To Kill a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,25
rest of the world is forgotten.
With fluid confidence he steps over two discarded, bloody remains of what I can only assume are the ones that didn’t make it. They lie in a heap of tattered flesh, their stench clinging to the damp cave walls. His thin cracked lips part, and his breath becomes ragged as he appears to control himself. With gentle restraint, his dry knuckles graze my cheek, trailing down to skim my jawline and neck. My eyes clench closed as I lean into his touch. Power radiates off of him. Beneath the frail exterior lies something ancient, wise and … dangerous.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?” I ask in a breath.
Another heavy exhale is his only reply for a few long moments. His breath cuts through the shadows; a sharp and rattling noise.
“If I’d had the strength, I would have never let you go, darling.” He leans into me, and I bring my palms up, caressing the smooth sides of his head while staring into his sparkling eyes. “When you changed into your true form and your thoughts became closed to me, it drove me mad.” His eyes slip closed as my thumbs begin to trail across his slick cheekbones. “The hybrid will be rewarded for bringing you home. We’ll rise together, you and I. We will conquer the lower races, and soon everything will be ours once more.”
No one has ever promised me the world before. It isn’t nearly as romantic as he makes it sound.
With all the strength I possess, I begin pressing my palms together. His fleshy skull makes a small cracking sound as his eyes flash open, wrath blazing in his pupils. Sharp and dirty nails sink into my shoulders like knives digging into an entrée. He slams me into the nearest wall, the severe rocks grinding over my flesh as he drags me across the room to Declan.
“What did you do to her!” he roars, flinging me at Declan’s feet. Rough pebbles embed into my forearm as my body lands against the cold, wet rock, my palms splitting open and then healing in an instant.
Too much anger rumbles through my body, begging to come to life. I remain against the cold hard ground. My limbs protest beneath me, strung tight with adrenaline. Still, I remain an image of weakness at his feet.
“She was perfect when I left her. What did you do?” Atticus roars into Declan’s impassive face. The hybrid lowers his eyes, the seamless appearance of obedience.
From just a few yards away, a shrill whine creeps toward us. I roll toward the noise, lying on my side as a lean and beautiful wolf steps into the entrance of the cave. Its heart shaped nose sniffs curiously into the darkness. A hesitant shift in its weight takes it a step away from us, uncertainty clinging to its every move as yet another low whine escapes its snout.
“Have you been followed?” Atticus asks, taking a single step closer to Declan, snaking a frail hand around the hybrids dirty white shirt, fisting it until Declan is standing on the toes of his boots.
“No. It probably smells the bodies.”
I swallow hard at the mention of the bodies that are beginning to smell better and better the longer I remain here with my fellow vampire. We’re a pair, he and I. A mismatched pair.
“I’ll get rid of the wolf,” Declan tells him, but Atticus flings the hybrid to the ground as well. My friend joins me at my side, my muddy arm brushing against his.
With the careful precision of a hunter, Atticus strides toward the animal, another knowing whine filling its slender body. Its bushy tail lowers as its ears perk up, listening for what might be lurking within the dark cave.
With silent movements I stand, trailing behind the ancient vampire like a crawling shadow. They say only the Crimson Sword or the cursed land of the Red Hills can kill a vampire.
That isn’t true. All it takes is a vampire to kill another vampire.
“Stay,” Atticus whispers to the cowering wolf. Their eyes lock for an instant, and that’s all it takes. “Stay …” he whispers again with a gentle and dripping tone.
The beautiful wolf lowers itself unnaturally at the feet of its commanding master. Its spine almost circles as the animal curls itself warmly and safely into a mass of soft, chocolate-colored fur.
Gradually, Atticus’ skeletal hand lowers to the wolf, an image of love portrayed in his careful movements. When the wolf’s delicate ear flickers,