Chapter 27 - Ameera
27
AMEERA
I pace across Anson’s office at Haven Hall, my nerves a jumbled mess as my hand strays yet again to the butt of the pistol at my hip. I told Anson last night that patience comes with age, but apparently I lose all semblance of it when the life of the man I love and our future together are in jeopardy. I know it’s too soon for the Executor to arrive and I’m in no hurry to fight her by myself, but waiting here while worrying about Anson is draining my patience dry.
“I’m sure Hale will be along soon enough,” Lucian says from behind Anson’s desk, his voice lacking any inflection as usual. “I’m not sure what all this pacing is going to accomplish.”
I stop and whirl on him with a forbidding glare, fighting the urge to draw my gun and shoot him in the face. “It’s keeping me from executing any of my loyal subjects who’ve gotten far too familiar with me.”
Lucian blanches at my comment and looks down at the desk. “My apologies, Mistress,” he says. “I was merely going to suggest that-”
“Well, I suggest you keep your bloody mouth shut,” Samuel cuts in from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, scowling at Lucian. He glances at me, his hand resting on his gun now. “Why is he here again?”
“To fill a temporary position that won’t be his much longer,” I say, arching a brow at Lucian as I say it.
Lucian glances up at me with a brief yet heated glare before averting his eyes, but he’s wise enough to keep his mouth shut this time. He was the most expedient option for running Haven Hall in Anson’s absence, but I’m regretting it now. If Anson feels up to returning to work, I’m planning on ending his time here tonight. If I don’t end his life first.
I glance at Logan Rourke, who arrived alone a few minutes after I did, scowling at being blackmailed into being here. Right now, he’s sprawled out on one of the sofas in the nearby sitting area like he owns the place, smirking at the interaction I just had with Lucian. It pisses me off.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?” I ask with an arched brow, not caring that I’m being a catty bitch with the local pack Alpha.
He lifts his hands in a placating gesture, though his smirk remains. “I’m just here to observe.”
I’m just about to tell him what he can do with that bloody infuriating smirk of his when I hear Harrison coming down the hall. I stifle whatever rude things I was about to say and wait for him to appear in the doorway next to Samuel a moment later.
“The Executor is here, ma’am,” he says. “Shall I let her in?”
Samuel’s scowl deepens. “She’s early,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I say we let her stand outside and sweat it out until the last bloody minute.”
Somehow I doubt vampire-kind’s most notorious killer is going to be rattled by being forced to wait outside. “Bring her to the main room of the club to wait,” I tell Harrison. “We’ll be out in time for the challenge.”
Harrison nods and hurries away. I may not be petty enough to leave her waiting outside, but I won’t stand around and chat with her while I wait, either. Besides, I’m waiting near the side door Anson normally uses, so we can greet her as a united front… if he gets here. When, damn it, not if.
My fear for Anson threatens to drag me down the rabbit hole of my vampiric emotions again, but I take a breath and focus on my control. I’m no use to anyone if I lose my head right now. I get a grip on myself, then start pacing again because I fear I’ll lose my composure all over again if I don’t keep moving. I ignore Logan, who wisely keeps his big mouth shut, and pretend he’s not here to keep my sanity from fraying anymore than it already has tonight.
Time passes and midnight creeps closer and closer, and still Anson hasn’t arrived. I stop my frantic pacing long enough to check my phone and I haven’t missed any calls or texts. I’d call or text him, but I don’t want to distract him if he’s busy with the spell. What’s keeping him? Did something go wrong? I try to ignore the increasing sense of dread that overtakes me with each passing moment until midnight arrives and he’s still not here.
“Ameera Fatali!” a female voice calls out from the direction of the main room, and the blood in my veins turns to ice. “The challenge is nigh! Either face me now or forfeit your domain.”
Bloody hell. I can’t put this off, and forfeiting this city isn’t an option either. Anson and I would be banished from Unity and forced to skulk in the shadows for the rest of our days, branded cowards with a price on our heads by the Mari Mae?tri. We’d lose everything we worked so hard for here in Unity and we wouldn’t last long afterwards, either.
