Santino looked up as my head came to rest, and our eyes met.
Oh, shit!
A rush of fear took over. I’d been ignored up to this point. Now Santino knew I was alive.
Santino grabbed his large knife and cut into Kallisto’s neck, sawing it down to the bone. Seconds later, a loud crack sounded as he snapped the neck with his hands.
A chill went down my spine. I knew that was the final blow. What little blood there was dripped down to the floor as he finished slicing the last strings of flesh attaching her head to her neck.
The sweet smell of blood permeated the air, reminding me of my thirst. Small droplets of blood dripped from the severed head as Santino held it up. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled something in Latin, before tossing the head into the living room fireplace.
Sounds of struggle could still be heard outside of the house. I wondered what had happened to Edmond, if he had attempted an escape or if he was trying to locate reinforcements.
Santino stood and walked to the fireplace. A small metal key jutted out from the wall. He turned it and a faint hissing came from within the wall. Santino mumbled again under his breath. His hand searched the surrounding wall until he found a light switch and flipped it up. Flames quickly erupted in the fireplace. The burning smell of hair and flesh immediately attacked my senses. The fire quickly engulfed the severed head. Kallisto was no more.
Santino grunted and looked over his shoulder at me.
CHAPTER 24
* * * * *
Paralyzed, I was an easy target. Santino turned and took a step towards me.
If I could have screamed, I would have, but I made no more than a whimper.
“Looks like someone got to you first,” he said in a low voice.
I couldn’t answer. I was weak; my heart couldn’t even beat to match the fear I felt. I whimpered.
Please, no! Leave me alone. Go after Edmond
.
He grabbed my head, moving it from side to side, examining my wounded neck.
A man yelled outside, and the sounds of fighting suddenly stopped. Santino arched his eyebrow and turned to look over his shoulder. Silence surrounded us, and after a minute, he returned his attention to me.
“Not going to be much of a fight, are you?” he asked, grabbing his large knife again. Blood coated it from his recent kill. Kallisto’s blood. I caught the scent of it. My body cried out for it. I needed blood. I needed to live. I needed to get out of this mess.
The sound of Kallisto’s neck cracking and popping as Santino snapped it echoed in my ears. I knew those sounds would soon be coming from me if I didn’t somehow move.
Santino’s eyes closed. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled a prayer.
I called forth all the strength and energy I could muster.
One final time, I willed my muscles to listen.
Move
, I yelled in my head.
Move, damn it!
But my body would not respond. I had nothing left. There would be no escape.
Santino’s eyes opened. He stared down at me with disgust, as if I were a mangy animal and it was beneath him to have to put me down. His lip curled into a sneer. I shuddered beneath him. His gaze sent shivers down my spine. I knew death was imminent.
He breathed a deep, growling breath and placed the blade to my neck. I felt its deadly weight and sharpness.
“Santino!” a man shouted from the broken window.
I recognized this voice and the warm feeling that accompanied it.
Santino turned to view this new interruption. Reaching down, he put his hands into his pockets and pulled out a small remote. Pressing it, he dropped it to the ground. It flashed back and forth from red to green, emitting no sound as it fell out of my view.
Though his body blocked most of my view, I could make out two figures standing in the window. One of the figures, a man, was struggling.
“Let me go,” he shrieked.
Santino took a few steps closer to the pair, and as he moved out of my view I saw Lysander, Edmond, and the Peregrinus Clan at the window.
A brief feeling of relief washed over me.
“What is this?” Santino asked. “You all come willingly to repent and meet your God?”
Lysander held Edmond firmly by the arm. He stepped inside the house, pulling Edmond with him. Glass crunched under his feet. The sound was music to my ears. Surely the Peregrinus and Lysander could take on Santino, and we would all be safe.
“Still Rome’s lapdog, are we, Santino?” Lysander growled.
I was never more happy to see a man’s face than I was at that moment. Lysander looked so strong, so masculine, so powerful, standing there in front of Santino.
Lysander shoved Edmond forward, sending him crashing to the floor. He turned as if looking for an exit, but the Peregrinus clan blocked his escape. They quickly followed through the broken window. Edmond frantically scanned the room, probably looking for some way out.
