Reckoning (14 page)

“That is Brules’ son?”

“What’s left of him.”
 
Roseline fights to control her panic.
 
The slow song ends and leaps into a fast tempo.
 
Killer guitar riffs fill the air, but Roseline feels none of it.
 
“Davros possesses special skills that Vladimir has called on in the past.
 
They normally carry the victim out in bags.”

Nicolae’s brow crinkles.
 
“That’s the guy you’re afraid of?”

She nods weakly.
 
“He was my trainer.”

Understanding blooms on his face.
 
“Fane is going after him, isn’t he?
 
He wants revenge?”

“Yes, among other things.”

Nicolae shakes Roseline’s shoulders, forcing her to meet his stern gaze.
 
“If he trained you, then you know his weaknesses, right?”

Roseline drops her gaze.
 
“Maybe.
 
I don’t know.”

“Think, Roseline.”

She blinks, pushing back her fear.
 
“Um…his pride, I guess.
 
He doesn’t think anyone can beat him.”

Nicolae’s jaw flinches.
 
“Can you?”

“Anyone else, yes, but him…” she pauses to look at Davros, “I honestly don’t know.”

“Ok.”
 
His hand wraps around Roseline’s upper arm.
 
“Time to go.” Roseline stumbles backward as he tugs her away.

 
“No,” she yanks her arm out of his grasp.
 
Several immortals pause to watch their interaction but quickly avert their attention at Davros’ mighty bellow.
 
Like a stampeding bull, head lowered and grunting, he charges into the billiard room.
 
“Oh no,” Roseline moans.
 
“He’s found Fane.”
  

Chapter 15

Fane looks terrible.
 
His jawline has disappeared into a mass of twisted stubble.
 
His eyes are sunken, cheeks gaunt with exhaustion, but even still, his beauty calls to Roseline.
 

She frowns as she notices the stain darkening his side.
 
“He hasn’t healed,” Nicolae whispers into her ear.

Roseline’s eyes droop closed as she inwardly groans.
 
This is even worse than she thought.
 
He must be weak from blood loss, held back by his pain.
 
What could he be thinking to take on Davros in such a state?
 

“He doesn’t stand a chance,” she mutters, rising up onto her toes to see over the crowd.
 
At least a hundred immortals now stand between her and Fane, with Davros smack dab in the middle of the circle.
 
Her brain cranks out alternate exit strategies, but each idea she latches onto is quickly tossed aside.
 

Davros is too smart to be tricked, but…maybe she can distract him long enough to let Nicolae escape with Fane.

Roseline sinks back down.
 
She shifts side to side, searching for her gap.
 
Nicolae grabs her arm, forcing her to look at him.
 
“Don’t do anything stupid.
 
You know he can’t be helped.”

“You’re wrong,” she protests, yanking her arm free.
 
“It’s not too late.”

Nicolae winces, staring over her shoulder as Davros throws his first punch.
 
“Yeah, it kinda is.”

The blow lands squarely on Fane’s jaw.
 
A mixture of spittle and blood splatters the front line of bystanders.
 
A cry of outrage rises from a life-size blonde Barbie doll as she swipes the offending goo from her glittery cheek.

Fane’s skull bounces off the brick wall, rebounding like a basketball still in play.
 
He rises slowly, glowering up at Davros.
 
What he lacks in stature he gains in agility.
 
Fane ducks low, narrowly missing the second punch.
 
He spins and lands a direct hit on Davros’ bulbous nose.

Davros absorbs the blow with a sickening crunch.
 
“That tickles,” he leers.
 
His meaty hands grasp Fane’s shirt and launch him across the room.
 
Patrons flee as Fane crashes through a bar top table.
 
The table legs splinter, the edge of the table slams into his wounded side.

Fane screams, legs buckling under as he plummets to the floor. Davros stomps over and laces his fingers together, forming a double fist, and slams it down onto Fane’s spine.
 
Bystanders cover their ears as Fane’s howl reaches the rafters.
 

The music track stutters to a halt as the stragglers on the dance floor rush toward the brawl.
 
The DJ eyes his empty dance floor and shrugs.
 
He leaps over the sound booth and holds up a handful of creased bills as Easy Jake, a sleazy immortal with a flair for black market dealings, steps forward to start the bidding.
  

Roseline watches, sickened, as money waves like holiday streamers in the air.
 
Hooting and pumping fists cheer on the enraged duelers. Fane stumbles to his feet, his reaction time greatly hindered, as he cradles his side.
 

Davros sneers at Fane, crouched low, like a tiger on the prowl.
 
It is obvious to everyone in the room that he does not intend to let his prey escape.

“I was hoping you would find me first.”
 
Davros rounds on Fane, slamming his booted foot into Fane’s right leg.
 
Everything below his kneecap shatters.
  

Fane buckles, spilling to the ground.
 
Davros hovers overhead, his rank breath pouring from between gritted teeth.
 
His hand sinks into his pocket and pulls out a pair of brass knuckles.
 
Fane uses his good arm to pull himself away.
 

He braces against the wall, with nowhere to go.
 
Roseline’s grip on Nicolae pinches off his circulation as Davros presses a small latch on the end of the knuckles- inch long spikes protrude from each finger hole.
 

Roseline cries out, her legs giving way as the sound of Fane’s shattering bones rips through the room.
 
Davros strikes repeatedly.
 
The crowd falls silent, in awe of Davros’ brutality.
 
His exploits are the stuff of legend.

She climbs back up Nicolae’s body.
 
Her vision burns red as she locks her gaze on him.

