Charomera

The 20th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

Efterpi was a fucking vampire. How had he not seen it coming? How had he never once thought to Examine her? Whatever magic she’d cast on him must have shifted his attention, allowing her to slide below the level of conscious notice, like being Stealthed. The thought was infuriating, but the sight of Tess’s throat held at the mercy of those clawed fingers made him feral.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” he growled. “I’ll fucking tear you apart.”

“I have done what is necessary to make her compliant. Rest assured, I have no interest in her. My interest is in you.”

The words sent a shiver up his spine. There was something predatory and possessive in the way she said it, like he was a prized dessert she couldn’t wait to dig into.

“You’re a vampire. Surely there’s plenty of blood to be found.

“True, and I’ve had to sate myself on such. The Haemoak was a pleasant surprise, I’ll admit. I didn’t expect to run across one and its blood sated me for nearly a month – but I grew hungry again. I’m almost always hungry, you know. If that foolish thug hadn’t grabbed me during that escape our first night here, I might have resorted to more drastic measures.”

“You were never captured, were you?”

Aima laughed.

“What, by basic thieves? I think not. No, I tore his throat out and drained him, then followed his memories to one of his hideouts and tore it apart for blood. It worked for a while, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. I need something more. Something with…spice.”

“My blood.”

“Yes, godling. Your blood. There is nothing else like it. That taste in the alley was glorious, better even than the first lick. I was tempted to keep you, then, but it wasn’t the right time, not when we could have been interrupted. Now, we have all the time we could want. I will take your blood, godling. I need it and you will give it to me.”

Her mouth opened wide, showing off her fangs as desperation coated her words. A shallow cut opened on Tess’s throat, but the Rogue didn’t move, didn’t react at all. She just stood there. Vacant.

“What did you do to her?”

“Your friend is having a dream, that is all. I will leave her alive, if you behave.”

Oh, how he was going to kill her.

“What would you have me do?”

“Renounce any Oaths or ties that you have made to others and swear to serve me as my thrall.”

“Not happening, try again.”

“You’ll do it.” Aima’s hand tightened around Tess’s throat. “Or she dies.”

“If you kill her, you lose your leverage. She dies, you die.”

“I bested you when we fought last.” Aima smirked. “You had numbers on your side, then. What makes you think you can defeat me now?”

Arche’s voice turned ragged. His fingers twitched, aching with the need to pull her flesh from her bones.

“I just killed a witch that only existed in myths and her pet dragon. I will tear you apart, burn and bury the pieces, and I promise you, it will hurt the entire time.”

Aima tilted her head, seeming to consider it, then shrugged.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. But even if you do, your friend will still be dead. I can rip her throat out before you’ve taken a step. Will your victory be so sweet when I have killed your bedmate?”

Arche ground his teeth. He thought of the coin he’d been given by Thanatos. It had the power to return life to the recently deceased, but he had only one shot at it and he wasn’t willing to gamble Tess’s life. Every atom in his body wanted the vampire dead, but not like this.

“Release her,” he repeated. “And we’ll have a civil conversation about this.”

“Civil? You’re ready to stake me. We can talk from here.”

“As long as you hold her hostage, you can construe any bargain as my attempt to free her. Let her go and we can deal openly.”

Aima sneered. “I don’t deal with food. I hunt it.”

“And how has that worked out for you?” Arche snapped. “Trapped in a stone coffin for longer than memory serves. Once freed, back to the same shit that put you there. Aren’t you tired of doing the same fucking thing over and over and over again? You’re not an apex predator, you’re an addict.”

Aima flexed her hand and more of her fingernails dug into Tess’s throat. Arche put one hand out placatingly.

“You want my blood; I want her alive and unharmed. Servitude is off the table. Let’s deal, all right?”

He set the Tridory down and held his hands up. Aima sneered again, but he could see uncertainty in her face. She whispered something beneath her breath and Tess collapsed. Arche flinched but even from where he was, he could see the rise and fall of her chest.

“She’s asleep,” Aima confirmed. “Stay where you are and we will discuss.”

“All right.” Arche let out a breath. “All right. You want my blood, right? How much?”

“All of it.”

“Too much. That kills people. I can’t make more if I’m dead. How about three pints a week?”

“Pints?”

“Goddamn it,” Arche muttered. “I knew unit conversion would be the death of me, fucking metric system.”

He held up a finger and produced one of his empty wineskins from his inventory. He held it consideringly, figuring it was about a half-gallon.

“How about one of these per week.”

Aima considered his offer for a moment.

“Five.”

“That’s getting back into ‘killing me’ territory.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

Aima’s mouth split into a grin.

“Two, then, and we will shake on it.”

Warning bells rang in Arche’s head, but there was little choice. He clambered off the dais and stopped halfway to her. Aima met him there, crossing the distance with deliberate steps.

