“I really am sorry for not… I should’ve trusted Romelia. I should’ve been a better friend. It’s my fault she’s dead,” Tyra murmurs. “I didn’t think it was possible for a vampire to love a werewolf, and I was wrong.”
“The rest of the world is wrong too,” I murmur.
Slowly, as if in a trance, I inch forward. My hand brushes Romelia’s long wavy hair back, and my fingertips brush against her cheek. Shocked, I jerk back. She’s as cold as ice, and now, the realization that she truly is dead sinks in. She’s dead, truly gone from this world. Nothing living can be this cold and survive.
I climb onto the slab and gently pull Romelia into my lap, cradling her, whispering to her, trying to find all the words to say that will make everything up to her, but no words can describe my love for her, my grief, my fear at facing a world without her in it.
I need Romelia in my life. How can I say goodbye to her when my world has started because of her? The loss of Romelia feels as if I have lost my heart too, and I don’t know how I can live without my heart.
“Julian, I don’t think we can stay here for long,” Tyra murmurs. “Her parents, their ears… they can’t hear her heartbeat, of course, but they can hear ours, and they don’t know about her death yet. When they find out—”
“Her father knows,” I utter, my voice filled with contempt and scorn, and immediately, I flinch. I shouldn’t talk in such a tone while cradling my love.
“He does? That… That can’t be good. Come, Julian, I don’t like being here. We can talk things over and figure out what to do next—”
“What I want to do next is hold her.”
“Julian…”
“You can go if you’re scared.”
“It’s not that I’m scared,” she protests.
"It's fine if you are. I understand. Her father is a terrible demon, and he's the one who has orchestrated an entire war. You're right to fear him, but I don't. I don't feel any fear. What's the worst thing he can do to me? Kill me? I'll be reunited with Romelia then. If he doesn't kill me, then I will eventually. My only recourse is to be reunited with my love."
“You have to live first before you can die,” Tyra says passionately.
“I have lived, and besides, Romelia lived only for so long before she died. She deserved to have lived so many more years. She’s been robbed of her life—”
“Romelia knew what she was doing. She knew there was a chance her vampire healing wouldn’t save her, considering her blood hadn’t healed Mercy to begin with. Even so, she drank the potion. Her death is her choosing.”
“And so will mine be.”
“You don’t have to die anytime soon.”
“Don’t you see?” I ask Tyra, finally looking away from my love to see Romelia’s distraught friend. “I’m already dead.”
Tyra stares me down, but when I do not blink or look away, she shuts her eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. In the blink of an eye, the vampire flees, probably going to locate my friends to try to get them to talk some sense into me, just as she said earlier.
“Are you done whining?” a cold voice asks.
I whirl around to see a form detach itself from the shadows cast by the stones in the far corner of the catacomb. That form slowly takes the shape of Constantine.
More than a little angry, I wait for my claws and fangs to appear, but they don’t. As much as I hate him, I’m too grief-stricken yet to be in full attack mode. If Constantine has come to fight me to the death, he very well might win.
And I might let him.
Besides, my love remains in my arms, and even if she is dead, I will not risk harming her body by holding her in my claws.
“It’s not whining,” I finally say once he stops a few feet from me. “It’s grief.”
“Grief.” Constantine shakes his head, his lips pursed. “So you say.”
Slowly, ever so gently, I lower Romelia so that she can rest reclined on the slab once again. My heart breaks to see her like this, and I long to kiss her awake. Once I step off the slab, I do lean down to press my lips to hers, but this is not a fairy tale. This is no romance. This is a tragedy, pure and simple. Never has there been a purer love than the love we shared, a love too pure and noble to survive this cruel and bitter world.
I step away from Romelia even as I feel her presence in my heart. She will always be with me. Not even death can truly separate us.
My hand goes to my side. Why exactly? It’s not as if I have a gun or sword or some other kind of weapon.
