Chapter 52
Fifty-Two
“Cally! Are you all right?” Gabe shook her shoulder.
She jerked back to consciousness, lying on the wooden floor, and he was kneeling beside her, concern in his eyes.
“Yes…” Antoine. “How long was I out?” She struggled up to sit against the wall, and that simple move took all her strength.
“I don’t know. The challenge has started. When I realized you weren’t there, I came looking.”
She reached out for his hand. “Get me to him, Gabe.”
“Can you walk?” he asked, pulling a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at the blood on her face.
“Doubt it.” She took it from him, finishing the task herself, the thin material soon stained red.
He didn’t waste any more time but slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her like she weighed nothing, and strode swiftly toward the stairs.
“How’s the fight going?”
“Badly,” he said, the word tight. Worry flickered in his eyes before he swallowed once and steadied himself.
“Then hurry, please.”
He took the stairs in a burst of vampiric speed, only slowing as he passed through a set of double doors into a room with stone walls and a low ceiling.
The assembly of vampires ringed the edges, watching with eerie quiet.
Pressed to Gabe’s chest, Cally had no view of what was happening.
The dull thuds of fists meeting flesh cut through the silence, accompanied by pained grunts.
“Put me down,” she said, twisting in Gabe’s arms.
He lowered her gently to her feet, and she clung to his arm for support. But now she could see, and one hand flew to her mouth in horror.
Both Roberto and Antoine fought bare-chested, the heavyset bulk of the older vampire contrasting with Antoine’s tautly defined muscles, but it was Antoine who was suffering.
Large bruises covered his upper body, red against his unnaturally pale skin, for he had dropped his usual glamour.
One eye was cut and swollen, blood running down his cheek, and his lip bled too, staining his teeth.
His left arm was only semi-raised, as though it were injured, and he swayed on his feet.
Roberto waited for him, large arms held out and ready, hardly a sign to suggest Antoine had done any damage at all. She couldn’t have been up there long, but the fight already looked over. Why hadn’t Antoine conceded already?
Belle stood nearby, observing impassively, and a short distance away, another vampire held Tobias’s chain. The solitary vampire who had dissented in the vote stood with her arms folded, watching coldly. Judging by the way she’d twitched when Cally had said her name, that was Lena.
Antoine moved to attack, trying to circle around Roberto. Despite his speed, Cally found she could track him better now, as though her eye had been trained to their inhuman motion, or maybe she had gained speed as well as strength. Not to his level, but enough to see the fight.
The strategy of both fighters was clear.
Roberto wanted to catch him, to crush him to his chest in a powerful grapple, bringing his prodigious strength to bear.
Antoine tried to use his greater speed to stay out of range, stepping in to land blows when he could.
But while Roberto was slower, it wasn’t by much.
In a blur of exchanged blows, Antoine danced to the side, trying for a punch into Roberto’s flank.
The older vampire didn’t bother to block; he simply backhanded an immense blow at Antoine’s head, who barely managed to duck beneath it.
Roberto’s other arm swung around, trying to grab him, even as Antoine’s fist struck Roberto’s side.
But Antoine was forced to pull back, and it took the power from his strike.
Roberto lumbered after him, far faster than any human, but still seeming sluggish in comparison to Antoine who circled again.
But Roberto’s eyes glinted as, with a burst of greater speed, he grabbed for Antoine’s injured left arm.
Antoine pulled it back, but took a blow to his shoulder for his trouble, the meaty smack melding with his hiss through clenched teeth, and he rolled with it, barely escaping Roberto’s follow-up.
The pattern was established, and it was only a matter of time.
Roberto was just too strong, too impervious.
And Antoine was too stubborn—he wasn’t going to concede.
Cally could see it in the grim determination in his features, and the hardness in his eyes.
He would fight until the end, which wasn’t far away.
That left only one choice.
My power. Send him my power.
“Tig an neart ó dhorchadas glé,” she began, muttering the spell under her breath as quietly as she could.
Yet still the vampires near her swung her way in curiosity.
“Ag cruinniú i gcroí, ag lasadh mé.” None of them tried to stop her, perhaps because they wanted her to help Antoine, or maybe they just thought her words were meaningless.
