Zane's lips curled upwards in a snarl.
If he had been alone, the Thule cultists' plan would probably have worked, and they would have killed him in this place. The filthy humans could have incapacitated him with their weapons if not killed him. But they would have used the dagger when he was defenseless. The cold-forged iron would have put an end to his life ... just as it had ended his brother's life in the darkness of the catacombs.
But there was one person they hadn't taken into account: Myra.
None of them, not even he, would have thought in their wildest dreams of allying themselves with a bloodhunter of the bloodlords. However much he disliked it, he was glad to have her by his side. She was good; Zane had to recognize that without envy. He would probably not have escaped her clutches if she had been severe that night a few days ago. He was relieved she had spared him, even if he still wondered why.
She had him to thank for turning the tide in his favor as she had balanced out his dwindling strength with hers. The humans also seemed to be slowly realizing this.
„Why are you protecting a filthy fae?" hissed from the shadows. Incomprehension laced Casimir's voice with hot hatred.
„I don't waste my time justifying myself to doomed men," the bloodhunter's voice rang out, and she tilted her head in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. If there was a devil somewhere and he was smiling, it had to look like this... and feel like this: gruesome.
The eyes of the four, as Myra had labeled them, doomed souls wandered restlessly back and forth between his heavy-breathing figure and the petite image of the messenger of death. A heartbeat seemed to pass before they parted. Two men whirled around to pounce on Myra while the others fixated on him.
Only briefly did he see the flash of the dark cannon. Then he heard the bang.
Just in time, he jumped to the side and escaped the attack by a hair's breadth. His body buckled as he landed, the two idiots just dodging their opponent's blows. But the clumsy attack caused them to lose their balance and tumble to the ground.
„Foolish dolts," Zane hissed, pressed. Although his body was functioning as if on its own under the frenzy of the fight, his muscular shoulders were already shaking, revealing that he was increasingly on the edge of his strength. The pain penetrated his mind more and more clearly, breaking through his concentration and making each movement more difficult than the last. He might have collapsed by now if he had been in his humanoid form. Only the adrenaline of the fight kept him on his feet.
He had to hurry. He had to eliminate the annoying cannon fodder before focusing on the rat lurking in the shadows, which seemed to be waiting for its chance. He felt the pain in his body like a thousand tiny barbed needles that dug into his nerves and almost took his breath away.
Growling, Zane had to force himself to make the next move as he pushed himself off the ground again. But the pain was worth it. The predator took advantage of the lack of cover to stab them in the back. He pinned the writhing figures to the ground with his weight. Again and again, its open jaws, tipped with teeth like daggers, lunged at the two humans.
It aimed for their necks, their faces, their heads. As the sharp claws tore open the bodies beneath him, the oppressive, metallic odor of blood filled his every breath. A cultist yanked up his arm, which cracked and snapped under his bite - then he was caught by the throat. Finally, the screams of pain fell silent.
„I swore to you that I would kill you all," spat the trembling cat rudely as the light in the human eyes went out.
>>BAM!<<
The sound of the gunshot made Zane flinch. He fully expected the stinging pain that would throw him to the ground. But nothing of the sort happened. The wild drumming of gunfire made his heart race in his chest again as he whipped his head around so fast he felt dizzy.
The movement was too fast; the battle was taking its toll. For a moment, the Cait-Sith swayed dangerously. His world blurred into transfigured colors and black spots as the paws beneath him threatened to give way. No! If he lost consciousness now, it was all over! Zane fought against unconsciousness, tried to push the black fog aside, and scrambled to his feet.
His vision finally cleared a little.
„Die, you filthy undead!"
>>Bam! Bam! Bam!<<
Myra, still where he had last seen her, dodged the hammering shots with inhuman movements as she inched closer and closer to the increasingly frantic gunman with the Mauser C96(*).
Her eyes were fixed on the supposed last of her enemies. Even from a distance, Zane could see the bloodlust in their soul mirrors, which would have undoubtedly sent a shiver down his spine in another situation. But hidden from their eyes was the other man, hiding in his mate's shadow.
