“We did that too, often. Snow usually remains on the ground for about six months of the year in our valley.”
He laughed and placed the remaining blood on the ground beside her. “Luckily it didn’t last that long where we were,” he replied.
“What else did you do for fun?”
He rested his palm against the wall. “We’d go swimming, hunting, climb trees, and play jokes on each other and my father.”
The mention of his father didn’t bring the acute, nearly crippling grief it used to bring to his heart, but only a sense of melancholy at what could have been if he’d survived. So many things had happened he wished to share with him, so many conversations he longed to have. His father had been the wisest man he knew; there wasn’t a day he didn’t miss him. He often longed for just one more day, but it was not to be, and he’d come to accept that more over the last year and a half, though he knew he would miss him forever.
“It sounds like fun,” she said.
“Some days it really was, but we always knew we’d grow up to fight against the oppression we lived under.”
“You never had a choice on that?”
“If we did it was a choice we were never going to take. None of us would have walked away from the fight.”
Without realizing it, she lifted her fingers and began to bite at her nails as she stared across the cave. He’d come to realize she often didn’t know she was doing it. “I never considered leaving our village.” Pulling her hand away from her mouth, she scowled at her fingers before putting her hand into her lap and clasping it there. “I never really wanted to either. Many of the children in the home grew up and took off. There was nothing keeping them there, but it was the only home I’d ever known, and Pallas is the closest friend I’ve ever had.”
“She didn’t want to leave either?”
“No, she felt like I did, and we both doubted there was much out there for two orphans with no money and no real power to speak of.”
“I can understand that.”
“I’ve also never been overly adventurous.”
“Until you decided to climb a mountain and walk through a blizzard.”
She gave a little laugh. “Yeah, until then.”
The shuffle of Achilles hooves drew his attention to the horse. He walked away from her and toward the mouth of the cave to care for him.
- CHAPTER 13 -
The next day, William kept the hood close against his face as he trudged through the knee-high snow. Drifts of it were everywhere on the open plain, he’d already had the misfortune of stepping into one that had caused the snow to rise to his chest. The driving flakes stung when they hit his chilled skin; the wind howled as relentlessly as wolves on the scent of prey. Beside him, Tempest walked onward without complaint, her head bowed against the storm and her hair tucked beneath her hood.
Resting her hand on his arm, she drew his attention away from the snow as she pointed up a craggy hill. The pointed edges of some boulders poked out from the top of a mound of snow. He studied the set of rocks before walking with her up the hill. Behind the boulders, burrowed into the side of a rock wall they discovered a little den. The scent of fox wafted up to him before he knelt in the snow to dig through it.
He dug almost four feet down before uncovering the animals, hidden within the shelter of the rocks. The first one squirmed and bit at him when he pulled it free. The idea of frightening the animal bothered him more than intimidating the human in the tavern had.
As a human, he’d hunted animals in order to survive, and he did so now as a vampire. The only difference was he didn’t always have to kill them in order to feed now. He’d feel less guilty about striking down a human than an animal if they were standing in his way. He didn’t know what that said about him anymore, and he didn’t want to think about it.
He handed the animal over to Tempest before reaching in and pulling the second fox free. His hands ran over the velvety fur in an attempt to soothe the animal in some small way. Sinking his fangs into the creature’s neck, he welcomed the rush of warm blood filling his mouth. He greedily drank it down, easing the hunger churning in his gut. The fox’s fur tickled the inside of his mouth, its musky scent filled his nostrils, but he ignored them both as he welcomed the potent wave of life filling his body. Across from him, Tempest’s eyes closed while she consumed the blood of the other fox.
William pulled the animal away from him, gave his coat a pat and placed him back in the den. The animal’s eyes hung half closed, its heart had slowed, but it would survive the blood loss. He didn’t tell Tempest what to do, didn’t try to take the other animal from her, she would do what she had to, but she still pulled the animal away before she impaired it too much. His eyes latched onto her mouth when her tongue slid out to lick the blood from her lips before she placed the animal into the hole.
William pushed the snow back into place, took hold of her hand and rose to his feet. Her hand was small within his and delicate. Her smooth flesh was so different than the callouses and scars covering his hands. He couldn’t stop his fingers from sliding over the bones in the back of her hand. Her head came up to his, her mouth pursed questioningly.
He jerked his head to indicate heading back the way they’d come and forced himself to release her hand. The bow bounced against his back as he made his way down the hill. The snow kicked up around him as patches of it skidded out beneath him on the rocks underneath. They were almost to the bottom of the hill when he detected a different sound over the incessant wind.
Spinning, he grabbed hold of Tempest’s arm just as something emerged from the blinding white of the day. The figure flashed in and out between the downdrafts and gusts kicking the snow up around them. William jerked the bow from his back as the snow cleared enough to reveal the pale, bald creature rushing toward them.
Tempest let out a startled cry; William pushed her back as he nocked an arrow against the bow and took aim at what he barely recognized as a man anymore. Lifting the arrow, he took into account the wind, but knew there was no way to predict when a strong gust might surge across the land. He had to wait until the man got closer before he could take the chance of shooting.
