NINE
The road is quiet and free of other travelers, much to my relief. I suppose I have the ungodly hour to thank for that. The path twists this way and that, becoming more rugged as we proceed into a patch of woodlands that thicken on either side of us.
I insist that we stray for a moment when I hear a trickle of water. It isn’t long before we find a creek winding between the trees—an opportunity to let the horses have a drink before our last stretch into the next village.
“We only have four hours of moonlight left,” Dante says tersely, pacing back and forth between the trees while the horses have their fill. “We’ll need a roof over our heads for the day. Welcome to nocturnal life.” He smiles sharply as though any discomfort I might feel will alleviate his own.
With a shrug, I run a hand along my horse’s flank. “I’ll adjust. I’ve practiced a nocturnal schedule for weeks on end many times. In order to fight creatures of the night, one must familiarize herself with darkness. Know thine enemy and all.”
An equally wicked smirk tugs up the corners of my lips, and he rolls his eyes. “A perfect little student, are you?” he drawls. “I don’t suppose you’ll be shutting up about that in a hurry.”
On the other side of the creek, a shiver in the underbrush interrupts my retort. I tense and search for the disturbance, trying to calm myself. Of course there are animals in the woods. No need to make a fuss. We’ll be on our way shortly.
But my stomach drops when I hear Dante’s sharp intake of breath. His head snaps in the direction of the sound.
A hulking figure lumbers from between the bushes. Recognition catches up with the fear drenching me—an enormous brown bear is snuffling at the creek bed directly across from us.
“Shit,” Dante mutters. He seems to have the same idea as me—backing away slowly and reaching for the dagger sheathed on his belt. I hold onto a tiny seed of hope that the beast will move on, more interested in foraging than perceiving us as threats.
“Talk it down,” I hiss. “Sway it to leave peacefully.”
Dante’s eyes cut toward me and narrow—affronted that I know another one of his kin’s tricks. Even fledging vampires have the capacity to sway simple animal minds, typically rodents or even wolves.
“I can’t,” he grits.
“You’re joking. Is there anything you can do?”
“Rip you open and offer to share you with our friend here, perhaps.” He huffs at my enraged scowl. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m malnourished. I could barely keep you asleep for a few minutes. And even on my best day, puppeteering a rat is a bit different than a fucking bear.”
The bear raises its nose from the ground, sniffing curiously in our direction. Its front paws tread slowly into the water. Perhaps it would have lost interest—if it weren’t for the skittishness of horses.
The beast’s approaching presence is finally too much for them. My horse gives a frightened whinny and bolts, nearly trampling me in the process, and Dante’s is startled into following suit.
“Move!” Dante shouts as the bear snaps out of its indecision and charges across the water. The loping splashes seem to echo through the entire forest, mingling with its roar.
The two of us split apart. The bear swerves toward Dante with incredible speed, perhaps sensing that he’s more of a threat.
Try as he might to get out of the way, Dante can’t dodge in time before the beast lands two devastating swipes upon him.
His doublet is shredded, the flesh beneath bursting with blood.
An ordinary man wouldn’t have recovered, but even after he’s been bowled to the ground, Dante still has the strength to scramble upright, cursing all the while.
Stopping several meters away, I pull my skirt up hastily and knot the fabric at my side, freeing my legs to run properly.
As the bear lunges for another attack, Dante manages to stagger aside and drive the pommel of his blade into the bear’s stomach.
The beast is thrown back—barely. My heart stammers.
I would have expected more from a vampire’s strength, but Dante’s injury isn’t doing him any favors.
He can’t do this alone. The opportunity to spare the creature is long gone.
I withdraw a small crossbow affixed to the inside of my skirt.
The bear is recovering quickly, angrier than ever.
Despite everything, my breathing is steady—this adrenaline is my drug of choice.
I load a bolt into the crossbow, take aim, and fire.
There’s a short whistle as it flies, punctuated by the bear’s snarl as the point buries itself into its shoulder.
Those dark, furious eyes turn toward me.
The beast’s roar rattles through me as it lopes in my direction—unstoppable.
I hurriedly load another bolt, determined to pierce it between the eyes.
A blur of movement intersects with the juggernaut of fur racing toward me.
Dante moves fast—almost too fast to track.
He slams his shoulder into the bear, knocking it off course.
It staggers, and he thrusts his dagger deep into its side.
