Chapter 12
12
M y heart slammed against my ribs as my head jerked toward the sound. Suddenly, Henry grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. My wide eyes met his as he leaned in, bringing his face mere inches from mine.
“Get down and hide,” he barked an order, his voice somehow even deeper than usual.
Letting go of me, he jumped on the narrow ridge with feline grace and took off in the direction of where the scream had come from.
He didn’t seriously expect me to run and hide?
Another scream tore through the night, this time to my right.
“A witch!” someone down the wall shouted, and I whirled toward the sound, looking frantically around.
A shadow moved on the wall, taking out guards one by one, their mangled bodies dropping into the darkness on the other side of the border.
I heard a commotion on the ground moments before dozens of fiery arrows lit up the night sky, climbing high in the air above the stone wall. They slammed into the tall grass on the other side, starting a fire that quickly spread along the entire length of the border.
I could see the witch more clearly now. The creature would appear out of nowhere, wrapped in smoke and shadows. She would deliver a deadly blow before disappearing into the thin air as if being sucked into the void, only to reappear several feet away in front of the next victim.
Instinctively, I pulled out my dagger but then sheathed it a second later. It wouldn’t do me any good. Henry had never gotten a chance to get me another weapon.
“Here!” a guard shouted from behind me, and when I spun, he threw a short sword my way.
I caught it and turned just in time to see another guard only a few feet away from me being torn to pieces by the witch.
The sight of the creature paralyzed me for a brief moment before my training kicked in. My muscles tensed as I assumed a fighting position, waiting for the witch to come for me. She didn’t make me wait long, appearing right before me out of the darkness. A bolt of cold terror shot through me as I lifted my sword.
The witch looked as they did in the paintings depicting the last battle of New Haven. Pitch-black eyes and skin so white, it was nearly translucent, marbled by black-blue veins. Her fingers were elongated into sharp claws that were dripping blood from the previous victim. The witch drew her arm back, preparing to attack, and I gritted my teeth, bracing for the coming onslaught. Suddenly, the witch cocked her head to the side, the movement rigid and unnatural as she sniffed the air, similar to how Henry had done earlier. Releasing a high-pitched shriek, she backed away and slithered down the stone wall to the guards below.
I didn’t have time to dwell on why the witch hadn’t attacked as screams of pain and terror erupted from the ground. Snapping into action, I raced down the cracked, uneven stone steps.
Several guards, including Waylon, were huddled together close to the wall, trying to fight the witch. I doubted they stood a chance against the creature. Still, I only hesitated for a moment before joining them, my sword raised. Even if the chances of survival were slim, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I especially couldn’t run and hide as Henry had ordered me to. I would fight, even if I fought to the death. It might very well come to that, I realized as my gaze darted around, following the moving shadow of the Dark Witch. Any time it drew near, I swung my sword, but the blade sliced through thin air. It felt like fighting smoke and shadows. The witch was using the same strategy on the ground as she had done on the top of the wall, taking the guards out one by one.
The number of men around me diminished quickly until only Waylon and I remained. We brought our backs together, our swords raised, waiting for the ambush. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an oily shadow dart toward us. The witch was coming. I braced myself, preparing for impact, but it never came because Henry appeared a few feet away from me. With a roar that raised the tiny hairs on my body, the Lord snatched the witch by the throat, yanking her out of the shadows. She hissed and clawed at his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. Moving incredibly fast, he slammed her into the stone wall of the border, that entire section trembling from the impact. Dark, inky blood rapidly pooled under the witch’s limp body, where Henry held her above the ground.
My stomach tumbled with relief, but it was short-lived as I saw another shadow rush out from the side, lurching toward Henry’s exposed back. There was another witch. Not a witch, a warlock, I realized as I watched him step out of the shadows right behind Henry. Time seemed to slow as the warlock raised his clawed hand high above his head, and a black lightning bolt appeared there. Without thinking, I sprinted forward and thrust my sword into the warlock’s back before jerking it out with a shout. The creature screeched and whirled on me, his cloak billowing out behind him.
Terror shot through me when I saw my reflection in the glossy black eyes. He was about to kill me. I knew it as sure as I knew my own name. If I died tonight, my only hope was that others would keep searching for the amulet because Dark Witches and vampires had to be destroyed. Gritting my teeth, I lifted my sword again, knowing full well it would do me no good. The warlock lunged at me, but before he could reach me, he jerked back as if being pulled by an invisible string. His mouth went slack, filling with black blood until it overflowed and spilled down his chin.
I was frozen in shock as my eyes slowly lowered to the warlock’s chest. Henry’s clawed hand was protruding from it, holding the warlock’s black heart that was spewing dark blood.
