Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Santa Benvida: Part Two

Isabeau charged across the courtyard and pulled Jorge away from Sister Dores, wrenching his arm behind his back until he squealed.

Another man rushed at her, and she backhanded him to the ground.

She could kill them.

She could kill every single one of them, and it would be so easy.

But . . .

A spark of clarity cut through the rage.

Santa Benvida was a convent. The nuns who lived here mostly came from poor backgrounds. They were self-sufficient and had no money of their own. If Isabeau killed all these boys now, their families would seek retribution. Santa Benvida would pay the price.

Isabeau wouldn't allow that.

She pushed Jorge to the ground and helped Sister Dores to her feet.

Two more men emerged from the depths of the building, each of them pulling an unwilling nun, and Sister Carina rushed after them, trying to protect the younger women. They all stopped when they saw Jorge on the ground, Isabeau standing over him. Olavo stood by the fire, his face murderous.

He stooped to pick up a half-burned log at the edge of the flames, but it was too hot for him and he pulled his hands back, swearing and blowing on his fingers. Isabeau strode over to him and lifted the log, ignoring the pain as it scorched her fingers. She would heal.

She moved to the middle of the courtyard, tossing the log from hand to hand. The men watching would never be sure if her eyes really were that inhuman shade of red, or if it was just a trick of the light from the smouldering log.

"This is a convent, not a whorehouse. These women are not yours to buy, and if you even think about trying to force yourselves upon them, it will be the last thing you ever do," she said, her voice rising into the night, crisp and cold.

Sister Carina put her arms around Sisters Dores, drawing her away from the men who had invaded their home. Her eyes were on Isabeau the entire time.

One of the men laughed nervously. "She's just one woman," he said to his friends, and a couple of them started to mutter. They'd seen how easily Isabeau had handled Olavo and Jorge, and it had given them pause, but their memories appeared to be woefully short, because now they were eyeing Isabeau as if they honestly thought they stood a chance against her.

It was time to nip this in the bud.

Isabeau strode over to the man who had spoken and hit him with the smouldering log, on the side of his head – not hard enough to kill him, but enough to send him reeling.

One of his friends rushed her, fists raised, and Isabeau brought her knee up into his crotch. He folded over, clutching himself and wheezing.

Olavo swore at her, spitting curses that she didn't recognise, and stalked towards her.

Inwardly, Isabeau sighed. Wouldn't they ever learn?

She met him halfway, wrapping a hand around his throat and lifting him off his feet, in full view of everyone. Shocked gasps sounded, from both men and women.

Having fed on animals for so long, Isabeau was not at full strength, but even so, the power of a vampire flowed through her. She was still extremely aware of how easy it would be to kill this man, but that knowledge was tempered with a steady resolve.

She did not regret killing Ulises and his friends.

She did regret killing the village locals who'd come after her years ago.