The Force of Wind
Page 73
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Her sword sliced through the thick muscle and bone with a sickening, wet sound, and the head fell to the grass with a soft thunk. Beatrice stared for only a second before she fell to her knees and regurgitated what was left of the blood in her stomach over the headless corpse. She saw the other guard come toward her and rolled to the side, standing in a ready pose.
Lorenzo must have been watching.
“Well, that was fun.” She heard him say. “And somewhat disgusting. Must have been her first. She’s better than I would have thought for a young one. Looks like those lessons paid off, Beatrice.”
“I try.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.
“I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you.”
Stephen was still speaking calmly. “Give me the book and no one has to get hurt, Lorenzo. Zhang’s vampires are already on their way.” Stephen began circling his sire. “Zhongli’s treachery has been revealed. The council knows what you are doing.”
“As if I care about the council!” Lorenzo scoffed, and she heard the clang of swords. She glanced over and saw Lorenzo and her father parrying. A breeze wafted the scent of blood toward her, and her throat burned. Her opponent only grinned.
“Hungry, little one?”
“You’re not really my flavor, thanks.”
He chuckled and his fangs ran lower. “But I think you might be mine.”
“Yeah?” She feinted to the right before she swept her arm back to slice his thigh. “I really don’t agree.”
She took a second to find her father. Stephen was facing Lorenzo and one other vampire. He had his sword drawn on Lorenzo’s guard and Lorenzo was looking on in amusement. She blinked and missed the quick thrust and parry of her father and his opponent before she turned her attention back to her own fight. The blond vampire she faced had used her distraction to sweep her leg with his own, and Beatrice was thrown off balance as she stumbled back. She quickly regained her footing and returned thrusts as he grinned with bared fangs in the moonlight.
It was all so quick. And yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She saw a head with short, dark hair roll near her feet and realized that her father must have killed the vampire he was fighting. She was distracted by the gaping mouth and empty eyes that stared at her, and her opponent took the opportunity to leave a deep gash in her right arm.
“Argh!” Beatrice cried out when she felt the sharp clank of his blade against her bone. She lost her grip on the dao and rolled away from the vampire, scurrying toward the bushes as her opponent turned and joined the fight between Lorenzo and her father. Stephen was once again facing two attackers.
“No!” She stood again, clutching her arm as she tried to dive toward her weapon, but Lorenzo saw her. He stepped back and ran toward her sword, snatching it up and tossing it into the river.
“Look who lost her sword!” he gloated. “Didn’t Giovanni teach you better? Never lose your weapon, girl. That was beaten into my brain more times than I could count. He must be getting soft not to have trained you as well.”
Beatrice’s eyes darted around, looking for help from any direction. She had no sword. She was ravenously hungry, and her panic was beginning to overwhelm her. She saw the victorious light in Lorenzo’s eyes, and it only made her more frantic.
“Dad?” she called, but Stephen was still dueling with the other guard. Lorenzo was walking toward her. She looked at the river with longing, wishing she could run toward its dark depths and swim away, but she knew she couldn’t leave her father. In a last ditch effort, she ran toward Lorenzo, diving down and curling into a ball at the last minute to knock his legs out from under him. The ground felt like nothing. The only pain she registered was the sharp slice in her arm, which had been healing, but broke open again.
“Oh,” Lorenzo said, laughing in a heap on the ground. “Are we supposed to fight hand-to-hand now because you’ve lost your weapon? Precious thing, don’t you know I don’t fight fair?”
He popped up, grabbing his own saber where it had fallen. Beatrice was crouched on the other side of the clearing, clutching her arm and waiting for his approach. She could still see her father battling the last guard, but now, both were drawing from the water in the river, throwing waves toward each other as they tried to throw the other off balance.
“Giovanni and Baojia are coming,” she panted.
“But they’re not here now, are they?” Lorenzo kept walking toward her. He curled his lip and ripped at the front of his robe, tearing it from the collar and tossing the blood-soaked rag in her direction. Beatrice caught the sweet smell and turned toward it instinctively, snapping at the cloth as it covered her face. She was blind when he kicked her to the ground.
“Did you think to challenge me?” he yelled. She tried to gather her energy. The world swam around her. She was hurt. Hungry. Her head swam from smoke and blood.
It was too much.
Her father grunted at the edge of the clearing opposite her.
Her arm throbbed, itching and aching as it tried to knit together.
The edge of a blade hooked the blood-soaked rag and pulled it from her face. Lorenzo stood over her with a grin, laughing at the tears in her eyes.
Too much.
Beatrice felt the tip of his sword slowly pierce her stomach, thrusting into her gut as he ran it through her body and deep into the ground below. Blood spilled out beneath her. She coughed once, and it flooded her mouth.
