Beautiful Death (22 page)
The vampire suddenly smiled a nasty smirk as he rose to his feet, hands at the ready. He knew what Tristan was thinking. Damn.
“You know,” Tristan said, “one of us isn’t going to make it, right?”
That smirk stretched until fangs showed. “
Da, èto pravda
.”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t speak Russian, dude.”
The vampire pointed at him. “
Vas-to mne i nado
… big gift, Master say.”
“Well, you can go tell your
Master
to go fuck himself.”
That did it. The vampire roared with anger and dove at the American. Tristan was hoping he would and ducked the attack. He hit the ground and grunted when his shoulder smacked into the tile. At least the flour kept his skin from snagging and he slid across the tile until he hit the center island. He had precious seconds to get to his feet and find the knife he knew had to be on the island before he was attacked again.
Tristan had just gotten to his feet when the weight of the vampire slammed into his back, almost flipping him up and over the island. The guy was half his size and pushing him around like he weighed nothing. Still, Tristan had hope. He had to. Fingers pierced into his sides and he screamed, fumbling blindly on the island. Something bit into his finger. He grabbed the cold metal handle and spun, swinging out with a fierce war cry.
The vampire let go of him, trying to dodge the attack, but he was too careless and slow. They stopped, blinking at each other in shock, the knife sticking out of the vampire’s chest. “
Chto za huy
!”
Tristan laughed, shoving the vampire back. “Chips ahoy to you too, pal.”
The vampire’s expression screwed up into raw rage as he came for Tristan again. Tristan returned the scream, meeting him halfway and smacked a palm down hard onto the hilt. A groan let him know the knife hit deep, sinking to the hilt into the vampire’s heart. For the first time since encountering the monster, it looked frightened. This sent a surge of victory through Tristan. The vampire gasped and tried to pull the knife out, but Tristan jerked it free first, twisting it as it came loose.
The vampire toppled on his feet, stumbling backwards, the blood flowing from him in a fount of red. Using the vampire’s backwards motion to his advantage, Tristan kicked the vamp hard in his stomach and sent him to his back. The moment the vampire landed, Tristan was on him, driving a knee into the open chest wound. The Russian vamp cried out and writhed under him, clawing at Tristan’s legs, but he couldn’t get up. The beast was trapped and knew it.
A dark sneer came over Tristan as he raised the large kitchen knife. There was no hesitation in his conviction to kill anymore. He brought the knife down again and again, stabbing at the vampire’s neck, letting his anger and rage build with each swing. He saw nothing else but that thing, the monster under him as he sliced open its neck, blood arching off the blade, splattering every surface around them. The vampire under him was no longer a man, a person, but a thing. A thing to be disposed of.
And, God, it felt so fucking good to dispose of it...
Out of air, arms shaking, Tristan sat back. There was blood everywhere—it spread out in a wide puddle around them, covered his hands like thick latex gloves past his wrists to his elbows. Spots cooled on his chest and face. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. But he killed it. And he didn’t get bitten. Sure his stomach was practically torn open and he might bleed to death in the next few minutes but he won.
Laughter crept up on him and before he knew it, he was in full out hysterics. His stomach was killing him, but he couldn’t stop. The strength left him in a sudden wash of relief and he dropped the knife, falling over. As he laid curled into a tight ball on the floor, he wondered how he managed to get this far. Everything hurt. He was sure his victory was pure luck. Despite that vampire being only a fledgling, Tristan wasn’t strong enough, not nearly, and it should have killed him. But then, somehow, Tristan won. Just. Any older of a vampire would have meant a very painful and violent death. He was too weak, too human to stand a fair chance. While he feared not being human, he feared his death more. And that’s where his real uncertainties all came to light. He knew… he needed to be one of them. He had to die to live.
“Yur lot would make a guid bloodsucker, mate, get’n yur jollies aff murdering like that. Whut dae yew say, care fur a wee bite?”
Tristan’s head snapped up. “Desmond,” he hissed. “What the fu—”
The big vampire grinned. He was wearing a kilt and nothing else from the unfortunate view Tristan had from the floor. “Heard there micht be a raid. Guess we wus too late.”
“We?” he asked, trying to stand and failing.
“Term of speech, mate. Jist me.”
“Great,” Tristan grumbled.
“Yew ken, that one was no’ yonker—er, fledgling.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” God it hurt to just breathe, let alone talk.
“He was whut we call a vaneela.”
“A wha—a vanilla?”
“Aye. That one wis older than us, but no seikonō. A tame, average.”
