Dark Slayer

Stop thinking about me and fight him the way you always fight.

In the moment that Razvan spoke, every agonizing stroke of the blade flooded back to her, as the vampires chopped her into pieces much the same way Sergey was doing to Razvan. Methodically. Relentlessly. Mercilessly.

Do not try to save me. Think only of killing him.

I cannot defeat him. He was a great warrior. He taught me to fight. He is a master vampire. Even our strongest hunters rarely can defeat them alone.

Who better than you to fight him? You know his every move before he makes it. You have changed over the centuries. He will be expecting that young woman he taught, not the seasoned warrior you have become. He is preying on your emotions. Do not be tricked by one such as he. You are a great warrior, and you, better than any other, can defeat him.

Around them the house began to shake, the walls undulating and breaking apart so that debris rained down on the vampire. Ivory knew Razvan couldn't move with his agonizing, mortal wounds, but was buying her time to regroup, using what remaining energy he had, not to attempt to burrow into the ground, but rather to use his powers to aid her.

Ivory took a deep breath and let it out. Razvan may have been inexperienced, but he had the heart and soul of a warrior-like she did. Never had she seen another warrior so courageous, so stoic. She took another deep breath and let it out, allowing a mantle of calm to settle over her. Razvan was right. She could not allow her feelings to interfere with her primary job. She was a warrior first, a woman second.

She forced herself to look only at the vampire-to see only the vampire. As long as she could keep Sergey focused on her and away from Razvan, she might be able to keep her lifemate alive and slay the vampire. What weapons could be used against this master? Vanity was the one trait that not only all the undead shared, but her brothers in particular.

She changed her appearance subtly, very slowly, softening her features to take on a younger, more girlish look-as in the old days, long before the centuries had passed, when her brothers had loved and cherished her more than their own egos.

Sergey lifted his sword and touched it to his forehead in a mock salute, allowing her to see Razvan's blood running down the blade to the hilt. The ruby drops coated his hand and, with his gaze locked with hers, he licked at the blood.

Her stomach knotted, but she tilted her head to one side and laughed, a taunting, tinkling sound, like that of a young, giddy girl. «You have grown old, Sergey. I thought with all your intelligence and experience, you would become, at the very least, a master vampire, one so powerful it would take our strongest hunters to ban together to defeat you. Yet here you are, struggling to vanquish a woman, your baby sister.»

His eyes glowed with fire. She could actually see tiny flames burning in the dark depths. She had been correct in thinking the way to shake him was through his enormous ego. Sergey swung the sword at her neck, slicing through the air with such force that when she ducked and ran her own sword into his side, the momentum from his swing actually carried him away from her. He screamed, the sound a mixture of pain and rage.

The floor erupted beneath her feet, splintering, so that she nearly fell through. But thanks to her many lessons from her brothers, she was dancing out of the way of the falling floorboards. She could smell the rich soil beckoning from the various holes in the floor.

«Oh dear, you have gotten slow, haven't you? You are nothing more than a weak, withered shadow of your former self. In the days past, one look from you would have crushed me, let alone the might of your sword, but now you play games like the puny coward you are, the way a shriveled and fading old man might play chess with trembling fingers and a mind forgetting the moves.»

Can you bring the rest of the roof down on him? she asked Razvan, hating for him to use up his strength, but needing a distraction.

Of course. There was no hesitation, but she was beginning to know Razvan and his iron will. He wouldn't hesitate, no matter the cost to him.

The roof crumbled with a thunderous roar, the wood and dirt once more falling on Sergey's head and shoulders. It wasn't nearly as effective as the first time, but it bought her the seconds she needed. Ivory tossed the sword to the ground beside Razvan's hand and jerked out the small, handmade laser. It was powered by a diamond she'd cut herself.