Her eyes raked over his body one more ti. He was more godlike than actual statues of gods. From this distance, her unholy sight caught every scar in his flesh, every pore on his skin.
Each feature carved into a rugged canvas of muscle and power. It was almost enough to make her reconsider her feelings about the Holy Trinity. After all, they had produced this.
"You’re drooling," Alaric remarked.
Vladira wiped her chin. "No, you — you are!"
"No matter." He cracked his whip against the castle tile.
"It’s ti to end this." Thanaros
"Yes. It is."
Thanaros rose slowly through the floor, filling the chamber with his massive fra. He turned the blade of his scythe forward and a swirling purple vortex opened at its tip.
"What is the aning of this?!" Vladira planted her feet against the sudden gale. Her hair whipped violently around her. "What are you doing?!"
"Taking a vacation," Thanaros bellowed. "I have been saving power for centuries for this mont — the last Voss, and the Undying Countess — gone in one instant."
"What are you saying?!" Alaric launched into a standing forward flip that made Vladira tilt her head to track his spinning form.
He brought his whip down across Thanaros’s cheek, then hurled an entire bottle of holy water at the fiend.
Both landed. Thanaros didn’t stop.
"I’m tired of being your minion, Countess — and I loathe the Voss clan who have hunted my Reapers for eight generations. It seems to that a perfect solution for both of my problems exists: Put simply, you two deserve each other."
Vladira joined the assault. Together they hamred him, blow after blow. The vortex kept expanding. The pull shifted from wind to suction, then to sothing irresistible.
She didn’t even feel herself leave the ground.
Both of them were swallowed into the portal, tumbling through a tunnel that stretched on for what felt like hours.
Ages blurred past. Horse and carriage gave way to the motorcar. Lanterns beca light bulbs. Personal discipline and happiness beca the smartphone.
They absorbed it all, centuries of knowledge flooding in uninvited, and then the tunnel ended.
Alaric hit the ground hard in the middle of an open road. Vladira landed directly on top of him, seated squarely on his chest.
He threw her off imdiately. She skidded across the pavent, the word arriving in her mind unbidden.
"Gahh!" Alaric growled. People were shouting. It was night, maybe eight o’clock, but the streets were packed like midday.
Vladira looked over at him and noticed he was cupping his cheek in the exact spot that was burning on hers. Her stomach dropped. It can’t be.
"Get out of the road, you fucking lunatics!" A man leaned out of his car, palm flat on the horn. "We’re trying to drive here!"
The Countess and the hunter locked eyes across opposite lanes.
"Well," Vladira said, checking herself for damage, "it seems like we are in a certain situation."
Alaric reached for his whip but held it. "Indeed we are."
They sprinted off the road in opposite directions, each making a tactical retreat from the blaring horns and staring crowds. Alaric needed to think before he could fight.
His adversary seed to agree, disappearing into the strange night rather than press the battle in front of civilians.
He scanned his surroundings. He could read everything. The local script had changed, the language had shifted over centuries of use, but his mind processed it without effort.
A large store sat across the road, off in the direction Vladira had run. W-Mart. Beside it, a gas station. Pump N’ Go. Bright orange logo, ugly against the night.
He winced.
But that wasn’t what he needed. There. Weekend Motel. Lodging. He had no money, but he needed a base.
He moved toward it. With each step, a tingle started in his chest. It spread, deepened, and beca sothing worse. His veins felt like they were burning.
His skin felt like it was peeling. He stopped. Stepped back. The pain faded.
Across the street, the Countess was bent over, clutching her stomach, walking back toward him.
"You again!" she shouted, eyes finding him imdiately. An unexpected look of amusent on her face. "Looks like we can’t escape this final battle, can we?"
"It seems not." He raised his whip and grabbed a bottle of holy water. "Prepare yourself, fiend of Hell! The end is nigh!"