As Kallisto’s decapitated body came into his view, a look of horror crossed Edmond’s face. He fell to his knees, grasping the lifeless hand of his former mistress.
“Kallisto, no!” he screamed.
Santino paid no attention to Edmond. “Lysander, it’s been a long time,” he said. “I knew I would find you again. Please, regale me with some witty insight. Make me see the light, as you like to say. Tell me why I should let you and your kind live.”
Lysander stepped forward. “My kind? You seem to forget, Santino: you are one of us too.”
“You will have to do better than that,” Santino snapped.
“Just remember, Santino, Rome condemns us all.” Lysander continued to slowly step closer to Santino. His face was hard and stern as he prepared for battle.
“I have no worries about my afterlife. It is you who should be considering yours, and you will meet it quite soon.” Santino stood his ground.
Lysander stopped a few inches away from him. “Do you think when you finish your mission—destroying us all—they will grant you some heavenly pardon?”
The Peregrinus watched in silence, waiting for some cue to make a move.
“My place in heaven is already secure. Worry about your own afterlife,” said Santino.
“Your guarantee to heaven is determined by whom, Santino? Some Pope who died centuries ago?”
“I do God’s work. I have no fear of meeting him and accepting his praise when I am done.”
“You are no different than I, Santino. You think killing immortals makes you better than killing a mortal? You still end life, and your Church, no matter what they tell you, won’t condone that.”
“I destroy evil,” Santino said coldly, the first hint of emotion I had seen from him.
“I know the commandments you are supposed to abide by. There is no fine print in ‘Thou shall not kill.’ Go on and maintain that holier-than-thou attitude. When it is all over, I’ll still see you in Hell, if that’s where we are meant to go.”
Santino sneered, his lip rising to reveal his fangs. “At least I’ll have the pleasure of knowing you are there waiting to greet me.”
They stared at one another, each seeming to mentally size up his opponent. The air remained still in the house. Everyone waited for the first move to be made.
It seemed as if they were locked in a stalemate, neither one making the first move to attack the other. They continued their posturing, staring into one another’s eyes and scowling.
Something was wrong, I sensed. Santino was taking too long to make a move. What was he waiting for?
Lysander’s gaze shifted quickly from Santino to me.
Save yourself. Something isn’t right
.
His eyes narrowed in anger, then suddenly softened. I saw a hint of worry there.
Santino took the opportunity and lunged forward. Lysander fell to the ground with Santino on top of him.
“No, Lysander!” I moaned through motionless lips. A blurry mass of bodies wrestled on the ground in front of me. Santino let out a yelp. His body flew across the room.
He recovered as soon as he crashed to the ground. “You will have to do better than that, monster,” he snarled at Lysander.
“You are as much a monster as I am, Santino.” He shifted his gaze to one of the clan. “Get Alyssa out of here,” he yelled.
A strange noise came from outside of the house. I could make out the sounds of someone else approaching. A shadow moved around the window where Damon stood guard. Some of the others must have heard the noise, too. Crystal turned just in time to see Damon’s face grimace as a ball of flame shot through the broken window and enveloped him. The heat of the fireball filled the living room as Damon’s clothing began to burn. He turned towards the window and another fireball blasted through it.
Damon screamed in pain, falling to the floor as the flames engulfed him.
The clan members scattered to avoid the fire.
Panic struck me. I realized that a second wave of the Acta Sanctorum had arrived.
That must have been what Santino had been waiting for.
Damon’s screams filled the room as he rolled on the ground. Unfortunately, there was no saving him.
The carpet caught fire, and it quickly spread around the room.
More flames shot through the front window, igniting the furniture: chairs, tables, and cabinets all blackened as they burned. The Peregrinus took cover, avoiding the blaze and trying to find a way out of the burning building.
Santino laughed as the flames encircled Lysander and himself. “There is no escape, Lysander. Welcome your death.”
“Only if you come with me.” Lysander’s fists moved at blurring speed as they made contact with Santino’s face. He pummeled Santino with a fierceness I had never witnessed in him before. Reflections of the flames glinted in his eyes. Santino looked as if he would be defeated, but in a move faster than my eyes could comprehend, he spun out of the way and delivered a blow to Lysander’s side.
