Chapter 21 #3
Then he turned to me and said, “Let’s go,” as a wall of piercing, agonized wails rose up behind us.
By the time Septimus and I made it to the bottom floor of the fortress, we were both drenched in blood and I had long ago lost track of how many different people it had come from.
I was practically blind in my left eye because a glob of gore was now sliding into it, but I needed my functional hand for Zefiah, who was indulging in one of the greatest feasts of vampire blood that she’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
We cut through soldier after soldier as we carved a gory path down the stairs, and I was grateful that the Shadowborn were distracted and caught off guard by the unexpected attack.
I was on the verge of collapse by the time we reached the bottom.
My eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness when Septimus commanded, “Cover me.”
As if I hadn’t been doing that this entire time—one-armed, no less.
He kneeled next to one of the doors and began working at the frame, doing something I couldn’t see.
Not that I had the time to watch anyway, because an onslaught of both Shadowborn and Nightborn soldiers already had followed us down the stairs.
I planted myself at the bottom, strategically positioning myself so that the corner shielded me, and swung Zefiah at body after body with frantic ferocity.
“Hurry!” I gritted out breathlessly. I was no longer even attempting to kill. Just trying to buy us precious seconds. I swung wildly at a particularly persistent Shadowborn soldier.
Behind me, Septimus muttered, “I’m doing my—”
The Shadowborn I was fighting was abruptly yanked around the corner with a wet cry. I staggered backward just as a streak of darkness plummeted from above and landed in front of us.
I breathed a curse as the figure straightened, her wings stretching out behind her.
{The Nightborn queen,} Zefiah murmured, heavy with bloodlust.
Vampire royalty were marked by Heir Marks, tattoos of red.
The Nightborn, it was said, had such Marks on their wings, too.
The Nightborn king and queen were the subject of plenty of gossip, even in the human kingdoms. It was a nice story, after all—he was Turned, and she was half human, both unlikely fits for a vampire throne.
Some said they were practically part god, due to gifts granted by the goddess Acaeja.
I’d always dismissed these stories as amusing exaggerations. But as the queen of the Nightborn lowered to us, her batlike wings lined with bloody red, wielding two night steel blades with cracks of glowing crimson running through them, I thought to myself, Turns out they were right after all.
The Nightborn queen wore fine leather armor, all black. She had long, sleek black hair which whipped around her in the wind. Her eyes were bright silver, and they speared through Septimus.
“You,” she snarled. She looked only at him—as if everyone else, me included, was meaningless. “You thought we wouldn’t find you?”
Septimus smiled, albeit in a way that silently said, Well, shit.
“Always a pleasure, Oraya,” he said over his shoulder, and worked faster.
But the Nightborn queen didn’t wait before she pushed past me, knocking me aside like an inconsequential piece of scenery, and lunged for him. Nightfire trailed her every movement, streaks of blue-silver light shadowing her hands.
I caught myself against the wall, a sneer at my lips. I didn’t appreciate being swatted away like a bug. And before the Nightborn queen could land her strike, I leaped after her, Zefiah raised. Her wings were spread, her back to me. Arrogant of her, to give me a perfect opening.
I struck right between her shoulder blades, piercing armor, aiming to go deep enough to hit her heart. Zefiah’s light flared, her pleasure at drawing the blood of a vampire queen practically orgasmic. The blood was deep red, darker than a human’s but lighter than the black of vampires’.
Oraya whirled to me. A crack split the air as Zefiah, barely, blocked her strike. My arm trembled with the force of holding her back, and as we stood there, locked together, her eyes narrowed. They practically glowed in the darkness. I watched them flick from me, to Zefiah, back to me.
“Who,” she murmured, “are you?”
My muscles screamed. My right arm dangled uselessly at my side, and my left one was not strong enough to do the work of both, especially against a gods-damned vampire queen.
“Get over here!” Septimus bellowed behind me, and just as my arm was about to give out, I pushed violently against Oraya’s blade. Zefiah let out a burst of godlight, buying us precious seconds.
And then I was running, and Septimus grabbed my arm, and in a wild, chaotic tangle, we flung ourselves through the aethergate.
The last thing I saw as I looked back was the Nightborn queen diving after us, wings spread. Septimus hurled the Nightborn pendant, sending it bouncing pitifully against the stone, right as he pulled the passage closed.
Just like that, with seconds to spare, we were gone.