Reaper's Dark Kiss (28 page)

Tell Julian to come armed in his honor.

“The gardens,” Julian said and turned to Harli. “You—”

“I’m going,” Harli said, not quite looking at his guardian. “You can tell me not to if you want, but I’m going with you, Julian. And I’ll fight for you. I don’t care what Marek does to me.”

“Don’t make a mess in the gardens,” Viper said, drawing a knife. “Marek hates that.”

Chapter Forty-Five

From in front of her, Julian said, “Stay out of the light, Sky. It’s too soon.”

Beside her, Viper said, “She’s good.” The long, curved knife in his left hand made Sky think of a gold scimitar with jagged teeth. It glinted in the muted sunlight of the gardens as they passed under the arched entrance. “You stay close to me,” he said to her.

The stone, cool as ice in her mouth, did more than relieve Sky’s aching throat. It made her feel surprisingly good. The weakness was nearly gone. Her head was clearing.

Across the garden a small tense group waited: Marek, Vandar, Kraeyl, and a young female Shade. Kraeyl watched Marek with a flat expression of hate, as if he carried a blank death scroll waiting for Marek’s name to be written in blood. Marek was talking and pointing up at the glass panels in the cavernous roof. Even with her new hearing, Sky made out only the modulated tones of a tour guide who loved his job. But only the girl was looking up, as if she’d never seen glass before.

At a nod from Julian, Harli flew up to a ledge, then melted into the dark.

Julian, Sky, and Viper came to a stop almost directly across from Marek, separated by a wide cobblestone path. Vandar and Kraeyl stood close together, slightly apart from Marek and Maggie.

“Empty,” Sky whispered, taking in the deserted paths, the undisturbed trees, the lonesome benches. “Why?”

“Not empty,” Viper said. “Out of sight.”

“Thank you for coming, brother,” Marek said.

Julian looked ready to bring down hellfire and wrath on Vandar’s head. “Slow day,” he said. “No vampires to reap.” He moved his gaze deliberately to Vandar. “Things are picking up.”

“You’re looking well, SkyLynne.” Marek bowed to Sky as if she’d shown up at his mansion for dinner wearing a tiara and diamonds.

If they were here to sign a contract, Sky didn’t see any pens or paper. Marek directed his attention to a ledge slightly to Julian’s left and said, “Harlique. Come and guard the female.”

When Harli jumped down from a ledge behind them, Marek said, “The youngling has no part in this. Take her.”

Vandar moved in front of her. “Maggie remains with me,” he said.

Waiting a beat too long to speak, just long enough for Vandar to brace for resistance, Marek said, “Do you truly want the youngling on the battleground?” He took a tactful step away. “The choice is yours.”

Battleground?
A fight was one thing, but people died in battles.

A moment of hesitation kept Vandar silent until he said, “There will be no battle this day. The reaper will give me what is mine.”

As if he’d just thought of it, Marek said, “In the remaining time, it is our brother’s right to challenge you to an honor fight.” He made it sound as if doing that would be the stupidest thing in the world, but as king, he had to put it out there.

What was Marek doing? Couldn’t he see murder in Julian’s eyes?

Julian picked up Marek’s cue and shrugged out of his duster, tossed it toward a boulder. He unbuttoned his shirt in a blink and flung it toward his duster. A double harness crisscrossed his broad back, rigid with muscle. Two ivory hilts lay snug against leather.

“Sky,” Julian said over his shoulder as he moved forward. “Stay with Viper.”

“No.” Sky tried to pull away from Viper’s sudden manacle-like grip on her wrist. She pushed the stone to one side in her mouth and tried to make her voice louder. “Don’t fight your brother over me.” That was stupid. Julian was too mad to care.

“Stop talking so much,” Julian said. “Your throat will get worse.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Viper said, as if Sky hadn’t spoken.

Maybe Vandar got up to bad shit, and Sky knew he’d killed people, but draining was a sickness, and he didn’t want to do it. She knew that because just before Vandar looked away, she’d seen something totally unexpected in his eyes. Whoever Maggie was, he cared about her. And if he cared about even one person, could he be all that bad? In that moment, Sky knew Vandar didn’t want her. It wasn’t personal. If he could have collected her blood and left, he would have.

She dredged her memory and came up with something she was sure would stop Julian. “Won’t stay with Viper,” she said in her rasping voice. “Don’t want to. Can’t force me.”