Gabe looked at her in surprise, then took a subtle pace forward, ready to protect her if needed.
Where our blood combines, send him my power.
“Mar shruth ó bhéal, mar lasair ó lár.” Like a stream from the mouth, a flame from the core. “Imíonn sé uaim, ag dul thar m’fhardo.” It leaves me behind, passing my threshold.
That was it. The spell was done. And nothing had happened.
Cally’s focus wavered, her horror mounting as Antoine took another blow, his head snapping to the side as blood sprayed from his mouth. This had been her last hope. She’d done everything right—the sharing of blood, the mark, the Gaeilge—yet still it had failed.
“Tig an neart ó dhorchadas glé.” In desperation, she began again, not knowing what else to do.
Her eyes blurred with tears at the sight of him staggering under another blow, blood streaking from a cut by his eye, swollen and half closed.
She mentally screamed her intent toward him.
Give him all my power! I want him to have all my power! “Ag cruinniú—”
In a rushing torrent, her essence erupted from her chest. Her spine arched as her head flung back, mouth open in a silent scream, her arms stretched wide as every muscle snapped taut, and the force of it lifted her to her toes, feet barely scraping at the stone floor.
It was as if an unseen force sucked her very self from within her, blasting it outward.
Her fingers clawed at the air, her heart thumped with every pulse of energy, and somewhere close, Gabe muttered a shocked curse.
Her limbs trembled and her heart faltered, stuttering between beats, yet still her power pushed from her. Across the room, Antoine cried out, not in pain or terror but with a shout of surprise, his voice strong and reverberating through the chamber.
It was her only comfort. Still the power bled from her, and her vision grayed around the edges, the light fading.
“Kill the witch!” Roberto yelled.
Cally would’ve laughed bitterly if she could. You don’t need to bother. The drain of her life force was killing her, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
Are you giving up? Try, damn it! Where’s that fighting spirit?
She was almost too weak. It took all she had left to focus her intent: Stop. That’s enough. No more.
With the suddenness of power cut with the flick of a switch, it ended. She sagged, her knees buckling, and would have fallen if Gabe hadn’t caught her from behind, his arms around her waist. She slumped in his grip, exhausted, and it was a struggle to lift her head and open her eyes.
In those brief moments, the room had changed significantly. All the vampires nearby had drawn back, staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Roberto and Antoine had stopped fighting and leaped apart. Roberto’s face was red with fury, while Antoine’s reflected his love and pride for her. His bruises had faded, as though his skin had never been marred, only the blood on his lip and one cheek as evidence he’d ever been hurt.
To one side, Tobias strained against his chains, arms still pinned but trying to reach her with his fangs out, eyes malevolent in his single-minded purpose.
The vampire holding him back struggled, until another stepped forward and struck Tobias a blow to his temple.
He slumped against his bindings and went still.
Nearby, Belle held a struggling Lena with one hand, her clothing ripping as she strained to reach Cally, until a stunningly beautiful vampire stepped forward and drove the edge of her hand into Lena’s neck. The crack was sharp and brutal, and Lena fell to the ground as Belle released her.
The vampire exchanged an impassive look with Belle, one thin eyebrow arched, then turned to the room. “We all bear witness,” she said clearly. “Roberto attempted to use both Tobias and Lena to interfere.”
“Interfere?” Roberto echoed in outrage. “You accuse me of interference, while this witch casts her spells on my opponent?” His hand flung out toward Cally, one finger extended in accusation.
“Fuck you, Roberto,” Cally replied, her voice stronger than she expected.
“You tried to claim me. This is my right of revenge.” The silence that met this declaration was almost perfect, save for the faint choking noise as Roberto tried to speak through his rage.
But Cally hadn’t finished. She drew herself up, grasping at all the strength she had left to stand alone, and Gabe released her carefully and stepped back.
She lifted her chin, and met the eyes of her beloved across the room.
“I am Antoine’s bonded, and we fight together. ”
“Fatum coniunctum,” Belle said. “A shared fate.” She pursed her lips in a show of considering it. “There is precedent. It is allowed.”
“Then let us finish this,” Antoine said, drawing Roberto’s attention back to him. “Come, Roberto. I have accepted your challenge. Fight or concede, but either way, you will be entombed this night.”