Page 3

3

DANTE

Everything goes to hell.

Gaida turns to find her father already on his feet, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead, his eyes blazing with fury. Before either of us can react, he lunges forward with preternatural speed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

“This ends now,” he snarls, grabbing Gaida’s wrist with enough force to make her gasp.

I move instinctively with vampire speed, but something invisible slams into me mid-stride, sending me sprawling across the scorched earth. The impact drives the air from my lungs, jagged rubble cutting into my palms.

Aurelius doesn’t even spare me a glance, his focus entirely on Gaida as she struggles against his grip.

My vision tints red with rage. I push myself up, only to be knocked back again by another wave of invisible force. Whatever magick he’s wielding, it’s ancient and powerful. But he doesn’t understand the lengths I’ll go to protect her.

I grab the stake, which is always hidden at my back, the wood smooth against my palm. With a roar that calls on every drop of pureblood DuLoc heritage flowing through my veins, I hurl myself against the invisible barrier. The magick shatters like glass under the force of my determination, sending ripples of energy across the courtyard.

Aurelius’s head snaps toward me, genuine surprise flashing across his aristocratic features. His momentary distraction loosens his grip on Gaida, who twists free and stumbles backwards. The ancient vampire’s eyes narrow, assessing me with newfound caution. Gone is the dismissive contempt he usually reserves for me. In its place, a predator’s cold calculation.

I don’t waste time with words. I charge, stake aimed at his heart. Gaida moves away, understanding without being told that this is my fight now. Her eyes never leave us, but she keeps her distance, as I protect her.

Aurelius sidesteps my attack with fluid grace, catching my wrist and twisting until tendons strain. Pain shoots up my arm, but I refuse to release the stake. Instead, I drop my weight suddenly, using his grip as leverage to swing my entire body around. My knee connects with his side, the impact reverberating through my leg.

Something cracks – not in me, but in him. Aurelius hisses, momentarily thrown off balance, but recovers with the speed that comes from countless centuries of combat. His counterattack is blindingly fast, his fist connecting with my ribs with enough force to crack bone.

White-hot pain explodes through my chest, but the DuLoc blood in my veins is fully awakened now. Pain is secondary. Survival is all that matters.

He clasps my throat in an iron grip, lifting me off the ground until my feet dangle uselessly. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as his fingers crush my windpipe. Most would panic, flailing uselessly against superior strength. Instead, I go limp, a dead weight in his grasp.

Confusion flickers across his face for just an instant – enough. I drive both feet into his stomach with every ounce of strength I possess. The blow connects solidly, forcing him back a step and breaking his hold.

I drop to the ground, gulping air into my starved lungs, never taking my eyes off him. The stake remains clutched in my fist, slick with my blood but secure.

Aurelius circles slowly, reassessing. There’s a tear in his suit jacket, a dark stain spreading where my knee connected. First blood to me. His lips curl in a snarl that’s more animal than aristocrat now.

He lunges with blinding speed, but something has changed in me. The world slows, movements becoming clearer, more predictable. I sidestep his charge by a hair’s breadth, using his momentum against him. As he passes, I slice the stake across his back, opening a long gash through expensive fabric and ancient flesh.

Aurelius roars in pain and fury, whirling to face me with fangs fully extended. Gone is any pretence of civility or restraint. The creature before me now is pure predator, ancient and deadly.

He unleashes a barrage of strikes, each capable of shattering concrete. I block what I can, dodge what I can’t, and absorb the rest. A blow to my shoulder sends me staggering backwards. Another catches me across the jaw, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. A third cracks another rib, the pain nearly blinding.

But for every hit I take, I land one in return. My elbow smashes into his temple. My knee finds his solar plexus. The stake slices across his bicep, drawing black blood that sizzles when it hits the ground.

We break apart, both breathing heavily, both bleeding from multiple wounds. The courtyard around us bears witness to our battle. Cracked stone, splashes of blood, both red and black, the ground itself scorched from magickal backlash.

Aurelius wipes black blood from his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine. For the first time in our new, yet antagonistic, relationship, I see something new in his gaze – respect, however grudging. It changes nothing.

I adjust my grip on the stake, circling opposite him. The real battle is only beginning.

He attacks again, this time with calculated precision rather than blind rage. His open palm strikes at pressure points, targeting nerve clusters that would drop a normal vampire instantly. But the DuLoc blood flowing through me responds to the threat, hardening muscle and redirecting pain.