Julian stopped and turned to Sky, as if he were trying to puzzle out what she meant. “That was before,” he said, patient as a teacher explaining the rules on the first day of school. “You’re a Shadow Worlder now. You’re bonded to me.” He turned away, concentrating on Vandar across from them. “You’re staying with Viper.”

A thrill of fear rippled through Sky. She had a sudden, terrifying insight. Julian had been waiting for this fight for a long time, maybe centuries. He was like a man who’d been holding his breath, and now, finally, he could exhale.

Julian took a step toward Vandar. “I challenge.”

Sky planted her feet and gave a tremendous heave. Her wrist slipped about a centimeter in Viper’s grip. “I won’t drink from you,” she tried to shout from her ravaged throat. Tears of pain pricked her eyes. “Julian! Do you hear me?”

“You won’t have a choice,” he said, not looking back. “Viper. Take her.”

Vandar pushed Maggie toward Harli, who moved his arms carefully around her, stepped back, then flew up to a ledge with her. Before Sky knew it, Viper’s arms came around her from behind. Her feet left the ground, and she found herself flying up and back. They landed on a ledge just feet away from Maggie and Harli. The vampire stood stock-still in Harli’s grip, not taking her gaze from Vandar.

“My lord,” Kraeyl said, “this is a deception.”

Of course it was a trick. Even Sky, the newest Shade in the gardens, knew that.

“You have but to wait two minutes,” Kraeyl went on, “and Marek will be constrained to sign the contract.”

But Sky heard something running through his words, not a lie exactly, more like he was saying something he almost believed, but not quite.

“There are unseen eyes watching,” Vandar said. “If I wait, it will be known throughout my empire that I am a coward. It will be said I hesitate to stain my blade, preferring to hide behind ink spilled on parchment. How long, counselor, do you think I would stand as Lord of the Dominion if that were to be said?”

Oh, Sky thought. Damn good trick. If what a guy needed was for two brothers to fight.

“Only the young would dare say such things,” Kraeyl said. “I would seek them out and execute them.”

“And if you murdered the young for speaking out—”

Kraeyl didn’t let Marek finish. “The council recognizes the Dominion as sovereign,” he said.

“‘Sovereign’ does not mean sanctioned murder of the young and defenseless,” Marek said mildly. “I would not send a reaper after you. I would come for you myself, Vazzago.”

“Govern yourself and your threats,” Kraeyl said, “lest you endanger the much-vaunted rumors of your honor-loving ways.”

Oh God, Sky thought. If those two fight, it would go nuclear.

“It appears, counselor, that a Creed warrior has challenged me to an honor fight,” Vandar said. “If you are not too much engaged at present in goading a king within the confines of his stronghold, I ask you to bear witness.”

“He is barely a usurper, let alone a king,” Kraeyl said. “He turns his back on an entire world that lays at our feet, ripe for the plundering. He is fit only to lead the feeble to hide under cover of darkness.”

If that was Kraeyl with a conscience—what Marek called a veil—Sky couldn’t imagine him without one.

Marek, who had never been anything but the soul of gracious toward Sky, said in an oddly gentle voice, “Vazzago, in deference to SkyLynne’s presence, I have borne your insults. However, should your tongue outrun common courtesy again this day, I will, without warning, and with all apologies to your lord, rip out your throat and plunge my dagger into your left eye.”

“He wouldn’t really, would he?” Sky barely mouthed the words from her agonized throat.

Into her ear, Viper said, “Kraeyl wouldn’t see it coming.”

Chapter Forty-Six

“You know how ill-tempered our brother can be, counselor,” Vandar said in an utter deadpan voice. “If it would not overly trouble you, I ask you to defer your death until after you have done me the service of standing witness to the honor fight.”

Kraeyl turned shamefaced and bowed his head to Vandar. “I am at your pleasure, my lord.”

“Take your place.” Vandar shrugged out of his leather vest and let it fall at his feet. He was built like a pro-wrestler, Sky saw, a young one who was still in prime shape to do some hardcore ass kicking.

Vandar and Julian faced each other, both naked to the waist. Vandar’s blond dreads flowed down his back. Vandar was standing still, but he was strangely restless. He reminded Sky of a smoker who craved a cigarette badly. A broad belt ran around his waist, anchoring a leather scabbard with an iron hilt sticking from it.

Julian stood with his legs slightly apart, hands open, relaxing into the coming fight. Marek and Kraeyl stood between them, like referees in a boxing match.

