Reckoning (33 page)

No wonder it is so easy to become addicted to human blood.
  

Nicolae’s grunt tugs Roseline forward.
 
She leaps for her swords, tucking them into her back harness before sprinting toward Vladimir.
 
Ducking low, she hits him with the full force of a semi-truck.
 
He tumbles end over end, slamming into the far wall.
 
His eyes roll back in his head.
 
His sword falls free from his hand.

Roseline drops to Nicolae’s side.
 
His face is ashen but intact, apart from a few nail tracks along his cheek.
 
Blood streams from a gash along his waist.
 
“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, accepting her hand up.
 
“I think I’ll live.”
 

He slumps against the wall, gazing at the war-strewn courtyard.
 
Bodies lie everywhere.
 
Black clad hunters continue to spill in through the doors while others rappel down from the tower.

“What is Fane doing?” Nicolae grunts, his hand clutching his side.

Roseline spins around, searching for her friend.
 
She finds him, locked in hand-to-hand combat near the front gate.
 
The arched wooden doors they entered through less than half an hour before no longer exist.
 
Its remnant splinters stick out of the bodies that scatter the courtyard grounds.

At Fane’s back, a group of hunters fight to contain the flow of immortals desperately attempting to flee the castle.
 
One glance reveals the reason for Fane’s wild fight - many of the immortals are wounded, some possibly in the process of dying.
 
There is only one place they will head now - Brasov.

“He’s trying to protect the humans,” she says.

She swivels her head back toward Nicolae and freezes.
 
Vladimir has vanished.
 
Nicolae turns to follow her gaze and color drains from his face.

“Oh god!” he cries, rushing forward.
 
“He’s gone.”

Roseline sprints around Nicolae, reaching the spot where Vladimir fell.
 
A splatter of blood remains on the white wall.
 

A narrow hallway veers off just a couple feet away.
 
Roseline dives for the opening, arriving just in time to see Vladimir’s coat flapping behind him as he rounds the corner.

“Vladimir is heading for an upper level,” Roseline relays.

“He’s going after Sadie!” Nicolae roars.
   

Chapter 38

Nicolae races for the hallway.
 
Roseline leaps in front of him, pressing him back from the doorway.

“Think, Nicolae.
 
If you run in there, terrified that something terrible will happen to Sadie, Vladimir will use that against you.
 
You are not strong enough to beat him right now.
 
He is high on human blood.
 
Trust me, I know.”

“What do you expect me to do,” he shouts, struggling against her grasp.
 
“I can’t just wait around here and hope she’s ok.”

“Do you trust me?”

Nicolae’s lips purse together.
 
“Yes.”

“Then let me go after Sadie.
 
Fane needs your help.
 
If those immortals get past him, there will be a lot of deaths in Brasov tonight.”

She can tell he wants to push the issue, to find a way past her and rush to Sadie’s side, but he deflates.
 
“You’re right.
 
Just promise me you’ll stake Vladimir to the ground.”

Roseline grins.
 
“Count on it. Now go!”

Her boots slap against the floor as she rushes through the house, searching room by room.
 
It is only when she reaches the main part of the castle that she realizes Nicolae never told her where he hid Sadie.

“Roseline!”

She whirls around, weaving through the hallways, following William’s call.
 
A grunt of pain steers her into a back sitting room just off the formal dining room. Vladimir’s black eyes flare at her over William’s shoulder, using his body as a shield.
 

“Let him go, Vladimir.”
 
Roseline steps cautiously into the room.
 

Her husband inches to the right.
 
His back slides along the wall until he reaches the doorway into another room.
 
A small golden dagger adorned with rubies and diamonds presses against her friend’s neck.
 
William stumbles backward and blood beads under the tip of the blade as it nicks his flesh.

William rises onto his toes in an effort to ease the pressure of the knife.
 
His eyes are wide with terror.
 

“I told you to hide,” Roseline says.

“I did,” he grunts as Vladimir jabs his neck again.
 
“He found me.”

“You should have taught him how to hold his breath,” Vladimir snickers.
 
“Even a newborn could have spotted him in that broom cupboard.”

Roseline grinds her teeth.
 
Hasn’t William learned anything about immortal’s freakishly good hearing?
 
She stuffs away her annoyance.
 
William needs her.
 
“So what now?
 
You’re just going to run him through and then take me out?”

Vladimir eyes her closely.
 
She knows the flush in her cheeks betrays her recent healing.
 
Energy and strength course through her veins.
 
She is stronger, faster, and more agile than he now is.
 

“No.
 
I suggest a trade.”
 
He backs to the far wall and finds his elbow touching a wide pane of glass covering a tall window.
 
“I make my escape and your little human learns how to fly.”

William cries out as the window implodes behind him.
 
Vladimir’s grip loosens as he ducks inside his coat, trying to shield himself from the glass shards.
 
Roseline leaps behind a table, knocking out the legs to cover herself.
 

Glass buries into the tabletop as something enormous rolls across the floor before leaping upright.
 
Bare feet stand unaffected by the carpet of glass underfoot.

“William, run!”
 
Roseline kicks the table at the new assailant.
 
Vladimir turns and flees up the staircase at the back of the room.
 
Reaching over her shoulder, Roseline retrieves her swords and sprints after him.
 
Vladimir whirls on the top step and hurtles his dagger down at her. Roseline leaps onto the narrow railing and jumps out of its path.

Vladimir curses and darts out of sight.
 
Roseline takes the stairs three at a time.
 
She braces as she reaches the top step and peeks into the room.
 
Nothing.

Lowering her blades, she cautiously moves across to the center of the room.
 
The wooden floor creaks underfoot.
 
