Asil’s Fifth Date Scheherazade #11
“I’ve never fed from a werewolf as old as you are before,” he mused. “It was the most extraordinary thing.”
He struck suddenly, in the middle of a word.
Asil could not possibly have defended himself effectively, but the speed of the attack meant he had no chance at all.
Asil felt the sword slide through his body and deep into the ground, pinning him there like a butterfly… Mariposa…on a lepidopterist’s mount.
He gave up the last shreds of hope.
Asil could still—and would—make the dead thing pay for the blood he was about to take. But Asil was not in the habit of lying, not even to himself. He was going to die today.
I don’t want to die at a zoo in the rain, killed by a baby-faced vampire, he thought as pain and weakness threatened to rob him of clarity. Then he thought, I don’t want to die before I figure out how Ruby fixed my wolf.
I don’t want to die.
Truly, Allah had a sense of humor. Asil would have died—if not happily, then contentedly—any time these past twenty years. Until Ruby.
So, of course, today would be the day he died.
The darkness lightened and a faint hum filled the air as the lantern show came to life around them and cheerfully soothing music that sounded almost as if it came from a calliope or something like it began to play.
The tree construct next to Asil lit up with giant flowers of purple, blue, and pink, with luminescent strings of light beads dangling to the ground.
Even in the fog of death, he thought it beautiful.
He wouldn’t mind so much if he died in the midst of such beauty.
Beside him, almost within reach of Asil’s fangs, the vampire had paused in surprise at the light show.
“You didn’t quite kill Beatrice, I think,” he said.
“Some of us take a lot of killing, don’t we?
She has a talent for electricity work. It is useful, but don’t worry, I will finish her off and make sure none of these come back.
So your night will not be entirely useless, you see.
With all of them gone, I will control the story of how I killed the Moor.
I will be sure the world knows that you fought the good fight. ”
VIII
Two of the human-shaped wolves were down before Ruby saw any vampire at all. The wolves—whatever their shape—moved like swift-flowing water. The vampires moved so fast that mostly Ruby just caught impressions.
A minute or so after the first wolf fell, there was a hiss of…something that scraped across her nerve endings. Not sound, though she felt like she might have heard it with her ears.
“What was that?” she asked Alan, who was still guarding her and the vulnerable humans in case everyone was wrong and the vampires could get inside the mansion.
“Witchcraft and a little pack magic,” he answered. Like Ruby, he had moved to the window to stare out into the darkness. “Pack magic to make the humans stay away and not notice any sounds or lights or weird stuff.”
“Lights?” Mari-Brigid asked.
“Weird stuff?” Ruby asked at the same time.
“Vampires gain odd abilities as they age,” Alan answered. “Magical things. There’s supposed to be at least one of the old ones who can teleport. I’ve heard of another one who can create fireballs—like in D his fur was soaked in the stuff. But he wasn’t cold because he was surrounded by warmth and a sound reminiscent of a chain saw.
She’s purring, noted his wolf.
Asil didn’t hurt, which he found confusing because the last time he’d been conscious he’d had a sword stuck through his rib cage.
Then he realized who the wolf meant when he said “she” and opened his eyes and tried to stand up at the same time.
He’d have made it if his hip hadn’t lit up like fire, meaning his right rear leg refused to move properly.
Good, said the lioness. You are awake. An hour later and we might have some problems because people will start arriving. I can keep the few who guard this place at night away from here, but if I do it for too many people, someone is going to notice.
The lanterns were dark and the music was silent.
You were supposed to stay safe, he told her.