Abruptly, Henry snatched his hand back through the gaping hole in the warlock’s chest and tossed the creature’s heart to the side. It landed with a wet smack at the same time the warlock’s lifeless body dropped with a dull thud.
I stared at Henry with wide eyes. A movement behind him snagged my attention, and my mouth dropped open as I watched the other witch’s body slide out of the deep indentation in the border wall and crumple to the ground.
Lifting my head, I checked the wall for any more shadows, listening for any screams of pain or terror. When heavy silence settled over the border, a shuddering breath left me—the attack was over.
Slowly, my gaze returned to Henry. He stood under a beam of moonlight, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Dark blood smeared his defined features and matted his hair. One of his hands, the one that he’d used to rip out the warlock’s heart, was completely covered in black. The front of his leathers had been clawed, and I could see dark red blood gushing from the wounds.
“I told you to hide,” Henry growled, the sound deep and rough.
His stare was intense and unblinking as he looked at me. His eyes were so dark I could barely see any blue.
I swallowed hard, taking several steps back. The Lord looked a little crazed, like a Ravager lost in the frenzy of bloodlust. I wondered if fighting the witches had brought out that side of him—the wild, beastly side.
“Henry…” My voice shook as I uttered his name.
He stalked toward me, his chin lowered.
“You are so incredibly reckless. How am I supposed to keep you safe if you are bound and determined to put yourself in danger?” he seethed, quickly closing the short distance between us.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warned, even though I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him.
A growl of annoyance rumbled from Henry, jarring me into action. I turned to run but didn’t make it far before he caught my arm and spun me around, yanking me forward. He brought me flush with him, and my breath caught as I jerked my head back to look up at the Lord. Little remained of the Henry I’d dealt with in the past few days. He looked feral, a predator through and through. His lips peeled back to reveal the sharp fangs as a low hiss escaped him.
The dream I’d had last night floated up to the surface of my subconscious. Henry was seconds away from sinking his fangs into my neck like he’d done in my dream. He would bite me, and he would drink from me until the very last drop. Just like in my dream, a wave of shock rolled through me. I’d known all along he could not be trusted. My breath left me as I stared into Henry’s eyes—the eyes of a killer. Suddenly, a soft thud sounded, and Henry froze before letting go of me and slowly turning around. A knife protruded from his back, and when I peeked from behind him, I realized Waylon must have thrown it. He stood a few feet away, his eyes full of panic, but his features set in determination.
“You,” Henry snarled, and I knew I only had a few seconds before he went for Waylon’s throat.
I darted out from behind Henry and whirled around to face him, blocking Waylon from his view. Fisting his shirt, I hauled myself up to his hard, unyielding body and brought my face inches from his.
“Henry, please. You’re not yourself,” I begged, trying to draw his attention away from Waylon.
His black, bottomless eyes darted to me. We shared a breath before Henry grabbed my hair, where it was tied at the nape of my neck and jerked my head back and to the side. A sharp cry left me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the bite. I knew it would come at any second, and it wouldn’t be as clean and precise as the one on my wrist at the ball. It would be savage and overwhelming. Seconds ticked by, but the bite never came. Henry just held me there, his cool breath chilling my exposed neck. I heard him swallow and felt him shudder against me. What was he doing? Was he trying to tame his inner beast that had escaped?
With a rough exhale, he released me and backed away so suddenly I lost balance, nearly landing on the ground. Shame and sadness marked his features as the Lord stared at me. His eyes were slowly becoming bluer, letting me know he had regained some control. A significant amount of black still remained, and I realized he probably needed to feed after losing so much blood.
“Are you hurt?” Henry asked low, still looking at me.
“Do you mean, did you hurt me or the witches?” I snapped, unable to contain my simmering rage.
Even if he hadn’t been himself, that didn’t excuse his wild behavior. He could have hurt me or Waylon. He could’ve killed us because of his lack of self-control.
The Lord flinched at my words before saying, “I am sorry.”
He spoke very low so only I would hear, but Waylon still overheard. I glanced at him and saw his brows shoot up in shock. Henry, a vampire, had just apologized to me.
“I’m not hurt,” I said quietly, looking back at the Lord. He seemed genuinely concerned, and I wanted to put him at ease even if he didn’t deserve it.
“I came as fast as I could.” Isabelle’s voice rang out as she came striding to where we were standing. “I’ve heard there’s been an attack.”
“It’s over now,” Waylon said. “Lord Duval was able to fight them off.”
“You are injured,” Isabelle declared, quickly scanning Henry from head to toe.
“I need to feed,” was all he said, turning to leave. “Make sure Sophie gets home safely,” he threw over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.