The man was only five feet away when William let the arrow fly. The wind drowned out the twang of the bowstring and the whistle of the arrow as it flew through the air into the creature’s chest. It squealed as it flipped backwards into the snow. Its hands clawed at the arrow protruding from its chest. Its feet kicked and beat against the snow-covered ground. Striding forward, William pulled a stake free from the loop inside his cloak before arriving at the creature’s side. It didn’t matter though; the arrow had flown straight into the vampire’s heart.
He stood for a minute, watching it in its death throes before bending down and yanking the arrow free of its chest. The vibrant red of the blood seeping from the fatal wound didn’t prick his appetite; instead, it brought back memories of screams and terror, of the scent of death in battle. Shaking his head, he cleared it of the images as he wiped the arrow in the snow and slid it back into his quiver.
“What is that?” Tempest inquired as she stared down at the bald, barely clad body lying on the ground. Its skin was almost as white as the snow surrounding it.
“A vampire.”
Her eyes flew up to his. He stared at her for a minute before focusing on the swirling white world around them. His gaze darted around in search of the others that were most likely out there, on the loose and starving.
“What happened to it?” she inquired.
“Starvation. This is what the ones in Chester looked like.” Her head snapped back and forth between him and the dead vampire. He wrapped his hand around her elbow, tugging her away from the body. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”
He led her the rest of the way down the hill and across the open plains again. He struggled to see through the swirling snow and to sense anything of menace hiding in the storm. Her name made perfect sense if this was what the weather had been l
ike the night she’d been left on the doorstep.
He couldn’t imagine anyone abandoning her in such a way and during such a vulnerable time in her life. The orphanage may not have been the best place to grow up, but she would have died without it. He shuddered at the image of what a starving newborn or child would look like, or having to kill one. It was bad enough killing the adults.
The memory of Chester and the vampires he’d slaughtered there made his stomach twist. He’d lost track of time since he’d left the town and been caught up in the storm. He may only have another week to get word back to Aria before she came after him, something he couldn’t allow to happen, not after what Tempest had revealed. If Aria was killed or captured again because of him, he’d never forgive himself.
They had to get to that town and see what was going on; he had to have some information for his family, before they moved forward. He didn’t doubt what Tempest had told him; she’d have had no way to know he was out here or his relation to the queen before meeting him.
If someone had somehow known he’d taken this journey on his own, and been hoping to use him as leverage over his sister, they certainly would have sent more than one slender wisp of a woman to claim him. She’d been determined to get help for her town, still was, and there was no way she could have faked the utter devastation he’d seen on her face when she’d realized the extent of the danger the children in her town faced.
No, he believed everything she’d told him. Now he just had to get them out of here alive. He threw back his hood, no longer caring about the snow covering his head and sliding wetly down the back of his cloak to stick against his exposed neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw something moving amongst the blowing snow.
He pulled Tempest closer against his side and pulled another arrow free of his quiver. In this weather, the arrows would do him little good at far range, but he’d be able to slow those things down before they were on top of them. “Keep a watch behind us,” he told Tempest.
The wind tugged at her hood when she turned away from him, whipping it away from her face. This time, he knew they were being hunted when a brief cease of the wind allowed the snow to spiral about them in lazy flakes. He spotted three of the things on their right, following them through the snow. A gasp escaped Tempest; her hand clutched his arm.
“William,” she whispered.
“I see them. Stay by my side.” The warmth of her body pressed against his, a small tremor ran through her as he waited for them to creep closer. “You have to let go of my arm.”
“Oh.”
It had been necessary for him to have his arm free to shoot, but he immediately missed the contact with her when she let him go. If he could, he would pick her up and carry her from here as fast as he could run through the snow, but he knew any movement would only drive those things into a frenzied hunting mode.
His gaze constantly slid through the snow as he searched for a place to lead those things away from the cave. He planned to put them out of their misery as soon as they made a move, but if he killed them near the cave, the scent of their blood would attract more if they were in the area.
The wind picked up again, blowing the snow forcefully around them once more. The icy flakes stung his face and stuck to his lashes but he didn’t attempt to pull his hood up again. He had to have a broader range of vision so he could see the creatures hunting them. Motion to the right drew his attention. He pushed Tempest behind him with a subtle shift of his shoulder and took aim at the deformed vampire leaping at them from the storm.
The arrow flew through the air and embedded itself in the creature’s shoulder. William swiftly pulled another arrow free, notched it and let it fly. He’d broken many arrows and bows while trying to learn how to shoot again after his transformation, but he could release them much faster now than he’d ever been able to before. He just had to make sure he kept enough control so that he didn’t break his bow in half again.
The second arrow embedded in the vampire’s heart. He didn’t waste time watching the thing’s death throes, but spun around to face the creature he could sense coming at them from behind. Tempest ducked out of the way, as he released three arrows rapidly in a row, all of them embedding themselves in the vampire. The first two missed its heart by inches but the third struck home.
