Page 30 of Close Quarter
Beneath him, Rhys moaned and thrashed.
It was the soulless who broke their contact. It picked Silas up and hurled him against the ship's railing. The blow sent fire up his spine. Agony burst into Silas's skull, and sparks danced in his vision before he crumpled to the deck. His lungs burned with every breath.
The soulless wouldn't be able to resist taking him. Once the creature bit he had perhaps a moment before it drained him to unconsciousness.
One chance left.
"The master said you were soft." The soulless hauled Silas to his feet. "Nothing but a slave. How is it that you have survived so long?"
Teeth plunged into flesh.
This one's bite was far worse than the young soulless. It seared through his heart, ripped through nerves like the barbed tongues of a whip. The creature drew on every last spark of energy Silas held, down to the one that kept his soul attached to his body. But he had been here before with a much older vampire.
Anaxandros.
Silas reached through the miasma of pain and called the gladius back to his hand. He plunged it straight through the soulless, where its heart would have been, had it had one.
"By not being afraid to die," Silas said.
Fire flickered behind the soulless's eyes.
"Imposs--" And then it burst into flame.
The heat scorched Silas too and sent him stumbling back against the railing. This time he did drop the sword. It clattered to the deck amid a flurry of ash and smoke.
Silas slid down to the wood planks, utterly spent. There would be no glamour. No healing. He might live, if he could make it back to the garden.
The gentle fall of the sea spray against his wounds made every inch of his body pulse with agony.
Five more soulless to kill. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
And Anaxandros was their master.Mercifulgods!
Only Silas's gods weren't. Had never been, not to him. The Messengers? Righteousness was not mercy.
On the table, Rhys stirred. Cursed. Stood.
Silas made out only the silhouette of his form, backlit by the faint light from the ship. Rhys stumbled once but steadied. "Silas?"
He wanted to crawl away, but he couldn't move. He was, he realized, dying. Slowly, but yes.
The poison had taken root. No escape. Fortuna had finally caught him.
Took her long enough.
Rhys called his name again.
"Here." It came out like crushed leaves in autumn. All dust and pieces.
Rhys stumbled toward him and caught himself against the railing. "Oh my God. You're--" He reached out.
Silas tried to pull away. "No!"
Too late again. Rhys's fingers brushed against the side of his face, and they both screamed.
All the elemental energy Rhys still held within him, Silas took. He could not stop the desperate act of his body. The flow also carried with it Rhys's torment and fear, scalding Silas's nerves and soul.
When it was over, Silas could move again.
