Page 54 of Taste of Forever
Kalix was shirtless, and his black hair still reached his shoulders. He still had the muscle of twenty years ago, but was covered in far more scars. His vow to Blood ‘til Dawn was gone. The ritual scarification everyone in our clan did to ourselves as a permanent gesture of loyalty was now a puffy mass of scar tissue. It looked like they had literally cut out his vow with silver weapons—the only thing capable of scarring vampires.
“Fucking Temkra, what have they done to him?” Cyan sounded like he was going to cry. “Look at his eyes.”
Instead of the warm, dark maroon color they had once been, Kal’s irises were a dull yellow.
The collar around his neck came off, and then the mask followed. Kal stretched his jaw and ran his tongue over his teeth.
His flat, fangless teeth.
I swallowed a sound of disgust and disbelief. Filing down a vampire’s fangs was not only cruel and painful, it was humiliating. To take away a defining characteristic of our species was reducing him to less than a vampire. Less than a human. The practice had been banned centuries ago, when new clans were forming and fighting between each other was common. And they had done it to him.
The chains dropped at Kal’s feet and he…did nothing. The Kal I knew would have acted the moment he had a free hand. Or even started headbutting his captors if his hands were tied. But he just stood there like a statue while one of the escorts stuck a syringe into the side of his leg.
Like with the Marrower in the earlier fight, the injection seemed to shoot life into him. He blinked several times, his eyes sharpening with focus despite the yellow draitrium haze. His fists clenched at his side as his opponent, another Marrower nearly matching him in size, was brought into the opposite side of the cage. This fighter too was unlocked from chains and injected with something.
The fight began with no signal, no preamble. The escorts had barely exited the cage and slammed the doors when the two huge vampires lunged at each other.
Unlike Kalix, the Marrower had two sets of long, prominent fangs, but he couldn’t even get close. Kal’s long limbs punched and kicked, succeeding at keeping the other vampire out of close range. Cy had mentioned something about Marrowers being into wrestling, so maybe this other guy had a good grappling game and Kal knew that.
Fuck. Did Kal even know whohewas anymore?
An old memory popped into my head. Des and I had come of age in the same year, and carved our vows to Blood ‘til Dawn over our hearts at the same time. I remembered how much the silver blade burned, how hard I’d clenched my teeth in order to not make a single sound of pain.
The whole clan watched us carve our vows. Cyan was still a juvenile, sitting next to Kal who was pointing at me as he whispered in Cyan’s ear. I imagined Kal was telling him how brave we were, how we were willing and proud to take silver to our skin for our family. How it was an honor to make this vow and it would be Cyan doing this same ritual when he came of age. Young Cyan had grinned and looked up at Kal, all kinds of admiration in his gaze.
Now Cy looked utterly haunted, his eyes locked on the vampire who’d been a best friend, a brother, and a father figure all rolled into one, now fighting to the death.
Kal was clearly at an advantage in the fight, his long reach working to create distance and tire out his opponent. By the way the crowd hollered every time he landed a punch or a kick, he was heavily favored by them.
After a few minutes, something became clear. Kal wasn’t fighting to kill. His blows landed solidly, but without lethal force. Most of his moves were defensive, blocking or dodging the Marrower’s attempts to bring him to the ground. He landed strikes of his own only when the Marrower got too close or left a vulnerable spot open.
Cyan and I looked around, sensing the crowd’s restlessness as the fight went on. It wasn’t the bloodbath they wanted.
“Come on, fuck him up!” yelled the guy who’d tried to sell me drae.
Sweat poured off of the Marrower’s gray skin, his breaths heavy and labored as he and Kal continued to circle each other. Kal barely looked gassed at all. He almost looked bored.
I wasn’t sure when it exactly happened, but the fighters hit a turning point.
The Marrower got past Kalix’s block, grabbed him around the waist, and slammed him to the ground.
Cyan and I both winced at the sound, but the audience let out a roar of outrage. They yelled at Kal, or rather number 5406, to get up and spill some blood. But Kalix remained down, not even bothering to block the onslaught of fists that rained down on him. The Marrower straddled him and, with renewed strength, held Kalix down by the throat as the other hand beat into his face.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Cyan and I were close enough to feel droplets on our faces and clothes.
Eventually Kal bucked off his opponent, but it was with a fraction of the vigor he’d had early on in the fight. He rolled to stand up, made it to his knees, and then was slammed to the ground again. The Marrower had an arm around his throat this time, and got into the perfect position for a chokehold.
Under the blood gushing from his face, Kal’s skin turned dark purple. He barely struggled, only holding on to the Marrower’s forearm with a weak grip. I stared in disbelief, knowing with my whole being that he could’ve broken out of that hold if he really wanted to. Was he trying to die?
Cyan made a sudden move forward and I grabbed his arm, hauling him back.
“Get off me, Laith,” he snarled.
“No way.” I wrapped both arms around his chest, using all my strength to hold him in a bear hug. “You heard what Thorne said. We can’t expose ourselves here.”
“Fuck what Thorne said,” he choked out.
“I know.” I held on tighter, locking my hands together. “I know, Cy. I know.”
