Page 87 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

The simulacrum slung curses and obscenities at her, both in English and the harshness of the demon tongue with every slice she made. But Ava’s rage was an unstoppable force.

Her blade came down on the demon’s throat again and again and again. The only sounds it made were wet gurgling noises as ichor spurted out from the arteries between mangled gray flesh.

Ava hacked at it until its neck fell to the side, and she sliced through the vertebrae, severing the demon’s head clean off. It tumbled to the floor with a heavy, wet smack.

Her chest rose and fell heavily while she stared at the butchered mess she’d made of the demon. The ichor had painted her hands black, same with the knife she still held clamped in her shaking fist. With one last stab, she planted the blade deep in the demon’s chest and left it there, the ichor-slicked handle glinting in the light.

After wiping her hands clean, Ava moved silently around to the well at the base of the slab where the ichor had pooled. She picked up a small glass Vain had set there and dipped it through the thick substance, filling it nearly to the brim.

“That’s too much,” Vain said.

“Relax,” she told him. “I only need to drink about half of it.”

Ava tipped her head back and, true to her word, only swallowed half of the ichor in the glass before slamming it back down. A strangled gasp escaped her throat, and then she was coughing, clutching at her neck as if she might claw herself open. My natural instinct was to rush to her side, but Vain remained firmly in place as he watched her struggle.

When the last of her retching subsided, Ava wiped at her mouth with the back of her arm and shut her eyes. She inhaled sharply, her hands curling into fists and then flexing at her sides before her eyes popped open, and she stared Vain down with a tenacity that rivaled any I’d seen from her before.

“Do your worst then, witch,” Vain taunted.

A hint of a smirk formed on her lips, then she started murmuring the same incantation I recognized from all the times before whenever she attempted an exorcism.

The only difference was that this time…I could feel it.

I could feel the words attempting to latch on to Vain and rip him from my body. They lashed out like whips curling around the corners of Vain’s essence but couldn’t quite hold. Regardless, it was enough to make me nervous.

I thought you said this had no chance of working.

Vain grimaced through it, snarling whenever the incantation snared him like barbed wire being dragged over our bond.

“Stop fighting, Vain,” Ava called, her chest heaving.

Vain couldn’t help but grin back at her. “It’s alright to admit when you’re wrong, mellilla.”

“I don’t give up that easily,” she said quietly and then reached for the glass vial again, still half-full of ichor.

“Ava…” Vain’s voice dropped low in warning.

She shot him a hardened look. Defiant until the very end. “It’s not that much.”

“I have seen mortals become vampyrs over less.”

“I’m strong enough.”

Vain surged forward before she could wrap her hand around the vial, unsheathing the knife strapped beneath our shirt and deftly maneuvered behind her. He pulled her back against him, one arm pinned over her chest as he held her by her throat and pressed the tip of the blade against her neck in one fluid motion.

“This all feels very familiar, doesn’t it, mellilla?”

Don’t you dare fucking hurt her, I warned him.

I won’t. I just need to scare her a little.

I think you’ve proved your point, I said. Enough.

Ava’s pulse pounded underneath Vain’s hand at the base of her throat. He angled the blade with the right amount of pressure to not break the skin, but just enough to keep her docile.

“I would strongly caution you to reconsider,” he whispered against the shell of her ear with that sinful voice of his that might have caused her to melt if we were in any other situation.

“Back off, Vain,” Ava growled.

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