“Do you, Azryal, as reaper and guardian of the Creed, consent to abide by the outcome of this match?” Marek asked.

“I consent,” Julian said.

Turning to Vandar, Marek said, “Do you, LaHaaz, as one who has abandoned the Creed, consent to be bound by the outcome of this match?”

Kraeyl looked ready to knock Vandar to the ground and sit on him till the clock ticked down. “This is against my counsel, my lord,” he said.

“Consent given,” Vandar said, his cool eyes on Julian.

His face fixed into careful neutrality, Kraeyl said, “Duly witnessed.”

“Very well.” Marek looked from one Shade to the other, then spoke again, his voice raised to echo off the garden’s stone ledges. “To all who stand witness, let it be known, as in times of old, that this honor fight is to the death.”

“What?” Sky surged forward against Viper’s impossibly tight grip, but he was too big, too strong. “They can’t. Not for me,” she said in her ghost of a voice. “Make them stop.”

Viper covered her lips with a cold hand and spoke into her ear. “You want to see Julian die today?”

Sky shook her head and tried to say, “No, no, no!”

“Then shut up. Let him concentrate.” Viper slid his hand away.

Below, Vandar and Julian circled each other. Marek and Kraeyl stood well back, legs spread, hands behind their backs, vigilant sentries. In a fight to the death, Sky wondered, what was the penalty for breaking the rules?

Julian moved his hands through a blur of motion. Then they were in front of him, knives out. He bent his knees, leaning slightly forward, watching Vandar.

Vandar drew his knife, a short, cruel-looking blade that looked completely at home in his big hand. They circled each other in what looked like slow motion to Sky.

In a move too quick to follow, Julian spun and kicked out, aiming for Vandar’s legs. Vandar jumped back, avoiding the blow, his face revealing nothing.

“I’ll enjoy her each day in my bed,” Vandar said, circling Julian. “After I drink from her.”

His face so hard it could have been made of marble, Julian said nothing. He lunged and scored two quick slashes to Vandar, one on each cheek.

“You’ll have a hard time draining more mortals after I rip out your fangs,” Julian said. With a low growl, he sprang forward and struck again.

Vandar ducked a roundhouse kick and rolled, then came to his feet. As she watched, Vandar, his dreads flaring out behind him, rushed Julian, weaving past his knives, and punched his throat.

Instead of staggering, Julian leaned into the blow, dropped the knife in his left hand, and grabbed Vandar’s wrist in a brutal grip. Using the caught wrist for leverage, Julian brought his right hand up and slashed deeply across Vandar’s chest.

Wrenching free, Vandar shot straight up into the air, curled his legs under him, avoiding Julian’s flashing blade aimed at his ankles. Flipping over in midair, Vandar landed behind Julian.

Whirling around fast enough to make his hair fly out around him, Julian faced Vandar.

“You’re ashes, LaHaaz.” A thin cut high on Julian’s left cheek dripped blood. He circled right, his empty left hand raised, palm out, his right hand holding his knife in a relaxed grip, close to his body.

Vandar maintained silence.

The two warriors moved around each other in a kind of slow dance, neither striking, neither speaking, both focused on one thing: killing.

Julian hunkered down, low to the ground, then launched himself at Vandar. In a tangle of bodies, they both hit stone and rolled, grappling and snarling.

Julian landed on top, his knife at Vandar’s throat.

“Yield,” Julian said through clenched teeth, “or I saw your throat clean through to your spine before I sink my blade in your left eye.”

“Not to the death?” Sky asked Viper.

“Julian’s choice,” he murmured.

Silent, Vandar glared at Julian.

“Why doesn’t he yield?” Sky asked in her horribly coarse voice.

“A warrior never backs down,” Viper whispered. “Better to die.”

With a furiously violent twist, Vandar bucked, throwing Julian off balance. Hammering a punch just above Julian’s left ear, Vandar stunned him long enough to shove Julian off.

Vandar sprang to his feet, unarmed. He’d lost his knife in Julian’s attack. Blood welled from tiny cuts on his neck, his face.

Julian gave a battle cry and lunged, his knife aimed at Vandar’s belly. He jumped back, barely escaping Julian’s blade.

They retreated. Their gazes never left each other.

“She is mine, reaper,” Vandar said. “You fight only to gain that which already belongs to me.”

Julian aimed a hard kick at the side of Vandar’s head. He snapped his head back, but he was too slow. The blow landed hard enough to shatter his jaw. Vandar stumbled back.