Beautiful Death

by Christina Moore

  Tristan gave her a small nod and pulled his gun, removing the safety.

  “Do you think you can handle the single vampire in the kitchen alone? Are you ready to kill?”

  Ready to kill?

  He swallowed hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Uh, yeah I should be okay,” he said, a little nervously. “Just don’t get bitten, right?” Or kissed, for that matter.

  Ash’s expression fell into a deep frown as if she had forgotten that important detail.

  Tristan gave a forced smile and cupped her chin in his hand. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Okay?” When she didn’t pull away, he chanced a quick chaste kiss that left him wanting. And he realized then, that if he just acted on impulse, she couldn’t predict his movements, have time to read is mind and stop the kiss. That little bit of information might help with his next task of defeating a vampire alone. “Now, let’s go kick some undead ass.” He grinned big, trying to pretend like he wasn’t worried about what he was about to do.

  Ash presented him with a huge, fangy grin. “Scream if you need me.”

  Tristan opened his mouth to give his own snarky response but then, she was already gone, never there.

  “Damn vampire,” he whispered breathlessly, alone in the hallway.

  He crept past the Great Room and towards the noise from the kitchen. His pulse started to beat hard making his head pound, his breathing coming in and out too fast making his throat burn. The vampire’s hearing was infinitely better than human, but with all the noise this one was making there was no way he was going to notice Tristan coming. Or so he hoped. When he reached the kitchen, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, slow his pulse. He knew he’d be nervous when he finally got down to it, but not to the point of near panic. He put his back to the wall, feeling the coolness of the plaster under his bare skin. His pulse was up in his throat, nearly choking him.

  He swiped an arm across his forehead, pushing the sweat and bed hair aside. “Get it together... Fuck.”

  Feeling as ready as he’d ever be, he glanced around the corner, searching the kitchen for what he was up against. The place was a disaster. All of the small tabletop appliances were knocked to the floor, broken and forgotten. The rack above the center island had been pulled down, scattering dried leaves all over. A bag of flour had been involved in the fray, leaving white powder dusted across the tile like a thin layer of snow. There were footprints, a few bloody, embedded in the powder that didn’t lead anywhere.

  There must have been something terribly fascinating about Ash’s refrigerator, because the only person in sight had crawled as deep into the box as it would accommodate him. All Tristan could see were two hairy legs sticking out of frayed knee-length linen shorts. Bare feet were covered in powder from the floor, but not a spot of blood. The one in the fridge, a man, grunted and growled as he went about dumping bottles and plates to the floor behind him haphazardly. Plates of food Tristan was sure the guy couldn’t eat. Heh, maybe he got lucky and this guy was only human.

  Suddenly, from the direction of the Great Room, Ash’s angry voice carried across the house. Tristan tensed as the guy in the refrigerator backed out and turned. Dark hair, dark skin. Fangs. Damn. At least he wasn’t a heavy power user. That was something, right? Red drool foamed and dribbled from his mouth like a rabid animal. A cold chill ran down Tristan’s spine as he met the monster’s gaze. From the dark look in the vampire’s eyes, he was wondering what Tristan tasted like.

  Chicken.

  No. Pull it together, man.

  Shots went off in the other room and Tristan flinched. “Fuck,” he scoffed and jumped to his feet. He faced the vampire feeling naked with only his gun to protect him. The vampire let out a low ominous growl, back arching, body tense and ready to spring. Thin lips curled back, baring small fangs as a hiss slipped through. He started forward on all fours, gait slow and animalistic, muscles under his skin working wire tight.

  Tristan fired two shots at the vampire. It took him a few seconds to realize he was shooting at nothing. The vampire wasn’t even in front of him. The flare of cold burn in his abdomen was the only warning he got before a weight smashed into his side. He hissed a curse and hit the ground with a grunt. His hand smacked into the hardwood and burst into pain, the gun skittering away. The beast moved in for a bite and Tristan jabbed a hand into his throat. The vampire gagged, jerking back.

  Tristan tried to flip him off, but the vampire moved too fast, grabbing for him. He was forced to shove an arm under the vampire’s chin just to keep his teeth at bay. The vampire pushed into his shoulder, fighting against his strength. Bloody breath came out hot across his face.