He was holding something that Zane couldn't recognize at first glance - the weapon in the man's hand looked too bulky.
But the wind, which seemed to favor them that night, blew aside the light clouds that shrouded the moon. The light fell on the lurking figure like a telltale sign of fate.
„Oh no," Zane gasped, and his pulse stopped again. „Myra!" His cry echoed warningly across the field as he recognized the weapon. The bastard had sharpened one of the broken branches and made a makeshift stake out of it - one of the few ways to kill a vampire for good.
The realization hit him like an ice-cold shiver that ran down his spine. At the same time, he felt his chest tighten for a moment before his paws began to move of their own accord.
'No, no, no!'
He forced his body to keep running, even though every step hurt. His body slid through the air as Myra leaped towards the archer. Her claws dug into the cultist's chest and yanked him backward as his teeth aimed for the deadly wood.
The distance between the ice-colored skin and the wood grew smaller and smaller before his teeth closed around the broken branch with a crunch, and his paws dragged the body of the lurking murderer forward. His body and the humans landed in the grass with a crash, and the force of the impact carried them along.
They rolled over as Myra's growl and subsequent gurgle signaled the death of the crazed gunman.
The fall squeezed the breath from Zane's lungs. Sparks exploded behind his eyelids as the pain finally took over and clouded his vision once more. Guided only by instinct, the claws clawed into his victim and dragged him down with them.
When they finally came to a halt, the world was still spinning. The human tried desperately to fight back. Zane snapped blindly. His jaw cracked next to the face of the roaring man, who pressed his hands against his chest—to no avail. Zane felt the hot blood on his fur as he pressed his claws deeper into his chest. The curved claws penetrated the soft body like several short daggers, and the bones cracked under its massive weight—and then he bit down one last time.
With the human's last breath, it seemed to have reached the limit of its strength. On wobbly legs, he managed two or three more steps - then they gave way beneath him, and Zane fell like a wet sack into the grass soaked with dew and blood. His flanks rose and fell, trembling as he gasped for air. His muscles trembled just from trying to move. He felt as if lead had been pumped into his veins instead of blood. In a desperate attempt to make the world stop and defy the dizziness, his claws dug tremblingly into the earth, leaving deep furrows.
„ZANE!"
Even as his paws searched for a foothold, the panicked cry rang out behind him. Blinking, he pushed his head through the damp grass and caught sight of Myra crouching over her latest victim not far from him. Her silver soul mirrors were wide open, bearing pure horror.
„Die, cursed Cait-Sith!" The vicious hiss, triumphant and angry simultaneously, reached his ear and made him toss his head quickly.
Burning like hellfire, Casimir's eyes stared down at him, blending with the blurred stars in his field of vision. His golden eyes widened, and the black pupils narrowed to even narrower slits as he recognized the danger. Sharply, Zane sucked the air into his lungs, his mind struggling for clarity to grasp the command to flee.
Above him, moonlight shone over the blade, making it flash. The devilish smile on the pale lips. Casimir took a heartbeat to revel in his fear as Zane tried to regain control of his body. But his muscles did not obey him.
'Too weak ... too little time ... too little distance ...', the experienced warrior thought. 'I'm sorry, brother... I failed. I couldn't avenge you. Forgive me...'
He had fought bravely. But every warrior knew that one day, the end awaited him. Zane surrendered to his fate, closed his eyes, and waited for the killing blow that would pierce his flank, just as it had done to Kaie.
One heartbeat.
One more.
Then, it was time.
Zane heard the smacking sound of the blade sliding through bone and flesh.
A heavy silence fell over the seemingly forgotten place. Only the wind and the leaves rustled. Cold blood dripped onto the grass, and Zane smelled ... the unmistakable odor of the forest after a warm summer rain. His eyes snapped open immediately, and his heart stopped beating momentarily when he saw the shadow rising before him.
„No! NO!" was his desperate cry now while his thoughts flashed and were blown away. In his subconscious, he felt her pain mingling with his own. „Why! Why did you do that!"
The growl sounded like despair and undisguised shock.
Myra stood in front of him.
And in her chest, sunk to the hilt, was the iron dagger.