Valley of Silence
Page 73
“I’m hungry.” His eyes were turning, and his tongue flicked out over fang and lip. “I want to kill the old one. I want to drink the female. They’re mine, they’re mine. I’m the Prince of Blood!”
“Davey, no!”
But with a violent kick of his heels, he sent the pony racing forward.
It was all so quick, Moira thought. Flashing moments. The silver snick of Cian’s sword leaving its scabbard, the shift of his body in front of hers like a shield. The rider flew out of the dark, and her arrow was notched and ready.
Then she saw it was a child, a little boy on a sturdy roan pony. Her heart stumbled; her body jerked. And her arrow went wide of the mark.
The child was screaming, howling, snarling. A wolf cub on the hunt.
Lilith flew behind the pony, an emerald and gold she-demon, streaking through the air, hands curled into claws, fangs gleaming.
Moira’s second arrow spiked through her heart and soared into the air.
“She’s not real!” Cian shouted. “But he is. Take the dragon and go.”
Even as she reached for a third arrow, Cian shoved her aside, leaping over the charging pony.
A little boy, Moira thought. A little boy with eyes burning red and fangs spearing. It waved a shortened sword, as it dragged on the reins. Lilith’s screams were like lances of ice through Moira’s brain as the boy tumbled off the pony and fell hard on the rocky ground.
It bled, Moira saw, where the rocks struck and scraped. It cried, as a boy would when he had a fall.
Her breath caught in denial as Cian advanced with the illusion of Lilith clawing at him with intangible hands. Sick in heart and mind, Moira lowered her bow.
The second rider came out of the moon-struck dark like fury. Not a boy now, but a man armed for battle, his broadsword already cleaving the air.
Cian pivoted, and met the charge.
Swords clashed and crashed, the deadly music of them ringing over the valley. Cian leaped, dismounting the rider with a vicious kick to the throat.
With no clear shot, Moira tossed down her bow and drew her sword. Before she could rush to fight with Cian, the boy gained his hands and knees. He lifted his head, stared at her with those gleaming eyes.
It growled.
“Don’t.” Moira backed up a step as Davey crouched to spring. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ll rip out your throat.” His lips peeled back as he circled her. “And drink and drink. You should run. I like it best when they try to run.”
“I won’t run. But you should.”
“Davey, run! Run now!”
He whipped his head toward Lilith and snarled like a rabid dog. “I want to play! Hide-and-seek. Tag, you’re it!”
“I won’t play.” Moira circled with him, trying to work him back with thrusts of the sword.
He’d lost his sword in the fall, but Moira told herself she would use hers if he sprang at her. He wasn’t unarmed; no vampire ever was. And those fangs glinted, sharp and keen.
She spun, kicking out, aiming low to hit him in the belly and drive him back.
Lilith’s form crouched over him, hissing. “I’ll kill you for that. I’ll peel the skin from your bones before I do. Lucius!”
Lucius hacked out at Cian. There was blood on them both, blood in their eyes. They leaped at each other, meeting violently in midair.
“Run, Davey!” Lucius shouted. “Run!”
Davey hesitated, and something came over his face. Moira thought, for an instant, she could see the child the demon had swallowed. The fear, the innocence, the confusion.
He ran as a child runs, limping on his scraped knees. And gaining speed, gaining that eerie grace as he rushed toward the slashing swords.
Dropping her own sword, Moira grabbed up her bow. A moment too late, as Davey leaped onto Cian’s back, struck with fang and fist. If she shot now, the arrow could go through the boy, and into Cian.
A fingersnap. More flashes of time. The boy tumbled through the air, propelled by a savage blow. He knuckled his hands over his burning eyes and cried for his mother.
Again, Lilith called out. “Lucius, the prince! Help the prince.”
His loyalty, his years of service cost him. As Lucius turned his head a fraction toward Lilith, Cian took it with one singing strike of his sword.
Davey scrambled to his feet, wild panic on his face now.
“Take him,” Cian called out as Davey began to run. “Take the shot.”
Now those flashes of time slowed down. Wild screams, wild weeping, echoing through the dragging air. The figure of a child running on bleeding, tired legs. Lilith, her face alive with fear and horror, standing between the child and Moira, her arms spread in defense or plea.
Moira looked into Lilith’s eyes as her own blurred. Then with a tear in her heart, she blinked them clear, and sent the arrow flying.
The shriek was horribly human as the arrow passed through Lilith. That shriek went on and on and on as the arrow continued, straight and true into the heart of what had once been a little boy who’d played in the warm surf with his father.
Then Moira was standing alone with Cian on the edge of a valley that hummed with the hunger for more blood.
Cian bent, picked up the swords. “We need to go, now. She’ll have already sent others.”
“She loved him.” Moira’s voice sounded strange and thin to her own ears. “She loved the child.”
“Love isn’t exclusive to humans. We need to go.”
Her mind dull, she tried to focus on Cian. “You’re hurt.”
“And I don’t relish leaving any more blood here. Get mounted.”
She nodded, taking her own weapons before pulling herself onto the dragon. “She’d killed him,” Moira murmured as Cian vaulted on behind her. “But she loved him.”
She said nothing more as they flew away from the battlefield.
G lenna took over the moment they got back, herding them both into the parlor for first aid.
“I’m not hurt,” Moira insisted, but sat heavily. “I wasn’t touched.”
“Just sit.” Glenna got to work on Cian’s buttons. “Off with your shirt, handsome, so I can see the damage.”
“Some cuts, a few punctures.” He bit back a wince as he shrugged out of the shirt. “He was good with a sword, quick on his feet.”
