CheckMate Page 18

  At that instant, she glanced toward him, and her eyes widened in fear. “Vincent!” she shouted. “Behind you!"

  He turned just in time to raise his stake and, more by chance than conscious design, struck the chest of the vampire that had been leaping for his throat. It crumbled to ash in front of him, but he didn't wait for a second and took the opportunity of having only two adversaries to attack before another vampire joined in. The female vampire he chose clearly hadn't expected his move, and her second of surprise was enough for him to slip past the short dagger she had used to slash his arm in two places to find her heart. The dust hadn't yet settled before two more vampires stepped forward.

  Vincent glanced at Lilia where she was still struggling. They had too many adversaries for him to stand in front of her and allow her to stay out of the battle, even if she had allowed him to do that. She wasn't the kind to watch a fight from the sidelines without joining in if she could help. But that didn't mean he couldn't give her a hand.

  He worked his way closer to her, as he fought, and did what he could to have his opponents get in the way of hers. Not the easiest thing to manage when you were trying to remain alive, but that was the best he could do.

  The best, until Nathanael's voice rose, furious and cutting in the night, right after a new ball of fire had set another vampire ablaze.

  "Alexei! Take a few minions and find that damn wizard before he takes all of us. Try to turn him if you can."

  One of the vamps that had been fighting Lilia broke off; he had gathered others and they had started running off before Vincent could think of a way to warn off Don. Things were not looking good. And even less so when Nathanael gave his next order.

  "Leave her to me. Keep the human away from us. And stop playing with him and get to the kill, I'm getting tired of this."

  The four remaining vampires obeyed instantly and, standing between Vincent and Lilia, started pushing him back and away from her and Nathanael. Tired as he was, and with four adversaries now instead of three, he was in for a difficult fight. Yet it was Lilia he was worried for as blows started to fall.

  * * * *

  From where he was, it took Don a few seconds to understand what was going on. At first, it seemed that the vampires were merely changing their positions, and trying a new tactic to fight Vincent and Lilia. Soon it became clear that a group of vampires had broken off from the fight completely, and, worse, seemed to be running in his direction. The balls of fire left trails behind them as they shot from his hands, trails that were all too clear in the dark, and he had known he would get attention; he had just hoped it wouldn't come so fast.

  His first instinct was to listen to his rising panic and run. Even if he had had a stake, he didn't stand a chance against the five vampires running toward him so fast they almost seemed to fly. Don knew vampires couldn't fly, that it was only a myth, but it didn't stop his heart from beating hard enough to break out of his chest, nor did it stop the cold sweat rolling down his back. It would be over in a minute if he was lucky, and in a lot longer than that if he were not.

  But he could see, behind the approaching vamps, that Vincent was still fighting, and not giving up despite odds that weren't in his favor either. It had been something he had always admired, even envied, in his friend; once he started something, he went through with it, however hard it might be. That was why Vincent had continued fighting after Peter's death, while Don had retreated behind the bookshop and his growing responsibilities there.

  Maybe it was time for Don to properly honor the pact he had made almost eight years earlier along with Vincent and Peter. He had never refused Vincent his help over the years, but he had always known he could have done far more.

  After all, he suddenly realized, he had something much better than a stake. A stake could only kill one vampire at a time, and only if he was close, whereas the fire he summoned could take down several of them at a distance, if he aimed carefully enough.

  He didn't have time to think about it too long, not when they were getting closer with each disappearing second. There were five of them, fairly spread out, but if he could just manage to take them two at a time before they reached him, he might make the odds turn in his favor.

  The fire left his fingertips and rushed toward the group; Don cursed under his breath when they easily scattered in front of the incoming threat and avoided it. Of course, he should have anticipated that. So far, he had struck the vamps from behind; it would be considerably more difficult to do while they faced him, unless they were too close to jump out of the way.

  Fear returned, stronger than before, but more at the sudden turn his thoughts had taken than at the sight of the approaching vamps. It was an insane idea. Completely insane but it might just be insane enough to work.

  Hiding behind the rocks again, he retreated as far as he could into the depression formed by two of the boulders where they met at their base. A vamp would have little problem getting to him where he was, but only one would be able to reach into his hiding place. And if, with a little luck, the others were close enough behind...

  "Hiding?” a mocking voice taunted even as the vampires appeared. “You reek of fear so much, you could be on the other side of the town and we'd still smell you. Come on out, now. If you play nice, you might not die completely tonight. Our Master wants a new toy."

  For a second, Don closed his eyes; the fear had always been there that he might get killed while working with Vincent, or that he might get his friend killed, but he had never considered he could get turned. He had never allowed himself to consider it.

  "If you want me, you'll have to come and get me."

  His voice trembled, thick with his barely controlled panic, but there was little he could do about that and in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the words he murmured under his breath, and the warmth slowly building in each of his palms; it was trickier to do it twice in a short period of time, but his options were too limited to hesitate now.

