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Moving so quickly that her body was a shiny black blur in the night, she advanced and kicked. She kicked with the force of a thundering freight train, and the unbelievable pain of it buckled my knees. I hit the ground, unable to catch a breath, unable to think or feel or react to anything but the crushing pain in my chest. A single kick shouldn't have hurt so much, but my God, did it. A screaming, ripping pain that made me wonder that I'd ever doubted Celina Desaulniers.
One hand braced to keep my face from hitting the ground, tears spilled over, and I gripped my chest with my free hand, to rip out the pain, to rip out the vise that was squeezing the air from my lungs. I struggled for breath, and a wave of pain, a morbid aftershock, convulsed my spine.
"Ethan did this to you."
I fought for air, looked up. She stood over me, hands on her hips.
I ground my fingers into the concrete, tunneled holes in the sidewalk, and tears pouring down my cheeks, watched her, hoping to God she wouldn't kick me again, wouldn't touch me again. Reminded myself - it was her plan. "No."
She bent down at the waist, put a fingertip beneath my chin, raised it up. I heard a growl, realized it was me, and when another shock rocked my body, realized that if she hit me again, I'd be completely unable to fight back.
One kick, and she'd brought me down, even after two months of training. She called my bluff, and had taken me down. Could I ever be as strong as she was? As fast? Maybe not. But I'd be damned if I'd crawl away like a wounded animal.
Then and there, I swore to myself that I would never be on my knees before her again.
Heaving for breath, I pushed my way up, one slow, devastating inch at a time, black fabric shredded around knees I'd bloodied when I fell to the ground. Celina watched, a predator enjoying the last licking sighs of a wounded animal.
Or maybe more accurately, alpha predator, enjoying her victory over a lesser female.
Slow, agonizing seconds later, I was standing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I cradled my ribs with my right hand, lifted my eyes to hers.
Bright, nearly indigo blue, they fairly twinkled with pleasure in the moonlight. "He did this to you," she said. "Caused this pain. If you weren't a vampire, if he hadn't made you - if he'd taken you to the hospital instead of changing you, converting you for his own purposes - you'd be in school. You'd be with Mallory. Everything would be the same."
I shook my head, but something about that sounded right.
Was it right?
In the midst of the pain, the fact that he'd saved me from her, from the killer she'd loosed on me, didn't cross my mind.
"Confront him, Merit. See what you're made of."
I shook my head. Mutiny. Rebellion. He was my Master. I couldn't fight him, wouldn't fight him. I'd already challenged him once, my first week as a vampire, and I'd failed. I'd lost.
"He left you here for me to find. They both did."
My ribs screamed, probably broken. Maybe internal bleeding. A punctured lung?
"All that effort," she said, "just to breathe. Imagine if it had been a real fight, Sentinel. All that work, all that practice, and what have you to show for it?" She cocked her head, as if waiting for me to answer, but then offered, "He didn't prepare you for me, did he?"
"Fuck you," I managed to get out, gripping my side.
She arched a carefully shaped black eyebrow. "Don't direct your ire at me, Sentinel, for teaching the lesson you needed. Blame Ethan. Your Master. The one who is supposed to care for you. Prepare you. Protect you."
I ignored the words, but shook my head anyway, tried to will myself to think, but it was becoming more difficult. The pain was blurring the borders, forcing the reconciliation between whatever humanity was left, whatever predator lived inside me. I didn't know what would happen if I let the vampire peek through, but I wasn't strong enough to hold her back, not with the pain. The instinct was too strong, my defenses too weak. I'd repressed her, and she was tired of being relegated to some deep, dark corner of my psyche. I'd been a vampire for nearly two months, but had managed to shield myself in the remnants of my humanity.
No more, the vampire screamed.
"Don't fight it," Celina said, a tinge of lusty voyeurism in her voice.
The pain was too much, the night too long, my inhibitions too low. I stopped fighting it. I let it go.
I let her breathe.
I let her out.
She burst through my blood, the power of the vampire flowing through me, and as I kept my eyes on Celina, locked my limbs to keep from staggering back from the surge of it, I felt myself disassociate. I felt her move my body, stretch and test muscles inside my body - and sink into it.
Merit disappeared.
Morgan disappeared.
Mallory disappeared.
All the fear, the hurt, the resentment, of failing friends and lovers and teachers, of disappointing those I was supposed to care for, of ruining relationships. The discomfort of no longer knowing who I really was, what role I was supposed to play in this world -
all of it disappeared.
For a moment, in its place, a vacuum. The undeniable appeal of nothingness, of the absence of hurt.
And then, the sensations I hadn't known I'd been waiting two months for.
The world accelerated, burst into music.
The night sang - voices and cars and gravel and screaming and laughter. Animals hunting, people chatting, fighting, f**king. A raven flew overhead. The night glowed -
moonlight bringing everything into sharper relief.
The world was noisy - sounds and smells I'd apparently missed out on over the last two months, the senses of a predator.
I looked at Celina, and she smiled. Grinned victoriously.
"You've lost your humanity," she said. "You'll never get it back. And you can't defend yourself. You know who's to blame."
I meant to stay silent, to say nothing, but I heard myself answer her, ask her, "Ethan?"
A single nod, and, as if her task was accomplished, Celina smoothed her shirt, turned and walked into the shadows. Then she was gone.
The world exhaled.
I glanced back and saw, only yards away, the glow of the breach in the Cadogan gate.
He was there.
I took a step, ribs still screaming.
I wanted someone else to hurt.
I began walking. We began walking, the vampire and I, back to Cadogan House.
At the gate, the guards let me pass, but I could hear the whispers, could hear them talking, reporting me to the vampires inside.
The front lawn was empty, the door ajar. I took the steps slowly, one at a time, a hand on my ribs, the pain a little less, the healing begun, but still profound enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Inside, the House was silent, the few vampires frozen, staring as I moved between them, determined, my predatory eyes slitted against the harshness of electric lights.
