or I go through to Prime and get labeled a traitor by the Reich when they invade. It doesn’t matter.”

  “There’s always a way out,” I said. “You can’t give up and you can’t run away from everything. You should pick your battles, that’s only smart, but you can’t run away forever. It’ll catch up to you.” I paused for a second, “Besides, that’s what men expect. They don’t expect us girls to fight. And fight better than them.”

  “You’re crazy!” Rebeka exploded. “He’s been alive for forever! He’ll tear you apart!”

  I huffed. “No, he won’t.” I was about to say more, when Regulus cleared his throat and nodded towards the passage Adira had disappeared down. She carried a couple of different cases. I went to intercept her, and Nazferatu, seeing the motion from the corner of his eye, moved as well. When we had joined her in the middle of this impromptu arena, she set the long cases down.

  “Choose,” she said.

  I knelt and opened the cases. Inside each were two swords, matched sets. One pair was sleek and modern with silver blades and black leather grips, but longer than I was used to. The other pair looked ancient, with faded golden scrollwork along the middle of the blade, and along the hilt. The handles were wrapped in old, cracking leather, but they were shorter… more longsword length than katana length, which was more in my comfortable range. I’d bragged to Gerard that could my skill be measured, I’d be above the top one percent in the world, but that wasn’t exactly true. Some of my sword skills came from kendo, true, same as my martial arts came from jeet kune do and aikido, but much of what I had learned was plain old dirty street fighting, struggling to survive. I’d also mixed my wetwork with my telepathy and telekinesis so long that I didn’t know if I could fight effectively without them. Thinking back to that cop in the alley, my confidence wavered.

  Picking up the smaller blade, I weighed it in my hand without trying to look like I knew what I was doing. “I guess this,” I said, surrendering my knife and gun to Adira. “It feels OK.”

  Nazferatu swooped in and picked up the other one, holding it with ease. Although it looked small for him, Erick’s wasn’t his original body. Looking at his thoughts, he saw I was pleased I picked his ancestral blade, and I looked at it again with new interest. The decorations meant nothing to me, but on the crosspiece of the hilt, there was a crest which I couldn’t make out. It had been ground down by use over time, rubbed away until it was all but indistinguishable in the dim light. I’d check it out more thoroughly later.

  “Ready when you are,” I said, taking a couple clumsy “experimental” swipes with the blade.

  “And now… to ensure you do not cheat,” Adira said. She stepped towards me, a black thick wristband in hand.

  “What’s that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously.

  “A power dampener,” she said, Gerard echoing her words in my head. It’s safe enough, go ahead, he said.

  “I’ll hold the key for it,” Regulus said as he stepped up, his hand outstretched. “To make sure it comes off later.”

  Adira flicked a glance to Nazferatu, who nodded. She shrugged and handed a small silver key to him, then turned back to me. “Give me your hand.”

  I offered my empty left, and she snapped the band over my wrist. Instantly, the connection I had to Nazferatu snapped, and I staggered at the suddenness of it. Regulus was still with me, steadying me and intercepting the effect of the bite from Nazferatu… but it was one sided. I was mindblind. Biting my lip, I tried to flick Gerard’s ear, and got nothing.

  Don’t worry, he sent to me. Just concentrate on the fight. I’ll spy on him and link you up, for early warnings.

  “This is weird,” I said, looking around at the gathering. Other of his crew had taken seats and were waiting for the blood to spill, looking and feeling--thanks to Gerard’s input--anticipatory, eager. I backed up a few steps and limbered up, testing the sword a little bit more as Gerard adjusted the level of information in my head to what I was used to, and let the sensations flow. Nazferatu didn’t acknowledge it at all, and I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. This was useful information to bring back with me. I had thought my Nosferatu sensed when I was mucking about in his mind, but if my experiences here held true… I could dig freely without fear of discovery.

  “Wait a minute,” Rebekah interjected. “What about him? He’s still got his vamp speed and strength.”

  With those words, color began to run back into Nazferatu’s face, filling him in and making him alive once more. The grin on his face wasn’t him… it was his alter ego, Erick. “Is this going to be fair?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not really Nosferatu… is it?”

  “Oh, but it is,” he said, and even his voice sounded alive compared to Nazferatu’s before. “I can draw on his knowledge, so, you fucking cunt, I will make sure to cut you down.” He pointed with the sword at Rebekah, then to Gerard, “And your friends next.”