  A vamp approached, fangs gleaming as they caught the light of the moon while its eyes burned with an internal fire, but Don ignored the sight, ignored his instinctive reaction which was to yell for help, and concentrated instead on the fire that would soon consume the creature in front of him, and those standing just a step back. Either that, or he was dead.

  The first ball of fire left his hand just as the vampire reached for him; Don could feel on his face the heat of the fire spreading over its clothes before the vamp stumbled back and into a couple of his fangy friends. It crumbled to ashes just as Don was launching his second attack. He wasn't sure how many vamps were touched; he hoped all of them were burning, but he couldn't be sure without looking, and it was more important to focus and get ready to fire again than to count how many vampires were still standing.

  * * * *

  Her back throbbed with pain with each movement, but Lilia was all too conscious of what was at stake with this fight to let the pain affect her. It had been easier under the thrall; nothing had been important save for her Sire's orders, and she truly hadn't felt pain as she fought Vincent. Now she did, and it was excruciating. Still, if she allowed the pain to rule her, if she slipped now, she would die, and condemn Vincent. So she couldn't slip, it was as easy as that.

  She was aware of the way he tried to help her, as they battled side-by-side; aware, also, that there were still many vampires around them, waiting for their chance to attack and kill. She vaguely remembered Nathanael rewarding Alexei for having captured her by inviting him and all of his minions to the show while the rest of the clan remained in the lair. It had to be about fifteen of them. Too many. She would never last that long.

  Yet, she had to. She couldn't fail Vincent.

  Things changed with a few barked orders. Several vampires ran off to fight with a wizard—Don, she supposed—and suddenly Lilia only had one fighter opposite her instead of three. It would have been an improvement, if it hadn't happened to be Nathanael.

  The
thought threatened to overwhelm her and make her give up, but a glimpse of Vincent as he was pushed back away from her brought the fire of the fight back and roaring in her veins. Nathanael had thralled her, as though she had been nothing more than a minion or human to play with rather than his own Childe. He had thralled her, and tried to make her kill her Mate. She attacked with a snarl and energy she would have sworn only a minute earlier she didn't have.

  Nathanael seemed briefly astonished that she had attacked first, but he regained his focus quickly enough and growled at her. They started exchanging blows in silence. It wasn't like either of them to remain quiet, they were both used to taunting and distracting their adversaries with words, and so Lilia wasn't surprised when he finally spoke up, his voice almost mocking.

  "You would try to kill me, Lilia?"

  She spun and launched herself forward, her right foot directed toward Nathanael's middle. He jumped back at the very last second, managing to avoid her.

  "You have no problem with the idea of killing me,” she retorted. Just as she regained her footing, he was upon her again. She parried his stake with her own and they broke apart once more.

  "Ah, but there's a difference, darling. Sires can kill their Childer when they misbehave."

  Punches on both parts, a couple of kicks; they jumped back and started circling each other. Lilia could remember dozens, hundreds of times when they had done this very same thing in the past. The first time had been mere days after he had turned her; the last one, days before she and Vincent had become Mates. Nevertheless, every single one of these occasions, it had only been a training exercise. Nathanael had wanted her to be as good a fighter as he was, and he had put a lot of energy into her teaching. He had wanted the perfect Childe; she had suspected for a long time already what a disappointment she had been in that regard. She didn't know what she had done, or not done, to displease him, but the simple fact that he had made other Childer after her was proof enough.

  "Death is the ultimate punishment,” he continued, and she could hear the repressed anger of a frustrated Sire in each of his words. “But it is no more than that. Punishment. The right of any Sire."

  He stopped circling suddenly, straightened, even smiled. He was always at his most dangerous when he was the most confident, and she didn't let her guard down.

  "Childer don't kill their Sires, Lilia. That's the one taboo of our culture, and you're too much of a vampire to break it."

  His words slowly sank in, reaching the deepest level of her mind, and she lowered her arms before nodding. She had never thought about it in so many words, but what he was saying made too much sense for comfort. She was a vampire, even when she broke the rules, even when she played as a rogue knight for the other side of the chessboard. Yet, she still couldn't put her own king in checkmate.

  "You're right,” she acknowledged. “I never could."

  She had the time, before she closed her eyes, to see him grin in satisfaction and ready his blow. Time also to see, behind him, that Vincent had broken free from the four remaining vampires he was fighting and was running toward Nathanael, his arm raised and ready to strike down. But she refused to see her lover—her love, her Mate—turn her Sire to ashes and she kept her eyes tightly shut.

  She didn't watch Nathanael die, but she felt it, in her mind and body, and it was like a stab to the guts, so painful that she wrapped her arms around herself. She heard also the shouts suddenly rising in the night, and she knew they were those of the remaining minions, who had just seen the head of their clan crumble to ashes. It had to be frightening to them, when everything they were, everything they did had been directly influenced by Nathanael until that instant. It was only a small comfort to Lilia that she had freed herself from his rule before he had died.

  She wondered, briefly, whether the minions would fight even harder now, and try to avenge their lost Master, or run for their lives until the shock had subsided. In their place, if it had been anyone but Vincent, she knew she would have fought to the death. But she had been Nathanael's Childe; they were nothing more than minions.

