A Vampire for Christmas - By Michele Hauf Page 0,92

down and stroked the feathers, some of which stuck out at odd angles from being mishandled. With another delicate brush of her hands, the wings seemed to come alive, the feathers fluttering slowly before another intense burst of light had all the vampires in the room shielding their eyes against the glare.

The sound of wings beating filled the air along with a heavenly choir of song before the light abruptly died down.

Angelina now stood before him in glorious splendor. Her body naked and her shimmering wings of white outstretched. Then, with a shake of her shoulders, she tucked the wings tight against her body. Her dark gaze settled on him and instead of doubt and worry, there was nothing but conviction there as the wings deliberately disappeared from view.

She believed in him, he realized.

Angelina reached up and cradled his cheek, her skin softer than it had ever been. Warmer, driving away the pain of his wounds. Loving, without restraint or limit. Inside him came an uplifting lightness in his soul, a priceless gift that fought against the darkness into which Ramirez wanted to drag him. A darkness in which the vampire would be content to live, but he was not that demon. He never had been that monster despite the physical change that Ramirez had wrought on him.

Empowered by that knowledge, Damien faced the other vampire, arms spread in surrender. Inviting the violence that could no longer touch his soul. “Come, Pedro. Do your worst, but know that you will not win this Holy Night.”

Ramirez seemed startled by the summons, but didn’t refuse it. He struck out at Damien with the knife and sliced a deep furrow from shoulder to rib, but Damien didn’t move. He just bit his lip against the pain and prepared himself to endure another blow.

Ramirez honored his unspoken request, slashing out at Damien, this time with a swipe from rib to rib. Damien grunted in distress and bent slightly, but then straightened and once again outstretched his arms. Blood flowed from every wound, the metallic smell scenting the air and exciting the nearby vampire crewmen. Their eyes glowed more brightly as they picked up the odor and licked their lips, ready for a taste.

But Damien glanced at them and issued a growl and a warning. “This is between the two of us.”

The crewmen held back, cowed by Damien’s resolve and by the snarl of their captain, warning them to stay out of the fray.

“Will you not fight, boy? Are you afraid of me like you were of your father?” Ramirez taunted, but Damien held his ground, no longer that frightened and angry young man.

Damien’s peace only seemed to enrage Ramirez. The vampire captain thrust forward and the silver dagger pierced deeply into Damien’s gut.

As Ramirez ripped out the blade, blood spurted from the wound and soaked Damien’s already bloodstained shirt. Within him the traces of silver burned, weakening him, but he kept his position in front of Angelina, offering his protection.

Time and time again Ramirez struck. Each blow took a little more of Damien’s life, but he held fast, somehow staying on his feet. Somehow protecting Angelina until she was pleading for him to act.

“You cannot do this, my love. Defend yourself before it’s too late,” she cried, but Damien ignored her pleas. As long as he did not engage, there would not be a repeat of the Christmas Past and Present that Angelina had shown him.

Dark circles grew ever more present in his gaze and he swayed, close to falling.

“Coward,” Ramirez growled and grabbed hold of Damien’s arm, trying to pull him away from Angelina, but Damien dug deep within himself and held his ground, shielding his beloved.

Angered beyond reason and clearly aware of the possibility that he would fail to get what he wanted, Ramirez reared back with his knife and rushed toward Damien. Ramirez obviously planned to reach the one thing that might goad Damien to act: Angelina.

Damien realized his foe’s intent and blocked Ramirez’s path, absorbing the full impact.

The force of the blow was so powerful that Ramirez’s knife cleaved bone, heart and spine until the hilt became buried against the wall of Damien’s chest.

Both men stared down at the weapon, which Ramirez still held, but then the vampire captain released the hilt and backpedaled away, seemingly stunned by Damien’s sacrifice, aware that it meant he had lost the battle.

The silver in the weapon seared Damien. His heart, pumping futilely against the damage, sent miniscule bits of the poisonous metal throughout