  I arched a brow at the insult. Did people rea
lly always think that was the worst insult ever? “Wow,” I said, my voice deadpan. “All the words in the En… German language and that’s what you choose to insult me with? You’re lucky Nos is in there. I actually like him, so maybe I won’t hurt you too bad.”

  Erick raised his lip in a half-snarl, and began to circle around me. I had expected him to rush into an attack, but like Nazferatu he was cool about it, looking to test me first. I didn’t move except to turn as he did, keeping him in the front of my vision. I raised my sword, using both hands like some rookie might do, keeping my grip light as I waited for him to strike.

  He’s testing you, Gerard sent, watching the circling intently as he and Rebekah stepped back and took a seat on one of the front most carved benches.

  I know, I thought back to him. Just give me what information there is, and don’t think at me too much. I can’t partition my mind like this, and you can’t do it for me. I need to concentrate.

  Regulus sent an acknowledgment to me as Erick stopped his circling, using the blade one handed, though it really gave him no advantage other than reach. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to do something or are you too weak?”

  “At least you didn’t say ‘like all women’,” I said, glancing to Adira for a moment, then back to Erick. “I’ve a feeling you know better.”

  My opponent took a step towards me, and I took a step back, maintaining the distance between us for the moment. “Ha!” he laughed. “You’re afraid of me.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” I said, simply stating the fact. “And I’m going to win anyway.”

  “Maybe when I’m done I’ll take you over my knee like a little girl,” he taunted, trying to get under my skin. I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not, but I thought he did... at least a little bit. Someone that fit and strong usually had some issues to make up for, maybe some secret hate which led him to work out so much. That or he was a convict and had too much time on his hands, but I didn’t think the Reich would recruit from their prison population. He was probably used to using his height and bulk to intimidate people. It didn’t do anything to me. I’d cut down bigger foes than this, and smaller guys had been more dangerous. It didn’t matter what the package looked like, only what was in it.

  “I’d like to see you try it,” I said. “Bigger men than you have licked my boots.”

  He sent a half-hearted swing my way, and I simply stepped back, not parrying. “Mongrel dog,” he said. “Coward! Attack me!”

  This is getting tiresome, I complained to Gerard.

  So goad him to attack, he replied, exasperated at my complaining.

  No, I’m just going to get this over with, I sent, and lunged suddenly. Erick had been waiting for it, but even so a faint bit of surprise had crossed his face as he narrowly parried my blade. “What?” I asked. “I was just waiting for an invitation to dance.”

  Erick sent another swing my way, not with a lot of force behind it, but fast. I brought my blade up easily, matching his speed. Regulus settled in the back of my head, helping me cheat my way through this. Never play fair, my dad had told me. But don’t get caught either. It was good advice. As our blades clashed together, I stepped in, close enough to kiss him, and slammed my foot down on the inside of his. He pushed back, being far stronger than I was, and I stumbled. Then, he lunged, but due to the pain in the inside of his foot, he limped as he did and I was able to duck out of the way.

  For those who haven’t fought before, there’s two types of fighting, really. There’s the fighting you see in the movies where everything looks slick and choreographed, because it is. When two masters in the same discipline fight, it looks like that… smooth like silk. It’s almost a dance. Then, there’s the other kind of fight everyone’s familiar with: the brutal fight. While there might be skill, it’s not a dance: it’s a war. It’s tugging back and forth, looking for dominance, for superiority. There are low blows and dirty punches. We were both skilled, but our disciplines were vastly different. I moved around a lot more, looking for opportunities to turn his energy against him. He stood bigger and was definitely stronger, so if I got hit, it would really fucking hurt. I had to go for precision strikes to vulnerable areas instead of power hits. His sword style consisted mostly of hard, but fast strikes, which only gave me a slight opportunity to wound him.

  I had watched Nosferatu fight before, many times, though I’d never been on the receiving end of it. Watching Erick work the blade was different though, more refined, less brutal. I didn’t know if it was because of the different experiences which had shaped this dimension’s Nosferatu, or if it was because of Erick’s input, but since he was driving the car, I had to get him to slip up if I could. If it was Nazferatu, I’d flash him or something. Other than using a racial slur or insulting his manhood, both of which I found distasteful, I couldn’t think of anything to accomplish my goal. So, I set about to wearing him down and frustrating him, hoping the longer the fight went on, the more rash he would get.

  To that end, I sent a couple of strikes his way, but played defense more than offense. Kendo was all about the single strike to end it. A good samurai would kill his opponent in a single blow, if possible. Many of the strikes in kendo, and its forefather kenjutsu, were designed to aim for specific parts of the body, and I kept my thrusts towards his throat and heart. He parried every one as we circled each other. I kept backing up slightly as we circled, aiming to get my back to the rough hewn stone benches and intent on climbing them. I had to counter his reach and height advantage.