Tristan frowned. He didn’t kill a fledgling? And what the hell was seik—Desmond was suddenly at his side trying to help him stand. “Get the fuck off me, man. God.”
“Dinnae be such a jessie. Yew’s got a partial collapsed lung. We can fix it right up, mate.”
“I’m not your mate, asshole.”
“Aye, but you es Asta’s, then.”
Tristan glared into Desmond’s face from inches away as he was pulled to his feet. “That a question?”
The vampire grinned. “Suppose no’.”
“Where is she?”
Desmond hosted Tristan up, making him stand upright and the American let out a hiss, trying not to fold over in pain. “Jist coming, mate.”
A sudden chill tore down Tristan’s back and he felt dizzy. He looked down and frowned. The whole lower half of his body was red. He wondered how much of that was his. From the look of his stomach, quite a bit of it. He was still bleeding heavily.
God there was so much blood.
“Aw yurs, mate. Haud still or yew es going to bleed oot.”
Ash came down the hallway looking like a Viking warrior, hair a bloody and tangled mess, streaks of drying vampire blood flaking off her face and hands, clothes torn and askew. And angry. She was fucking pissed, that was until she saw Tristan anyway. Her eyes widened in shock as she came to an abrupt stop. “What…” She looked back and forth between Desmond and Tristan. “What happened?”
Tristan smiled and tried to walk to her. Desmond let him go and he tripped. Ash caught Tristan in her cold embrace and lowered him to the floor.
“Tristan, you are seriously hurt, what happened?
He looked at her and burst into laughter again, only to end up gasping and coughing.
“Saw the whole bloody show, saw him kill that vaneela cow, Demyan, like it were a fooking treat.”
Ash gave a little shudder, not realizing it was Demyan that she’d set Tristan against. She had many memories of that man she wished she hadn’t and would not lament his passing. If she had known, she never would have sent Tristan alone.
Still gasping for air, Tristan lifted a hand and flicked the other vampire off. “Fuck… you. You could have… helped. Asshat.”
Desmond laughed. “Did a'richt on yur own, yew wee jessie bas.”
Ash scowled at Desmond, tightening her arms around Tristan as if to protect him from his words. “Your stomach, is it bad? May I see?”
“No.” He pushed at her hand. “It’s just a flesh wound.” He gave a short, terse laugh.
“Stupid ass human, joking at a time like this.”
He smiled at her. It was the same thing he said to her after her tumble off the bike. But this, well, his tumble was a little worse.
“You are going into shock,” she said, her voice heavy with disapproval.
“Look, darling dainty fangs...,” he started and felt as if he would nearly giggle. He was ready to fall into another laughing fit. “We have to find Haruka.” He sighed, feeling more himself suddenly, realizing the weight of his words and the instant fear in Ash’s eyes. “I killed the vampire in the kitchen, but didn’t see Haruka and there were bloody footprints everywhere.”
Ash looked to Desmond. The big vamp sighed and moved forward. “Right then, we will patch him up.”
Tristan didn’t even bother fighting as Desmond scooped him up into a fireman’s hold. He was too busy moaning in pain and fighting off the disorientation.
Ash scowled, standing with her sword. “If you do anything—”
Desmond held a hand up. “Aye, me baws. Go on then, find yur wee lass, we’s take care of this one.”
“Thank you,” she said and then she was gone.
Desmond sighed, adjusting Tristan’s still weight on his shoulder. “Right then, let’s git yew patched aw bonny like fur the wee lassie. Oi!” He shook the still form hanging on his shoulder. “Yew alive, mate?”
“Ki… kiss my ass,” came the strained whisper.
The vampire laughed, starting towards the bedrooms.
“No,” Tristan snapped, louder. “I want… I want to go with her. I have to help Ash.”
“Yew cannae even breathe, mate.” Tristan didn’t answer, but Desmond knew the hardheaded American was still alive. Barely. “Right then, if yew bleed tae death on us, we is no’ tae blame.”
“Deal,” Tristan breathed. He knew he was in pain, but he felt numb all over. And cold. He knew he should let Desmond fix him up, but there was this nagging pain at the bottom of his stomach that had nothing to do with the crater there, or being pressed up against a vampire. It was fear and sorrow and pain of an emotional kind. Something happened to Haruka. He just knew.
ASH was sitting on the ground in the back yard, mindlessly petting Haruka’s hair, matted with blood and brains. She tried to cover the girl’s naked body up as much as she could but her nightgown had been torn to shreds. There was no dignity for the child, not even in death. They raped her, her poor, poor Haruka. Raped and bled her, clawing open her flesh. Tore out her throat, blood everywhere. Part of her ear was missing, resting in one of their bellies. Ash would get that scrap of flesh back, burn her whole. It was the least she could do.
