Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1) Page 3

  Calyx was not affected by the sun because of her Fae blood, but Brynn felt the searing pain of it on her face and the side of her throat, causing her to cry out and flinch away from it as both Bayn and Terran ran for cover within the shadows. The remainder of her small troop, including Ryder, ducked away from it as quickly as they could.

  Her hand rose to her face to shield it from further damage as she turned away and stumbled out of the foyer and into the living room to the left, her energy being zapped out of her from the injury and sudden contact with the sun’s rays. Her knees nearly buckled, causing her to trip on the beautiful Oriental rug in the living room and fall to her knees beside the large glass and metal coffee table. She almost couldn’t hear the steady thump of metal on wood as the weapons of their enemy penetrated their home, causing Brynn to think they definitely needed to see about modern security systems and weaponry. She had been trying to avoid them, but it looked as if they would have to bite the bullet.

  “Brynn,” Calyx cried, kept at bay on the other side of the foyer by the mass of weapons barreling inside.

  Brynn dropped her hand from her face despite the searing and debilitating pain, turning toward the voice of her friend and comrade. She couldn’t make her out through the light, her eyes barely making the attempt to adjust to the brightness because of her injury. Once hit by the sun, even a minuscule amount, your body would turn all energies and blood supply to the area to speed healing, making it the most debilitating injury any vampire could sustain.

  Brynn heard Calyx’s voice over the harsh sounds of battle, as she raised one tiny fist above her head of curls and screamed, “Umbra!”

  Immediately there was a hush as the sun temporarily dimmed as a shadow descended through the atmosphere and hovered like a pall over Brynn’s part of Los Angeles. It wasn’t something that could be picked up on weather monitoring equipment, and only the Fae and angels and vampires would be able to see that the sudden dimming of sunlight was caused by a massive being of shadow, shaped roughly like a stingray.

  Though Brynn’s torture eased she was immediately suffused with guilt. How many times had Calyx been forced to call upon such ancient magic on her behalf? There was a price attached to seeking their aid, and it was a price that Brynn never wanted Calyx to have to pay.

  Freed from her torture by light, Brynn stood and stumbled into the fray.

  Chapter Four:

  Battle Born

  It was a blessing that few humans looked skyward anymore unless there was a bright light by night or a loud sound that alerted them to the presence of something sinister.

  As the sun finally slid over the edge of the horizon, the Umbra that Calyx summoned to save Brynn from any more painful burns inflicted by the sun’s glaring rays lifted. For those that had either the second or third sight, it floated away as if it had the subtle pectoral fins of a sea creature, graceful and silent. It blocked the emerging stars in vast areas of the night sky as it drifted away, turning the bright day into protective faux nightfall.

  A battle cry rose up from the Electi as the change transpired, making them feel joyous as the fight inside of them only grew and needed to be expelled through their shouts. This was the moment they had been waiting for, the moment where they could slay any Liquidator or traitorous fiend that entered their walls.

  The enemy flew in from every direction, and occasionally a fireball arched through the air and hurtled toward them at blinding speed, crashing into the grounds and lighting patches of grass aflame. Several of the Warriors were stationed near Brynn’s home and armed with fire extinguishers, ready to put out any fires that ignited around the periphery of the mansion’s extensive property. It had been an unusually dry season, spawning epic wildfires in the hills around Los Angeles, so the hedges and vegetation surrounding the old building caught fire instantly when the flames licked at them with greedy tongues. Startled cries floated into the empty sky, smoke and steam rising from it and filling their lungs as they waged war against the enemy that had penetrated their walls. The mansion was surrounded by two large walls with entrance gates that required a code to get in, but somehow the Liquidators had managed to climb them or break the barriers completely to gain entry.

  Calyx was instantly attacked by a youth wearing a black hood. A sheaf of blond hair hung over one eye, and the uncovered eye glowed phosphorescent green. She recognized the glowing orb instantly because she also possessed them within her own skull.

