Chapter. 30

The six men line the women up to face the crowd, keeping their arms pinned behind their backs. Lord Soran struts between them, his gold-threaded cape sparkling from a fire nearby.

He pauses by Jaclyn, and she refuses to look up at him. Her eyes remain unfocused, gazing into the distance like she’s miles away.

He twists her ragged shirt in his fist. The vampire behind her removes his hold, stepping back.

“As is most obvious, these weak creatures would not last long in a fight!” Soran shoves her back. She stumbles and hits the ground, drawing more chuckles from the crowd. These disgusting vampires and their lust for blood are the only reason she’s weak.

The vampire behind her grabs her arms again and forces her upright. She keeps her eyes forward, avoiding the crowd and Soran.

“The way of the human is to run, not fight, so we shall let them run.” He draws a dagger from his belt. “They will run for their lives.”

He cups Jaclyn’s chin, forcing her head up. “We aren’t unreasonable,” he says loud enough for the crowd to hear. “The humans will have a ten-minute head start.”

Jaclyn doesn’t react, her eyes glazed over. He releases her and circles back to the first woman.

I turn back to Rahlan with a pleading look. He’s a lord too. Can’t he end this?

His gaze stays focused on the show, ignoring me. He doesn’t care.

Soran signals for the hunters to join him. Seven vampires present themselves to the crowd, each with a dog by their side.

“Which one of these men will be the first to return with a head in hand!?” Soran says. My stomach feels queasy. How can they talk about murder like it’s a game?

Soran grabs the hand of a brown-haired vampire and raises it to the air. “Will it be Anker, the irritable!?” He grabs another one’s hand, “Or Osald, the smelly!?”

The crowd laughs.

“Hans, the…” Soran’s eyes run up and down the young man’s frame as he tries to think of a title, “the lean.” He continues through the hunters. “Jorn, the wrathful, Ove, the loony, Flote, the dirty, or Silas, the hungry? Place your wages!”

A noise erupts from the crowd, and the jingle of coins changing hands fills the air. These women are going to lose their lives for nothing but a night of gambling.

Soran signals the hunters with a flick of his hand. They pull the huge dogs towards the women, and their muscles tense as the dogs sniff their clothes. “This is the humans’ chance to earn their freedom,” Soran says, “Though I suspect none will be so fortunate.”

He nods, and the vampires shove the women into the dirt.

“Nine minutes and fifty seconds!” Soran shouts.

The women scramble to their feet and stumble away on wobbly legs, the blood loss evident in their sluggish movements. The men cheer and the dogs bark. A hill stands in the way, making it even harder on their weakened bodies.

Jaclyn trips, and the crowd laughs. “No hurry sweetheart!” a vampire shouts. “Don’t run too fast now! We’ll be seeing that one soon.”

How can they take pleasure in this? I shoot Rahlan a look of disgust, but he’s not bothered. They’re monsters, all of them.

Jaclyn and the others slip out of site over the ridge. They’re so tired that their moving no faster than a brisk walk. The men rise to their feet, beaming with energy.

This is sick. They’re people, human beings, forced to play the role of animals. They’re going to die, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the vampires turned it into a cruel game. Jaclyn is going to be slaughtered. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.

I run.

The crowd roars behind me. Neither Soran nor the hunters try stop me as I shoot past.

“We have a volunteer!” Soran says.

“Stop!” Rahlan shouts. I glance back at him before continuing up the hill. He’s being held back by two hunters.

“She still has five minutes,” Soran says.

Soon I’m over the short hill and the camp is out of sight. Thick pine trees block out the moonlight, darkening the forest. The women are nowhere to be seen, but I don’t stop running.

“Jaclyn!” I shout. One vampire has drunk from me today, not eight. I should quickly catch up to her.

“Jaclyn! Jaclyn, where are you!?” I weave between the trees at full speed.

“Julia,” I hear a soft voice behind me. My boots skid across the pine-needle covered ground, bringing me to a halt. Jaclyn’s resting against a tree, barely able to keep herself upright.

I quickly prop her up on my shoulder.

“Why are you-” she stops. “What’s the plan?”

They have dogs, and she can barely stand. We can’t run. “We fight.”

She smiles, letting out an exhausted breath. I guide her to a pair of trees with thick branchy trunks.

“We can’t win,” she says, “You should leave me. Escape.”

“We don’t have to win.” I help her sit down, propping her up against the trunk so she’s facing towards the camp. “We just have to stall.”

I grab a heavy branch from a nearby fallen tree and climb up the trunk opposite hers. It takes all my strength to pull myself up while carrying the makeshift club.

Once I’m hidden in the tree’s prickly needles, I take a deep breath and shout at the top of my lungs, “Rahlan!”

“Are you nuts!?” Jaclyn whisper-shouts.

