Page 25 of Night Fall
The first sign of the war were the empty villages, where the only life seemed to be the crows and small animals scavenging the roads. It appeared that everyone had left in a hurry; furniture lay tossed outside homes, rotting food turning to mush underfoot. At least, Mya hoped, the townspeople had made it to safety.
The next village had not been so lucky. Bodies lay in the roads, their blood lining the streets and seeping into the soil. Erik tried to keep her from witnessing the massacre, but she refused to hide behind their carriage blinds. Mya needed to see the carnage, to be able to stomach that someone once filled with life could now be nothing more than a corpse strewn and discarded like trash. These were the terrors of war, and she knew it would only get worse; she needed to use what she could to prepare for what was to come.
Eventually they could no longer continue by carriage, the roads blocked by bodies of humans and animals alike. They had not traveled as far as Erik had wanted them to, but they had no other choice.
As Mya, Erik, Gregori, and Lucas exited the carriage, they each took a small bag which contained spare sets of clothes, any items that held sentimental value to them, and containers of blood and water. They opened the rest of their luggage and tossed it around the carriage to look like a robbery. Then Erik, Gregori, and Lucas walked back to the closest village to find dead men who would play them in their false tale.
Mya took this time to change. Women were not allowed on the battlefield; her mere image would be enough of an oddity and she would be remembered by anyone who survived. She dressed in Erik’s tunic and a pair of Lucas’s trousers. Both were far too big for her, so she tucked the tunic into the trousers and tied a piece of fabric around both to keep them from falling. Then she tied her hair at her nape, braided the length, and tucked it into the back of the tunic. She knew the disguise would not stand up to much scrutiny, but her vampire speed would keep anyone from seeing the truth.
When she finished, Mya looked at the carriage one last time. She felt the bag at her hip and the difference of the clothes that now covered her body, and she was hit by the reality of what would soon occur.
She was not upset about faking her death, nor leaving England, but she had made several of her first, most important memories there: the first time she had felt desire for Erik, their first kiss, their first touch, the first time she had felt free. He, rather than the country, was at the epicenter of so many of her happy memories, yet for all the things she hated about England, she was familiar with it. She knew where the apothecary was. She knew how to get medicine. She had a dedicated space for her experiments, and she knew where to go and what streets to take to access the poor and give them the medicine they had no other means of being able to afford.
Mya also knew she was not the only one who felt this way. Erik had changed so many lives in his reign as lord. He had done so much good, and who was to say the person who fell in line behind him would do the same? What about Gregori? Lucas? What about their memories and hopes and dreams? Leaving England, changing their names, falsifying their deaths––there would be no way to undo any of those decisions.
France would be new: new roads, society, culture, language, people, places. New expectations. There would be so much to learn and experience. Lucas was good at seeing that, at simply enjoying the spectacle of hope, of what was new and fun and spontaneous. He appreciated adventure, while Mya feared it.
But what other choice did they have?
The answer was clear when she watched the men reappear with a body on each shoulder.
They placed each body in the carriage, toppled it over, then in one final act, Erik set the carriage on fire.
They watched it burn together, each caught in their own thoughts, until the footsteps of their armies grew closer. With a sigh they left and traveled through the woods to the open battlefield.
The gunshots were deafening, sending a ringing pain through Mya’s ears. She shook her head and remembered this was why Erik had told her they could not use guns. One moment of weakness could give someone—even a human—enough leeway to kill an immortal. All it took was a brain injury, and the new, experimental weaponry the armies were using, were accurate enough now to destroy the complex organ.
Erik ran through the rules once more as they waited in the tree line: Focus on killing the gunmen first, preferably from behind to eliminate risks. Use swords or knives to appear human, instead of relying on your strength. If at any point you feel the need to drink blood, drain the blood in the bags first.
They nodded and stood together, waiting for his signal. Mya knew the moment they leapt forward, everything would change. Whether or not they wanted it to, they were about to make history, to aid England in winning a war regardless of whether they truly believed they deserved to, only because the French army stood in their way. But for their survival, it had to be done.
Erik’s fingers brushed her own as if he could feel the grimness in her, and she turned her hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. When they released, he took one breath, then whispered the command.
“Go.”
They sped through the air as they fanned out along the field. Mya reached her first man. His gun was leveled at a soldier, and before he took his next breath, she cut off his head. His body crumpled to the ground as life left him so quickly, so effortlessly. The whole ordeal was over in a second, and it was then she realized she was no different than him.
For just a moment she wondered if he had a family, someone he was fighting for just as she was. But then, she shook her head, regulated her breathing, and reminded herself she could not go down that road. Erik was out there. Her family was out there. She could not fall behind and she could not let this overtake her. After all, this was war, and there would always be sacrifices in war.
Mya killed another man, and another, and another until she lost count. If there was any goodness to be found in this, it was that she made sure they did not feel any pain. She tried to be merciful and killed each man quickly, without hesitation. But in her pathway of death and destruction, she did not notice the gun trained on her from the line of the trees until it was too late.
The shot was so loud it made her head spin, but she forced herself to focus. The bullet would hurt when it hit her shoulder, but she would heal quickly. Then she would be sure to kill that man and anyone else she found hidden away before they could possibly hurt her family.
She prepared for the impact—closed her eyes, took a deep breath to ready herself for the pain—but it did not come. Instead of the expected bullet, she felt a shadow fall over her, and when she looked up, she saw Erik.
He stood in front of her, his back to her, and for a split second she thought he had taken the bullet in her place. Panic gripped her chest. She reached out for him, only to hear him roar. The sound, like a murderous beast, was louder than any gunshot, any scream, any cry of pain.
The temperature rose around them. Mya called to Erik, but her voice was not enough to break him from his spell. She understood the only thing that would do so was the blood of the man who had shot at her, and so she waited behind Erik and allowed him to take vengeance on her behalf.
Flames rippled out of his body, four lines that poured over the battlefield, melting the flesh of the fallen and setting those in its path on fire. The scent of their charred bodies coated the air as their screams echoed around them.
Erik roared again and the flames lifted, floating in the sky before combining. They stilled for a second, then sped toward the man in the trees. The flames burned so hot, so brightly, they vaporized him in an instant.
Erik’s hand twitched as he widened the fire, spreading it further and further, burning the trees, the space around them. More men screamed, and their voices were joined by more and more, and more until…
Mya touched Erik’s back, molded herself to it, and whispered, “I am right here. You saved me. You protected me. You can stop now.”
His powers calmed, but the damage was done. The flames spread along the forest naturally now, burning brush and trees.