  “Turncoat!” Calyx cried out, angrily believing that these traitors all needed to burn.

  All but the most devious and reprobate of the Fae Folk fought with the Electi, based on an ancient accord forged long ago when the Liquidators had first emerged and slain an entire village. Calyx wondered momentarily why any creature with even a drop of Fae blood would fight on the side of the Liquidators seeing as they killed most other magical beings on sight even though they were also one themselves.

  She soon had her answer. As the male entity raised his sword to deal her what was meant to be a death blow, she saw the permanent branding on the inside of his wrist. She immediately recognized the brand, which looked like a circle captured on the crest of a wave. It was meant to represent a bubble on the surface of the water. Unstable and unreliable.

  Forsaken.

  To have been branded this way meant the recipient had likely killed an innocent and was probably an escapee from an ‘Iron Slam’-- a special prison for Fairies who had proven to be violent deviates. How any of the Fae captors there escaped was beyond Calyx, but she fought against him nonetheless, knowing she must kill him or die at his hand. And she would not have the latter.

  This recognition made Calyx even more determined that he would meet his death at her hand.

  There was a loud clang as his sword hit her upraised blade. Before he could reverse his forward momentum to launch a second blow, she pushed the sharp edge of her sword across his face, ripping open the skin across the bridge of his nose and across his cheek to his ear. When he turned back to her after stumbling a few steps backward his eyes were filled with rage, his mouth twisted into a growl as he gritted his teeth. Blood poured from the wound and Calyx could smell the foul and bitter evil within it in the air, causing nausea to roll in her gut.

  “Focula!” he swore in the Fae tongue, calling her a bitch.

  Calyx then slid a jeweled dagger from a sheath along her waist. It was the silver one set with rubies and obsidian that Brynn had given her for her last birthday, and she adored it. Without a moment’s hesitation, she drove it into his chest. She turned the blade up, letting him feel the agony of a blow that dealt the final death of an Electi and twisting it.

  “Zbina et zbina daeca!” she railed at him, watching with satisfaction as his blood ran in thick green streams, sparkling with the magic within it.

  Her war cry was a common one and roughly translated meant, “Die and die badly.” The youth slumped first to his knees, then fell to the ground face first as the blade slipped from the confines if his body. He was dead. She had felt her blade pierce his heart, stopping its incessant beating almost immediately.

  Another attacker, who was clumsy, quickly occupied Calyx and was chaotic compared to the last one. She craned her neck through the dust to see Tarren shoving a sword directly down the throat of an enemy and then pulling it out in a gush of blood and entrails. The Twin’s height advantage had allowed them to develop their own unique killing styles and every other individual within the Electi wanted so badly to learn, but never possessed the same gift of height. They were two of very, very few.

  ***

  Near Tarren was Brynn, not allowing her height to detract in the least from her swordsmanship as she slashed and immolated any who came in proximity to her. She’d found that the fireballs being lobbed were magical in nature, and though they burned out, she had managed to snag a few as they flew above her head. She turned her sword into a flaming harbinger of death for a few valuable seconds before the flames subsided, slashing any Liquidator that d
are approach her and leaving a slash of fire across their bellies as intestines spilled out of them and onto the beautiful lawn.

  Brynn was determined to work her way to the imposing figure that was standing not even twenty yards from her watching the fray, who was not only dressed head to toe in black but also had a black suede mask over his face. The mask had holes for eyes and metal cage work where his mouth should be. It glinted menacingly in the twilight of the magical shield of the night that Calyx had thrown over the city. He seemed to be protectively surrounded by a rotating circle of his fiercest warriors, but with Bayn and Tarren at her side, she slowly advanced toward her ultimate target as the man’s eyes watched her. Studied her with incredulity and interest.

  “Help me up!” she demanded of Tarren as they came within a few yards.

  Tarren grinned. He knew exactly what she meant. With one motion he swung her up on his shoulders where she stood with perfect balance, hair whipped by the wind, her eyes half closed against the gritty dust in the air but still able to make out her target perfectly through her lashes.

