Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I potter around the stable yard and find a light job of scrubbing the automatic water feeders.
They are bowls in the corners of the stables that automatically fill with water.
I scoop handfuls into a wheelbarrow I’ve parked below to catch the water.
Then I scrub the already-clean bowls. The bowls do have rubber plugs in the bottom, but they are sealed so tight, I worry that if I even managed to get the stopper free, it wouldn’t go back. So I scoop.
My hands are red and almost going blue from the cold water, but I’m determined to do something. I’ve been trying my best to keep moving without lifting or doing anything heavy. I sigh. To be honest, I get in Sam’s way.
Next, I’m going to do the horse feeds.
I hear a strange noise and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I rub my wet, stinging hands on my jumper and pop my head out of the empty stable.
I count at least a dozen vampires outside the property line. They are heading towards us. “Oh bloody hell. Sam, friends of yours?” I shout. Sam appears from Munchkin’s stable with a grooming brush in her hand. She takes in the situation and shakes her head.
“Nope, I don’t have friends. Apart from you—only you seem to like me.”
Eleanor appears around the corner. With grim determination, she grabs hold of my arm and guides both Sam and me into the feed room.
“Emma, do not move.” There is the telltale glow of her warrior mark and with a wave of her hand across the doorway, she sets a ward around the feed room.
Whoa. Two short swords appear in her hands from out of nowhere. I watch with trepidation and a bit of awe as Eleanor goes into warrior mode.
“Vampires, you are trespassing. I suggest you leave with haste or otherwise prepare to die,” she shouts as she heads towards them.
“I wonder what film that’s out of?” Sam asks as she pokes at the solid, clear fae ward. It looks entirely different from the witch-made wards that I’m used to seeing. I shrug. Eleanor is so badass she can pull off the cheesy line.
“We have no quarrel with you, elf. We just want the girl,” a vampire shouts back.
“The girl is my charge. If you want her, you must come through me.”
“That’s defo bad dialogue from a movie. Ooh, I can’t wait for the heads to fly. I love a good fight.” Sam claps her hands together and grins. Then she literally presses her nose against the ward. “I bet she gets at least seven before the rest run away. I wish we had popcorn.”
“You don’t eat popcorn,” I say, distracted as the vampires invade the land at the back of the house. Hmm. I can’t help thinking, why hasn’t the house and stable yard got a boundary ward? With an established ward, they wouldn’t be able to get so close. It makes little sense.
Eleanor twirls her two swords, perhaps warming up her wrists or as an intimidation tactic. Why she does it isn’t as important—it’s how impressive it looks.
The vampires flood the grass field and I watch as Eleanor engages them.
Suddenly she begins to dance with her twin swords.
That’s the only way I can describe her movement and fighting skill: a dance.
I’m in awe of her talent. Both swords work independently of each other, yet they still work together.
The vampires don’t stand a chance. Their once-human bodies, although stronger, are no match for the warrior elf as she swiftly cuts through them, one slice at a time.
They fall at her feet. I cringe. It’s so brutal.
At one point Eleanor fights five vampires at once.
Instead of it being an advantage to the vampires, they get in each other’s way.
It makes Eleanor’s fluid dance even more dramatic, and it also makes her job easier.
Slash, stab, twist. She jumps, and at one point she even rolls, avoiding a deadly strike from behind when a vampire tries to sneak up on her.
“Whoa, she is like a ninja,” Sam says in awe.
I feel sick. The hairs stand up on the back of my arms. It is like watching art. Deadly, horrible art. Yet I still can’t help worrying about her—the odds are overwhelming.
Even though Eleanor’s impressive display and her fighting prowess are making me feel a little queasy, she is risking her life to keep me safe. The petty things I have felt about her fade quickly and become insignificant. I respect the hell out of her.
My silly empathy makes me sad for the vampires, though. Whoever sent them, totally sent them unprepared, and the massacre unfolding is a tragedy.
“Ooh,” Sam says, her hands now pressed to the ward as well as her nose. I cringe as Eleanor serves a brutal slice across the torso of a big vampire.
“Will some of them recover?” I ask as I twist my hands.
“Yeah, if they get blood in time. As long as they don’t lose their heads or get a direct hit to the heart, it’s all good,” Sam mumbles back, distracted by the gore outside.
There is a growl and a flash of red fur, and Riddick joins the fray.
The vampires scatter then as Riddick’s fur—like he has struck a match—lights up with blue flames.
Oh my God. Flaming fur.
Sam lets out an appreciative ooh. I won’t be able to look at him the same way again. And here I was wondering if he could do a tiny flame on his human hand like John. When he’s got enough fire magic to light his fur on fire. Wow.
The fire magic lights up the entire garden with a blue glow. Riddick is like a mini blue sun as he burns and tears into the surrounding vampires.
Yet they keep on coming.
It’s then that we hear the voices: “While everyone is busy, why don’t we kill the horses?” My eyes widen with horror.
“Oi, if you harm a hair on those ponies, I will rip your ugly faces off,” Sam snarls, banging her palm uselessly on the ward. A face appears, and it looks Sam up and down.
“What you gonna do, stuck behind that ward? You can’t do shit. Charles, you do the little’n and I’ll get the big’n. Horse blood is a proper treat.” He licks his lips.
“You fuckers. Leave them horses alone. I will hunt you down, I promise. I will fucking hunt you down. Them horses are not for eating.” Sam again slams her hand against the ward with a growl.
With a chuckle and a wave, the vampire stomps away. The other one has already slipped into Munchkin’s stable.
The vampire’s hand goes to Bob’s stable door.
Without me thinking, my own hand lands on the sharp knife, the one we use to open bales of hay and bags of feed. I grab the black handle in my fist.
I’m so livid my vision has gone hazy, almost black. An inhuman growl rumbles in my chest and leaves my throat with a roar.
Whatever Sam is saying—shouting—is totally outside the bubble of my rage. At the forefront of my mind is Bob. My full attention is honed in, and all I can see is that vampire.
I growl again and shoulder Sam out of my way.
I step through the ward.