Arche tensed, his heart pounding, and held out his hand.

Aima lifted her own hand slowly, as if trying not to startle him. Her eyes flicked to his and he saw his mistake. She blurred, moving more quickly than his eyes could track. Her hand grabbed his throat and her fangs sprang forth in full.

Arche activated Divine Body, limiting the flood of Mana to prolong it as much as he could. Aima hissed at the sudden flare of light and released him. He swung his fist but she twisted out of reach, giving him the opportunity to summon the Tridory. Argos gave a loud, threatening bark and Arche sent a mental command.

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‘Protect the fallen girl.’

Fear. Agreement. Brave boy.

Then the connection severed. He needed all his concentration and Mana to win the fight ahead. The Tridory fell into his palm as he thrust forward, forcing Aima to dodge again. With Divine Body active, he was stronger than her, but she was still faster. All she had to do was wait him out. Without Divine Body, there was no contest. With time stacked against him, he had to take risks.

Arche swung the Tridory sideways, purposefully overcommitting to the strike. Aima took the bait, surging through the opening to engage him in close quarters. Her fangs aimed for his throat but she didn’t expect his elbow. Even with Divine Body enhancing him, he felt the shudder in his bones from the impact. Aima’s mouth closed sharply and her head snapped upward. He dropped the spear, it was useless in such close quarters, and grabbed her arm. He snaked his leg behind hers and wrenched her off balance, but she twisted as she fell, raking her claw-like fingernails into his side, piercing his armor.

Arche grit his teeth against the pain, knowing he would heal quickly. He had forced her into a kneeling position, so he put his foot on the back of her leg and wrenched her arm. Tendons tore as he pulled her shoulder out of socket. She screamed, full of anguish and fury. A familiar sound.

Aima twisted and dug the nails of her other arm into the soft meat of his inner thigh, then raked it down to his knee. Arche cried out as his leg collapsed beneath him. She twisted, shoved him to the ground, lunging for his throat. He got his vambrace up in time to wedge it into her mouth. Fangs punctured the mantikhoras hide and sank into his forearm. He slammed his fist into the side of her head, but it was a bad position and the strikes were without much force. She stayed latched, her eyes wild and flush with victory. With her good arm, she scratched at his chest, leaving long furrows on his breastplate, unable to break through the meat of his armor.

He only had a few precious seconds left of Divine Body, then his Mana would be completely spent. His hand opened and he chanced a moment of distraction. Her nails pierced his side again, her fingers wriggling for his ribs. One scratched against bone, then the Revenant Kopis fell into his waiting hand. He brought the blade up through her middle and she gasped, releasing his forearm. Arche backhanded her across the face, knocking her clear of him and the sword, then staggered to his feet.

Aima clutched at her chest. He had missed her heart, he knew, but it was still a grievous wound. She snarled, animal-like, and tried to rise up, but Arche reached her first. Divine Body had repaired most of the damage to his leg and was working on his side. She tried to slash him with her fingers, but Arche cut through the tendons of her arm, letting it flop impotently to the side. She hissed upward at him, but he put his boot onto her chest wound and held the kopis to her throat. With only fifteen percent of his Mana left, he deactivated Divine Body.

“You’re beaten, Aima.”

She hissed again and tried to move but found she couldn’t. The tip of the kopis, made from the rib of her own creation, pricked her throat. Her eyes were full of hate, a burning well of it.

“Do it, godling.”

Unwillingly, Arche recalled their first encounter. How she had drunk his blood to restore herself. How she had infiltrated Myriatos unnoticed, embedded herself with their group to get close to him. How she had killed and drunk people. How she had hurt Tess. He wanted her to die. She deserved to die.

But as he looked down on her, behind all the fury and the anger, there was fear. He thought of what else he knew about her. Vampirism had been thrust on her. She had an insatiable need that drove her to act. There was clearly something special and addicting about his blood that, no doubt, had to do with his Divine Spark. He’d meant it when he’d called her an addict.

Did she actually deserve to die?

Alex would have cut her throat in a heartbeat. Arche wasn’t so sure.

“I won’t beg,” Aima snarled. “Do it and be done with it.”

“You have a choice in front of you. Swear an Oath to me or die.”

Aima’s face contorted and for several seconds she was quiet.

“What Oath?”

“Stop hunting people and I will give you blood.”

That got a reaction.

“I tried to kill you.” Aima’s brow drew together. “Why would you trust any word I gave you? Why would you help me?”

Arche clenched his teeth.

Because of Asterion and the stars carved into his ceiling.

Because of Medea’s mania and what she’d said about her husband and children.

Because Alex wanted to slaughter her and be done with it.