I glance at Samuel, who looks stricken, and nod. Then I move to the doorway, unholster my pistol, and hand it to my progeny along with my phone before heading toward my doom. Logan follows us out of the room, a silent and imposing shadow at our backs. I’m unsurprised when Lucian comes along too, but I allow it since his presence will make little difference to the proceedings, except maybe entertain the nosy bastard.
I step out into the expansive club, empty save for Harrison standing by the bar and the Executor waiting for me in the center of the room under the glaring house lights. I instructed Lucian to close the club for the night, siting some sort of electrical problem to keep the employees from asking questions. She’s dressed the same as when she showed up at my door the other night, in black leather armor with gleaming chain mail beneath, and a sword at her hip. Her pale blond hair is braided back from her face in an even more intricate design this time. Plus, she’s applied a swath of sooty makeup across her pale gray eyes, lending the already terrifying vampire an even more menacing appearance.
I meet her gaze as I approach and extend my glamour, hoping against hope that it will work on the ancient and powerful vampire. I’m unsurprised, yet still disappointed, when it has no effect on her.
Well, it was worth a try.
She narrows her eyes at Logan and frowns. “Why is this animal here?”
Logan growls under his breath and his eyes flash aquamarine with his wolf, but he remains where he’s at with his arms crossed over his massive chest. I’m beyond grateful he’s not a hothead like some alphas are.
“I invited the Unity Pack Alpha as an impartial witness,” I reply.
She glares at Logan for a long moment, then nods. “So be it.” Then she glances at me and frowns as she rests a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Where is your consort?”
“He’s been… detained,” I say as I stop a few yards away from her, keeping my answer vague to stall for more time.
Her frown deepens, and I swear her face falls into what I can only describe as disappointment. “How unfortunate,” she says, in that lilting Nordic accent of hers. “But the challenge cannot be delayed. Should he arrive before I’m finished, he’s more than welcome to join the fight. And if he doesn’t? Well then, I shall take great joy in hunting him down personally after I defeat you.”
I’d be annoyed if anyone else was so confident of their victory over me, but all I feel is fear and the certainty that she’s right. But damn it, if I’m going to die tonight, then I’m going to give it my all to the bitter end. I owe Anson and myself that much.
I reach over my shoulder and unsheathe my sword, the well-worn leather grip familiar in my hand as I pull it free. The Executor grins and pulls her long broadsword from its scabbard and whirls it around in the air with a well-practiced spin of her wrist. Then, without another word, she comes at me.
Our first clash is quick and explosive, a volley of clashing swords as I deflect each strike she throws at me before we part to circle one another. Bloody hell, I can’t believe how fast she is, and it only serves to rattle my nerves.
“Your sire trained you well, Ameera,” she says with a nod of approval. “Perhaps this will be a challenge after all.”
I may not have touched a sword for quite some time, but vampires never lose a physical skill they learn, even if decades or centuries pass. Aydin taught me how to use a sword not long after I was turned. My sire was a colonel in the Ottoman Empire’s army and an expert with the slightly curved Turkish blades they used, just like mine. He died during the siege of Constantinople in the mid-fifteenth century before being turned into a vampire himself. I was trained by one of the best and I pray it’s enough to give me a chance of holding my own until Anson gets here. He will get here. I have to believe that or all hope is lost.
Emboldened by her praise, I go on the offense and attack her next, our swords a flurry of movement as she blocks each of my strokes. The clang of metal on metal echoes around the cavernous room as we move across the hardwood floor until we break apart once more. We circle again and the Executor’s wild eyes and maniacal smile are macabre and disturbing. I’m reminded of the savage stories of the berserker Vikings I’ve read about in history books.
She comes at me again, and once more I barely block or evade each swing of her sword. She laughs as she breaks off her attack, her expression downright exhilarated now, and I’m starting to suspect that she’s toying with me. But if it gains me more time, then so be it.
