Page 129 of You’re So Vein

“C’mon, old girl.” Dante holds out a hand. “You never know, maybe there’s something truly exciting up there, like a stash of ancient scrolls.”

“Scrolls? What scrolls? I love scrolls!” Irene slides out of the helicopter, followed by Beth.

I take one last look at Komal and leap onto the grass.

I’ve never been so relieved to place my feet in damp earth. Aishwarya’s roar fades as Komal banks away, the wind from the blades replaced by the noise of the gathering hurricane. Panic claws at my chest. Don’t leave me. Don’t go too far.

Dante tosses weapons to the unarmed. I unsheathe my two swords and race up the hill before my mind catches up with my body. My wingtips slip on the slick earth, but I stay upright. The world narrows to sound and scent and instinct. I smell Kael, and the presence of other vampires. I smell ancient, wet stone. I smell Hannah.

I smell blood.

My pulse thunders so loudly it drowns out the storm. If the others follow behind me, I no longer hear them. My whole body tenses, every sense straining for a single thing—

Hannah.

Her scream slices through me before I crest the hill. The sound is a memory – it’s her first lonely cry on the night of her birth, it’s every time she fell and scraped her knees or wailed in frustration when she couldn’t have something she wanted. It’s every waking nightmare I’ve had of failing to keep her safe.

My vision swims from the rain and the rage and the desperation, but I see her, splayed out over a flat stone altar in the centre of the towering stone circle, her arms and legs bound. Rain plasters her hair to her face. Her chest is bare where her shirt has been torn open, and a symbol has been carved into her flesh.

She’s covered in blood. The wound isn’t healing.

My heart stops.

Kael stands over her, his white priest’s robe edged with gold designs, sanctimonious and obscene. I’m dimly aware of others nearby, wearing the same robes.

The Ordo Exsecrati are real. Of course they are. Dhampir would be far more common without them.

He raises his blade. Thunder cracks overhead, rattling my ribcage.

He brings his sword down.

I don’t remember deciding to move. In one blink, that greatsword falls towards my precious daughter’s heart. In the next, steel shrieks as I catch Kael’s blade with both of mine, thrusting my swords skywards to deflect the strike. The impact jars up my arms.

I roar and push and rage, slamming him with everything I have. It’s been so long since I’ve used a sword, not since Dante trained me at court, but I have to get Kael away from her.

Kael stumbles back off the altar, but he lands gracefully on his feet. He grins as he rounds on me, blood and rain dribbling down his face.

“Look who’s come swooping in like the father of the year,” he sneers. “I’ve been waiting to carve you to pieces since I got here, blood traitor. You and that abomination you call a daughter.”

“You’ll not touch her again.” The words tear from me, raw and wild. My tendrils burst through my skin, curling upward and outward, creating a living cage around me and Hannah.

Only then do I glance down at Hannah. I have to see her. I have to know what he’s done to her.

Her eyes are wide with terror, her chest shuddering with every breath. The wounds on her chest weep blood, and the bonds that hold her are covered in more symbols. Magic, holding her in place. Some sort of ritual.

She shivers, straining against her bonds. But she’s alive.

Relief hits me so hard that my knees start to buckle. But we’re not free yet. I stand above her, using my body as a shield, and cut a gap in my vines so I can slash at Kael.

He darts away, cackling, delighted by my fury. In the corner of my vision, I see other white shapes moving among the stones. More Upyr in robes like Kael’s. Kael must have brought them all here to witness Hannah’s execution. Swords clash as Dante, Irene and Callista meet them.

I flick my tendrils out, whipping them across Kael’s skin like a cruel horse master. They draw blood where they touch him, but the wounds heal in an instant. Kael slices and whips, cutting them off as quickly as I can grow more, and what’s worse, he’s getting through my guard, his sword nicking and cutting shallow wounds into me. He tosses back his head and laughs as the pain riddles my body. Lightning splinters overhead, freezing the battlefield in the violent white light. In that instant of clarity, I see the futility of our fight.

Callista steps over a pile of white-robed corpses, drawing her sword from the chest of one of them. But her sword arm hangs wrong. She quickly switches her weapon to the other hand and faces the next warrior, her jaw clenched, her eyes feral. But she’s fighting two to one and even the Lady of Agony can be overwhelmed.

Dante and Irene fight back-to-back, protecting each other as they face a circle of Ordo Exsecrati, utterly outmatched. They are neither of them fighters, and they’re up against Upyr who’ve trained under Kael. From the speed and stealth of their movements, I can tell that these are ancient vampires who have honed their skills over centuries. Even Alaric would have trouble.

I may have the advantage of two blades and righteous, fatherly rage surging through my veins, but Kael is a Nightshade vampire who lives for battle and bloodlust.