I weather the assault, taking damage but remaining upright, mobile, dangerous. When he overextends on a strike aimed at my throat, I duck under his arm and drive my shoulder into his chest. The impact sends us both crashing into a broken column, stone crumbling further under our combined weight.

We grapple in the rubble, rolling across jagged stone. He’s stronger, but I’m fighting for more than just myself. Every time he gains an advantage, I counter with desperate innovation. When he pins me, I use the broken stones around us as weapons. When he tries to sink his fangs into my throat, I headbutt him with enough force to crack his nose.

Black blood streams down his aristocratic face, marring the perfect features generations of vampires have feared. His hands find my throat again, thumbs pressing into my windpipe with devastating pressure. Stars explode across my vision as oxygen depletes.

With my free hand, I scrabble among the rubble, fingers closing around a jagged piece of marble. I smash it against the side of his head, the impact enough to dislodge his grip. Air rushes back into my lungs, sweet and vital.

Aurelius staggers sideways, momentarily dazed. I don’t waste the opening, driving my knee into his side where I’d struck him earlier. Something gives beneath the blow – a rib, perhaps, or something more vital. His face contorts with genuine pain.

Before I can press the advantage, he retaliates with centuries of combat experience. His elbow catches me under the chin, snapping my head back. The world spins sickeningly. His follow-up strike hits my damaged ribs with surgical precision, the pain so intense it momentarily whites out my vision.

When clarity returns, I’m on my knees, the stake still miraculously in my grip. Aurelius stands over me, blood running from multiple wounds, his perfect composure in tatters, but still terrifyingly powerful.

“Stay down,” he warns, voice ragged from exertion.

I spit blood onto the scorched earth between us, my response requiring no words.

His foot lashes out, catching me in the chest and sending me sprawling backwards. The impact drives the remaining air from my lungs, fresh agony blooming where broken ribs shift beneath skin. The stake clatters from my grasp, skidding across stone to rest just beyond reach.

Aurelius stalks forward, his movements slowed by injury but no less deadly. His eyes burn with the promise of a painful end. I scramble backwards, fingers searching desperately for the stake, finding only broken stone and ash.

Across the courtyard, Gaida screams my name. The sound cuts through the fog of pain and imminent defeat, reaching something primal within me.

As Aurelius reaches for me, something shifts in my blood. A surge of power unlike anything I’ve experienced before, as though every DuLoc ancestor who ever lived suddenly stands with me. My vision sharpens, pain recedes, strength flows into limbs that moments ago felt leaden.

I roll sideways as his hand descends, the movement faster than should be possible in my condition. My fingers close around the stake.

Aurelius adjusts instantly, pivoting to keep me in his sights. But I’m moving differently now, with a fluid grace that surprises me. I surge to my feet in one smooth motion, the stake almost singing in my grip.

We clash again, but the dynamic has shifted. I’m no longer merely surviving his attacks. I’m matching them. For every strike he launches, I counter with one of my own. For every evasion he attempts, I adjust to maintain pressure.

The stake slices across his cheek, opening a gash that weeps black blood. He hisses in pain and fury, retaliating with a blow that would shatter concrete. I catch his wrist, redirecting the force rather than opposing it directly. His momentum carries him past me, and I use the opening to drive my elbow into his kidney.

Aurelius staggers forward, genuinely hurt now. I press the advantage, landing a series of strikes that force him further off-balance. With each successful hit, his expression shifts from confidence to concern to something approaching fear.

He summons another burst of magickal energy, the air rippling around him as he prepares to blast me sideways. But I’m ready this time. I drop beneath the wave of force, letting it pass harmlessly overhead, and drive the stake into his thigh.

Gaida screams.

Aurelius roars in pain, black blood gushing out. His leg buckles slightly, his perfect poise compromised. But just for a moment.

He attacks with raw power over technique as he throws everything into stopping me. His fist connects with my jaw, snapping my head back. His knee drives into my already damaged ribs. His elbow smashes against my collarbone with enough force to crack the bone.

I absorb the punishment, letting pain fuel me rather than hinder me. For every step he drives me back, I fight forward two more. Blood streams from a dozen wounds, my body operating on willpower alone, but I will not yield. Not while Gaida watches. Not while she needs me.

A lucky blow catches me in the temple, the world spinning violently around me. I stagger, nearly falling, vision blurring. Aurelius presses the advantage, his hands closing around my throat again, driving me backwards until my spine meets unyielding stone.