Haruka may have had a broken mind, but she still had instincts and a will to live. She had tried to protect herself with the sword Ash had given her nearly twenty years ago. There were remnants of blood on it that smelled of the vampire across the lawn. The girl could only wound her attackers, leaving one immobilized but alive for Ash’s interrogation.
Ash was so proud of her.
She sensed the others before she heard the soft gasp and Ash couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears broke free as she slumped over her lost friend. A daughter really. She loved the girl so much. Still crying, she managed an even voice. “Desmond, I asked you to tend to him. You know I never ask of you anything.”
“Aye, true enough, but were no’ my decision then, was it?”
“Ash,” Tristan started, still amazed he was conscious and then turned his attention to Desmond. “Dammit, put me down.”
The big vamp smirked and dropped him to the ground like a bag of dirty laundry.
“Fucker,” Tristan hissed, clutching at his middle. Then he saw Ash and realized his pain was nothing compared to hers. From across the lawn, he only got a profile view, but it was enough. Haruka was dead and Ash was in mourning.
“I tried so hard,” Ash said softly, looking down at Haruka’s still form. “I did everything for her. I saved her from that monster, only to kill her myself. In the end… it all mattered for nothing. ”
“Oh Ash, I’m so sorry. Is there any—”
A snort from across the lawn drew Tristan’s and Desmond’s attention. Desmond knew the man was not dead, but Tristan hadn’t even noticed the other body, missing its legs, slumped against the fence. “Of course no thing you could do.” The vampire laughed again, though it sounded strained, forced. “Jap bitch is good dead.”
“You son of a—”
“That is enough,” Ash said in a firm but low voice. Gently, as if not to wake the lifeless tattered body, Ash slid Haruka from her lap. She stood and removed her robe, revealing a nightgown underneath that didn’t hide anything. She laid the stained and torn kimono over the body of her lost friend.
“
Blyad
,” the Russian vamp hissed at Ash.
She turned slowly to look at him, eyes half lidded and cynical. Tristan shrunk into himself. It was
that
Ash again, the one he didn’t know. The one that frightened him. This Ash was dangerous.
“You call me a whore?” She retrieved her sword from the ground where she had dropped it and started a slow, calculating stalk towards the halved vampire letting the tip engrave a line in the grass. “You are the whore here. Doing whatever
he
tells you without question.”
“It is our role as scion. If you have any pride as vampire, you follow Master too.”
“Only the weak follow. Only the weak take orders without question. Who are you to take the life of an innocent?”
“No person is innocent. Not you, not the Jap bitch who whines for mama. Mama, mama, ma—”
The last taunt was cut off by a hard fist to his jaw. Ash was on him and Tristan hadn’t even seen her move. The vampire grunted under the blow and toppled over. No sooner did his shoulder touch the ground and then he was airborne from a kick Ash delivered to his chest. Six-hundred pound motorcycle, two-hundred pound bag of Russian shit, didn’t matter, they all went flying.
“You, you…” The tears were flowing freely. She could not stop it. There was no shame in crying for those you loved. She went to stand over the unmoving vampire she’d kicked across the lawn. “Tell me where to find Malik.” There was no movement from the monster. “Now.”
Tristan sighed to himself. Apparently Yuki didn’t tell her anything last night. Big surprise. Then again, maybe the crazy old bat really didn’t know where Malik was. In a (very tiny) way that made Tristan feel better.
The Russian didn’t move. Ash didn’t hesitate to stomp down on the stump of leg Haruka left him with.
“Bitch!”
“Answer me you worthless piece of shit!” Ash screamed, flashing a lot of fang.
Desmond chuckled. “Now he done it. Only heard the wee lassie curse wance in the lest fifty years and that was when we… er, never yew mind.”
Tristan frowned. He didn’t like the idea that Desmond knew her more than as passing acquaintances. Then again, they used to sleep together, didn’t they?
Ash yanked the sword from its sheath. Red tears still streaming, panting with anger, she sat down hard on the vampire’s chest and shoved the sharp metal under his throat. He twisted and groaned under her weight, trying to get free, but Ash had him pinned. With no legs, there wasn’t far to run either.
A rustling, a low growl and scratching sounded from inside, behind Tristan. Something about the noise made all the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Seconds later, he realized why as a small dark shape crouched on all fours, shot out past him. The shape was familiar but his mind railed against the awful sight. No matter what shape it was in, the appearance was clear to him. A jikininki.