“It’s all quite overwhelming, isn’t it?” he whispered, bending down to stroke a finger along her jaw. She felt his finger gather up the blood as it dripped from her mouth. He lifted it to his lips and tasted. Then he grinned and bent down, licking the drips that ran down her neck.
Lorenzo must have been watching.
“Well, that was fun.” She heard him say. “And somewhat disgusting. Must have been her first. She’s better than I would have thought for a young one. Looks like those lessons paid off, Beatrice.”
“I try.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.
“I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you.”
Stephen was still speaking calmly. “Give me the book and no one has to get hurt, Lorenzo. Zhang’s vampires are already on their way.” Stephen began circling his sire. “Zhongli’s treachery has been revealed. The council knows what you are doing.”
“As if I care about the council!” Lorenzo scoffed, and she heard the clang of swords. She glanced over and saw Lorenzo and her father parrying. A breeze wafted the scent of blood toward her, and her throat burned. Her opponent only grinned.
“Hungry, little one?”
“You’re not really my flavor, thanks.”
He chuckled and his fangs ran lower. “But I think you might be mine.”
“Yeah?” She feinted to the right before she swept her arm back to slice his thigh. “I really don’t agree.”
She took a second to find her father. Stephen was facing Lorenzo and one other vampire. He had his sword drawn on Lorenzo’s guard and Lorenzo was looking on in amusement. She blinked and missed the quick thrust and parry of her father and his opponent before she turned her attention back to her own fight. The blond vampire she faced had used her distraction to sweep her leg with his own, and Beatrice was thrown off balance as she stumbled back. She quickly regained her footing and returned thrusts as he grinned with bared fangs in the moonlight.
It was all so quick. And yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She saw a head with short, dark hair roll near her feet and realized that her father must have killed the vampire he was fighting. She was distracted by the gaping mouth and empty eyes that stared at her, and her opponent took the opportunity to leave a deep gash in her right arm.
“Argh!” Beatrice cried out when she felt the sharp clank of his blade against her bone. She lost her grip on the dao and rolled away from the vampire, scurrying toward the bushes as her opponent turned and joined the fight between Lorenzo and her father. Stephen was once again facing two attackers.
“No!” She stood again, clutching her arm as she tried to dive toward her weapon, but Lorenzo saw her. He stepped back and ran toward her sword, snatching it up and tossing it into the river.
“Look who lost her sword!” he gloated. “Didn’t Giovanni teach you better? Never lose your weapon, girl. That was beaten into my brain more times than I could count. He must be getting soft not to have trained you as well.”
Beatrice’s eyes darted around, looking for help from any direction. She had no sword. She was ravenously hungry, and her panic was beginning to overwhelm her. She saw the victorious light in Lorenzo’s eyes, and it only made her more frantic.
“Dad?” she called, but Stephen was still dueling with the other guard. Lorenzo was walking toward her. She looked at the river with longing, wishing she could run toward its dark depths and swim away, but she knew she couldn’t leave her father. In a last ditch effort, she ran toward Lorenzo, diving down and curling into a ball at the last minute to knock his legs out from under him. The ground felt like nothing. The only pain she registered was the sharp slice in her arm, which had been healing, but broke open again.
“Oh,” Lorenzo said, laughing in a heap on the ground. “Are we supposed to fight hand-to-hand now because you’ve lost your weapon? Precious thing, don’t you know I don’t fight fair?”
He popped up, grabbing his own saber where it had fallen. Beatrice was crouched on the other side of the clearing, clutching her arm and waiting for his approach. She could still see her father battling the last guard, but now, both were drawing from the water in the river, throwing waves toward each other as they tried to throw the other off balance.
“Giovanni and Baojia are coming,” she panted.
“But they’re not here now, are they?” Lorenzo kept walking toward her. He curled his lip and ripped at the front of his robe, tearing it from the collar and tossing the blood-soaked rag in her direction. Beatrice caught the sweet smell and turned toward it instinctively, snapping at the cloth as it covered her face. She was blind when he kicked her to the ground.
“Did you think to challenge me?” he yelled. She tried to gather her energy. The world swam around her. She was hurt. Hungry. Her head swam from smoke and blood.
It was too much.
Her father grunted at the edge of the clearing opposite her.
Her arm throbbed, itching and aching as it tried to knit together.
The edge of a blade hooked the blood-soaked rag and pulled it from her face. Lorenzo stood over her with a grin, laughing at the tears in her eyes.
Too much.
Beatrice felt the tip of his sword slowly pierce her stomach, thrusting into her gut as he ran it through her body and deep into the ground below. Blood spilled out beneath her. She coughed once, and it flooded her mouth.
“It’s all quite overwhelming, isn’t it?” he whispered, bending down to stroke a finger along her jaw. She felt his finger gather up the blood as it dripped from her mouth. He lifted it to his lips and tasted. Then he grinned and bent down, licking the drips that ran down her neck.