The growl morphs into a howl of agony. That had nearly been a fatal stroke, blood gushing from the wound like a tap had been opened.
Blade now crimson to the hilt, Dante dives for another blow—but this is no meager prey.
It’s a positively massive creature, majestic if not for our lives hanging in the balance.
The bear lowers its head and throws its full weight into Dante, throwing him across the clearing into a cypress tree.
The deafening CRACK of the impact makes me think the trunk might have splintered.
The bear prowls toward Dante, its pace now measured, like it knows its attack will outpace his recovery, still prone on the ground with the breath knocked from his lungs. Its focus on him is the advantage I need.
Spotting footholds in a nearby tree, I bolt.
Instinct takes hold, my senses sharpening, world narrowing to tactical vantage points.
I let my crossbow drop to the ground as I scramble up the tree, hands and knees scraping along rough bark.
I take position on an overhanging branch, digging under my skirt for the long, serrated dagger I’d holstered to my thigh.
I curse at the clasp that secures it, nearly tearing the leather strap right off my leg in my haste.
Then, when the bear is positioned beneath me, I leap.
My primal scream unites with its snarl as I struggle to stay seated on its wide back, arms wrapped around its neck. It bucks—but my blade is already sawing at its throat, severing precious arteries over and over. Hot blood spills over my hands, splatters my face. I’m sorry, I want to tell it.
I keep going until I feel a shift. It’s not long before its violent movements slow. The bear teeters, rasping, before collapsing onto its side.
Silence crackles across the woods, and I allow myself to slump forward, choking down a sob of relief.
Not my usual quarry, and under other circumstances, not one I’d ever pursue.
I hurriedly dismount, wiping my blade on my gown to clean it.
My heart is sorrowful for the creature as I look down at it—massive, even sprawled on its side in utter stillness—and I say a brief prayer for taking its life before I look over to Dante.
He’s groaning, pushing himself up onto his elbows in the dirt. I stand before him, and he stops moving. His eyes narrow slightly on the dagger still clutched in my right hand, blood soaking through the bodice of my gown, dripping down my arms in thick rivulets.
I consider it—killing him here and now. He’s still sprawled out in the dirt, weakened, leaving me with the upper hand for the first time thus far.
We stare at each other. He’s bracing for another fight—one he doesn’t want.
No. I will patiently wait for a bigger prize.
I shove my dagger back into its concealed sheath and extend a hand to Dante instead. After a beat, he accepts, clasping my hand. I dig my heels in and haul him to his feet, staggering back a step. The sudden momentum nearly throws me off balance, leaving us startlingly close.
I find myself staring at Dante’s collarbone until I lift my eyes.
His head is bent, our faces so close that our ragged breathing mingles, cutting the silence.
There may as well be roots winding around my calves, keeping me anchored where I stand.
The smell of sweat and blood on us both fills my nose—a bouquet that sings to the adrenaline still making my pulse race.
His dark blue eyes are half-shuttered, studying me—then flicker to my lips. My eyes drop to his, too. Such pretty, lonely lips. For a fleeting moment, I think he might lean in—or perhaps we’re both still unsteady on our feet.
I suddenly become aware of my hand still white-knuckling his. I drop it like I’m gripping a fire iron and step back.
“We need to fetch the horses,” I announce.
I march across the clearing to retrieve my crossbow, stowing it safely in the pocket sewn into my skirt. As I tug the knot of fabric loose from my hip and let it fall back into place, I wonder if even the most thorough cleaning with lye and verjuice could save this poor gown.
Dante gathers up his dagger, too, wiping it clean on the bear’s back.
“Damnable waste of a good meal,” he sighs. “I can’t indulge even a sip now that it’s dead.”
Blood is puddled on the ground around him, enough to satisfy any vampire for days—all of it now poison to him.
Dead man’s blood is a more covert way to kill vampires, requiring subterfuge and intimate access, but it is viscerally effective when done properly.
Cursed to drain only the living, a hidden supply of dead man’s blood would kill them through their own fathomless hunger.
“Of course you’re thinking of your appetite again already,” I say under my breath. I start into the thicket, where I can hear our horses trampling the brush in the distance.
“Not the post-nuptial exertion I’m sure you were anticipating,” he calls, starting after me with long strides.
This gets a small snort out of me. “No, shockingly.”