  “Fuck…,” Tristan growled through gritted teeth.

  Angry, the vampire gave a deep growl, grabbed the hand Tristan had pressed into his shoulder and pinned it to the floor at his side. With his free hand the vampire reached down, searching low on Tristan’s body. Tristan gasped, more in shock than pain, when the sharp edge of nails bit into his stomach and warm liquid started to tickle down his sides. Seconds later, the nerves lit up and the pain hit.

  Tristan jabbed again at the monster’s throat making him gag, but the monster wouldn’t move. Instead the vamp leaned forward, mouth agape as he tried to find something to bite on to. Annoyed that he couldn’t, the vampire let out a cry of anger, spraying hot spittle across Tristan’s cheek and dug harder at his stomach.

  Tristan gasped, swallowing a scream as the monster tried to gut him alive. Each new scrape of nail, curl of steel fingers as the vampire ripped at skin, nerves and muscle sent another surge of pain throughout his entire body. All he could do was writhe under the smaller man’s weight and scream his pain while struggling to keep the beast from biting him.

  Frustrated, aching, scared, pissed the hell off, Tristan lifted his head and screamed into the monster’s face. He wasn’t going to die like this. Not as food or fodder to a fucking fledgling vampire. He forced a knee up between them and pushed as hard as he could. The vampire answered with a growl and tightened his hold around Tristan’s wrist hard enough to make his fingers tingle. But the hand digging to China through his stomach stopped. The moment those steel fingers came free, Tristan could breathe again. He sucked in a gasping breath, but couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs for some reason. He felt like he was drowning.

  The vampire growled again, a deep growl that vibrated throughout Tristan’s whole body, and reached for him with that bloody hand. There was more than blood on that hand. If he thought too closely he’d realize that his own flesh was stuck under that thing’s nails. Tristan flung a slew of curses at him, almost a growl, and pulled his other knee up between them. Grunting with the effort, he pushed with both legs. The vampire’s weight shifted and it suddenly went flying backwards with a loud, enraged scream and crashed into the kitchen island, rattling the utensils inside the cabinets.

  Tristan wanted to be amazed at his accomplishment for flinging him so far, but the pain in his stomach was nearly debilitating. He wanted to curl up into a ball right there and learn to breathe again. Sleep sounded good too, but there wasn’t time. The vampire righted himself on all fours, spitting and screaming Russian curses. Tristan scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, a little unsteady, holding a hand over his stomach. Blood came through heavy, soaking the front of his jeans. He looked around quickly. He needed a weapon. The gun was nowhere, lost under a piece of furniture maybe. But there was a kitchen full of knives. If he could get there.

  The vampire suddenly smiled a nasty smirk as he rose to his feet, hands at the ready. He knew what Tristan was thinking. Damn.

  “You know,” Tristan said, “one of us isn’t going to make it, right?”

  That smirk stretched until fangs showed. “Da, èto pravda.”

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t speak Russian, dude.”

  The vampire pointed at him. “Vas-to mne i nado… big gift, Master say.”

  “Well, you can go tell your Master to go fuck himself.”
>
  That did it. The vampire roared with anger and dove at the American. Tristan was hoping he would and ducked the attack. He hit the ground and grunted when his shoulder smacked into the tile. At least the flour kept his skin from snagging and he slid across the tile until he hit the center island. He had precious seconds to get to his feet and find the knife he knew had to be on the island before he was attacked again.

  Tristan had just gotten to his feet when the weight of the vampire slammed into his back, almost flipping him up and over the island. The guy was half his size and pushing him around like he weighed nothing. Still, Tristan had hope. He had to. Fingers pierced into his sides and he screamed, fumbling blindly on the island. Something bit into his finger. He grabbed the cold metal handle and spun, swinging out with a fierce war cry.

  The vampire let go of him, trying to dodge the attack, but he was too careless and slow. They stopped, blinking at each other in shock, the knife sticking out of the vampire’s chest. “Chto za huy!”

  Tristan laughed, shoving the vampire back. “Chips ahoy to you too, pal.”

