Bound to Blackwood

Chapter 1

They should have noticed her. Even though Lena hid in the darkness, tracking Vampires was in Fallen DNA. She was uneasy with the development, but schooled herself to patience.

This part of south-west London was rundown to the point of decay. The rotten garden gate creaked when the Fallen entered the decrepit front garden. There were seven of them converging on the house, all well-armed. She had to stifle a growl.

Despite appearing human – like her – they were anything but. Too intent on reaching the civilian Vampires inside, they didn't notice they were the ones being hunted.

The Fallen split up, presumably to initiate some kind of multi-pronged attack on the residents just waking up in the house. She watched some of them disappear towards the rear, but one of them ventured towards her. She knew the waiting was over.

From her spot on the adjacent rooftop Lena slipped down to the ground. She landed several feet behind him, but he didn't show any sign that he'd heard her. Vampires were graceful by nature and could move without any noise if they chose to. She moved silently towards him, drawing her sword. It irked her that she couldn't engage him in a fight, but she wasn't stupid; the Fallen outnumbered her seven to one.

Instead, she attacked from behind. He didn't even have time to look surprised. His head rolled away with the same expression of concentration he'd worn when he was inspecting the security of the downstairs windows.

She didn't stop to check whether he was dead. Fallen could survive a lot, but not decapitation. That arsehole was not getting up again.

As she snaked around the corner, she saw another Fallen creeping around the industrial bins at the side of the house.

"Hanging out with the rubbish; just where you belong," Lena hissed. She flashed her fangs as she smiled.

The Fallen snapped his head up. Glaring incredulously, he growled. "You should know, Vampire." He made the word 'Vampire' sound as if he said 'evil piece of shit' instead.

She knew she shouldn't have said anything. She could have dispatched him just as easily as his ill-fated colleague, but Lena relished the challenge, didn't like being some faceless assassin. No, she wanted them to know, and if he called for his buddies to back him up, then so be it.

She sensed his self-confidence and smiled to herself. He wasn't calling anybody. He thought he could do this alone.

Lena beckoned him towards her and whispered, "C'mon, you soulless tosser!"

The Fallen took a few steps towards her. He wasn't particularly big, but he was athletic, moved well and was light on his feet. She wasn't bothered though. She moved in a blur, her would-be slayer struggling to track her. She crossed the space between them in a nano-second. His eyes flashed with surprise. The look quickly left his otherwise expressionless face, but Lena saw it. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction.

That feeling dimmed as he jumped to his left, using the bins to pivot around her. She swung around, concentrating on his musculature, waiting for the smallest indication of his next move. She saw it in the slightest bunching of his thigh muscles as he prepared to jump. As he went, his body already committed to the move, he drew his own blade.

As he landed in front of her, his expression of triumph turned to one of confusion. His left leg gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

That's right, dickhead. You were playing Spiderman; I was slicing through the tendons on that leg of yours.

The Fallen glanced at the sword in Lena's hand. She knew what he saw: blood — his own blood dripping down the blade. To his credit, he didn't just lay there. He'd lost the use of his leg, but he scrambled towards the dustbins. He was already dragging himself upright as Lena reached to grab a dagger from her thigh holster. He faced her, defiance showing in every line of his face as he lifted his sword again. Lena threw the knife, but he swivelled to his right. She missed. Damn it.