“Don’t do it,” Nicolae warns.
 

His fingers fail to catch hold of her as she spins and dives through the crowd.
 
The sound of Fane’s moist wheezing spurns her on.
 
Davros has punctured his lungs.
 
Next he will go for Fane’s heart.

“Get out of my way,” she screeches, carving a path through the crowd, launching immortals out of her way.

Nicolae curses and follows quickly behind, using the ripples of Roseline’s wake to slip through nearly unnoticed.
 
“Wait up.”

Fane slumps against the wall, his face twisted into an agonized grimace.
 
He cups his side, blood pouring freely from a myriad of fresh wounds.
 
Davros’ shadow darkens his face.

His hand clamps around Fane’s neck, lifting him high overhead.
 
A cheer rises, while others swear and hand over their money.
 
They deem Fane’s fate to be sealed.
 

Fane’s fingers pry against the tight grip, his legs fighting for purchase on Davros’ waist.
 
Davros’ fingers tighten, digging into Fane’s neck, threatening to collapse his vocal cords.

Roseline snarls as she breaches the front wall of onlookers.
 
She whips out of her leather coat and draws her swords.
 
The first strike must disable him.
 

Protests come too late as Roseline launches herself into the air.
 
Fane’s eyes widen with surprise as she arcs, planting her sword down the center of Davros’ neck.
 
Sinew severs from his spine as Fane drops from his weakened grasp.
 
Davros stumbles, his hands frantically reaching for the sword hilt.

Roseline lands on the balls of her feet and leaps overhead.
 
The toe of her boot slams the blade in deeper as she flips over Davros’ head.
 
His enraged eyes meet hers as she drops into a crouch before Fane.

He stumbles toward the crowd as he flails in vain for the hilt.
 
They retreat, making a clear path as he approaches.
 
His eyes drill into a human girl who has tripped over her own feet in attempt to escape. Blood retracts from her extremities back to her heart as Davros hangs over her.
 
“Pull.
 
It.
 
Out.”

“Nicolae,” Roseline screams. He bursts from the crowd just as Davros yanks the teen to her feet.
 
“Get Fane out of here.”

“You’re coming to,” Nicolae yells, sliding on his knees to Fane’s side.
 
Blood seeps from Fane’s wound over his slippery hands.
 
His face is nearly white with shock.
 
Like a fish out of water, he gasps for breath.

“No,” she shakes her head, her eyes never leaving Davros as the terrified human yanks the sword free from the base of his neck.
 
The girl’s eyes roll back into her head and she slumps, unnoticed, to the floor.
 
Davros cocks his head to the side, as if merely stretching a muscle.
 

“He will only follow us.
 
You have to go, while there’s still time,” Roseline pleads, shoving at Nicolae’s arm.

Davros snatches a pint of blood from a willowy woman’s hand, splashing the liquid onto her bare neck.
 
Her partner eyes the splatters with unquenched thirst.
 
Davros tips the mug back.
 
Thick blood oozes down his chin as he downs it in three gulps.

The glass mug torpedoes through the air to shatter against the wall.
 
Soulless black eyes meet Roseline’s as Davros swipes his arm across his mouth.
 
The smear of blood makes his snake tattoo shimmer in the light.

“Nicolae, go now,” she screams, pushing off the floor.
 
She spins her remaining sword in front of her, coiling her muscles as he approaches.
 

“You shouldn’t have come, Roseline,” Davros taunts, his blood stained lips pulled back into a sneer.
 
His hands grip her sword hilt tightly in his hand.
 
“Almost feels like home, doesn’t it?”
 

Roseline shudders.
 
Yes, but here she will not have Vladimir to keep him in check.
 

Practice is over.
 

“I heard you were looking for me,” she counters, stepping cautiously forward, keeping Nicolae and Fane shielded behind her back.
 
No movement from behind her.
 
What is Nicolae waiting for?

Davros’ lips curl.
 
“And here you are.
 
Come back for another lesson, have you?”

“Nope,” she pulls the sword upright into a defensive position.
 
“Just came for my friend.”

At the mention of Fane, Davros shifts, forcing Roseline to reveal her friends.
 
“Who is the human?” he growls.
 
His forked tongue, cut to resemble a snake, flicks out over his lips.
 
“He smells tasty.”

“Touch him and I promise you won’t live to see dawn.”

“Oh?
 
Touchy.”
 
His brow rises in surprise.
 
“I will make sure to take great pleasure in dismembering him later, once I’m finished with you, of course.”
 
Davros laughs as Nicolae begins to rise, his face contorted with rage.
   

Roseline glances back over her shoulder.
 
“I told you to go.”

“No, no,” Davros purrs menacingly, “let the boy stay.
 
Wouldn’t want him to miss the show.”

“Nicolae,” her eyes plead with him as he reaches from his hidden dagger, “leave now.”

Fane slides down the wall to lay against the floor, too weak to hold himself up any longer.
 
His glazed eyes struggle to focus.
 
“Help me,” he gurgles.
 
Blood seeps from between his lips.

Nicolae groans.
 
He has no choice but to leave.
 
Fane will die without his help.
 
“Fine.”
 
He wraps his arm tightly around Fane’s waist and heads for the door.
 

Davros snarls, turning to intercept.
 
“Where do you think you’re going?”

Roseline shoves her sword deep into the mortar of the stone floor and slams both feet into his chest.
 
Davros tumbles backwards, the floor slabs cracking as his head bashes against them.
 

“Go!
 
Now!” Roseline shouts.