His voice never changed, never trembled or showed pain. His hand, inside Sergey's chest seeking the blackened heart, was met with razor-sharp intestines, twisting and pulling around his fist, biting deep into the skin, acid blood pouring over him like molten-hot lava, but he was every bit as relentless as Sergey, refusing to back away.
«I do not mind dying, han ku vie elidet-thief of life. What of you? Are you prepared for your final justice?»
The undead did not respond, and instead continued to rip and tear great chunks of flesh from Razvan's shoulder and neck. Ivory burst into the room, firing the crossbow, the first coated arrow hitting Sergey in his eye. She fired as she ran, hitting his throat as his head arched back. The third went into the open mouth, lodging in the throat. Sergey screamed, his voice so high-pitched the glass in the windows exploded. He jerked backward, taking Razvan with him, one arm shifting until it took on the shape of the beak of a hungry raptor.
As the beak clamped down around Razvan's arm, viciously slicing through flesh and bone, cutting it completely in two, the vampire hissed at him. «I will cut you in pieces and feed them to the wolves, and then I will devour those children.»
Razvan staggered back. Blood sprayed across the room. Sergey gripped the stump of Razvan's forearm and yanked, drawing the fist from his chest and dropping it on the floor, kicking it away in disgust. The vampire jerked at the arrow in this throat and hurled it toward Razvan with tremendous force.
Razvan moved with blurring speed, his one hand shooting out to catch the metal shaft in midair, reverse it and slam it down hard on the top of the vampire's foot, driving the arrow through the top all the way to the floor.
We have to slow him down. He will go after the children just for spite.
«Get away from him!» Ivory warned.
«Too late,» Sergey snarled.
Even as Ivory leapt to cross the distance between them, Sergey whirled, a long sword in his hand. He sliced across Razvan's shoulder and down his chest, carving more pieces. Razvan staggered and went down. Sergey slammed the blade toward his ankle. She met blade with blade, the force going up her arm and through her body as sparks flew and the sound rang in her ear. Razvan was eerily silent, but his hand gripped a knife of his own as he waited an opportunity to aid her.
Sergey laughed, the sound cruelly malicious. «I will chop him up, piece by piece, as they did you, and I will feed them to your own wolf pack. I might let you live, sister dear, just to see you weep for the loss of your lifemate. You must learn who is strong and who is weak. You are on the wrong side. Join me. Let us cut him up together and I might spare you.»
Ivory's heart pounded. Her body jerked in response to the sight of her lifemate's body in pieces. There was a hole in his chest and his arm was in two pieces, slices through his shoulder and chest and one leg, his blood a terrible fountain, pouring over the floor.
Ivory knew that the vampire was the vilest of all creatures. The one before her no longer even resembled her brother, although he tried to keep up the illusion with the hope that it would cause her pain and make her hesitate, throwing off her aim. He had deliberately chosen to tear at a child's flesh and to hack Razvan into pieces, bringing forth some of their worst nightmarish memories to make the battle all the more difficult. She gripped her sword harder and stepped between her lifemate and the undead who had once been a beloved brother.
«Kill me, then. But I am taking you with me.»
CHAPTER 9
The vampire jerked the remaining arrows from his body and tossed them contemptuously onto the floor. «So be it,» Sergey said and thrust his sword straight toward her stomach.
Ivory parried, jumping to the side. Too late she realized the vampire had deliberately driven her away from Razvan. She lunged back, but Sergey struck again, slicing through Razvan's leg a second time, the cut deep enough to go through bone. Her blade raced toward the vampire's skull, but he dissolved and materialized across the room.
Stop thinking about me and fight him the way you always fight.
In the moment that Razvan spoke, every agonizing stroke of the blade flooded back to her, as the vampires chopped her into pieces much the same way Sergey was doing to Razvan. Methodically. Relentlessly. Mercilessly.
Do not try to save me. Think only of killing him.
I cannot defeat him. He was a great warrior. He taught me to fight. He is a master vampire. Even our strongest hunters rarely can defeat them alone.
Who better than you to fight him? You know his every move before he makes it. You have changed over the centuries. He will be expecting that young woman he taught, not the seasoned warrior you have become. He is preying on your emotions. Do not be tricked by one such as he. You are a great warrior, and you, better than any other, can defeat him.
Around them the house began to shake, the walls undulating and breaking apart so that debris rained down on the vampire. Ivory knew Razvan couldn't move with his agonizing, mortal wounds, but was buying her time to regroup, using what remaining energy he had, not to attempt to burrow into the ground, but rather to use his powers to aid her.
Ivory took a deep breath and let it out. Razvan may have been inexperienced, but he had the heart and soul of a warrior-like she did. Never had she seen another warrior so courageous, so stoic. She took another deep breath and let it out, allowing a mantle of calm to settle over her. Razvan was right. She could not allow her feelings to interfere with her primary job. She was a warrior first, a woman second.
She forced herself to look only at the vampire-to see only the vampire. As long as she could keep Sergey focused on her and away from Razvan, she might be able to keep her lifemate alive and slay the vampire. What weapons could be used against this master? Vanity was the one trait that not only all the undead shared, but her brothers in particular.
She changed her appearance subtly, very slowly, softening her features to take on a younger, more girlish look-as in the old days, long before the centuries had passed, when her brothers had loved and cherished her more than their own egos.
Sergey lifted his sword and touched it to his forehead in a mock salute, allowing her to see Razvan's blood running down the blade to the hilt. The ruby drops coated his hand and, with his gaze locked with hers, he licked at the blood.
Her stomach knotted, but she tilted her head to one side and laughed, a taunting, tinkling sound, like that of a young, giddy girl. «You have grown old, Sergey. I thought with all your intelligence and experience, you would become, at the very least, a master vampire, one so powerful it would take our strongest hunters to ban together to defeat you. Yet here you are, struggling to vanquish a woman, your baby sister.»
His eyes glowed with fire. She could actually see tiny flames burning in the dark depths. She had been correct in thinking the way to shake him was through his enormous ego. Sergey swung the sword at her neck, slicing through the air with such force that when she ducked and ran her own sword into his side, the momentum from his swing actually carried him away from her. He screamed, the sound a mixture of pain and rage.
The floor erupted beneath her feet, splintering, so that she nearly fell through. But thanks to her many lessons from her brothers, she was dancing out of the way of the falling floorboards. She could smell the rich soil beckoning from the various holes in the floor.
«Oh dear, you have gotten slow, haven't you? You are nothing more than a weak, withered shadow of your former self. In the days past, one look from you would have crushed me, let alone the might of your sword, but now you play games like the puny coward you are, the way a shriveled and fading old man might play chess with trembling fingers and a mind forgetting the moves.»