Vampires streamed all around them, coming from the front door.
I took a step forward. “Lukain!”
An arrow from the high window, the mysterious archer, took out one of the fullbloods trying to join the duel. Other vampires became locked in combat against each other. I had no idea who was enemy or ally.
None of them,I decided.I don’t trust any of them.
Lukain chanced a look over his shoulder at the sound of my warning cry.
It was the split second Skartovius needed to plunge his blade into Lukain’s chest.
I gasped, nearly dropping my sword in the grass from utter panic.
Lukain’s face twisted, eyes flaring when they locked onto me. Then his chest began to . . . smoke. Tendrils of wispy gray fumes coiled into the air from his body.
My master faced Skartovius to try and defend himself, stumbling back—
As an arrow whistled through the flames of the vampire inferno and plunged into his neck. The arrow impaled him and Lukain went rigid where he stood.
“No!” I wailed. I made a step toward the battle—
A hand grabbed my elbow like a vise grip, tugging me back. “It’s too late for him. Come on!”
I spun at the familiar voice in the shadows, raising my sword—
Red eyes and a shiny bald pate, slightly tapered ears jutting out. It was Garroway Kuffich, the grayskin and rival who had beaten me in the ring my first shadowgala.
The shock on my face must have been evident.
His hard face softened with concern. “Come, lass. Your master is dead. I can take you to safety.”
I gulped hard, tossing a look over my shoulder.
It was a picturesque moment before me, inking itself onto my brain for eternity: Lukain Pierken on his knees, wobbling inplace, with Lord Skartovius Ashfen standing over him, towering like a gaunt behemoth, long hair flowing, sword pointed at Lukain’s neck. Behind them, the raging fire of the burning vampire painted the vampire lord and my master in a red, glowing silhouette.
Garroway pulled on my arm again. “Don’t kill yourself over nothing.”
“W-What . . . is happening?”
“I’m assuming Master Lukain did something he was not supposed to. Angered the wrong vampire.”
My brow furrowed. What in the Faithless was that supposed to mean?
“People heard you call to him, Sephania. They’ll be running to scour these hedges soon. Come with me or die.”
When put that way, Garroway’s choice was no choice at all. It snapped me from my heady stupor. Lukain’s odd words from the past jolted me into action:“Protect your blood, little grimmer.”
Rirth and Culiar were gone and I had no chance of finding them without running into bloodsuckers who likely wanted me dead. Or Diplomats. Or maybe even my Grimson “friends” wanted me dead at this point, too.
There was nothing I could do here to save anyone.
All I knew was Garroway had not harmed me in the alley when I was a child. It would’ve been so easy for him to have drained me and satiated his thirst. He did not kill me when he had the chance during the shadowgala, either.
Swallowing my pride, my dignity, and my hope, I took one more pitying glance at Lukain’s body.
He was prostrate on the ground now, face down.
Dead. The half-vampire who had been my master for five long years, who had taught me everything I knew about fighting and defending myself.
