Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Pound. Pound. Thwack.
Gemma blinked to alertness and whacked her head on the underside of the bed frame.
Ouch.
Rolling out from under the bed, she tried to make sense of the sound.
No Skarde.
Holy shit. That was the edge of an axe coming through the door.
Thwack. Thwack.
Angry voices chanted, “Kill the vampires!”
The sun was within minutes of setting. Kind of freaky she could sense it, but right now she thanked her luck for the ability to know. She reached for the window, but a small bit of sun hit her fingertip. Her skin sizzled. She stuck it in her mouth to soothe the burn and glanced around.
She’d been good and remained all last night, then slept the day. He hadn’t kept his promise. He hadn’t returned.
There was nothing remotely useful in the room to protect herself. No weapons.
Once the sun set, she could escape through the window.
She pulled at the sash, but it wouldn’t open.
Closer evaluation showed it had been nailed shut.
Who the hell nailed the windows shut when there wasn’t air-conditioning in the summer?
Maybe they never had true summer here. Or maybe this room was designed to keep its occupants trapped inside.
The noise on the other side of the door increased. The axe had made a decent sized hole in the middle of the door. Why would they wait to attack until now? Maybe their courage had been lacking, or their drunkenness held them back.
A man kicked the door in and rushed inside, the axe held in front of him. A second man followed, holding a wooden cross up like a shield.
She hadn’t discussed crosses, holy water, or garlic with Skarde.
They’d never been used against him in the episodes she’d watched, but she wasn’t about to gamble against a hoard that might know more about vampire weaknesses than her.
The last thing she wanted was a cross that large sizzled into her skin.
Drawing forth as much calm as possible, she stilled. “Are you sure you have the right room? I don’t believe we are on fire in here. I definitely don’t remember ordering a wake-up call for a prayer session.”
Four more men crowded around the one with the axe, each holding various weapons. One had a stake. She really didn’t want that stabbed into her.
“You’re a vampire,” one hissed.
“Am I?” She forced herself not to smile, not to show off her teeth. A quick glance allowed her to gauge the light outside. Another minute or so before the sun was down. She might have to jump through the window before then. It’d hurt.
“You were here with him. The vampire.” The burly man who said this was missing a few teeth and the odor of bad breath carried to her. Definite lack of dental care in his life. Part of her felt sad for him.
“He’s here to take care of your problem at the church. Why would you want to turn him against you by attacking me or him? Would you prefer he not take care of your problem?” She tried to appeal to their sense of reason.
“Death to blood suckers,” the one with dental disease declared.
“Do you kill all things you fear?”
“You don’t scare me. I’ve killed many of your kind,” the one with the axe said.
“Really?” Thank God that came out in an even tone. Her heart beat so loudly it roared inside her head. “Then I guess I’ll go tell Skarde you’re good and we’ll leave.”
The axe guy fidgeted. “You’ll kill a few of us once he’s done.”
“That’s ridiculous. If you’re so good at killing non-humans, why aren’t you down at the church getting rid of the witch who’s gone crazy?”
The guy with the stake edged around the periphery of the room to try to corner her. It was no use reasoning with this group.
“Now!” The guy with the axe lunged.
Gemma dodged the blade’s swipe. The guy on her right jumped over the bed and punched her.
The blow threw her against the wall. In self-defense, she hit him back when he came at her a second time.
Her hit, which in her book should have been a puny slap, launched him across the room and sent his head into the wall with a stomach twisting smack.
Whoa. She was strong. As in videogame super strength.
Riding a wave of adrenaline and terror, the other five men lunged for her.
Just as the axe sliced her upper arm she launched herself through the window, the pane of glass giving at her weight.
Run.
She sprinted through the small village. A few times she slipped on iced over puddles.
No one followed. The town reminded her of something out of an old western movie, with the distinct difference that everything was muddy and freezing.
Icicles hung off roofs. The church was more like a modified castle rather than what she thought of as a church, but she assumed it the place of worship given the gigantic cross on the front of the building.