We charge forward at the same time and our engagement is prolonged this time as we exchange blows back and forth. I do my best to block her, but this time one of them gets through, bloodying my left forearm. I could’ve added some armor to my arms, but I feared it would impede me. I’m regretting that decision right now, as blood drips from my fingers onto the wood floor before the wound closes. But I don’t have time to fret about it as I block my opponent’s next flurry of attacks. This time it ends with a slash to my right shoulder that knocks me off balance, and I stagger away as warm blood drips down my arm before it too heals. So far she’s tagged me twice and I haven’t even come close to nicking her with my blade. Bloody hell, I am so fucked right now.
She presses forward before I can recover. It’s all I can do to defend myself long enough to put some distance between us, but when I do, I’m sporting a shallow wound on my right upper thigh just above the body armor there. I’m unsurprised by how unerring her aim was when she tagged me. If she had struck deeper, she could’ve crippled me long enough to end this fight, but she didn’t. It only reiterates the fact that she’s fucking with me, and it enrages me. I snarl and surge forward, swinging my sword at her head and coming within inches of her face as she dances away.
“Yes,” she says in approval. “That’s it. Use that rage.”
She wants me to use my rage? Well, I’ll show her just how fucking pissed off I am right now. I snarl even louder and lunge forward, slashing at her chest, but she deflects it with casual ease, grinning the whole time, then repeats my move and only the body armor over my chest keeps me from being flayed open. I stagger back out of her reach and clutch at my chest, half afraid I’ll find a massive bleeding wound there despite my armor. As it is, there’s a deep gouge in the armored panel of my vest.
The Executor nods and motions me toward her. “Come on,” she says. “More.”
I narrow my eyes, realizing I’m letting her goad me into being reckless. I won’t last long if I keep that up, so this time I keep my head as I charge forward. I feign another head-on attack, but this time I sidestep at the last moment and strike with lightning speed. I don’t know who’s more shocked, her or me, when my blade cuts into her upper arm just below where the chain mail ends. I step out of her reach and gape at her bleeding wound.
She glances down at it herself, her eyes wide with shock before she looks at me again, the crazed grin that was on her face earlier long gone now. If I thought she looked frightening before, then I was dead wrong, because the cool and emotionless expression she’s wearing now as she assesses me is absolutely terrifying.
She narrows her eyes and a different smile creeps across her lips, this one cunning and deadly. “Now,” she says with an eager glint in her eyes, “this is a worthy fight.”
She comes at me again, her sword a blur this time, and only my ingrained skill keeps me from being cut to ribbons in mere seconds. When we break apart, I haven’t even touched her. Yet I have multiple bloody wounds, including one deep slash across my lower abdomen below my armored vest that bleeds heavily and heals far slower than the other flesh wounds about my body. The blood loss, along with the energy I’m expending to heal, is getting to me, though it isn’t affecting me like it would a human. It leaches my aura of energy, slowing my healing and my reflexes, and the only way to replenish the loss is to feed, which I can’t do right now. My limbs feel heavy and my heart is slowing. If I lose much more blood, it will stop altogether and I’ll be next to useless for the rest of this fight. I’m running out of time, and if I have any chance of winning, it’s now or never.
I focus my will and dart forward, my sword swinging like an extension of my hand. I penetrate her guard and tag her twice. But before I can disengage, her weapon finds its mark on my right thigh and left hip, both deep agonizing wounds. Then, with a practiced spin of her wrist, she disarms me, sending my sword flying and clattering to the floor several yards away. She presses the tip of her blade against the center of my damaged vest and charges forward, forcing me to scuttle backwards to keep from being impaled until my back slams against the bar. My legs shake, threatening to give out from under me as my boots slide in the blood slicking the floor beneath me. But I refuse to die on the floor at anyone’s feet and somehow find the strength to stay upright as I face my foe.
“How very disappointing,” she says as a deep sorrow floods her eyes. “I’d hoped you’d be the one to defeat me and finally put an end to this unending existence that I’ve grown so very weary of.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just glare at her, wondering if I would’ve ever gotten to the point where I wouldn’t want my life as a vampire anymore. I guess I’ll never know.
She pulls the tip of her sword away from my chest and swings it back with a two handed grip, her sad eyes never leaving mine. I hope I see you again in the afterlife, zem?r. Then I lift my chin, defiant to the end, as the blur of her sword slices through the air toward my neck.