“There’s another!” I bounce onto my feet as movement distracts me from the opposite corner.
“What—” Ruvan doesn’t have a chance to react. The creature lunging for him sinks all of its fangs into the hand wielding the sickle, puncturing the leather of his glove. The weapon clatters to the ground as Ruvan lets out a horrible scream. Black blood explodes. Before my eyes, it changes color to a sickly green shade.
I want to make sure he’s all right. The urge is strange and unwelcome. Fortunately for me, I have a compelling reason not to spend too much time lingering on the thought. I scoop up my sickle and face off against the monster barreling toward me.
Its gait is strange. It shambles on two legs, sprinting, tipping forward to run almost like a wolf on all fours. Its claws dig into the stone floor with every lunge forward, leaving deep gouges behind. It snarls and clicks at me, sniffing the air. It’s all limb and bone and sinewy muscle.
This isn’t like the vampire I’ve been fighting with. There is nothing remotely human about this creature—not even the strange and ethereal way that the vampire seem to mirror humanity.
Every instinct of self-preservation is screaming within me. Telling me to run. To flee. I hold fast. Another thing Drew always said was the mark of a good hunter: being able to hold steady even in the face of death.
I wait until I can see the dark pits of the creature’s eyes. They look more like husks, scabbed and scarred over, rather than anything that could be used for sight. It lunges for me.
I sidestep and slash, catching the creature underneath the ribs. It howls and rolls off my sickle, clipping my armor. Luckily I’m still unscathed. It’s dazed for only a second before it barrels back toward me.
“We’re coming down!” Winny shouts. A rope unfurls, drawing my attention and Ruvan’s at the same time. We see more movement in unison, because we both react.
“Don’t!” he cries, a hand clamping his wounded wrist. I wonder if they’ve seen the gash. Surely they must smell it. The scent of rot coming from Ruvan’s forearm is the only thing my nose can seem to focus on. “It’s a nest of Fallen. Keep moving, we’ll meet you at the old workshop.”
“My lord—” Lavenzia begins to say.
“That’s an order,” he barks, harsher than I’ve ever heard before. Ruvan makes another strike at the first monster and then spins, grabbing my hand. “We have to run.”
I barely have time to process what he’s said before my arm is nearly ripped from its socket by the force of him pulling me along. We sprint to a side door that he throws his shoulder into with a grunt. More blood explodes from his forearm.
“Move aside.” I throw my shoulder into him, knocking the vampire lord out of the way.
Ruvan faces off against the incoming monsters. He holds out his wounded arm, blood dripping to the floor, mouth set into a hard line of pain and determination. Blood suddenly pours out of the gash and into the air, hovering, defying convention. It circles and spins, flying toward the monsters, coating them.
They screech and hiss as if hit by acid before going unnaturally still.
With all my remaining strength I push on the door. My muscles scream and strain against my armor. But the grunts of the monsters struggling against Ruvan’s control is all the motivation I need. The hefty door cracks open. “Go.”
Luckily, he doesn’t even attempt to be chivalrous. Ruvan steps around the crack in the door, the trance on the monsters breaking as he lowers his arm. I quickly follow behind him. We both put our back to it. The last thing I see is three monsters charging toward us, a fourth feasting on its fallen counterpart.
