Only to see a blur out my left periphery, rounding the side of the cathedral from the north. I spin, sword drawn, knees bent, sliding to a halt and kicking up dirt—
Skartovius Ashfen stares at me. Behind him, bodies flood down the hillside to join my fighters. No, the people behind Skartovius arevampires.
With a shocked gasp, I snap my gaze to the hill. My mind screams:Treachery!
Then my head tilts. The vampires Skartovius brought move like the wind and they’re fighting . . . other vampires.
The arrogant nobleblood smirks at me. “Not a sight you see every day, is it?”
“You came,” I breathe.
“Of course I came.”
“Sephania wasn’t so sure.”
He scoffs, high and haughty. “Bullshit. I’d never forsake my little temptress.”
“Join me?” I nudge my chin toward the cathedral. “I reckon there will be plenty more in there.”
“Gladly. My blade lacks a significant sheen of blood. Lead the way, Silverknight.”
We charge together past ornate pillars holding up the facade of the building, under the awning they keep erect. We put our hands on either side of the double doors, carved with wolf’s heads and raven’s eyes—
And Skartovius hisses. Pulls his hand back like he’s touched fire. I reckon hehas.His palm is smoking as he shakes it out.
“Fuck.” He frowns at me. “No good for a vampire.”
My brow furrows. “You’re telling me there aren’t vampires in that fucking church of the Damned?”
“Ones that are initiated to their faith, perhaps. Not the uninitiated, like me. She has created a barrier for her diabolical purposes.”
“That clever bitch Valenthia,” I growl. “Keep out the dangerous vampires, keep only the sycophants inside.”
“Precisely.” He quirks a handsome smile at me, and it reminds me of Culiar, which makes my soul ache. My friend-turned-lover who died in one of this man’s treacherous shadowgalas. “Looks like you’re on your own, Silverknight. I’ll watch your back.”
How times change. Killed my lover, now we’re working together.
I grit my teeth, nod firmly, turn my head—
And feel a presence drop into the shadows behind me from the nearest pillar. Skartovius’ eyes tells me he sees i, over my shoulder, moving fast, skulking like a phantom.
I grip my sword to spin—
But then Skartovius’ hand shoots out, sending his sword flying at me like a dart, perfectly straight, reflection of my eyes in the point of that blade, and I have no time to twirl or swing or do anything butduck.
The sword warbles over my head, singing in my ears an inch above my skull—
Thuddinginto something. A gurgle and splatter of warmth on the back of my neck.
From my knees, I wheel round—
To see Indokkus Shirin clutching at his chest where Skartovius sword has embedded. He spits up blood, shocked, stumbling back before collapsing. Ashfen’s sword toss was a perfect strike into his former soldier’s heart.
“NO!”
The heart-stricken wail has me twisting again, recoiling as I turn to running feet pounding the pavement toward me—
Vanison Shirin’s sword is cocked back, a foot away from my face, and I gasp as his arm descends, trying to futilely lift my sword in time to parry him, knowing there’s no chance—