Page 91 of A Debt of Darkness

Whatever daggers I’m using tear through flesh and cause more damage than their sharp edges ought to be capable of, and they’re having quite the effect.

Cries ring out and I’m grunting with every breath, every strike. A faint hiss sounds and I cough on the dust I’ve inhaled.

Fuck, that’s another vampire.

Fuck, that’s gross.

We’re evening the numbers but I’m tiring and Ryan’s working harder, using all his skill and experience against the three vampires left. He’s doing enough, but he’s in trouble when Rowan’s second catches him in the side. Worse, he’s in fucking danger as the second seizes his advantage and presses his attack, delivering blow after blow.

Ryan’s defending and one of the other vampires charges at me, tackling me to the ground. He opens his mouth and snarls, roaring above me as he savors the moment before his kill. It’s a mistake and I wipe my arm around, slashing across his face with one of my blades. He screams and pulls his head back, screaming in agony and I throw my weight behind me as I thrust a dagger upwards, piercing it into his skull through his mouth.

There’s a beat of stillness.

A single moment of complete calm.

Ash explodes around me and I cough, spluttering as I try to breathe while getting back onto my feet. I’m staggering around, and when the dust settles, I’m the only one standing. Ryan’s lying on the ground, hunched on his side and his arms lie weightless at his side.

My chest tightens and I gasp, broken and devastated. He’s completely lifeless and the pain is an agony I don’t want to know. I don’t want to feel. He’s saved me but paid a terrible price and I creep forward, trembling as fear takes hold.

He can’t be dead.

He’d be like the other vampires. He’d be dust.

My feet act faster than my head and I race towards him, kneeling beside him as I shake him awake. His throat’s been cut through and it’s barely held together, oozing thick black blood.

Ryan blinks at me and I know what he’s trying to tell me. He’s telling me it’s okay. He’s made his peace with this and all he wants is for me to tell Matt he thought of him at the end. He can’t talk, but his last thoughts are of his partner and he’s determined to make sure Matt knows.

“You can’t…”

I’m crying like a fucking girl and shaking him, trying to do something. Anything. Any-fucking-thing to stop him from dying.

Technically, he’s already dead, but that’s not the point. This isn’t fair. It’s not reasonable. This wasn’t supposed to be his fate and if I’d been stronger, faster, better then this wouldn’t have happened.

If I’d stayed in my room, this wouldn’t have happened.

There’s got to be a way to fix this and my fingers shake as I try knitting his flesh together, pulling at the bleeding mess as I make it meet in the middle. I hold it there, hoping it’ll be enough and my hands turn white as the layers join. It’s not healing quickly and it doesn’t look strong, but it’s better than it was before.

It's a start.

But he needs more.

More than I’ve given him.

I grab a dagger and our eyes meet. His are wide and filled with panic. Mine aren’t. They’re sure, certain, calm. I dig the point into my wrist and the sharp heat of pain shoots up my arm as I twist it over, letting blood drip into Ryan’s mouth.

His irises darken and I close my eyes, praying I’m not too late.

I open them and more blood drips into his mouth. His lips are redder and I don’t know if it’s my blood or him coming back to life. I’ve got no fucking clue what I’m doing, but this is all I can do, and we’ve got to hope it’s enough.

My gaze drops to his neck and it’s still healing. I want to believe it’s faster, but I don’t know. I can’t remember what it looked like moments ago and I stare, watching it heal and praying this works.

Ryan groans and my eyes snap to his. They’re red again and wild, overcome by the taste of my blood coursing through him. I smile and nod and his hand whips around, grabbing my wrist and pulling it to his mouth. Pain ignites in my wrist and I throw my head back and scream. Ryan holds me and as blood drains from me.

“Stop,” I plead.

He growls and I thrash. It’s useless. He’s too strong and consumed by bloodlust. We’re both fighting for survival, but only one of us is going to make it—and it won’t be me.

My head turns light and my fight weakens. The pain increases, but its sting doesn’t rouse me and my vision fades, narrowing as darkness closes in on me, carrying me away.

---