“Enough,” he growls, fangs fully extended. “This ends now.”

His grip tightens, crushing my windpipe with inexorable force. Black spots dance across my vision, expanding rapidly. My lungs burn for air that cannot pass his grip. The world dims around the edges, consciousness fading.

With a wild grin, I drive my knee upward with every ounce of remaining strength. It connects solidly with his groin, a blow so basic it catches him entirely off-guard. Aristocratic pride never prepared him for street fighting tactics.

His grip loosens reflexively, just enough for me to twist free and drive my forehead into his already damaged nose. Cartilage crunches beneath the impact, black blood spraying between us. Aurelius staggers backwards, momentarily blind with pain.

I plant my feet, stake gripped tightly. He charges with a roar of fury, all pretence of control abandoned. Time slows to a crawl as I pivot to meet him, bracing the stake against my body, angled upward toward his heart.

His momentum does the work. His chest meets the stake with bone-crushing force, the wood sliding between ribs with sickening ease. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. We stand frozen in a grotesque embrace, his eyes wide with disbelief, my hands steady on the stake’s base.

“Fuck!” Gaida’s scream splits the air. “Fuck!”

Reality catches up. Aurelius looks down at the stake protruding from his chest, his expression shifting from shock to denial to understanding. His mouth opens, but no sound emerges. His hands grasp weakly at my shoulders, not attacking now but seeking support as his legs begin to fail.

I step back, letting him fall to his knees. The stake remains embedded in his chest, blood black as night seeping around the wood.

“For Gaida,” I whisper, voice raw from his attempts to crush my throat.

Something like an acknowledgement flickers across his face before decay sets in. It starts at the edges, his fingertips turning to ash, skin greying and tightening across suddenly prominent cheekbones. Cracks appear across his face like ancient pottery shattering in slow motion.

Luke and Felix appear at the edge of my failing vision. Luke no longer holds the sword or chalice. Felix’s face is grim as he takes in my condition.

Aurelius tries to speak, his lips forming words I cannot hear. Then, with a sound like dry leaves scattering in autumn wind, Aurelius Aragon crumbles to dust. The stake clatters to the ground, the only solid thing remaining of the ancient vampire patriarch.

I stand swaying, blood dripping from countless wounds, victory hollow in the face of what it has cost. My body, operating on pure adrenaline until now, registers the full extent of damage sustained. Ribs shift painfully with each breath. Blood seeps from the punctures in my neck. A bone in my left arm hangs at an unnatural angle.

Gaida rushes forward. Her face is a mask of concern and relief, tears cutting clean tracks through dust on her cheeks. Before she can reach me, I bend over double to catch my breath.

“Dante!” Her voice sounds distant despite her proximity.

“Sorry, ma reine . That was always going to be him or me.”

“You,” she says instantly. “Always you.”

Luke moves closer, staring down at the pile of ash that was once Aurelius Aragon. His gaze shifts to me, one eyebrow raised.

I meet his gaze with a bloody grin. “Who’s the vamp daddy now?”

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters, making all of us laugh with the expletive but I sober quickly and catch Gaida’s eyes.

“Do I need to apologise again?”

She glares at me. “No,” she says. “No. He deserved it.”

“No one lays hands on you and lives to talk about it.”

“You’re hurt,” she says, ignoring my attempt at levity. Her hands flutter over my injuries, unsure where to touch without causing more pain.

“I’ll live,” I manage, though my body screams otherwise. Every breath sends jagged shards of agony through my chest. “Just need a minute.”

That minute never comes. My legs finally give out, and I collapse to my knees. The world tilts sickeningly, ground rushing up to meet me. I brace for impact, but strong arms catch me before I hit the stone.

“I’ve got you,” Luke murmurs.

“The sword,” I mumble, noticing it’s no longer in his hand. “Where?—”

“Later,” he cuts me off, lowering me carefully to the ground. “Felix, he needs blood. Go to the Blood Bar and get whatever you can. Tell Grimm it’s for me.”

“On it,” he says and vanishes as Luke slings me over his shoulder, much to Gaida’s amusement.

She snorts. “That’s right, vamp daddy . See how you like it.”

“You sure you’re okay?” I slur, letting my arms hang limply.

“More than you would imagine,” she says, lacing her fingers through mine, even at this awkward angle. “I’m free.”

“Then it was worth it.”