I climb a little higher, submerging myself deep within the prickly needles. The tree trunk hides me from any approaching vampires, but it also blocks my view.

“See anyone?” I ask.

She shakes her head, looking defeated.

“When you escape these monsters, meet me at Fekby village, in Faria,” I whisper. It’s risky to share where I plan to go after I escape, but I trust her to hold her tongue, and I need her to believe that we’ll get through this.

She keeps her gaze forward.

The forest is silent, bar the occasional cricket’s chirp. I breathe through my mouth to be as quiet as possible.

“There’s one,” she whispers, “He sees me.”

A dog barks, and I flinch. I resist the urge to look around the trunk. Any movement could give my position away.

Jaclyn begins shuffling around the tree, trying to put a barrier between herself and the hunter.

“Don’t move,” I whisper, “Draw him in.”

“He has a bow.”

“If he thinks you’ve given up, he’ll draw it out.”

Her lips make a thin line, unimpressed with my plan.

“Alf,” the hunter commands, and the dog goes silent.

Jaclyn keeps her eyes forward. Looking up would alert the hunter to my presence.

My heart is racing again.

The hunter’s footsteps crack the dried pine needles below me. I hold my breath.

“Pathetic,” the hunter says in a scratchy voice. It’s Anker, the irritable one. The dog barks again, it’s teeth just an inch from Jaclyn’s face.

My fingers tighten around the branch.

“Alf,” he commands the dog again. Jaclyn remains frozen. Anker is too far away, just out of my range. Hold on a little longer.

He grabs her arm and yanks her forward. I stand in the tree. The dog notices my movement and starts barking. Crud.

Jaclyn is forced to the ground, and Anker’s foot lands on her back. Ignoring his dog, he reaches down and twists her arms together, lowering his head. This is my chance.

I spring from the tree and slam the broken branch over his skull.

The dog goes wild, and Anker collapses on top of Jaclyn. She groans from the extra weight.

I raise the branch for a second strike, but the giant dog bites my calf, making me lose my balance.

I hit the ground. The ferocious dog lunges on top of me and goes for my neck. I block its sharp teeth with my arms. The leather armor protects my skin, transforming the vicious bite into nothing more than a strong grip.

I punch it in the face and shove it off my chest, but its sharp teeth remain embedded in my sleeve. It drags me over the dirt, away from the others.

Anker groans and Jaclyn shouts in pain. They’re tumbling over each other. He’s pulling on her hair, and she’s hitting him with a stick. He’s concussed and she’s exhausted.

I push myself to stand up, but the growling dog pulls me back down. It weighs a ton. I slam my fist against its head, but it keeps dragging me backwards through the dirt.

Jaclyn wails. Anker is standing over her, kicking her in the stomach while holding his head. She lays curled up, defeated.

Anker’s gaze lands on me, and he draws a short dagger from his belt. I try slide away from him, but the dog pins me in place with its unrelenting bite.

Blood runs down Anker’s face, and his eyes seethe with hate. No. No. No. I kick and squirm, but the loose pine needles roll under my feet, and the dog’s grip stays embedded in my arm.

Anker stumbles towards me, raising his blade up into the air.

My whole body tenses.

Anker freezes. A curved blade rests on his shoulder beside his neck, glowing in the moonlight.

“Call off your mutt,” a deep voice orders. Rahlan.

Anker discreetly flips the dagger in his hand. Rahlan pulls his blade back, pressing the curved edge against Anker’s throat, forming a trickle of blood.

“Ont,” Anker commands, and the dog releases my sleeve.

I jump to my feet and stumble around the vampires to Jaclyn. Her nose is bleeding and she’s holding her stomach.

“Move along,” Rahlan growls.

Anker turns away, grumbling. Rahlan keeps his sword extended until both Anker and his dog are out of sight.

“Can you stand?” I whisper to Jaclyn.

She nods, and I help her up on shaky legs.

A sharp pressure around my neck yanks me off my feet. I’m choking. Rahlan’s dragging me backwards by my tunic’s collar. I can’t breathe!

My fingers dig under the leather to try take the pressure off my throat. I can’t stop coughing and gagging. My legs flail about in the dirt, desperately trying to regain my footing.

Jaclyn limps a few feet behind us with her arm around her stomach.

My boots finally find a grip on some harder clay. I try stand, but he pulls me back faster than I can walk. I stumble and fall again, still struggling to take a breath.

He finally releases his grip, and I fall flat on my back. I take deep breaths, not moving.

He positions his feet on either side of my head, and I scramble to sit up.

We’re back in the camp, and he’s glaring at me.

I glance up at the sword on his belt, then at his boots, then back at him.

My breathing is heavy. His hands curl up into fists, and my body stiffens.

He wouldn’t beat me again. Would he?