  When the enemy ranks broke, and she had a clear shot at the menacing dark figure, she leaped, moving through the warm air with perfect grace.

  Of course, he held his sword up and at an angle as he saw her catapulting toward him, but she surprised him by curling up into a ball in midair and coming in lower than he’d anticipated. It was a beautiful, acrobatic move, and one of her favorites when she was faced with Liquidators, whose ranks often included giants of eight feet or more while few of the Electi’s own ranks possessed this strength. Their men were large and built like warriors, but Tarren and Bayn were some of the tallest she had ever seen, towering over everyone.

  On her way down, she sliced down his side, hoping to see his bowels tumble out into the dust and grass. That part didn’t go according to plan because her sword hit metal instead. The metal clang rang through her weapon, causing it to vibrate in her hands.

  As a backup, she always had a dagger in her left hand, and it was that she used to plunge into his chest, causing his blood to well up around it. He fell to the ground quickly and when she fell on top of him, she straddled his hips and continued to push down on the weapon, her fangs elongating with the joy of her kill. But he wasn’t dead. She could sense it as his eyes stared up at hers.

  Seeing him fall, his ranks had broken and scattered in retreat, many of them picked off by the rest of her soldiers.

  “Come on, Daughter of the Electi,” Bayn said as he tried to lift her off the Leader of the attack by gently pulling her up by her arm.

  She grunted in frustration as Bayn then grabbed her around the waist to pull her back, but she wanted to know more about the man she had just attempted to slay.

  “I’m fine, Bayn. Put me down!”

  He did as she requested, suddenly dropping her and causing her to stumble, but she recovered quickly and sauntered to the man’s body on the ground. She removed her short dagger and was staring at the wound she’d just inflicted; confused by what she saw once she did so. She kneeled beside the man and every instinct in her body told her to turn and run as far away from him as she could, but she resisted it. Her fangs began to throb because of the threat he presented.

  She tried to figure out why the blood that was seeping out of this creature was not the black blood of a Liquidator or the slightly green glittering substance from a Fae Turncoat, but the red blood of another phylum of being altogether.

  “Wait,” she said holding up one small pale hand, “I want this enemy leader taken prisoner. Bind his wounds, but make sure he is chained. I will need to interrogate him as soon as I am able. I want to know who he is and where he came from.”

  Bayn squatted down beside Brynn. He saw what she had been staring at for the first time, and he whistled, the sound low and haunting.

  “Well you nearly finished him off, Brynn,” he said thoughtfully, staring at the motionless man. “I am not sure that he will survive this.”

  Tarren stopped next to his brother and mused, “Well, then maybe we should have a look under that mask, bother?”

  Tarren bent down also and ripped off the marauder’s mask. The head lifted and fell back on the ground, rolling to the side.

  He was handsome. A sheen of sweat coated the beautiful planes of his face. He had full lips, a straight nose and black hair that splayed out against the dusty asphalt he was lying on in the driveway.

  “Have him taken into the basement,” Brynn repeated, “If he dies from his wounds it is no matter to me. He would have gladly cut me in two with his long sword. But have the Surgeon tend to his injuries. If the Gods favor him, he will survive.”

  “As you wish, Daughter of the Electi,” Tarren said, though Brynn could tell that his heart wasn’t in it. It was all right with Brynn that he kept his tongue.

  She already got enough lectures from Calyx as it was.

  With Calyx’s help, and with all the Rogues that hadn’t met Death on the battlefield retreating for all they were worth, Brynn set about capturing as many Quaji in her glass vials as she was able. It was quite a task, and there was no one else to do it. A contingent of her guard remained on guard and hovered over him as she moved past fallen body after body regretful of the waste of youth and energy.

  “They will come back,” she reminded herself, “to different lives and a different master because they will serve me.”

