Glaive
laughed, tossing back his head. Fangs descended as his followers
gathered around them in a circle.
"You'll
be dead before you cover the six feet between us."
Dirk
eyed the circle of vampires, glaring at each in turn. Some flinched
away, others met his glare with their own. Fangs dropped, eyes glazed
black. He smiled.
"Always
getting your toadies to kill for you. I'll drop you before they get
anywhere near me. Whoever survives that will deal with Rafaela."
She
drew her own blades, kicking her skirt aside. Armed with a short
sword and the new dagger, she stood back to back with Dirk. There was
no sign of Seth. He'd used the distraction to set the device. She
sensed him nearby, moving through the crowd silently.
The
knot of vampires eased back, distancing themselves from their Lord.
Only a few stood their ground. Of these, Dirk recognized several from
the first fight 127 years ago. He'd wounded them all and knew they
had a special ax to grind with him. All the more fun taking them
down. He sized up their opponents. Most of them weren't much of a
threat, but a few were quite dangerous.
The
servants scurried in, freeing the slaves from the fountains. If there
was to be a free for all, they didn't need doped up humans in the
middle of it all.
"Shall
we dance?" Glaive asked, bowing to his brother.
Dirk
didn't take his eyes off his brother, nor did he bow. Instead, he
took his fighting stance, prepared for whatever came at him. He
sensed Rafaela doing the same behind him.
Glaive
didn't waste time circling his opponent. Instead, he went immediately
on the offensive, attacking Dirk with his sword. His style had
improved in the last century, but his over indulgent ways and heavy
costume, slowed him slightly. It was enough to give Dirk an
advantage. Their blades clanged and shushed against one another.
Over
his shoulder, Dirk heard Rafaela chuckle as the first vampire
attacked her. It was a big fellow named Orvis. He'd been another of
the soldiers the day they were turned, Glaive's first offspring and
eminently loyal. Dirk wondered, fleetingly, how loyal he'd be once he
tasted Rafaela's silver edged steel. A yelp from Orvis told him she'd
found a target.
Dirk
blocked a series of vicious blows from Glaive. What he lacked in
finesse, he made up for in pure, raw power. His blows made Dirk's arm
tingle. Tired of the banging about, he whipped his blade in a furious
arc, slashing his brother's sword arm just above the elbow. Glaive
snarled, leaping at Dirk. His jump was ill timed and Dirk shoved him
away, slashing at him once more.
"Stop
playing," Rafaela said from his left. "I've killed two and
gutted another and you're still playing who's the bigger jackass."
Dirk
slashed at his brother once more, catching him across the chest. He
realized the reason he hadn't dispatched Glaive yet was that he hoped
his brother could be redeemed. He wanted to give him another chance.
Hadn't he taught him to ride as a boy? He'd shown him how to aim a
bow and tickle trout. He couldn't equate the face before him with an
animal, he saw only the straw haired boy he'd been.
"Dirk,
can you handle it?" Rafaela grunted. Another vampire slid off
her blade, crumbling to the ground. She now had four kills to his
none.
The
circle grew thinner once more as a few more vampires abandoned their
Lord. Roaring, Glaive sprung over Dirk's head, landing in Rafaela's
blind spot behind her left shoulder. He grabbed her around the
throat, fangs down, ready to rip out her carotid artery. Dirk swung
around, a growl rumbling in his throat.
"You're
fond of this one. I see it in every line of you." He inhaled
deeply, smelling Rafaela's hair. "I smell you on her." He
licked her from shoulder to earlobe.
Rafaela
stiffened, waiting. Too many of the vampires had left. They had to
come back or the bomb would be a waste. She sensed them closing in
once more, thinking their Lord had the advantage. Dirk panted,
glaring at his brother, fangs down, eyes black.
"You
don't want to do that," he snarled.
"But
I really do," Glaive laughed. "Because it would destroy you
to see her die. Your pretty plaything is helpless."
"My
pretty plaything killed five of your men. The only reason she hasn't
killed you yet is because I asked to be the one to do it. But if you
don't let go of her, I'll let her."
Glaive
laughed, his arm tight against Rafaela's throat. He held her own
dagger to her neck insead of his fangs.
"I
tell you what," Dirk said. "I'm going to leave you to her
tender mercy. I can't kill you. You're my brother."
"I
could kill you easily. It's more fun to play with you and show you
how pathetic you really are."
"You're
right, Glaive. You're the strong one. Goodbye, Rafe. I love you."
His nod was barely perceptible.
©
Dellani Oakes 2017
No comments:
Post a Comment