Neferata - By Josh Reynolds Page 0,52

and splintered as she dug out Kurven’s heart. Wrenching the organ loose she stared at it for a moment before she buried her fangs in it, swallowing its final, plaintive beat. She let Kurven sink into the darkening water and climbed out, still holding the heart in one hand.

The fight between her followers and the Strigoi had been quick. Only Zandor and Gashnag had remained to fight, while the others had fled as soon as they realised that Kurven was dead. Gashnag lay groaning on the ground, Stregga’s foot pressed to the back of his skull and his blood dripping from her hands. Naaima was far stronger than a puling creature like Zandor and she had him on his knees, his arms twisted behind his back and his scalplock jerked tight, forcing him to stare up at Neferata as she swayed towards him, trailing Kurven’s blood behind her.

‘Somehow, I think you thought that this was going to go differently, Ajal Zandor,’ Neferata purred, sinking to her haunches. She held up Kurven’s mangled heart and showed it to him. ‘I want you to remember this moment, Zandor. Remember my hand on a Strigoi heart, and I want you to recall that it could just as easily have been yours.’ She clenched her fist, crushing the lump of meat. ‘Let him go.’

‘We should kill him,’ Naaima hissed, leaning close to Zandor.

‘Aye, let’s take his fangs,’ Stregga said.

‘We already have,’ Neferata said, gesturing curtly. ‘Let him up, and Gashnag as well. Let’s not keep these fine ajals from their business, shall we?’

Zandor left, his glare hot with rage and not a little fear. Neferata smiled, satisfied. ‘The memory of Strezyk was getting stale. Now there’s a new memory to dampen the fire in their bellies,’ she said, looking at the others. Only Naaima wasn’t listening. Instead, she was crouched over the girl who’d been guarding the door. Neferata saw at once that the Strigoi had been at her. Some of them saw humans only as cattle. She looked at Rasha and Stregga. ‘Did you see the ones who did this?’

‘I did,’ Rasha growled.

‘Find them and bring me their fangs.’ Neferata looked at Iona and Anmar. ‘Follow Zandor and see where he goes. I want to know who convinced that jackal that he could get away with this.’ The vampires moved quickly, faster than the human eye could follow. Neferata watched them go and then turned back to Naaima. ‘Is she dead?’

‘Not yet.’ Naaima looked mournfully down into the girl’s features. ‘But she will not survive these wounds. Not unless we do something.’ A note of pleading entered her voice.

Neferata looked down at the serving girl, her body marred by great slashes and gouging, sloppy bite-marks. Her blood dripped down Naaima’s arms. Her eyelids fluttered and a quiet moan escaped from her mouth. Something that might have been pity stabbed at Neferata. Pragmatism reared its head, crushing pity beneath its relentless tread.

She looked at Naaima. ‘I have no need of her,’ she said. ‘Not with Djazk’s women.’

‘She was wounded in your service,’ Naaima said, stroking the girl’s brow. A fever-sweat had broken out, and Neferata could smell death congealing in the girl’s wounds. ‘You owe her…’

‘I owe her nothing. She failed, and she has paid for that failure. Besides, of what use would such a creature be to me?’ She knew it was the wrong thing to say even as she said it.

‘You forget who you speak to,’ Naaima said, and her voice was iron. ‘What was I, but a maid? I was a concubine, Neferata. I was a lower possession than a horse or hound. And you found use for me.’

Neferata looked at her handmaiden, eyes narrowing. ‘Are you challenging me?’

‘Yes,’ Naaima said simply. She neither bowed her head nor looked away. Between them, the girl moaned again, piteously.

Nonplussed, Neferata hesitated. She brushed a lock of the girl’s hair out of her face. ‘It is too late. I cannot save her,’ she said.

‘You can.’

Neferata met Naaima’s eyes and the former Queen of Lahmia was the first to look away. ‘What is her name?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘Layla,’ Naaima reminded her. ‘Her father was killed by the orcs. She used to work in the kitchens of Ushoran’s palace. The other girls accused her of putting on airs, and the cook beat her for being disrespectful. She does not know her place, and she does not fear the dark. That is why I took her.’

‘More fool she,’ Neferata said. Tenderly, she took the girl from Naaima

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