Reckoning (Book II, The Arotas Trilogy) Page 10

  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.

  Nic
olae 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.

  Nicolae heaves Fane to the door and kicks it open. He shoves Fane’s unconscious form into the dark hall beyond. He turns. “I’m coming back for you.”

  “I know.” She waits for the door to slam shut behind him. Diving into a forward roll, she comes up right in front of the door. She snatches a pool cue from its rack on the wall and jams it through the door handle. “Goodbye, Nicolae.”

  Chapter 16

  Roseline shrieks as her face is smashed into the door, her teeth rattling in her gums. Davros’ stale breath burns in her nose as he presses his chest against her back. “You let my snack escape.”

  Rearing back, she slams her head into Davros’ nose. Blood and bone fragments spurt down his lip, spilling over onto the floor. His grip on her arm loosens as he tilts his head back to slow the flow.

  With a swift elbow to his abdomen, Roseline waits the span of a human heartbeat before she shoves back from the wall. Davros stumbles, his higher center of gravity tugging him to the floor.

  Pointing her toe, Roseline spins and slashes a boot heal line across his jaw. A trail of blood seeps from his new wound, mingling with the crimson trail from his nose. “Come back here, you little wench,” he grunts, his hands flailing to latch around her ankle.

  Roseline flips backward onto the wall and perches atop the pool cue rack. “Looks like you’ve gotten a tad rusty, old man.”

  Davros retrieves her fallen sword and bellows as he flips up onto his feet. The vein coursing down his forehead pulses as his hands clench around the hilt. He swipes at his cheek, staring at the swatch of red along his palm before his forked tongue flickers out to taste it. “Vladimir isn’t here to save you this time.”

  Roseline’s eyes narrow. Like she needed that reminder.

  He crouches, poised to attack. Davros flips Roseline’s sword in his hand so that he grips the tip of the blade and hurls it at Roseline’s heart, like a javelin. She leaps to the beam above and snarls down at him. Her sword quivers as it buries nearly to the hilt in the wall.

  She locks her remaining sword in a death grip as she plots a new strategy. If he disarms her completely, she is done for. Deciding she has greater options with her hands free, Roseline tucks her sword into the sheath at her back and watches Davros pace beneath her.

  “Enough of the games, Roseline. My dinner is escaping.”

  Her feet swing low, hands braced against the wooden beam as she attacks. Her legs wrap around his head as she slams upside down into his back. Her fingertips reach for the ground, desperately trying to toss him over her head, but Davros whips around, twirling her straight into the pool table.

  Bubbles of darkness pop before her eyes. Pain renders her incapable of self-defense as Davros leaps into the air and lands elbow first into her chest. Her torso screams in agony while his fist closes around her sword harness and yanks it free. The leather bites into her flesh before finally snapping. He tosses it aside and the crowd scatters as the sword spirals past them.

  Roseline’s scalp ignites as Davros yanks her to her feet by a fistful of hair. “Just like old times, eh?” He grins, pulling her up next to his face. He breathes deeply, his tongue flickering out of his mouth, tasting her scent. Roseline screams, bucking in his grasp.

  “Now, now,” he coos, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

  His fingers clench tightly around his spike-tipped bronze knuckles. With a roar that rattles storefront windows on the street above, Davros buries his fist into Roseline’s side. She gasps, sucking in air as the sharp tips burrow through the leather corset. The metal boning stops the spikes just short of piercing her skin, but does a number on her ribs.

  Davros growls, yanking his fist free to wind up for another blow. Roseline slumps in his hand. Her vision distorts as blood pools from her scalp where strands of hair have ripped free.

  His fist blurs as he strikes again. Roseline arches her back, narrowly creating a gap. Davros howls as his fist slams into the brick, embedding the spikes deep into wall. Her palm slams upward on his broken nose, shoving splinters of bone into his brain.

  Blood pools behind his left eye. As the pressure builds, small beads of blood form in the corner of his eye. Roseline yanks free of his grasp and falls to the floor. It is hard to think around the pain, to plan her next assault. She knows she is not strong enough to overpower Davros in a fair fight.

  Play dirty, her mind screams.

  Roseline’s gaze flickers around the room in search of a weapon. Her eyes light on the severed bar top. She crawls forward on hands and feet, scurrying just out of Davros’ reach. Her ribs are on fire as she struggles to gasp full breathes. His growl reverberates through her chest cavity as he lurches to his knees.

  She spins, tossing the oak tabletop like a Frisbee. Davros dives to the side just as the wooden disk explodes overhead. Roseline whips around, snatching drinks from the patrons hands and hurls them at his head.

  Davros roars, batting away the shower of crimson glass. “Come back here.”

  Already on the move, Roseline backflips onto the wall and springs forward. Her fists slam into Davros’ stomach. He flies backward into the wall as she staggers back to her feet.

  Her hands tremble as she pulls herself up by the side of the pool table. The muscles in her arms quiver from exhaustion, nerve endings scream in more places than she cares to count. She swipes away blood pooling in her eyebrows, marring her vision.

  Something slams into her back, hurtling her over the table. She shrieks as she crashes to the floor, impaling her arm on a broken chair leg rising from Davros and Fane’s earlier demolition. Blood seeps from the wound, dripping onto the floor.

  His hulking form appears around the end of the pool table, leering down at her. Roseline bites through her lip as she wrenches the spike from her arm. Tears burn her eyes as she tries to flex her fingers. Splinters are buried deep into her flesh, refusing extraction.

  With an enrage howl, she launches it at Davros but he easily ducks aside. Giant hands reach down to ensnare her waist and lift her overhead. Air squelches from her lungs as he slams her onto the pool table. The slab shatters, the felt rips and a cloud of dust rises into the air, coating her bronze tresses.

  Cracks form along the wood frame and with only a small amount of pressure Davros snaps it in two, burying Roseline. The cue ball races toward her, connecting with her temple. The others drop out of their leather pockets and pelt her at random places but she barely notices the added pain.

  She hugs her side, fighting for breath as her broken ribs pierce her lungs. Her wheezing draws a smirk from Davros. “So fragile. Vladimir was wrong to protect you.”

  He leans down into her face, eyes ablaze with disgust. “He made you weak.”

  Her hand flutters around beside her in search of a weapon. The billiard balls have escaped down the length of her body and spilled out onto the floor, rolling in all directions. The torn felt offers nothing more than tiny shards of slate. Her skin tears as she jabs her palm onto the broken tip of a cue stick. Her fingers clasp around it as she arches up to spit in his face. “I. Am. Not. Weak.”

  Davros’ jaw falls slack as she plunges the pool cue deep into his chest. The jagged tip slips between his ribs as he falls to the side. Gasping, Roseline rolls up onto her knees.

  She grips the cue protruding from his chest and leans into it, slowly piercing his heart. Davros’ eyes widen in panic, his hands weakly trying to shove her away. Roseline holds firm, shoving with the last of her strength, until the cue reaches t
he floor.

  Blood gurgles from Davros’ mouth. Vacant eyes stare up at her. The only sound that remains is the dripping of his heart expelling the last few drops of his lifeblood, pooling into his chest cavity.

  Davros falls limp.

  Roseline slumps to the ground, wiping the blood from her face. She glares at the crowd, spitting a wad of blood in their direction and they scatter. Some flee for the dance floor while others race on past and escape through the main exit. None attempt to inch past Roseline to head for the rear exit.

  Her arms give out on her, spilling her to the floor. Her chest wheezes loudly as she stares up at the ceiling above. The lights dims as a shadow crosses her blurred vision.