I eyed it warily. Its power had faded, the silver current barely visible now, but it was only reined in. And its wounds were closing. The only serious one was on its stomach, where some potion had splattered and was eating through the flesh. But the vampire’s healing abilities were faster than the poison’s destructive ones. Soon it would be whole again. And if it fed from the few humans whose pulses still beat faintly, here and there, it would be back to full strength.
If I was going to attack, it should be now.
“Dory?” The vampire spoke, low and soft. The name wasn’t mine, but it was looking at me. The eyes were limned in silver, too, like the veins. They stared at me, deep and empty and awful.
I growled and renewed my grip on the small thing, which was thrashing about. I would kill the vampire if forced, but I was injured, too, and would also need to protect the small one. This was a fight I would avoid if I could.
“Dory—” It held out a hand.
I backed up, jerking the small thing with me. “Mine,” I said, low and guttural, and the vampire started as if surprised.
It probably was. They always assumed that I did not speak. That I could not. So many had plotted my death, discussed it, laughed about it, even while I was in the same room, because they assumed I was mindless. Like one of the failures of their kind, born mad.
But I was not a failure. I was what I was supposed to be. I was dhampir.
And they never lived to tell anyone they were wrong.
“Mine!” I said, challenge in the tone this time. If it wanted a fight, so be it.
But the vampire took several steps back, hands raised. “Oui—yes. Yours,” it agreed. The words meant nothing, because vampires lied, but it also changed color. The pink faded to blue, to gray, to black as it went dim and almost seemed to collapse into itself. Dark and small suddenly, instead of bright with power. I watched it narrowly.
Unlike the young ones, those as old and strong as this could summon power in an instant, with little or no buildup required. It was backing down. It was refusing challenge.
But vampires lied.
My muscles tensed, adrenaline drowning my system, power and speed and—ripping, tearing, burning, yessss. The bloodlust flooded me as I prepared for fight not flight, always the preference, always the joy. And then I lunged—
—at the door, slamming it shut a second before something crashed into the other side.
The vampire jumped.
“You did not feel them change?” I challenged, pushing against the clawed hand that was caught in the gap between the door and the wall. It was longer than a man’s, with huge, exaggerated knuckles under a covering of black hair, and thick yellowed talons that scored the heavy metal.
“I was…distracted.”
“That kind of distraction can get you killed, vampire.”
“So I see.” It brought the butt end of a weapon down on the creature’s fingers, hard enough to sever several of them, and the rest withdrew with a howl. “Shifters.”
“Yes. I smelled their musk when I awoke. Did you not?”
“No.” The voice was clipped. “They scented as human to me.”
“Pity.”
That must have stung, because power flashed through its veins for a split second before being reined in again. “There are thirteen, two of them injured,” it said, showing off. “The odds are acceptable.”
“Not with the small thing.”
“The small—you mean the child?”
I looked down. The little one had grabbed onto my leg with a grip I would have defied even the vampire to break. That was good. It left my hands free.
“Child.” I used language so seldom, sometimes the words wouldn’t come. But this one…“Yes.”
“I will protect her.”
I didn’t answer. I was looking at the claw marks on the door. They had the same foul stench as the creatures—wrong, unnatural—and they were bubbling the green paint as they dripped down the surface. A moment later, the lock on the door began to sizzle, smoking as if a blowtorch was on the other side.