  The vampire’s expression screwed up into raw rage as he came for Tristan again. Tristan returned the scream, meeting him halfway and smacked a palm down hard onto the hilt. A groan let him know the knife hit deep, sinking to the hilt into the vampire’s heart. For the first time since encountering the monster, it looked frightened. This sent a surge of victory through Tristan. The vampire gasped and tried to pull the knife out, but Tristan jerked it free first, twisting it as it came loose.

  The vampire toppled on his feet, stumbling backwards, the blood flowing from him in a fount of red. Using the vampire’s backwards motion to his advantage, Tristan kicked the vamp hard in his stomach and sent him to his back. The moment the vampire landed, Tristan was on him, driving a knee into the open chest wound. The Russian vamp cried out and writhed under him, clawing at Tristan’s legs, but he couldn’t get up. The beast was trapped and knew it.

  A dark sneer came over Tristan as he raised the large kitchen knife. There was no hesitation in his conviction to kill anymore. He brought the knife down again and again, stabbing at the vampire’s neck, letting his anger and rage build with each swing. He saw nothing else but that thing, the monster under him as he sliced open its neck, blood arching off the blade, splattering every surface around them. The vampire under him was no longer a man, a person, but a thing. A thing to be disposed of.

  And, God, it felt so fucking good to dispose of it...

  Out of air, arms shaking, Tristan sat back. There was blood everywhere—it spread out in a wide puddle around them, covered his hands like thick latex gloves past his wrists to his elbows. Spots cooled on his chest and face. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. But he killed it. And he didn’t get bitten. Sure his stomach was practically torn open and he might bleed to death in the next few minutes but he won.

  Laughter crept up on him and before he knew it, he was in full out hysterics. His stomach was killing him, but he couldn’t stop. The strength left him in a sudden wash of relief and he dropped the knife, falling over. As he laid curled into a tight ball on the floor, he wondered how he managed to get this far. Everything hurt. He was sure his victory was pure luck. Despite that vampire being only a fledgling, Tristan wasn’t strong enough, not nearly, and it should have killed him. But then, somehow, Tristan won. Just. Any older of a vampire would have meant a very painful and violent death. He was too weak, too human to stand a fair chance. While he feared not being human, he feared his death more. And that’s where his real uncertainties all came to light. He knew… he needed to be one of them. He had to die to live.

  “Yur lot would make a guid bloodsucker, mate, get’n yur jollies aff murdering like that. Whut dae yew say, care fur a wee bite?”

  Tristan’s head snapped up. “Desmond,” he hissed. “What the fu—”

  The big vampire grinned. He was wearing a kilt and nothing else from the unfortunate view Tristan had from the floor. “Heard there micht be a raid. Guess we wus too late.”

  “We?” he asked, trying to stand and failing.

  “Term of speech, mate. Jist me.”

  “Great,” Tristan grumbled.

  “Yew ken, that one was no’ yonker—er, fledgling.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” God it hurt to just breathe, let alone talk.

  “He was whut we call a vaneela.”

  “A wha—a vanilla?”

  “Aye. That one wis older than us, but no seikonō. A tame, average.”

  Tristan frowned. He didn’t kill a fledgling? And what the hell was seik—Desmond was suddenly at his side trying to help him stand. “Get the fuck off me, man. God.”

  “Dinnae be such a jessie. Yew’s got a partial collapsed lung. We can fix it right up, mate.”

  “I’m not your mate, asshole.”

  “Aye, but you es Asta’s, then.”

  Tristan glared into Desmond’s face from inches away as he was pulled to his feet. “That a question?”

  The vampire grinned. “Suppose no’.”

  “Where is she?”

  Desmond hosted Tristan up, making him stand upright and the American let out a hiss, trying not to fold over in pain. “Jist coming, mate.”

  A sudden chill tore down Tristan’s back and he felt dizzy. He looked down and frowned. The whole lower half of his body was red. He wondered how much of that was his. From the look of his stomach, quite a bit of it. He was still bleeding heavily.

  God there was so much blood.

  “Aw yurs, mate. Haud still or yew es going to bleed oot.”

