Tragic: Chapter 3

Tragic: The Vampire Who Refused to Die

Chapter 3

We turned our horses from the tavern, dark thoroughbreds stamping against the snow. A pale blue orb drifted over Suzanne’s shoulder, washing the thatched roof in cyan glow and throwing long, uneasy shadows as we cantered away.

The night stretched into hours. I felt no cold, but she drew deeper into her furred cloak, hood shadowing her face. Still, I could see the curve of her cheek, the soft mist of her breath. I’d spent nights beside her, watching her sleep, content just to hear her breathing like this.

I pulled my reins to fall in line behind her, letting myself watch the rhythm of her hips with the horse’s stride. My thoughts strayed — creaking leather and muffled hoofbeats turning into other motions, other rhythms. She didn’t look back, but I knew she was smiling. My horse huffed, as though weary of us both.

The forest closed in, trees bending toward our glowing passage. Branches cracked, snow fell in soft thuds, harness bells jingled against the silence.

“What do you suppose our guide is going to require of us?” Her softly spoken question drifted back to me like smoke in the still air, gently coaxing me out of my quiet contemplations.

“I know not, m’lady. It will surely be no easy task if your Cousin didn’t already see to it himself, of this I’m sure.” I pressed my heels to my horse’s ribs, drawing a little closer to her.

“I wonder who they will be? He didn’t even tell us how to identify them.” I could tell by the stiffness in her posture that she wasn’t pleased. The implications weren’t great in my head either.

“That seems uncharacteristically shortsighted of him. I can’t help but assume it will be made clear in time in a manner we’d rather have avoided.”

Her soft laughter floated by like bells frozen in the air, telling me she shared the sentiment.

Pleased that her spirits seemed to be holding for the moment, I let myself lapse back into thought on how the two of us were going to bring down a dragon. I registered following steps behind us just seconds before I heard the sharp twang of a bowstring and the shrill whistle of an arrow screaming toward us.

I snarled, “Ride!” as my heels dug into my horse’s ribs and I wrenched the reins. Snow sprayed up as my mount skidded, then surged in a new direction just as the arrow buried itself in the bark of a nearby fir, thick sap oozing out like blood from a fresh wound. Looking ahead, I saw Suzanne spur her horse faster, leaning down over its muscled neck, her cloak billowing like a banner in the wind.

Behind us rose a trio of voices, jeering and taunting our flight as they rushed to keep pace. Our horses’ hooves kicked up a wall of white powder at our passing, thankfully obscuring us from more shots.

We continued like this for several minutes, twisting rapidly down the narrow trail. Branches like twisted black arms clawed at us in our flight. Our pursuers were tenacious — they knew this terrain and matched us stride for stride.

Ahead I caught our chance: the trail narrowed between two rising hills, stone walls pressing close. A funnel. If I could hold them there, I could shield Suzanne while cutting them down.

“Up there!” She followed my finger with her gaze, then gave a curt nod.

The thunder of hooves echoed between the stone walls, doubling the sound until it rattled in my chest. We skidded to a halt at the far end of the pass, and I swung down from the saddle. My katanas sang free, steel catching what little light remained.

Our pursuers reined in and slowed, grins splitting their gaunt faces. Oily hair clung to their foreheads, their clothes little more than rags, their stench reaching me before their laughter did.

“Gentlemen, I beli—” The quip died in my throat as Suzanne’s voice cut across mine.

“Fulmen.”

CRACK.

The night split open. A bolt of lightning ripped past me, searing the air and slamming into the three men. Their eyes widened, then clenched shut as current locked their jaws. Their mounts screamed and thrashed before collapsing in a tangle of smoking limbs. The stench of charred flesh rolled over us.

I turned slowly, one brow raised. Suzanne smirked, blew me a kiss, and wheeled her horse away as though she’d merely swatted a fly.

Strong independent Witch don’t need no vampire… Gods, I loved her.

We rode in silence until we came upon a shallow cave beside the trail. Ash filled the fire pit at its mouth, and the ground was littered with the scraps of former travelers. I tethered our horses to the rough-hewn hitch near the opening and slipped inside, one hand resting on the pommel at my hip.

The cave ran only a short distance, but deep enough that no sunlight would reach within. It would serve.

We spent the rest of the night tending the horses and laying out our bedrolls. She curled against me as slumber took her. Strange custom, if you ask me — cuddling a corpse through the day — but it pleased her. And I was unconscious for most of it, so it cost me nothing.

Witches… weirdos, every last one.