Constantine strolls forward, looking very much like he has no care in the world. Instead of approaching me, however, he halts beside Romelia, on her other side, and he drops petals, black petals, that of the poisonous hellebore plant, all over her body. The sight enrages me, and now, my fangs appear as do my claws.
“If you think. You can face me and win, you are mistaken,” Constantine says in a bored tone. “If we must fight again, know that I will not flee this time, nor will you. One of us will die. You’ve made it clear you have a death wish, so I might as will oblige you.”
I hiss through my fangs.
“But first, do you think I can have a moment alone with Romelia?” he asks.
The sudden passion and fervor in his tone confuse me. Her father claimed Constantine did love her in a way. Can that be true?
“No,” I spit out. “No, I will not leave you to have a moment with her. You have acted as if she was yours from the start, before you even knew her, and you still don’t know her. You don’t deserve to—”
“You think you own her because of the ring you gave her and the ring you wear. Rings mean nothing. Words mean nothing. All that matters is—”
“You don’t get to dictate what matters. The rings are a symbol of our everlasting love. Rings ae a circle, a sign of unity, a bond that has no beginning, no end. From when we were first born, Romelia and I were fated to be together—”
“Fate. Free will. Which is it that killed her? That will kill you? You act as if you can do as you wish, as if you can have a role in the future, but your future will end in minutes.” Constantine grins at me, his fangs looking more vicious than ever before. “You will die, but I’m afraid you won’t be reunited with Romelia as you hope because there’s a good chance, a very good chance, you won’t end up in the same place as she has. Don’t forget, Julian. As much as she tried to pretend that she wasn’t a demon, she was. Part or not, she has demon blood in her, and we both know where demons belong.”
Chapter 19
Julian
A blind rage comes over me, but I control myself. As much as I want to kill Constantine right here and now, I do not want to do so in front of Romelia. Not in the Covenshade family crypt.
But the vampire shows no sign of moving, and I can feel my form shake as I transform into my wolf despite myself.
The vampire lets out a laugh that doesn’t sound all that different from Romelia’s father. He goes to kick me, but my claws sink into the soft fabric of his pants. I tear it, ripping a hole, and Constantine grumbles a curse under his breath. He adjusts his sportscoat—why is he wearing one? It’s a steel gray color, so it’s not as if he wore black for a funeral, but it’s also not suitable for a wedding either. Then again, I didn’t wear a traditional tux for my wedding.
“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” Constantine asks bitterly. “You’re such an animal, so blind and filled with hate. Even so, I still don’t think you’ll join her. No, you’ll be forever separated, and—”
I launch myself at him, and his hand grips my throat, catching me. Before I can try to swipe my paws at him, he yanks one of the black hellebore flowers from Romelia and rubs it on my snout before shoving it into my mouth. His fingers-turned-claws squeeze my throat, cutting off my air supply. With my tongue, I try to push out the flower. It’s making my throat tingle, and my stomach is churning, but he covers my snout nostrils, and I can’t breathe. As I struggle against him, I end up swallowing.
Almost instantly, I�
�m back to my human form, my throat still in his hands, but Constantine merely laughs again as he drops me to the floor.
Coughing and wheezing, I backpedal a step. “What did… What did you do to me?”
“Oh, I just evened the playing field a bit. You see, I figure I won’t transform into an animal, and you won’t either. No, we can be much more civilized about this.”
“Civilized? There’s nothing civil about fighting to the death,” I rasp out.
"I suppose not, but I've always thought of fencing as a more mature type of sport. What do you think? Care to square off with rapiers? There are other weapons we can fence with, but I prefer—"
“I don’t care what you prefer. We can fight with rapiers, swords, axes, scythes, our claws and fangs and nothing else. All I ask—all I demand—is that we don’t fight here.”
Constantine chuckles as he eyes Romelia. “You think she might be watching over us? Oh, I doubt she has that luxury where she is. You see, Hell is about punishment. She’s as separated from you as she can be—”
“You can go ahead and think that,” I say slowly, gradually calming down, “but you’re wrong.”