Another one came from the left, rushing at them out of the snow and honing in on Tempest. William threw the bow over his back and yanked a stake free as the creature’s hands seized hold of her arms. The blood filling the air had nothing to do with the bodies in the snow, and everything to do with the flesh of her forearms being torn open by the creature.
Red burst before his vision, turning the world into an entirely different hue. A roar tore from him. The complete unraveling into a bloodthirsty creature he’d endured a few times after being turned, took him over. Then, he’d unraveled because he’d let his hunger and anger get out of control; Aria had been able to help calm him with blood bags and by talking calmly with him. Now, death was the only thing that would calm the beast raging within him as he sought to destroy the thing hurting her in such a way.
His ears rang; saliva filled his mouth as bloodlust pulsed through him. His arm slid around Tempest’s waist, he pulled her back as the creature’s nails tore fresh gouges into her arms. Crimson blood stained the snow, but he couldn’t tell the difference between her blood and the haze coating his vision. He swung out with the hand holding the stake, slicing across the creature’s cheek as it lunged toward Tempest with its fangs fully extended.
The torn cheek fell open to reveal the jawbone and teeth beneath, but it didn’t slow him as his fangs snapped at Tempest. The sliced flesh flapped in the wind, the sight of it would have been almost comical if he hadn’t been so infuriated. He pulled back on Tempest, but the creature kept hold of her in some kind of crazy tug-o-war that spilled more of her blood and caused a cry of pain to escape her.
William leapt forward, swinging his elbow out and smashing it across the starving vamp’s face. It released a mewl when its sliced cheek was smashed up against its teeth and jawbone. Its hands slipped on Tempest but it still didn’t release her. Its ruby red eyes glowed, and William would bet money his eyes were the same color as the creature’s. He grabbed hold of the vamp’s head and yanked it to the side. Without thinking, he sank his fangs deep into its neck.
Blood sprayed into his mouth, it tasted worse than the pinecones he’d eaten one lean winter in the forest, but he didn’t release his bite. The creature howled, its fingers tore into the flesh of his arms, but he barely felt the rending of his skin. William ripped backward, tearing out the thing’s neck. He spat the fetid flesh and blood into the snow before driving his fist into the vampire’s nose. It caved beneath the force of the blow, but the vamp continued to claw at Tempest.
Letting him go, William adjusted his hold on the stake and swung it forward, driving it deep into the center of the thing’s chest. With a ferocious snarl, he gave the stake a savage twist and pushed it upward. Bone and cartilage broke as he shoved the stake through the vamp’s ribcage until it pierced its heart. The vampire finally released his hold on Tempest. It staggered backward in the snow, clawing at the stake protruding from its chest.
William’s chest heaved; his fangs throbbed with the urge to destroy more as he stood over the body of his victim. A hand rested on his arm, he almost turned to snap at it or to drive his stake into whoever had touched him, but he recognized the warmth of Tempest’s touch before he could turn on her like a rabid animal.
His shoulders relaxed, he inhaled a shaky breath as he labored to regain the rest of his composure. “Are you ok?” he inquired, keeping his head turned away from her so she couldn’t see the thin grasp he had over his control.
“Yes,” she replied. “They’re only scratches.”
He wanted to turn and make sure of that for himself, but he couldn’t let her see him like this. Warm blood ran from his mouth, down his neck, and cracked as it dried in the bristles of his be
ard. Bending down, he grabbed handfuls of snow and scrubbed at his face and neck to remove the evidence of his insanity. He didn’t rise until the snow he used to clean himself remained completely white.
Turning toward her, he braced himself for her condemnation and revulsion before looking at her. He knew what he’d done pushed the lines of what was acceptable to vampires, but then he sometimes forgot he was a vampire. He’d reacted on instinct and an overwhelming urge to make sure she stayed alive and unharmed.
Snow covered her hair, turning it nearly white. Her cheeks and nose were red from the wind and cold, her brown eyes vibrant against the snow coating her. He saw no disgust in her gaze, only concern as her eyes ran over him.
“Are you ok?” she asked and reached toward him.
Before she could touch his blood stained clothes, he clasped hold of her wrists. Pulling her arms forward, he held them out to inspect them. The shredded sleeves of her shirt flapped in the wind, beads of blood still formed on her flesh, but the gashes had healed to scratches now.
Reassured she was fine, and he was in control again, he lifted his head to look into her eyes. They shone with concern as they met his. He didn’t deserve her concern; she didn’t deserve any of this. She’d endured difficult times, but she was practically an innocent in the brutality of the world. He’d spent his entire life learning how to become a killer, and he was good at it.
She should have been able to keep her innocence, but the vampires who had invaded her town had taken that choice from her. Now all he could hope was to keep as much of the brutality from her as possible.
He brushed the snow from the hood of her cloak before tugging it over her head. Turning away, he jerked the stake from the one he’d just killed before collecting the arrows from the others. He studied the swirling snow but didn’t see anything else out there, hunting them.
Clasping hold of her elbow, he kept Tempest close to his side as he hurried away from the bodies.