Years of training and countless drills on vampire weaknesses had been ingrained into my muscle memory.
None of it had prepared me for this.
My chest tightened. I kept moving down a different corridor, faster now. Every shadow made me flinch, but I pushed forward. Left, left, left. My legs ached, a dull throb that matched the pounding in my skull. The air down here was stale, pressing against my lungs with each breath.
I’d stopped twice to sip from my flask and eat a ration bar. All the while, I worried for Finn. He was wandering these same passages. Had he run into a pack of monsters as well?
My vision swam at the edges. Fatigue was truly setting in. Twelve hours had passed, maybe? Fourteen?
The corridors grew narrower. There was another scream ahead, this one male. Closer. Was that Finn? I broke into a run, my caution abandoned. The corridor opened into a wider chamber. Two vampires lay shredded, blood still pooling beneath them. Glass bottles glinted at the far end on another stone pedestal.
No, not Finn. Thanks be to Aetherius.
Two hairless creatures crouched over the corpses, their heads buried in the ravaged flesh. The wet sound of feeding filled the room. My stomach lurched. I swallowed hard, bile burning the back of my throat.
Behind me, something breathed. Wet. Rasping.
I spun, blade raised, my hand trembling despite my tight grip. Another one of the humanoid monsters appeared, its head cocked at an unnatural angle. Tattered clothes hung from its elongated frame. When it opened its mouth, rows of needle teeth glinted in the sconce light. Ice flooded my veins at the sight.
It lunged.
I ran.
My leg muscles screamed in protest after hours of walking. The creature’s claws scraped against the stone behind me. I veered left, then right, lungs heaving, breath ragged.
The corridor cut off in a dead end. A stone wall loomed before me, moss covering part of its surface. I whirled around, pressing my back against it. The creature rounded the corner, straightened to its full height, and advanced with deliberate slowness.
The dagger felt laughably small in my grip as I held it in front of me. The tip wavered from the tremor of my hand.
The creature swiped, and I dodged left. Its claws scraped across my leather armor.
I wasn’t fast enough to avoid its second swipe. Claws grazed my upper arm, tearing through fabric and flesh.
Pain flared, bright and searing. I gasped and lashed out at it in return. The rupture-coated steel opened a gash along its arm, but the creature didn’t flinch.
It backhanded me. My skull cracked against stone, and the world tilted, vision bleaching at the edges. Warmth spilled down my temple, thick and slow. I wiped at it with trembling fingers.
There was throbbing behind my eyes, pulsing with every beat of my heart. The creature loomed, its shadow stretching, arm rising for the final strike.
I shoved my hand against the wall, trying to rise. My palm sank into something soft—moss.
The stone shifted beneath it, and I fell through the wall.
A magical sensation burned, stinging my skin with icy needles. I hit the ground on the other side. Renewed agony exploded through my arm and skull. I scrambled backward on my elbows, smearing blood on the floor.
I cast a frantic look around. The wall had been solid. My chest heaved, each breath sharp and ragged.Where is the monster?
The creature’s head pushed through the wall, its empty eyes fixed on me. It reached for me, claws extended.
The wall solidified around it with a squelchingthwip. The monster’s mouth opened in a silent cry. Cracks spiderwebbed across its body, starting where the stone had reformed through it. Parts began to fall away. An arm, its head, chunks of its torso, all hitting the ground with wet thuds. Within seconds, it dissolved into black ichor.
I caught my breath, staring at the wall that had just saved my life. After wiping the blood from my face, I pressed my hand against the stone—solid, cold, unyielding. When my fingers brushed moss, the rock beneath it shifted.
I jerked my hand back. The moss. Yet I’d touched it before. I stared at my hand, at the faint tint of crimson coating it, then back at the moss. I placed my clean hand on another patch. Nothing. Then I wiped my forehead again and used my bloodied hand. The stone wavered.
Blood on the moss allows me to pass through the wall.
My head continued to ache with a dull throb. The bleeding had stopped, and to my relief, the heat of my dhampir healing kicked in.
