The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,16

in stark contrast with her usual t-shirt and ripped jeans or battle gear, from what he had normally seen. Her hair was elegantly swept up, revealing her bare shoulders and neck, normally hidden by its length. She wore a black dress that fell just above her knees and was drawn up at the hem, dotted with small sparkling beads, and lined across the low neckline with delicate black lace. Her dark eyes were streaked with black and silver, and perhaps most striking of all, a white-silver pendant hung delicately about her neck. The curves and angles of it spoke to him, almost as strongly as the one around his own neck at the same moment, and he could almost feel the tugging of chain at the back of his neck as the two marks longed to draw together.

For a moment, he didn’t realize she was looking at him. She and Mira had reached the group, and now stood among them, ready to depart. His heart skipped again as he strangled the feeling into submission. He had spent a restless night convincing himself that the foreign feeling was unwelcome. He wouldn’t-couldn’t let his heart take control again, it was something so completely uncharacteristic of him. Maybe he had felt something, but it didn’t matter, he didn’t deserve something like that, someone like her. Each time he felt his desire to succumb to his heart, he remembered the darkness deep inside his soul that he knew all too well to open to another.

Now, he scanned the party again, but couldn’t find her this time. She had left the group a moment ago, but didn’t seem to be anywhere within his sight. Through his thoughts, a shrill scream shattered his uneasy peace of mind. Chaos erupted and shadows crept from every corner, closing in on the dancers and mingling laughter. Max immediately drew his sword which had been resting on its hilt under a secrecy spell. More screams filled the air, as though to accompany the lone first cry, and all hell broke loose to the sound of crashing bass.

She slipped the circlet off her arm, and watched it unfurl into the slender and powerful sword, similar to a katana. He did the same with his ring, creating a sword slightly shorter and broader than hers. From the moment she entered the room, time had slowed to a crawling pace, though it must have been only seconds that had passed. Before she had her wits completely about her again, a vampire was upon them, white fangs poised for attack. To her surprise, it was Cal who struck first, his sword slicing into the creature’s throat. Red blood poured through the gouge, human blood, not its own. The creature’s dark hair and eyes blended into the background scene, but its pale skin nearly shone. The blow knocked the creature back, stumbling, but it quickly regained balance. Its throat had been slit, but this of course, was not a deadly strike to a vampire. It brandished no weapon, for it had no need of one; the dark magic coursing through its veins gave it uncharacteristic strength and resilience. Claws came down across her shoulder, razor sharp and unexpected.

Claws, she thought, that’s new. Dark magic: one, Nameh: zero. The cuts seemed to rip a hole in her contained rage, now escaping as quickly as air from a torn balloon. Her sword could barely be seen as it flicked swiftly to cross the expanse of empty space between her hand and the creature’s non-beating heart. The agony across the creature’s twisted face was short-lived; it dropped to the ground dead. She knew there was little time, but fell to the ground next to it, sucking the life force from it, as it had done through pointed fangs too many times before. The creature was nearly gone, and she looked up at Cal, who only shook his head at her silent offer. His magic must be well replenished. She drew herself up, relishing the magical high that filled her mind. Her senses buzzed to new heights as shadowy figures became clearer and she could even smell each creature’s distinct scent in the room. Remembering the extra daggers strapped to her thighs, she unsheathed one and handed it to Cal.

“When attending a vampire party, one should always carry a silver or gold weapon.” Her white teeth flashed him reassurance.

“Duly noted.”

She gave him another smile, and motioned for him to follow. They ran toward the front of the hall, where