  Ash came down the hallway looking like a Viking warrior, hair a bloody and tangled mess, streaks of drying vampire blood flaking off her face and hands, clothes torn and askew. And angry. She was fucking pissed, that was until she saw Tristan anyway. Her eyes widened in shock as she came to an abrupt stop. “What…” She looked back and forth between Desmond and Tristan. “What happened?”

  Tristan smiled and tried to walk to her. Desmond let him go and he tripped. Ash caught Tristan in her cold embrace and lowered him to the floor.

  “Tristan, you are seriously hurt, what happened?

  He looked at her and burst into laughter again, only to end up gasping and coughing.

  “Saw the whole bloody show, saw him kill that vaneela cow, Demyan, like it were a fooking treat.”

  Ash gave a little shudder, not realizing it was Demyan that she’d set Tristan against. She had many memories of that man she wished she hadn’t and would not lament his passing. If she had known, she never would have sent Tristan alone.

  Still gasping for air, Tristan lifted a hand and flicked the other vampire off. “Fuck… you. You could have… helped. Asshat.”

  Desmond laughed. “Did a'richt on yur own, yew wee jessie bas.”

  Ash scowled at Desmond, tightening her arms around Tristan as if to protect him from his words. “Your stomach, is it bad? May I see?”

  “No.” He pushed at her hand. “It’s just a flesh wound.” He gave a short, terse laugh.

  “Stupid ass human, joking at a time like this.”

  He smiled at her. It was the same thing he said to her after her tumble off the bike. But this, well, his tumble was a little worse.

  “You are going into shock,” she said, her voice heavy with disapproval.

  “Look, darling dainty fangs...,” he started and felt as if he would nearly giggle. He was ready to fall into another laughing fit. “We have to find Haruka.” He sighed, feeling more himself suddenly, realizing the weight of his words and the instant fear in Ash’s eyes. “I killed the vampire in the kitchen, but didn’t see Haruka and there were bloody footprints everywhere.”

  Ash looked to Desmond. The big vamp sighed and moved forward. “Right then, we will patch him up.”

  Tristan didn’t even bother fighting as Desmond scooped him up into a fireman’s hold. He was too busy moaning in pain and fighting off the disorientation.r />
  Ash scowled, standing with her sword. “If you do anything—”

  Desmond held a hand up. “Aye, me baws. Go on then, find yur wee lass, we’s take care of this one.”

  “Thank you,” she said and then she was gone.

  Desmond sighed, adjusting Tristan’s still weight on his shoulder. “Right then, let’s git yew patched aw bonny like fur the wee lassie. Oi!” He shook the still form hanging on his shoulder. “Yew alive, mate?”

  “Ki… kiss my ass,” came the strained whisper.

  The vampire laughed, starting towards the bedrooms.

  “No,” Tristan snapped, louder. “I want… I want to go with her. I have to help Ash.”

  “Yew cannae even breathe, mate.” Tristan didn’t answer, but Desmond knew the hardheaded American was still alive. Barely. “Right then, if yew bleed tae death on us, we is no’ tae blame.”

  “Deal,” Tristan breathed. He knew he was in pain, but he felt numb all over. And cold. He knew he should let Desmond fix him up, but there was this nagging pain at the bottom of his stomach that had nothing to do with the crater there, or being pressed up against a vampire. It was fear and sorrow and pain of an emotional kind. Something happened to Haruka. He just knew.

  19: Before I’m Dead

  ASH was sitting on the ground in the back yard, mindlessly petting Haruka’s hair, matted with blood and brains. She tried to cover the girl’s naked body up as much as she could but her nightgown had been torn to shreds. There was no dignity for the child, not even in death. They raped her, her poor, poor Haruka. Raped and bled her, clawing open her flesh. Tore out her throat, blood everywhere. Part of her ear was missing, resting in one of their bellies. Ash would get that scrap of flesh back, burn her whole. It was the least she could do.

  Haruka may have had a broken mind, but she still had instincts and a will to live. She had tried to protect herself with the sword Ash had given her nearly twenty years ago. There were remnants of blood on it that smelled of the vampire across the lawn. The girl could only wound her attackers, leaving one immobilized but alive for Ash’s interrogation.