Chapter 15
Fifteen
Nightside
Millennia of instinct made Silt lunge to his side when the air whistled. A blade sliced an inch above his head to clang against the cavern wall.
The vampire had swung on him! “You little leech!” He raised his own weapon—just in time to block her next strike.
He scrambled to his feet, managing to defend against a third hit. “Stealing my head while I sleep! After all I’ve done for you?” She was no better than his concubines. Perfidious women all! “I’ve protected you. I offered you blood. I made you a fire.”
“Oh, in that case, feel free to kill my brother!” Their breaths were loud as they circled each other. “You said you would keep watch. I should skewer you just for falling asleep on the job.”
“And to think I’d considered sparing you. You’ve earned my revenge all on your own.”
“If only that frightened me. Empty threats from an empty sorcer—” She charged with blistering speed.
He parried, battering her weapon. “You really want to do this?”
“Quite. I won’t rest until Mirceo is safe.”
“And I won’t rest until revenge is mine. I worship it, female. Vengeance is everything.”
“It would be to a man like you, a cruel cipher with nothing else in his life.” She struck again, feinting high, then aiming low.
He blocked, narrowly defending the artery in his leg. “You call me cruel? When you drink your victims, do you send them home with a bandaged throat and a pat on the head? No. Your eyes are red because you drain your prey to death, down to the very pit of their souls. Admit it.”
Color high, she snapped, “ You are the villain here! I’ve never harmed another living creature, except in self-defense.”
She couldn’t lie. “And your eyes?”
“A Horde vampire clawed me.”
Plague. “You’ve never tapped a neck?” Had he brushed away that possibility because otherwise he’d have to admit he was tormenting a young innocent?
“Never! Most Dacians consider drinking from others a deviancy, a pollution of our rational minds.”
No wonder Mirceo had been clear-eyed. “Don’t vampires live to take throats?”
Kosmina kept her weapon up as they continued to circle. Tension ricocheted between them. “We would harvest too many memories, losing our revered logic.”
Even if a vampire didn’t possess that blood-reading ability—and most Horde vampires didn’t—they still couldn’t drink indiscriminately without madness trailing them. “That plague you landed is going to do a number on any logic you might possess.”
She raised her chin. “Nothing could horrify me more. I’ll greet dawn before then.”
He fought against what might have been a kernel of sympathy. She didn’t feel any for him, saw him only as a dissolute addict bound by a vow. And now he saw her as a clueless princess who’d bumbled into a shit fate. “If you plan to greet dawn, why are you fighting so hard for escape?”
“I’m not ready to give up. Once I get free of Nightside, I can consult Dacia’s healer. If she can’t cure me, then I’ll seek out a magical talisman that grants wishes, a ring possessed by a powerful sorceress.”
“You’re not talking about Dorada’s Ring of Sums.” La Dorada, the Queen of Evil, possessed that talisman, a wishgiver with a twist: the more wishes one made, the farther off course one’s outcomes went.
Kosmina slowed. “You know her?”
“By and by.” Since Sorceri were relatively short-lived for immortals—they didn’t enjoy the protective unity of a Lykae pack or the Horde’s ability to trace—the older survivors tended to become aware of each other. “Heard she got mummified somewhere.”
“She’s returned. She now grants the use of the ring if one gives a vow of absolute fealty, but she only bargains with those who are good.”
“Good, is it? The Queen of Evil can control all evil beings—that’s her Sorceri power—so she must be looking to expand her reach.” For what purpose? “Only a fool would swear fealty to that one. Beware the Sorceri.”
“I do, especially you.”
“Especially me, little princess.”
“What if that ring is the only thing that can save my life?”
“I’d prefer death,” he said, and he meant it. “You’re just delaying the inevitable. She’ll make you wish you were dead when she’s using you to kill your loved ones, or some other waking nightmare.”
A flicker of doubt arose in Kosmina’s courageous gaze, and some long-buried part of him didn’t like that he’d put it there. He commanded himself to muzzle this fascination he felt for her. Lips curving, he said, “I’d make your peace, sweet, and prepare to feel the rays.”
“Loathsome man! Again, you are the villain here.”
“Appears so.”
“Look at you. My innocence changes nothing, does it?”
“You were about to behead me in my sleep! That’s the closest I’ve ever come to death. You remain a menace.” Besides, Revenge still commanded him. He would keep the vampire close in case her brother showed. But Silt feared that was not the only reason he wanted her next to him. Protecting her against those wendigos and saving her from the lava had felt . . .
Good.
As ever, the hedonist in him craved more.
She twirled her weapon. “I do remain a menace where you’re concerned—a menace with a purpose to . . .” She trailed off, cocking her head.
“What is it? Your ears are twitching.”
“Silence!” she hissed.
“Ordering me like a servant?” Like a fucking Inferi? Memories of slavery bubbled up.
Silt should have been the strongest in his homeworld, but he’d been defenseless against the Sorceri with their chilling abilities. And they’d despised Inferi—considered them a constant reminder of a hellish existence that could befall any of them. His hands glowed as he relived torments. “Princess, you are no longer in your gilded kingdom, and you’re about to learn—” His diatribe was cut short when lumbering footsteps sounded in a tunnel parallel to theirs. “Even I can hear that.”
To herself, she murmured, “It’s immense, whatever it is.”
“Do you detect a heartbeat?”
She shook her head.
“I was afraid of that.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s an undead basilisk.”