  The feather touch of warm fingertips brushed the tears that had rolled down her face without her taking notice, and she opened her eyes.

  "Is it over?” she heard herself ask.

  "Yes, he's gone, they're all gone,” Vincent murmured, so close now that his words were a caress over her cheek.

  She leaned into him, wincing when he wrapped his arms around her back and pressed against her wounds before jerking back, but relishing the contact nonetheless.

  "Did you mean it?"

  The question had been lurking at the back of her mind ever since she had struggled free from the thrall, and now that they were safe, she had to ask, had to know, even if it meant having her heart broken. He seemed to understand right away what she was referring to.

  "I love you,” he repeated his earlier pledge, his words filled to the brim with an emotion that only proved them true.

  Smiling beneath her tears, she pressed her lips to his, then proceeded to let the pain and sheer exhaustion take hold of her, and allowed herself to pass out, knowing he would catch her.

  Chapter 22

  As careful as he was, Vincent still winced as his fingers made contact with Lilia's skin; he applied the salve gently, following a shallow cut. Just as he was finishing, she shivered slightly, alarming him.

  "Does it hurt?"

  She appeared to be asleep still, but whether as an answer to Vincent's words or to his touch, she let out a quiet, almost mewling sound that didn't seem at all like an expression of pain.

  "I'll take that as a no, then,” Vincent murmured, more to himself than to her, and plunged his fingers into the jar again, coating them with more salve than he had on his cautious first try.

  The ointment was thick and he had been afraid that rubbing it in the cuts that covered her back might cause more pain than he was willing to inflict on Lilia. But the substance had practically dissolved upon touching her skin, seeping into the wound and leaving an oily feel behind, and the cut he had been treating had visibly healed, right under his eyes. There was no denying that Don knew what he was doing.

  Despite the rant Don had inflicted on him, he had been very grateful when his friend had brought the remedy to him, only hours after they had taken Lilia home; seeing the state of Lilia's back and not knowing what to do had nearly killed him. He still couldn't grasp how she had managed to fight—that well or that long—with that sort of pain eating at her.

  Making his touch as gentle as possible, he brought his fingers to the center of her back and carefully applied the healing salve. There were so many red slashes covering her from her shoulders to the back of her thighs that he had hesitated before choosing a spot where to begin, finally picking the place where so many slashes met that they were almost indistinguishable from each other.

  He knelt by her side on the bed and applied the ointment slowly, attentive to Lilia's small movements and quiet noises. She had been dozing on and off since he had taken her out of the bath and carefully carried her to the mezzanine, but now she seemed to be awakening.

  "What're you doing?” she mumbled, turning her face toward him but keeping her eyes closed.

  "Taking care of you,” he answered just as quietly. “Your back is hurt pretty bad."

  The sound she muffled in the pillow could have been a groan of pain, but it sounded much more like a snort.

  "That's nothing. Been hurt much more than that before. That one time in Moscow, he..."

  Vincent didn't really want to know about Moscow, didn't want to imagine anything worse than this, but before he could say so, she fell silent. He looked at her face, or what he could see of it amongst the pillows and rumpled hair. He couldn't read any emotions on her features. Had she fallen asleep again?

  "Lilia?” he whispered, gathering more salve on his curled fingers and starting to apply it, this time to her shoulder. “You asleep?"

  "No. Just thinking."

  Her
voice was strangely blank, and Vincent began to reflect on what he knew she was thinking. He was rather certain Nathanael had caused her injuries, the ones in front of him as well as the ones in Moscow she had been about to mention.

  "Thinking about what?” he asked, feigning ignorance and casualness, both very badly.

  "I felt him die,” she replied, so quiet he might not have heard the words if he hadn't been just above her. “I knew I would, I mean, that's one of the things about a vamp being a Childe rather than just a minion, but it still surprised me. I can almost feel the void he left behind. It's very ... peculiar."

  For a moment, Vincent remained quiet, the calm of his hand as he spread the salve completely at odds with the chaotic thoughts in his mind. He could see, as though it were still happening in front of him, Lilia ceasing to fight and closing her eyes as Nathanael had been about to stake her, as he, Vincent, had prepared to stake him. Had she conceded to her imminent death at the hand of the one who had made her, or had she been refusing to watch her Sire die?

  "I had to do it,” he said at last, hating that his voice was trembling with nervousness about how she would reply. When had he ever wanted before to justify himself for killing a vampire? “If I hadn't, he would have killed you, and I..."

  For the first time, her eyes opened, and she raised her head from the pillow, just enough to look at him.

  "I know. I'm not blaming you for it. Just saying ... it feels weird. That's all."

  Vincent answered with a lopsided smile before returning his whole attention to what he was doing. Lilia's head sank back down to the pillow, and she relaxed under his touch, the tension in her body slowly melting away. Vincent was done with her right side from the middle of her back to her shoulder and he carefully shifted on the bed to kneel on the other side of her body.