“Because you need help. Because I’ve had enough of killing for one day. A wineskin of blood per week, as possible, and I’ll help you find other alternatives. Surely that’s a life worth more than death?”

“You would not demand I am beholden to you?”

“I’m responsible for you, absolutely, but I’m not going to enslave you over that fact. If you step out of line, if you betray me or Myriatos, I will kill you. I already proved I can. If you run, I will find you. But the truth is, I don’t want you for an enemy, Aima. You’re not a monster, I’d rather not treat you like one.”

Aima glared at him.

“Friendship. Pacifism. For blood?” She spat the words at him.

“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Hatred and contempt shone in her eyes, but his blade was still at her throat.

“I’ll take it.”

You and Aima have sworn an Oath.

She will no longer hunt sapients for sustenance, nor willingly move against you or Myriatos.

You are to provide one liter of blood per week, as possible.

Should either of you break this Oath, both parties will be notified.

“As a sign of good faith,” Arche muttered.

He ran the kopis over his palm and dribbled blood into her mouth. Her wounds twitched and knitted themselves back together. Arche stepped away and sat down, grunting from the pain of his own injuries. She sat across from him. They stared at one another but said nothing as they waited to heal. Arche used Minor Heal whenever his Mana allowed until his vitals were completely full, then activated Divine Body to heal the internal damage. When the light faded, he fixed his eyes on Aima.

“Can you stop whatever you’re doing to Tess, now?”

“I withdrew my influence twenty minutes ago. Her sleep has become a natural one. The labyrinth was tiring for her.” Her tone was modulated, calculating. Like she didn’t quite believe he wasn’t going to kill her.

“Thanks. You’re not going to attack me again, are you?”

“No,” she growled the word as though she wanted to do nothing else. “You have proven your point and the Oath discourages such things. Besides…” she hesitated. “I am curious to see how this arrangement works.”

Arche tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Now that they weren’t fighting, she was almost like a different person. The mask of the vampire had fallen away and the woman beneath peered out, watching him with unblinking eyes, uncertain and untrusting. A part of him still wanted her dead, the part that said she was a threat, but he’d had enough death that day.

“You’ve been on your own a long time, huh?”

She clearly struggled with the answer, but eventually inclined her head.

“Don’t worry. The whole ‘interacting with others’ thing gets easier.”

Aima didn’t answer, but didn’t take her eyes off him either. Arche tried a different tactic.

“Would you like to meet Argos?”

“Who?”

Arche reached out to the blur hound’s mind and called him over.

“This is Argos. I found him down here, he’ll be coming with us. He’s also off-limits, by the way.”

Argos sent some emotions through their connection.

Distrust. Anxiety.

“It’s okay, boy, she’s not going to hurt you.” He gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears. “Isn’t that right?”

“Is that a blur hound?”

“Yep.”

“It seems you are collecting an assortment of strange traveling companions.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could have convinced Asterion to come with me.”

“Asterion?”

“The Minotaur. I’m sure you passed him.”

“You slew the minotauros?”

“It’s less impressive and more depressing than that, but yes.” Arche turned his attention back to the blur hound. “Hey, Argos, go wake the sleeping girl up for me. Be gentle, she may startle.”

Agreement.

Argos padded over to Tess and pressed his nose against her palm. Tess stirred and looked up at the hound, a bruise forming over her eye from when she’d hit the ground.

“A dog?” she muttered.

Then her eyes went wide and she whipped her head around, finding Arche and Aima sitting across from each other. Tess flung a knife before she’d even made it to her knees. Arche thrust out his hand and winced as the blade sunk through his palm.

“Ow, shit! Tess, stop it.”

“She’s a malakas vampire, Arche! She’s made you her thrall.”

“No, she hasn’t. Sit down and we’ll talk.” He pulled the knife out with a spurt of blood, biting back a curse at the pain. Aima twitched, staring at the wound with huge eyes.

Tess had more knives in her hand, but clearly wasn’t willing to throw them if Arche was going to put himself in the way.

“Look.” Arche turned to Aima. “Give me your palm. This is going to hurt.”

Aima grit her teeth and offered her palm. Her eyes didn’t leave the blood dribbling from Arche’s hand. He ran the knife along her skin and held it up for Tess to see. Aima’s wounds didn’t bleed, but the damage was still visible before the flesh began to mend itself.

“If I was a thrall, I wouldn’t be able to hurt her, right?”

Tess hesitated. She lowered her hands a fraction.

“I suppose.”

“Then calm down and I’ll explain what happened.”

Tess refused to get any closer, so Arche moved to her and used Minor Heal to remove her bruise. Then he told her everything that happened since they’d been separated.

“If I had an obol for every magical, changing, bullshit labyrinth in this city I’ve been trapped in, I’d have two obols, which isn’t a lot, but it’s really fucking annoying that it’s happened twice…”