Vladira launched herself at him, mouth open, claws out. He raised his gauntlet and bit the cork off with his teeth.
When she hit him, pressing her half-exposed chest against his bare skin, the garlic drove her back hard enough to give him the opening he needed.
He splashed the water into her face.
"Ahhh!" She recoiled, steam rising from her cheeks.
"Gaahhh!" The sa burn hit him from nowhere. He touched his own face, staring at the sa rising steam.
Vladira uncovered her face. One cheek still faintly red. "Wait — why is your face also burnt?"
"I don’t know. I burned my — ahh! Hey!"
She cut her wrist open with her nail. The sa wound opened on his arm.
Alaric stared at it. It closed quickly, matching her recovery rate exactly. "We are bloodbonded."
"Most powerful spells affecting multiple people at once have that effect — I didn’t think a bloodbond could affect us, though. We’re too strong for such a thing."
"When the spellcaster is Thanaros itself, I suppose that raises the bar a bit." He got to his feet.
"What do we know about bloodbonds? I must confess, my own understanding of the occult has so gaps. I only know what my father and brother could teach before an alpha werewolf defeated them for good."
Vladira paused. "I wish I was there for that. Hmm. As I recall, bloodbonds can change and fluctuate over ti. As the bond grows stronger, for example, our shared sensations may be lessened. Or worsened. But your strengths will be mine, and mine will be yours to so degree. It’s hard to say for sure. I’ve never had to endure such a condition before."
He wrapped his whip around his forearm and let the three prongs dig in, testing the link.
"Staaaahp!" Vladira protested, waving and blowing on her arm where three fresh gashes appeared. "Doon’tuh!"
"I was only verifying —"
"Well it’s fucking verified!" She caught herself, eyes briefly dropping to his chest before snapping back up. "Now what?"
He shrugged. He had no answers. "Apparently if I kill you, I die, and if you kill , you die. We are subject to each other’s pain and injuries, and, to make matters even more complicated —"
"We can’t leave each other alone," she groaned, though he noticed the smallest smile forming. "We need to be close or it starts to hurt."
"It’ll probably kill us. The question is — am I willing to die in order to defeat you?"
Her eyes went wide. "Voss. Hey. Voss? Don’t do it, mister. Don’t. Don’t even think about it." She moved toward him slowly, hands raised.
His fingers touched the spare dagger on his hip. Lingered.
Then let go.
"It is an unforgivable sin to take one’s own life in the eyes of the Bloodbane Order. I would be excommunicated and likely face damnation, ending my family line in sha.
It isn’t worth it, even if doing so ans ridding the world of you."
Vladira exhaled. She was only a few feet away now.
"Hmm," she said, hand resting at her collarbone. "Do you feel that, Voss?"
"Yes, I do. A vague comfort from maintaining close proximity to you. Rather disgusting that I should find myself in this situation with Satan’s bride."
Vladira rolled her eyes. "Oh, please — I hardly know Satan. We’re barely on greeting card terms, let alone married."
He let that pass. His gaze drifted toward the motel sign. "There is an inn over yonder. We could attempt to barter with the innkeeper and gain access to lodging for the evening, protecting us from whatever foul beasts roam this land."
"Very well, I will play along for now. But what exactly do you intend to barter with? We have no money."
"That is another problem," he agreed.
"No matter." Vladira swished her hand as a gust caught her cape and her hair. "I can find us a solution, I’m sure."
"I will not permit you to kill anyone," he warned.
She placed her hand on his chest. "Relax, Voss — I ate only hours before you arrived in my throne room. I could go a week without another al if needed."
"How often did you typically eat?"
"Well — at least one virgin woman every few days, typically. They taste the best. But to maintain my strength, once a week is all it takes."
He pulled her hand off his chest when she started playing with his chest hair. "Excellent lore for future generations of Vosss to use against you. Thank you for sharing."
"My pleasure," she cooed. "You know — since we can’t kill each other, we might as well —"
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