Huddled on the stone steps of the church, she cradled her hand where she’d cut it on glass. She wondered… A few licks to her skin and the laceration began to heal. Neat. Maybe a bit gross, but healing spit was definitely useful.
Wandering around the outside of the church, she stopped and used some snow to clean the blood off her hand as best as possible, but there wasn’t much she could do about the blood saturating her shirt. At least the slice in her shoulder wasn’t bad.
Skarde didn’t want her here at all, definitely not inside. Where else could she go? The moonlight illuminated a familiar mountain in the distance. The Vorche. Fontaine’s territory. It was too far away.
Even though it was freezing out here, she wouldn’t go inside the church and distract him. She wouldn’t be of help to Skarde. She’d freeze up in the face of anything ugly, stinky, or life-threatening.
She’d wait out here.
Wrapping her arms around her didn’t help to ward off the cold. A toe wiggle proved her extremities still existed, even if she could no longer feel them. If only she had a coat or something. It wasn’t as if she’d taken the time to grab hers on the way out of the inn.
If those men tried to attack her here, she’d go inside.
A while later Skarde burst from the front door.
He was covered in something dark and sticky. It reeked of decaying flesh.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled, glaring down at her.
His breaths came in short pants. Scratches marred his face and, she suspected, other parts of him.
When he made eye contact, gone was any softness or adoration.
In its place was undiluted anger. Darkness shrouded him, and not from the night.
It draped over him like a blanket of gloom.
Her throat tightened. “I had to—”
“I told you not to be here. To give me the goddamned time to deal with this by myself,” he snapped. “Go back and wait. This is hours from being over.”
Her mild shivers of cold progressed to full body shakes. She stepped toward him, instinct demanding she touch him. As if that would break the despair radiating from him. “As I was trying to say—”
“Of course you couldn’t listen,” he interrupted, roaring at her. “That’s your problem. You do whatever the hell you want.” He glanced upward and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he shouted, “Damn it!”
Rage rolled off him, so strong that she was scared of what might happen if she took the one step forward necessary to touch him.
She needed to reach him somehow. This wasn’t the Skarde she knew. “Skarde. Please talk to me. This isn’t you. That thing inside the church did something to you.”
His head tilted to the side, his eyes dark and dangerous. “You are a fucking distraction, a problem. I want ye gone from here. Go back to the inn until after this night. Then I’ll figure out how to deal with you.” He pressed on his forehead. “This is never going to work. Betrayal is inevitable.”
Turning, he stepped toward the door.
She reached for him, barely grazing his hand. “I’m not a problem you need to deal with any longer.”
He paused and stared at her hand. “Go.”
“Skarde. Back there at the inn… I was trying—”
“I was doing fine before you showed up. I have my way of doing things without distractions. I was doing pretty well. Now you’re here, shooting my concentration all to hell. I’m better without you.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Blood pounded in her temples.
He didn’t mean what she was hearing. This was about right now, not overall.
Right? He didn’t regret her being in his life.
Or did he? She’d only been around a while.
They’d had fun, but maybe it wasn’t as great for him.
The inevitability of the stupid prophecy may have finally eroded whatever trust they’d built.
She said, “Don’t go back in there right now. Calm down and talk to me. Whatever’s in there can wait.”
He knocked her hand away when she tightened her grip. “Talk is for pussies. I need to do what I came here to do. That doesn’t involve you. Get the hell out of here.”
“You’re hurting, Skarde.” She tried to hold her ground, even though her legs were shaking and unease was eating her alive. This Skarde terrified her.
“That’s a part of the job. I always hurt. I don’t have time for you here, in my life…everything.” He fisted his hair on both sides of his head, the tension in his forearms so strong his muscles rippled. His voice came out hoarse and thickly accented, “I cannae deal with what ye’ll do to me.”
He yanked open the church door. It slammed shut behind him.
Bang!
She fell to her knees, completely devastated. Terrified for his safety and mental health. Terrified for herself.
And hurt. He didn’t trust her.