He fell with a loud crash out of my view.
Oh, no. Get up, Lysander. Get up!
The lifeless body of Kallisto began to singe and burn. The gross stench of burning flesh filled my nose.
Flames crawled up the side of the couch, and I felt the heat warming my skin. Being burned alive wasn’t the way I had wanted to die. I didn’t want to endure the slow death from the fire.
Lysander was up again, holding a flaming piece of broken chair. He flung it across the room, and it smashed into pieces against Santino’s body.
Bone-chilling laughter erupted from Santino. “Is that the best you’ve got? I’m surprised. I expected more from an ancient like you. But I guess you are all soft like Kallisto.”
Lysander growled, teeth bared, hatred painted over his face. He moved in a blur. His fists collided with Santino’s face.
Santino groaned, but didn’t fall. He smiled wickedly and pulled his large knife from its sheath. Lunging forward, he plunged it straight into Lysander’s chest. A dull thud sounded as they both collapsed onto the floor.
Oh, shit, Lysander
. I struggled but couldn’t do more than wiggle; my body was still paralyzed.
No, Lysander. You can’t die.
A hand grabbed hold of my arm. My world turned upside down as I was lifted into the air and tossed over someone’s shoulder. My still body hung limply. Flames licked my face from the ground and singed the ends of my hair. Someone was carrying me out.
No, we have to go back and save him!
My savior flung me off of his shoulders to the ground. I landed hard on the grassy lawn.
Edmond? I focused on his face, shocked that he, of all people, would risk his life to save me from the fire.
He knelt down beside me and bit his wrist.
“Drink!” he ordered.
He parted my lips and held his bleeding wrist over my mouth. Warm, thick blood drizzled down into my throat. The sweet, honey-like taste awakened my senses. My limbs reanimated, and I was quickly able to raise them and hold Edmond’s wrist to my mouth. I greedily sucked, pulling the saving blood from the wound, swallowing huge gulps.
Edmond moaned in pain, but he allowed me to drink in my fill. He made no motion to stop me, even though I was draining him of his life. His arm went limp in my hands. I released him and he collapsed to the ground.
“Why did you save me?”
Edmond’s eyes appeared sunken and bruised, the white of his face exaggerated; hints of the veins underneath his skin had become more pronounced. I knew I had taken more blood from him than I should have.
“Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I have been a monster.”
“I can’t do that. Your fight is with Lysander. Only he can pass judgment on you.”
I saw fear in his eyes as he lay weakly before me on the ground. I didn’t quite know how to feel. He had saved me from the fire and from the Saints at the penthouse, but he had condemned my Lysander in the process. I pushed myself up, standing to survey the area. It felt good to have control of my limbs again.
Sounds of the struggle with the Saints filled my ears. Looking around, I spied Crystal feeding from a motionless figure lying on the ground. I searched the grounds. A small flame could be seen at the end of a strange weapon lying a few feet from where I was standing.
A flame thrower: perfect. These Saints really know how to choose a weapon.
I saw Nicholas locked in a battle with another figure, who appeared to be an immortal like us. I assumed he was one of Santino’s children, another Saint. Nicholas knocked the man to the ground and lunged at his neck.
Thank goodness the Peregrinus have things under control
.
I couldn’t see Rozaline or Drew. Thick, acrid smoke filled the air around us. The house was quickly succumbing to the flames.
I moved to get the abandoned weapon, but Edmond grabbed my arm.
“No, you mustn’t,” he cautioned. “You’re not strong enough.”
“I won’t leave my friends,” I yelled, jerking my arm out of his weak grasp. “I’m not going to let them die.”
I ran to pick up the gun-like weapon and spotted Rozaline. A man had her pinned and appeared to be bending down to her neck. She writhed beneath him, struggling to get free.
I grabbed the flamethrower and slung the backpack over my shoulder. Yelling for Rozaline to stay still, I caught the attention of her attacker. He briefly looked at me as I pulled the trigger on the gun. A stream of fire shot right at his head. He fell away from her, screeching and flailing, trying to extinguish the flames.