  When he attacked, he swiped towards my head in a massive blow designed to decapitate me. I ducked it, but he reversed the cut, slashing down. I wasn’t able to get my sword up in time to block it, so I rolled instead, ungainly, and he stepped quickly in between me and the benches. So much for that idea. There was no sand on this floor to grab, and I couldn’t chance using Gerard to trip him up. His control over his telekinesis was terrible, no subtlety at all, and we’d be caught.

  Erick pressed on, slashing down. I was forced to scoot back as I tried to regain my feet. Laughter rose up in the arena, and my face burned. I’m sure it looked funny as hell, but I wasn’t laughing. Pride had nothing to do with it; I knew if Erick got the drop on me, he’d kill me, and I wasn’t sure Nazferatu would be able to stop it. I wasn’t sure how much control he had over the Nazi, and I didn’t want to find out.

  Gerard, I thought at him. Do you think it’s possible for you to turn control of your powers over to me while we’re linked like this?

  Should be, he sent, suspiciously. When he saw the idea in my head, he considered it while Erick batted my blade aside, thrusting immediately afterwards, and slicing my jacket as I moved out of the way. But I’m not doing it.

  Why not? I thought, jogging backwards to put some distance between Erick and I. He moved swiftly after me, a grin upon his handsome face. He thought I was tiring. I tossed my hair back, and lunged at him while he was moving fast. I sliced along his side as he put blade in the way, deflecting some of the blow. Out of practiced instinct, he backhanded me as we moved. I didn’t see it coming, but the connection with Regulus let me sense the intent and I turned my head.

  The wrong way.

  The blow landed solidly on the side of my nose and I heard a loud crack. Pain blinded me, and I pushed forward a series of fast strikes, trying to drive him back while I oriented myself. They were sloppy, but they got the job done. He stepped back. When he did, so did I, my hand flying to my nose. When I touched it, pain flared. Blood pooled above my lip, then dripped off. I licked my lips tasting my own blood as he smirked, letting me inspect the damage, but I noted his hand went to his side absently.

  Oops, Regulus sent, the thought faintly tinged with amusement. I wasn’t able to tell for certain, but I had the feeling that ‘accidental’ misinformation was punishment for even entertaining the thought of taking control of any part of him.

  “Ready to surrender?” Erick asked, the smugness rolling off of him.

  “I d
on’t submit to a lesser,” I snarled. Anger boiled in me, hot and thick. I was going to kill him.

  He laughed, and when he did, all of the crowd laughed with him except for Regulus and Siren. I cut a glance to them. Rebekah bit her lip as she frowned, having eyes only for the fight. Regulus looked anxious, but I knew he was calm underneath. He’d either decided how to flee or that I was going to win. I chose to think the latter.

  I straightened my back so that I stood tall, and made the famous Bruce Lee “come on” gesture. He didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t, but he understood the gesture well enough for him to advance at a leisurely pace, taking his time with it. He wanted to draw it out. I didn’t need to be telepathic to understand that. It was in his body language, how he let his guard slip, the sword dipping down a little. Erick felt he didn’t need to have it raised, that I was no real threat to him. I wiped the blood off my upper lip and attacked.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have given into my anger. I launched a flurry of blows at him. My careful ruse of being somewhat inept with the blade had fallen completely in my anger. I acted out of instinct tempered with technique, lashing out in a controlled way. He sloppily blocked the first, but didn’t expect the riposte. I tagged his wrist, slicing into his skin as I attempted to disarm him. He moved in surprise at first, then with angry realization I had been playing him.

  I kept sending blow after blow at him, mostly at his big chest, which made a lovely target since there was so much of it. His returns were rushed, a little sloppy now that he had been put on the defensive. He moved forward, forcing me to step back. I thrust at his head, and he sidestepped it. As I withdrew to strike again, he punched me. My already broken nose flared into pain again, and stars erupted in my sight. My anger welled up… and drained as Regulus filtered some of it away, clearing my sight.

  Don’t, Reece, he cautioned. You lose it, and you’re done.

  I feinted. He moved, falling for it. Instead of attacking with my blade, I kicked him in the knee, a sideways blow. There was a satisfying crack and pop, and the big man went down to his knees, grunting in pain. I circled around him now that he couldn’t move as fast. My breath came hot and heavy. I launched another strike at him, which he blocked as he struggled to rise to his feet.