  It made her more determined than ever to find the Mage Resurrectionem, the only Mage in existence with the power of restoring the Quaji to living beings again.

  Weary but finished at last, she wiped her hands on her blood-soaked shirt. She squared her shoulders and, after giving final instructions for the disposal of the corpses, she turned back toward her home. She was looking forward to the victory feast, after which Calyx, her voice high, true and sweet would play her Crwth and sing.

  ***

  “Hurry,” Bayn told Tarren after they had showered and donned clean clothing, “She won’t want to be kept waiting, and I can smell the food from here.”

  Tarren was completely nude, sprawled sitting up at the headboard of his bed in the quarters he shared with his twin and playing with his iPhone. He had found a game on there he loved to play, which baffled the other vampires around him. They didn’t take part in a lot of the human games like he did, but this was one of the few ways he was able to find relief for his stress.

  “Relax,” he told his brother, “try to develop some hobbies other than warfare, why don’t you? For instance, I find playing games on my phone the perfect denouement to a battle. I am addicted to playing Vandal Assassin!”

  Bayn snorted in mock amusement and began to dress, slipping on an elegant black suit he only wore after a victorious battle.

  “So you relax and restore your war torn soul by playing make-believe war games? Don’t you think that’s a tad ironic?”

  “Not at all,” Tarren said, still punching buttons on the touch screen, “What else would I be doing? Arranging flowers?”

  “Well not that, but maybe hooking up with someone? When was the last time you got laid, brother?”

  Tarren smiled without looking at Bayn, still intent on killing imaginary vandals.

  “Just a few days ago, as a matter of fact,” he said smugly. “That new maid. The redheaded one. She started making my bed before she realized that I was still in it. She saw my magnificent rod having its morning stretch, and she climbed on. She didn’t even ask my permission first. I was appalled, of course.”

  The fact that Bayn was about to lecture him wasn’t lost on him.

  “More like you drug her into your bed and convinced her to lie with you,” Bayn joked. “You’re making my point for me,” Bayn retorted, “You are too lazy to even meet someone outside of Brynn’s house. “

  “You, my friend, are just jealous because you aren’t getting the same caliber of maid service,” Tarren shot back. “Let me turn it around and ask you when the last time you got laid. Hmmmmm? When was the last tim
e you oiled your long sword? Hasn’t it been awhile? Shouldn’t you be branching out? As far as I know you haven’t ever slept with anyone but fairies and everyone knows they are not particular.”

  “I am saving myself, thanks,” Bayn said testily. “For her. There is no one else for me, and you used to feel the same way, I recall. Are you out of the running now? If so, I am thrilled. I will marry her and pump her glorious belly full of my seed, and you will get to watch little mini me’s running around with my face.”

  “Never.” Tarren answered, taking a gamble and losing his last life so that the ‘game over’ announcement flashed across the screen. He threw his phone to the end of the bed in disgust, sulking. “I am still in love with Brynn, just as much as you are. I would die for her just as you would. “

  “But I don’t think you would make a good husband because you haven’t had as much practice. Brynn needs a male who knows what he’s doing, and that takes a fair amount of practice. The kind you so sorely lack. Hard fucking practice, brother.”

  Bayn’s eyes grew dreamy as he stared off into the distance, ignoring the jibe.

  “She isn’t like any other female. She is not only beautiful but heroic. To watch her cut down Liquidators like a killing machine turns me on. When she feeds from me, I melt. She is exquisite. Her shape, her luminous eyes, the curve of her hips. I can’t even imagine what the rest of her looks like. ”

  “I’m sure she’s perfect all over. If I ever had a chance to go down on her, I don't know if I would ever want to come up again,” Tarren mused, his eyes focusing at a distance as he allowed himself to imagine it.

  She would be perfect, pale and silky smooth. He just knew it. And he could see himself placed just between her thighs perfectly as if he was made to be there. Then his body reacted, growing long and hard and he quickly threw the comforter over his hips in one awkward jerk of movement.