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they needed to. When fighting a vampire, Beck knew it was more
important to rely on his fighting instincts than his eyes. Sometimes a
vamp could move faster than the eye could track. It came down to
anticipating the next move. Vampires were immensely logical
creatures. They trained and tended to do everything by the book. It
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was why Dante had trouble fitting in. Dante thought more creatively.
In this case, the vampires’ slavish devotion to the method came in
handy.
In his mind, Beck numbered them One through Fifteen. Eight had
tumbled straight into Two across the ring the vampires had formed.
Both were struggling to get to their feet. It gave Beck a chance to
concentrate on the next assault. It would come from Twelve and Five.
Beck thrust out with his sword, catching Twelve in the belly as he
kicked out in perfect precision, shoving Five back. He twisted his
body slightly to take out Ten and Three in the same fashion.
Instinct took over as his sword bloodied. He no longer thought
about Meg or Dante or even Cian. He and the sword moved in perfect
precision. The blade became a simple extension of his being. Beck
relaxed, letting his hearing confirm the order in which his brain told
him they would attack. He danced as they attacked, his sword finding
purchase in their strong bodies. Every time he sank the steel into
another body, his hunger grew. He wanted to kill. The horn blared,
calling an end to this round of fighting. It was an intrusive sound.
Beck breathed deeply, fighting the instinct to attack the little
gnomes as they ran onto the field to pull off the injured competitors
who called for quarter. He wanted to skewer the little ones. They
would look good on his blade, the dark voice in his head whispered. It was their fault. They had walked onto his killing field. They should expect death. They were dragging off his prey before he even had a
chance to finish them. It was his right. He turned to raise his sword