My heart beats swifter. It still beats for her even if her heartbeat can't match mine any longer.
“So you say.” Constantine shrugs as he more glides than walks over to the spot where he had emerged from the shadows. He tosses a weapon to me and then bows. “Lead the way. I give you my honor that I will not stake you in the back.”
“You’re the vampire, not me,” I retort, “and I don’t think it’s possible for you to have any honor.”
“Very well. I will go first.”
I follow the vampire out of the crypt, but a part of me remains behind with Romelia. A part of me will always be with her.
Constantine emerges into the darkness. Somehow, it's night now. Time has gotten away from me. I'm not sure when I last slept or ate, but that doesn't matter. I'm fine. I can do this. Constantine will not be the one who kills me. Honestly, my money is on Romelia's father, but for right now, I need to focus on the vampire who thought to make Romelia his bride over some kind of demonic utopia.
He holds the rapier straight up so that it covers one eye, and I mimic his movements. We did have weapons training at Moonstone, but honestly, it's a joke of a course because, honestly, what werewolf will bother to use an axe or a sword? A gun, maybe, if we want to remain incognito, but this is the first time I've ever held a rapier.
"I'll allow you to get accustomed to the weapon first, if you would like," Constantine offers as if this is such an honor.
I respond by whacking my blade against his.
The vampire sighs and lowers his head. “That’s not at all how—”
Without warning, I strike, snaking my thin blade over to his shoulder and digging the point of the blade deep into his arm, only there’s more resistance than there should be.
He gave me a blunted rapier, but the tip of his weapon gleams in the moonlight, as sharp as can be.
Constantine grins, flashing his fangs.
“You’re a coward,” I snap.
“Because I’m a smart man who will have the cards stacked in his favor? Forgive me, but I am not a fool. You are.” He walks around me in a slow circle.
“I am not a fool,” I say slowly, turning to keep pace with him, watching, wary. He’s liable to slice me to ribbons. He’s so confident that he has one arm tucked behind his back. I think fencers might do that often, but I’m not comfortable enough to do that.
“Your footwork needs work,” Constantine advises. “You’re leaning too far forward. Try to keep your weight more evenly distributed. That way, when you lunge—”
I dart back and jump to the side. His lunge is straight ahead, and if I hadn’t moved, he likely would’ve sliced me clear through between my ribs to my heart.
Constantine draws back, cocks his head to the side, and nods. “Well played, but you should have—”
I duck down and strike, aiming for his wrist. He brings his rapier down to parry and then counters. I'm not fast enough to block the blow with my blade. Instead, the rapier scraps against the wrist of my left hand, my non-dominant hand. It got in the way.
“So very sloppy.” Constantine clucks with his tongue. “You really must do better. Don’t they teach you anything worthwhile at your academy? Or do they only worry about your wolves and nothing else, not even your brains?”
I glower at Constantine and stare up at the moon. From her, I can draw power and strength, but will either truly aid me in a fencing duel? I doubt it. Curses! I never should have agreed to this. What hope do I have that I will survive this?
And has he the right of it? If I perish, will I be kept separated from Romelia for all of eternity?
No. If he murders me, there is a chance I will linger. Then, I could… Wait? Commit crimes so that I can ensure that my soul will go to Hell instead of Heaven? The thought causes my stomach to twist into a terrible knot, and I barely avoid another attack from Constantine, only causing him to miss because of my quick jump back. If I were to do that, to earn Hell through my actions, I wouldn’t be the man Romelia fell in love with. She will spur me, hate me, and I cannot have that.
No. There must be another way.
“You’re trying to think,” Constantine says. “It’s hilarious. Do you have a plan yet for how you’re going to survive? Or did my little trick cause your animal mind to shrivel up to the size of a pea?”
