Page 13 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I got myself a room in the inn that was the least secure place I could possibly choose—right in the front, with big windows that I left uncovered. The innkeeper didn’t even try to stop my would-be captor. I didn’t blame him for that. Some misguided attempt at noble chivalry wouldn’t be worth laying down his life.

The vampire didn’t knock before forcing open my door. Whatever he did to it made the rickety piece of wood fly open with aBANG, the iron knob gouging the plaster of the wall. If that was brute strength alone, I was almost impressed.

He stood in the doorway. I recognized him as one of the soldiers who had seen me the night before. He was stocky and broad, with pale skin and shaggy ash-blond hair, and a neat, trimmed beard. He wore the uniform of the Bloodborn soldiers—it had probably been a fine jacket once, dark red and double-breasted with silver buttons, but it was a bit worse for wear these days.

“You’re coming with me,” he said. His voice was deep and heavily accented. It echoed the same weary exhaustion I felt in his presence—spurred, I’m sure, from days of fruitless searching.

I didn’t move. “I—excuse me? What are you doing here?”

My voice notched up an octave, emphasizing the depths of my shock.

“You’ll come with me,” he said again. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you.”

I rose, staggering a little, pressing myself against the wall like I was truly terrified of the man before me.

“I—I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. Then he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my arms.

Immediately, I struggled. Not too hard, of course. Not as hard as I could. Just enough to make it convincing. “Get your handsoffme!”

He didn’t, predictably. Instead, he dragged me across the room. Even though all of this was going exactly as I’d hoped it would, my heartbeat quickened despite myself when my captor flashed a smile at me and revealed two sharp fangs—so sharp I could practically feel it through the threads. A sudden spike of claustrophobic fear wrenched through me, reminding me far too much of decades ago, and I had to stop myself from succumbing to the instinct to slip his grasp.

Instead, I flailed like a fish on a line and let him drag me.

“Let me go!” I demanded. “Get your hands off me!Let me go!”

For effect, I managed to free one of my hands, then grabbed the metal candle holder from the bedside table, and swung it across his face.

He spat a string of Obitraen curses. His face darkened. I’d opened a gash over his cheek, which now dripped black blood. He glared at me.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered. “You’re not worth any of this.”

Then, without hesitation, he held me tight with one arm, used the other to withdraw a dagger from his belt, and opened a long slice down my forearm.

I hissed in pain, stunned. At first I was confused—if his intention was to either subdue me or kill me, this made no sense. But moments later, as blood bubbled to the surface of the wound and dripped down my skin, I realized:

The vampires of the House of Blood used blood magic.

A slow burning sensation started at the wound, then intensified, slowly, slowly, until it left my teeth grinding and my breathing shaky. The vampire lifted his hand, and without my permission, my arm jerked closer to him—a genuinely disconcerting sensation, like my muscles were no longer under my control.

Then he flicked his fingers up, and suddenly my face was hot, and my head felt like it was splitting in two.

I had trained through worse pain than this. Experienced worse. But this—the feeling that my body was turning against itself?—

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“That’s enough,” my captor said, annoyed, as I slumped back into his arms, and everything went dark.

CHAPTER SIX

Iawoke slowly. My head was splitting. The first thing I became aware of was the scent of snow—strange, because there was little snow in Glaea.

Voices. A language I didn’t recognize at first. Then I realized, it was Obitraen.

Someone shook me, hard, and with their touch came a sickening jolt that stirred me from the inside out.

At that, the threads came alive again.

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