“I’d say you were better and quicker.” Blair handed him a cup of whiskey. “That’s a nasty bite on the back of your shoulder, pal. What? This guy fought like a girl?”
“Davey, no!”
But with a violent kick of his heels, he sent the pony racing forward.
It was all so quick, Moira thought. Flashing moments. The silver snick of Cian’s sword leaving its scabbard, the shift of his body in front of hers like a shield. The rider flew out of the dark, and her arrow was notched and ready.
Then she saw it was a child, a little boy on a sturdy roan pony. Her heart stumbled; her body jerked. And her arrow went wide of the mark.
The child was screaming, howling, snarling. A wolf cub on the hunt.
Lilith flew behind the pony, an emerald and gold she-demon, streaking through the air, hands curled into claws, fangs gleaming.
Moira’s second arrow spiked through her heart and soared into the air.
“She’s not real!” Cian shouted. “But he is. Take the dragon and go.”
Even as she reached for a third arrow, Cian shoved her aside, leaping over the charging pony.
A little boy, Moira thought. A little boy with eyes burning red and fangs spearing. It waved a shortened sword, as it dragged on the reins. Lilith’s screams were like lances of ice through Moira’s brain as the boy tumbled off the pony and fell hard on the rocky ground.
It bled, Moira saw, where the rocks struck and scraped. It cried, as a boy would when he had a fall.
Her breath caught in denial as Cian advanced with the illusion of Lilith clawing at him with intangible hands. Sick in heart and mind, Moira lowered her bow.
The second rider came out of the moon-struck dark like fury. Not a boy now, but a man armed for battle, his broadsword already cleaving the air.
Cian pivoted, and met the charge.
Swords clashed and crashed, the deadly music of them ringing over the valley. Cian leaped, dismounting the rider with a vicious kick to the throat.
With no clear shot, Moira tossed down her bow and drew her sword. Before she could rush to fight with Cian, the boy gained his hands and knees. He lifted his head, stared at her with those gleaming eyes.
It growled.
“Don’t.” Moira backed up a step as Davey crouched to spring. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ll rip out your throat.” His lips peeled back as he circled her. “And drink and drink. You should run. I like it best when they try to run.”
“I won’t run. But you should.”
“Davey, run! Run now!”
He whipped his head toward Lilith and snarled like a rabid dog. “I want to play! Hide-and-seek. Tag, you’re it!”
“I won’t play.” Moira circled with him, trying to work him back with thrusts of the sword.
He’d lost his sword in the fall, but Moira told herself she would use hers if he sprang at her. He wasn’t unarmed; no vampire ever was. And those fangs glinted, sharp and keen.
She spun, kicking out, aiming low to hit him in the belly and drive him back.
Lilith’s form crouched over him, hissing. “I’ll kill you for that. I’ll peel the skin from your bones before I do. Lucius!”
Lucius hacked out at Cian. There was blood on them both, blood in their eyes. They leaped at each other, meeting violently in midair.
“Run, Davey!” Lucius shouted. “Run!”
Davey hesitated, and something came over his face. Moira thought, for an instant, she could see the child the demon had swallowed. The fear, the innocence, the confusion.
He ran as a child runs, limping on his scraped knees. And gaining speed, gaining that eerie grace as he rushed toward the slashing swords.
Dropping her own sword, Moira grabbed up her bow. A moment too late, as Davey leaped onto Cian’s back, struck with fang and fist. If she shot now, the arrow could go through the boy, and into Cian.
A fingersnap. More flashes of time. The boy tumbled through the air, propelled by a savage blow. He knuckled his hands over his burning eyes and cried for his mother.
Again, Lilith called out. “Lucius, the prince! Help the prince.”
His loyalty, his years of service cost him. As Lucius turned his head a fraction toward Lilith, Cian took it with one singing strike of his sword.
Davey scrambled to his feet, wild panic on his face now.
“Take him,” Cian called out as Davey began to run. “Take the shot.”
Now those flashes of time slowed down. Wild screams, wild weeping, echoing through the dragging air. The figure of a child running on bleeding, tired legs. Lilith, her face alive with fear and horror, standing between the child and Moira, her arms spread in defense or plea.
Moira looked into Lilith’s eyes as her own blurred. Then with a tear in her heart, she blinked them clear, and sent the arrow flying.
The shriek was horribly human as the arrow passed through Lilith. That shriek went on and on and on as the arrow continued, straight and true into the heart of what had once been a little boy who’d played in the warm surf with his father.
Then Moira was standing alone with Cian on the edge of a valley that hummed with the hunger for more blood.
Cian bent, picked up the swords. “We need to go, now. She’ll have already sent others.”
“She loved him.” Moira’s voice sounded strange and thin to her own ears. “She loved the child.”
“Love isn’t exclusive to humans. We need to go.”
Her mind dull, she tried to focus on Cian. “You’re hurt.”
“And I don’t relish leaving any more blood here. Get mounted.”
She nodded, taking her own weapons before pulling herself onto the dragon. “She’d killed him,” Moira murmured as Cian vaulted on behind her. “But she loved him.”
She said nothing more as they flew away from the battlefield.
G lenna took over the moment they got back, herding them both into the parlor for first aid.
“I’m not hurt,” Moira insisted, but sat heavily. “I wasn’t touched.”
“Just sit.” Glenna got to work on Cian’s buttons. “Off with your shirt, handsome, so I can see the damage.”
“Some cuts, a few punctures.” He bit back a wince as he shrugged out of the shirt. “He was good with a sword, quick on his feet.”
“I’d say you were better and quicker.” Blair handed him a cup of whiskey. “That’s a nasty bite on the back of your shoulder, pal. What? This guy fought like a girl?”
