Page 68 of Vampire Savage

Oberon advances, looking at me with pity, and I hate him for it. I look for anything I can use to ward him off but all the weaponry is on the other side of the gallery.

“Once I met him at dinner and realized who he was, I did my research,” he says, following me as I walk backwards through the gallery. “You say I’m a monster? I’ve killed, yes, but only who I needed to so I could live.”

He snaps a hand out to grab me but I’m able to twist out of the way and put another display between us, this one showcasing a necklace from the Bronze Age. He shakes his head and I turn, running towards the ancient weapons. They’re nothing compared to today’s weaponry, but I’ll take anything I can get. Then I remember Eris’s claim and run as fast as my weak legs and concussion will let me towards the celestial blade.

Does Oberon know what it really is?

“Do you know how many people that vampire has slaughtered?” he asks, taking his time to advance on me. His confidence rattles me but I whirl around to the back of the display where the blade is held, fumbling for the alarm hatch. “And I do mean slaughtered, Wren. He’ll kill you eventually. It’s who he is.”

The blade doesn’t look like much, and if it weren’t for Eris’s reaction to it, I’d think it nothing more than a brittle-looking, pitted and chipped, iron long dagger with a worn hilt with eroded designs. The cover finally opens and I press my thumb to the scanner, watching Oberon through the dark. He frowns and I don’t hesitate to shove the display case up and off. Picking up the blade, I half expect to be covered in flames like Eris experienced but nothing happens.

I hold it with both hands, pointing it towards Oberon. “Don’t come near me,” I warn him.

“I know you, Wren,” he says, not pausing in his slow stride. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the wound in his side, and I remember him telling Lan how drinking blood from the chalice had healed him before. With how fast he sprinted us out of the dining room, then used the steel elevator cable as a rope to slide down with one arm while holding me over his shoulder with the other, clearly the ritual has done more than just grant him a longer life. “You won’t hurt me.”

The blade isn’t too heavy, but it shakes as I fight to hold it up. I shake my head. “Don’t bet on it.”

Oberon stops in front of me, the tip of the blade a whisper away from his gut. I swallow, meeting his eyes and tighten my grip. He raises his hands slowly, palms facing me, as if trying to show no threat. I recognize the look in his eyes. It’s the same one he has while he dominates a boardroom of investors before walking out with exactly what he wanted.

“What if you don’t have to die?” he asks, his voice gentled. I start to shake my head again but he talks through my protest. “You’re my daughter. You’re smart, so think about it. A willing sacrifice could grant me the years I want, even without death. If you willingly come into the circle and perform the rite, I’ll take the blood from your hand. You can even cut yourself and fill the chalice. Then you could live.”

“Yeah, I am smart. Even if I do that, and I stay alive, you wouldn’t let me go.”

“True.” He inclines his head, conceding my point. “But it’ll buy you more time. Opportunities to escape me, unlike tonight where you will die otherwise.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Everything he says is true, but it’s too good. Too simple. If I agree and give in to him, there would never be any future opportunities to escape. He’d lock me up like the obsidian chalice. I may not need an opportunity to escape though. Lan would find me eventually.

Oberon looks down at my stomach. “Think of your child, Wren. You aren’t like Saoirse. You want that baby. This way, you can protect them.”

“Landon will never stop looking for me,” I grit out, keeping the blade level. I hate how he has a point. It’s more than just me since that faint blue line appeared on the pregnancy test.

“I can deal with a single vampire,” he says coolly. “He wouldn’t be the first.”

I stare at him, the gallery dim and silent around us as seconds stretch into minutes. My arms are burning and the blade is getting heavier with every breath. I work through Oberon’s offer, knowing him well enough to know it’s not what it seems. My head hurts too much, and my knees are still weak, so I can’t see the trap that is hidden by supposed sensibility.

My strength wavers as nausea rolls my stomach and the blade dips. That moment of weakness is all he needs and he launches himself at me. With a fist, he punches my wrists down, the blade clattering to the marble floor as pain shoots up my arms and I cry out. He’s too fast, almost as fast as Lan, and I don’t have a chance to take a step back before he’s caught my throat with one hand and starts to squeeze. I try to gasp in a breath, but he’s choking me. He looks at me with disappointment, the same look I’ve seen too often in my life. I scratch at his arm, but my efforts weaken as my vision goes spotty.

“You’ve always taken too long to decide,” Oberon says as he lets go of me. I crash to the floor, my hand going to my throat as I gulp in air into my screaming lungs. He grabs the back of my shirt and then I’m sliding across the polished floor towards the center. Without a grunt, he tosses me into the center and it’s all I can do it catch myself on my hands. “Maybe if you were more like me, I’d have sought someone else out. But you are too much like your mother. Always needing to be praised, to have my approval. My love.”

I try to get up, but it’s too difficult and my head and vision is spinning like I’d gotten up too fast after sitting. I hear him flick open the case. I’d recognize that sound anywhere. I’d heard it too many times in my life, each time growing more resentful and jealous of a fucking ancient cup.

A different sound comes a moment before a familiar voice cuts the silence. “Put down the chalice and step away from the circle, Benoit.”

I try to find the owner of the voice, and when I do, I can’t get my eyes to focus. I recognize Ashe, though, even if I’m seeing double. He’s striding from the back of the gallery, his gun trained on Oberon, the soft lighting behind him casting his face in too much shadow for me. Hope flares within me, clearing some of the haze in my head. If Ashe is here, Lan can’t be far behind.

“I don’t have time for this,” Oberon says, annoyed. He sets the chalice down, but then his hand is moving, arm swinging out towards the vampire. A shot echoes through the space. Ashe doesn’t have time to react to the man’s unexpected super speed, and I watch in horror as Ashe’s gun falls and the vampire falls backwards, slamming to the floor.

Oh, god, he isn’t moving.

“No,” I croak out and try to push up and get to the still vampire who was always kind to me. I think about Eris. I make it to my knees before gagging from the nausea roiling my stomach.

A hand grips my hair, yanking my head back. Oberon watches me with irritation as he sets the chalice in front of me. Then he has the same knife he’d held to my throat earlier. Fear makes my heart pound in my ears.

“It’s not the new moon, but I’ll still get a decade or two out of you.”

I close my eyes as I feel the man who raised me step behind me, his grip on my hair absolute. I press my hands weakly to my stomach, wishing I had the strength to fight back. I feel for the place inside me that a piece of Lan lives and tears slip down my cheeks. I love him, my brutal, savage vampire who was so betrayed by the world he cut himself off from it entirely. I send everything I can towards him. My love, my regret that we won’t have time, that I hope that he won’t destroy himself after this.

He feels so, so close, and I cling to that as Oberon starts chanting above me. The air vibrates around us, resonating with a sickly dread. Fear grips my heart in its claws and I sob, unable to hold back the terror as I’m about to die. The chanting stops and everything is strained, waiting for something to release.

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