“Oh fuck!” He scrambled to stand, but Desmond grabbed him. “The fuck off!”
“Calm doon, mate. Yew’s go’n tae bleed out, thrashing like a fooking loon.”
“But—” Tristan stopped, watching as the creature went up to Ash and stopped. She smiled at it and gave it a pat on the head. Called it a “good girl.”
“What the…?” Tristan muttered bewildered.
“Aye. That be Pandora.”
“But how?” Tristan whispered and looked up to Desmond. The big vampire smirked at him like nothing weird was happening at all. Like Haruka wasn’t dead, like there wasn’t a vampire with no legs spewing Russian curses at Ash. Like Pandora wasn’t a jikininki.
Desmond shrugged, looking away. “Dinnae rightly ken, mate. Jist that it be true.”
“Yuri!” Ash snapped. “I do not have the time to deal with you. That man,” Ash said, motioning to Tristan, dying on her lawn, “is more important to me than a thousand of your pathetic lives.”
It took a few seconds for her statement to register in his blood starved brain. When he realized what she might have meant, he blinked at her stunned. What exactly was she saying... that she...?
Desmond snickered. “Bloody fools.”
“Shut up, fucking asshole.”
“Yew and me is going to have a crackin’ wee rammy when yur aw better.”
Tristan smiled. A wee rammy? Yeah, he’d like to ram his fist into Desmond’s face too. “Looking forward to it.”
Oblivious to the others, Ash continued her interrogation. “Very well. I tried to offer you the decent way out. The human way, but I will just have to do it the vampire way now.”
“Ot ebis'
.
”
“Do not worry, I shall inform Master of your failure when we send him to his own doom.”
Melodramatic, but good.
“Stand no chance and you know it, blyad.”
Ash sighed and dropped to her knees next to the vampire. He laughed. “
Na kaleni, suka
. Na kaleni, suka.” Another, wetter laugh. “Always on the knee.”
Ash’d had enough. She let out a guttural groan that gave Tristan the chills and bit down fast and hard across the front of the foulmouthed Russian’s neck. He screamed a ragged cry of pain, exciting Pandora so that she shot to her feet and barked. Tristan looked away, closing his eyes. He knew what she meant to do and had had enough violence for one night.
Instead of the vampire she bit falling to moans within seconds, his screaming doubled. Tristan cringed, sinking into himself. “Why’s he screaming like that? I thought it felt good to be bitten?”
“Aye,” Desmond said in a low voice, sounding somber. “We can make it a bloody nightmare too.”
Tristan shuddered and frowned. He wasn’t sure if he passed out or just got lost in a half-conscious daze. Next thing he was aware of was the delicious burst of want in his lower half as a vampire lifted him. But it wasn’t the vampire he wanted holding him.
He swallowed down a needy moan and groggily muttered, “Desmond, put me down.”
“No can dae. Asta aboot tae rip mah baws aff fur no’ fixing yew up yet. And I rather fancy me baws in a functionin’ state, mate.”
“Ash…”
“Shh,” her soft voice sounded in his ear. A hand touched his forehead and for once, she felt warmer than him. “You shall be fine.”
He couldn’t open his eyes and the rock of Desmond’s gait was making it harder to keep conscious. “I’m sorry.”
“She is at peace now.”
There was so much heat in those little words that Tristan forced his eyes open. They were by the front door. Ash was putting on her shoes.
“Don’t,” Tristan said in a breathy voice. His lungs were on fire. Talking was almost impossible. “You can’t go. Ash, please don’t do this.”
“The boy es right, lassie. Yew can no think tae—”
“I did not ask you!” she snapped and the big guy sighed. “Take care of him, or I swear to the Goddess, Desmond.”
She was going to leave. She was going leave and get herself killed. “Desmond, you big fucking prick,” Tristan snapped with the last of his energy. “Put me down. Stop her.”
Desmond actually put him down without arguing and tried to reason with Ash. Tristan was left slumped against the wall watching the two vampires scream at each other. But there was no noise, like watching TV on mute. All he could hear was a hum in his ear, a white noise so loud that it even blocked out the screaming in his head. He wanted to yell too, to tell Ash to stay but his mouth stopped responding. And then his eyes surrendered, gave up the battle and fluttered shut. Ah, his new friend, the darkness. Yes, it was nice here, where it didn’t hurt anymore. Where he could slip into nothingness alone. In peace.
