He had too much to live for, too many reasons to keep going.
A roar came from somewhere else in the room, accompanied by a flurry of red Death Elf magic. The flash of light lit up the darkness, and the vampire holding Nikhail down snarled.
It was a momentary distraction, but it was what he needed.Nikhail gathered as much of his magic as he could through the pain and threw it at the vampire. A powerful gust of wind slammed into the creature of the night, and its weight shifted.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Even though fire raced through his dislocated arm, even though every damn movement felt like he was being stabbed with hot pokers, he managed to get his fingers to his chest. His injury was severe, and his arm had a heartbeat of its own, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t give up.
The vampire snapped their fangs.
Nikhail sent another wave of magic to keep the creature back. His power was waning; his well was running dry.
Ignoring the pain—because what was pain in the face of never seeing River again—he touched the second stake strapped to his chest.
His attacker lunged. Their fangs sank into his neck, and Nikhail screamed. There was no pleasure here, no relief. Just pure agony that seemed to stretch on forever, bringing him closer to death’s embrace.
It was now or never.
With a warrior’s cry, Nikhail pulled out his remaining stake and shoved it into the vampire’s chest. It sank through flesh and bone, landing squarely in the vampire’s heart.
One moment, the creature was drawing his blood.
The next, they were gasping above him, their fangs no longer in his neck. A drawn-out, eerie wail filled the air.
Although it took far too much effort—gods, he hadn’t been in this much pain in a long, long time—Nikhail flipped them. He straddled the vampire, pressing down on the stake with his good hand and shoving the instrument of death deeper into the creature’s heart.
Time, which had slowed earlier, resumed its brutal pace.
Another cry came from the other side of the room. A groan.
Wings flapped, and another vampire came towards Nikhail. This time, he wouldn’t let them touch him.
He yanked the stake out of his now-dead attacker and turned around, begging the wind to speak to him once more. His magic was draining rapidly, his blood loss making matters worse, but he just needed to hold on long enough to survive this fight.
Ahead of you, came the faint, barely there murmur.
Nikhail charged. Hands brushed his neck, and the vampire snarled. Thethump-thumpof his opponent’s heart was a beacon directing his movements.
The moment they were close enough, he slammed the stake into their heart.
He was an inch off, and gods, the creature of the night fought back. The vampire struggled and screamed and clawed at Nikhail, raking their nails down his face.
He yelled, pulling out the stake and plunging it back into their chest.
This time, death won. The creature of the night fell, its body hitting the floor with a resoundingthud. At the same moment, the shadows vanished.
Light returned to the room, and Nikhail’s eyes widened.
CHAPTER 25
A Really Bad Day
The tables were flipped on their sides, papers were everywhere, and the blood.
By the Sands, the blood. It was everywhere Nikhail looked. He shuddered. Death had visited them, indeed.
With a soldier’s eye, Nikhail assessed the two vampires he’d killed. His first attacker was nothing but an ashy corpse now. Black cobwebs covered his dark skin, and his mouth was open in a never-ending scream.