I blink a few times and glance up at the moon again. There's the story of the first vampire and his love who had potentially been turned not into a vampire but into the moon. Ambrogio and Selene. As the moon, she could be with him always, and she helped to increase his power, or so the story goes, but the werewolves truly are powered and fueled by the moon. Yes, the black hellebore did something to my wolf, essentially caging him, but there are other powers that werewolves possess, including lunar mind and predator instinct. Now, predators in the wild don't use rapiers, but if I think of the weapon as a long claw… And the lunar mind is a feral mind that allows a werewolf to enter a kind of primal state. Werewolves as wolves in this state are pure predators, prone to violence but also survival.
“Come along, wolfy,” Constantine mocks. “Let’s fight. I’m growing bored.”
“Tell me,” I ask, blocking his next blow but not even bothering to try to counter, backing up a step. “What is your next move now that Romelia is… gone?”
“I assume you mean after you are dead.”
“You can assume that,” I say dryly.
He slashes at me, the move perhaps a bit sloppier than his other ones. Am I getting under his skin?
“There are other living vampires, some who have a tendency toward the demonic side. I suppose even Tyra could serve as a replacement, although honestly, she just does not do it for me. Romelia is so sweet in a way. I longed to corrupt her—”
That’s it. I can’t handle that, and even before I consciously give myself the okay to unlock my lunar mind, I’m already feral. Normally, this state can only be accomplished while in werewolf form, but Constantine prevented me access for the moment. Right now, I have the mind of a feral wolf in my human body.
He goes to strike me, and I brandish my rapier with more power than the blade can handle. It wobbles a bit but doesn’t break as I knock his from his hand.
Constantine slips beneath my wide arc, and he retrieves his rapier just in time to block a blow that came for his throat.
"Now, this is a bit more like it," he says with a gleam in his eyes. "A bit more savage then I'm used to, but you are an animal."
We fight then, hard, brutal, efficient. Our blades clang together again and again, and soon, Constantine isn’t even pretending to fight me. He’s struggling to survive. His earlier confidence is shattered, his laziness long gone, and he’s struggling to stay on his feet.
My left hand slips down to hold my right, and I press the length of my rapier against his. My right hand grasps his hilt, and I y
ank both his blade and mine toward me. He, of course, yanks back, and I alter my rapier to be perpendicular to him instead of parallel, and the force of his yanking back causes my rapier to bury deep inside his chest.
He gapes at me, but before he can move, I rip his rapier out from his hand and slice the thin blade across his throat. His blood trickles from the slender line, and he falls to his knees. My foot presses against his shoulder, and he falls down onto his back. His heartbeat slows with every bit of blood that his heart pumps out of him until his heart beats no more.
Still, I know that is not enough. For a vampire to be truly dead, they have to be burned alive, staked through the heart with wood or silver, which this rapier is not, or else the head must be removed from the body.
My rapier is too blunted for the task, but his is far sharper, and it only takes three tries for me to lop off his head.
Constantine is dead.
So is Romelia.
How soon will it be until I join that number?
Chapter 20
Julian
The sight of Constantine’s dead body, of his blood coating his shirt… My fangs are long. When did my teeth shift? Is my body recovering from the poison? I don’t know, but a strange thirst is coming over me. I want to drink his blood and maybe taste his flesh, this enemy of mine, my enemy of enemies.
No. No, I won’t give into that.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, feeling moonbeams shine down on me. Slowly, I can feel my feral mind fade away. The moon affects me still, but my mind is clear.
My mind is clear to some extent because I still cannot imagine life without Romelia. How can I live and go about my days and nights knowing she remains on that slab of steel?
I have to try to do something, anything.
When I open my eyes, my gaze is on Constantine, on his blood. Even though I know this won’t help any, I grab the empty vials that I kept on me. Even though they aren’t filled with her blood anymore because I gave that blood to Mercy, I held onto the vials, hoping Romelia could refill them.
Blood Haven: Year Three: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 12
