Page 64 of Hunt the Dusk
We reached the courtyard where theCertamina pro thronowas taking place to find the nobles standing in a line facing away from us, and for a moment I thought it hadn’t begun yet, but then my eyes caught movement beyond them. Two figures in battle, one stocky, the other tall and athletic. Both shirtless and bootless, moving in a series of blurs as they attacked each other.
The fight had begun, and it was a silent one.
No hissing or roaring. No threats or curses.
Just preternatural movement, the sound of tearing flesh, and the metallic scent of blood.
It was like watching a movie with the sound turned down where every few seconds there was a freeze frame of a still where both parties faced off before launching back into motion once more.
No weapons in sight. Just talons and teeth.
Even the spectators were quiet. No cheers, no words of encouragement. Nothing but stillness.
It was creepy and disconcerting and, oh God, Ezekiel was bleeding a lot. More than Darage. His back and his side were a network of slashes, and was it my imagination or was Ezekiel moving a fraction slower than Darage? Had my blood not been enough?
The vampire king staggered on his feet, falling out of blur mode. I wanted to see his face.Neededto see his face, but his head was down, his dark locks hiding his features. He held up a bloody hand, black talons dripping with crimson as if to ward off Darage, who attacked regardless, slicing a path across Ezekiel’s chest.
“No!” I rushed forward, only to be blocked by Laudon.
“What are you doing here?” the noble demanded. “You need to go. It’s not safe for you to?—”
“She should stay.” Albert sidled up beside us, so I was sandwiched between the two males. “She should see this.” His lip curled. “For Eloise.”
“Fuck you. Your daughter was a psycho bitch and deserved what she got.”
His lips peeled back from his teeth, and for a moment I thought he was about to attack me. I grabbed the hilt of my blade, but Albert was yanked away from me before I could draw it, and Godor took his place, hissing at the noble like a feral cat.
Albert backed up quickly, his expression paling.
I turned back to the fight, just as Darage’s palm punched Ezekiel in the chest. The king flew back and hit the ground on his ass. He stayed down, head bowed so his dark hair covered his expression.
No… “Ezekiel?” I needed him to look up. To see me. “Get up. You can do this. Please.”
“How touching.” Darage’s voice cracked the silence like the lash of a whip. “The watcher counseling her insane charge. I would have expected someone from the Order to recognize thewisdom of disabling the vampire king and relieving him of his crown. You can go home. Be free of this place.”
And that’s exactly what I’d wanted to begin with, but everything was different now, not just because of his curse but because…because of him. Ezekiel was a monster but…he was a monster worth saving, so I ignored Darage and spoke to the broken, pale figure of my charge. “Ezekiel. Get the fuck up and kick this wanker’s ass before I’m forced to do it for you.”
Ezekiel’s shoulders shook, and for a moment I thought he was having some kind of fit, but then his laughter bubbled up into the night air, music to my panicked heart. He threw back his head and guffawed, a belly laugh that warmed me to my icy toes and drew a smile to my lips even as my brain struggled to consolidate his reaction with his battered state.
“You think this is funny?” Darage demanded, eyes blazing with indignation.
Ezekiel lifted a finger in a wait a moment gesture as he wrangled his mirth into control. “I don’t think you’re funny at all, Darage.” He tipped his head to one side, peering up at the noble as if he was looking up at a passerby from a picnic blanket on a sunny day. “I think you’re a turd. A good-for-nothing rat turd who I should have snuffed out centuries ago. I think you’re boring, and stagnant, and despite your talk of progress, I believe that all you want is for things to go back to the way they used to be, except under your tedious reign. I think that the most exciting portion of the last century for you has been your preparation to”—he made rabbit ears with his fingers—“‘take me down.’ And now…” His expression sobered. The weary lines mapping his features smoothed out, and the blood stains seeped into his skin.
All evidence of weakness and exhaustion fell away like the clever illusion that they were, and my heart leapt as Ezekiel slowly unfurled his majestic frame and stood to face his enemy.
Darage rocked on his feet as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. “You…You were feigning?”
Ezekiel shrugged a muscle-rounded shoulder. “What can I say? I have a weakness for theatrics, and what’s aCertamina pro thronowithout a little drama?” He smiled, that infuriatingly smug smile that usually made me want to claw out his eyes but tonight was the most beautiful sight ever. “But drama time is over. My little watcher is tired”—his gaze flicked my way and connected with mine with a soft snick that I felt deep in my chest—“and it’s time we took our leave, so now…Now I’m going to kill you.”
He attacked, sudden and vicious. Darage wasn’t quick enough to defend and fell beneath the vampire king’s frame, pinned to the ground by Ezekiel’s jaw wrapped around his throat.
He thrashed and bucked then screamed, an awful, agonized, wet, gurgling sound that almost eclipsed the fleshy tearing sound of his head being torn off.
Thud.
It rolled and landed at my feet like an offering, staring up at me with glazed eyes and a wide-open mouth.
Silence settled. Stunned. Final.