Roseline’s breath hitches as she waits for the attack, but it never comes.

Once she is sure that Vladimir is no longer in the room, she rushes for the door.
 
A glint of a sword appears in the doorway.
 
Roseline drops to her knees and slides under the blade.
 
Her slick leather pants glide along the polished floor.
 
She arches her back and the tip of her nose barely clears the razor sharp blade.
 
 

Stabbing her sword into the plank floor, to keep from sliding into the room beyond, Roseline counter turns and kicks Vladimir into the wall.
 
Plaster cracks as his head smashes into it.
 
A coat of arms overhead slams down onto Vladimir’s shoulder.
 
He curses and kicks it before racing away.
 

Yanking her sword free, Roseline gives chase down the darkened hallway.
 
Candlelight flickers from sconces every ten feet.
 
When Vladimir reaches the end of the hall, his feet stutter on the waxed floor as he tries to take the corner too fast.
 
Roseline jabs her sword at his unprotected side and slices through his elaborate coat.
 
Gold threads flutter to the floor as he turns to fight.
 

 
His chest rises and falls, panting, as he struggles to parry each attack.
 
“You’ve improved,” he grunts, thrusting his sword at her heart.
 

Roseline bends backward, narrowly avoiding his perfectly aimed jab.
 
“It’s amazing what three hundred years of rage will do for you.”

With a loud bellow, Vladimir lunges and Roseline sidesteps his attack, backing into a doorway.
 
Vladimir’s blade buries deep into the solid wood molding that clings to the corner’s edge.
 
He grunts as he tries to pull it free.
 

Holding her swords at her waist, Roseline spins on her toes, her blades whirling like a rotating saw.
 
Vladimir kicks at his sword hilt to free the blade.
 
The tip of Roseline’s sword slices through Vladimir’s coat, carving off one coat tail before he drops to the ground and kicks out her feet.
   

Vladimir is already on the move.
 
He leaps through an open doorway and crashes through a window onto the third floor terrace. He rolls over the back of a brunette immortal who staggers toward the railing, blinded by the blood gushing from a head wound.
 
Vladimir shoves through the fray of hunters and immortals fiercely locked in a battle to the death.
 

Roseline leaps to her feet and pursues him onto the terrace.
 
She spies Vladimir making his way through the overcrowded terrace.
 
Grabbing a wooden beam overhead, she swings out onto the slanted second story roof that runs parallel.
 

Below, swords clang and arrows whistle through the air.
 
The cries of the dying rise into the night’s sky.
 
Shadows of the battle-worn soldiers flicker off the whitewashed walls.
 
A wide expanse of gold illuminates the courtyard with brilliant light, catching her eye but she pulls her gaze away, focusing on the obstacles before her.
  

She dashes across the roof, careful to keep her heels raised so they do not catch on the rust colored tiles.
 
Vladimir charges across the terrace, shoving immortals and hunters alike over the railing.
 
Their screams cut off abruptly as they hit the ground below.

Roseline leaps onto a large black sconce near the middle of the terrace.
 
Her fingers grip the metal brace, swinging back and forth.
 
She releases and flies up onto the terrace only a few feet behind her husband.
 

“Grigori, watch out!” She shouts.

Nicolae’s commander flattens to the floor as Vladimir barrels past, his sword leveled to mow down anyone in his path.
 
Roseline reaches Grigori in two bounds.
 
“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathes deeply, steadying his nerves.
 
“Go on. He’s getting away.”

Roseline nods and dashes back into the house.
 
The brilliant golden light from outside momentarily hampers her vision as she enters the dim room.
 
She pauses in the doorway to let her eyes.
 

Her chest rises and falls in silent pants as she listens for Vladimir’s movements.
 
It’s hard to block out the battle raging outside.
 
The instant her vision clears, she ducks low and draws near to the great room.
 

Roseline pauses with her back pressed to the wall and fights to still her nerves.
 
The great room is large, dotted with various pieces of furniture and wall to ceiling bookcases.
 
A large fireplace adorns the wall to her right while the other is plastered with ornate golden caricatures of Vladimir’s lineage.
 
With soaring wooden beams along the ceiling to perch in, she is at a disadvantage if Vladimir has taken to higher ground.
   

Inhaling deeply, Roseline prepares herself.
 
She tucks her blades in close, using her body to shield their metallic glint as she dives into the room.
 
The whistle of an arrow reaches her just before the gust of wind passes by.
 
The tip of the feather grazes her cheek.

Rolling to her knees, Roseline hides behind a high backed sofa.
 
Its hideous floral pattern mocks her, reminding her of the life she has been forced to endure in this castle for over three centuries, but tonight, all of that changes.
 

She looks to the ceiling, searching.
 
There is no sign of Vladimir.

Her heart hammers in her chest.
 
Where is he?
 
From her vantage point, she cannot see where he is perched, but judging by the angle of the last arrow, he must be up there.

Another arrow is released.
 
She sprawls to the floor, sliding under a large beige chaise.
 
Her swords slide across the room sized rug, spinning out of reach.
 
Her shoulder pops as she stretches toward the nearest blade.
 
An arrow burrows into the rug only a hairs width from her forefinger.
  

Roseline retracts her hand, frantically glancing around for a new weapon.
 
A cluster of wooden chair legs impairs her view.
 
Another arrow releases.
 
Roseline flattens to the floor as it pierces through the bottom of the chaise before coming to rest less than two inches from her nose.
 

Wiggling away from the arrowhead, Roseline scrunches up near the end of the chaise.
 
She cranes her head to look to the ceiling.
 
The crisscrossing beams are empty.
 
Where is he?